White-Hot Christmas (23 page)

“Sainsbury’s.” Susan gave her an odd look, pointing to the named carrier bags. “Obviously.” She took off her coat and went into the hall to hang it up.

Merle’s eyes met Bree’s. Bree gave a small shake of her head.

Susan came back in. “I’m going to make Shepherd’s Pie for tea—I know you both love that.” She stopped as she saw them staring at her, and looked from one of them to the other. “What’s the matter?”

“You…” Merle’s voice was faint. “You said you were going back into hospital.”

Susan waved a hand breezily. “I had a few headaches, quite bad ones. But the doctor said they’re nothing to worry about.” She looked slightly sheepish. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I was upset when I spoke to you. I…probably got carried away a bit.”

“Got carried away?” Merle’s voice grew stronger. “You said you were dying!”

Susan frowned. “I was stressed, I got confused.”

“Confused?” Merle gave a humourless laugh. She glared at her mother. “You weren’t confused. You knew perfectly well what you were doing, didn’t you?”

“Merle…” Bree warned, reaching out a hand, but Merle shook her off.

Susan coloured. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Tears stung Merle’s eyes. “I said he didn’t mean anything to me because I wanted to make you feel better. And he heard me. He thinks I don’t love him.”

Susan rolled her eyes and carried a couple of the bags into the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, “You’ve known him what, two weeks? You don’t love him, darling, he was just a fling, you said so yourself.”

“Mum.” Bree’s voice was sharp. She looked helplessly at Merle. “God, Merle, I’m so sorry…”

Merle bit her lip hard, but she couldn’t hold back the tears that spilled out and down her cheeks. Susan came in for the other bags, glancing at Merle as she passed, slowing and then stopping as she saw the look on Merle’s face.

“I loved him, Mum,” Merle whispered. “And I threw it all away because of you.”

Susan opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She went white, and her lip trembled.

“Don’t you dare cry,” Merle said harshly. “Don’t you dare!”

“Sweetheart.” Susan dropped the bags and came over. “I know I’m a burden to you, and you’re so wonderful for looking after me…”

“Don’t touch me.” Merle stepped back. Icy calm settled over her. “I’m done, Mum.”

“What?” Both Bree and Susan looked shocked.

“That’s it. I’m not going to do it anymore.” Merle looked around for her handbag and picked it up, putting the strap over her shoulder. “I’m done being the dutiful daughter.”

“What do you mean?” Susan looked appalled. “I need you.”

“No, Mum, you really don’t.” Merle picked up her car keys. “And I’ve spent way too many years living your life instead of my own. I’m moving out.” She walked past them to the doorway.

“You’re leaving me?” Susan looked suddenly hunched and pitiful, but Merle hardened her heart.

“You’re still my mother, and I’m still your daughter. I can’t change that. But I’m not going to be your slave anymore. I have things I want to do—I want to travel, to work abroad, to get married, Mum, and have children.”

“Are you going back to him?” Susan asked in a small voice.

Merle swallowed. She still loved him. But the memory of his cruel words and the hardness in his eyes would not be easily shaken. She shook her head. “No, that relationship’s done. But there are other fish in the sea.” She tried not to think of Neon branding his name into her skin.
Every time you make love to another guy, I want you to think of me.
She shook her head again. “He’s not the only man in the world. I
will
find someone else, and I
will
be happy.”

She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry again. “And if you ever want to see me again, or Bree, you’re going to have to think long and hard about how you’ve behaved toward us. You’re going to have to change, Mum, if you don’t want to lose us both.”

She glanced at Bree. “Are you coming?”

Bree smiled. “No, you go. I’ll stay and make sure…everything’s all right.”

Merle nodded. Turning, she walked out of the house.

Nine Days Later

Merle stood to one side of the huge white screen, looking up at an aerial photograph of a deserted medieval village. It was the first day of the university spring term. This was her third lecture of the day, and she was having trouble concentrating.

Focus
, she told herself. It was semidark in the lecture theatre, and the students fidgeted, cold and restless. The double doors leading into the room had already banged open and shut several times, and although she liked to teach in a relaxed atmosphere, not wanting to treat the students as if they were still children, even she could get irritated with their constant comings and goings.

As she went to speak, the doors banged again. “Please sit down and stop interrupting my class,” she said out loud, without turning around. There was a pause and then the creak of a seat. She cleared her throat. “So here you can see the remains of a village that died out in the years following the Black Death. As you all know, hopefully, if you did my course last year, after the plague swept through England, killing up to half the population, there was much relocation in the countryside as workers moved around, charging more for their services, and as a result many villages dwindled.”

Her hands were behind her back, holding the wireless mouse to her laptop, and she now flicked the button with her thumb, changing the picture. “This village in Dorset is a great example, you can see here the grass is lighter in colour, showing stone walls underneath, and here it’s darker, indicating some kind of pit.” She turned and nodded to the student sitting by the lights, who flicked them back on.

“So, those were a few examples of the ways you can tell from the air that a settlement expanded or contracted.” She returned to the podium where she had placed her notes. She checked her watch quickly—she was about halfway through the lecture. Her head ached, but she knew that was probably due to lack of sleep. Perhaps she should have taken the first week off. She shuffled through her notes. It would have been so easy to ask to extend her leave, but it was unsettling for the students not to have their main lecturer there, and besides, she’d wanted to distract herself from recent events.

Now, though, she began to wonder if she’d made the right decision. She sighed, putting the sheet on top that had bullet points of ways aerial photography could help trace the development of settlements. She had to keep going, there was nothing else to be done. “We’ve talked about deserted medieval villages. Now let’s think about towns and how we can trace the ways they change.”

She looked up, glancing around the lecture theatre. Most of the students were engaged, many writing notes, in spite of the fidgeting. A couple were whispering up at the back, but she didn’t mind, as long as they were quiet. She glanced over to the right to see who’d come in late.

And then her heart stopped completely.

For a moment she thought she was imagining him. How could he possibly be here, in England, in the university, in her lecture? It didn’t make sense. He sat on the end of one of the benches, one arm hooked over the back, watching her. He wore a black, V-necked sweater over a white T-shirt, with dark jeans, and he looked incredibly brown compared to the white teenagers around him. His appearance was completely incongruous in the university setting, like a palm tree suddenly sprouting out of snow. He met her gaze calmly, unsmiling.

She’d been staring so long her students were glancing at one another, puzzled. Several of them followed her gaze, and they nudged each other, pointing to where he sat. He ignored them, his gaze fixed only on her.

She returned to her notes. Her mind had gone completely blank. She stared at her writing but couldn’t get her brain to work at all.

She cleared her throat. “Towns.” Jesus, what had she been saying?
Deserted medieval villages, aerial photography, yes, that was it
. “We can also trace the growth and decline of towns by looking at aerial photographs of the surrounding landscape…” Her voice trailed off. Her heart pounded, and she felt faint. If she wasn’t careful, she’d pass out right in front of the whole class.

She made a decision and gathered her notes together. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to cut this class short.” She didn’t dare look up at him. “I’ll see you again tomorrow at two. I’ll continue this lecture then.”

She turned her back on the class and began to put her notes away and pack up her laptop. There was a moment of silence and then the students started shuffling, gathering their books together and making for the exit.

The doors banged shut for the final time, and she hesitated. He was going to be there, she knew. She zipped up her laptop case as his footsteps came down the steps, then turned and saw him leaning against the front bench, six feet away, watching her, arms folded.

“Hi,” he said.

She stared at him. Her heart thundered. “What do you want?” She made her voice icy.

He studied her for a moment. “I came to see how you are.”

“I’m fine. See? You can go now.” She turned and picked up her case.

“Merle… Bree told me about your mother. About how she’s been behaving.” His voice was noncommittal. Was he sympathetic or angry that her mother had caused Merle to finish their relationship?

She paused, her fingers clutching the case. Her throat tightened so much she couldn’t speak.

He continued. “Bree also told me you’ve moved out. That you’ve told Susan you’re not going to be at her beck and call anymore.”

She put the strap of the case over her shoulder. “Yeah, well. She’s still my mother.”

“I know.”

“I can’t just abandon her…”

“I know, Merle.” His voice was gentle. “But I’m still glad you stood up to her.”

She looked at her feet and closed her eyes momentarily. This was too hard.

“The boy’s going to be okay.” He cleared his throat. “The boy I rescued. He made it through. I’ve been to see him. I bought him a Fireman Sam book.”

She turned. “I’m glad. Thanks for letting me know.” She walked toward the exit.

“Don’t go.” His voice was gentle. “Stay and talk to me for a bit.”

“Talk about what? How my mother ruined our relationship? Or how you insulted me?” Her cheeks burned with indignation. “I don’t think so.”

“Merle, wait. I’ve come thirteen thousand miles to see you.”

She spun around. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know. But at least hear me out.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to listen to you.” Anger and hurt threatened to overwhelm her. She felt a mishmash of emotions all knotted up like a bunch of worms wriggling around in her stomach. Anger at her mother, guilt over her relief at finally being free, hurt at the memory of what Neon had said to her, panic at seeing him again. New Zealand had been a stupid mistake—why did he have to come here and remind her of it? She turned to go.

“For God’s sake, will you talk to me for a minute?” He stopped as one of the doors opened and a student stuck his head in.

“Miss Cameron, can you tell us what time the seminar is—”

“Get out!” Neon yelled. The student disappeared hurriedly.

Merle stared at Neon, aghast. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I want—”

“It’s not all about you, Neon! This is
my
place of work,
my
life. You can’t walk in here and do this to me. How dare you interrupt my lecture—how dare you yell at my students!”

He glared at her, hands on hips. She could see him biting back his words. She met his gaze, letting her anger and hurt fill her eyes. Eventually his gaze dropped, and he looked at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She was close to breaking down. “I’ve got a job to do—I would never have come into the station and demanded you drop everything and speak to me.” She took a deep breath. “I appreciate you flew here and it’s a long way and it’s expensive, but you should have asked first. My holiday was fun, and I had a great time, but all that belonged to New Zealand—it doesn’t belong here. I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to talk to you.”

He slid his hands into the pockets of jeans, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

She walked past him, pausing at the door. She was trembling, but she knew she had to be hard. “Go away, Neon. I’ve got another lecture soon, and I need to concentrate.”

“Please, Merle. Look, if not now, then later? A little bird told me you sometimes go to The King’s Head in the evenings. Meet me there, say, seven o’clock?”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Just to talk.”

“I can’t, Neon.” She bit her lip, tears pricking her eyes. “Leave me alone, please. I don’t want to see you anymore.” Unable to look at the despair in his eyes, she turned and walked out the door.

Chapter Nineteen

A handful of Merle’s students were waiting outside, but they parted as they saw the look on her face, and she walked through them and along the corridor to her office. Inside, she locked it, sat behind her desk and burst into tears.

After ten minutes, she dried her eyes and put on some face powder and mascara, trying to make herself look decent again. Part of her had thought he would come to her office and not give up so easily, but he hadn’t appeared.

She put her head in her hands. On her back, between her shoulder blades, she was sure she could feel where he’d written his name, branding it into her skin. It would be there to the day she died. How could he have done this to her? How on earth could she sort out all the emotions roiling in her brain and stomach?

The past two weeks had passed incredibly slowly. She’d started looking for a place to stay, although as yet she hadn’t found anywhere she liked. She didn’t have much money saved, and her wage wasn’t great. She could barely afford a small flat, and the ones she’d been to see were seedy, damp or right on top of the railway station. Currently, she was staying in a bed and breakfast, but it wasn’t a long-term solution.

Bree had flown back after a week. It had been a difficult parting, and they’d both cried. But Bree had told her how proud she was of her for standing up to their mother. Merle hadn’t replied. Although she knew she’d done the right thing, it didn’t stop her from feeling like a heel.