Page 1 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
Chapter One
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“I never want to see you again as long as I live!”
“Jess, please, listen to me.” Glenn hurried down the stairs behind her as she hefted two large bin bags full of clothes out to her car. “I can explain.”
“Explain?” She turned to confront him, fury churning inside her. “Like it was a mistake? You weren’t really messaging those women?”
“Well, I . . .”
“And not only messaging.” Her voice was a snarl. “Dick pics! Dick pics!”
Glenn glanced nervously up and down the street. “Oh, go on,” he protested. “Why not shout it out so all the neighbours can hear?”
“Good.” She tossed the bags into the back of the car on top of the boxes of books, shoes and general jumble that were all her worldly possessions. “They should hear. They should know what a dirty, sleazy, low-life scumbag is living in their street.” She slammed the boot shut and marched round to the driver’s door.
“Where are you going?” Glenn pleaded.
“Anywhere away from here. As far away as I can get.”
“Jess, we’re getting married next month.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen now, is it? What part of ‘I never want to see you again’ is so difficult to understand? You can tell everyone it’s off. Goodbye and good riddance.”
“That car belongs to the business . . .”
“So sue me for it!”
Her hand was shaking as she pressed the ignition button, the wheels spinning as she put her foot down, pulled away from the kerb and headed for the main road. Before she reached it she forced herself to slow down and breathe steadily. She had no intention of giving Glenn the satisfaction of making her have an accident.
Where was she going to go? To her dad? He was happily settled with his new young wife, only a few years older than she was herself, with a toddler in the house and another on the way.
Or to her mum, still bitter more than four years after the divorce, and more than ready to indulge in a diatribe against the whole species of men. Which would be like eating too much chocolate — fine for a while, and then you’d just want to throw up.
So, Julia then — her twin sister. Everyone said it was impossible to tell them apart, but their personalities were complete opposites. Calm, easy-going Julia, never known to lose her temper. Jess had temper enough for both of them, as she’d be the first to acknowledge. A temper that went with her fiery red hair — a living cliché!
Her phone rang, and she ignored it. All calls would go to voicemail anyway, so if they wanted the motorbike shop they would get the office number to ring instead. And if it was Glenn, he could go to hell.
She checked the petrol gauge. She’d need to stop and fill up the tank before she hit the motorway, and she needed to ring Julia and check that it would be okay to land on her.
She knew it would be — they’d always been there for each other, from the time they’d shared a crib. But it would be the considerate thing to do, especially as Julia would probably have sensed, with that crazy twin telepathy they shared, that there was something wrong, and worry.
After making a quick stop on the way out of town to fill up with petrol and buy a large slab of chocolate, she pulled into a layby and took her phone out of her bag.
Julia picked up the phone after just one ring. “Jess? What’s up?”
“You knew.”
“Of course I knew. Tell me.”
“It’s a long story.” The tears had started — fierce, angry, hurt tears that she’d refused to shed in front of Glenn. Now it felt as if they were never going to stop. “Can I come down to yours for a few days?”
“Of course you can.” No hesitation, no questions. “You know that.”
“I’ll tell you the whole thing when I get there.”
