Christmas with Her Ex(42)

As long as Winsome was okay, this had worked out well. He was glad to get away.

After he’d watched his grandmother helped aboard one of the big silver coaches he’d refused to look for any other people he might know. Specifically one who had labelled him a controlling sexist. No wonder she hadn’t married him if she thought that. All he’d ever wanted to do was look after her. What was so heinous about that?

The helicopter drew closer and he cast a last glance across to the coaches. Which one was she on?

No! He was glad he could remove himself from the temptation to do something as monumentally stupid as he’d done all those years ago. It was a good thing.

Ten minutes later, as the helicopter took off he couldn’t help but glance down. The train looked like a toy. As did the coaches as they began to pull out of the car park. He glanced ahead and the sky was grey and featureless. Not unlike his life stretching out before him.





CHAPTER TWELVE



KELSIE TURNED AWAY, brushed away the regret that she’d probably never see any of these people again, and made darned sure she was on a different coach from the Blacks. It was time to move on.

There was a brief hold-up, their hostess informed them all, while a helicopter took one of the passengers away.

Kelsie settled into her seat and glanced out the window as she waited to see what would transpire in the crossing. She watched a helicopter take off and wished she could get on her plane now and head back home.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect of the next hour but it hadn’t been coach travel and three border controls as well as immigration control, where they all needed to actually get out of the coaches, troop through the customs and immigration, and have their passports stamped.

It became less glamorous by the second as once everyone was back on board their driver navigated the maze of transit lanes and down into a train shell that encapsulated their coach for the trip under the Channel.

Kelsie felt a tiny twinge of claustrophobia as their compartment was sealed and the coach engine switched off.

The hostess had handed out bottles of cold water and then picked up the microphone. ‘All lights and air will be shut down now and just letting you know it can get hot if there are delays.’

There were groans from the occupants and she hastened on. ‘Usually it only takes about thirty-five minutes once we’ve started.’

‘But we haven’t started yet,’ the coach driver said cheerfully. Then proceeded to share. ‘We’ll be in the tunnel, which is about forty metres under the Channel. Coaches and vans travel in one type of railway carrier and cars have a double-decker carrier, while lorries have carriers with open sides.’ He looked up into the rear-view mirror so he could watch the faces. ‘And there is an emergency tunnel running parallel to our tunnel in case of fire.’

Kelsie shuddered and decided she’d fly across if she ever came to France again.

Half an hour later, without drama of any kind, they popped out the other end into the English countryside, and she even spotted the famous white horse of Dover on the hillside as their coach zipped them towards Folkestone.

When they pulled up in the station, despite the English sleet a brass band jazzed them onto their new train and the mood, flattened by the officialdom and dimness of the tunnel, lifted again as the hostesses pointed out a printed list on the station wall that allocated their carriage by name.

Kelsie was destined for ‘Audrey’, and she could see the white dining cars laden with crockery as she spotted the beautiful Pullman carriage that would carry her to London—on her own. Peacefully. Without Connor Black.

Except that Winsome found her. At least there was no Connor cruising along behind her, though she couldn’t help a glance back to see if he was there.

‘May I join you? I’m all alone. Connor was called away.’ Winsome was puffing a little and Kelsie thought she looked a little pale. ‘And I haven’t got your address. Or given you mine.’

There’d been a reason for that. Then the end of the sentence clicked in. She blinked. ‘Called away? From the station?’

‘No. From Calais. In the helicopter. One of his patients may have gone into labour.’

‘Oh?’ Kelsie would have taken more notice if she’d known it had been Connor soaring off. She didn’t envy him the crossing in this weather. Served him right. Black widow indeed.

‘Apparently his patient rang him very early this morning and after brunch, so he thought he might need to go. It wasn’t too much of a shock when he abandoned me.’

He’d abandoned me, too, Kelsie thought, or maybe I abandoned him? But she didn’t say it. At least he’d told his grandmother he was going, but, then, his gran had probably been nicer to him than she’d been.