Page 7 of Christmas off Script
‘I’m not. I’m walking away. Anyway, Dad’s coming out next month, and—’
‘What?’
‘I found out this morning. He’s got early parole, so—’
‘Great,’ Oliver interrupted sarcastically. ‘Just what Foxbrooke needs. Ronnie Chamberlain at large again.’
Ella bit her lip. She knew Oliver was right, but Ronnie was her dad, and a part of her was still the little girl who hero-worshipped her father and had once believed he could do no wrong.
‘Look. This isn’t some spur-of-the-moment thing, Ella. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.’
She collapsed with a thump to the floor, her fingers picking at the rug. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I don’t know. I…’ He took a big breath. ‘I’ve made my decision, and it’s final. Mum and Dad are putting the house on the market next week so you’ll need to take down the pictures of—any personal pictures and tidy it up ready for the estate agent to take photos on Monday. Mum will use her key to let them in so you don’t need to take time off work.’
He sounded so matter-of-fact, as if he was delivering a well-practised speech.
‘The estate agents already have clients lined up to view and expect an offer by the middle of the week. It’s tight, but any buyer is likely to want to be in for Christmas, so we’re giving you plenty of time to find somewhere else to live.’
All the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Ella was dreaming. Hallucinating. These words couldn’t be coming out of the mouth of the man she’d given her heart and soul to for the past six years. The man she presumed she would marry.
‘Ella?’
‘Yes?’ she eventually managed.
‘Did you hear what I just said?’
She shook her head as if that would shake Oliver’s words away and everything would go back to normal.
‘Ella, it’s important you understand what this means. Do you want to—’ He let out a heavy breath. ‘Do you have anything you want to say?’
‘Like what?’ she replied dully. ‘Out of the blue, you’re dumping me and making me homeless just before Christmas.’
‘Oh, come on, Ella, don’t be like that. You sound just like Michelle.’
‘Well, how do you want me to sound?’ Her voice rose with anger. ‘Ecstatic? How the fuck wouldyoufeel if you were me right now?’
‘Okay, okay. I get that you’re upset.’
Fighting to breathe as grief crushed her ribs, she made a keening sound of pain that didn’t seem to belong to her.
‘We can speak again when you’ve calmed down. I’m sorry, Ella. Really, I am.’
Then he was gone.
Curling into a foetal position, Ella howled like an animal in pain. The seismic shock to her system split her in two. Half of her was detached, gazing down at her screaming form and frightened by the noise she was making. The other half was battered by a storm of grief so powerful it was tearing her apart.
Please stop making that sound. It’s scaring me.
But she couldn’t stop.
There was the sound of the front door opening and closing, then someone entered the room.
‘Ella! Jesus Christ! Are you hurt? What’s happened?’
The part of her soul that was hovering outside her body like a frantic parent cried with relief.
Leo. It’s Leo.
