“Ah, but that was before she learned her daughter was carrying precious cargo,” Fin replied. “Cup of tea?”
As he left the room, I paused to consider his words. He seemed to have a knack of saying the nicest of things. I knew if my friend hadn’t told me, I’d never have guessed Fin was famous. Despite his Hollywood and UK connections, he didn’t show off or name-drop or expect everyone to run around after him as if he was entitled. From what I saw, he didn’t seem to have a do you know who I am bone in his body. I had no clue about the fortune, but Fin certainly had the fame, as well as the personality and good looks to go with it. I sighed, also picturing the calm, commanding and respected professional I’d just seen on TV. No one’s that perfect, surely? I had to ask, before joining him in the kitchen.
“You’ll never guess what I saw on my way back from Annie’s,” he said, as I sat at the table.
Taking in his sudden excitement, I guessed whatever it was had to be good.
“Only the most fantastic house ever.” He brought our drinks over, taking the seat opposite.
“Really?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
“Talk about Christmas light crazy, the whole exterior was covered.”
“On the way back from Annie’s, you say?” My heart sank.
“And it didn’t stop there. It had inflatable Santas and snowmen in the garden. There was even a giant sleigh on the roof.”
“Sounds like you got a good look,” I said, cringing.
“I certainly did.”
Oh, Lordy.
“It was fantastic.” Fin became more animated the more he talked. His hands gesticulated here, there, and everywhere as he described strings of icicles, flashing reindeer that appeared to dance, and a Father Christmas halfway down the chimney. “You couldn’t count the number of bulbs in use,” he said. “Thousands I’d say. I dread to think what the house’s electricity bill comes in at.” The man was clearly impressed. “And the number of people crowding outside, there had to be a charity box there somewhere.”
“Oh, there is.”
“So you know it?” Fin asked, evidently pleased to hear that.
I nodded. “Yes. I know it.”
“I suppose you’d have to be blind not to, hey. Isn’t it great?”
“It’s something all right,” I replied, not sure that was the word I’d have used to describe the house.
“And the commitment. Putting up those lights and taking them down has got to take, what? Six months?”
“At the very least.”
“Honestly.” Fin shook his head. “It’s mental.”
I picked up my tea and took a sip. “Isn’t it,” I said, unable to disagree. Knowing he was talking about Mum and Dad’s house, Fin might not have been able to miss the extensive Christmas regalia, but I thanked goodness for small mercies, at least he hadn’t clocked the car on their drive. A car so ugly and box-like they were bought and sold for next to nothing back in the day, on account of the more discerning driver preferring to be seen in something stylish.
“And what about the psyched-up Lada? What do you think that’s all about?” Fin asked.
My heart sank. That was a question I’d been asking for years.
While Fin laughed, I squirmed. Out of all the times I’d wished I could claim to be adopted, that moment was up there in the top ten.
I thought back to the day Dad brought the damn thing home. Russian made and sky blue in colour, it resembled more of an underwater tank than it did a roadworthy car. In fact, Dad often joked about us all being safe if we were ever shot at when out and about. Not the most attractive of vehicles to start with, my father had to make it worse by adding red and white “go-faster stripes” as he called them. Down each side and up the bonnet to the windscreen, with a paintbrush, as if that excuse for a family vehicle didn’t garner enough attention.
“As cars go, that one’s got to be a classic,” Fin continued. “If I hadn’t been in such a rush to get back, I’d have stopped to have a proper look.”
My ears pricked. “Why were you in a rush?” I asked, wondering what was so important. It wasn’t as if I’d given him a curfew.
“Sorry?”
“To get back?”
He smiled, looking at me direct. “To see you, of course.”
I came over all warm and fuzzy, at the same time telling myself not to take too much heed of Fin’s words. The man was a tease, nothing more, nothing less.
He picked up his cup and got to his feet. “More tea?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to the effect his jokes were having.
I shook my head as he headed for the kettle.
“Holly, look!” Fin said. Staring out of the kitchen window, he frantically waved me over.
I jumped up from my seat to join him. “It’s not Vee again, is it?” I asked, wondering what was going on out there.
Fin laughed. “Better than that. It’s snowing.”
As I stood at the window, I felt my face brighten at the sight. We both stared in awe as big fat snowflakes drifted from thick swollen clouds, the dense flurry covering rooftops, gardens, drystone walls and fields in a thick white blanket. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” I said, happy to relish the weather in all its wintery glory. I’d always loved snow, as long as I could enjoy it from the warm confines of home.
Fin turned to look at me, a big grin spreading across his face. “Fancy a walk?” he asked.
24
“But I don’t want to go out,” I said, imagining all the cold and wet Fin wanted to subject me to.
Refusing to take no for an answer, he stood in front of me, with my coat in one hand and a pair of my boots in the other.
“And besides that, I can’t leave the house. I’m supposed to be in the Caribbean remember?”
He continued to hold my things out ready for me to take.
“What if someone sees me?” I asked.
“They won’t.”
“They might,” I said, to no avail. “And what if word gets back to Mum and Dad?”
“It won’t.”
With Fin still not budging on the matter, I looked down at my attire. “I’m not even dressed. I can’t leave the house in my pyjamas.”
“Have you seen how dark it is out there?”
I raised my eyebrows, unable to believe he would even consider me prancing about the streets in my nightwear an option.
“See it as your civic responsibility,” he said, maintaining his stance. “To help out your fellow man.”
I sighed. If I could see the constitutional stretch in that, he could too.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve experienced proper snow?” he asked.
I sighed, feeling myself waiver. My shoulders dropped. “Now I know how Mum felt,” I said, recalling how I’d had an answer every time she pleaded with me not to go on holiday. “All right,” I said. “I’ll go for a walk.”
Fin’s face cracked into a smile.
“But I’m not going like this. You can at least let me get dressed.” Leaving him to celebrate his victory, I stomped upstairs to get changed. I could feel the man’s eyes on me as I went, readily imagining him craning his neck to ensure I wasn’t about to lock myself in the bathroom. As tempting as that might have been, I headed straight to my wardrobe and pulled out a pair of jeans, before grabbing a T-shirt and a jumper from my chest of drawers. I grumbled to myself as I changed clothes, unable to help but envisage the tropical sunset that I was meant to be enjoying that evening. “This could not be any more different,” I said, pulling on a pair of thick woolly socks.