The Mistletoe Pact by Jo Lovett
Then – October 2016
Evie
Even having to share a taxi home with her mum and the man she’d met at the wedding – Grant, a newly divorced friend of Lucie’s new father-in-law and the landlord of the pub in Little Bishop, a neighbouring village – didn’t dent Evie’s mood.
‘My other daughter’s staying with my sister for the night and not due back until ten tomorrow.’ Evie’s mum ran her hand up Grant’s thigh while Evie tried not to gag and wished that her mum had stopped drinking a lot earlier in the evening. And then she thought about her own evening and started smiling again. She’d had fun; her mum had had fun. It looked like her mum’s night was likely to end with sex, and Evie’s clearly was not, but it would have done if Euan hadn’t got injured. Although then, if she was honest, she’d have had a lot less fun at the wedding.
That was something to think about.
It was actually something she didn’t want to think about.
Another thing she did and didn’t want to think about was what had happened at the end of that dance with Dan. They’d had a definite moment. Engaged people weren’t supposed to have moments with third parties. They weren’t supposed to adore dancing for hours with another man.
Her mum and Grant were looking into each other’s eyes. Evie really didn’t want them to kiss until she wasn’t there.
She needed somewhere to look that wasn’t at them or their reflection in the windows backed by the dark country night. Her phone. She pulled it out of her bag and discovered that Euan had finally replied to her last text asking how he was doing. He’d said Fine. Okay, well, good. You couldn’t expect him to send a long text. He’d had a bad day.
When the taxi finally arrived at their house – thank goodness; Evie’s mum and Grant were now way beyond the limit as to how much canoodling you could happily be around – Grant hopped out first and opened the door wide for Evie and her mum.
‘Hang on a minute, mate,’ he said to the taxi driver. ‘I’d love to get your number,’ he told Evie’s open-mouthed mum, getting his phone out.
Wow. So he wasn’t coming in.
Evie started letting herself into the house to get out of their way and as she went in heard Grant say, ‘I’d love to take you out for dinner.’ Wow. This was unusual.
Her mum came in very soon afterwards, definitely within under a minute, and said, ‘So that was weird. I thought he really liked me.’
‘Well, maybe he does. Maybe he just wants to take things slowly.’ Maybe Grant was interested in more than just sex, unlike the vast majority of men her mum was attracted to.
‘Hmm. I’m not sure.’
* * *
Evie went round to see Euan a couple of days later, after work. When she arrived, he opened the front door, wrapped in a blanket, led her into his sitting room and sat himself down on the sofa. The contents of his side table – three remote controls, two books (on Financial Management and Getting Ahead in Business), an empty coffee mug and a plate with two empty fruit compote tubs and a spoon placed neatly in the middle, the biggest mess Evie had ever seen in his house – indicated that he’d been on the sofa for a while.
‘How are you feeling?’ Evie asked.
‘A little bit delicate,’ he said. He touched his mouth very lightly and moaned a little.
Evie nodded. ‘I’m really sorry. Can I get you something to eat?’
‘Thank you. Maybe some soup. Or perhaps an omelette for some strength. Could you go and buy me some eggs? And I think perhaps some tomatoes and a little shredded ham. Perhaps some cheese. Stilton. All in the omelette, not on the side. Chopped and well-cooked so that I can manage them. Maybe with some chives. Fresh, obviously, not dried.’
‘Of course.’ Evie wasn’t as particular about her herbs as Euan was. ‘So shall I buy all of that for both of us? And then we can eat together?’
‘If you like.’ Euan leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Not that romantic for people who were supposedly engaged, but it was understandable that he’d be feeling rough with all that tooth pain.
A couple of hours later, when they’d finished their omelettes, plus some chocolate mousses Evie had bought for a treat, Euan said, ‘Thank you. That was very nice.’ He reached out and held Evie’s hand for a moment. ‘We should go engagement ring shopping together when I’m better.’
‘That would be lovely.’ Evie smiled at him and tried to push a tiny feeling of doubt out of her mind. Euan was perfect. She looked round his lovely, tidy, tasteful pale-grey sitting room. He’d be a wonderful husband.
By Saturday, he was well enough to go for a walk, which was very nice, but not well enough for ring shopping, he said.
Midway through their walk in a nearby wood, he put his arm round Evie’s shoulders and pulled her close to him.
‘I’m lucky to have you,’ he said. He leaned his head down towards Evie’s upturned face and then pulled back, saying, ‘No, I don’t think my mouth’s sufficiently recovered to kiss yet.’ He pulled a little mirror out of the pocket of his – very well-ironed – chinos and inspected his face while Evie waited.
Euan was tired after their walk, so Evie went home after agreeing a shopping trip and lunch in two weeks’ time – when Euan thought he’d definitely be better – to buy the ring. Which was very exciting. Quite exciting, anyway. Well, a bit exciting.
Maybe it should feel more exciting than it actually did.
* * *
‘I’m going for the bullseye,’ Sasha said the following Thursday evening, holding her third dart horizontally ahead of her between her forefinger and thumb.
‘You look like an actual darts player,’ Evie said, nodding encouragingly.
They were in The Crown, Grant’s pub in Little Bishop. He’d just set up a darts league and had invited Evie’s mum to get a team of four together for it. She’d been a little bit upset that he didn’t seem interested in her romantically – Evie suspected he was interested but was maybe keen to take things slowly after his nasty divorce – and had then decided it sounded like fun and had asked Evie and Sasha and Sasha’s mum Fiona to join her. Grant had provided them with large, pale-blue men’s team t-shirts to wear, so both Evie and Sasha’s mothers were looking very different from their usual respective low-cut dressy-topped and twin-setted selves, which was still making Evie giggle slightly every time she focused on one of them. The four of them were also wearing matching little pale-blue hats, knocked up in two evenings by Evie’s mum, which were lovely but, frankly, weird-looking with the t-shirts.
‘I am an actual darts player.’ Sasha let fly, with a lot of force, and her dart hit the board’s wooden surround, ricocheted off and just missed an elderly man nursing a pint at the bar.
‘Good try, darling,’ Fiona said as the man clutched his heart.
Grant hurried out from behind the bar, saying, ‘Great enthusiasm, Sasha,’ and helped the man to a bar stool further away.
Evie’s mum turned and glared at their (orange-t-shirted) opponents, who had clapped. She turned back to her team, frowning. ‘So unsporting. Right. I think we need to take this more seriously. I’m thinking we need to get some practice in before our next fixture. If you’re going to do something, do it properly. Could you all do next Wednesday evening?’
Fiona and Sasha both said they could, while Evie thought. She was supposed to be seeing Euan. But she’d so much rather play darts with her mum, her best friend and her best friend’s mum. What did that say about her relationship with Euan?
‘I’m free too,’ she said. She and Euan could go to the cinema another evening.
They stayed for another drink after they’d finished losing their match, and finally spilled out of the pub at about eleven, escorted to the door by Grant.
‘He’s lovely,’ Fiona said, when he’d finally kissed all their cheeks and gone back inside.
‘Just a friend,’ Evie’s mum said. ‘Blatantly not interested in sleeping with me. But, yes, a very nice man.’
‘I’ve just got a text from Millie asking about Dan,’ Sasha said, scrolling through her phone. ‘She’s so obvious about liking him.’
Evie could see where Millie was coming from. Her heart had literally just leapt at the mention of Dan’s name. She took her own phone out. And there was a message from Euan replying to hers about postponing their cinema date. And the sight of his name caused her no heart leap at all; in fact, it made her feel vaguely flat, like her mood was suffering from a slow puncture. If she was honest, she didn’t want to postpone the cinema trip; she wanted to cancel it forever. And she even more didn’t want to go engagement ring shopping with him.
Because, if she was honest, she really didn’t want to marry him.
She’d better tell him tomorrow. Shortest engagement ever. Just under two weeks. Like her mother, she made some rubbish choices when it came to men. Although in a different way.