The Christmas Promise Page 24

  Sam moved things on. ‘Manda Jane, what do we have for Ruby?’ He smothered a yawn.

  Ava yanked her attention back to her computer. Before her mega-gaffe she would have sent him a tiny conspiratorial smile: and we both know why you’re so tired …

  He would have smiled back: And I’m up for more, believe me. But now she just felt sick with guilt.

  Maybe if some of these email enquiries paid off she’d go and see her parents in the spring. Get away from London for a while. Away from men. Away from her mistakes.

  The last few minutes ground by. As others were beginning to close laptops and pick up their bags, Ava began to do the same. ‘Ava?’ Once again, she jumped when Sam said her name. Now he was standing by the door with Patrick. ‘Can you give us a moment, please?’

  She felt as if every gaze in the room was upon her as she rose and followed the men back into Sam’s office. She was sickeningly certain that they were going to tell her that they were going to drop her from the remainder of the campaign. She’d accepted their huge favour and then acted like an irrational bitch.

  Her legs trembled as Sam reached around and closed the door behind her.

  Patrick spoke almost before the latch had clicked. ‘It was me,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Stuck between Christmas and a hard place

  Sam stared at Patrick. ‘You?’ he repeated, stupidly.

  For once, Patrick’s smile was absent. He began to speak in jerky sentences. ‘We had a lot to drink. I couldn’t leave Izz to stagger home alone.’ He paused and swallowed. ‘We got back to her house and I helped her upstairs.’

  His eyes flickered to Ava, who was standing statue-still. ‘I’m incredibly sorry,’ he said. ‘But we could hear you. I wasn’t sure if Izz was going to get upset so I made a few jokes, saying I hoped Harvey wasn’t up there with his camera phone. Then Izz told me she’d been backing up messages and images so that Ava had evidence about her ex’s threats if needed. I said …’ He closed his eyes and took a big breath. ‘I was drunk. I said the pictures would be really safe on the server at the agency and maybe we ought to send them? I was laughing, it was an outrageous idea, never meant to be taken seriously. Izz started spouting off tech-talk about being able to identify where they’d come from by the IP address, then she got the giggles and said the most confusing scenario would be if the images appeared to come from Ava’s phone. She told me how it would work. I asked her to show me. And … we did it. It seemed quite funny.’

  Ava’s eyes dilated fearfully. ‘You mean you’ve seen the images?’

  ‘No!’ Patrick assured her hastily. ‘I promise I never saw the actual images. It was just a file.’

  ‘Then why would it seem funny?’ Ava whispered.

  Patrick winced. ‘Because we were drunk. I could hear Sam’s voice and knew who was up there with you and, in that state of inebriation, it felt as if a practical joke was justified in a stupid, juvenile getting-my-own-back way because he’d scored … I mean, was successful with you when I wasn’t. Ava, I am most terribly sorry. Sam, you must hate me.’

  ‘Right now?’ Sam croaked. ‘I hardly trust myself to speak to you. You know I could terminate my agency agreement with you over uploading these images onto the company server, don’t you? Hell, I could probably get you arrested.’

  Panic flitted over Patrick’s face. ‘I thought I could put it right. I was trying all morning to get onto the server and delete the files but the way we were working today I couldn’t get the privacy I needed for long enough. I kept texting Izz but she didn’t wake up until mid-afternoon, and then she couldn’t get into the system.’

  ‘Because I’ve revoked her remote access privileges.’ If Sam had felt anger towards Ava earlier, it was nothing compared to this. He seriously thought he was in danger of getting a nosebleed.

  ‘She texted me in a panic but it was too late – I had to tell her that Tod had already found the file.’

  Desolation made Ava’s eyes blank. ‘Is this why you and Izz joined forces? To find a way of doing something like this? Was Izz really that angry to know I was with Sam?’

  Patrick dropped his head in his hands. ‘No! We hardly even mentioned you. We— we just had a good night out. There were three bands on and she knew someone at Koko and we got backstage. When you can get past Izz’s barriers, she’s good company.’

  ‘Fine time for you to finally work that out,’ snapped Ava, bitterly.

  When Ava got home, Izz was in the sitting room in the dark, crying in the kind of gulping sobs that were painful to listen to, a mountain of damp tissues on the floor around her feet.

  Ava switched on a lamp and dropped down in the red chair, shattered in every sense of the word. ‘There’s no point crying,’ she said, flatly. ‘I know what happened. I know you were drunk. I know you probably didn’t intend the harm you caused. Patrick has explained and taken all the blame.’

  ‘I’m so sorry!’ Izz wailed. ‘I showed him how to do it.’

  ‘I know. You were drunk. It seemed like a prank. Alcohol’s got a lot to answer for in my life.’

  Izz cried harder. ‘Don’t be … nice to me! Do-on’t forgive me!’ she sobbed. ‘Patrick phoned and said you and Sam have had a massive row and are hardly speaking.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Ava felt numb. ‘I guess it’s over before it began.’

  ‘Oh no! I didn’t mean that to happen. Honestly, Ava, I did get over my stupid crush on Sam.’

  Ava shrugged. ‘I think it probably was an infantile prank rather than malice, but the damage is done. In the same way that Sam feels hurt and betrayed by me I feel hurt and betrayed by you, but both of us can understand how it happened.’ She dragged herself to her feet. ‘My dad’s coming round. Can you do me a favour and get lost? I don’t want to have to make awkward explanations.’ She turned towards the stairs.

  Izz sobbed. ‘Sam’s told me to stay away from the agency until he contacts me in the new year while he decides what to do.’

  ‘I know.’ Ava kept on walking. ‘He said the same to Patrick.’

  As she was preparing the meal, Ava snatched moments on her laptop to play her agreed part in the campaign, picking up links to retweet and share as more websites, blogs and paper.lis picked up the story; going through the motions with none of the earlier part of the day’s excitement. The links came from Emily, from Manda Jane and from Sam. The girls were coolly polite but Sam was terse and remote. She didn’t blame him for only accepting her apology superficially.

  She knew the passion and vulnerability that simmered beneath Sam’s surface. The pride and integrity. And now she knew the rage. Ava had accused Sam without evidence and without hesitation.

  When her phone rang she read Tod on the screen, and answered.

  ‘Are you OK?’ His voice was soaked in sympathy.

  Ava had to blink back tears. ‘I will be.’

  ‘Look …’ He let a pause draw out. ‘About Christmas. I don’t have to go to Louise’s family. You and I could do Christmas together.’

  Ava was incredibly touched that he was prepared to risk incurring the wrath of Louise, just for her. ‘I couldn’t let you do that. But you’re a lovely friend, Tod.’

  When they’d ended the call the house was quiet. No music blasted from Izz’s room, because Izz had packed and gone off to Hampshire, miserably contrite. Flowers had arrived from Patrick, probably costing a fortune at such a busy time of year and at such short notice. She’d taken the bouquet to a nearby community centre. The manager had accepted them gladly, saying they had a ‘do’ that evening where she’d raffle them off in aid of the Christmas dinner for the homeless.

  Graeme turned up about half an hour late. ‘I’ve been having a drink with a mate,’ he explained, dropping a kiss on her forehead. ‘Mmm, something smells good.’

  ‘Bolognese. Very unChristmassy.’ Ava hugged him hard, comforted to see him, however tardily. Glad to see anyone whose expression wasn’t full of either accusation or guilt. ‘Was it
the mate in high-tech surveillance who can make things disappear?’

  Graeme tapped the side of his nose. ‘Make things disappear? Can’t think what you’re talking about.’ He grinned, hotching himself inelegantly onto a stool, the one that was usually Izz’s. ‘What exciting thing was it you were up to today?’

  Ava explained about the Glennister campaign and trying to drive it viral as she warmed the garlic bread and set the plates on the breakfast bar. She didn’t mention accusing Sam of stealing the intimate photos from her phone.

  Or his pain, which she’d recognised eventually, when her own pain and panic had subsided sufficiently. No question about how to bitterly insult Sam Jermyn: publicly accuse him of having no integrity. For added power, do it fresh on the heels of a shared sweaty night of sex.

  Papering over the cracks of her despair with a smile, she presented the meal and sat down.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ Graeme said, when he’d talked about Le Café Littéraire Anglais for about half an hour and Ava had cleared less than half her plate.

  She manufactured a smile. ‘I was just interested in what you were saying. I miss you, you know.’ She blinked prickling eyes. ‘I thought we might Skype Mum after dinner.’

  ‘Good idea.’ He tore off a double chunk of garlic bread. His gaze had sharpened. ‘But before that, why don’t you tell me what’s gone wrong in your life since yesterday? I left you euphoric over defeating the dreadful Snaith and come back to find you looking as if your puppy has just died.’

  Ava swallowed a sob.

  Graeme’s voice softened. ‘Whatever it is, sweetheart, you can tell me. Hasn’t the crap over Harvey convinced you of that?’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘I will always be on your side, you know.’

  The muscles in Ava’s face were seized by an involuntary spasm.

  ‘Hey, hey,’ Graeme rumbled. He scrambled off his stool and Ava found herself in her dad’s arms with tears pouring down her face as she burbled and blubbed out the whole sorry story.

  Graeme held her until the sobs finally subsided and his cashmere jumper was soaked at the shoulder.

  Not sure if she felt better or worse, Ava reached for the kitchen roll and trumpeted her nose dolefully. ‘I feel a complete worm and Sam hates me.’

  Graeme’s arms remained solidly around her. ‘He might think he does, for now. Give him time. You hit him where it hurts but you’ve apologised and that’s all you can do. Let him cool down.’

  Ava gave a strangled laugh. ‘No magic mate to sort this one out for me, Dad? To make it disappear?’

  ‘Afraid not,’ he said ruefully, stroking her hair. ‘The only ones who can sort this out are you and Sam.’

  Laying her cheek against her father’s comforting strength, Ava closed her sore eyes to ease her aching head. ‘Thanks for coming to England to help me with Harvey. You were fantastic and it must have been expensive to fly out last minute right before Christmas. I love you.’

  He held her closer. ‘I love you, too. Are you going to be all right if I go home tomorrow, sweetheart? I could try and change my flight to Monday.’

  She pulled away a fraction to blow her nose again. ‘Christmas Eve? I doubt it would be possible. Anyway, I’ll be fine. I can stand on my own two feet.’

  He smiled sadly. ‘That’s what we brought you up to do, wasn’t it? It’s what you said when we talked to you about us going to live in France. “I think thirty is old enough for me to stand on my own two feet.” Was it true?’

  A shaky laugh. ‘It was a bit tougher financially than I thought it would be but things are looking much better.’ Sam helped a lot. Too much to bear thinking about right now. ‘I was even thinking today I’d be able to afford to visit you and Mum in the spring.’

  ‘Why not come back with me for Christmas? We’ve got things planned. Le Café Littéraire Anglais has provided all kinds of goodies for the children’s Christingle and I’ve been dressing up as Papa Noël …’

  ‘Why now?’ Ava asked, carefully.

  Graeme hesitated.

  Maybe it was the catastrophe her year was turning out to be, but his answer assumed huge importance, as if in it lay the key to the part of Ava’s relationship with her parents that she’d never understood. ‘Why are you suddenly doing Christmas now that your only child is grown up? Why are you dressing up as Papa Noël for other children?’ Ava could hear injury in her voice but couldn’t seem to stop. ‘When I was a kid, Christmas was just a nuisance to you. A time of extra shifts and extra pressure, “stupid commercialism” and “convenient religion” and “utter hypocrisy”. You and Mum used to try and make it home for Christmas dinner between fighting crime or saving lives. You volunteered for it.’ Fresh tears began to skate hopelessly down her cheeks. ‘You made me hate Christmas, too.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ breathed Graeme. His arms tightened around Ava until she could hardly breathe. ‘Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. We thought that we were getting the best of both worlds. We were ambitious and career orientated and then you came along—’

  ‘And spoiled it all.’

  ‘No.’ He swallowed noisily. ‘You were a bit of a surprise but we adored you from the moment we knew you were on the way. I was going to say that you came along and we thought we could just absorb you into our world. We had certain ideals and we held fast to them.’ Remorse thickened his voice. ‘We thought we could bring you up as a kind of mini-adult, to care for others and be on the side of good. We didn’t really realise that sometimes children need to be children and they have a right to enjoy Christmas.’

  A sigh shook him. ‘I can’t say you’re wrong about how we used to feel about Christmas. It can be a time of commercialism and religious convenience and hypocrisy. But what we’ve discovered in our new, more relaxed life, is that it’s other things. It’s a time for family, for love, for community. For fun for the sake of it. For giving and receiving, sharing and laughing.’

  Ava swiped at her tears with the sodden piece of kitchen roll and looked outside of her own desolation long enough to see that Graeme’s face was drawn in lines of grief. ‘It sounds lovely,’ she said, with compunction. She inhaled a long wavering breath and tried a laugh that didn’t quite come off. ‘I’m sorry I cried, Dad. It’s really my day for upsetting people. I didn’t mean to be so “poor little me”. I’m glad that you’re loving your new life, truly.’

  Graeme didn’t let her step away when she made to, but captured her hands. The tiny lines beside his eyes glistened with moisture. ‘I meant it when I asked you to share this Christmas with us. It’s not too late. I’ll get on the internet and find flights, or a Eurostar seat. Worst-case scenario, I’ll find a car to hire and we’ll drive. You can learn carols in French and come with us to Midnight Mass. Mum would adore it.’

  For about half a second, Ava was tempted to let her dad make everything better for her once more. He’d been so successful in making those images go away. She could let her parents give her the kind of Christmas she’d always wanted. She could be cosseted and loved.

  But that wasn’t the person she was. Eager hope had barely formed on Graeme’s face before Ava was shaking her head. ‘I’d love to next year, Dad. It sounds great, but I have plans for Christmas Day, and work to finish before then.’

  It might be a giant leap of faith on her part but she was going to try and repay Sam for everything he’d done by staying in England to be available to help give Wendy her pre-chemo Christmas.

  Graeme hesitated delicately. ‘Are you certain that your plans will come off?’

  Ava found a new piece of kitchen roll and blew her nose defiantly. ‘Nobody’s told me that they won’t.’

  If Sam did un-invite her she’d just be alone and ignore Christmas. She didn’t like it, anyway.

  Wendy’s face was a mask of fatigue. She ate little of the meal Vanessa had prepared though it was exactly the light and tasty dinner she’d usually have chosen. Sam was glad he hadn’t insisted they go out. By nine o’clock his mother was finding it hard to bear her part
of the conversation and Snickers and Mars were lying at her feet, watching her anxiously.

  ‘If you need an early night, Mum, just go ahead.’ Sam watched her discard her after-dinner coffee, half-drunk.

  ‘It seems wrong when we’re your guests.’

  He gave her a careful hug. She’d always been slight but now it felt as if he could snap her. ‘You’re my mother. You don’t have to feel like a guest. Go to bed, stay up, go out, stay in, nobody minds. Make yourself at home.’

  ‘Are we seeing Ava tomorrow? Or Christmas Eve?’

  He made his voice casual. ‘She’s getting a lot of sales enquires so I wouldn’t count on it.’

  Wendy’s eyes were trusting, without guile. ‘What time’s she coming on Christmas Day?’

  ‘On the “to be decided” list. It’s been a bit hectic.’

  Yawning, Wendy untangled herself from his hug. ‘Of course. It’s not as if she’s likely to forget the date, is it?’

  ‘Doubt it.’ It came out hoarsely and he had to manufacture a wide smile as his mother went off to her room.

  Vanessa, curled up in a chair, waited until her sister was out of earshot. ‘I think Wendy overdid things today. She’s so excited to be here and she wanted to go to a matinee of White Christmas and for lunch and everything. The spirit was willing but the body was weak.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Tiredly, Sam rubbed his eyes. He felt as if he was seeing through grit.

  ‘But I think she’ll come through.’ Vanessa moved over to the sofa and gave his arm a comforting pat. ‘She’s been so excited that she probably didn’t sleep well for the last night or two. If you and I are slow to get moving tomorrow morning and claim that we need a lie in, she’ll rest more.’

  He nodded. ‘A lie in sounds fantastic.’

  ‘If you’re going to be here in the morning? Not going to Ava’s tonight?’ A glint of mischief lit her eyes.

  He shook his head and changed the subject. ‘How about you? Would you like to go out for a drink or to catch a late show at the cinema?’