Page 69 of One More Day
‘Nope.’
‘Ah, Rusty.’
‘I think I was being stubborn, if truth be told,’ he says, fidgeting as he speaks. ‘I was trying to make a point that it’s not always her way or no way, but boy, that has backfired spectacularly. She’s barely speaking to me at all now.’
We both sip our drinks and try not to stare in the direction of the mince pie stall, where it all seems to be happening. One woman in a very fetching Mrs Claus outfit which is barely suitable for a family event, has her arms wrapped round Charlie’s neck and is planting a bright red kiss on his cheek for a photo. I catch his eye as he wipes it off with the back of his hand and my own face goes red in response. Myface can’t lie, and I can’t deny that I did feel a slight nip from the green-eyed monster. I’m a bit like Marion. I need to catch myself on. I don’t own him.
‘I do understand how she’d be upset by me not telling her,’ I say to Rusty, doing my best to divert my eyes in any direction other than Charlie’s, ‘but if you need a strong defence, it was reallyCharliewho let me stay. You only just suggested it, even if you didn’t give him much wriggle room to say no, but Marion doesn’t need to know that. You could just claim it was his idea, full stop.’
Rusty’s forehead wrinkles into a frown.
‘But what were the alternatives?’ he asks me, his ginger beard catching some of the cream of his own Snow Queen Special as he sips from his cup. ‘Leave you out in the cold, literally? You’re my own flesh and blood, Rose. If you were a total stranger, I still couldn’t have left you stranded.’
I put my hand on Rusty’s arm as a gesture of thanks for his loyalty.
‘Mind you, Marion would have probably welcomed in a stranger over me, not that I’d blame her after some of the words that were exchanged back in the day. It was brutal.’
He doesn’t respond for a second. He knows all too well that’s the truth.
‘It was brutal indeed, but it’s my family affair, not hers. And on the same page, our marital problems are exactly that,’ he concludes. ‘Ours. Not yours to be bored with. Now, on another note, how are you and Prince Charming getting along at the cottage?’
I laugh at the idea of Charlie being charming. But then I remember he is. He’s very charming indeed which is why I need to keep my distance more than ever.
‘I’m still waiting on that car part, so I’d say you’re here for another while,’ says Rusty.
‘I was thinking that anyhow.’
‘Sorry, Rose, but I did warn you it wouldn’t be this side of Christmas. So is everything going OK for you both? How’ve you been getting on?’
My eyes magnetically move again to Charlie as I ponder my answer and my face creeps into a smile as I recall some of our encounters over the past few days. Where do I begin?
‘Well … you could say that we’re equally irritated by it all, and equally playing some sort of silly avoidance dance which is kind of working,’ I reply, doing my best to sum it all up so far. ‘It’s been interesting, I have to say.’
‘Oh …’
‘But then I fell off the bike the other day, he helped me bandage up my war wounds and he made me dinner. He left it at the bedroom door.’
Rusty takes a step back and looks me face to face.
‘Uh oh …’
‘What?’
He laughs and slaps his thigh.
‘Rosebud, you’re smitten!’ he says, his face lighting up. ‘Ah, it’s like the circus has come to town. All the women around here are going gaga for him, but I should have known this would happen. Two fine-looking youngsters, tuckedaway in a cottage with no one around to bother them and then, boom!’
‘No, Rusty, no, no. Slow down, it’s not like that, and we’re hardly youngsters. Look, I know absolutely nothing about Charlie so far, not even his surname. In fact, the only thing I do know is that he has a young daughter somewhere out there who he is missing terribly, and a woman called Helena who seems to call him, and vice versa, an awful lot. So it’s not what you’re thinking at all, and it never will be.’
Rusty rolls his eyes and stirs his drink with the chocolate flake which is quickly turning into a melted mess. His Santa duties are done, having been rescued for the final hour of the fayre by a younger, much leaner model who I must say doesn’t seem to be having the same appeal. Meanwhile, the cool elf from Rusty’s shift has been replaced by a much rattier female version who sounds like she’d be better placed in charge of a prison than a children’s Christmas grotto.
‘If there’s a woman and a child involved, then stay far, far away,’ Rusty warns me, shooting me a warning glance. ‘Don’t get your fingers burnt, Rose. That’s all I’m saying on the subject. Be careful.’
Oh, here we go.
‘You’ve no need to tell me that,’ I remind him quickly. ‘I’m not some sort of marriage wrecker, Rusty. Do you think I’d even go there? Not a chance. Besides, Charlie and I barely talk to each other.’
He does a double-take.
