Cornwall for Christmas: A Polwenna Bay novella Page 6

  Kat was sick and tired of men messing her about. It was time to take control.

  “I think I know what’s happened,” Kat announced when she let herself back into the room. Alex was sitting on the sofa, another champagne glass held loosely in his long, slender musician’s fingers. In the soft lamplight he didn’t look a day older than the moment he’d kissed her goodbye, and in spite of everything Kat’s heart twisted.

  This meant nothing, she told herself firmly. It was just a throwback to another time, a time when she didn’t know any better.

  “I think Tom’s been meddling,” she continued, choosing to concentrate on pulling on her boots instead of making eye contact with Alex. “He’s not answering his mobile either, which is a sure sign seeing as he’s usually glued to it.”

  Alex looked puzzled. “Why would he do that? Tom knows the last thing I need right now is even more hassle.”

  Hassle? That was how he saw her, was it? Stung in spite of herself, Kat zipped up her left boot so violently that she felt the zip snap – and her temper with it.

  “Well, the last thing you’ll get from me is hassle,” she snarled. “I’m staying here, so that’s one less thing you need to think about. You can find somewhere else or kip on the sofa if you really must. It makes no difference to me.”

  “Sure you won’t stab me in the night?” Alex shot her the grin which in the past had melted her bones. Well not anymore. She wasn’t eighteen now.

  “I don’t care enough to bother stabbing you, Alex,” Kat said calmly as she reached for her bag. “I was over you, years ago. It was only a teenage thing, after all; hardly a serious relationship.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully. “Right. That’s good to know. No offence, Kat, but dealing with one ex is enough and I don’t think I could cope with two on the rampage over Christmas. I’m sure we can sort something out. The last thing I want to do is ruin your stay here.”

  It’s already ruined, Kat thought bitterly, not that she’d ever admit this to Alex.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said coolly.

  Alex stared at her. “Kat, I—”

  But whatever he had to say Kat didn’t want to hear it. If it was an apology then it was years too late.

  I’m going to get some air,” she said, picking up her coat and shrugging it on. “Stay or go. I couldn’t care less, although I do seem to remember leaving is your specialty.”

  And with this parting shot, Kat stalked from the room with her heart racing and her legs feeling so wobbly that she may as well have drunk the entire bottle of champagne. Heading through the partying guests and out into the star-speckled night, she drew in a few lungfuls of cold air before wandering onto the terrace and finding an empty bench. Kat sat down and placed her head in her hands.

  Some Christmas this was turning out to be. In terms of horror it had far more in common with Halloween.

  Chapter 6

  Alex hadn’t thought events this Christmas could deteriorate much further. He’d been wrong. Not only was Krissy off on one in LA, but now his first girlfriend was stomping around Cornwall like RoboCop – as if it was his fault that they’d been mysteriously double-booked into the same hotel room. Whichever side of the pond he celebrated Yuletide on, Alex Evans was screwed.

  Merry Christmas, one and all!

  Seriously. A man just couldn’t win.

  As Kat’s angry footsteps retreated down the corridor, Alex rose from the sofa and headed back to the champagne bucket. Retrieving the entire bottle this time – no point bothering with glasses at this stage – he flopped backwards onto the bed to consider his options. Not that he had many.

  The bed was comfy, and he could see why Kat wouldn’t want to give it up. Anyway, being a gentleman, there was no way Alex would expect her to. Wiggling a little to get even more comfortable, and hanging his booted feet over the edge so as to not dirty the snowy covers, he took a big swig of Moët in true rock-star fashion. Perhaps he’d refrain from throwing the TV out of the window too, though, Alex decided with a grin. There was quite enough drama already at the Polwenna Bay Hotel.

  Encountering Kat had been a shock, there was no denying it. If there was one person he’d never expected or imagined seeing again then it had to be her. He’d closed the door on that part of his life a decade ago. It wasn’t behaviour Alex was proud of, and looking back with the benefit of maturity and hindsight he knew that the way he’d ended things with her had left a lot to be desired. He hadn’t been honest. He hadn’t been kind. And he actually hadn’t been very smart as it turned out: nobody since had ever lived up to Kat. In his favour he had been very young back then and the whole world had seemed to beckon to him. He’d thought he wanted to be free. Young men were idiots, Alex reflected now. He’d already had the whole world in his arms; he just hadn’t had the sense to realise it.

  Kat had clearly been as taken aback to see him as he was to see her, and not at all pleased either. Alex didn’t blame her. He’d tried hard not to dwell on Kat James over the years. Whenever he did think about her, he always had to tell himself that the memories of her were only so vibrant because she’d been part of his youth. Nothing compared to first love, did it? Everything was new and fresh and fizzing with excitement when you were a teenager. There were no bills to pay, no petty fights about money or arguments over who was supposed to pick up the child from nursery. With Kat there had been the thrilling shock of fingers brushing as they shared a packet of Monster Munch in the playground, their shrieking laughter while riding the dodgems when the fair arrived in town, and then the delight of those first candy-floss sweet kisses. It was late nights sitting up talking. It was queuing to go into their GCSE exams. It was holding her gloved hand on November the Fifth and hearing her gasp as fireworks lit the sky and brushed her cheeks scarlet and emerald. It was knowing that the stars in Kat’s eyes were put there by love for him and not the exploding rockets above. And it was slipping away with her into the old cricket pavilion and lighting fireworks all of their own that left them breathless and trembling. All those memories and feelings had stayed with Alex, living in the music he composed and the lyrics he penned. If every note and every word was for Kat, then it was a secret he kept close to his heart.

  Yes, with Kat James every moment had been magical. Every day had been an adventure. The experience had certainly fired his creativity, but until half an hour ago Alex hadn’t really understood just how much he’d lost.

  She hadn’t changed at all. If anything, Kat was even prettier than he remembered. Her skin was as perfect as ever, she still had that cute jutting out bottom lip that he’d loved to kiss, and her hair was the same wild mane of chestnut curls that he’d once wound his fingers into as he’d pulled her close. Despite the fact that she was wearing some dreadful shapeless outfit, there’d been no mistaking the luscious curves hiding beneath it. Alex knew that her waist would still be just as slim, and her breasts as high and full as he remembered. There was no point denying it. Kat was gorgeous in a way that Krissy, and all the other girls he’d met in the States, could never be with their fake hair, fake teeth, fake boobs, fake everything. Kat – with her fiery temper, sharp wit and loyal heart – was genuine in every way.

  And he’d thrown her away.

  Alex took a big swig of his drink. The liquid fizzed up, making him splutter and cough for a few moments. Champagne was overrated, he decided as he set the bottle down; give him a beer any day. Maybe it was metaphorical? You set out to acquire things you thought you wanted and ought to have, only to find that these things weren’t what you’d imagined they were or even what you really needed. When you were eighteen the thought of travelling the USA and working with bands was far more exciting than being at home with your girlfriend. He couldn’t regret his choices, and he’d certainly never regret having his daughter, but Alex the man knew that Alex the boy could have been a great deal kinder. His younger self should have found a way to sit down with Kat and explain that he had to take this opportunity to see if he could make
it in the industry. She would have understood, even if she would have cried and said she’d miss him. What she wouldn’t understand was his ability to just walk away without even discussing it.

  Alex sighed. Young men were dicks. That was all there was to it. The truth was, he’d been scared that if he saw Kat and told her face to face he’d bottle it and not be able to leave. So instead he’d run away. It was pitiful and Kat had deserved so much more. They might have been young, and everyone always said to take it slow, but they’d both known that what they’d shared was special. Yes, America had been amazing and his career had flourished beyond his wildest dreams, but in the dark watches of the night and staring into an empty Jack Daniel’s bottle Alex sometimes wondered about the price he’d paid.

  He’d been selfish and he’d been cruel. Being young was just an excuse. He’d seen excitement and fame and chased it – and it served him right that life and Krissy had given him a good kicking. His own medicine tasted foul.

  It was hardly surprising that Kat wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him now.

  The least he could do was give her the room, Alex decided. He’d see the receptionist and tell her he was seeking alternative arrangements, and then he’d walk down into the village and find Zak, which shouldn’t be too hard. All he’d need to do was locate the pub and his friend was bound to be there, surrounded by a crowd and entertaining them all. Zak’s house might be full but he’d be able to spare a floor or sofa for the night. Then, as soon as it was daylight and the alcohol was out of his system, Alex could drive back to London and home to his empty flat, empty life and fridge full of beer.

  Great. He could hardly wait. So much for enjoying a Christmas break in Cornwall and taking his mind off the mess he’d made of everything. Now it was clearer than ever just how much he’d messed up. Was that Tom’s game? Some kind of twisted take on A Christmas Carol? The Ghost of Girlfriends Past? Were there sad-eyed fans and groupies lurking in the wardrobe or, God forbid, was Krissy waiting in the en suite? Alex shuddered at that thought. Surely his ex-wife was more Stephen King than Dickens?

  But before he found Zak, there was a call Alex needed to make…

  “Alex?” Tom’s voice was hard to hear above the sounds of singing and excited conversation. “You’re at the hotel then! Oh my God! We so have to talk.”

  “You’re not kidding,” said Alex grimly.

  “Just give me a moment; I can hardly hear a thing.” There was the sound of a bar stool scraping on a floor, followed by the groan of a door, and instantly the buzz of the pub receded.

  “That’s better!” Tom said. “Oof! Just making myself comfy on this beer barrel. They really ought to come with cushions.”

  “Stop stalling,” Alex said. “You know why I’ve called. What the hell were you thinking? And don’t deny this is all your doing. I’m not stupid.”

  “Well, that’s debatable,” Tom muttered. Then, brightening, he added, “OK, I admit I may have done a teeny weeny bit of meddling but it’s all in a good cause. I take it you’ve seen each other? How was it? Was she thrilled? Are you back together?”

  Sometimes Alex wondered what planet his old friend lived on. Certainly not Planet Straight Bloke, where ex-girlfriends tended to hate your guts for all eternity and then some.

  “I knew it would be fine,” Tom was saying, without waiting for Alex to reply. “Everyone said it was a daft idea but I knew it would work out. What does Zak know anyway? Or Issie?”

  “Zak knows about this?” Alex was stunned. Why on earth hadn’t his bandmate said anything?

  “Well, not until tonight when I told him,” admitted Tom. “He thought you’d be furious but he doesn’t know you and Kat like I do. Honestly, when I realised Kat had changed her plans and was coming here alone for Christmas and then you said you needed somewhere to stay, I knew it was fate. You’re meant to be together. All I had to do was pull a few strings. Ella – that’s my boss – will want my guts for garters but I’ll survive. Isn’t it wonderful? True love always wins the day, especially at Christmas!”

  Although Alex couldn’t see Tom right now, he knew exactly the expression that was on his friend’s face: there’d be an almost religious fervour in his eyes.

  “Have you finally lost it?” Alex said in disbelief. “You’re seriously telling me you deliberately double-booked Kat and me into that hotel room?”

  “Yep! Genius, eh?”

  “Whatever for?” Alex had to ask. If God was said to move in mysterious ways, the Almighty had nothing on Tom.

  “Doh! Because it’s meant to be, of course! Why do you think I offered you that deal? Kat’s your one who got away – we all know it because all your songs are always about her, even that shocking one you wrote for Bieber – so now you can get her back! You don’t have to thank me; it’s what friends are for. Happy Christmas!”

  “Brilliant mate, except that a) she’s horrified to see me, b) I’m not exactly thrilled myself and c) you’ve totally ballsed up her Christmas and mine! You can’t play with people like this! Jesus, Tom!”

  “Kat wasn’t pleased?”

  “Of course she wasn’t pleased, you utter moron! You’ve forced her to spend Christmas with the guy who walked out on her at her eighteenth birthday party!”

  “That was pretty crap of you,” said Tom reprovingly.

  “I know, I know. Anyway, I’ve no idea where she’s gone now. Back to London probably. She’s really upset. As am I,” he added quickly. Although a part of him, a very big part actually, was thrilled to see Kat again, there was no way Alex was giving Tom the satisfaction of knowing this. His friend’s smugness would be unbearable.

  “She’s wandered off on her own? Ally! What are you thinking? You need to go after her!”

  “And then what? Tell her that I made a huge mistake ten years ago, that she’s the love of my life and ask her to marry me?”

  “Yes! Yes! Exactly! Oh my God! That’s it! You do still love her! I knew it!”

  “I’m being sarcastic!” Alex hollered. “That kind of thing never happens in real life. People mess up, break up and there are no happy endings. This is real life, not a Richard Curtis movie. For God’s sake, Tom! When will you grow up!”

  There was a shocked silence. Even Alex was taken aback by what he’d said.

  “Fine,” Tom said finally. “You’ve made your feelings clear. I only meant to help. Anyway, perhaps it’s time all those things did happen in real life? I don’t think Kat’s ever got over you and I know you’ve never got over her. Now’s your chance to at least try and put things right with Kat and get her out of your system.”

  “What happened between Kat and me is none of your business,” Alex said.

  “It is when you’re both my friends and I care about you,” Tom replied huffily. “You should be grateful, not having a go at me. Well, get on with it your way if you must. Merry Christmas, Alex. I hope it’s not too much of a lonely one for you up there on your moral high ground.”

  There was a click as Tom hung up. Still fuming, Alex switched his phone off and tossed it onto the sofa. Then he hauled himself up from the bed and began to pace the bedroom. Bloody Tom! So much for a relaxing Christmas Eve chilling in Cornwall. How much champagne had he drunk? Enough to be over the limit? Closer inspection revealed that at least a third of the bottle was gone, so that scuppered any hopes of driving home. He’d have to find Zak and sort himself out a place to stay.

  Still, as angry as Alex was, he was also honest enough to admit to himself that there was some truth in what Tom had said. He hadn’t been able to forget Kat and he had compared every woman since, consciously and unconsciously, to the girl he’d left behind. Krissy had always gone ballistic whenever he’d mentioned his past – which was ironic really, since she’d constantly paraded her exes and lovers through the house – but Alex realised now that his ex-wife had been right to be jealous. From what he’d seen of Kat this evening, his childhood sweetheart had grown from a pretty girl into a beautiful young woman. It was also true th
at he did write about her in his songs – not overtly, perhaps, but their history was woven into his music and lyrics. And yes, she was his “one that had got away”. Or, rather, the one he’d stupidly let go. Could Kat ever forgive him even if he did try to put things right?

  Alex laughed despairingly. He was starting to sound like Tom now, with this line of thinking. Wandering over to the window, he glanced outside at the starry sky and the pools of light spilling onto the terrace from the hotel. The trees and shrubs of the parterre were festooned with colourful fairy lights, and small Christmas trees had been set at regular intervals along the balustrade. In spite of the stress of tonight’s events, Alex’s heart lifted at the sight of it all. Christmas was such a magical time that even the most hardened cynic couldn’t fail to be moved by it.

  His thoughts drifted to long-ago skating trips with Kat, their blades hissing across the ice as they whirled hand in hand around the ice rink, her dark hair flying and her cheeks flushed with excitement. Or walking in the park on Christmas day, stomachs heavy with home cooking and both of them desperate for an excuse to find somewhere private to steal fevered kisses. They were special memories that he only allowed himself to think of now and again, lingering over each one as a miser lingers over his money.

  Alex frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him. What if Tom had a point and this was his opportunity to put things right with Kat? It was the season of goodwill and a time of Christmas magic. Was it possible that this was a second chance for them?

  Down on the terrace was a bench; Alex hadn’t paid much attention to it until now, but as a door opened and light spilled out he realised that the figure sitting on it, head in hands and shoulders hunched, was none other than Kat. Without even pausing to think about it, he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out of the room, down the stairs and outside. This was mad and he could always blame the champagne or an excess of Christmas spirit and nostalgia, but seeking her company felt like the right thing to do.