Fern Britton Summer Collection: New Beginnings, Hidden Treasures, The Holiday Home, The Stolen Weekend. Fern Britton

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      He looked at her sceptically as she zigzagged through, obviously suggesting she might think again.

      ‘Well, -ish,’ she qualified. They walked on for a while without speaking, both thinking about the ongoing conversation they’d been having ever since Frank arrived the night before, Fred still bringing up the rear.

      As they walked, Christie had grudgingly to admit that, in the sober light of day, Frank was probably right. She should say sorry. Perhaps she had changed – but not all for the bad, she rapidly justified herself. The time was definitely right for her to emerge from the paralysis of her grief, and Mel had encouraged her. Everyone had. She just hadn’t foreseen all that her new job or, for that matter, being managed by Julia would involve. She’d had more to deal with than she’d anticipated, including the impact on her children, especially Libby. But that wasn’t an excuse to take it out on everyone else. Despite her unwillingness to admit she was in the wrong, someone had to take responsibility and square things. That much she knew.

      ‘OK. I give in.’ She broke the silence. ‘I’ll phone her. Though God knows what she’ll say.’

      Frank slipped his arm through hers. ‘Right decision. At last. Can we go home now? I’m freezing my butt off out here.’

      Christie laughed, letting him turn them round. ‘And I’ll take a long hard look at myself, provided you promise to keep me on the straight and narrow.’

      ‘Why do you think I came?’ He tightened his grip to stop her falling as her foot slid on a patch of ice while Fred ran ahead, delighted to be heading home at last.

      *

      After a scratch lunch of Christmas leftovers and baked potatoes, Frank left, confident he had done all he could for her. Christie kissed him goodbye, thanked him for being a true friend, and promised that as soon as she and Fred had tested the new metal detector in the garden, she would phone Mel.

      An hour later, with freezing fingers and gutted at not having discovered a horde of Viking treasure, Fred climbed into his sleeping bag with a rebellious Smudge and returned to his Wii. With him torn between his game and coaxing the kitten back into the bag, Christie at last had the chance to make herself a strong coffee and head upstairs to call Mel undisturbed.

      Her sister picked up immediately. Christie went in at full throttle, having decided not to give her a chance to get a word in edgeways. She didn’t want the argument to kick off again, making matters worse with their recriminations. ‘Before you say anything, I’m so sorry. I’ve been a complete cow. I needed you to point it out and I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. Not any of it. I feel dreadful. Can we kiss and make up? Please. As for Richard, I’m cool with you seeing him. Really. I was just being unbelievably selfish.’ She paused for breath, having meant every word.

      To her astonishment, Mel started laughing – the one reaction she hadn’t expected. ‘Stop! Stop! I was going to phone you this evening when I thought you might have calmed down. I was just as bad. Jet lag and drink – killer combo. I only got up a couple of hours ago and feel awful about what I said.’

      ‘But it’s true,’ Christie insisted. ‘I have been horribly demanding and critical, wanting everything to go my way. I wasn’t thinking about you and Mum. I see that now, thanks to Frank, who’s talked yet more sense into me. I guess I was starting to believe my own publicity. Well, the good bits anyway.’

      ‘Well, maybe you were, a bit,’ Mel conceded, adding hastily, ‘but I don’t really blame you.’

      ‘Friends?’ Christie said anxiously.

      ‘Friends.’ There was no doubt in her sister’s voice. ‘Can I come over tomorrow instead?’

      ‘Of course.’ She felt the weight fly from her shoulders. She had been so scared that Mel would be much harder to pull round than this.

      ‘As for Richard …’

      Christie froze, bracing herself for what was about to come.

      ‘I’m not having and I’m not about to have a fling with him. I like him a lot, but my heart’s set on Jean-Pierre, my St Lucian photographer. Not that I’d ever tell him. Not yet, anyway.’

      ‘You’re not?’ Had she misheard?

      ‘Absolutely not. Besides, if Richard likes anyone, it’s you.’

      ‘He does?’ Surely Mel was mistaken. ‘But how do you know? I … I never said anything.’

      ‘You didn’t need to, you idiot. But he’s terrified of you because you seem so in control.’

      ‘If only,’ she whispered.

      ‘Why do think he’s always showing up at your house or thinking of another reason for Fred to go over to theirs?’

      ‘Because two boys together are easier than one. He said so.’

      ‘“He said so,”’ Mel mimicked, frustrated by how dense her sister could be sometimes. ‘Chris, he likes you. Believe it. When I hinted about the money problems you’ve been having, he was so concerned for you.’

      ‘But what about when he wouldn’t kiss me?’

      ‘I don’t know about that, but he certainly ain’t interested in me. He’s a decent man and a good dad who’s had his problems. Has he ever talked to you about what’s happened to him since his time in Iraq? Sounds more than anyone could bear. Seeing your friends blown to pieces, finding a local family you’d become close to lying dead by the road. How do you recover from something like that?’

      ‘I didn’t even know he’d been to Iraq! He’s talked to you about it?’

      ‘A little. There’s nothing like a car journey or two to break the ice. You know me.’

      Bloody hell! Mel would have made a better journalist than she was. Christie could imagine only too well how her sister’s curiosity wouldn’t have let Richard get away with the dismissive replies he’d given the couple of times she’d asked about his army days. With him captive in the car, Mel would have taken the opportunity to grill him about everything she could. Christie was shocked to hear what he had experienced. Like most people, she only had the vaguest idea of what an active soldier’s life involved. She saw the news, was momentarily affected by the announcement of another young serviceman’s death, but then she went back to her own life, to her own comparatively trivial concerns.

      After they’d finished talking, she walked downstairs with some hope back in her step. As she reached the bottom, the front door opened and in walked Libby, armed with three shopping bags. Behind her, Christie saw Sophie waving from the car. Anxious to smooth her way back into Libby’s good books, she dashed out to ask Sophie and her mum in for a cup of tea, but they were hurrying home. By the time she was back inside, Libby had disappeared upstairs. She went into the kitchen to get out the Christmas cake and make some tea. A few minutes later, she heard a shout. ‘Mum!’

      Surprised even to be spoken to, she went to the foot of the stairs and looked up to see Libby standing at the top wearing a floaty, sleeveless long black dress, low cut with three buttons down to the empire line. Round her neck glittered a necklace of silver rings and white beads. Gone was her Goth daughter, replaced by a coltish beauty who was quite unaware of how lovely she was.

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ