Five Winters(5)

I was so busy feeling sorry for Jaimie, I completely missed Mark heading in our direction. By the time I noticed him, it was too late to make my escape.

“Hello, you,” said Rosie, kissing his cheek. “How’s married life?”

Mark grinned, kissing her back. “So far, I can thoroughly recommend it.”

After Rosie, it was my turn for a hug. “Congratulations,” I said, hoping he was far too high on endorphins to notice anything stilted about my overbright voice.

He smiled at me. “Thanks, Beth. This is great, isn’t it? I’m so glad we didn’t opt for a formal sit-down meal. It’s much better for everyone to mingle. Hey, Jaimie, have you met my sister, Rosie, and her friend Beth?”

My fellow sufferer pushed his heartbreak aside and rearranged his face to suit the occasion. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Beth but not Rosie,” he said, coming over.

I watched Rosie size Jaimie up as she shook his hand. Would she have gone after him if it weren’t for Giorgio? Possibly. Although she’d have made a swift exit if I was right about his having children. Rosie had never wanted children, so I didn’t suppose she’d be keen on being a stepmother either.

“Jaimie’s a property developer,” he told Rosie. “You’ll have to do a house up for me and Grace someday.”

“Willingly. If you ever manage to uproot Grace from her apartment. She does love that place.”

“Well,” said Mark, “I can see why. It has great views of the city.”

“What is this?” Rosie teased. “An estate agents’ convention?”

Suddenly, I pictured Mark’s flat, a stone’s throw from the football stadium. Strange to think I’d never hang out there with him and Rosie on Saturday afternoons again, with the walls practically shaking from the fans’ cheers every time the home side scored.

“Well, listen,” Mark said, “the band will be starting up again soon. I’d better find my bride for another dance.”

Rosie shook her head as he left. “This is the same guy who scribbled on my Barbie Bride doll with his marker pens.”

“When was this?” Jaimie asked.

Rosie smirked. “A year or so ago?”

I shook my head at her, telling Jaimie, “He was seven.”

Rosie shrugged, as if seven and thirty-seven were much the same thing, hitching her bag onto her shoulder. “I’ve got to make a phone call. See you kids later.”

And then it was just me and Jaimie, alone together as the band started up—loud and relentlessly cheerful. Suddenly I couldn’t bear it. I put down my plate of uneaten vol-au-vents.

“Look, d’you fancy going to the other bar to get a drink?”

Relief flooded Jaimie’s face. “Yes, let’s.”

I had a gin and tonic. He had a nonalcoholic beer. “I live in Cambridgeshire,” he explained. “I have to drive back tonight. I’ve got my daughters tomorrow.”

Ah, so I was right.

“How old are they?”

“Emily’s seven, and Olivia is five.”

“Have you got any photos?”

Jaimie smiled, reaching into his breast pocket for his phone. “You know your way to a man’s heart, Beth Bailey.”

He showed me a photo of two dark-haired girls saying cheese to the camera, the younger one sporting two missing front teeth.

“They look adorable,” I said, handing the phone back to him.

Jaimie looked at the image for a long moment. “They are. Well, most of the time. All children are horrors sometimes. But I wouldn’t change a thing about them. This is the first year I won’t get to see them on Christmas Day. Harriet—that’s their mother—and I agreed to take turns. I’ve got them next year. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to get through it.”

I didn’t know what to say. I mean, what can you say? And I felt exactly the same way he did about Christmas this year, even if it was for different reasons. So I reached out and squeezed his hand.

Jaimie put his phone back into his pocket and curled his fingers through mine. “Hark at me, Mr. Celebration himself.”

“It’s good you don’t feel you have to hide how you feel.”

“Is it?”

“Of course.”

“You know, I rather like you.”

I smiled. “I like you too.”

By the time Jaimie left just before eleven o’clock, we’d exchanged numbers and agreed to try and meet again before Christmas. He’d even casually extended an invitation for me to spend Christmas Day with him.

“Only if you haven’t any other plans,” he said, panicking almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “But of course you have. I’m an idiot.”

“I have, yes. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. We’ve only known each other for five minutes.”

I smiled at him. “They’ve been a very nice five minutes, though.”

He grinned. “They have, haven’t they? I’m glad I came today. I almost didn’t.”

“I’m glad you did too.” I was. Talking to Jaimie had made the evening about 100 percent more bearable.

With Jaimie gone, I was more than ready to leave myself. If I hung around here any longer, my mask was bound to slip. But the trouble with having a surrogate family who loves you as if you’re their own is that you can’t just sidle off without saying goodbye. You have to hug and kiss them all. Make promises to phone soon. Even if the person you’ve been trying to avoid all night is right in their midst.