The Great Christmas Escape

by Kellie Hailes

Genres: Holiday Romance

Synopsis

It's time to swap mistletoe and mince pies for the adventure of a lifetime!

Sara's life has been in a bit of a rut. Lately, her job as a photographer has just meant taking photos of happy couples and families all day before returning to her empty flat. And while she normally loves Christmas with her family, this year a part of her just wants to run away. So when her ex-husband Fin gets in touch with a wild idea - a joint work trip to New Zealand - she knows it's crazy... but she says yes!

A celebrated travel blogger, Fin has made a career out of following his bliss. As much as he loves Sara, the steady family life she's always wanted is not one he can give her. This trip together is his one chance to win her back. But can he convert her to his impulsive lifestyle? There's only one way to find out.

As the two explore the stunning sights and thrills of New Zealand, they're about to discover there's so much more to each other than they ever realised...

A Christmas romcom like no other, The Great Christmas Escape by Kellie Hailes is the perfect getaway read this year...

Release date: October 18, 2021

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 336

Sample

Bracing herself for the bump, Sara gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, leaned back in her seat, gripped the arm rests, and sent a silent prayer to the gods of travel that all was in order with the wings, the engine, the navigation systems, and whatever else went into making a plane fly half way across the world.

She exhaled, her inflated chest relaxing, as the bump she’d been preparing for was more of a blip. Around her, relieved passengers clapped their thanks, and she joined in, all the while half-wondering if an accident – directed solely at the loan passenger seated in 67F – would’ve been preferable compared to what was to come.

The crackle of the intercom alerted her to a message coming in from the crew.

‘This is Captain Wilson. Welcome to Auckland, New Zealand. The temperature outside is a beautiful twenty-three degrees with a light north-west breeze. Thank you choosing to fly with us, and wherever you’re heading onto from here, we wish you all the best and safe travels.’

New Zealand. Sara shook her head, unable to comprehend how she found herself so far away from her family, from her home, at Christmas, in a country where there would be no scarves, no woolly hats, no thick, cheesy Christmas jumpers. No gentle teasing, no outright arguments, no roast turkey with all the trimmings, and maybe even no mulled wine.

Also, no being faced with two ridiculously happy couples, in the form of her mother and father, and her brother Cy and his fiancée, Paige – whose lives were going in leaps and bounds with big moves on the way, not to mention the blessing of a baby. All happening while she remained stuck in her sorry excuse for a life. Waking up to a quiet flat, going to work, taking photos of other happy couples and families, going home and eating a takeaway before going to sleep, then waking to the same routine all over again.

Day after day. Night after night.

‘Cheer up, Sunshine. You’ve just landed in paradise.’

Sara fought the urge to shoot the older gentleman with the kind eyes and gentle smile down with eye daggers. It wasn’t his fault she was second guessing her decision to abandon her family at Christmas.

For the millionth time.

In the last hour.

For the zillionth time since she’d boarded the plane in Heathrow.

For however many ‘illionths’ came after zillionth since her ex-husband – technically still her husband since no divorce papers had been signed, let alone drawn up – had rung her and in his usual excitable, everything-is-great-nothing-can-go-wrong manner told her he’d scored the best gig of his travel blogging career, one that if executed beautifully could see him win Travel Blogger of the Year, but he needed the best photographer, and that was her, and he couldn’t do it without her.

And I know there’s no reason for you to come, Sar. No reason for you to help me. But I think it could be good… for the both of us. Just say yes, please.

Any other day she’d have listened to those words, told Fin he was right, that there was no reason for her to help him, said no then hung up, reminding herself she hated him for walking out on her without a word; that he was a selfish arse who only cared about himself. But that day she’d been stuck in a space between thrilled at her brother’s news that he and Paige were expecting a baby, blindsided by her parents’ announcement that they were upping sticks and retiring to some still-to-be-determined spot in Cornwall, and feeling adrift at her own lack of movement. Not just personally, but also professionally. Her passion for portrait photography had waned, to the point where she felt like she was phoning it in. Not engaging with her clients in the way she used to. Not capturing their moments of joy, laughter and love as well as she knew she could.

With the fear she was losing her touch mixed with Christmas approaching and the image of her family all being coupled up and happy together, and her alone, again, she found the word ‘yes’ leaping from her mouth.

‘First time here?’

Sara mustered a smile and realised she’d not bothered to reply. She must be more tired than she realised. Could jetlag kick in this quickly? She had no idea, having not travelled away from the UK since she was a young girl, back in the days when her family had the means to travel regularly. Back before her father’s financial screw-ups had seen them lose everything, leaving them to rebuild. A tough time, that ultimately drew them closer together, making the latest news harder for her to bear. As happy as she was for her family, with each announcement she’d felt a wedge of ‘otherness’ split her apart from them.

‘I’m fine. Sorry. Long trip.’

Her fellow traveller smiled kindly. ‘The flight can take it out of you.’ Reaching up, he popped open the overhead bin and pulled out his bag. ‘That yours?’ He pointed to the big black case that held her camera gear.

‘It is.’ She nodded her thanks as he pulled it down and passed it to her. ‘And, you’re right, it is my first time here.’

‘You’re in for a treat. I come here every year to visit my daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren, and I always leave looking forward to coming back. I just love a summery Christmas.’ Shuffling out into the aisle, he turned back round, clearly keen to chat while they waited for the door to open and set them free. ‘Are you visiting someone?’

‘My husband. Ex-husband. Well, sort of ex-husband. Mostly ex.’ The last word was followed by a bubble of hysterical laughter at the insanity of her situation.

The emotions that flashed through the man’s eyes – shock, curiosity, bewilderedness and, lastly, acceptance – had Sara pressing her lips together.

The words had sounded ridiculous the moment she spoke them. Still sounded ridiculous now. But it was an accurate description of the current state of her relationship with Fin. Not together, but together. For the next four weeks anyway. That was assuming he remembered he was to pick her up from the airport and hadn’t found himself surfing or rock climbing or Lord knows doing what else.

‘Well, er, I hope you have a good time with your, ex, er, husband.’ With a nod the man turned his back to her, his spine straightening and his shoulders squaring in a way that left no doubt he was not turning around to talk to the crazy woman he’d engaged with again.

Phew. The less chat the better.

At this point all Sara wanted was to get to a hotel. Have a long, hot shower. Scrub the plane-ness off. Then wrap herself in a fluffy bath towel and fall asleep. Bliss.

A quiet cough behind her alerted Sara that the slow shuffle off the plane had begun. Following suit, she adjusted her camera bag so it sat more comfortably on her shoulder, and began to walk the slow gamut of making a little progress towards the door while letting others in before her with polite smiles and tired ‘thank yous’.

All too soon, and nowhere near soon enough considering who was purportedly going to be waiting for her on the other side, she was through the door into a long corridor, with signs leading her to passport control, then the bag carousels, followed by the customs check to make sure she’d not brought anything illegal or prohibited into the country and, finally, the bag x-ray.

The line was long and with every second in it her nerves ramped up. Her inner voice nagged at her, telling her she’d made a mistake. That there was no way this was going to work. That Fin wasn’t sorry and he was using her for his own ends, for his own success.

Telling the little voice to shush didn’t work, neither did distracting herself with a bit of people watching. There was only one thing for it.

Pulling her mobile from her crossbody bag, she tapped in the number to her message bank, brought her mobile up to her ear and readied herself to hear the one message she had that she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Proof that at one point Fin had been sorry for the way things had ended between them. That his bringing her out here wasn’t a selfish act.

Sar, it’s Fin. But you know that.

A long pause followed.

God, I’m making a mess of this. More of a mess.

Sara waited for the huff that she knew followed. It came. As irritated sounding as ever.

I just needed to call and say I’m sorry. Truly. I’ve made a hash of everything. Of our life. Of us. I’ve handled this badly, and I need you to know how terrible I feel. How I wish I could’ve been the man you needed me to be. Honestly, I’m more sorry than you can imagine, and I will find a way to make this better. I’ll make things right.

Somehow. One day. I promise.

I- l-

Sara’s heart clenched as the word was cut off. Not by a bad connection, but by Fin.

Take care, Sar.

A rustle of noise followed, then the automatic voice of a well-spoken man asking her whether she’d like to listen to the message again or delete it.

Refusing to make a choice, she jabbed her finger at the red phone icon, and tucked her mobile away.

Had Fin found a way to make things better? Was his inviting her to join him, to take part in the competition, his way of making things right? Time would tell.

Reaching the x-ray machine she went through it without a hitch then, gripping the handle of her suitcase, she faced the door lit up by green lights proclaiming she’d reached her exit and took a deep breath, realising it was time to face her past. And her immediate future.

What the hell had she been thinking?

Inhaling once more, she told herself she was fine, that it was just a work trip – not just any work trip, but one to a beautiful location she’d never been before, that her feelings for Fin were dead and buried, that she was on a grand adventure, stepping out of her comfort zone, and everything, everything would be fine. On her exhale she propelled herself forward, through the doors and into the arrivals hall.

Auckland Airport was no Heathrow, but it wasn’t exactly quiet either.

Her gaze darted around the groups of people; some sitting, some standing, some holding signs proclaiming ‘welcome home’, or simply a surname. Around her people squealed, ran, hugged, cried. Though none of the excitement, the joy, the relief of seeing a loved one was aimed at her.

Her heart swelled, pushing against her chest, and tears prickled, hot and burning, at the back of her eyes. An overwhelming sense of homesickness enveloped her. The thought that had crept through the back of her mind slammed its way into her consciousness:

She’d made a mistake coming here.

Her place was in Eastbourne. Her home was her family. Travelling so far away from them at this time of year, when family was meant to be together, had been an act of insanity. Stupidity.

The urge to turn tail and run back through the doors, to beg someone to get her on the next flight home overcame her. Only the knowledge that to do so was impossible, that she’d be turned around and sent straight back out again, stopped her. If she really wanted to go home, she’d have to go to the airline’s counter, ask to change her flights, pay a small fortune to do so, and then pay Fin back for the cost of the ticket.

All things she could not afford to do. Her business did well, but not spur of the moment expensive-flight-home well.

Speaking of Fin…

Standing on her tiptoes, Sara scanned the room. Irritation replaced nervousness as she spotted a lack of bouncy, curly, jaw-length blond hair bounding towards her in its usual energetic, puppy-like fashion.

He’d forgotten about her.

Probably been distracted by something more interesting. A beach. A lake. Maybe even a hill if the outlook appeared interesting enough.

Typical.

Sara sighed and reminded herself she didn’t need Fin to pick her up, to take care of her. She was a grown woman; she would figure something out in the same way she always did when faced with a hiccup, a problem, or an out and out disaster. No doubt there’d be a hotel close to the airport where she could get her bearings and some sleep before calling Fin and yelling at him for being so Fin-like.

Putting her head down, she marched through the crowds, ignoring the happiness around her, determined to get out before the tears that resided, unshed, at the back of her eyes spilled forth, making a fool of her.

Sara startled as a small tap on her shoulder tore her away from her misery.

‘Sar?’

It was Fin’s voice – the depth and warmth was there, but there was a lack of confidence. Instead, she heard hesitation. Uncertainty.

Blinking back the dampness, she straightened up and turned around. Shock hitting her right in the solar plexus.

The curls had gone. Replaced with a cropped cut that emphasised the sharpness of his jawline, the angled of his cheekbones, and brought forth the azure-blue of his eyes. Or perhaps it was the depth of his tan doing that? He was so bronzed he looked like he hadn’t seen a winter since the day he walked out on her.

‘You hate my hair? You don’t have to lie. It’s different, I know.’ His palm grazed the top of his head, as a hint of pink hit his cheeks. ‘You always liked my hair long.’

Was a blush catching? Because Sara’s cheeks had flamed hot. Probably due to having Fin’s full attention, certainly not because, for a second, she’d remembered how her fingers would tangle in his hair as they made love, how she’d wake up some mornings to find one of his curls wound around her finger. How they’d sit, entwined, in the bath, and he’d let her wash then condition it when too much time spent out in the sea had threatened to turn the curls into untameable dreadlocks.

Intimate times. Beautiful times. Times when she was so sure he was hers. That she was his. That they were each other’s. Forever.

Sara shuddered. Forever was a fool’s game. So much so, she’d sworn the day she’d discovered Fin had left that she’d not be so foolish as to fall in love again. Which meant that while working with the one man she’d ever truly loved she had to keep things professional and remind herself she wasn’t doing this for him, she was doing it for her. For her career. A way to reinvigorate her creative spark.

And once the job was done, she could go back to her simple, drama-free life.

Drama-free, but also passion free. Remember how Fin changed that?

Sara shrugged the thought off and tried not to think about the moment Fin had come along and literally swept her off her feet…

Then dumped her into the cold sea while telling her the fastest way to get in to the water was to rip off the proverbial plaster. Like she’d had any intention of going for a swim, fully clothed, in late autumn.

Arse.

‘It’s fine.’ She shrugged like his change of hair was no big deal. Like her fingers weren’t tempted to follow Fin’s previous action and graze the prickly ends to see how they’d feel against her skin. ‘It’s your hair. You get to do what you want with it.’

His lips pursed as he gave her a speculative look. His uncertainty further evident by the crease appearing between his brows.

What had he expected? A hug? A kiss on the cheek? On the lips? A swoon followed by a ‘never let me go, my heart is yours, treat it as shoddily as you want’.

Pfft. As if.

The crease briefly furrowed further, then disappeared as he matched her shrug.

‘Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a debacle, and the parking not much better. Still, I’m here now, and you’re here, and that’s the main thing.’

Without asking her permission, he grabbed her suitcase and began the quick march of a man on a mission.

His usual walk. Long legs striding with purpose, a slight bob in each step, like he walked on rays of sunshine.

One that had attracted him to her after she’d finished yelling at him for dropping her into the drink. Storming up the beach after him, running to keep up, he laughing his head off as she ranted and raved and called him every other name under the sun. Eventually she’d run out of puff, which is when he turned and strode back towards her, apologised profusely, gotten down on both knees, his palms pressed together while pleading for forgiveness, then asked her out for dinner followed by the words ‘just say yes, please’.

She was a goner. His words had worked some kind of magic and saying no wasn’t an option.

Not then, and apparently not now. Not after having said yes to spending a whole month with him.

The moment she returned home she was going to use some of the money she was making from the job to book a therapist. Clearly, she needed one.

The sliding doors leading outside opened as they approached, causing a whoosh of hot air to greet her. Looking about for a heating unit of some sort she saw none, only realising the heat came from the weather rather than a machine when she came to stand by Fin on the footpath that ran the length of the airport.

The air was warm and sticky, like lying in a bath full of heated golden syrup. Not that she’d ever done such a thing, but if she did this would be how she imagined it would feel. She’d thought, being used to humidity back home, that she’d have been prepared, but already her skin was damp, and she could feel beads of sweat beginning to pepper the nape of her neck. Next thing you know they’d be trickling down her back and…

She shuddered at the idea of plane dirt and sweat mixing then rolling over her skin.

‘Cold? Did you bring a cardigan?’ Fin made to unzip her suitcase.

Sara batted his hand away. ‘No, the opposite. It’s just so hot. Like stepping into a sauna.’ She fanned herself to emphasise the point.

‘She’s warm enough. She’s got nothing on Kuala Lumpur, though. I was a walking waterfall. Great city though. Vibrant. Beautiful. You’d love it.’ He sucked his bottom lip in, then released it. ‘Or hate it. Probably hate it. You being the homebody that you are. I still can’t believe you agreed to come here.’

Sara went to retaliate, to tell him he had no idea what it was she loved or hated, but the words wouldn’t come. In this case, Fin was right. It wasn’t that she’d hate a city she’d never been to, more that she truly was a homebody. She liked her routine. And if she hadn’t had that moment of weakness when he’d called, hadn’t felt so alone, so lonely, so afraid that if she lost her love of photography, she’d have nothing at all, she’d have been home right now. Stuck in her non-sweaty, comfortable rut.

Buck up, Sara, she growled at herself. You’re about to go on a marvellous adventure in a beautiful country. You’re just tired and in need of sleep.

Sleep. She smothered a yawn at the thought of the word.

‘Anyway, we’d better get a move on, we’ve a few hours of driving ahead of us.’

Trailing after him, Sara processed what Fin had just said. Driving. A few hours. Getting a move on.

It sounded like his plan was for them to start work immediately, destroying all her ideas of heading to a hotel, showering then catching forty – or a thousand – winks, let alone relaxing.

Jogging to catch up with him, she tugged on the sleeve of his T-shirt, trying . . .