Christmas at Rosewood. Sophie Pembroke

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СКАЧАТЬ Saskia’s family’s.

      ‘Tricia?’ Isabelle asked, and Mum looked up. ‘Did you bring any of your own decorations to add to the tree?’

      Mum nodded, and pulled out a small box from behind her back. ‘Just a few.’ But as she took each of them out in turn, handing them to Caro and Max to add to the tree, I knew she’d brought all the important ones. The half-eaten apple Dad had brought home from a business trip in New York, the Paris bauble I’d bought them on my year abroad. Even the manky old feathered dove that had hung on our family tree for longer than I could remember.

      Every one of those decorations held a memory, as dear as the ones Saskia and her family must have of theirs. I was suddenly very glad that Mum had thought to bring them.

      The sensation that I was being watched crept up the back of my neck, and when I looked away from the tree I found Aiden’s gaze on me. Our eyes met, briefly, before he tore his away. I wondered what he was thinking, behind that hot and angry gaze. Was he remembering the tiny fake tree in my empty flat on campus? The way the lights used to flash on and off – not because they were supposed to, but because there was a loose connection. Or the tinfoil decorations we made from mince pie containers?

      How was it I could still remember that, but not what Darren had bought me for Christmas last year?

      ‘Mum? Did you bring any of our decorations?’ Max's voice pulled my attention away, and I hurried down the remaining stairs to join the rest of them in the hallway.

      Our decorations. The box of perfectly coordinated purple and turquoise baubles that Darren had insisted on after we redecorated the lounge? No. All the handcrafted ones that Max had made in primary school had found their way to Mum’s house, somehow, and none of the ones that were left meant a damn thing to me.

      ‘Um –’

      ‘I’ve got this one of yours, Max,’ Mum broke in, pulling the three lollipop-stick reindeer that Max had been so proud of six years ago from her box. Now, he just rolled his eyes.

      ‘Why did you bring that old thing?’ he asked.

      ‘Because it’s my favourite,’ Mum said firmly, choosing a branch for it.

      Caro and Max exchanged a look – one that I was pretty sure meant ‘Grandparents. What can you do?’ At least he wouldn’t be lonely this Christmas, away from all his friends. If he’d found someone else to be sulky and sarcastic with, he’d be happy as anything. In a subdued, glaring sort of a way.

      Then Aiden stepped forward, holding a sparkling glass star. ‘Room for one more?’

      My breath caught in my chest. I recognised that star.

      That was the star that had sat at the top of my tiny plastic tree in my uni flat. The star Mum had sent me in a care package that December, not that she was likely to remember. The star that had been missing from the tree when I returned to the flat on New Year’s Day afternoon. Well. At least I knew where it went, now.

      But I knew more than that. I knew that, however mad he still was at me, Aiden was still as haunted by that Christmas we’d spent together as I was.

      ‘Always,’ Isabelle said, smiling. Aiden reached out to hang my star on one of the lower branches, but Isabelle grabbed his arm and lifted it higher, directing him to one of the more prominent branches.

      ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘You want to show it off.’

      Aiden didn’t look so sure, and the look he cast me made me think that maybe he was regretting even bringing the damn thing. He must have known I’d be here, I realised. Must have planned, and brought that star because of it. Because we still had unfinished business – and this Christmas was our chance to finish it, at last.

      I just wished that thought didn’t fill me with such dread.

      Following Aiden’s look, Isabelle turned to me. ‘Now, Freya! I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced, and I’m sure Edward hasn’t managed to even tell you everyone’s names yet. I’m Isabelle. Saskia’s grandmother.’

      I resisted the urge to say I know. I recognise you from all the photos in the Rosewood Journals. I had a feeling that wasn’t the best way to start our acquaintance, given what the journals had to say about Isabelle’s earlier life, and her marriage to Nathaniel.

      Frankly, I considered it a miracle that any of the family were still speaking to each other, given all the truths that had emerged in the writing of that book.

      Isabelle went around the room, introducing me to the assembled company: Sally and Tony, Saskia’s parents – her dressed in a vibrant green and gold floaty top over leggings, and him in a Santa’s elf apron; Aunt Therese, looking like a throwback to 1953 with pinned hair and a nipped-in waist; and Saskia’s sisters, Caro and Ellie, and her brother-in-law Greg. Caro must be around Max’s age, I thought. There hadn’t been much detail about her in the Journals, probably to protect her privacy in future life.

      Ellie was a study in opposites from her sisters – pale and blonde where Saskia and Caro were brunette. Greg held their baby girl, Nicolette, up in his arms so she could watch the lights on the tree. She must be around eight months, if I remembered what Edward had told me correctly.

      He’d been so excited about the baby. I’d bet money it wouldn’t be long before he and Saskia followed suit.

      All in all, it was a festive and happy family gathering – far removed from the scandal and secrets I’d read in the Journals. But even then, the love they’d all felt for each other had come through in the text. A tribute to Edward and Saskia’s hard work and talent, I supposed.

      ‘And of course, Edward tells us you already know Aiden,’ Isabelle finished, and I smiled tightly.

      ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, but yes. We’ve met.’

      ‘Met.’ Such a small, insignificant word for what had passed between Aiden and I. But it would have to do.

      ‘I’m relishing the opportunity to catch up,’ Aiden said, his gaze locked with mine. His bright blue eyes were steady, but there was a glint in them. A promise of something.

      Or maybe a threat.

      Aiden, I suspected, wasn’t going to let me leave Rosewood without answering some questions – questions he’d been waiting fourteen years to ask.

      Therese clapped her hands together. ‘Time for cocktails!’

      Thank God. I needed a drink.

      Mostly because I had a very strong feeling that Aiden wasn’t done with me yet.

       Chapter Three

      The whole group moved through to the drawing room, with the exception of Tony, who headed for the kitchen muttering something about checking on the dinner. I caught up with Mum as we made our way down a long hallway, whispering so as not to be overheard.

      ‘You doing okay?’

      Mum’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise. ‘Of course! Everyone has СКАЧАТЬ