they both felt about it, separating from Steve had been the right decision.
Taking a fortifying sip of her wine, she turned her attention back to Tim, catching a look of sympathy on his face which told her he knew what she’d been thinking about. She couldn’t deal with any kindness right now; it would only lead to tears. A distraction was needed. ‘Charlie was telling me yesterday that you guys are looking to book a late break, have you got anywhere in mind?’
Tim pulled a face. ‘I was hoping for somewhere in the sun, but after his lunch with Tristan earlier Charlie is obsessed with going up to Derbyshire for Christmas. Did you know he lives in a castle? A proper turrets and drawbridge castle.’ He reached for the phone resting next to his glass, fiddled with it for a few seconds and then handed it across to her. ‘I thought Charlie was joking until I googled it.’
Jess stared at the screen, unable to believe what she was seeing. She’d always known Tristan came from a background of privilege, but she’d assumed he was joking from the dismissive way he’d told her he’d grown up in a castle. A big house – bigger certainly than the standard suburban three-bed semi she and Marcus had been raised in by their parents – but Tim was right. It had turrets.
Fascinated, she began to scroll through the website, found a link and clicked on the blog. She recognised Tristan’s breezy writing style in the updates. He’d always been a whizz at producing press releases that didn’t sound like hard-sell marketing, even if that’s exactly what they were. The top story talked about plans for a traditional Christmas and how the family hoped to be able to share it with a few new friends. It sounded so inviting, like an intimate house party rather than a hotel break. She might be tempted herself had common sense not told her it would be way outside her price bracket. Although once Steve started his course and they were down to one income, a weekend at Butlins would be outside her price bracket. ‘It looks glorious,’ she said on a wistful sigh.
He shuddered. ‘It snows up there.’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘It snows down here too, sometimes.’
‘Not like they get up there. Can you see me wading through the drifts? No, thank you.’
‘You can stay in, cosy by the fire. God, look at this!’ She passed the phone back to Tim, showing him a picture of a roaring fire in the biggest fireplace she’d ever seen. A gorgeous pair of brindle greyhounds were curled up before it, and a thick swag of greenery decorated the high mantel.
‘Mmm, now that is something I could get on board with,’ Tim mused. ‘A nice glass of port, a Kindle full of books.’ He leaned forward to call down the table to Charlie. ‘Derbyshire is a go!’
A hand landed on Tim’s shoulder and Jess looked up to meet a twinkly pair of brown eyes. Her stomach did that ridiculous little flip thing it did every time she saw Tristan. Even when she and Steve had been happy, had been in love and looking forward to growing old together, she’d always had this visceral reaction to Tristan. ‘Now that’s music to my ears,’ Tristan was saying as he eased himself into a chair someone had vacated for him. ‘I thought I was going to have to give you the hard sell.’
‘You can thank Jess. She’s the one who showed me this.’ He held up the fireplace image to Tristan. ‘This is the real deal, right? Not creative marketing?’
‘Every picture on the website is a genuine image of somewhere on the estate,’ he assured Tim as he offered a smile of thanks to a co-worker who’d placed a pint in front of him. Raising it, he toasted the table. ‘Well, cheers to you all. I wasn’t expecting to have the chance to see everyone on this flying visit so it’s a real bonus.’
‘Cheers!’ Jess joined in with everyone sitting close enough as they clinked glasses. ‘I’m really pleased you could make it.’
‘Me too.’ His expression grew serious for a moment as he spoke in an undertone. ‘Everything all right?’
Oh. He knew then. She wondered if it was someone from the office, or if Charlie had mentioned it over lunch. Not that it mattered, she’d decided to be open about it when it was clear things with Steve were beyond repair. She’d never been great at hiding her feelings, and once they understood the reason behind it her colleagues had given her a wide berth on the mornings when she’d turned up red-eyed from lack of sleep and too many tears. ‘Getting there.’
He gave her the ghost of a wink before turning away to respond to some banter flying from the other end of the table, giving her the opportunity to study him from behind the shield of her wine glass. He’d rolled the sleeves of his blue and white checked shirt to his elbows, revealing tanned forearms that spoke of many hours spent outdoors. His hair was longer than she’d seen it in a while, the shaggy curls tangling in the back of his collar. A hint of five o’clock shadow dusted his chin the way it always did at this point in the evening. It struck her then that perhaps it wasn’t the sort of thing a woman ought to know about a man who wasn’t her husband.
Embarrassed, she looked away only to meet a knowing look from Michelle. With the slightest curl of her lip, the receptionist tilted her head to whisper something to the girl next to her, eyes never leaving Jess’s. For a horrible moment Jess was back in that toilet stall listening to Michelle bitch about her having a crush on Tristan.
Instinct had always pushed Jess to avoid confrontation and she’d submitted to the subtle bullying of messages not passed on, post misfiled and myriad other little snipes from this woman for years. She’d always told herself she was rising above it, that the lack of respect didn’t matter, but it did. It always had, but she’d never done anything about it, too afraid to rock the boat. But this wasn’t her boat any longer, was it? Michelle would never again ‘forget’ to book a meeting room for her because come Monday morning Jess would be trying to comfort her boys as she waited for her parents to arrive and help her pack their belongings.
Part of Jess wanted to wail about the unfairness of life, to curl up in a quiet corner and sob over her situation, but a larger part of her was angry. Angry that she and Steve hadn’t been able to find a way to stay together; angry that his plans were having such a drastic knock-on effect on her; angry at the thought of being trapped once more under her mother’s loving, but oppressive thumb. Marcus had always been the golden child, and Jess had accepted her role in the background, adoring him as she did. After his death, all that expectation he’d been unable to carry had fallen upon her shoulders. A burden she neither wanted, nor quite knew how to shrug off.
She’d been swallowing this anger for weeks, not wanting to upset the children or descend into pointless rows with Steve that would do nothing other than hurt them both even more than they already were, and now it felt like she would choke. Letting it push to the surface, she locked eyes with Michelle and let all the contempt she felt for the woman rest in that look. It didn’t take more than a few moments before Michelle lowered her head.
Reaching for her glass, Jess gave herself a little toast of victory then drained half of what remained in there.
‘Can I get you another?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse Tristan’s offer, but she gave him a smile of thanks instead. ‘Yes, please.’
The food Tim had ordered arrived as Tristan returned with their drinks and everyone tucked into the platters of sandwiches, bowls of chips, onion rings and other calorie-laden treats. Conversation ebbed and flowed, much of it led by Tristan, and she was content to settle into the background and let the evening wash over her.
After the first couple of hours, people started to drift off, home to their families, or in the case of one group on to
