Escape for Christmas (22 page)

“You came to my signing? Why would you do that?”

He smiled bashfully. “Because I couldn’t resist seeing you again. Gemma, I had the biggest crush on you at school. You must have realised?”

“You hardly spoke to me in five years!”

“I was tongue-tied every time I looked at you,” Rob confessed. “I’m blushing now and I’m thirty. Gemma, I used to have all these conversations planned out in my head and then the minute I saw you they’d all just evaporate. Totally pathetic, I know, but I idolised you.”

Now it was Gemma’s turn to be tongue-tied. She’d had no idea of any of this.

“Do you remember the Year-Eleven Prom?” Rob asked.

Gemma nodded. She’d lived on Slimfast
for days beforehand so that she could squeeze the zip up on her dress; she’d actually become quite addicted to the strawberry flavour. She’d been violently sick after drinking too many alcopops on an empty stomach, and somewhere along the line she’d snogged Brett James, whose dad ran the local garage. Brett had been a dreadful kisser, like a washing machine on spin cycle, but then again she probably hadn’t been too great herself after all the throwing up. Poor old Brett. Had Rob even been there?

“I spent weeks plucking up the courage to ask you out,” he said quietly. “But I bottled that as usual. I was going to ask you to dance but then I saw you kissing that guy from the garage – he runs it now, by the way, and he’s got about five kids – so I went home.”

Gemma stared at him, horrified.

“That was when I decided that I wasn’t going back to sixth form,” he said, finishing his drink and smiling at her. “I didn’t want to be that pathetic loser any more. I wanted to be a new person and have a fresh start. As it turned out, that was the best decision I could have made because it led to my travels and all the things that happened afterwards.”

“Rob, I am so sorry,” Gemma said, squeezing his fingers. “I can honestly say I had no idea you felt like that.”

He squeezed back and then let her hand go. “Of course you didn’t! How could you when I didn’t speak? Anyway, that was a long time ago. I was just trying to explain why I was so peculiar when we were kids. I’m better now, I promise.”

He certainly was. Gemma couldn’t remember what she’d ever seen in Brett James. Mentally kicking her sixteen-year-old self for her bad taste in men, she let Rob gently steer the conversation back to safer waters: people they knew in common, and less awkward memories of school. By the time her brothers joined them – both pretty merry, and Kev rocking a tinsel halo and bauble earrings – the tense atmosphere of earlier had vanished and everyone was truly in the Christmas spirit. Even Kirsty didn’t seem half as annoying after a few sips of mulled wine.

“Just the one, sis?” Dave raised an eyebrow when he noticed that she was still nursing the same glass Rob had bought her at the start of the evening. “What a lightweight.”

Gemma was a bit surprised herself; normally she could drink mulled wine as though it was Ribena. This evening, however, she just wasn’t enjoying the taste. It was a bit metallic and weird. She guessed that after everything that had happened with Cal she wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate.

Rob glanced at his watch and pulled a face. “Sorry to be a party pooper, folks, but the cows don’t know it’s Christmas and I’ve got an early start in the morning.”

It was almost last orders anyway, even though the locals were bound to stay for a lock-in. Gemma didn’t expect to see her brothers back before Santa had been.

“I’ll come too,” she said, stifling a yawn. Goodness, she was so tired. “I’m nearly thirty now and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Never,” Rob said softly. There was a look in his emerald eyes that made the breath catch in Gemma’s throat. He picked up her coat and helped her on with it – which made a change from Cal watching her get in a knot – and together they walked through the pub and out into the darkness. The lights were on in the church on the other side of the river, and the strains of “Once in Royal David’s City” drifted on the breeze while the stars shone as brightly above the valley as they had in Bethlehem on that very first Christmas Eve. It was Midnight Mass and everyone from Kenniston would be going to the chapel to sing carols and hear the nine lessons. Gemma loved the tiny chapel with its old pews worn smooth by years of being sat on by Elliott bottoms – and Midnight Mass, always the official start of her birthday, was one of her favourite events of the year.

Last year she and Cal had risen at first light to go to Kenniston and get stuck into cooking the Christmas dinner. Cal had mixed Buck’s Fizz for her birthday and hidden a beautiful Swarovski heart pendant in a mince pie. Gemma had nearly broken a tooth finding it, but the pain had been worthwhile because it had been such a wonderful thing for him to do. Cal had a romantic streak a mile wide and loved planning surprises and grand gestures, from midnight picnics to treasure hunts. Or rather, he used to love doing these things. Gemma couldn’t remember the last time Cal had done something romantic. Sharing the hot-water bottle was about it recently. Realising how much things had changed made her feel desperately sad. Perhaps the lack of sweet notes and romance was the biggest indication of all that he didn’t want her anymore.

Gemma wondered what Cal was doing now. Was he at church? Would he have a drink up at the big house before walking home and going to bed? And was Cal going to bed alone? Or was Aoife keeping him company?

Arrah! She had to stop thinking like this! It was going to drive her crazy.

As Rob drove back to the farm in his sexy black Discovery, all tinted windows and black leather seats, Gemma tried to ignore the churning misery in her stomach and focused on chatting as though she hadn’t a care in the world. This wasn’t hard at all because Rob was very easy to talk to and great company. As he pulled up outside the farm he was telling her such a sweet story about how he’d warmed a little lamb up on the heated leather seat; Gemma managed to make the right responses, despite her mind being elsewhere.

Just stop thinking about Cal, she told herself furiously. There was a seriously gorgeous man here who’d had a childhood crush on her and was a perfect gentleman. He even had a sprig of mistletoe in his hand, which he was laughingly telling her he’d pinched from the big bunch in the pub.

“You never know when it may come in handy,” he said with a smile, and those green eyes danced. “We lonely farmers have to make our own luck!”

This was it. Fate herself couldn’t have made it any more obvious if she’d been yelling “Snog him!” with a megaphone.

“Same for farmers’ daughters,” Gemma replied. “Happy Christmas, Rob.”

Before she could chicken out, she reached across and brushed her lips against his. His mouth was warm and everything a man’s should be. There was a little quiver in the pit of her stomach, which felt very much like desire. Encouraged by this, she was about to lean across for another kiss when Rob ducked his head and kissed her softly on the cheek instead.

“Gemma, it’s not me you want,” he said gently. “It wasn’t when we were sixteen and it isn’t now.”

She stared at him, mortified. “Rob, I–”

Rob brushed a curl away from her face. “It’s not that I don’t want to – God knows, I’ve been thinking of nothing else all evening – but I’m not a fool, Gemma. I know when a woman is in love with somebody else. You love Cal. It’s as plain as day. He’s the one you want to be with.”

It had to be one of the greatest ironies of all time, thought Gemma, that here she was with one of the most beautiful men on the planet – a man who ticked all of her boxes and had told her that he’d been crazy about her for years – and he was turning her down because she was still in love with Cal. The same Cal who was probably with his gorgeous ex-girlfriend at this very minute, not sparing Gemma a second thought.

She stared at Rob and then exhaled slowly because he was right, wasn’t he? She did love Cal and he was the one she wanted. He didn’t have Rob’s film-star looks or amazing body – but none of that mattered, because he was just Cal. She loved his crazy curly hair, daft sense of humour, bad taste in sports gear and squidgy tummy. She loved
him
. She totally and utterly loved Callum South.

What a bloody mess. It was like arriving at Cadbury World and realising you’d gone off chocolate!

“But it’s over with Cal,” she whispered, and the pain of hearing it aloud was indescribable. What on earth was she doing here? She should have been with Cal for Christmas, working through everything and trying to sort things out. What they had was wonderful and worth fighting for. She must have been mad to step back and let Aoife have him.

“I’ve missed my chance, I know that,” said Rob quietly, “but there’s still a chance for you and Cal if you really want to take it. I can see how you feel about him. Besides, don’t you think the guy deserves to know that he’s going to be a dad?”

“What?” There was a buzzing in Gemma’s ears and the car seemed to be spinning around. “What? What did you just say?”

Rob looked puzzled. “I’m a bloke, but not an idiot. You’re distracted, you’re not drinking and you look exhausted. You’re pregnant, aren’t you? Come on, Gemma. I’ve seen enough pregnant cows in my time to know. Not that you’re anything like a cow!” he added hastily.

Gemma was suddenly far too busy doing some basic maths to be insulted by this comparison. Rob might not be an idiot but she certainly was.

Oh. My. God.

Now it was all starting to fall into place. The pitiless sense of exhaustion, being emotional, feeling nauseous, her boobs trying to compete with Fifi’s, the ever-tightening waistbands even though she’d had a phase of eating less...

“You didn’t know, did you?” asked Rob. He looked stricken. “Oh Gemma, I’m sorry; I thought you must know and be afraid to say.”

Gemma shook her head. “I didn’t… I don’t…”

Her brain was racing. She’d been so caught up with the whole Aoife business that she’d not really paid attention to much at all, even something as obvious as her own body. So much suddenly made sense. Of course. Of course…

Gemma’s hands were shaking. All she wanted to do was call Cal and tell him, but instinct told her that this was the last thing she should do. Cal had to want to be with her because he loved Gemma the way that she loved him – the love so much a part of yourself that it was in your every cell and every heartbeat, the other person the first thought when you woke up and the last when you fell asleep. Spending the rest of her life wondering whether he was only with her out of obligation would be like the slowest and most painful death imaginable.

“It’s Christmas Day,” Rob said, pointing to the clock on the dashboard. He kissed her cheek; this time it was a chaste kiss, unplugged from the crackling electricity of earlier. “Happy Christmas birthday, Gemma. I really hope you manage to work it out with Cal.”

“Happy Christmas, Rob,” Gemma said, kissing him back. Not a frisson or a jolt of anything now. She couldn’t help being relieved. “I hope so too, but somehow I doubt it.”

And Happy Christmas to you too, Cal
, she added silently, once Rob had driven away and she was alone under the starry sky.
I think you’re going to be very surprised when you find out what Santa’s brought us this year!

Chapter 20

If this was what being thirty felt like then Gemma wished she’d stuck at twenty-nine. Every bone in her body ached, her breakfast was curdling in her stomach and the smell of the cooking Christmas dinner threatened to send her retching to the bathroom. She was retching and wretched, Gemma thought miserably, as she sat curled up on the sofa with the
Bread and Butlers
Christmas special playing in the background and a glass of untouched Buck’s Fizz in her hand. So far she’d managed to avoid sherry, mulled wine and even the Baileys, but Gemma knew it was only because her mother was so busy cooking and her brothers were out working on the farm that nobody had time to think this suspiciously out of character.

How on earth had she managed to miss the fact that she was pregnant? Gemma couldn’t believe she’d been so swept up in all the drama that she’d failed to notice something so fundamental. In fairness to her, she had always been irregular – crash diets and stress not helping matters much – and her love life had been fairly sparse lately. But even so…

As soon as Rob’s comment had left his very kissable lips (she couldn’t really think like this anymore, could she?), everything had fallen into place like counters slotting into the winning line in a game of Connect Four. All the anomalies of the past few months, the bone-grinding exhaustion, the ridiculously over-the-top emotions, the lurking nausea and even the tightening of her waistbands – although in fairness this wasn’t really anything unusual – made perfect sense. Gemma didn’t need to drive to a late-night chemist and demand a test to know that Rob was right: every fibre of her being told her he was spot on. Still, this morning she’d gone online to find the nearest emergency chemist and driven over to pick up a test. Peeing on a stick in a public loo wasn’t quite the setting Gemma had imagined for the discovery of her first pregnancy, but there’d been no way she could wait a second longer. She’d done the deed and then sat on the loo seat, her heart racing while the longest three minutes in history passed. Sure enough two blue lines had duly appeared.

So. There it was. The undeniable truth. She was up the duff. Knocked up. Had a baker’s bun in the oven. It didn’t matter how you described it; the question was, what on earth was she going to do? Things between her and Cal could scarcely be worse. How could she break this news to him now?

As she watched the on-screen Angel and Laurence greeting their guests, Gemma chewed her nails and tried to think of a solution. When Cal appeared, looking gorgeous in a moss-green cord shirt and faded Levi’s, her heart felt as though it was going to punch its way through her ribcage. What was she doing here, so far away from him? It wasn’t long ago that they’d told one another everything, even waking up in the night to talk things over or share ideas for new recipes and ventures. When did things change?