Author's note: Thanks for your comments. Glad to know there are still readers out there, and that you are enjoying the story. This chapter is a bit cheesy, but hey, the way this year was, we all need a bit of make believe.
I might be back for New Year... until then, Merry Christmas!
Tommy saw the envelope before he had unlocked the car. He opened the door, pulled it out and tore it open. A lovely picture of a Christmas tree festooned in little red, heart-shaped lights greeted him. Barbara left me a Christmas card. He opened it and went numb.
I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, I love you. Haven't we played this game long enough? Let's meet just before midnight on Christmas Eve by the fountain at Piccadilly.
"Oh, Barbara."
Tommy re-read the message. She loved him. His heart skipped around his chest like a six-year-old in a school playground... Until the bogeyman appeared. Barbara must have seen the pantyhose. She had known he had seen her and she had fled, mortified that he was witnessed her... disrobing. What the hell do I do now? Can I fix this?
He sat in the car and dialled her number. He hadn't really expected her to answer, but he was still disappointed although slightly relieved when it when to voicemail. Some things a man must do face-to-face. He started his engine and pulled into the traffic and headed for Chalk Farm.
Sitting on her front step. Tommy dialled her number again. He had lost count of the times he had rung, but it was clear that she wasn't coming home anytime soon. He bit his lip. Where the hell are you?
Being here wasn't achieving anything. He had only one option. He unlocked his phone and typed a message.
"Next stop North Acton. North Acton next stop."
As Barbara listened to the artificially cheery recorded voice, an idea formed. When the train's brakes squealed as the train slowed, she stood and pushed her way through the crowd of dank woolly overcoats and slippery puffer jackets to the door. Her old stop. Her old home.
Her feet were heavy as she climbed the stairs. Memories flooded into her mind pushing Tommy to the periphery. Terry. Mum. Her disengaged father. Happiness, tragedy and desolation.
Everywhere around her signs screamed out about joy and love and family. Happy this. Merry that. Christmas didn't cater for the lonely. People wanted to believe that happiness existed and that they were part of it. Buying gifts no one really needed. Drinking to excess. It was all part of the Christmas conspiracy to convince people they had good lives. She could see through it, and also the lie that love made the world a better place. It didn't. Love meant loss, and loss was pain.
Her feet remembered the way, even if her mind was elsewhere. They stopped in front of her old family home. House. It was a house, not a home. Barbara chided her mind for even suggesting it bore any resemblance to a loving home. In the window, there was an oversized tree pushing against the glass. The walls were still the hideous white he had chosen. Tommy. He hadn't taken long to sneak back into the front of her mind.
Just then her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the screen, but she already knew who it would be. Think of the devil. Sure enough, it was her boss and there were four other missed calls from him. It disappeared to voicemail. A few seconds later it beeped. the message flashed on the screen. Meet me. I'll be there.
Where?
Barbara shook her head. She would worry about him later. She stared in the window. The house was happy. She could sense it. People inside loved it and loved each other. She smiled and turned to walk away.
"Can I help you?"
Barbara turned back. A young woman stood with a wriggling toddler in her arms and a small boy about three sucking on a chocolate Santa stood in the open doorway. "No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare into your house. It... I grew up here."
The woman smiled. "Ms Havers?" Barbara nodded and the woman smiled. "We bought it from you. We love it. Would you like to come in and see it?"
Barbara shook her head but smiled - a genuine, heartfelt smile. "No, but thank you for offering. I... I just wanted to see it was loved."
"Oh, it is. Very much. Have a wonderful Christmas."
Barbara waved at the little boy. "Same to you." She turned and hurried back to the station.
The train trip back to the city was a blur, and she almost missed her connection at Bank. As she wound through the maze of tunnels and stairs to take her from the Central to Northern Lines, her thoughts turned back to Tommy. Bastard! Spying on me. Seeing me undress and then pretending nothing had happened. I've arrested men for less than that. Voyeurs. Rock spiders.
She also knew that it was likely that he had found her shoes, rushed into the bushes looking for her and only found her discarded pantyhose and so shoved them in his pocket. But... but, but, but... would a policeman pick up evidence if he thought a crime had been committed? But would he think it was a crime? Would I have thought that a woman fleeing from the party might be raped and murdered in the bushes? And there was no body, just pantyhose.
I'm being unreasonable.
She reached the platform for her train. The lights of the last one were just visible down the tunnel. She leant against the platform wall allowing her back to curl into the curve. She opened her bag to look for something to eat. What's that? A white envelope was sitting on the top. She pulled it out and opened it. Red baubles on a Christmas tree. That'd be his style, hiding it when she wasn't looking instead of being open with her. She opened it and froze. She glanced at her watch. It was only 5 pm. She had seven hours to decide what to do.
Christmas Eve 11:45 pm Picadilly Circus
At 6'1", Lynley was tall enough to see over most crowds, but not tonight. People were being piggy-backed around the streets. Others had streamers and balloons and those annoying whistles that come out at you like the tongue of a chameleon. Most revellers were drifting out of the nightclubs and towards the tube stations and bus stops before public transport slowed to a trickle after midnight. Anyone would think it was New Year's Eve, not Christmas.
By the fountain, at least three couples were in danger of tumbling backwards into the freezing water as they posed for their friends to take shots of them kissing. Worse were the couple trying to take selfies while balancing on the lip. One. Two. Three. Splash. Expletives rained down as they scrambled free.
"Merry Christmas." A huge drunken Santa enfolded Tommy in a bear hug.
"Yes, thank you. Merry Christmas."
He edged his way to the fountain. Which side would Barbara be on? Would she come from the Leicester Square end off the train? If she hadn't been home, she could come from anywhere. He decided to keep circling until he found her, or, as he feared, everyone faded away and he was left lovelorn and mocked by Eros.
Winston stood in the shadows under the arches of the souvenir shop. His boss was pacing around the fountain like an actor in a play overemphasising each movement to convey tension and uncertainty. Only Winston knew it wasn't acting, Lynley was genuinely nervous and out of his depth. Oh, I'm so dead.
He scanned the area for Barbara. Nothing.
At 11.52 pm he saw her walking up Regent Street purposefully towards the fountain. If Lynley was black, Barbara was white. She had a sure gait and was holding her head aloft. Anger? No, Winston didn't see that. It was as if she had discovered her worth. What the hell was going on?
As she approached, Barbara spotted Tommy as he rounded the fountain on the first ledge of steps. His gaze was directed towards Leicester Square which made sense if he thought she was coming from her flat.
But she wasn't. Barbara had spent the evening wandering the city debating the merits of meeting him. In the end, she had stood on Horseguards Parade Ground and tossed a coin. Heads, she'd turn up. Tails, she would run. She had no intention of abiding by the result, but she knew that when the coin was in the air she would learn which side she truly wanted it to land up.
Heads.
It had never been in doubt, not really. Even the coin landed that way. This was her one shot at... not happiness, that was too much to ask, but the truth. She needed to know if Tommy loved her.
It had crossed her mind that Winston was behind this or even Stuart. It could be a cruel joke on her, but she doubted it was meant that way. If Tommy turned up, then regardless of who sent it, they both wanted it. Wanted each other. And he was here.
Tommy took a deep breath and unconsciously held it as Barbara walked towards him. She was here, but she looked too assured. His stomach fell. If she had sent the valentine, she'd be twitchy, nervous, and ready to flee if he even looked at her. Barbara hadn't written the valentine, but he was certain she had received one. He was equally certain she was not going to fall into his arms and ignore his indiscretion in the woods. Why did I pick up those stockings?
"I can explain," he blurted out when she reached the steps.
"So you did send the valentine?" Barbara wobbled as if her legs were about to dissolve.
Lynley reached out his hand. To his surprise, she took it without argument and allowed him to guide her down onto the step. "No, I smell Stuart Lafferty in that."
Barbara nodded. "Or Winston."
"Yes."
Barbara folded her arms. "What can you explain? I think you should start with why my pantyhose were in your suit pocket."
Straight to the chase. "Argh, that."
"Yes, that. Well?"
Tommy still had her hand. He began stroking it. "I didn't understand what I had said to make you leave."
"Nothing." Her hand went rigid between his fingers. "Not everything is about you."
"So it seems. Anyway, I found your shoes and one of the officers said you had run into the woods. I was worried. I followed you."
Barbara nodded. "I would have done that too. How much did you see?"
Tommy felt his face flush. "Enough."
"How much?"
"Everything."
"I see. I didn't do anything wrong."
"No. I wasn't suggesting that. I… I should have moved away."
"Why didn't you?"
Tommy swallowed. "I thought you might hear me and be upset."
"And?"
"And?" He echoed wondering what she meant.
"The whole truth and nothing but the truth. Sound familiar?"
Ah… confession time. "I was mesmerised."
Barbara looked across and frowned. "By what?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Of course. You have no idea do you?" Tommy smiled. "Why did you come tonight?"
"Don't change the subject."
"Then let me tell you why I'm here. It's because the valentine was true." He paused, licked his lips and coughed softly. "I do love you."
"I figured that when I saw you."
Tommy felt a stab of disappointment. "Okay," he said a little harshly, "so why are you here?"
"I needed to know if… you loved me as much as I love you."
Tommy smiled. "You love me?"
"I think you're the only one who didn't know that."
Lynley shuffled closer and put his arm behind Barbara. "So what should we do about it?"
Barbara shrugged. "Dunno. There are a few options."
"Mmm?"
"We could forget about it all and stake Winston and Stuart out over an ants nest."
"No, although the ants nest has some appeal. Or?"
"We could carry on as normal."
"No. Won't work."
"No, I don't think it would either. So what's your bright idea?"
Tommy raked his fingers slowly through his hair. "This." He leant forward and kissed her tentatively.
"Mmm. That could work," she said, "but…"
"What?"
"I thought you'd be a bit better at it." She laughed as his eyebrow arched.
"Challenge accepted."
Their foreheads rested on each other as they struggled for air. In the background, Big Ben rang in Christmas Day. "Still inadequate?" he asked.
"Nuh-uh. That was…"
Tommy didn't wait for her answer. "Eternal, just like our love."
Barbara hit him on the arm. "You old romantic."
"I don't think I've ever been accused of that before."
"Being old?"
"No! Being romantic, but I'm willing to explore everything with you. Always, if you'll have me."
"Let's start with your bedroom."
Tommy's eyes bulged before he grinned at her in the widest smile she had ever seen. "I'm sure you'll find me… satisfactory."
"I have no doubt about that at all." She confirmed her words with a soft squeeze of the Lynley family jewels.
"Where have you been hiding this bold side of you, Barbara?"
"I know what I want. Is it too much for you?"
He shook his head. "Not at all."
She stood. "Good. Take me home, and I'll tell you about my life-changing afternoon."
Merry Christmas everyone.
