Page 66 of The Village Christmas Party

‘No one other than my parents, who are a ten-minute drive away.’

I wonder then about the willowy blonde who is obviously not a family member.

‘They moved from Ireland to be closer to Bella,’ he explains. ‘They have two older grandchildren from my sister, who started young. Seventeen, to be exact. As you can imagine, the reaction from a Catholic Irish family wasn’t the best,’ he reveals. ‘But my parents came around in the end. My two nephews are twenty-two and twenty respectively, and doing their own thing now,’ hetells me. ‘Mum was delighted when Bella was born. She always wanted a granddaughter and wanted to be a part of her life, so they moved to the Lakes.’

‘I can understand that,’ I say. ‘And Bella is adorable.’

‘She is. I think after my parents retired, they realised they could be more involved with Bella, which is working out well.’

I’m about to say I saw him in town on Christmas Day, yet something stops me. I don’t want to ruin this perfect evening, so keep telling myself that surely he would not be sat here with me if there was anyone else on the scene.

Our order arrives then, and we dine on the most delicious food. It tastes a lot nicer than the chain I visited with Gemma, the chicken tarragon tasty and melt in the mouth. I can’t resist a tarte Tatin to finish, and soon Kian is settling the bill and we are taking the short walk to the cinema.

‘Are you cold?’ asks Kian as I wrap my shawl tightly around me as we walk.

‘Not really,’ I tell him. ‘Why? Would you have given me your coat if I said yes?’

‘I’m not that much of a gentleman.’ He laughs. ‘It’s cold out here.’ He shivers.

‘Charming.’ I laugh.

The sky is clear this evening, a silvery moon casting its light on the pavement. Christmas lights adorn shops and houses as we pass through the town reminding me that it is still very much the holiday season. A couple pass us, their hands entwined and I wonder how it would feel to have Kian’s hand in mine.

After a short walk, we enter the cinema and are greeted by a huge Christmas tree in the entrance. A queue of adults are waiting to pay so whilst Kian insists on buying the tickets, I grab us both a coffee from a kiosk.

Seated in the comfortable seats, I am soon immersed in the film, trying to dispel any uneasiness in the back of my mindabout the mystery woman. Kian told me that he had no other family nearby, so maybe that’s why I am curious as to who she is. Perhaps she is just a close friend, men are allowed to have friends, aren’t they? She could be someone from the apartment who was just walking home from town and ran into them both, but then, why would she be holding Bella’s hand?

If anything is going to distract me from my thoughts it is the beautiful film that has dual locations both in the British countryside and Syria. A chocolatier who ran a coffee shop in Damascus selling handmade truffles had been displaced by war many years ago, so opens a shop in a sleepy Cotswolds village. It had tones of the movieChocolat, but with some heartbreaking flashbacks from his life in his homeland before the atrocities. Overall, it was a story of triumph over tragedy, and left me with a smile on my face at the determination of the human spirit.

‘That was wonderful.’ I sigh as we take the walk back across town to the car park. ‘The film deserves those awards and to think it was based on a true story.’

‘I know, the guy uprooted his family from their homeland and took a chance, and it all worked out. I’m glad you enjoyed it, I loved it too,’ says Kian. ‘I did check the reviews carefully, as I didn’t want to take you to a flop of a movie.’

‘I think the restaurant would have made up for it, it was wonderful. And surely a film featuring chocolate could never be that bad.’ I laugh.

It is the nicest evening I have had in a long time, and I hope Kian will ask me out again. As we walk the town is still busy, music pulsing from a bar somewhere, people out enjoying the festive period.

‘Would you like a drink?’ He gestures to a quieter bar with a Christmas tree outside strung with white lights. ‘A soft drink for me, but you might prefer something stronger?’

‘Sure, why not, but I won’t have an alcoholic drink if you aren’t.’

‘We could always have a nightcap at my place instead?’ he suggests.

He stops and looks at me, before curling his hand around mine and even in the coldness of the night my body is flooded with warmth.

‘I’d like that, thank you.’

We walk, almost wordlessly to the car and I feel as though I am floating on air, as any doubts I may have harboured have disappeared.

‘I’ve had a lovely evening,’ I say as Kian opens the car door for me to step inside. Not before he has pulled me into his arms for a gentle, yet thrilling kiss, in the quiet car park shrouded by trees.

‘Wow that was unexpected,’ I tell him, when we pull apart.

‘Was it really?’ he asks. ‘I’ve been dying to kiss you all evening.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ I tell him as I slip into the passenger seat.

‘This is me then,’ says Kian, fifteen minutes later as he turns his key in the lock of the front door.

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