Christmas at Hope Cottage: A Magical Feel-Good Romance Novel(5)

Suze had done a double-take when Emma introduced Pete as her boyfriend.

‘My God, Em, you dark horse, the way you always spoke about him – I just thought he was your brother!’ She laughed, flicking back her long blonde hair, eyeing him with an admiring smile.

When Suze left, Emma had dismissed the comment as silly and thought no more of it – but clearly, Pete hadn’t. He’d chewed on it for hours, in his quiet, contemplative way, mulling it over and over. She’d found him sitting in the dark in the early hours of the morning and when she asked him what was wrong, he’d just said, ‘That’s not normal, Em, people thinking that, that I’m your brother.’

She’d scoffed – a mistake, she realised later. ‘You aren’t upset about that still?’

He’d looked at her with hurt eyes.

‘She’s a twit, honestly, I hardly know her. I’ve spoken about you, of course, but not that much, I don’t know why she got that impression, but please don’t take it seriously.’

But he did. After that it was like he looked at their whole relationship differently and what he saw seemed to prove Suze right, no matter how strongly she argued against it. The trouble was that theirs had never been a passionate relationship, but it was based on something much better, or so she had thought – friendship. He might not have been exciting, but then, after a lifetime of excitement provided by her crazy family and previous relationship with Jack, that had been a relief.

‘He was very upset when I phoned him,’ said Evie now. Emma did a double-take as she snapped back to the present. ‘You phoned Pete? When?’

‘It was the day I arrived at the hospital, a week ago, just wanted to let him know what happened. He felt terrible when he heard, felt responsible I suppose.’

Emma sighed. ‘The accident wasn’t his fault. Well, not technically.’ If it was the fault of any one thing, as far as Emma was concerned, it was The Book – though she knew, logically, that didn’t really make sense, and she would never say it out loud, not because Evie wouldn’t believe her but because there was every chance that she would.

At Evie’s frown, she explained how she’d decided to get out of the flat after she’d found the break-up Post-it, which was when the postal van knocked her down. ‘It was just bad luck, really.’

Evie, however, had really only heard one thing. She was looking at her incredulously, her blue eyes amused.

‘He broke up with you on a Post-it note?’ Her lips started to twitch.

‘Don’t. It was actually very sad,’ Emma said, though she felt a sudden mad urge to laugh as well.

‘Oh? I’m sure it was very heartfelt. What did it say? Let me guess – something like this: “To do: Pop into Tesco for gluten-free bread – no more gyppy tummy for me. Buy some exciting new slacks, think maybe – gasp – brown, do I chance it? Yes Pete, yes you can! Also. Break up with Emma?”’

Emma laughed. ‘No, but he did add a postscript that said I was out of washing powder.’

Evie pressed her knuckles to her lips, her shoulders shaking as she tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle. ‘Sorry!’ she gasped as her raspy laugh echoed against the stone walls. There were tears leaking out of her eyes.

Emma bit her lip, trying not to giggle too. ‘No, don’t, he’s – well, he’s really nice when he’s not breaking up with someone on Post-it notes.’

‘Yeah, especially on laundry day, that’s for sure.’

‘Stop it,’ Emma giggled, and then frowned. ‘When you told him, didn’t he want to come see me?’ She couldn’t help feeling hurt by that.

‘Course he did, love. But I told him it would probably be for the best not to as I was taking you home – and well, seeing you like this might have meant…’

‘That we’d get back together.’ Emma couldn’t help wishing that he had decided to take that risk. Her shoulders slumped. The worst part was that he didn’t even want to speak to her, even now.

‘He said that I wasn’t in love with him.’ Emma hadn’t meant to tell Evie that, it simply slipped out.

Evie looked at her, didn’t say anything for a while, then, ‘Maybe it’s for the best, love?’

Emma looked away. Best for who? Not her, surely? ‘It isn’t true, you know. I do love him.’

Evie touched her shoulder. ‘Aye love, we all know you care for him.’

At Emma’s sharp look, she added, ‘A lot, but – but it’s not the same as real love, is it?’

Emma closed her eyes. A tear tracked down her cheek. What she knew about ‘real love’ was that it ripped you in two, made you give up everything, including the only home you’d ever known, just to get away from it. This, the version she’d had with Pete, at least as far as she was concerned, had been so much better.

‘You look exhausted,’ said Evie, smoothing back her hair.

‘I feel it,’ she said, with a sigh. Exhaustion had become her constant companion since the accident.

‘Why don’t you have a lie-down?’

Emma nodded. A lie-down sounded like exactly what she needed.



* * *



Three days later, and all Emma had done really since she arrived at Hope Cottage was sleep. She felt like a puzzle that had been put together wrong, the pieces jammed together at odd angles to create an odd, almost cubist version of the person who was once Emma Halloway.