His throat grew tighter as he remembered that long-ago Christmas, and another screw-up. One that no one ever mentioned, especially not as a joke. One that he never needed to be reminded of anyway.
He had a clear visual every time he saw the scars on Heather’s arms. He knew just how badly he’d failed his family in the past.
And now he’d done it again.
What could he do now?
* * *
Clara made sure the master bedroom door was closed behind her before she let her shaky legs give way. The fire she’d lit in the grate earlier burned bright and merry but she couldn’t stop shivering. She couldn’t think of anything except Ivy, stuck in a strange hotel with her aunt Merry, waiting for her mum to arrive for hot chocolate and Christmas presents.
Except Clara wasn’t going to be there.
Damn Jacob and his stupid perfect Christmas. How had she let herself get dragged into this in the first place? A ridiculous desire to prove to her ex-husband that she was better off without him, she supposed. To prove it to herself too.
If only she’d stayed in London with Ivy, where she belonged, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
And she’d told him. She’d told him everything—although how much he’d taken in, what with the shock and the snow and everything, she wasn’t sure. They’d have to talk again later, she supposed.
If they really were snowed in for the duration, they’d have plenty of time for that conversation.
She made a sound that was half sob, half laugh as she realised there was another, more pressing, conversation she needed to have first.
Clara fumbled with her phone, holding it up towards the window and praying for reception. There it was. Just a single bar, but hopefully enough for her to reach Merry.
She dialled, held her breath and waited.
‘Clara? Where are you? I’ve been trying to call all morning, ever since the snow started, but I couldn’t even get through to your voicemail.’ Merry sounded frantic. Clara didn’t blame her.
‘I’m so sorry. Reception here is terrible. And I was so busy getting things ready...I didn’t notice the snow.’ If she had, she’d have called a taxi and headed straight out of the castle before the roads became impassable. ‘Is Ivy okay?’
‘Wondering where you are. Clara, are you even going to be able to get back in this? The roads look bad.’
Clara’s heart hurt at the idea of her little girl watching out of the window of the hotel, waiting for her to come home. This was exactly what she never wanted Ivy to feel—as if she’d been abandoned for a better option. That there was something else that mattered more than her. Because there really wasn’t, not in Clara’s world.
‘They look worse from this end,’ she admitted, her throat tight. ‘We can’t even dig Jacob’s car out, Merry. And the road...’ She stared out of the window at a vast blanket of white. ‘I can’t even see where it should be.’ Somewhere in the distance, beyond all the falling flakes, was the Golden Thistle. Clara wished more than anything in the world that she could be there now.
‘Hang on,’ Merry said. Clara heard her murmuring something, presumably to Ivy, then the sound of a door closing. ‘What are you going to do? It’s Christmas Eve!’
‘I know!’ Clara rubbed a hand across her forehead and tried to blink away the sudden burn behind her eyes. ‘I wanted to walk but I don’t fancy my chances. And Jacob’s family can’t even get here. He was talking about trying to find a helicopter or something but...I think I’m stuck here. And Merry...that’s not the worst of it.’
Her best friend must have sensed that Clara was on the edge because suddenly the note of panic was gone from Merry’s voice and she became all business again. They had a rule at Perfect London: only one of them could fall apart at any given time. And it was definitely Clara’s turn.
‘Tell me what happened,’ she said briskly. ‘Tell me everything, and I’ll fix it.’
Clara let out a full-blown sob. ‘Oh, Merry, I’m so sorry. But I have to tell you something. Something I should have told you years ago.’
‘That Ivy is Jacob’s daughter?’ Merry guessed, calm as anything.
Holding the phone away from her ear, Clara stared at it for a moment. Then she put it back. ‘How...how did you know?’
‘It doesn’t take a rocket scientist, Clara. Not when you’ve seen the two of them. She’s very like him.’ Merry gave a low chuckle. ‘Besides, you never were the one-night stand type. So I always wondered... Did you tell him?’
‘Yeah. It went...badly.’
‘Then he’s an idiot,’ Merry said simply. ‘Ivy is the coolest kid in the world. He should be so lucky as to have her as a daughter.’ Clara relaxed, just an inch. Maybe Ivy didn’t need a father at all. Not when she had an Aunt Merry.
As long as Aunt Merry forgave Mummy for lying to her, of course.
‘Are you mad?’ Clara asked in a tiny voice.
Merry paused before answering, and Clara’s heart waited to beat until she spoke. ‘I understand why you wanted to keep it a secret, I think. I hope you know that you could have trusted me with it but...I guess we all have our secrets, don’t we? So no, not mad. But I do want a full retelling of everything, with wine, the moment we get you out of there.’
‘If we get me out of here,’ Clara muttered, but she couldn’t help a small, relieved smile spreading across her face. Despite everything, she still had Merry. Her best friend still wanted to be exactly that.
‘Okay, let’s fix that first,’ Merry said, businesslike once again. ‘How stuck is stuck? And what do you want me to tell Ivy?’
‘I don’t know.’ The words came out practically as a wail.
‘Let me check the weather forecast. Hang on.’ Clara heard the tapping of laptop keys in the background. ‘Okay, it’s deep and treacherous right now, but there’s no more snow due overnight. Snowploughs will be out as soon as it stops, then we can look at getting you out of there. So tomorrow morning, if we’re really lucky. The next day if we’re not.’
‘But tomorrow is Christmas,’ Clara whispered. Oh, poor Ivy. How was she ever going to explain this to her?
‘Not this year it isn’t,’ Merry said firmly. ‘This year, Santa is snowed in up at the North Pole too, and will be coming tomorrow night. Then we’ll celebrate Christmas once you’re back here.’
‘I’m pretty sure Father Christmas can’t get snowed in,’ Clara said dubiously.
‘Well, as long as your daughter doesn’t know that, we should be okay,’ Merry replied. ‘Look, I’ll fix it, okay? You’ve fixed things for me often enough—our own business, as a case in point. Let me fix this for you.’
She sounded so sure, so determined, that Clara almost began to feel a little better. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to talk to the staff here, and the other guests,’ Merry explained. ‘I reckon they’ll all buy in to postponing Christmas until Santa—and you—can get here.’
‘But it’s their Christmas too,’ Clara protested. ‘Some of them were only staying until Boxing Day night. We can’t ruin it for them just because I screwed up.’
‘You didn’t screw up—you were doing your job. Besides, we can have a practice Christmas tomorrow. As long as Ivy believes that the real deal is the next day, it doesn’t matter anyway.’
‘Do you really think you can pull it off?’ If Merry managed it, then Clara would still have Christmas with her daughter. It might not be perfect, but it would be pretty wonderful all the same.
For the first time ever, Clara cared a whole lot less about perfect. She just wanted to be with Ivy for Christmas. Whatever day they decided that was.
‘I can do it,’ Merry promised her. ‘Just leave it with me. Now, do you want to speak to Ivy?’
‘Please. And Merry...’
‘She can’t know about Jac
ob. I know.’
Clara waited until she heard her daughter’s high-pitched voice coming closer, feeling her heart tighten with every second.
‘Mummy?’
‘Hi, sweetheart. Everything okay there?’ Clara tried her best to sound light-hearted. She knew from past experience that Ivy would pick up on any slight tension in her voice.
‘It’s brilliant here. Auntie Merry and I went shopping and we bought you—’ Clara heard a shushing noise from the background ‘—something I’m not allowed to tell you about yet. And then we went for hot chocolates.’
‘Sounds wonderful. I wish I could be there.’
‘Are you coming home soon?’ Ivy asked. ‘It’s really, really snowy out there.’
‘I know. And I’m afraid the snow is very deep where I am too. It’s half way up the door!’ She made it a joke, even though it meant that no taxi would drive to the castle in this, and she had no means of escape. The most important thing was that Ivy continued to believe this was all one big, fun adventure.
Ivy let loose a peal of laughter. ‘How are you going to get home?’
‘Well, it looks like I might have to wait for the snowploughs to clear the roads.’ Now came the tricky bit.