I felt my cheeks redden. Having half hoped and half expected him to run for the hills at such a prospect, I was surprised to find he quite liked the idea.
“Dig in,” he said, indicating I should eat.
Doing as requested, I realised I had no other choice than to accept the situation and I told myself if he didn’t have a problem with gossip, then I shouldn’t either. He was the TV star and had more of a reputation to lose than I did. If anything, I garnered a bit of kudos out of the situation. Besides, real life could be boring, I asserted. So what if people thought I was partaking in a histoire d’amour with a man celebrated for his cooking?
My heart sank. Who was I kidding?
Imagining the tittle-tattle, my enthusiasm began to wane. Recalling past events in the village, I didn’t think I’d ever forget the spotlight old Mrs Harper found herself under when her husband died. The locals weren’t always kind with their words, despite everyone knowing the woman had wanted that new patio of hers for ages.
“It’s all right for you,” I said. “I still have to live here after you’ve gone.”
I fell quiet, wondering why Fin hadn’t revealed his identity. Did he miss having anonymity and was enjoying the chance to be himself for a while? Did he have trust issues? The latter being a bit rich considering I’d blindly given him a bed.
Pushing my food around, I snuck a look at him, aware that the man’s behaviour was no different now than it had been that morning and I scolded myself for thinking his fame changed things. Since landing, Fin had been nothing but thoughtful, valuing the fact that I hadn’t claimed there was no room at the inn and that he’d have to go and find himself a Christmas stable. And it wasn’t as if I’d been totally honest with him either. I hadn’t shown him the cookbook and faced him with his stardom; I’d kept it to myself, just like he had. Feeling like a hypocrite, I took a deep breath. “I have a confession to make,” I said.
“Really?”
“I haven’t been totally upfront.”
Fin put his fork down, giving me his full attention. Gone was the man’s confidence, Fin looked nervous, scared even, as if he knew I was about to out him as the world-class chef he evidently was.
His expression made me feel selfish. Questioning who opening my mouth benefited, I realised it wasn’t my place to out him of anything. “I don’t remember inviting you to stay,” I said, instead.
Fin’s mien relaxed; his relief palpable.
“I did, of course. Invite you, I mean. To help Annie out. I just didn’t know that when you turned up. I’ve got amnesia, you see, after drinking too much. Which is what can happen when someone drowns their sorrows. But you’re still welcome to stay. Until Annie’s spare room becomes vacant again.” I knew I was rambling, one of the things that happened when I fibbed. “If you want to, that is.”
“So, you let a random stranger into your house without knowing anything about them?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You’re one special lady,” Fin said.
A part of me hoped he’d follow my lead and own up to his secret. But it was clear he had no intentions of confiding in me about anything. I was disappointed, wondering why he didn’t trust me, when I’d just put myself at risk of him thinking I had a drink problem. On top of trusting him enough to let him into my home, I hastened to add. I recalled the chair I’d wedged under my door. Well, I’d sort of trusted him.
“I meant to ring Annie today actually,” he said, moving the conversation on. “To find out what’s happening with Emma. I got sidetracked with emails and organising work stuff though, so never got around to it.”
With Fin staying schtum, I knew I had no option but to go with the flow and two days from then, Fin would be a thing of the past anyway. “There isn’t much to tell apparently,” I replied. “Although Annie assures me you’ll be able to move into hers in a couple of days.”
“Assures you, you say. Should I be offended?”
I let out a chuckle, realising how that must have sounded, and considering his fame, I wondered how many people dared speak to him that way. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Fin smiled in return, looking me straight in the eye and unable to translate his expression, I felt myself blush. “You need to do that more often,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“Laugh.”
Deciding I didn’t care who the man was one way or the other, I stuck my tongue out at him in response. If Fin wanted a slice of ordinary life with ordinary people, then he could have it. I dug my fork into my dinner and scooped up a mound of shepherd’s pie. “This is delicious,” I said, my appetite back.
“So why the need to drown your sorrows? If you don’t mind me asking?” he said.
I thought about the previous few months and the awful time I’d had thanks to Jeremy. And as much as there were aspects of Fin’s life that he didn’t want to share with me, I realised that there were parts of mine that I preferred to keep to myself too. “I was meant to be going away for Christmas.”
“Annie told me. To the Caribbean, no less.”
“It was cancelled on me. Last minute.”
“Ouch!”
“I know.”
“So what will you do?”
Having not had the chance to think about it, I still wasn’t sure. “Suck it up, I guess. It’s not as if I’ll get in anywhere else at this late stage.”
“No family to go to?”
I nodded. “Yes, but I was hoping to give them a miss.” It would have been easy to say sod it, I would spend the day at Mum and Dad’s like always. Mum especially would have loved that. But while, as solutions went, doing a U-turn was great in the short term, it was nowhere near the right thing in the long. Trying to get Mum used to the idea of me not being around that year had been tough enough and should another opportunity to do something different one Christmas further down the line arise, the last thing I wanted was to go through the whole rigmarole again. Which is what I knew would happen if I didn’t see some alternative plan through.
“If it helps ease the blow, Christmas on your own isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Believe me, I know. There have been times when I’d have given anything to be able to do the whole family thing.”
I recalled Annie describing his parents as aloof, at the same time telling me Fin was an only child. I couldn’t help but think he must have had a lonely childhood and picturing him as a little boy, I felt sad for the man. “Yes, well,” I said. “You haven’t met my lot, have you?”
He smiled. “For what it’s worth, if you don’t know what to do, my advice is don’t do anything.”
Continuing to eat, I mulled over his words, before jolting up in my seat. Suddenly alert, a spark of an idea formed in my head. “I think you’ve hit on something there,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
I began to feel excited. “Well only you and Annie know my holiday isn’t going ahead, right? If the three of us keep it that way, I can just stay here. I can hibernate for the duration.”
Fin laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about in the interim. Until you figure things out.”