Four Weekends & a Photograph (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 18

Wallop was decorated as beautifully as ever when we arrived. The following day would be Christmas Eve, a special day at the house. We'd always celebrated with an evening meal on the 24th, Mops explaining to me, at the tender age of eleven, cooking for everyone on the 25th was far too stressful, and didn't allow her time to enjoy the main day with the rest of the family. Maybe that's where my passion for cooking came from, wanting to take that one pressure away from my family.

We usually had a gaggle of guests, from aunts, and uncles, and cousins, and their children, and a multitude of friends who didn't have anywhere else to go. And Nanna, my only surviving grandparent. What a character. Still sprightly at the ripe age of eighty four, even livelier if she'd had a sherry, or three. Nicole adored her, sat patiently listening to her many stories while I helped Mops in the kitchen. At eight o'clock we all were seated in the dining room, the main lights dimmed, festive candles down the middle of the table, dried winter berries and fruit providing additional decoration. Such a magical scene at such a magical time of year.

I had been placed next to James, the youngest son of Pops' friend from Eton. Nicole was the other side of the table trying not to make it obvious she was listening to our conversation, while Nanna rambled on beside her about the fun she got up to in air raid shelters during the war. I could see Nicole staring as James refilled my wine glass, her eyes still on me as James laughed at one of my comments, and as James brushed a stray strand of hair from my face.

I'd met him a few times before, garden parties, bonfire nights, never really taking much notice of him, nor he of me. Tonight he seemed different, as though he was seeing me for the first time, and liking what he saw. It didn't bother me. He so wasn't my type, obviously, not anymore, now I was with Nicole.

She cornered me after the meal. "Who was that?"

"Oh, him. Henry's son."

"Okay."

"Dad's best friend. Henry."

"Okay."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously, what?"

"Am I coming to your room tonight? Or, you to me?"

"What? We can't. Not with everyone staying."

"Okay."

"Nicole..." She had begun walking away. "What?"

By the time I finished helping Mops in the kitchen it was gone eleven. We usually stayed up past midnight on Christmas Eve, welcoming in the new day while playing charades. Nicole had disappeared, ringing her mobile and getting no answer, leaving several messages, then a string of texts. When I checked her room her phone was on the bedside table, which was odd. I checked my bedroom. She wasn't there either.

James cornered me in the drawing room saying he would call in the New Year, suggesting we might meet up for a drink in Oxford. That was so not a consideration. There was no way I would, but I didn't want to come straight out and say so. What a coward. No wonder Nicole was annoyed. I would be annoyed if someone asked her out for a drink and she didn't tell them she was with someone. That's all I had to say. Sorry James, I'm seeing someone. A gorgeous redhead who makes me feel things I never knew I could.

Why didn't I? Why didn't I simply say to James I had someone? How hard would that have been? There was no requirement for me to expand on the statement. He would get the message I wasn't available, or interested. Where was Nicole? Worry set in when I heard the clock chime midnight, wanting her with me. Maybe she was so mad she decided to leave? No, she wouldn't. She'd been drinking, not much, a glass or two at most. She would never drive if she had been drinking. Never.