Yuletide Reunion. Sharon Kendrick
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home alone—so there’s no one there to ask. But I’d love some tea,’ she added winningly.
‘Well, then, tea it is!’ Clemmie led the way into the sitting room and wondered if she had suffered some kind of emotional block all those years ago. Why on earth was she feeling so disorientated just because Aleck’s daughter had come to visit? He was a guy she had had a mad crush on and they had shared a kiss twelve years ago! Nothing more than that. So why was she making such a big deal out of it?
‘Our mom makes fantastic cake! You should see what she does for our birthdays! She makes rainbow frosting that tastes like heaven!’ Louella was confiding to Stella, her freckly face so like Clemmie’s as she babbled away excitedly.
‘Are you American?’ asked Stella curiously.
Justine shook her head. ‘Our dad was—is,’ she corrected herself hurriedly. ‘But he still lives in America, with his new girlfriend and their baby, and we live here now! But that’s where we grew up, and that’s why we’ve got accents. Do you suppose we’ll get teased by the other kids?’
Stella shook her head. ‘No way! All the girls will be jealous! If you speak with an American accent everyone thinks you’re a movie-star over here!’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘No, I’m not!’
Clemmie left them chattering while she went to refill the kettle, but before it had begun to boil she heard footsteps on the stairs and Justine shouting, ‘We’re taking Stella upstairs to show her round. Is that okay, Mom?’
‘Okay, that’s fine!’ Which would give her time to tackle some of these boxes...
Clemmie began to unpack the cases which were stacked haphazardly all over the kitchen floor, humming to herself as she did so. She had been torn—wanting to bring every single stick of furniture with her, mainly so that the girls would feel safe and surrounded by the familiar, but there had also been a side to her which had wanted to throw everything away. To start anew—without any objects which would remind her of Bill and the marriage she had struggled so long to sustain.
In the end she had just brought their favourite things—the good set of china which had been a wedding present, the rocking chair which Bill had carved for her in the early, happy days, and some small Shaker knick-knacks she had collected over the years. Amazing, she thought, as she pulled a jug out of the case and carefully peeled away the protective paper from it. You could spend ten years of your life in another country, and come back with very little to show for it.
Just two gorgeous daughters and a fierce determination to steer clear of men! Men were nothing but trouble and heartbreak. Men chewed you up and spat you out.
Even so, it seemed a rather cruel irony that Clemmie was now faced with the prospect of having to confront Aleck and Alison Cutler over the garden wall!
Still, she told herself briskly, as she placed a vase on the window-ledge. She had survived isolation and desertion and infidelity in a foreign country—she was damned sure that she could endure seeing her schoolgirl crush and the woman he had courted and married!
The morning seemed to fly by, so that Clemmie was able to accomplish plenty. She spent much of it wiping down the walls and the paintwork. She might think about giving each room a lick of paint once the girls had gone back to school.
Having Stella certainly helped keep them out of Clemmie’s hair, and she seemed like a very self-contained child. She had organised Justine and Louella into tidying up their giant doll’s house, and when Clemmie had stuck her head round the door a couple of minutes ago it had been to see three heads bent over it in industrious play!
At one-fifteen Clemmie washed her hands, put the kettle on, and was just thinking about getting some lunch for them all when there was a loud and peremptory knocking on the front door.
She stole a quick glance at herself in the mirror and grimaced at her jeans and old yellow tee-shirt, wishing that she’d made a bit more effort. She wasn’t best dressed to impress any of her new neighbours! Her dusty hair could do with a wash, and her face was completely bare of make-up, which only drew attention to the freckles which spattered her nose and cheeks and which were the bane of her life.
She pulled the front door open and the welcoming smile froze on. her lips as she realised the identity of the man who stood so tall and so broodingly on her doorstep. Clemmie stared up at Aleck Cutler.
Twelve years was a long time in anyone’s life—particularly the years between eighteen and thirty, when adolescents became adults—but all Clemmie could think about was how the essential characteristics of the man remained unaltered.
He was even taller, yes, and he had filled out, that was for sure. The snake-hipped teenage Aleck had been transformed into a big, strong man with hard, firm flesh and shoulders so wide you felt you could have rested the world there. Just a few silver strands ran through the abundant thickness of his dark hair, but the eyes were as remarkable and as mesmerising and as vibrant as they had been all those years ago, and Clemmie felt her face suddenly grow heated...
‘A-Aleck!’ she stammered. ‘Aleck Cutler!’
He stared at her, but made no greeting in response. Just clipped out coldly, ‘So it’s true. You’re back.’
If his eyes hadn’t been spitting unfriendly fire, Clemmie might have smiled. As it was, the hostile vibrations she was getting from him made her stiffen her shoulders defensively. ‘Obviously,’ she responded, her own voice chilly.
‘Have you got my daughter here?’
‘Y-you mean—Stella?’ she managed, stung and confused by his combative air.
‘Since I only have one daughter—yes, I do mean Stella,’ he told her with icy emphasis.
Clemmie could tolerate all kinds of things, but rudeness was not one of them. Years of being insulted within a failing marriage had reinforced her determination never to let a man treat her that way again. She stared at him. So he could wipe that disdainful look off his face right now!
‘Yes, she’s here!’ she snapped back. ‘And how was I supposed to know that you only have one daughter? Telepathy isn’t one of my particular talents!’
He looked at her properly then, the green-blue eyes taking their time as they slowly surveyed her from head to toes, and Clemmie was left feeling as though they had stripped her bare.
‘No,’ he said carefully. ‘As I recall you had many talents, Clemmie, but telepathy wasn’t one of them.’
‘Just what are you implying?’ she demanded, furious at that critical look on his face, and even more furious at the unconscious quickening of her heart when she realised that he did remember her name.
He gave a disparaging smile. ‘Oh, you surely don’t need me to spell it out for you, do you?’
‘Oh, I do,’ she mocked sweetly. ‘I can’t stand innuendo! So if you’ve got something to say, Aleck, why don’t you just go right ahead and say it?’
He raised his dark brows so that they slanted in arrogant surprise. ‘You mean relate the simple fact that if we hadn’t been discovered, then we probably would have ended up making love—with you straddled over one of the classroom desks, your panties down by your ankles?’
All the heat drained from Clemmie’s face—she was so shocked and horrified by his crude portrayal of what had actually happened. What a way to put it! ‘How can you say something like that?’ she whispered, in a hollow voice. ‘How can you?’
He shrugged, apparently not bothered by her white face, nor her trembling mouth. ‘How can I not? It’s what happened, isn’t it, Clemmie? Or would you prefer to define the episode as true love? Maybe that’s how you usually justify your behaviour to yourself—I don’t know.’
He managed to make the word ‘love’ drip with such venomous sarcasm