He must have been listening out for me, as he had the front door open almost before I got out of the car.
“Come in, come in. Did you have a good journey?”
Something about his polite enquiries reminded me we were virtually strangers. Had it been a mistake to rush over here like this? What did I know about Jaimie after all? Not much, really. And here I was, spending what was left of Christmas Day with him. It wasn’t the kind of rash thing I normally did.
“Welcome to my humble abode. Can I get you a coffee? Something stronger? I’ve got wine I can mull somewhere. Or a bottle of cava I can put into the freezer for a fast chill. Or perhaps you want a snack after all that driving?”
Perversely, Jaimie’s nervous chatter relaxed me. It wasn’t as if I’d driven across three counties to meet an axe murderer. This was Jaimie—Coleslaw Crash Jaimie. And he really was rather sweet with all that curly hair and his little-boy-lost expression.
“A coffee would be lovely,” I said, taking my coat off. “But no snack, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
“Okay, I’ll pop the kettle on. Do make yourself at home while I make it.”
He went off to the kitchen, and I wandered through the door he indicated, finding myself in a sitting room dominated by the biggest Christmas tree I’d ever seen in an indoor setting. It was so huge, it must have been an almost impossible task to get it into the house, and I wondered who’d helped him do it. The tree was festooned with decorations. When I went to take a closer look, I saw that many of them had been made by children—presumably, his girls. The fingerprinted paint and clumsily applied glitter were somehow very poignant. My gaze travelled upwards to where a fairy doll with weirdly staring eyes was crammed on the top of the tree, her tiara almost brushing the ceiling. In addition to a wand grasped in her outstretched hand, ready to create magic, there were angel wings, crafted out of what looked like a silver doily, attached to her back.
Beneath the tree, stacks of presents were waiting to be opened—piles and piles of them, all beautifully wrapped in gold-and-silver paper with elaborately tied red bows. No magic the tree fairy could wield would make their intended recipients able to open them until tomorrow, though.
Jaimie came in with the coffee and caught me looking.
I smiled. “Your girls will be so excited when they arrive.”
He pulled a face. “Hopefully. Although I guess it could all be a bit of an anticlimax, as they’ve already done all that today.”
“How could it be an anticlimax? Look at all that treasure.”
He put the mugs down on the coffee table, smiling ruefully. “I have gone a bit overboard, I suppose. But they took so many of their toys with them to Harriet’s new house.”
There were dark smudges beneath his hazel eyes. I wondered what the rest of the day must have been like for him, waking up alone in an empty house when he was probably used to his daughters leaping onto his bed at some ungodly hour, desperate to start the day.
“What time are they arriving tomorrow?”
“About nine o’clock.” He smiled apologetically. “I’d ask you to stay and meet them, but, well, at the moment they don’t know anything about you.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t expect that. Don’t worry; I’ll be out of your hair by then. I can even go home this evening if that’s best.”
Jaimie smiled, reaching out to stroke my cheek—an intimate gesture which created a ripple of instant reaction through my body. “I’d much rather you stayed and we set the alarm clock,” he said, and the next moment we were kissing.
It was ages since I’d kissed anybody properly. Turns out you don’t forget how to do it. Within seconds the temperature had risen by about a billion degrees.
“Would you care for a tour of the first floor?” It probably ought to have sounded cheesy, but the tremor in Jaimie’s voice was a clue that he hadn’t made love to anyone since his split from his wife.
“Yes, please,” I said, and he took me by the hand and led me straight upstairs.
The tour started and ended in his bedroom. I laughed as we fell back together onto his bed, but then he was kissing me and stroking my breasts through my dress, and things got intense very quickly. In no time at all, we were tearing at each other’s clothing. Five breathless minutes after that, we were both crying out.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” said Jaimie after a moment, sounding mortified. “That was so rushed, I expect your coffee’s still warm. Do you want me to go and get it for you?”
I caught his eye, and we both burst out laughing. “It wasn’t rushed,” I said. “It was hot. And you can make me another coffee later—after we do that all over again.”
We got under the covers, and this time we took our time, smoothing, stroking, tasting, exploring. It was all utterly delicious, especially after the exhausting roller coaster of a day I’d had. So I suppose it was no surprise that I fell asleep afterwards.
When I woke up, I was alone. I didn’t remember where I was straightaway. The room was completely dark except for a strip of light coming in through the half-open door. Then I became aware of the liquid feeling pervading my entire body and remembered everything. Jaimie. I was at Jaimie’s house, in Jaimie’s bed. We had just made the most amazing love, despite our slightly unpromising first foray, and now Jaimie must be downstairs, waiting for me to wake up. So why did I feel so sad? This was all good, wasn’t it? Good sex? A fresh beginning with a nice man? A break from the Christmas patterns of almost a lifetime?
I wanted it to be good. It was just that Grace’s unkind words kept swimming round my brain. Presumably, you don’t see yourself turning up here for Christmas every year until Sylvia and Richard pass away? And I couldn’t stop seeing Mark’s arm around Grace’s shoulders. The little loving glances they’d given each other as they exchanged gifts.
Oh God.
Quickly, I swung my legs out of bed, looking for a dressing gown or something to slip on. But there was nothing—the peg on the back of the door was empty. I found the light switch and foraged for my torn-off clothes. Then I made my way downstairs and into the sitting room, where I found Jaimie sitting stark naked on the sofa watching It’s a Wonderful Life on TV.
“Hello, you,” he said, sounding completely unembarrassed. “I thought I’d let you sleep. You looked as if you needed it. Are you ready for that snack now? I was just going to make myself a sandwich. And there’s a bottle of cava chilling.”
Jaimie’s penis bobbed up and down as he headed for the kitchen. His complete lack of self-consciousness was somehow alarming, making me feel as if I were the smutty one, wearing clothes. And I couldn’t help but stare at him, like a rabbit caught in the proverbial headlights.
“Are you admiring my suntan?” Jaimie asked.
I nodded mutely. His suntan, yes, that was what I was looking at. Not.
“I took the girls to Greece during October half term. We were really lucky with the weather. And, of course, I top it up any chance I get. I expect Grace told you I’m a naturist?”
Grace’s parting quip about Jaimie’s “hobby” flooded back. No wonder she’d looked as if she wanted to die laughing.