Christmas at Butterfly Cove: A delightfully feel-good festive romance!. Sarah Bennett

was only as she grew older that Nee became aware of the extent of her mother’s drinking, and the excitement of opening presents was overtaken by waiting with trepidation for the first morning sherry to be poured. She’d begun to rebel against it at twelve, becoming the catalyst which would shatter the pretence. At fifteen, she’d refused flat-out to participate, not knowing it would turn out to be the last Christmas they would all be under the same roof. A year later, Kiki and Mia were both married and making their own homes, leaving Nee caught in the spiralling tragedy of her parents’ unhappiness.

      Angry. She’d been so angry with them both for as long as she could remember. Looking at George now, a grey shadow of his former self, face lined with the pain of all those years, she let it go. However bad things had been for her, how much worse must it have been for him, for him and Vivian both, to have spent thirty years tied to someone you loved, but couldn’t make happy.

      She hoped this year he would find some peace, and spending time at Butterfly Cove with everyone might be just the thing to bring it to him. Just a shame she wouldn’t be there to witness it. She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about it, because then she’d start thinking about the reason why she wouldn’t be there, why she couldn’t be there. Luke. ‘Come on, Dad, let’s eat.’

      Feeling stronger after the hearty stew and a decent night’s sleep, Nee decided to seize the bull by the horns and visit her mother after breakfast the next morning. George had offered to accompany her, but she couldn’t be sure of her reaction and didn’t want to risk the fragile peace they’d begun to build. She’d left him with a cup of tea in his study to continue working on the stories for Matty.

      Although her father had tried to prepare her for the changes in Vivian, her first sight of the birdlike figure lost in the harsh whiteness of the bed stole Nee’s breath. Strands of wispy, almost-colourless hair straggled around her mother’s face. The knotted hanks were so far from the gleaming coiffure of her memories that she knew little of the woman she’d known remained. Making her way quietly into the room, Nee noted the potted plants and bright accessories scattered around, and felt a quiet appreciation for the owners of the home for trying to minimise the institutional feel of the place.

      The bed, though, was like those found in every kind of hospital. They’d positioned it where Vivian could look out of the window to the gardens below, although whether she had any awareness of the view remained to be seen. Memories flooded her mind of all the times she’d seen her mother supine on the couch beneath the window of her bedroom at home. The picture of delicate, ethereal beauty, almost professionally weak and wan. Helplessness had always been Vivian’s stock-in-trade – a damsel in distress, unable to cope with the pressures of life. That façade had fooled many, but not Nee. She remembered too clearly the cynical glitter in her mother’s eye as she twisted poor Kiki round her little finger.

      A ghost of the anger she’d nurtured for so long against her parents began to stir in her stomach. If either one of them had faced up to the basic realities of life, then it wouldn’t have been left to Mia to try and raise a baby sister when she’d been little more than a child herself. Kiki, too, had done her best for Nee, offering every ounce of love in that big heart of hers to ensure she never lacked for affection. She clasped a hand over her stomach to try and settle the beast stirring within. Sometimes it felt like she’d been angry for ever.

      The tempest of emotions had served her well in the past, bringing a fire and passion to her earliest artwork that caught the attention of teachers and, later, college tutors. Feed the fire, they’d urged her, so she’d tapped the well and poured it forth into every line drawn, every handful of clay moulded. She developed a reputation for dark, brooding pieces and the juxtaposition with her sweet, elfin appearance had intrigued more than one patron. Whispers had rippled through the art world of a bold, bright new star-in-the-making and she’d been encouraged to dream big.

      Her dreams had crystallised into the ultimate goal for a young sculptor – a chance to study under the tutelage of Devin Rees, the mercurial, undisputed master of their medium. Even applying for a place at the Reinhold Institute had seemed like the ultimate act of hubris, and when her submission had gone unanswered for months, Nee had shrugged it off. London was more than good enough for her, and she’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into the trendy art scene, determined to make her mark. She’d found a group of like-minded souls, and had been out celebrating a friend getting signed by an agent when a fallen angel with the devil’s smile walked into her life.

      She hadn’t known it was possible to be so happy. Luke filled every dark and lonely place inside her with a passion so raw, so intense, it consumed her every waking moment. Finding out how much she’d missed out on as a child, he’d made it his mission to spoil her. A trip on the London Eye, a magical sunset safari tour at the zoo, where they’d ridden the kiddies’ train and eaten huge whippy ice-cream cones, lying back in the Planetarium as they travelled through space and time. So many cherished memories crammed into a couple of magical months.

      He’d taken her to his favourite place—the beautiful garden created in the magnificent ruins of St Dunstan’s in the East—and when he’d dropped to one knee in the shadowed corner beneath an elegant stone arch wrapped in vines, the only word on her lips had been yes. Drunk on champagne, love and the euphoria of becoming Mrs Luke Spenser, she’d believed herself satisfied with the path her life had taken.

      Then the email with a plane ticket and an eight-hour deadline had arrived.

Chapter Four

      Having moped around his flat for a couple of days, it had been on the tip of Luke’s tongue to refuse Kiki’s invitation when she called him about Aaron’s ‘surprise’ party. She’d confessed the adults all knew Charlie had let the cat out of the bag, but the children were so excited about the prospect, they’d agreed to keep up the pretence. Much as he might have liked to see the growing bonds in his brother’s new family, he hadn’t wanted his presence to be a wet blanket.

      Poised to decline, his words froze on his lips when Kiki said quietly, ‘He misses you, Luke. We all miss you. Please come.’

      Once he’d agreed to attend the party, there was no getting around the fact he would be coming face to face with Nee again. Aaron had been right; they needed to resolve things between them. For the sake of both their families. He had two choices – forgive her, or let her go for good. Leaving him had been a mistake; she’d said as much during their brief, anguished exchange at the wedding. He’d already admitted to himself he still wanted her, had spent the last twelve months waiting for a call, an email, anything from her and then let his bloody pride get in the way. If she thought it was a mistake, that meant she wanted to try again, didn’t it? God, he hoped so.

      Feeling lighter and more hopeful than he had in weeks, not even the rain lashing the small platform at Orcombe Sands station could dampen his mood. Hunching down into his thick jacket to try and avoid letting the rain inside his collar, Luke shouldered his bag and splashed across the small gravel car park towards a familiar blue hatchback. Tugging open the back door to throw in his bag, he stopped short as a mournful howl greeted him from the small plastic crate on the seat. He ducked his head into the car and met Kiki’s worried brown eyes as she stared at him over her shoulder. ‘Who’s your friend?’

      ‘This is Tigger. He’s Aaron’s birthday present from the children.’

      A tiny, pink-tipped nose poked out through the bars in the front of the crate, and Luke forgot the rain soaking his back as he started to laugh. ‘You’ve bought him a dog?’

      Kiki shook her head, a look of despair on her face. ‘Don’t. Just don’t. I can’t believe I let the kids talk me into it.’ She cringed as another heart-wrenching noise split the air. ‘He’s been like that since I picked him up half an hour ago. I was supposed to collect him tomorrow, but the shelter’s short-staffed so they asked if I could do it this afternoon because Saturday is always their busiest viewing day.’

      ‘Poor fella, he’s probably scared.’ Luke dumped his bag on the far side of the back seat, then unhooked the catch securing the crate closed.