Page 50 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

The cold was like needles pricking her skin as she weaved past shoppers enjoying the festive atmosphere, but the chill was a welcome diversion from the dread swirling in her stomach.

She headed straight for the Hallow-Hart hut but it was locked up, and when she peered through a gap in the wood there was no sign of her mum inside.

The unresolved words between them were a thicket of brambles growing in her chest, knotted and thorny.

She hurried on down the high street to Liam’s hut but that, too, was padlocked shut. Mum, where are you?

If she couldn’t find her mum, then maybe she could speak to Ryan, make sure he was okay at least, and then she’d keep on looking.

She imagined Warren crowing at his news desk. Arrrrghh! What had she been thinking? Warren was all the same mistakes she’d made before, plus a few new ones.

Somewhere in Pine Bluff, two people she cared about deeply were thinking badly of her, and she almost couldn’t bear it. She would swear she could feel their chagrin carried on the cold north wind, and it made her legs want to buckle under her. She needed to apologize for so many things.

She burst into Coast Roast like a whirling dervish, apologies exploding on her tongue, only to find Mina staring at her with an expression that could curdle cream.

“Can I help you?” she asked, in voice of such frozen politeness that the inference was clearly, “Can I shove icicles through your eyeballs?”

Fred couldn’t blame her. By now the whole town would know the full extent of Warren’s betrayal, and she’d been sat right next to him while he hatched his plans.

Fred was in a 360-degree mess, and the evidence slapped her in the face every which way she turned. She took a breath and tried to swallow down some of the anxiety that was crawling up her throat.

“I’m l-looking f-for Ryan,” she managed to stammer. “Is he here?”

Mina sucked in a frustrated breath. “No.”

“Can you tell me where he is? Please?”

Mina’s mouth was a thin disapproving line.

“Please! I need to find him. I swear I had NOTHING to do with that article.”

She watched as Mina wrestled with what she should do. Finally, with a great huff of a sigh, she relented. “He’s out on deliveries. You could try Eadie’s, but he might already be at the Forest Inn.”

“Thank you!” she said, gratefully.

“Don’t make me regret it!” she shouted after her as Fred blew back out of the shop.

Ryan wasn’t in Eadie’s, and her reception there was even chillier than it had been at Coast Roast. At the deli she wasn’t even allowed to cross the threshold.

The high street was cheek-by-jowl busy as visitors flocked around the market stalls, and Fred had to squeeze her way between shoppers. She kept hoping to see her mum in the crowd, but there was no sign of her. By now she’d lost track of how many times she’d called her.

The Forest Inn was relatively quiet, the lunch rush wouldn’t start for another hour or so, but a few tables were occupied by people sipping cappuccinos, either escaping from the melee outside or bracing themselves to face it once again.

She headed for the bar to be greeted by a stony-faced Andreas, and steeled herself to make what felt like her seventy-fifth apology this morning.

“Hi, Andreas, I want you to know that I’m sorry about everything.

I didn’t know. I realize that’s of little help to anyone but it’s true, I never would have…

” She could tell from his expression that he wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

Even sweet-natured Andreas was done with her.

Making amends seemed like an insurmountable task.

But it was a task that would have to wait. “Have you seen Ryan?”

“You’ve missed him.”

“Do you know where he was headed next?”

From the other end of the bar a familiar voice croaked, “He mentioned something about doing a delivery a few miles round the coast. I forget the name of the place.” It was Liam, sitting alone, gazing at an Americano like he wished it was a whisky.

His voice was gravelly, as if he hadn’t spoken in days, or he’d been screaming into the void for hours.

Fred hadn’t known it was possible to harbor so many different types of guilt all at once. But the worst incarnation of this unwelcome emotion was the one creeping up on her now; the knowledge in every fiber of her being that she had broken something, possibly irrevocably, within her mother.

She pulled up a stool next to Liam’s. “Have you seen Mum?” she asked. “We had an argument that didn’t get settled, and I can’t find her.”

“I’ve seen your mother.” His voice was flat, and Fred experienced a terrible sinking feeling.

She cleared her throat, almost too afraid to ask, for fear of the answer. “What did she say?”

“That we can’t be together.”

Oh Goddess! Please help me fix this!

“I’m so sorry, Liam—”

“Are you, now?” He cut her off, pulling his gaze from his coffee to look at her. “What exactly are you sorry for?” he asked. His tone made it clear that this was not a rhetorical question, and she quailed at the hollowness in his eyes.

Her words tumbled out in a rush. “I didn’t mean for Mum to break up with you.

I mean, I did at first—because I was surprised and because I’m judgy and I blurt stuff out before I’ve engaged my brain—and then I didn’t, but all hell broke loose in the kitchen with the article before I had the chance to tell her that she had my blessing.

Not that you need it; if you guys want to be together, then of course you should be.

And honestly there is no one else I would rather she was with than you.

” She gasped in a breath, and continued.

“I was only worried because you know how she used to be and I didn’t want either of you to get hurt.

But that’s not my call, and then Mum left and she’s not answering her phone, and I have fucked everything up so badly I don’t know what to do and I am so, so sorry.

” She took another deep breath. “Do you know where she is? I can make this right. Don’t give up on her. Please. Don’t give up on me either.”

He looked away from her, shaking his head. “I don’t know where she’s gone. But I do know that every decision Bella has ever made has had you at the heart of it.”

It felt like an accusation, and it almost doubled her over.

“The aunts said there were things I don’t know,” she said quietly, hoping that he might take pity on her and fill in the gaps.

Liam opened his mouth, and then he seemed to reconsider. He took a moment, stared into his cooling Americano, and said, “Bella would never want you to be burdened, and I respect her too much to go against her wishes. But it’s always been for you, Fred, all of it.”

Fred left the pub in a state of deep apprehension.

She’d muttered some further meager apologies to Liam, but her thoughts were a muddled panic as she found herself walking quickly toward Frost Hardware, pushing against the tide of people who swarmed along the street.

The snow was falling fast, and it whipped against her hot cheeks, goaded by a bitter wind that felt personal.

The Naughty List outside the shop had been updated.

Every other name had been rubbed out and replaced with Fred Hallow-Hart , each iteration of her name made out in a different hand.

“Shit!” she hissed under her breath.

The bell jangled above her head as she pushed open the door and walked into the quiet shop. Martha looked up, smiling, from where she was wrapping presents on the counter for the grotto, but her smile melted upon seeing Fred, dissolving any resemblance between her and the jolly Mrs. Christmas.

“How’s Diggory?” Fred asked.

“He’s fine. He’ll be back to his old self in no time.” She continued with her wrapping, tearing the sticky tape with just a little too much ferocity.

“Good. I’m glad he’s okay. It must have been scary—”

“Ryan’s not here,” Martha said in a clipped voice, cutting her off. “And I’m not sure I’d tell you where he was, even if I knew.”

“I know. I’ve come to see you.” As desperate as she was to sort things out with Ryan, she needed to know the reason for this gnawing feeling in her insides first.

Martha raised an eyebrow.

“I need you to tell me about Mum and Liam…” She left a beat. “If I’m going to sort out the mess I’ve made with Mum, I need to understand.”

She watched as Martha chewed the inside of her cheek, debating, assessing her.

“Please,” she implored her. “You’re her oldest and best friend.”

“Why don’t you ask your mum?” Martha tied a bow on the gift and pulled it tight.

Fred gulped. “Well, I can’t find her, and she won’t answer her phone. And even if she did, I don’t think she’d tell me everything. Not because I think she’s a liar but because she wants to protect me. I’m starting to get that now.”

“About time,” Martha retorted, snipping the ends off the bow with a large pair of scissors.

“I know.” Fred looked down at the floor. “Maybe if I understand the past, I can work on making us both happier in the future.”

Martha sighed and laid down the scissors. “I’ll put the kettle on. Flip the sign on the door round to closed, and then come on through.”

Fred did as she was told. Pushing through a heavy damask curtain behind the counter, she found herself in a small parlor with a table and three chairs, a sink and worktop area, and Welsh dressers on two walls.

She’d had many happy times sitting up at this table as a child with Ryan, drinking orange squash and eating biscuits.

Martha set down a teapot and a plate of shortbread and followed up with two mugs, then took a seat, motioning for Fred to do the same.

Martha poured them each a cup of tea.

“I’m sure you know all about how your mum ended up living with the aunts.”

“I know that she was abandoned by my father and disowned by my granddad,” Fred confirmed, and Martha nodded.