Christmas In Bluebell Cove. Abigail Gordon

her foot on the bottom step of the stairs he was about to remind her of that fact by calling, ‘The clean sheets are where they always were, though not as immaculately laundered maybe.’

      As she lay sleepless between the sheets that he’d described she heard voices and laughter outside the window. In the next moment the beautiful words of a well-known Christmas carol were being sung and tears threatened again.

      It was as if the fates were reminding her of what she’d thrown away by bringing to her notice every aspect of the enchantment of Bluebell Cove at Christmas. So far there’d been the dancing through the village, a Christmas wedding and now the carol singers.

      In the middle of the night she could smell the turkey cooking quite strongly and wondered if the oven setting was too high. On impulse she crept downstairs in her nightdress to check on it.

      It was a mistake. When she opened the kitchen door Ethan was there, basting the turkey. She turned to make a swift exit but he’d seen her and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Er, nothing,’ she said hurriedly, ‘I just thought that it might be cooking too quickly.’

      ‘I see,’ he said evenly. ‘Well, you can sleep easy as I’ve just turned the heat down, so go back to bed, Francine. Remember you’re visiting. I’m in charge.’

      She turned and went back up the stairs with the message crystal clear that she had overstepped the mark by butting into their Christmas.

      ‘I’m in the way, aren’t I?’ she said the next morning while the children were opening their presents. ‘I’ll go as soon as there is a flight. There should be some on Boxing Day.’

      ‘I thought you came because you wanted to be with Kirstie and Ben over Christmas and New Year,’ he said levelly. ‘There is no rush as far as I’m concerned. Just don’t get any ideas about taking over now that you’re here. As I told you last night, I’m in charge. I’ve had to be whether I wanted to or not.’

      As he watched the colour drain from her face he was ashamed for letting his hurt manifest itself so clearly. Whatever Francine did, he would never stop loving her. He’d been just as inflexible in what he saw as his priorities as she’d been in hers when their difference of opinions had started to take a stranglehold on their marriage, so at least he should be civil.

      At that moment Ben came dashing in, carrying the sledge that had been one of his father’s presents to him. ‘It’s great, Dad!’ he said. ‘Can I go and try it out?’

      ‘Yes, take Kirstie with you?’ he told him. ‘She’ll want to have a try.’

      ‘Not now she won’t. She’s too excited by what Maman has brought for her.’

      ‘And what might that be?’ Ethan asked.

      ‘Fancy boots and a necklace.’ He turned to his mother, ‘The telescope is great, Maman.’

      ‘And so are both of you, my darlings,’ she said softly as he went chasing off to try the sledge.

      At that moment Kirstie appeared, still in her pyjamas and wearing the boots and necklace. They smiled at the vision she presented and it was almost like old times for a moment.

      Francine had come down to breakfast in a robe and slippers, not wanting to miss the children opening their presents, and now, with the memory of having been made to feel surplus and in the way, she went back upstairs to get showered and changed.

      It was a strange sort of day, alternating between happy moments with the children and long silences when Ethan and she were alone. She’d noted that the turkey was cooked to perfection and wished she’d not interfered the previous night, and in keeping with her general feeling of being in the way broke the silence between them at one point to ask, ‘Have you invited anyone round for Christmas dinner?’

      ‘Such as?’ he asked with dark brows rising.

      ‘Er, Phoebe and her baby perhaps?’

      ‘Phoebe Howard. Why would I do that? She does have family to be with, you know.’

      ‘She was your partner when everyone was dancing through the village.’

      ‘So? I had to find someone, and as she’s been to see me at the surgery with depression a few times I thought it might cheer her up if I asked her to join me.’

      ‘Ah! That is what Ben must have meant when he said you made him dance with Kirstie because you wanted to partner Phoebe.’

      She saw his jaw line tighten and when he spoke again his voice was even colder than it had been in the kitchen in the middle of the night. ‘Do you honestly think I would consider replacing you after so short a time?’ he said. ‘I valued our marriage more than anything on earth—you were the one to cast it aside like an old shoe.’

      ‘Surely you see there was more to it than that, Ethan,’ she reminded him in a low voice. ‘Our differences of opinion were too big to ignore, and now that I’m here will you please let me help with whatever has to be done instead of shutting me out.’

      ‘All right.’ he agreed sombrely. ‘We’re both of the opinion that we don’t want to spoil the children’s Christmas so maybe it is best that you do help out.’

      ‘Thanks for that, and I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusions about you and Phoebe. It was just that I thought you deserved someone special to fill the gap I’ve left and that she might be it.’

      He didn’t reply. If he had done he would have told her that the gap she referred to would never be filled…that he didn’t want patronising. He knew what he deserved and it was her, back in his life where she belonged. But it was too late for that. The marriage would soon be over. The solicitor’s letter amongst the Christmas mail had confirmed that the divorce proceedings were progressing satisfactorily.

      When she came downstairs later she was holding a gift-wrapped parcel and offering it to him said, ‘I didn’t want to give you this earlier as I was concerned that the children’s excitement might be spoiled if you refused to accept it.’

      ‘But it’s all right if I refuse it now, is it?’ he enquired quizzically.

      ‘I’d rather you didn’t, but it’s up to you,’ she said, and went back upstairs with the feeling that she’d made things worse again.

      Yet there was light in the darkness. Shortly afterwards he came up after her, wearing the cashmere sweater she’d bought for him in Paris and been doubtful she would ever see him in it, and announced, ‘If you look in the top drawer of the dressing table in the master bedroom you’ll find a belated birthday gift and something for Christmas that have been waiting for you to show up, so that you might receive them in a less impersonal way than in the mail.’

      ‘And you can’t be bothered to give them to me personally?’ she asked as a lump came up in her throat.

      ‘Why, Francine? Would you want me to?’ he asked gravely, and thought he was punishing her again because even in the present circumstances to have her beside him in the flesh was bringing joy to his soul.

      ‘Yes, so either that or leave them where they are,’ she replied, and went to gaze out of the bedroom window.

      When she turned she could hear him going back downstairs and when next she saw him he had his cook’s apron over the sweater and was preparing to serve soup and a sandwich for lunch to appease their appetites until the main meal in the evening.