Page 76 of The Christmas Invitation

Fliss felt a tight feeling in her stomach. Something wasn’t right – Tara and Harry? She turned anxiously to Kit.

He set his jaw, his expression grim as he headed towards the commotion. Fliss followed him, to see Katie raging coldly, while Tara and Harry seemed to be panicking.

‘… you humiliated me, both of you. I never want to see you again, Harry!’ Katie was saying.

Kit had said he suspected Tara was having an affair, but Fliss had never imagined … It was history repeating itself once again.

Tara and Harry were yelling at one another, but Tara broke off when she saw Kit, her mouth opening and closing. Guilt flitted across her face, like a child caught with her hand in the sweetie jar, and it was clear she knew this was serious.

Katie turned to Kit, too. ‘I’m sorry, Kit, it’s exactly what it looks like. They’ve made fools out of both of us.’ Katie walked calmly away, back towards the ballroom, Harry floundering wordlessly in her wake.

‘Kit, darling, don’t listen to her,’ Tara began, stepping towards him.

Kit held up a hand to warn her from coming any closer, and Tara stopped in her tracks.

‘I’m not interested,’ he said, and his tone was calm, perfectly controlled. ‘I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. It’s over.’

‘Darling, you don’t mean that!’

‘Oh, I mean it,’ Kit said, with feeling. ‘This isn’t the first time, is it? We’ve been here before, but this is definitely the last time.’

For a moment, Tara didn’t speak. Then she seemed to realise he was serious, and her whole demeanour changed. ‘I’ll take you to the cleaners!’ she ranted, her face twisted in rage. ‘I’ll make sure you never see your son again.’

Kit shook his head. ‘That won’t happen.’

Tara seemed to notice Fliss for the first time. ‘Is it because of her?’ she seethed, jerking her head in Fliss’s direction. ‘I knew it the second she turned up. She was all over you again, just like before. You’ve probably been screwing behind my back!’

Fliss was briefly transported back to twenty years ago when Tara had shrieked at the pair of them during the party in her house. But now, just like then, Fliss refused to be ashamed for being in love. She looked at Kit and realised that he didn’t look angry or embarrassed, he looked … lighter somehow. Free. As though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He took Fliss’s hand and smiled at her, and those small gestures meant everything. She felt as though her heart would burst.

‘Come on,’ he said, leading her away from a furious Tara. ‘Let’s go and enjoy the party before everyone starts to wonder what’s going on.’

Fliss’s pulse was racing with the adrenaline of the argument and the excitement of being at Kit’s side in public. Back in the ballroom, she saw Lord Oliver standing with Elizabeth and Bill. The three of them looked tense, but Fliss didn’t have time to reflect on that as Lord Oliver spotted her and waved her over.

‘Fliss! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’

‘You’ve found me,’ Fliss said lightly, trying to make a joke out of it, horribly aware that she had fallen in love with Lord Oliver’s son-in-law who was standing beside her.

But Neville didn’t seem to notice her unease, distracted by thoughts of his own. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. Fliss, I—’

Bill had been looking increasingly agitated since his father had begun speaking to Fliss, sweating profusely, his eyes darting from Neville to Fliss and back again. Suddenly it seemed as though he couldn’t contain himself any longer. He seemed to panic as Lord Oliver moved across to talk to Fliss, determined not to let him get out whatever he was intending to say.

‘No!’ Bill cried out, reaching out to stop his father.

Neville, moving towards Fliss, was unbalanced, and the involuntary shove from Bill was unexpected. He went sprawling backwards, his head cracking loudly on the marble flooring.

‘Neville!’ Elizabeth screamed, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside him.

There were gasps and cries from the onlookers surrounding them, who quickly moved back, forming a circle around the group.

Bill’s mouth was hanging open, unable to believe what he had just done.

Lord Oliver was slowly sitting up, helped by Elizabeth and Kit. Dazedly, he touched the back of his head, coming away with blood on his fingers.

‘Don’t move, darling,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘Just stay where you are.’

But Neville ignored her, slowly getting to his feet and pointing at his son, his face contorted in rage. ‘Get out,’ he screamed at him. ‘Get out of my sight!’