White-Hot Christmas (22 page)

He waited for her to yell at him, to scream, to throw something, to do anything that would give him an excuse to feel justified for making such a horrific accusation.

But she didn’t. Twin spots of scarlet appeared on her cheeks, although the rest of her face was white. She gave a small, sharp laugh. “Right.” Her gaze remained on the floor.

Without looking up again, she turned. Collecting her skirt and bag, she walked out of the room.

He heard her going along the hall and the front door opening and closing. There was a moment’s pause, presumably while she pulled on her skirt, then he heard her footsteps on the gravel, running up the drive.

It was the worst day he’d ever spent at work, the worst mood he’d ever been in, and they put up with him until about three thirty before finally sending him home.

He drove to his house too fast, went inside and walked around banging doors, then tried to have a workout, only succeeding in nearly pulling a muscle in his shoulder when he attempted to lift weights without properly warming up. Cursing, he went into the living room, took out the whisky and poured himself a large glass. Drinking it in one go, grimacing, he poured himself another, then sat in the chair by the window and glowered.

Several hours went by, and he gradually got drunk, so miserable he couldn’t motivate himself to eat or read or do anything but sit there, cursing Merle, and Bree for introducing him to her, and everyone else he could think of for having a part in this stupid situation.

At six thirty, there was a knock at the door.

“Go away!” he yelled. He knocked back the last half-inch in the glass and poured another.

Whoever it was banged on the glass. “Open up, Neon, I know you’re in there!” It was Jake.

Neon walked over unsteadily and yanked the door open. “What?” he barked.

Jake glared at him. “You fucking idiot.” He pushed past him into the living room.

“Please, come in.” Neon gestured to the space in front of him then closed the door. He walked past Jake to his chair, sat and took a mouthful of the amber liquid. He’d long since given up getting ice.

Jake stood in front of him, fixing him with a heated stare.

Neon shot him a dark look. “I presume you’re going to tell me why you swore at me.”

“You told her about the bet. What the hell did you do that for?”

Neon looked out of the window. “She was about to tell me she loved me, if you must know, not that it’s any of your business.”

“And you stopped her with that little revelation? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Neon slammed the glass on the table and stood up. “I overheard her talking to her mother—Merle told her I didn’t mean anything to her.”

“She didn’t mean it, Neon. She’s crazy about you.”

“If she is, it’s because of that stupid bet, because I made her say it. What does it mean if someone else makes you say it?”

“You didn’t make her say it, you idiot. You can’t force someone to say something like that. So you turned on the charm, romanced her a little, what’s wrong with that? It’s what we do with women. Can you honestly tell me every single second you were thinking about the bet? Planning what to do next to make it come true?”

Neon said nothing, glowering at his cousin.

“Anyone with eyes can see she’s crazy about you, man, and it’s nothing to do with what we said that day on the beach. She came here looking for fun, and so did you, but something happened, something neither of you expected. It’s nobody’s fault, and no one’s to blame. It happens. It’s supposed to be a good thing.”

Neon’s heart twisted inside him. “But her mother…”

Jake frowned. “Their mother’s ill. She’s going into hospital with a suspected brain tumour. That’s what she told Merle when she rang. She should have waited until Merle got home—it’s only another couple of days, after all, but that’s what she’s like. She wouldn’t have passed up any opportunity to play the guilt card. That’s why Merle was trying to convince her she wasn’t staying here. She feels responsible for her mother’s happiness—Susan lays on the guilt with a trowel. You have no idea what Merle and Bree have been through.”

Neon went cold. He remembered Merle saying her mother was sure the cancer was still there, that she could feel it. “Where’s Merle now?”

Jake heaved a big sigh. He studied Neon for a second before saying, “She’s gone. She took the five thirty from Kerikeri to Auckland. And Bree’s gone with her.”

Neon stared at him. “Bree’s gone?”

“She’s not left me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Jake wryly. “Although I am in the doghouse, thanks to you. She’s gone with Merle to be with her mother.”

Neon sat, his head in his hands. “Oh Jesus.” His head was spinning.

Jake swore. “You’re drunk.”

Neon sighed.

“I’m gonna go. I’ll come by tomorrow. Get some sleep. You look like shit.”

“Cheers, man.”

Jake didn’t laugh. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll see sense in the morning.” He paused. “I guess Bree’s curse came true, eh?”

Neon said nothing. Jake was wrong. Whatever he felt for Merle, it wasn’t love. He’d only known her for a week, for Christ’s sake. Jake was well out of order.

His cousin walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

Neon sat back in the chair and looked out the window. The pukekos were walking up the lawn, tripping over their big red feet. Merle had exclaimed at their colour, had said they were walking cartoons. It had made him smile at the time. Now he couldn’t get his mouth to move.

A while later, when it was completely dark, there was another knock at the door. Neon was dozing and couldn’t be bothered to get up. He only realised he hadn’t locked the door when it swung open.

“It’s me.” Julia came in, closing the door behind her. She walked over to him and perched on the arm of his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, looked up at her, then looked away.

“I’m guessing you’ve spoken to Jake.” His voice was croaky and he coughed to clear it.

“Yes, he rang me.”

Neon heaved a heavy, ragged sigh. “She’s gone, Mum.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Guess I screwed that one up, didn’t I?”

She laughed. “Kinda.” She studied him, pity in her eyes. “Are you all right, darling? Physically, I mean? That’s quite a large dressing on your neck.”

“It’s okay. Merle cleaned it for me.” He cleared his throat again, looked at the glass in his hand. It was empty. He put the glass on the table. He didn’t want any more to drink, he’d had enough already.

He looked up at her. “You’re going to say ‘I told you so’, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not.”

“You should do.” He sighed again. “How did you know? That she was different than all the others, I mean.”

“It was written all over your face from day one.”

“What was?”

“That you love her.”

He stared at her, startled. “Love?”

Julia stared back. “Oh no, don’t tell me that’s the reason you didn’t tell her.”

“I…” He was having difficulty forming thoughts in his head. “I like being with her. I can’t stop thinking about her. I miss her so much it hurts.”

“Kind of the definition, sweetheart.”

He loved her. He loved Merle. Oh Christ, he was the village idiot. He deserved to be shot.

He leaned forward, put his head in his hands. “I was cruel to her, Mum. I…” He let his voice trail off. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he’d said.

She leaned forward and touched his hair. “We all say things we don’t mean when we’re hurting. She’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gone.”

“So, you’re going to give up, is that it?”

He glared at her. “Well, what would you have me do? She’s gone back to England.”

“Neon, she’s not dead. She may be a few miles away, but she’s still in the land of the living. Ever heard of a phone?”

“What’s the point?” He stood up unsteadily. “She’s got a life there, I’ve got a life here.”

“So did Bree and Jake,” his mother pointed out quietly. “Sometimes one of you has to give a little more in a relationship. And I know it’s doesn’t come naturally to you, sweetheart, but in this case it might have to be you.” She stood up. “I’m going now. I suggest you get to bed, have a good night’s sleep and in the morning have a think about what you want to do.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, you know that, don’t you? You’re a good boy.”

He pouted. “I’m not fifteen.”

“Inside, all men are fifteen,” she said wryly. “Now go to bed before you fall over.”

Neon locked the door behind her and went to bed as she had suggested. But in spite of all the alcohol, sleep didn’t come immediately.

Outside there was a morepork sitting somewhere in the jacaranda tree and he could hear it calling clearly, “More pork, more pork!” Merle had loved the sound, saying it was so much more interesting than all the owls she’d heard in England.

Merle… He thought he’d blown it, ruined his chances. Was it possible there was a way he could win her back? His mother had implied there would be sacrifice involved. He wasn’t great at that. He was an only child—he’d led a very selfish life up until now, with no thought of anything but what he wanted and the quickest way to get it, with little regard for anyone else’s feelings. Was he capable of being any different?

Maybe it was time to find out.

Chapter Eighteen

The cold January afternoon was dark and depressing. Merle leaned her head against the window of the train and tried to rest, but it wasn’t easy. The train was packed, and a couple of families played loud games farther along the carriage, trying to keep their children amused. She had a headache and terrible jet lag, but the noise kept her awake.

Not that she would have been able to sleep much, anyway. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Neon’s face, his eyes cold as he said those terrible, hurtful things. She never wanted to sleep again.

Across the table, Bree read a book, casting the occasional concerned glance across at Merle. Merle had been glad of the way Bree took over the organisation of their travel, directing Merle to the appropriate terminals, finding them taxis, sorting out their seats. Merle had felt like a lost child, permanently close to tears, wanting to go home, curl into a ball in bed and pull the duvet over her head. But instead she’d had to sit on a plane for twenty-six hours, unable to have any privacy unless she went into the tiny toilet cubicle where she’d stared at herself in the mirror, seeing the dark shadows under her eyes and wondering if her lips would ever curve in a smile again.

And now she felt scruffy and in dire need of a shower and fresh clothing. The journey was interminably long, and by the time they pulled in at Exeter St David’s, her eyes were scratchy, she had an upset stomach from eating food at all the wrong times, and her irritation level was skyscraper high.

They caught a taxi home, pulled up and heaved their suitcases out the boot. Bree paid the driver while Merle studied the house nervously. They’d let Susan know they were flying home early before they left, but they’d been unable to reach her on the phone at the airport, and Merle had left her English mobile behind when she left for New Zealand. Had Susan been rushed to hospital? Oh God, were they too late?

She walked up the path, past her car, which was still sitting on the drive, and dropped her suitcase, fumbled for her key and fitted it in the lock. Behind her, Bree called for her to wait, picking up her own cases, but Merle ignored her and opened the front door. She entered the lounge, seeing it in darkness, and her heart thumped in fear. “Mum?” She walked through the house, calling, but there was no reply. Clearly, there was nobody at home.

“Merle?” Bree finally appeared behind her in the kitchen.

“She’s not here.” Panic swept over Merle, making her breathless. “Oh God, Bree, what if she’s been taken ill…”

“Let’s not get upset until we know what’s happened.” Bree held Merle by her upper arms. “Come on, you’re shivering. Sit down and I’ll get you a brandy.”

“I don’t want a drink.” But Merle sat anyway, putting her face in her hands. Her stomach was a tangled knot of emotion—guilt, fear, grief, loss. Bree rattled around in the cupboards, and then Merle felt a glass pushed into her hand. She looked blankly at the amber liquid.

“Drink it,” Bree urged gently. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Merle sipped it and shuddered. It made her think of Neon, drinking whisky on the night of the accident. “I don’t want it.” She pushed it away.

“Merle, sweetie.” Bree was white with concern and dropped to her knees to put her arms around her sister as tears welled in Merle’s eyes. “Oh don’t cry, everything will be all right, you’ll see.”

“I miss him.” Merle burst into tears. “I know it’s terrible and Mum might be ill and dying somewhere alone in a hospital, but all I can think about is how much I miss him.”

“Oh, Merle.”

They hugged for a minute or so, Merle’s tears soaking into Bree’s jumper. They were both wearing thick clothing, and Merle suddenly realised she was warm. The central heating was on. Her mother hated to waste money and always turned off the heating when she knew she was going away, even though Merle told her there was a threat of a burst pipe when she did that. Of course, if she’d been rushed into hospital, she might not have had time to switch it off. Either that, or…

Bree lifted her head. “There’s someone at the door.”

The two of them stood. A key turned in the lock, and they heard the front door open. They walked through into the lounge, and there was their mother, shopping bags in her hand, a big smile on her face as she saw her daughters. “I didn’t think you’d be here until this evening!” She came forward and wrapped her arms around a stunned Bree. “Sweetheart, it’s wonderful to see you.” Then she came over and did the same to a frozen Merle. “Darling, lovely to have you home.”

Merle waited until Susan had pulled back, and then studied her. She wore makeup, and her skin was rosy. She looked healthy and happy. The shopping bags were full of food.

“Where have you been?” Merle said stupidly.