Christmas-Eve Baby Read Free

don’t think I’ll be very good company.’
    ‘I’ll risk it,’ she said, holding her breath. ‘We could always get fish and chips.’
    For a moment he just sat there, the engine idling, and then he gave a ragged laugh and cut the engine. ‘Go on, then. Go and buy them. Here—take this. I’ll wait here.’ He handed her a twenty-pound note, and she ran over the road to the chippy. It was deserted, because everyone was at the barbeque, so she was served quickly. She put the change into the Penhally Bay Independent Lifeboat Association collecting tin on the counter and ran back to Ben.
    He was staring sightlessly out to sea, his eyes fixed on the horizon, and she slid into the seat beside him and gave him a smile. ‘I gave your change to the PBILA,’ she told him, and he gave a crooked smile.
    ‘How appropriate. Right, where to?’
    ‘Somewhere quiet?’
    He grinned. ‘I know just the place.’ Starting the engine again, he nosed out into the crowd, drove slowly down Harbour Road and then, as they left the crowds behind, he dropped the clutch and shot up out of the village along the coast road with a glorious, throaty roar. The sun was low over the sea, but it was behind them and once past the caravan park he hit the accelerator, the car hugging the curves and dips of the road as if it were on rails.
    She gathered her long, tumbled curls in one hand and turned to him, raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the engine and the rush of air. ‘So where are we going?’ she yelled.
    ‘There’s a viewpoint along here, and we can catch the sunset. It’s my favourite place,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the road, and she nodded.
    ‘Good.’
    And at least no one from Penhally Bay would be there. They were all safely at the barbeque. She settled back in the seat, and waited for the sick feeling in her stomach to settle.
     
    ‘That was fabulous.’
    He crumpled up the paper and wiped his hands on it. ‘It was—and probably no more unhealthy than a barbeque, even if it was the most expensive fish and chips I’ve ever had,’ he added pointedly.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said feeling a flicker of guilt, but he just grinned.
    ‘Don’t be. Fancy a stroll?’
    ‘In these shoes?’ She laughed.
    ‘You’d be all right in bare feet on the sand.’
    ‘But I have to get there, and I won’t get down those steps in these heels.’
    ‘I’ll carry you,’ he said.
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she told him, but she took her shoes off anyway and started to pick her way over the stones to the edge of the car park, wincing and yelping under her breath.
    ‘Idiot,’ he said mildly, and, scooping her into his arms and trying not to think too much about the feel of her warm, firm body against his chest, he carried her down the steps and set her on her feet on the sand. ‘There,’ he said, and he heeled off his shoes, stripped off his socks and rolled his trouser legs up to the knee. ‘Last one in the water’s a sissy,’ he said, and sprinted towards the sea.
    She couldn’t resist it. He’d known she wouldn’t be able to, and he let her catch him, grabbing her hand at the last moment and running with her into the surf.
    Just ankle deep, and so early in the year that was enough, but it brought colour to her cheeks and laughter to her brown eyes, and then the laughter faded and she lifted her hand and rested it against his cheek.
    ‘Ben, I’m so sorry about my father…’
    He turned his head and kissed her palm gently. ‘Don’t be. It’s my fault. I suspected he’d be there and I should have stayed away.’
    ‘But he was so rude to you.’
    ‘I can cope with it. It’s my own fault, but I hoped you’dbe there, and you were, so let’s forget about your father and just enjoy being together. Come on, let’s walk for a bit.’
    It was like something out of a film set. They were strolling beside the water, their hands still linked, and it was wonderful—romantic, peaceful, with the sun’s last rays gilding