Meg
How could Oliver be so cruel? Meg Preston wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, sat up and hugged her knees, trying to process everything that had happened. She loved Oliver so much, thought they would be together forever, and now… now she didn’t see how they could be. Not after the bombshell Oliver had dropped. He should be apologising, grovelling, explaining himself, not storming out as if she were the one to blame, the one who had lied. He knew how important this was to her; how could he deliberately deceive her? She was the one who should have stormed out! How bloody dare he put this on her?
She glanced at the clock: just after ten. Oliver had been gone over two hours now, leaving Meg sobbing on the bed, her world crashing around her ears. She couldn’t believe he could be so heartless. Some Christmas this was going to be. And she’d been hoping they’d be starting the new year with something to celebrate. Oliver had made it very clear that there was no chance of that. Well, she’d had enough of him calling the shots. She wasn’t waiting for him to return, for an apology and an explanation that she obviously wasn’t going to get. She needed to get away, to give herself time to think about it all, to decide if she wanted to be with Oliver now she knew how he really felt. And right now, the answer was no.
Where could she go? She cast her mind over their various friends; they were all happily coupled and didn’t need her turning up with her suitcase at this time of night any more than she needed to see their togetherness right now. She didn’t fancy going to her parents’ house either; her mum would fuss and her dad would lecture, telling her that she and Oliver had made vows and should stick to them. As far as her parents were concerned, marriage was for life. Well, she had thought that too until the horrible events of this evening.
So a hotel room was the best option, at least for tonight, until she was clear about what she wanted to do. Meg grabbed her mobile, did a quick search on nearby room vacancies and booked one in a small hotel about a quarter of an hour away. Right, now she needed to move fast; she wanted to be gone when Oliver came back. Let him be the one sitting at home wondering what she was doing! She pulled her case from the top of the wardrobe, heaved it onto the bed and opened it up. What should she take with her when she didn’t know how long she’d be gone? She grabbed jeans, jumpers, underwear, pyjamas, her make-up and a hair dryer and placed them in the case, then added a couple of dresses too – she might decide not to come back and would need more than jeans if she was staying at a hotel over Christmas. She wished she could take Laurel and Hardy, their cute mini-lop rabbits, with her; they would be such a comfort and she hated to leave them behind, but what choice did she have? As soon as I’ve sorted out what I’m going to do, I’ll come back for them, she promised herself, adding a couple of pairs of shoes, her boots and her laptop and charger to the case then closing it up.
She lugged her case downstairs and left it in the hall while she went into the kitchen to give the bunnies a cuddle. Laurel scampered over to Meg as soon as she entered the room, but Hardy was too busy tucking into a mound of fresh kale. Meg smiled as she watched them. It had been Oliver’s suggestion to call them Laurel and Hardy, and she had agreed even though one of the bunnies was male and the other female. After all, Laurel was a female name and suited the tiny, honey-coloured bunny, who always wanted to please, whereas Hardy suited the bigger, fatter, lazier and greedier – but just as gorgeous – white bunny. She loved them both so much and would miss them like crazy. She bent down and scooped up Laurel, who was making her ‘happy’ noise and flicking her ears. The little bunny licked Meg’s hand and snuggled into her. Hardy looked up then went back to nibbling the kale.
‘I’m sorry I have to go, but I’ll be back soon.’ Meg kissed Laurel on the forehead then put her back in the pen and stroked Hardy, who was still eating. ‘Be good and don’t squash Laurel,’ she told him. Hardy loved to lie on top of Laurel, and Meg and Oliver often joked that the white bunny would get so fat that one day he’d flatten his companion. She closed the pen sadly. She didn’t want to leave her pets behind, didn’t want to leave her home either. But she couldn’t bear to be here when Oliver returned. He had deceived her and ruined the future they had always planned. She didn’t see how she could ever forgive him for that. She took her notebook out of her handbag, ripped out a page and scribbled a note to Oliver:
You’ve really hurt me. I can’t believe that you’ve lied to me over something as important as this. I’ve gone away to think about whether I want to be with you now I know how you really feel.
Meg
No kisses. She placed the note by the sugar bowl, went back into the hall, grabbed her case and walked out.
She’d unpacked at the hotel and had a bath before her phone rang. She looked at the screen. Oliver. And it was almost midnight. She’d answer it. Maybe now he’d thought about it, and come back to find Meg gone, he might want to apologise, to tell her that he hadn’t meant it.
‘I can’t believe you’ve walked out just because of what I said. Is that all I mean to you?’ Oliver shouted down the phone. No apology, then.
Meg took a deep breath. ‘Well, I obviously don’t mean much to you as you’ve deceived me for years!’ she retorted.
‘You’re making this more than it is—’
‘Really?’ She pressed her fingers to her temple as a dull ache began to form. ‘Have you any idea how much you’ve hurt me? I don’t want to talk to you, let alone be with you right now. I need some space to think.’
‘I didn’t deceive you. You’re the one who pushed me into a corner, wanting a decision right now. And just because I don’t give you the one you want, you walk out! I thought you loved me. That our relationship meant more than that to you.’
‘And I thought you loved me, but obviously you don’t, otherwise you would have told me the truth sooner.’
‘You’re being unreasonable, Meg—’
‘How bloody dare you call me unreasonable?’ she yelled then ended the call and turned her phone to silent. She didn’t want to talk to Oliver any more tonight.
It took her a long time to fall asleep, and then it was a restless one. She woke early and reached for her phone, hoping to find a message from Oliver saying he was sorry and hadn’t meant what he’d said, begging her to come home.
No messages, no missed calls, no voicemails.
Well, that showed how much he cared, didn’t it? Shaking her head sadly, she realised she couldn’t go back. Nothing would ever be the same between them.
It’s nearly Christmas, Meg. You can’t split up at Christmas.
Oliver had left her with no choice. There was no way she could spend Christmas Day smiling and being jolly at her parents’ house, with Dan and Katya and little Tom, pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t. Her whole world had been blown apart and Oliver didn’t seem to understand how devastated she was.
She wasn’t even sure her parents would understand. Their marriage was rock-solid, and they believed in working through their differences – not that she could remember many arguments between them when she and Dan were growing up; it was mainly a quiet, peaceful household. ‘You should respect each other’s opinions,’ her father had always said when she and her brother, Dan, had argued. Well, she respected Oliver’s opinion and his right to keep some things private, but this was something he should have told her about when they first got together, and definitely before they’d got married. She loved him so much but didn’t see how their marriage could continue when it was built on such an enormous lie which had a massive impact on their marriage.
I’ll go away for Christmas, she decided. I’ll spend it quietly by myself, give myself time to come to terms with things.
She picked up her phone and sent Oliver a message.
I don’t see how we can get past this, Oliver. I really don’t. I’m going away for Christmas, to give me time to think about it. I want you to think about it too, to make sure that really is your final decision.
A message shot back.
Fine. If that’s all I mean to you, go ahead. And yes, it’s my final decision.
Meg read it, shocked and hurt at the brief contents and the speed of the reply. Obviously he wasn’t even prepared to discuss this. She typed back:
Then we’re over. I’ll be in touch for my things in a couple of weeks and to collect Laurel and Hardy.
Then another message followed.
The bunnies are staying with me.
She’d half-expected – hoped – that he might try to talk her out of leaving, to try and salvage their marriage, but obviously he didn’t care. Fuming, she shot a message back.
You’re not having the bloody bunnies.
She’d have to let her parents know that she and Oliver wouldn’t be coming to them for Christmas. Then she’d book herself in somewhere for a week or so, until she sorted herself out. Heartbroken, she called her mum. It went straight to answerphone.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but me and Oliver have split up. We won’t be coming over on Christmas Day,’ she gabbled. ‘I’m really sorry to let you all down but I need to get away for a bit.’
She sat up on the bed, her head resting on her bent knees, her phone still in her hand. What should she do? Where could she go? She could maybe stay at this hotel over Christmas; it didn’t seem that busy but it was a bit close to home. She wanted to put more than a quarter of an hour’s distance between her and Oliver, to get right away from Exeter. Maybe she could rent a little cottage? But then she would be completely on her own. Is that what she really wanted? She might be better off in a hotel where she could mix with other people if she wanted to. She started to do an Internet search on Christmas holiday breaks.
She caught her breath as her phone rang, feeling a pang of disappointment as her mum’s name and image appeared on the screen. She’d hoped it was Oliver, begging her not to leave him. Did he really care so little about her?
She wasn’t sure she was up to talking to her mum. She would have a dozen questions and Dad would probably be shouting in the background, telling Meg to talk it through, that they had made vows, that if they loved each other they could sort it out. The ringing stopped. Then it started again. Mum was determined to talk to her, so she might as well get it over with.
‘Oh, Meg, sweetheart, what’s happened?’
The sound of her mum’s concerned voice brought a lump to Meg’s throat. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Mum, it’s too upsetting, and I don’t think we can fix it.’ Her voice broke. ‘I need to get away for Christmas, think things over.’
‘Then come with me, we can spend Christmas together. I’ve… I’ve actually just rented a cottage near Boscastle, down in Cornwall, until the second of January. There’s plenty of room for you too and it’s a lovely area.’
‘Are you going with Dad?’ Meg was confused. She’d thought the family Christmas at home was all planned, same as every year. When had they decided to go away? And why? She couldn’t remember the last time her parents had gone away together. Dad was a homebody, preferring familiar surroundings.
‘Not with your father, no,’ her mum replied. ‘I don’t know exactly how to tell you this. Especially right now.’ She paused. ‘I’m leaving, Meg. I’m leaving your dad.’
‘W-what?’ Meg stammered. Her parents were splitting up? She couldn’t take it in. She had thought they were happy together. How could they be splitting up after all this time? ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘What’s happened, Mum?’
‘I… Look, it’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone, let’s both talk when we’re at the cottage – if you want to, that is. Please say you’ll come, Meg,’ her mother said. ‘It’s only about a ninety-minute drive. I’m setting off later this morning and I’ll send you the location so you can drive down when you’re ready. It’s probably best if we each go in our own car in case one of us wants to go home at any point.’
Her parents lived less than half an hour’s drive away so they could easily have shared a ride, but Meg guessed Mum was right. She might not want to stay until January. They might drive each other mad! She and her mum got on fairly well, but even so, over two weeks with just the two of them in a cottage could be difficult, especially as they were both bound to be emotional. She still couldn’t get her head around the fact that her mother had walked out. What on earth had happened? She might as well go for Christmas though. It was better than spending it alone. And she had to find out what had happened with her mum and dad. Maybe she could get them back together again. ‘Okay. I’ll come. Thanks, Mum,’ she agreed.
‘You will? I’m so pleased. I’ve got to go now. See you later, love.’
A few seconds later a message zinged in, showing an image of a pretty terraced cottage in a place called Goolan Bay.
Meg stared at it, still stunned from the phone call. Why was her mum leaving her dad, and why go to Goolan Bay of all places? She had never known her parents to go to Cornwall. Why had Mum chosen to spend Christmas there?
Sally
As soon as she’d sent the message, Sally Carter sat down, shaking. She couldn’t believe she’d actually told Meg that she was leaving Ted. She hadn’t even told Ted yet! In fact, she’d only just made the decision. Yes, the idea had been playing around in her mind for a long time now. It had gotten stronger just lately but she had been shelving it until after Christmas. Then she’d received Meg’s answerphone message, and although it had shocked her – she’d thought Meg and Oliver were happy together – she’d realised that it must be something important for Meg to take such a step. Meg adored Oliver. She would never split up with him, especially just before Christmas, if it wasn’t something serious. It was a brave step not to put up with whatever it was until at least the holidays were over.
It had given Sally the courage to finally take that step too. She didn’t want to act all merry on Christmas Day, cook dinner, make small talk with the family, pretend everything was all hunky-dory. She didn’t want to settle for spending the rest of her life on autopilot with Ted. She wanted to get away. Why wait until after Christmas?
Where could she go at such short notice, though? She didn’t want to tell any of their friends yet, especially Frances and Martin – thank goodness they were off on that cruise tomorrow; Frances would be all questions and then gossip about it to everyone they knew. And a hotel was so… busy. She wanted somewhere she could completely get away from it all. Give her a chance to think, to be sure she was making the right decision to leave Ted. She was so miserable and didn’t think he was happy either, but they’d been together so long…
Then it had come to her: Smuggler’s Haunt, the little fisherman’s cottage near Boscastle that held so many happy memories for her. She just hoped that it wasn’t booked up. She did a quick Internet search, saw to her relief that the cottage was free until 2 January, and immediately booked it with her credit card. Then she’d phoned Meg.
She felt a mixture of trepidation and freedom: she really wanted this, had wanted it for so long, but now she had to break it to Ted. Not a prospect she was relishing. She’d pack a case first then go out into the garden where Ted was busy, as usual, and tell him.
She went up to their bedroom and started packing some things into a suitcase. She was almost done when the bedroom door opened and Ted walked in, dressed in his usual gardening gear of faded navy corduroy trousers, red and blue checked shirt, and navy quilted body warmer. He’d put on some weight since he’d retired, despite the hours he spent in the garden, and his cheeks were always ruddy – probably the fresh air, and the tipple of Scotch he liked to have every night before bed. He glanced at the case, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. ‘Where are you going now? You never mentioned you were going away.’ She could hear the mix of resentment and annoyance in his voice.
‘Meg and Oliver have split up. I’m going to spend a couple of days with her.’
‘What? Why?’ Astonished, he sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I thought they were both happy together.’
‘I don’t know why but it sounds serious.’
‘Where are you both going?’
‘Cornwall. Meg needs my support.’ She carried on folding her clothes into the case, then closed it.
‘Cornwall?’ he repeated, puzzled. ‘How long for? And what about Christmas? Meg’s still coming for Christmas, isn’t she?’
Is that all he could think about? His traditional Christmas? ‘Oliver and Meg have split up, Ted. I should think Christmas is the last thing on her mind.’ She paused. ‘And it’s the last thing on my mind too, right now. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Or if I’ll be back.’
He stared at her uncomprehendingly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Isn’t it time we stopped pretending? Meg’s marriage isn’t the only one in trouble. Our marriage hasn’t been working for a long time, Ted. We both want different things in life. I think… I think we’d be better off apart,’ she stammered.
She saw his confusion turn to hurt. ‘You mean you’re leaving me? At Christmas?’ He ran a hand over his almost bald head. ‘Is this because I don’t want to go gallivanting around the world on a perishing cruise with Frances and Martin?’
That was typical Ted. He never listened to her, never tried to understand. ‘No, Ted, I’m not leaving you because you don’t want to go on the cruise. I’m leaving you because you don’t want to do anything or go anywhere with me.’ She stuffed another pair of leggings into the case and slammed the lid shut. ‘I don’t even think you actually want to be with me, you’ve just got used to me being here.’ She looked over at him, silently begging him to understand. To say something that made her feel like he cared. ‘There’s so much I want to do with my life, Ted, whereas you don’t seem to want to do anything except be out in the garden or play bowls.’
Ted snorted. ‘What’s this? Some kind of old-age crisis?’ He stood up and pointed a finger at her. ‘I never stop you doing anything. You can live your life how you want. And you do.’
If only. ‘That’s not true, and you know it. When I go anywhere you sulk about it even though you refuse to do anything with me. Don’t you see we live separate lives, Ted? We’re not a couple any more; we’re just like friends who share the same house.’
Ted glared at her. ‘And what’s wrong with being friends? Life isn’t all about soppy stuff, you know. It’s about getting along. We’re too old to be bothering about all that romantic nonsense.’
‘That’s just it, we aren’t too old for romance, Ted. You’re never too old for romance.’ She sighed. ‘We don’t share any interests or do anything together any more. I’m sorry, but – especially with what’s going on with Meg and Oliver – I can’t face pretending we’re happy together just for the sake of a family Christmas. I’m sure Dan and Katya will invite you to their house; it won’t hurt them to cook the dinner for a change. I’m going away with Meg and I don’t know if I’m coming back.’
‘Well, you have your “singletons” Christmas then, see if I care. Of course you’ll be back. And when you do, I hope you’ll have changed your attitude and learnt to appreciate what you’ve got. There’s plenty of women who would love to have a steady, reliable husband like me,’ retorted Ted, and he walked out of the room.
He’s treating it like I’m going on a holiday, Sally thought crossly, and he’s only miffed because it has left him in the lurch at Christmas. Typical Ted to pooh-pooh my feelings and just carry on with life as normal.
When she went downstairs with her case, he was back in the garden.
‘I’m off now. I’ll keep in touch,’ she told him.
He looked up, his face stony. ‘Do what you want. You always do.’
Which is wrong, she thought. She hardly ever did what she wanted. But starting from now, she was going to.
Meg
Meg checked out of the hotel and drove down to Goolan Bay in a mixture of disbelief and shock as she tried to get her head around the fact that her p. . .
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