Read Online Sealed with a Christmas Kiss by Rachael Lucas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachael Lucas
Ads: Link
and the room was freezing cold. On the other sofa, sprawled out under makeshift covers, was Susan. Kate clambered out from beneath her old duvet, which
smelled faintly of damp. It was like being back in the first year of university.
In the kitchen, she got two glasses of water and fished in her handbag for some paracetamol. Thank God there was a pack.
Please let them work fast.
Her head felt like someone was
banging a mallet on it in time with her pulse.
‘Ughhh.’ A groan came from the sitting room. Kate took Susan her drink, popping out a further two painkillers from the pack and handing them over silently. Susan swallowed them
obediently before shuffling into a semi-upright position.
‘Tom’s going to go mad – he doesn’t know where you were, does he?’ Kate felt a sudden wave of panic. ‘How much wine did we drink in the end?’
‘I texted him last night and told him not to expect me back. Don’t you remember?’ Susan laughed.
‘I remember singing Spice Girls songs and showing you I could do the splits. Then it all goes a bit fuzzy.’
Susan waved a hand towards the fireplace. All three wine bottles lay empty, along with the remnants of a carpet picnic of crisps, sweets, microwave curry and chocolate.
‘Ringing any bells yet?’
‘I don’t want to think about it. I feel a bit queasy just looking at that lot. And – oh, shit.’
‘What’s up?’
‘Roddy. I just stormed off. What the hell is he going to think?’
Susan eased herself upright, looking seasick. ‘He’s fine. I think I told Tom to tell him you’re with me. I think.’
Kate shot her a look of concern. She’d stormed out and left Roddy, telling him she didn’t want any of this. In the cold light of a hungover morning, with her temper cooled, she was
realizing that she might have been a bit hasty. Maybe he’d been in touch. She reached into her bag, finding her phone. Pulling it out, she realized it was dead. There was no way of knowing if
he’d been in touch, except by doing the walk of shame down the hill to Duntarvie House – with this elephant-sized hangover, there was no way she’d be safe to drive. She closed her
eyes, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her.
As it turned out, Tom was swinging down the drive in his 4x4 with both the children strapped in the back.
‘You two aren’t fit to be let loose with a bottle of wine, never mind a gallon of the stuff.’
Kate slid into the back seat beside Mhairi, their toddler. She was chewing on a gingerbread Christmas tree and offered it, companionably, to a nauseated Kate.
‘It’s fine, sweetheart, you have it.’
‘Mama have?’ Mhairi strained forward, sticky biscuit in her fat little fist.
‘Mummy’s a bit delicate today, my darling. You have it.’
‘Daddy said you and Kate would have big headaches today, Mummy.’ Jamie, with the wisdom of a newly-six-year-old, looked at Kate, sizing her up.
Tom snorted with laughter as he pulled the car to a stop in the courtyard of Duntarvie House. ‘I think Daddy was right, Jamie. What do you think, Mummy and Kate?’
Kate gave a seasick smile. ‘Daddy knows his stuff. I think I might have to have a little nap.’
She stood for a moment as the car scrunched away on the gravel, still aware of the sound of her heart thudding in her ears. She felt weirdly nervous. The kitchen light cast a familiar, welcoming
glow in the midwinter gloom. She approached cautiously, half expecting to see Roddy peering out from the window, but there was no sign of him.
She opened the big wooden door which led into the hallway. Despite the early hour, one of the forestry workers had already delivered a huge Christmas tree, at least 25 feet tall. It was balanced
at an angle against the staircase and gallery above. The whole place was filled with the unmistakable scent of pine needles, the parquet floor covered with muddy boot prints and scattered pieces of
fir tree. It was Jean’s day off, and if she got back tomorrow to find the
smelled faintly of damp. It was like being back in the first year of university.
In the kitchen, she got two glasses of water and fished in her handbag for some paracetamol. Thank God there was a pack.
Please let them work fast.
Her head felt like someone was
banging a mallet on it in time with her pulse.
‘Ughhh.’ A groan came from the sitting room. Kate took Susan her drink, popping out a further two painkillers from the pack and handing them over silently. Susan swallowed them
obediently before shuffling into a semi-upright position.
‘Tom’s going to go mad – he doesn’t know where you were, does he?’ Kate felt a sudden wave of panic. ‘How much wine did we drink in the end?’
‘I texted him last night and told him not to expect me back. Don’t you remember?’ Susan laughed.
‘I remember singing Spice Girls songs and showing you I could do the splits. Then it all goes a bit fuzzy.’
Susan waved a hand towards the fireplace. All three wine bottles lay empty, along with the remnants of a carpet picnic of crisps, sweets, microwave curry and chocolate.
‘Ringing any bells yet?’
‘I don’t want to think about it. I feel a bit queasy just looking at that lot. And – oh, shit.’
‘What’s up?’
‘Roddy. I just stormed off. What the hell is he going to think?’
Susan eased herself upright, looking seasick. ‘He’s fine. I think I told Tom to tell him you’re with me. I think.’
Kate shot her a look of concern. She’d stormed out and left Roddy, telling him she didn’t want any of this. In the cold light of a hungover morning, with her temper cooled, she was
realizing that she might have been a bit hasty. Maybe he’d been in touch. She reached into her bag, finding her phone. Pulling it out, she realized it was dead. There was no way of knowing if
he’d been in touch, except by doing the walk of shame down the hill to Duntarvie House – with this elephant-sized hangover, there was no way she’d be safe to drive. She closed her
eyes, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her.
As it turned out, Tom was swinging down the drive in his 4x4 with both the children strapped in the back.
‘You two aren’t fit to be let loose with a bottle of wine, never mind a gallon of the stuff.’
Kate slid into the back seat beside Mhairi, their toddler. She was chewing on a gingerbread Christmas tree and offered it, companionably, to a nauseated Kate.
‘It’s fine, sweetheart, you have it.’
‘Mama have?’ Mhairi strained forward, sticky biscuit in her fat little fist.
‘Mummy’s a bit delicate today, my darling. You have it.’
‘Daddy said you and Kate would have big headaches today, Mummy.’ Jamie, with the wisdom of a newly-six-year-old, looked at Kate, sizing her up.
Tom snorted with laughter as he pulled the car to a stop in the courtyard of Duntarvie House. ‘I think Daddy was right, Jamie. What do you think, Mummy and Kate?’
Kate gave a seasick smile. ‘Daddy knows his stuff. I think I might have to have a little nap.’
She stood for a moment as the car scrunched away on the gravel, still aware of the sound of her heart thudding in her ears. She felt weirdly nervous. The kitchen light cast a familiar, welcoming
glow in the midwinter gloom. She approached cautiously, half expecting to see Roddy peering out from the window, but there was no sign of him.
She opened the big wooden door which led into the hallway. Despite the early hour, one of the forestry workers had already delivered a huge Christmas tree, at least 25 feet tall. It was balanced
at an angle against the staircase and gallery above. The whole place was filled with the unmistakable scent of pine needles, the parquet floor covered with muddy boot prints and scattered pieces of
fir tree. It was Jean’s day off, and if she got back tomorrow to find the
Similar Books
