Christmas is Cancelled

chapter Ten





“Whoa, careful!” Phil wobbled and grabbed hold of Dean’s arms to save himself. “Are you trying to kill me now? You nearly knocked me down the stairs.”

“Don’t tempt me.” It was best idea he’d heard all night. Playing the scenario through his mind gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. Anything to take his mind off it being face-to-face with the wrong member of the Carter family. He shook off Phil’s arms and retreated to the bathroom to at least grab a towel. “Have you never heard of trespassing?”

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I tried the front door, and it was open.”

“Do you even have a brain in that thick skull of yours? Tilly’s got my keys, you idiot.”

“Oh, yeah.” Phil merely shrugged, oblivious to the hostility rolling off Dean in waves. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking...”

“That’d be a first.”

“Ha-bloody-ha. So do you think she might’ve gone back to her boyfriend?” asked Phil. Dean’s heart came to a standstill and his blood ran ice cold. “Well, he’s her ex-boyfriend now. As of yesterday. She refused to tell me why, but all of a sudden she wanted to stay for Christmas.”

Dean’s heart kick-started again, albeit beating a feeble rhythm. “Have you any way of getting hold of him?”

“Yeah, I’ve got his landline number. Obviously it was hers, too, until yesterday, what with her living with him for the last couple of years.” Obviously...but why did Phil have to sound so goddamn chirpy about it?

“Great, the phone’s downstairs.” Dean’s throat was full of razors as he tried to speak. “Why don’t you try ringing him, and I’ll be down in a minute?” Phil took the not-so-subtle hint and trotted downstairs.

Dean sought the sanctuary of his bedroom, the only place in the entire house left uncontaminated by Tilly’s memory. His breathing was all over the place, and there was a stabbing pain in his chest. The very idea of her with another man was bad enough but to have been living with him, too, it must have been pretty serious.

A breakup had never entered his mind. It made sense though; it even accounted for the suitcase and the strange comment about having nowhere else to go. As much as he hated the idea, he had to agree with Phil that it was the best place to start looking. Would she really go back to her ex though? What if they decided to try and work things out? What if—

Dean stood and dressed quickly. There was enough on his mind without adding any more what-ifs to the quagmire in there, and he wasn’t exactly doing himself any favors thinking about all the other possible connotations. He needed to act, to do something useful. And he could start by going downstairs and checking on Phil.

“Anything?”

Phil shook his head, the phone still ringing out in his hand. “No. I tried Tilly’s mobile first. You know, just in case, but your coat started buzzing. I tried Brian next, but his phone just rang out, and it’s looking like the same with Kerry too.”

“Kerry?”

Phil’s eyebrows rode up his forehead as he eyed Dean. “Christ, do you know anything about Tilly?” Dean tried not to squirm. It had already occurred to him upstairs how little he knew about her life—he didn’t even know what she did for a living—and she knew even less about him. It wasn’t exactly the most stable basis for a relationship. “Kerry is Tilly’s best mate and former flatmate. She’s pretty cute too.”

“I know things were strained at best, but do you think there’s any chance she’ll get in touch with your parents?”

“No.” Phil shook his head. “She couldn’t get hold of them even if by some miracle she wanted to. They’re away, Maldives or the Caribbean, I forget which.”

“Things never improved then?”

“No chance. I’m not sure they’re in touch at all anymore.”

“We’re running out of options here.”

Phil flopped down onto the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees. He bounced his chin off his thumb and forefingers and stared at a spot of the floor, but then his head flew up. “What if you report your car as stolen?”

“You’d really have her arrested?”

“Oh, yeah, good point. And it’s too soon to report her missing.” Phil’s head dropped back down. “At least she’s got her purse with her. Maybe she’ll hole up somewhere and get in touch in a few days?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean managed to keep the panic out of his voice. He couldn’t sit around doing nothing for a few days. No, he needed to be doing something. Anything...

“Do you want to go for a drive around, see if we can find her anywhere? Maybe shoot over to Brian’s?”

“What? Now?” Dean stared at him. “And you want me to come with you?”

“Yep.” Phil got to his feet. “For one thing, I don’t know what car I’m looking for. For another thing, your pacing is driving me nuts.” Dean opened his mouth to snap out a retort, but Phil didn’t let him get a word out. “And like you said, we’re on the same side.”

Dean groaned and raked his hand through his hair. “For f*cks sake, Phil, why couldn’t you figure that out an hour or so ago? Or even better, ten years ago?”

“You said it yourself, I’m an idiot.” Phil looked positively sheepish, and Dean almost cracked a smile. “And you know timing was never my strong suit.” Phil reached into his trouser pocket and tossed his keys into the air. “You drive, you know the area better than I do, and I’m too knackered after the drive up here.”

Dean snatched the keys out of the air, then ran to the kitchen to retrieve the spare house key from the odds-and-sods drawer. He got as far as the car before his optimism got the better of him and had to dash back to the house to leave a note telling Tilly he’d be back soon.

Soon turned out to be a gross understatement. They’d drawn blanks at both Brian’s and Kerry’s houses, and there wasn’t a sniff of his car parked up anywhere, yet it seemed neither he nor Phil could bear to call off the search.

It was five hours before they walked back through the front door, and it was a wonder they weren’t pulled over by the police for loitering or acting suspiciously. Dean’s eyes fell on the note, untouched, and the faint glimmer of hope fizzled out as another piece of his soul shattered.

Phil collapsed back onto the sofa and yawned. Purple shadows were growing beneath his bloodshot eyes. He’d have a black eye to match Dean’s if he didn’t get some sleep soon. “Hey, look, you must’ve missed one.” Phil scrambled off the sofa and pulled out a small rectangular parcel that Dean didn’t recognize. “It’s for you, it’s from—”

Dean cut him off; he couldn’t go there. “I’m going to bed. If you’re planning on staying, you’ll have to shift Tilly’s stuff over in the spare room. If you need clothes, help yourself to mine in the morning.”

Phil wordlessly shoved the gift into Dean’s hands as he went past. He carried his precious cargo to his room and placed it gently on his pillow while he undressed. After climbing under the quilt, he stared at the intricate—almost childlike—drawings of Christmas trees, angels, holly, and something that was either a robin or a Christmas pudding.

So that’s what she’d been up to, another puzzle solved. It must have taken her hours. Dean couldn’t help himself. Apart from her brother, it was his last remaining link to her. The nervous energy built up inside him, making his hands shake as he opened the envelope, trying not to rip it. He pulled out a frame, and his heart began to pound against his ribs.

Turning it over, Dean couldn’t stifle the howl that had worked its way up from the empty space where his heart should have been. Three knocks on the door made his head snap up. He clutched the photo to his chest ready to protect the two people smiling back at him, ready to defend them to the death.

“Are you okay?” Phil’s voice filtered through the solid wood, full of concern.

“Yeah, fine,” Dean called back, fighting to keep his tone light; otherwise, he’d never get rid of Phil. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Dean listened to Phil’s footsteps and waited until the spare room door closed before he returned to the happy couple, full of life and vitality. And love. His fingers traced over Tilly, caressing her cheek, and a teardrop splashed against the glass, exploding and blurring her image. He ran the pad of his thumb over it, wiping it away but it was futile. As soon as he got rid of one, another appeared, and another.

He shuffled down the bed and cradled the frame against his chest, cuddling it, trying to draw comfort from it. If he was going to have to make do with a photo in order to wake up with her every day, so be it, but only after he’d done everything to try and win her back.



***



Tilly gripped the steering wheel tightly, controlling the swerve as another shiver ripped through her. She wasn’t going to risk the heaters making her drowsy any time soon. She’d rather freeze than dare lose concentration as she navigated the winding road. It twisted like a serpent, carving a path through the hills with their never-ending peaks and troughs, making the drive feel more like a roller-coaster ride.

The scenery itself was bleak; one white-washed hill after another and field after field devoid of life except for tiny villages spread sporadically. With their clusters of houses, brightly decorated with fairy lights and gaudy decorations, they seemed at odds with their surroundings. The villagers themselves must have been tucked up indoors, safe and warm, out of the brutal conditions. There wasn’t a soul around and not a pub or petrol station in sight. She was totally isolated, deep within the wilderness.

The temperature outside had plummeted, bitterly cold and putting paid to her ideas of sleeping in the car overnight—she’d barely managed an hour before the uncontrollable shakes got to her. Fierce, swirling winds buffeted the sides of the car at the high points, and snow banked up the sides in the low points making the road barely passable. She didn’t have a clue where she was; she’d just jumped in the car and driven, not paying any attention to the road signs, and now the ones she passed were blanketed in snow.

Thank goodness Dean had left plenty of fuel in his car. It was insane that she’d stolen it; she was no better than a common thief. The attack of nerves she’d got when a police car passed her on the opposite lane had worked better than a triple espresso, but the pangs of guilt and hopelessness weren’t enough to make her turn back.

She shivered again and against her body’s wishes, wound down the window for a blast of cold air on her face. Even if she wanted to go back to Dean’s, tiredness was becoming more and more of an issue, and she’d never make it. At least she’d had the good sense the grab her handbag; it was just a pity she hadn’t grabbed her coat too. And her phone that was presumably still stowed in Dean’s inside pocket.

She had the sum token of her purse, a coral pink lip gloss, a half empty packet of spearmint chewing gum, an elastic hair bobble, and an emergency sanitary towel to survive on. Not exactly a Mountain Rescue–approved survival kit. She resisted the urge to pull over and check her bag again, just in case a chocolate bar had manifested itself, and popped another chewing gum into her mouth instead.

It was a desperately poor substitute for food and drink, but it gave her mouth something to do. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a drink, aside from the slug of whiskey, and her throat sprouted thorns every time she tried to swallow. Surrounded by snow, it had crossed her mind more than once to eat some of it, especially as the chunk of bread had barely made a dent in her hunger.

About the only good thing about the terrifying journey was the lack of opportunity to think. Faced with the very real prospect of dying behind the wheel, her tears had dried up, and her mind had blanked, focusing solely on driving safely and staying alive.