Forfeit (Original Edit)

Chapter Nineteen

Gosthwaite Hall had been transformed into a Dickensian postcard. The enormous Christmas tree sagged under the weight of little wooden toys, popcorn garlands and ginger biscuit stars. They'd even gilded the holly with a dusting of faux-snow.

Why the hell had I come to a Christmas bloody fayre? To buy chestnuts? Or a side of wild boar for Boxing Day? Would Vanessa really thank me when she unwrapped handmade felt-boots for Dora's Christmas present? Someone shoot me now.

At the least nauseating Swiss chalet-style stall, I bought a glühwein from 'Frau Butterworth'. I shouldn't since I'd driven to the village, but it was the only way to cope with the saccharine sweetness of the stall-holders in traditional Victorian garb. Near the tree, I sat on a bench and lit a cigarette, ignoring the appalled looks from the middle-aged woman nearest me. Oh, bite me. We're outside.

At a stall selling handmade decorations, a couple giggled over a bauble - a sickening reminder of last week when I'd teenager-gazed at Xander. Last week, when he had two days off. Days off? I slugged the surprisingly good glühwein. Xander had worked every day since Jonty's phone call, meaning I only saw him for a few hours each morning and night.

Last night had been awful, truly awful. To prepare for him arriving home bouncing, I rather stupidly drank a bottle of wine then sank another half while he had his comedown joint and told me tales of X serving this and Y making that. I tried really hard not to mind, but every time he mentioned Kate the waitress or Nadia the receptionist, I drank another massive gulp of wine. In the end, it got too much.

'You spend more time with that Polish bloody receptionist than you do with me. I never see you anymore.'

'I'm working.' He ran his hands through his hair.

'Well, I assume you're working. How is Nadia?' I could see her charging two grand a night.

He stared at me. 'What?'

Shut up, Daisy. 'You're never here.'

'This is the restaurant business. I know the hours aren't exactly social but that's just the way it is.' There was no apology, no repentance. 'This is what I do.'

'I miss you. We've just got together but I may as well be single.' I stubbed my cigarette out, feeling worse than ever. This wasn't Xander's fault. I forced a cheery smile. 'But, since you don't work Saturdays, you have Christmas Eve off. What shall we do?'

He glanced at his feet.

'You're working Christmas Eve?' Christmas Day was bad enough but I thought we'd have Christmas Eve together. 'I should've gone to my brother's with my parents. At least I wouldn't be on my own.'

Xander edged closer, pulling me to him. 'It won't be so bad. Come on, it's just Christmas Eve.'

'It's not just Christmas Eve. Everyone else will be out having fun. What am I supposed to do? Go to midnight bloody mass? At least that'd be better than sitting here waiting for you to come home to tell me how bloody marvellous Kate and Nadia are.' Oh shut up, you stupid cow.

With my nails digging into my palms, I stormed out to hide in the kitchen, thoroughly ashamed of myself. I sat on the kitchen table gritting my teeth, but the tears fell anyway. I didn't want to be jealous and, if I was, I really didn't want Xander to know about it. But I was jealous - completely and utterly jealous. He was working at a five-star hotel, full of pretty waitresses, customers and hotel staff. Last time he did that, he also did a couple of hundred girls in three years. I just didn't trust him. The list hadn't helped. It had made things worse.

'Daze?' He stood in front of me, wiping away my tears.

'I'm sorry.' I took a calming breath.

'Kate and Nadia aren't anywhere near as bloody marvellous as you.' He kissed the top of my head. 'You should see how bored they look when I've been banging on about you for the thousandth time of the day.'