Page 6 of Christmas Spirit
The car inched along the lane. Despite his earlier outburst, Georgie was glad of the lift. There was no way he’d have got far on foot, and then he’d have been stuck. Roland had said he’d get him to the station, and Georgie believed him. Whatever he thought of the man, he knew he’d keep his word.
Georgie glanced at the rearview mirror. Roland’s dark green eyes were trained on the road ahead of him, his face set, resolute and determined, reminding Georgie of the hero of a Hollywood blockbuster. How could a guy who was so damn mouthwatering be so bloody sour? Georgie went to look away, but Roland’s gaze shifted, meeting Georgie’s. Roland’s eyes narrowed, just a little, before his attention returned to the road.
Roland would get him to town, but what then? Georgie had a choice of two other trains later, but he doubted they’d be running in this weather. His heart fell. The town’s station was on a branch line. He was meant to get his connection to London from Southampton. It only took a couple of inches of snow to grind the country to a halt, but this wasn’t inches, it was feet. Georgie swallowed. There was no way he was going to get back to London today, which meant a freezing cold night spent in the station waiting room. He didn’t have the money for even a cheap budget hotel, not that the small country town had any of those. The place was wealthy and well-heeled and one night, just before Christmas, would cost him more than he earned in a month.
Georgie blinked as his vision misted. Could his life get any worse? He wouldn’t cry, he refused to cry, and he’ddefinitelynot cry in front of Roland Fletcher Jones.
“I don’t believe this.” Roland leaned forward over the steering wheel.
More signs. Another arrow, another diversion.
“Those wooden signs,” Georgie said, frowning, “they’re really odd. I’ve never—”
“The GPS has stopped working. I’ve got no idea where we are. Do you recognise it around here?” Roland barked, swinging around. His face screwed up in irritation, eyes boring into Georgie as though it were his fault they were being shunted down one narrow lane after another.
Georgie ground his teeth together as he peered out the window. There was nothing to recognise. The landscape was featureless and there were no signposts pointing the way to any one of the many small and tucked away villages.
“No. I don’t know where we are.”
Roland muttered under his breath as he pulled out his phone.
“I need to cancel my dinner reservation. Bloody hell, I don’t have a signal. Do you have anything on yours?”
Georgie’s face prickled with heat. “I don’t have a mobile phone.”
“What?” Roland’s brows shot up. “Everybody has a mobile.”
“Not me.”
Can’t afford it, and who would I phone if I did?
Roland said nothing, but Georgie thought he saw a flicker of understanding in the man’s eyes.
Or maybe that’s my imagination.
Roland’s phone was top of the range, but if it couldn’t get a signal it was nothing more than a useless chunk of plastic.
Georgie settled back into the seat as Roland inched his way along the lane, just as he had before. Where they were going and when they’d get there, Georgie had no idea, as he gazed out of the window and stared at the bleak and featureless countryside.
Chapter Five
The dull ache that had settled behind Roland’s eyes was turning into a full scale headache. The relentless snow that beat against the windscreen, and the growing conviction they were heading further and further away from town, was taking its toll. And where the hell had this snow come from, anyway? A light fall had been forecast, far to the west, but he was heading north-east, and towards London. But maybe he wasn’t, not anymore. He had no idea where they were.
The diversions felt as though they were taking them around in circles. He knew the surrounding countryside, or thought he did, but since they’d come off the main road there had been nothing even remotely recognisable. He leaned forward, peering into the white wall that filled his windscreen, inching forward.
Where in God’s name were they?
If they got to town, hours away most likely, he’d book into a hotel for the night and make his way to London in the morning.
Roland glanced in the rearview mirror. Georgie’s face was glum as he stared out over the featureless landscape, and it was no wonder. He’d missed his train, and the likelihood of another running today was nil. Like him, Georgie would have to find a hotel, but it was doubtful that would happen. A kitchen boy earned so little, and a night in a hotel in the prosperous and well-heeled town they were allegedly aiming for would easily blow the best part of a month’s wages, if not more. The boy couldn’t even afford a basic mobile phone…
He swore under his breath.
What the boy did when they eventually arrived wasn’t his concern.But…He’d committed to getting Georgie to the station, but it would be a miracle if the trains were running. He couldn’t just dump him there. Or could he?
No.
Roland massaged his brow as he squinted into the blinding whiteness.
