Golden Christmas (2 page)

"My apartment is just down here." With a hand
to the wall, he took eight steps, then touched the varnished door
that he only ever locked in the summer when members of the public
visited the house.

Jonathan pushed on the door, and Honey's
sleek body brushed his leg. He angled his head and listened, half
fearing Vicky had doubled back and gone, but the faint rustling of
fabric and her sigh reassured him she was still there.

In his rooms, Jonathan could move about
easily. He kept everything in its place and had a clear mental map
of the space. "My medication is in a tray on my chest of drawers in
the bedroom. If you want to follow me." He'd thought he had a few
hours before the headache got worse, but it was bad already.

An uncomfortable prickle of heat up his neck
made him feel like a teenage boy asking a girl to his room for the
first time, awkward and clumsy and not sure what to do.

His fingers rose to the scar on his forehead.
He massaged the ridge of skin that marked the near-fatal head
injury. He hated being blind and scarred. Sometimes he even forgot
he was the lucky one. He'd escaped the twisted wreck of the Army
Mastiff alive after it ran over an IED. Three of the men under his
command had died there.

Vicky
paused at the door to Jonathan's bedroom, taking in the heavy dark
wooden furniture that looked about as old as the house. She was
awkward with this whole situation. Part of her wished she'd taken
the other path, but then she wouldn't have met this man, and he
obviously needed help. "Are you really all alone in this huge
house?"

"My brother and his wife normally occupy the
east wing, but they've gone to Mauritius for Christmas."

"And left you on your own?" That didn't seem
very considerate. She shut down the little voice inside that said
she was equally uncaring of her parents' feelings.

Jonathan just shrugged. He touched the foot
of the bed to get his bearings and moved to a chest of drawers. A
tray on top was loaded with containers of pills. He picked up a box
and ran his fingers over the raised pattern of dots on the
back.

Vicky had noticed the Braille on packets of
medication she'd been prescribed. She couldn't imagine how anyone
read the dots.

"Did you want me to check the packets for
you?" She took a tentative step closer to this tall, imposing man.
Despite his obvious vulnerability, his bearing and the self-assured
note in his voice gave the impression he was not a man to
underestimate.

"I'm pretty sure the migraine stuff I want
isn't here. I've checked and rechecked. What I need you to do is
search behind the chest of drawers in case the packet has dropped
down there." Jonathan crouched and pushed his fingers in the gap
between the piece of heavy wooden furniture and the wall. "I've
checked as far as I can reach."

"Okay." Vicky slipped between him and the
bed, accidentally knocking his arm. He jerked away, and she quickly
apologized.

"Don't worry." He brushed the apology aside
with a swipe of his hand. "You took me by surprise, that's
all."

Vicky squatted and peered into the narrow
cobwebby gap. "Do you have a coat hanger or something I can use to
reach in?"

Jonathan moved surprisingly fast, going
straight to the wardrobe and returning with a wire coat hanger. She
poked it behind the chest of drawers and dragged out a huge dead
spider and a dust bunny.

"Anything?"

"Not yet."

Jonathan rested a hand on the wall and angled
his head as if listening. Vicky fished around with the hanger some
more, finding nothing but dust, so she slid it beneath the piece of
furniture.

"Bingo," she said, wiping off a flat blue box
before holding it out.

Fingers stroking across the Braille marks,
Jonathan blew out a breath. "Wonderful. Thanks. You're a
lifesaver." He sat on the edge of the bed and popped two tablets
from the foil, then swallowed them with a sip of water from a glass
on his bedside table.

He closed his eyes tightly and pressed a hand
to his forehead. Honey had been sitting in the doorway. Now she
went to him and rested her chin on his knee.

"Hey, girl. I'm all right. Don't worry."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Vicky wanted
nothing more than to get away and resume her run, but all the color
had drained from Jonathan's face, leaving his complexion sickly
gray.

"Actually, if you could get me the bowl out
of the bathtub before you go, that would be great. The bathroom's
off the hallway."

Vicky found the cozy bathroom, the modern
fittings all adapted with handholds and non-slip surfaces to make
it safer. She grabbed the white plastic bowl out of the tub and
returned to the bedroom. Jonathan had taken off his shoes and coat,
and turned back the covers on his bed.

"Where would you like the bowl?"

"I'll take it." Jonathan set it on the bed at
his side. "I really appreciate your help. I wasn't looking forward
to coping without the tablets."

"How long will the migraine last?"

"No more than twenty-four hours if I'm
lucky."

"Honey will need to go out again before
then."

"I'll have to make it downstairs to open the
door for her tonight. Tomorrow morning, my cousin Owen will stop by
to see me."

"I can come back and let her out later, if
you like."

"Are you sure?"

No. She wasn't sure. All she wanted to do was
be on her own. But she couldn't let this poor guy struggle alone
when he was feeling bad. "Of course. I don't have anything else to
do." Vicky laughed, and it came out as more of a self-pitying
gasp.

Jonathan pressed his hand over his forehead,
and Vicky retreated to the door. "I'll leave you alone and pop back
this evening, then."

As she pulled the bedroom door closed, she
caught a glimpse of him as he lay down, still fully clothed.

Were his migraines related to the scar on his
head? He'd obviously been in an accident. On her way to the door,
she passed a sideboard in the sitting room. Behind a pile of
Braille books, a framed photograph had been pushed to the back. She
picked it up and angled it towards the light coming through the
window. It was a shot of soldiers in uniform somewhere hot and
sandy with a military vehicle in the background. There were two
rows of men and Jonathan stood in the middle of the front row,
smiling, his brown eyes fixed on the camera.

He'd been an army officer, by the look of it.
Vicky pressed a hand to her throat, taking in every detail of
him—his tanned and muscular forearms, short dark hair, and
classically handsome face. His expression radiated confidence, his
eyes alert with intelligence.

This was his
before
picture, before
fate kicked him in the teeth and ruined his life. She touched the
bulge where her phone was stowed in her jacket pocket, remembering
her own before pictures, and tears pricked her eyes.

• • •

Vicky sat on the sofa in the freezing sitting room of
her rental property, her phone cradled in her chilly hands. The
central heating wouldn't come on, and she couldn't be bothered to
bring in logs and light the fire. She couldn't be bothered to make
a cup of tea and have something to eat either, even though she was
hungry. After seeing Jonathan's before photo, the compulsion to
look at her own was overwhelming.

Still clothed in her ski jacket and thermal
hat, she scrolled through the five images on her phone that would
have fallen apart from being handled if they were printed
photos.

On that terrible Christmas morning, Colin and
Josh had gone to the playground by the school to build a snowman
while she prepared Christmas dinner. Colin had texted her five
photos to show her what they were doing.

Every time her phone chimed, she'd stopped
peeling vegetables and dried her hands on a dishtowel while she
checked what her husband had sent. The first photo was a selfie of
Josh on Colin's shoulders, both her boys grinning at the camera.
The second was of Josh sticking his tongue out, the third of Josh
with an armful of snow, the fourth of Josh lying in the snow
giggling, and the fifth, her favorite, was of her two boys on
either side of the snowman they'd built.

Tears streamed down her face and she made no
attempt to wipe them. These pictures were her last contact with the
two most precious people in her life, her soul mate and her darling
little boy. They had died nearly four years ago, yet her grief was
still as raw as if she'd lost them yesterday.

The playground had been a five-minute walk
from their home, yet in those few minutes a driver had lost control
of his car on the icy hill and plowed into Colin and Josh. They'd
both died at the scene of the accident, even depriving her of a
bedside vigil to give her time to say good-bye.

Car headlights flashed through the gatehouse
window as a vehicle passed on the narrow country road outside,
dragging Vicky back to the present. She wiped her eyes with the
side of her hand and got up to fetch a bunch of tissues from her
bag.

If only she'd gone with Colin and Josh that
morning, she'd have been taken too. Why did she have to be left
behind on her own?

She wiped her eyes and sucked in a breath
thick with tears. Darkness had fallen outside, and it was dark
inside as well. She switched on a light and blinked at the sudden
brightness. The gatehouse was comfortably furnished, but she
couldn't care less. Where she lived didn't matter now. Without
Colin and Josh, nothing mattered.

She noticed the time on her phone screen and
a thought penetrated her morose gloom. It was getting late. Honey
would need to go outside. If Vicky didn't go and let her out,
Jonathan would have to get up and struggle downstairs in the cold
with a pounding head.

Vicky blew her nose and pushed her phone in
her jacket pocket. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and
disappear, but she'd made a promise to Jonathan and she had to keep
it. Pulling on her fur-lined boots, she grabbed a flashlight
hanging by the front door and stepped out into the freezing
air.

Darkness had lowered the temperature. Her
cheeks stung where the tears froze against her skin. Directing the
beam of light on the path, Vicky made her way along the shortest
route to Rosemoor Hall. Security lights popped on as she reached
the building and found the door.

It felt strange walking into someone else's
house without knocking, especially a huge manor house like this. In
the flashlight beam, she found a light switch and clicked on the
hall light before tucking the flashlight in her pocket.

A tiny spark of curiosity flared as she
peered along the shadowy hallway into the depths of the historic
house. This entrance would have been used by the servants. Along
the corridor must be a kitchen, pantries, and food-prep rooms. Yet
almost immediately the flash of interest was extinguished beneath
her resurging misery.

She retraced her steps from earlier,
ascending the narrow wooden staircase, her footfalls hollow and
echoing. She tapped lightly on the door to Jonathan's apartment,
not really expecting a reply. When none came, she cautiously opened
the door.

Honey was waiting just inside, a light patch
in the dark room. Vicky switched on a light and patted the dog as
she wriggled her way closer, tail wagging.

"Do you want to go outside for a run, girl?"
Honey's tail beat faster, and she picked up a ball from a basket by
the door.

"Too late for games tonight. I'm sure you'll
get to play ball tomorrow, though."

Vicky let the dog out and followed her down
the stairs, Honey's claws clattering on the wood. The security
light popped on over the back door, and they wandered around the
patch of gravel and lawn that was illuminated.

An owl hooted nearby and in the distance a
fox barked, a mournful sound that echoed through the darkness.
While Holly sniffed around, Vicky turned her face up to the endless
expanse of blackness speckled with stars. How could the world still
be so beautiful? It didn't seem fair.

After fifteen minutes when her nose grew so
cold it hurt, Vicky took Honey back inside, wiping her paws on an
old towel she found on a peg just inside the door.

She followed Honey upstairs and let her into
Jonathan's apartment. Going inside felt strange, as if she were
invading his space, but she wanted to look in on him to make sure
he was okay.

Switching on the hall light, she peered
inside the bedroom door that Honey had already nudged open.
Jonathan lay still with his back to her, presumably asleep. Honey
jumped on the bed and stretched out at his side with her head on
the second pillow.

A rare smile pulled at Vicky's lips. Honey
was so sweet and obviously not just a guide dog—she was a companion
as well. Maybe Vicky's well-meaning mother had been right when
she'd recommended that a dog would help Vicky recover and move
on.

Vicky
followed the same path on her run as she had the previous day, but
today she made no pretense of taking the turn away from the house.
She headed purposefully along the route that took her in front of
the manor house so she could see if Jonathan was out with
Honey.

As she fell asleep last night, her rambling
thoughts had included images of him throwing the ball for Honey,
mingled with memories of him curled up in bed in pain. A twinge of
something she hadn't felt for a long time tightened in her chest.
Did she really care about a man she'd only just met?

The rectangle of lawn where she'd first seen
Jonathan came into view but it was empty. Cold and silent, the old
house stood brooding beneath the overcast sky. The clouds hung dark
and leaden above. Snow was forecast, and it looked as though the
clouds were full to bursting, just waiting to drop their freezing
burden on the silently waiting earth.