The words were like the sharp edge of a knife pressed against sensitive flesh. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?’
For a moment he didn’t respond and then he pulled his hand away. ‘Maybe you’re right. I’ll just hurt you again, and I honestly don’t want to do that. Are you going to Patrick’s on Christmas Day when we finish work?’ When Stella hesitated, he gave a bitter laugh. ‘I guess the answer to that is “not if you’re there”. Am I right?’
‘I’m not going to Patrick’s,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m going to Ellie’s. You should be at Patrick’s. It’s where you belong.’
Daniel rubbed his fingers over his forehead. ‘I’m not feeling particularly sociable. If I ever manage to get away from the consequences of people who have drunk too much alcohol and undercooked their turkeys, I’ll probably go for a walk.’ Letting his hand drop, he stared through the windscreen at the swirling snow and Christmas lights that Patrick had hung from the barn. ‘I might just lose myself in the mountains.’
‘You should go to Patrick’s,’ Stella said softly. ‘He’s your family. He’ll need you around. And the children would be disappointed if you weren’t there.’
‘I’ll break their Christmas presents.’
‘You’ll make it special for them, Daniel.’ And suddenly just thinking about him playing with the children was too much for her. If he’d hated kids, or shown no interest in playing with them, maybe this whole thing would have been easier.
As it was, it felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.
Even harder than the first time because then, when she’d walked away, she’d been angry with him and that anger had sustained her through the long, lonely months of isolation in London.
But that anger had burned itself out and now she just felt sad. Sad because she’d seen what sort of father he’d make.
‘Goodnight, Daniel.’ She slid out of the car and this time he didn’t stop her.
‘Goodnight.’
The exchange had a depressing finality and, as she walked the few steps to the front door of the stable Stella knew that what they’d shared hadn’t been a mistake.
It had been a goodbye.
Chapter Ten
ON THE morning of Christmas Eve Daniel found himself sitting in Patrick’s kitchen, helpin
g Posy mix chocolate brownies.
She waved the spoon in the air. ‘Lick the bowl?’
‘There’s nothing left to lick. At least half this mixture is stuck to your jumper, Posy Buchannan,’ Daniel muttered, prising the spoon out of her hand. ‘And the other half is around your mouth.’
‘Are you going to tell me what happened to you at the Christmas party?’ Patrick was scribbling Christmas cards on the small section of the table that wasn’t covered in chocolate. ‘One minute you and Stella were melting the ice, and the next you’d vanished into the forest, never to be seen again.’
Daniel ignored the sudden flash of heat that warmed his body. ‘Why are you writing Christmas cards? They’re going to arrive after Christmas.’
‘At least they’ll arrive.’ Patrick scribbled an address on an envelope. ‘I was up delivering a baby all night. These people are lucky to have a card from me at all. Why are you avoiding my question?’
‘Because there’s nothing to say.’
‘Are you going to hurt her again?’
Daniel helped Posy scrape the mixture into the tin just as Alfie shot into the room. ‘I hate you, Uncle Daniel,’ he sobbed, the breath tearing in his throat. ‘I hate you!’
‘Alfie!’ Patrick frowned and put down his pen. ‘Don’t speak like that.’
‘Well, it’s true.’ Alfie scrubbed his hand over his face to remove the tears. ‘I do hate him. He’s made her go away.’
‘Who is going away? Why is this family one big drama?’ With a sigh, Patrick stood up and walked towards Alfie but Daniel was there before him.
‘Alfie.’ He dropped into a crouch and closed his hands over the boy’s shoulders. ‘Why do you hate me? What have I done?’ He wanted to think that this was about the scratched DVD or the ruined remote control, but a cold premonition seeped through his body. ‘Who is going away?’
‘Stella.’ Alfie thumped his fist into Daniel’s chest. ‘And it’s all your fault. I hate you!’