Carole Singer's Christmas (23 page)

‘Well, I haven’t. Mum said she was sure I’d had them too but I don’t ever remember itching like this and I certainly have never had spots before in my entire life. Ever!’ he complained, sounding like a five-year-old.

‘Well ... I’d better come up then,’ Carole said, feeling almost as dejected as Dom sounded.

‘What for? You don’t want to get covered in spots. It’s not a pretty sight, let me tell you.’

‘I’ve had chickenpox and although you can get it again, it’s rare, so I’m sure I’ll be fine. You need someone to look after you.’

‘Oh! Mum’s offered to do that. She’s on her way over now. I called her first because I needed her to get this cream for me. There’s no point in you both being here. And if you were here, I’d want to have sex and I can’t. Apart from feeling absolutely awful, I’ve even got a spot on my dick! Can you believe that?’

Carole almost laughed but she stopped herself. This was no time for spotted dick jokes she realised. She was surprised though. For someone who had never seemed that interested in sex, over the last two weeks, Dom seemed to talk of little else.

Every time he called now, he told her how much he missed it and only last night he’d told her in some detail what he was going to do to her over the weekend. Apart from wondering if he’d been reading up on it on various sex sites on the internet, she hadn’t had the heart to tell him that her gran had relegated him to the spare room, so activities would be somewhat curtailed. Not to mention the fact that after she’d told him how she felt, sex may not even be on the table. Well, it definitely wouldn’t have been on the table, not at her gran’s cottage. But it may not have been on the bed either.

‘Oh you poor darling,’ she said. ‘When do you think you will be able to come down then? Will it be before Christmas?’

‘God knows,’ Dom replied. ‘The doctor thinks the spots will take a week or so to crust over, dry up and drop off. So that takes us to the 20
^th
. Possibly a day or so after that. Maybe not until Christmas Eve and I’m telling you now babe, if your gran puts me in the spare room, we’re checking into a sodding hotel because by Christmas Eve I’ll be absolutely gagging for it.’

The thought of Dom’s spotted appendage had been enough to turn Carole off albeit in a vaguely amusing way, but this was just too much.

‘I know you’re not feeling well, Dom, and I’m very sorry, but that isn’t terribly romantic, you know. “Gagging for it” doesn’t exactly make me want to throw myself in your arms. But anyway, let’s just hope it’s only the spots that crust over, dry up and drop off or you may find yourself in some difficulty.’

‘What? Oh! Trust you to make a joke of it. It isn’t funny, Carole. It hurts. And as for romance, well I can be just as romantic as the next man. I’ve got to go. Mum’s at the door.’

***

Carole saw Nick, balancing rather precariously she thought, at the top of a ladder, which was resting against the branches of a gloriously full Norway Spruce. The Christmas tree was at least twenty feet high and Nick was attaching a huge gold star to the top of it. He’d clearly just finished erecting it, and it was secured by ropes and pegs on the green outside of the village hall.

Josie and several others from the village stood at the foot of the tree, holding boxes full of decorations and coloured lights, which they were placing on the tree and handing up to Nick so that he could decorate the higher branches. A mini generator rumbled on the grass and two huge commercial spotlights that Carole knew belonged to Nick, pointed upwards, illuminating the proceedings sufficiently for everyone to see what they were doing.

It was around five-thirty p.m. and the sun had long since set, having been chased across a previously clear blue sky by a bright, waxing, gibbous moon which now hung in the rapidly fading silver of the final twenty minutes or so of twilight.

The air was crisp and cold and even though there hadn’t been any more snow since that first heavy fall thirteen days ago, as Carole approached the tree she felt it was really beginning to feel like Christmas at last.

‘Mind you don’t fall,’ she called up to Nick as she reached Josie’s side.

Her voice seemed to startle him and he very nearly did. He had to grab a branch to steady him. He glanced down at her and grinned.

‘Thanks for that,’ he yelled down. ‘I almost landed on top of you!’

She blushed and looked away as a picture of him on top of her popped into her head. Good grief, she thought, now she was the one who seemed to be gagging for it. She blamed it on her conversation with Dom, and the fact that she’d been working on that romance cover for most of the day.

At least that was one piece of good news she’d had. The publishers loved the cover, so much so in fact, that they’d asked her to do the rest in what was going to be an ongoing series of titles based on desire. And desire was something she seemed to be experiencing rather frequently these days; almost every time she looked at Nick, in fact – apart from the times she’d wanted to slap him, of course.

‘Here,’ Josie said, handing Carole a box of decorations, ‘don’t just stand there like a love-sick cow. Make yourself useful!’

‘Thanks so much for the analogy, Josie. And I’m not lovesick ... or a cow, come to that, although Dom probably thinks I am.’

Josie’s head whipped round. ‘Have you told him? Is he here?’

Carole shook her head. ‘No. He’s not coming. In fact, I won’t be seeing him until possibly sometime around Christmas Eve. And you’ll never believe this – he’s got chickenpox.’

Josie’s mouth fell open and her eyes grew as wide as the Christmas bauble she was about to hang on the tree. ‘You have got to be kidding me,’ she said. ‘Dom’s got the Pox! Oh that’s a classic!’

‘Who’s got the Pox?’ Sebastian asked rather loudly, making both of them jump as he came up behind them.

A stunned silence fell amongst the villagers as all heads turned in Carole’s direction. Even the generator spluttered and coughed.

Nick slid down from his perch by placing his feet either side of the ladder and he landed at Carole’s feet, so close that she could smell the scent of pine from several little needles caught in his fleece.

‘What’s this,’ he said, looking serious. ‘Has someone in the village caught chickenpox? I assume that’s what you meant. I hear there’s a lot of it going around.’

‘Carole’s boyfriend, Dominic,’ Josie said. ‘He’s got it and he won’t be down until Christmas.’

Nick looked at Carole but she avoided his eyes and waited for the sarcastic comment.

‘I’m really sorry to hear that,’ he said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. ‘I know chickenpox isn’t that serious but it can cause complications. I hope he recovers quickly. Are ... are you going up to take care of him? Have you had it?’

Carole met his eyes. ‘Yes, I’ve had it and no, I’m not going up. And not because I don’t love him, before you say anything but because he doesn’t want me to. And yes, I still would but his mum’s there already and she and I get on even worse than Dom and my gran do. Besides, she was a nurse, so he’s in better hands than mine.’

Nick’s lips twitched a fraction. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything but now that you mention it, I know whose hands I’d rather be in. Not that I’m suggesting you go. Far from it. I think he’s right to tell you not to. That much I do agree with him about.’

‘Me too!’ Sebastian announced, apparently only now comprehending the implications of this news and moving closer to Carole. ‘And this means I’ll have you all to myself for at least another week or so. I wasn’t happy with the thought of him being alone in that cottage with you, even if Grandma Mitsy dumped him in the spare room. I know that wouldn’t stop me and–’

‘Sebastian!’ Carole exclaimed, extricating herself from the arm he’d wrapped around her waist. ‘That’s enough, thank you.’

She noticed Nick step closer but he seemed to check himself and she wondered what he’d been thinking.

‘We’d better get to rehearsals,’ Josie said. ‘It’s almost six o’clock.’ She linked arms with Carole and led her towards the village hall. ‘I hate to say this, Carole seeing as you think you still love him and everything, but sometimes Sebastian can be such a prat, and worse still, he often reminds me of his father.

Carole glowered at her.

‘What? I’m just saying. That’s the sort of remark the venerable Justin Jarvis JP would make. Or should that be ... venereal?’

Even Carole sniggered at that.

CHAPTER TWENTY

‘Do you like meteor showers?’ Nick asked Carole and Josie as they were about to leave the village hall after rehearsals had ended.

‘I like any shower if it’s hot,’ Josie replied, ‘especially if I can share it with a man who’s even hotter.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Carole said, grinning. ‘Can’t you see the man’s being serious? Are these the ones advertised on TV? Faster than a power shower but only available in heavy water areas?’

Nick grinned as Carole and Josie giggled like schoolgirls.

‘Sorry,’ Carole said. ‘You were saying?’

‘I was saying ... that if you do, you should be in for a treat tonight although having said that, the moon is too bright to get really good sightings. You’d see more once the moon has set. Between then and dawn it should be spectacular.’

‘See more what?’ Josie asked. ‘Sorry, I’m still thinking of hot men in hot showers.’

‘Meteors,’ Carole said. ‘Shooting stars, as we still call them. The kind we’d make a wish on. There’s a meteor shower tonight then?’

Nick nodded. ‘Yes. And tomorrow night. It’s the Geminids and they should be visible from early evening, around the time we came in here actually, until dawn. They radiate from a region near the stars, Castor and Pollux in the constellation of Gemini. It’s one of the best meteor showers on earth. Well, not on earth – in the heavens, but you know what I mean. There’ll be between fifty to one hundred meteors per hour at the height of the shower.’

‘Wow!’ Carole and Josie exclaimed simultaneously.

‘What are we waiting for? Let’s get out there,’ Carole suggested.

‘There won’t be that many yet,’ Nick said, ‘as it’s only seven-thirty but after we’ve decorated the trees, it might be worth taking a look.’

‘I thought we’d finished the tree,’ Josie said. ‘I’ve got a piano lesson tonight so I can’t stick around.’

‘Nick means our tree,’ Carole said. ‘Well not our tree – Gran’s tree. Trees actually. There’re two of them.’

Nick shot her a look but didn’t say anything.

‘Oh,’ Josie said. ‘I thought they came in trees. Get it? Trees. Threes. My talent is wasted in this village.’

Carole grinned. ‘It’s a bit late for a piano lesson, isn’t it? Or is that just a euphemism?’

Josie giggled. ‘I wish it were. I’m making an exception for this guy actually. He’s the dad of one of my pupils, and talk about hot men. Wow! I’m melting, just thinking about him.’

‘Is this the guy you told me about at lunch today?’ Carole asked. ‘The one whose wife ran off with someone she met on one of the social networking sites?’

‘Yep. She left him and his son. They’re divorced now and Jason, he’s the son, goes to his grandparents every other weekend. Aidan, he’s the hot dad, drives him there and stays for supper. That’s why he can’t get to me until nine.’

‘And you’re hoping he’ll stay for more than just one piano lesson, I take it?’ Nick asked.

‘I hope so. I’d like to find a way to get him to stay all weekend, to be honest. I’m telling you, that man can tickle my ivories – to borrow a phrase from Justin Jarvis – any time he likes, and not just my ivories but my ovaries too.’

‘Josie!’ Carole gasped. She was blushing although she had no idea why.

Nick burst out laughing. ‘Just tell him that, Josie. That should do the trick.’

Carole shot him a look and their eyes met briefly before she looked away.

‘It might scare him off,’ Josie said. ‘The mention of ovaries does that to some men. They hear the words babies and fatherhood and they’re off like ... a meteor.’

Nick grinned and nodded in agreement.

‘What about you, Nick?’ Josie asked. ‘Would you be off like a meteor if a girl said that to you? Not me I mean but ... a girl?’

‘It depends on the girl,’ Nick replied, still grinning. ‘If I really liked her, then no. Not ovaries or anything else for that matter would make me run off.’

‘That’s good to know, isn’t it, Carole?’

Carole didn’t answer.

‘How long have you known this Aidan guy, Josie?’ Nick asked. ‘You said he’s the father of one of your pupils.’

Josie nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ve known him for about two months. Jason comes to me once a week on Thursday afternoons and Aidan goes for a walk during the lesson but he always stops and chats for a few minutes afterwards. It was only yesterday that he asked if he could have lessons and if he could start tonight.’

‘Then it sounds to me like it is your ivories he wants to tinkle, Josie. No guy is that desperate to learn to play the piano, I can assure you.’

‘Really?’ Josie visibly brightened. ‘So ... you think this is may be a preamble to ... to him perhaps asking me out or something?’

‘Definitely,’ Nick said.

‘How can you say that?’ Carole asked. ‘Perhaps he just wants to learn the piano because his son is, and perhaps Friday night is the only night he has free? He may not be interested in Josie at all. No offence, Josie and I think the guy’s mad if he isn’t interested in you, but I’d hate you to get your hopes up and ... and do something you may regret. Flirt or something and get rejected.’

Nick’s brows furrowed. ‘For a woman who’s dating two men at the same time, Carole, forgive me, but you don’t seem to know much about men.’

Carole glared at him.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said, grinning. ‘I’m sorry but it’s true. No man. And I do mean no man, would have a piano lesson at nine o’clock on a Friday night just to learn the piano. And before you say, “But he’s got his son all week,” – so what? He could get a baby sitter or he could have a lesson over the weekend. Saturday morning, for example. Nope. He’s interested in you, Josie. I’d stake my life on it.’