Christmas at Butterfly Cove: A delightfully feel-good festive romance!

Luke had seen it in the same gentle interactions between his brother and Matty, his girlfriend’s young son. For someone who’d been adamant about not wanting children of his own, Aaron had taken to Kiki’s little ones with alacrity. It pleased Luke to see. His brother had a heart as big as a lion’s and lived to care for others. At least one of them seemed capable of forging a successful relationship with a Thorpe sister.

Two of them, if he included Daniel. Recently, and sickeningly happily, married to the eldest of the three sisters, his brother’s best friend was close enough to be considered blood. Which left Luke and Nee, and their marriage that wasn’t. Bollocks.

Feeling the heavy weight of his brother’s arm slung around his neck, Luke allowed Aaron to steer him off the street and onto the flagstone patio in front of the King’s Arms. ‘Penny for them,’ Aaron said, although he probably had a pretty good idea where his brother’s thoughts had strayed to.

Luke couldn’t get Nee out of his bloody head. Every time he closed his eyes, her pale, strained face swam into view. Too pale, too thin, like she hadn’t been taking proper care of herself. He hated how much her miserable appearance bothered him, and his voice came out harsher than he intended. ‘They’re not worth a bloody penny.’ He took a breath and softened his tone. ‘Come on, I’m parched.’

They kept the chit-chat light as they waited for Tony, the convivial landlord, to pour their pints. They’d known the red-cheeked man since they’d had to be lifted onto the bar-stools to see, excited at the idea of a glass of pop and a packet of crisps. He added the cost of two bottles of red to their tab, and promised to drop them at their table shortly. Given a choice, Luke would rather have stayed at the bar. Less chance of Aaron raising any awkward topics in front of others. Aaron ignored his suggestion, leaving him little choice other than to follow his brother to a small, round table perched in the corner beneath a collection of horse-brasses ubiquitous to every country pub he’d ever set foot in.

Hoping to head Aaron off at the pass, Luke searched for a neutral topic of conversation. ‘How’re the kids?’

A slow, easy smile spread over his brother’s face, his mega-watt grin as Kiki called it. ‘They’re brilliant. Just amazing. They surprise me every day. Matty’s settling in at school far better than we might have hoped, given all the upheaval he’s been through.’

There was no mistaking the pride in his voice at the boy’s progress and Luke grinned at him. ‘Still stargazing?’

Aaron rolled his eyes. ‘I think we’ve got the next Professor Brian Cox on our hands. Now the nights are drawing in, he’s out there with his telescope every evening the skies are clear enough. We’ve been through every programme he can find on catch-up. I’m not sure he grasps the depth of some of the science, but you should see his eyes when the images of galaxies come up.’

Luke sipped his beer. ‘Can you imagine Dad out there with him? They’d be partners-in-crime, for sure.’ A shadow crossed Aaron’s face and he could have kicked himself. He hadn’t meant anything by it. Brian Spenser loved astronomy and had passed his interest down to both his sons. ‘Sorry. I didn’t think. I understand why you’re taking things slowly in that direction.’

Aaron shifted on the bench beneath the window, throwing his arm along the back of the seat as he settled back to study him. ‘What do you think about it all?’

‘Mum? I don’t know what you said to her, but it’s definitely had an impact. You know she’s making roast beef and Yorkshire puddings for lunch? And apple crumble.’

A faint blush edged his brother’s cheekbones. ‘She didn’t need to go to so much trouble.’

Luke made a rude noise. ‘‘Course she bloody did. Don’t tell me you’re letting her off the hook already! You want to milk this, mate, for as long as you can.’

Aaron shook his head, mouth twisting in amusement. ‘You’re incorrigible.’

He preened. ‘It’s a skill, don’t be jealous.’ They burst out laughing.

His brother took a deep draft of his beer, amusement fading. ‘We’re thinking about having them down for a weekend next month. Mia and Kiki have already set their hearts on some huge family Christmas, so we’re thinking it would be a good idea to introduce them to the children beforehand.’

‘Christmas? It’s months away. Who the hell is thinking about Christmas?’ Luke sputtered.

‘It’s exactly ten weeks today,’ Aaron said in a way that told Luke he’d been subjected to more than one conversation on that point. ‘It’s the number-two topic of conversation between the ladies of Butterfly Cove.’ The way he eyed Luke, it was obvious what subject was at the top of the gossip hit parade.

Luke stared into the depths of his beer, knowing the amber liquid held no answers, but hoping Aaron would get the message and not press the point. Aaron cleared his throat, and Luke braced himself for the worst. What he heard instead shocked a laugh out of him. ‘There’s a surprise birthday party for me next weekend.’

‘I thought the clue was in the word ‘surprise’?’

Aaron chuckled. ‘Charlie told me about it. Made me promise to keep it a secret. I had to cross my heart and everything.’ Luke could picture him doing exactly that. The little girl hung the moon and stars for his brother. He had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Aaron being able to indulge his love for Disney films.

‘Well, I’m sure it’ll be a hoot. Show me your shocked face – you can’t spoil the surprise.’

Aaron gurned at him, contorting his face into evermore ludicrous expressions until Luke held a hand up in surrender. ‘Stop, stop, for God’s sake, before I do myself an injury.’ He clutched a hand to his aching ribs, marvelling at his brother’s ability to lift his mood.

‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at,’ Aaron sniffed. ‘You’ll have to pretend you don’t know anything about it when Kiki calls to invite you.’

And, he was even better at blindsiding him. Knowing the way those bloody women schemed, they’d probably cooked up the idea of the party just to try and force him to go down there. ‘I’m not coming to Butterfly Cove.’

‘Luke…’

The ever-present simmer of anger in his gut boiled over. ‘Leave it!’ Damn. None of this was Aaron’s fault, not Kiki’s or Mia’s either. There was only one person responsible for turning his life upside down.

Again.

He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry.’

His brother hunched closer across the table. ‘You have to speak to her sometime, bro. I don’t know what happened to her in New York, but she’s a mess.’

His temper spiked again. ‘And how is that my problem?’

Aaron gripped his forearm. ‘She’s your wife, Luke. For better, for worse and all that.’

He’d heard enough. He loved Aaron, but if he didn’t shut the hell up, Luke would say something unforgivable. He stood up, lifted his glass and drained the last third of his pint. ‘We’d better get back.’ He left the table without another word.

He was a couple of hundred yards up the road before Aaron caught up with him. Falling into step, he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. ‘We heard your argument, Kiki and me. After the wedding.’

Luke stopped dead. ‘What?’

Aaron faced him, one shoulder lifted in an apologetic shrug. ‘Outside the barn. We didn’t mean to. We were in the shadows at the side of the building.’

What the hell had they been doing lurking in the dark like that? It had been the night Aaron finally opened his heart to Kiki and… oh. The embarrassed flush on his brother’s face spoke volumes. He raised an eyebrow at him and the redness darkened.

‘Yeah, anyway. We weren’t snooping, but we heard what Nee said, about leaving you being a mistake. She sounded pretty sincere to me. Can’t you at least give her a chance to explain?’

A car approached, and they stepped onto the grass verge to let it pass. As soon as the road was clear again, Luke started walking. He didn’t want to think about the wedding. Didn’t want to think about how delicate and slight Nee had looked, the aching sorrow in her voice when she’d tried to talk to him. He heard Aaron’s footsteps behind him. Without looking around, he held up a hand in warning. ‘No more. The subject is closed.’

He couldn’t give her a chance to explain, because then he’d have to admit to the true source of his anger – himself. For all his protestations, he didn’t care why she’d left. He just wanted her back. And what kind of an idiot did that make him?

Chapter Three

It had taken all her powers of persuasion, but Nee had eventually convinced Mia and Kiki she was the best person to travel home to help their dad. She’d made sure not to give any hint leaving Butterfly Cove was anything more than a temporary arrangement. A bit of space away from everyone would hopefully give her time to think, and to come up with a plan for what she would do now her art was lost to her.

She had other reasons too. So many things had moved on while she was away, and running to catch up was exhausting. Her sisters had reached a compromise with their father over the past and were moving forwards. Nee had watched him at the wedding, especially with the little ones, and hadn’t been able to stifle a bite of jealousy when he’d balanced a laughing Charlie on his feet and danced around the marquee with her. She rolled her shoulders to shrug off the unwelcome reminder. Nee had never been a jealous person, never doubted her own worth and importance to the people in her life who mattered, until…

The announcer called her station and she watched the people around her stand and sway their way between the seats towards the door. She remained seated. Her suitcase perched in the rack by the corridor door, hemmed in on all sides. What was it that made people so desperate to be first off? She’d never been on a train where people didn’t start queueing five minutes before arrival. Nor on a flight where someone didn’t pop their seatbelt open before the indicator light turned out. Once that first click sounded, a wave of others invariably rippled around the cabin. As if once one person had disobeyed the rules, it made it all right for them too. You could always spot the Brits in those situations by their guilty glances, as though they expected to be told off.

The platform came into view through the window beside her and Nee watched the people crammed by the door and counted silently in her head, three, two, one… The train jerked to a halt as the driver applied the brake, sending one unprepared passenger staggering into the person in front of him. A domino ripple of bumps, pushes and glares followed. She shook her head. Every time. As soon as the crowd thinned, she slipped from her seat to join the back of the group, pausing to haul her case down from the rack as she passed it.

A tall, dapper figure waited for her on the platform, and she couldn’t help the small smile on her lips. Rain or shine, George Thorpe would be dressed in his usual uniform of pressed trousers, smart shirt and a jacket or buttoned-up cardigan. Today, he’d added a black woollen coat and a dark, felt trilby hat. He moved towards her, then stopped, an uncertain expression on his face. He removed his hat, turning the brim in his hand in a nervous gesture. ‘Hello, Eirênê, how was your journey?’

She popped up the handle on her rolling suitcase, and closed the gap between them. ‘Fine, thanks.’ They did an awkward little dance when he tried to take the case from her, and she hung on to it. ‘Leave it, I can manage.’

George shrugged awkwardly. ‘The car’s not far.’ He settled his hat upon his head, checking the brim was straight. No jaunty angles allowed.

The silly thought made her smile, and she made sure he saw it as she gestured in front of her. ‘Lead on, MacDuff.’ He started a little at her words, and she frowned. It was one of those things she’d always said, picked up unconsciously from somewhere long ago. A memory tickled the back of her mind, of a smiling, happier-looking George lining his three daughters up in a row. Nee could feel herself bursting with pride at being put at the front of the line. ‘Lead on, Macduff!’ George had ordered, and they’d marched down the front path. Where they’d been going was lost to her now, but the long-discarded memory reminded her things hadn’t always been doom and gloom.

Traffic was light, and they made quick progress through the town, the dark saloon purring through the streets. Gentle strains of classical music drifted from the speakers, negating the need for either of them to make much small talk. There was no denying the air of tension between them, though. Nee swallowed a sigh. Between her father’s natural reticence and her own resentment towards him, the next few days were likely to be a struggle. One of them would have to make the first move, and somehow, she couldn’t imagine it would be him. Time to break the ice.

‘Matty’s settling in well at school. Still a bit shy, Kiki says, but he’s coming out of his shell nicely. There’s even talk about him joining the local cubs. They’ve got a taster session coming up. The teashop opened last weekend, did you hear?’

George drew to a halt at a set of lights and half-turned in his seat. ‘That was quick.’

She nodded. ‘The conversion works didn’t take long, and we all pitched in with the decorating.’ She might not be able to find the inspiration to create something of her own, but she’d wielded a brush and roller easily enough. They’d found some pretty stencils at the local DIY store, and Nee had added bright, summer flowers and a spray of butterflies to one crisp, white wall. It was the closest she was likely to come to having anything of hers on display.

Breaking away from those thoughts before she slipped into another spiral of melancholy, she continued the conversation, although George had turned his attention back to the road. ‘If the weather picks up next week, they might entice a few half-term visitors looking for a bite to eat. Mia’s guests are going to be directed there and there’s enough people using the studios to make it worth their while being open.’

‘Ah. That makes sense, I suppose. I’ve rather lost track of dates now I’m not working.’ His voice sounded a little wistful. George had left the job he loved at the local university, making way for Kiki’s ex-husband to succeed him, in exchange for his agreement to a trouble-free divorce. It had been a remarkable sacrifice for a man who’d attached his entire self-worth and image to his career. His passion for ancient Greece and its history had trumped everything, including the needs of his wife and daughters.

‘How are you coping with retirement, Dad?’ she asked as he turned into the driveway and parked before the smartly painted garage door. He didn’t immediately answer, choosing instead to exit the car. Nee sighed and followed him out. Perhaps she should have stuck to less difficult topics.

Waiting while her dad retrieved her case from the boot, she studied the familiar red-brick edifice of her childhood home. Ruthlessly weeded borders sat beneath the front windows, and there was not a hint of moss on the path dividing the tightly clipped lawn. With its neat net curtains and tidy paintwork, it presented a perfect façade to the outside world. How many other houses in this quiet street hid the kind of dark secrets that lay behind the innocuous-looking front door? Letting George manage the burden of her luggage this time, she squared her shoulders and followed him inside.

Braced for the floral-sweet scent of her mother’s perfume, and an onslaught of memories, Nee smelled only lemon furniture polish and the rich gravy of some kind of stew. It was as though the house had already shed Vivian’s presence. ‘You made dinner?’ George had never been one for that.

He placed her case at the foot of the stairs, then hung his hat and coat on one of the hooks by the door. ‘I asked Wendy to make something nice for you. I thought you might be hungry.’ He raised a finger to her cheek, stopping just short of touching her skin. ‘You look tired, my dear.’

The unexpected tenderness of his tone and the concern shining in those dark-brown eyes that matched her own broke through the wall she’d tried so hard to maintain. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. ‘I’m tired, Daddy. So bloody tired.’

‘Come here.’ George opened his arms and she stumbled into them, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap as she started to cry in earnest. It was like a dam had broken within her, and all the tension of the past few weeks came pouring out. Her throat hurt with the force of the ugly sobs racking her body.

Her father’s hands settled on her back, patting her with the tentative gestures of a man unused to offering such comforts. Her heart gave a funny little flip. He was trying so hard to do right by them all. She hiccupped a few breaths, forcing herself to regain a bit of control. The wool of his cardigan clung damply to her cheek. Poor George – she was making a terrible mess of it. Easing back, she raised her arm to scrub her face.

‘Use this.’ George offered her a perfectly folded handkerchief.

Her breath hitched in a little laugh and she mopped at her face. ‘Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m supposed to be here to help you.’

He rubbed the top of her arm. ‘Maybe I can do something to help you a little bit too. God knows, it’s past time I acted like a father should.’ She nodded, fearing any attempt to speak would set her tears off again. He checked his watch. ‘It’s still early. Why don’t you go and lie down for an hour and then we can see about dinner?’

‘Okay.’ Nee reached for her bag, but he shook his head.

‘Leave it. I’ll put it outside your door in a minute.’

Obeying meekly wasn’t a feature of Nee’s skill set, but she didn’t have the energy to protest that she could manage for herself. Right now, she wasn’t sure that was entirely true. Letting George fuss over her wouldn’t do any harm, might give him something else to focus on. And it spoke to a quiet, yearning part of her heart she hadn’t realised existed, having grown up convincing herself she didn’t need to lean on anyone.

She started to climb the stairs, stopping before her foot touched the first tread when she realised she still had her outdoor shoes on. Some things were too deeply ingrained, it seemed. Toeing off her shoes, she tucked them beneath the coat pegs then padded upstairs in her socks. Exhaustion dogged her heels and by the time she reached her old bedroom, she could do little more than shed her jeans before crawling under the floral quilt.

Heavy-eyed, she stared at the old band posters scattered between paintings of trees, animals and birds she’d applied directly to the pale-yellow paintwork. It was exactly as she’d left it six years previously, ready to take on the world and make her mark. Only things hadn’t worked out quite how she’d planned. The world had left her scarred and scared, whilst she’d made barely a ripple.

She closed her eyes against the prickle of fresh tears. Twenty-four was too damn young to feel this old.

Whether the emotional overload had got to her, or it was just the sheer comfort of lying in a bed her body knew every inch of, Nee slept like the dead. Dark shadows had crept into the corners of her room, and when she checked her watch, more than two hours had passed. Feeling groggy, but much calmer for the rest, she donned her jeans, retrieved her case from the hallway and swapped her wrinkled top for a clean one. A quick splash of water on her face and cleaning her teeth chased any lingering drowsiness away. The smell of dinner drifted up the stairs, and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

The door to her father’s study stood wide. Well, that’s something that’s changed in this house, at least. George’s study had always been a private sanctorum, not to be entered by little girls with grubby fingers who might cause chaos in a space dedicated to order. Feeling every inch that little girl, Nee made sure her toes didn’t cross the brass door plate which divided the pale-green hallway carpet from the navy of the study.

George bent over a large, leather-bound notebook, filling the lines with his neat script. Several textbooks lay open across the dark wood of his desk, each secured with a paperweight. The faint strains of Radio 4 drifted from a digital radio on the bookcase behind him. He glanced up in surprise at her light tap on the doorframe. ‘Oh, hello, Eirênê, I didn’t hear you come down. Feeling any better?’

She nodded. ‘Much, but you shouldn’t have left me so long. Aren’t you hungry?’

Capping his fountain pen, George glanced at the small carriage clock on the corner of his desk. ‘I didn’t realise the time. Got caught up in…’ He cast an embarrassed wave over the papers in front of him and she couldn’t help but smile. He was never not going to get caught up in his books.

She braced a hand on the doorframe and leaned forwards, trying to read the titles on a small stack of books. ‘What are you working on?’

He sat back in his chair. ‘You can come in, you know.’

‘Old habits,’ she said, taking a couple of steps inside.

‘You were always my little rule-breaker on everything but that.’ A shadow crossed his face, but he forced a smile. ‘To answer your question, I decided to try and write a children’s version of some of my favourite Greek legends. The book I found for Matthew about the origins of the constellations was a bit dry for a seven-year-old. I’m hoping to have some new stories ready for my visit at Christmas.’

Her stomach twisted at the happy expectation in his tone. Christmas had been a tightrope of hope and disappointment growing up. One of the few times their mother roused herself from her room and re-engaged with the family. Embracing the chance to be the perfect hostess, Vivian threw herself into the performance, decorating the house, planning meals and buying gifts. Nee and her sisters would receive new dresses to be worn, and for the next twelve months the mantelpiece would carry the image of a family which didn’t exist for the rest of the year.

She could still feel the flutter of excitement, the shake in her hands as she forced herself to carefully unwrap the beautiful stack of presents under the tree, trying to do everything just right to keep Vivian happy. There would always be something, though. A little hiccup, an insignificant incident most people wouldn’t think twice about. But Vivian would dwell upon it, pick it over until it overshadowed everything else. She would inevitably retire to bed, and their father would disappear into his study, leaving the three of them to watch television and try to play board games without someone there to teach them the rules.

It was only as she grew older that Nee became aware of the extent of her mother’s drinking, and the excitement of opening presents was overtaken by waiting with trepidation for the first morning sherry to be poured. She’d begun to rebel against it at twelve, becoming the catalyst which would shatter the pretence. At fifteen, she’d refused flat-out to participate, not knowing it would turn out to be the last Christmas they would all be under the same roof. A year later, Kiki and Mia were both married and making their own homes, leaving Nee caught in the spiralling tragedy of her parents’ unhappiness.

Angry. She’d been so angry with them both for as long as she could remember. Looking at George now, a grey shadow of his former self, face lined with the pain of all those years, she let it go. However bad things had been for her, how much worse must it have been for him, for him and Vivian both, to have spent thirty years tied to someone you loved, but couldn’t make happy.

She hoped this year he would find some peace, and spending time at Butterfly Cove with everyone might be just the thing to bring it to him. Just a shame she wouldn’t be there to witness it. She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about it, because then she’d start thinking about the reason why she wouldn’t be there, why she couldn’t be there. Luke. ‘Come on, Dad, let’s eat.’

Feeling stronger after the hearty stew and a decent night’s sleep, Nee decided to seize the bull by the horns and visit her mother after breakfast the next morning. George had offered to accompany her, but she couldn’t be sure of her reaction and didn’t want to risk the fragile peace they’d begun to build. She’d left him with a cup of tea in his study to continue working on the stories for Matty.