Wishful Thinking (4 page)

And then, of course, there was this little hotel ‘Good Rest Ye’ out in the middle of nowhere, closed up for the season but the kindly Goodchild family, looking forward to a quiet Christmas, were willing to open up and welcome her in. Comfort and joy indeed, she thought, remembering the words of the carol which must have inspired the witty name.

The joy for her, of course, was their son, Chris. There was something so special and wonderful about him, but at the same time something secretive, mysterious. She was not exactly brimming with confidence about her own sexuality, but she could tell he was interested in her. And yet she was equally aware of his reserve. Perhaps his heart wasn’t free to indulge in a little Christmas flirtation? Or maybe he belonged to that rare breed of men who respected women too much to lead them on with false promises. Much as she doubted it in the twenty first century, she wanted to believe that. She’d never encountered one of those before, except in her dreams and occasionally in the romantic fiction she sometimes edited.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Father Christmas knows everything,” she assured him, thinking that if the worst did happen, she had enough presents hidden away in the car boot to keep him more than happy. In fact it could be very nice to spend Christmas at ‘Good Rest Ye’.

Jess nodded again. So do I, she thought, as she kissed her son’s forehead. She gazed at him for a while before rising and crossing to the window. The night was lighter than she expected, thanks to the moonlight shining down and reflecting the whiteness all around so prettily. It appeared to have stopped snowing and that saddened her a little. It could all be gone by the morning and then she would have no reason not to continue on her journey.

He shrugged his shoulders, uncomprehendingly, gazing into her face for a while before responding. “If you’re worried about leaving him, I’m sure my mother will sit with him…”

“No!” Jess was appalled. “How could you even suggest that?” She looked up into his beautiful, smiling face, her own wreathed in concern. She didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful or didn’t trust his mother, and quickly tried to explain. “How could I dream of letting your mother babysit for me after all she’s done for us tonight? It’s unthinkable. I’m grateful for your suggestion, but…” she pursed her lips together for a moment to prevent the mischievous laughter that threatened to escape. “You know, you really ought not to take your mother so much for granted, Chris. It’s not a nice trait in a son.”

He shrugged his shoulders again but had the good grace to look sheepish. “She’s used to it. And she doesn’t mind – believe me. I
do
know her.”

“I know she adores you,” Jess chided, keeping her tone gentle. “And that’s why you need to spend your time with her, not me.”

He’d looked at her as if she was crazy and half of her was inclined to think she must be. But she knew she was right, despite his arguments. He had come to visit his parents and should be spending the evening with them, not her. She glanced back at her peacefully sleeping son before drawing the heavy curtains on the magical night and heading for the adjoining bathroom.

*

Jess drifted off to sleep with romantic thoughts of Chris flitting in and out of her dreams. She awoke early and leapt out of bed to check the window. She saw - and the realisation came with a sharp twinge of disappointment - that the snow was already melting and the ground that had been covered in white last night was now revealing ever-increasing patches of green and brown. Looks like we’ll be on our way early, she thought.

She dressed hurriedly and then roused Ben. After quickly repacking their bags, she ushered him downstairs where Mrs Goodchild greeted them.

“I hope you slept well, my dears?”

“Beautifully, thank you,” Jess assured her, glancing around in the hope of catching a glimpse of Chris.

“Well come and have some breakfast. It’s all ready for you in the dining room,” Mrs Goodchild said, ushering them towards the room of last night’s festive meal.

A small table had been set for two and Jess couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment. She’d hoped to be able to say goodbye to him at least.

“Where’s Chris?” Ben asked, looking around and Jess felt grateful to him for saving her from asking the same question.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m afraid he had to go. He was very sorry not to say goodbye, but he had an emergency last night while you were fast asleep.” She spoke as if that was an everyday occurrence and did not betray any real concern as she bustled off to fetch breakfast.

Jess felt deeply disappointed. She wondered what kind of emergency could have dragged him away. It was as if the romantic little dream of yesterday had been exactly that. A dream. This morning everything seemed different and ordinary. She began to wonder again if she’d merely imagined last night’s magic.

At the reception desk, she produced her credit card to settle her bill before leaving. Mr Goodchild sat hunched over a computer, seemingly oblivious to her.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, my dear. It’s all taken care of. Christian insisted.” Mrs Goodchild told her with a wave of her hand in the direction of her wallet.

Jess looked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh of course! I nearly forgot. He left you a note. Your bill is all taken care of. You're not to give it another thought. And may I say, it’s been a real pleasure to have you both.” She reached behind the desk and produced a cream envelope with the hotel logo on it.

Jess ripped it open eagerly and quickly scanned the single sheet of hotel paper.

Dear Jess,

I’m sorry I’ve had to leave without explaining or saying goodbye to you and Ben. Something urgent has come up. If you’d care to leave your phone number with my parents, I’ll contact you soon and explain all.

The roads are looking better, but all the same, take it easy. And most of all, have a very Happy Christmas.

Regards,

Chris.

Jess read it through twice, unable to suppress the stab of disappointment at its matter of fact tone, lack of any explanation and air of finality. She looked back up into the kindly, motherly face of Mrs Goodchild.

“Thank you, but I can’t possibly let him pay for my bill. I absolutely insist!”

Mrs Goodchild laughed. “And I’m afraid I absolutely refuse! You clearly don’t know my son as well as I do. He was adamant about that and, with all due respect, Jess – I’d rather disappoint you than incur his wrath for not doing as I’m told! Oh yes, and I also have something for Ben. She withdrew three shiny pound coins from her overall pocket and held them out to Ben. “He said he owed you two and one for interest.”

Ben accepted the coins eagerly while Jess looked on bemused. She tried to argue again but Mrs Goodchild raised her hands, palms outward to silence her, so instead Jess gave her a big hug and Ben quickly followed suit.

“Come and see us again soon,” Mr and Mrs Goodchild called from the front door as they waved them off. Jess nodded, knowing she wanted to but equally knowing she was unlikely to do so.

4

Christian sighed as the car began to weave through the tortuous labyrinth of streets in London’s West End. More and more of these were being closed off to traffic every week, which made accessing his Mayfair house well-nigh impossible. Not that the restrictions deterred the die-hard paparazzi who seemed to be permanently camped outside his door. He had long given up attempting to drive himself in central London. He felt mildly irritated that Amber had pulled her stunt there when the rest of the group had the full run of the Surrey house – which had far better security - this Christmas. He wondered if she’d done it because she knew the paps were camped outside but the moment he had that thought, he felt guilty.

But then Amber was a huge, prickly thorn in his side and he was beginning to think she would be there for life, ruining all his future chances of happiness. It wasn’t as if she really cared about him any more – they’d both long ago accepted that it wouldn’t work between them – but she couldn’t stand the fact that he was trying to pursue a life without her. She might not want him anymore but she wanted to keep her control over him.

In the early days of the band, they’d worked well together. The chemistry between them seemed to be injected into their music and they couldn’t do anything wrong. Together they made the band what it was. They
were
the band in the eyes of the world. And the world seemed to love them. But three years on the road and all the other stuff between them had killed the romance. Besides, they’d both had enough of that life. Perhaps they’d grown up; certainly they were tired – of the band and of each other - and needed something new to spur them on.

Then Hollywood came knocking at his door and the entire band agreed to take a break and explore different avenues. They were all feeling the strain. There was no talk of splitting up, contrary to what the tabloids proclaimed, just of them all taking some time out to explore other avenues. In fact a couple of them formed a new band in the wake of the first but the style was different and the big hits had eluded them. They all remained the best of friends and were in regular contact; unanimous in their agreement that if the right song came up, the original members would reunite at the drop of a hat.

Christian was probably luckier than the rest of them in that he landed himself a part in a film that became an instant cult hit and before he knew it, the critics were hailing him as a serious actor. It was only a small supporting role, but a significant one. Sequels and prequels followed – in that typical way Hollywood has of reinventing the past and in each one he made a cameo appearance – and other offers rolled in. When he wasn’t acting in films, he was taking acting lessons in order to do so. He enjoyed the life at first and even wondered why he’d chosen music above it in the first place. He’d always been good at drama at school and that should have guided him. But then he couldn’t regret the years with the band. They’d been some of the best of his life and he wouldn’t have missed them for anything.

“I’m going to take you round the back way. The press is camped outside,” George, his driver, told him.

Christian nodded. George was a former rally driver. He could snake in and out of traffic through London’s narrowest streets as if he and his vehicle were made of soft rubber. George was also the epitome of discretion and loyalty. Christian often felt he could trust him more than his personal manager.

“She’ll be okay, Chris. I’m sure of it. I’m just sorry she’s managed to ruin your Christmas with your folks.” George said, not for the first time since he’d picked Chris up at his parents’ hotel.

Christian nodded again. He wasn’t too worried about his parents since they were used to his rapid comings and goings and he felt reasonably certain he’d get back in time to spend Christmas Day with them at the latest. But he was sorry not to have seen Jess again. Sorry to leave that little chapter unfinished on a cliff-hanger. It might have had a disappointing finish, but he would have liked to discover that for himself. To turn the next page and just see what happened.

She was enchanting, that was the best word he could think of to describe her. When he’d caught her in his arms as she was about to tumble into the snow, she was suddenly his for a fleeting moment and he wanted her. It was as if she belonged to him completely as he held her in his arms. He experienced a strange sensation of them being like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle slotting beautifully and perfectly into place with that same satisfying sense of rightness. She’d looked up at him, not with fear or with that knowing, calculating expression he’d seen all too often in the eyes of women who wanted to be with him, or who just imagined themselves in love with him - not the real him, of course, but their own idealised image of him. He’d seen none of that false adoration in Jess’s eyes, no mask, no hidden agenda, only equality and a faint hint of mischief and fun. Had there been something else there too? Had she felt it as well?