Read Online Holly's Christmas Kiss by Alison May - Free Book Online Page A

to London? Do you live here now?’
    Michelle explained about the wedding, the cancelled flight, and the train ticket debacle. She skimmed over the mistletoe and the cheesy , weepy movie.
    ‘You poor thing! You’ll need a little something to perk you up after all that.’ Jean produced a hip flask from her handbag, followed by two plastic cups. Michelle raised an eyebrow at the contents of the lady’s handbag. Catching the look, Jean smiled.
    ‘You never know when you might need a little pick-me-up. Chin! Chin!’
    Michelle didn’t even try to refuse. Drinking during the day wasn’t her usual style, but she sensed that no argument would be brooked. She took a sip and felt the whisky burning her throat.
    ‘That’s the stuff. Now tell me about this boy.’
    ‘Which boy?’
    ‘The one who’s house you slept at last night. Why aren’t you living it up in first class with him?’
    Michelle took another sip of her whisky.
    ‘Don’t play with it girl. Drink up!’ Jean topped up her cup. ‘And tell me about the boy.’
    ‘He’s just a boy.’
    ‘No. He’s not. The one’s people say are “just a boy” are always something more.’
    Michelle didn’t answer immediately. She knew she was lying. Sean wasn’t just a boy. He was all man. For all the floppy hair and mischievous attitude, there was nothing boyish about the way he’d pulled her into his arms. Outwardly, she shrugged.
    ‘Nothing much to say.’
    ‘Bollocks.’
    Michelle gulped at the unexpected expletive, and looked again at her travelling companion. Jean rolled her eyes.
    ‘Tell me about Noel then. Was it his mother I heard about a few months ago? Tanya Jolly? The one who died.’
    Michelle shook her head. She really must stop drinking before talking to people. Her normal reserve had been shattered to pieces over the last twenty-four hours.
    ‘Good.’ Jean pulled a face. ‘Horrid to lose one’s mother too soon.’
    ‘Actually that was my mother.’
    ‘Oh. I see. I knew they were related somehow. Were you close to her?’
    Michelle nodded. ‘It was mainly just me and her when I was growing up.’
    Michelle’s plastic cup was topped up. She took another sip.
    ‘So your parents split up? Your father married again?’ Miss Bickersleigh was not, it appeared, a great respecter of personal boundaries.
    ‘Yes. I didn’t see him that often really.’
    ‘That’s a shame. Girls need fathers.’
    The conversation was getting far too personal for Michelle’s liking. She picked up her book and tried to look engrossed. Jean didn’t seem to mind, but Michelle couldn’t concentrate on the words. What was happening to her? Different faces swum across her imagination. Her dad. Sean. Auntie Barbara. Miss Bickersleigh. Sean. Her mum. Sean. Sean.
    And then her dad again. A card every birthday. A letter every Christmas, always with an invitation to join him and Noel and Joe and The Elf. She’d never gone. She’d always said it was because of her mother, but why not this year? The letter had arrived a month before Christmas like it always did. She’d recognised the writing on the envelope and thrown it away.
    And then Sean’s face again. Those stupid green eyes glinting at her, challenging her to loosen up, relax, have fun. Those green eyes that clearly didn’t understand anything about losing people that you loved, or about taking responsibility for yourself or anyone else. What Michelle needed wasn’t Sean. It was simplicity, time on her own with no commitments. If she did happen to decide she wanted a relationship in the future, she would use one of those internet dating sites, where she could set criteria , and control who contacted her. It sounded much more orderly.
    Finally, her mum. She would always think of her at this time of year, even though she’d hated Christmas with a passion. She remembered Christmas dinners after they’d moved out of Barbara’s cramped terrace and into the fla t– enchiladas, or homemade pizza, whatever Mum could