Page 46 of Christmas Every Day
I jumped up and opened the door, leading him inside. ‘You can put it on the side.’
He opened the box, lifting out a mini electric oven, with two rings for pans on the top. ‘I bought this when the business first got going and I lived in a caravan for a while. Anyway. Sarah thought you might find it useful until you get a proper one fitted.’
I looked at the oven, trying to figure out if the caravan story was a fib. There were a couple of scratches on one corner, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have roughed it up a bit to corroborate his story.
‘Thanks. I don’t really know what to say.’
Jamie shrugged. ‘Neither do I. Let’s pretend it never happened.’
‘Pretend what didn’t happen?’
He winked at me. ‘See you around.’
Before I could reply, he’d vanished into the night.
I still stood there, gazing at the oven –with a mini hob! Two rings!– when Mack stomped into the kitchen.
‘Who the hell was that?’ He glowered.
‘I thought everyone in this village knew everybody else.’ I crossed my arms, feigning nonchalance.
‘I don’t live in the village. He doesn’t look like a typical resident. More like he’d come to burgle it.’
‘He goes to my book club. And he runs a security company.’ I concentrated hard on keeping my mouth from turning up at the corners.
‘And he gave you an oven.’
‘Yes.’ I turned to look at it, hiding my failed attempt not to smile. ‘You don’t have the monopoly on giving me unwanted stuff.’
‘Did he give you the fridge too?’
‘No.’ I was being deliberately obtuse. Something was starting to crackle and pop across the kitchen. And it wasn’t the chilli in my slow cooker.
‘I hope you know him well enough to be accepting gifts. Those cookers are pricy. Be careful you aren’t sending the wrong message.’
I struggled to find a reply, too discombobulated at this surreal Mack, and the feelings he was stirring up. ‘Are you saying if a man gives me gifts there’s a hidden motive?’ Translate:did you mean something by the stuff you gave me after all?
‘There could be. You’d be stupid not to consider it.’
‘And that if I accept them I’m sending a message?’ Translate:do you think I’ve sent you a message?
‘Some guys would see it that way.’
I stood gaping like a fish, ricocheting between being offended, flattered and utterly confused, when my mouth opened and got the question out there:
‘Are you talking about Jamie or is this about us? Because Jamie’s in love with Sarah.I’mnot the woman he’s trying to impress. Was all that help, the bedding, the bike tyres…something? Because what happened with the chair, that wasn’t really anything but felt like something. I wasn’t sending a message. And the cakes, the chicken. All of it. The only message was “Hi, neighbour. Thanks for your help. Let’s maybe hang out some time seeing as neither of us seem to have many friends. Cheers, bye.” That was the message. Did you think it was something different? Was all this like flirting to you?’
‘What?’ Mack reeled back, shaking his head. Vigorously. He looked horrified. Insultingly so, if I’m honest. ‘I meant Rambo out there. I was clear about those… I’m being a friend, Jenny. Trying to look out for you. It’s understandable I’d be concerned, given your ability to attract disaster. Bloody hell. No. I didn’t mean me. I’m… I was only… Jenny, I’mmarried.’
Now that, I was not expecting.
Neither was Mack, judging by how white, then red, his face turned in the time it took me to start breathing again. ‘Anyway, I was just checking you were okay,’ he mumbled, before disappearing a lot less gracefully than Jamie had done.
Married?Married?Then where the heck was his wife?
I tossed, turned and twisted all night, thinking angry and conflicting thoughts about marriages. My sister’s. Mack’s. The one I’d probably never have.
I’d thought it bad enough having a secret boyfriend. Keeping your spouse secret was a whole other level of not-right.
