Not Just For Christmas: A Very..........Affair, #4

NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS

A Very Seasonal Affair

by

FAITH MORTIMER

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from the Best Selling Author of

A Very French Affair 

A Very English Affair

& On Christmas Hill

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Not Just For Christmas (A Very..........Affair, #4)

NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS | A Very Seasonal Affair

NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS | A Very Seasonal Affair | Faith Mortimer | Chapter 1 SCOTT

Chapter 2 CHLOE

Chapter 3 SCOTT

Chapter 4 CHLOE

Chapter 5 ANNABELLE

Chapter 6 CHLOE

Chapter 7 CHLOE

Chapter 8 SCOTT

Chapter 9 CHLOE

Chapter 10 CHLOE

Chapter 11 CHLOE

Chapter 12 SCOTT

Chapter 13 CHLOE

Chapter 14 CHLOE

Chapter 15 CHLOE

Chapter 16 CHLOE

Chapter 17 BENEDICT

Chapter 19 CHLOE

Chapter 20 ADELE

Chapter 21 ADELE

Chapter 22 CHLOE

Chapter 23 CHLOE

Chapter 24 ADELE

Chapter 25 CHLOE

Chapter 26 SCOTT

Chapter 27 CHLOE

Chapter 28 CHLOE

Chapter 29 SCOTT

Chapter 30 CHLOE

Chapter 31 CHLOE

Chapter 32 CHLOE

Chapter 33 SCOTT

Chapter 34 ADELE

Chapter 35 CHLOE

Chapter 36 CHLOE

Chapter 37 SCOTT

Chapter 38 CHLOE

Chapter 39 SCOTT

Chapter 40 CHLOE

Chapter 41 SCOTT

Chapter 42 MONICA

Chapter 43 CHLOE

Chapter 44 CHLOE

Chapter 45 SCOTT

Chapter 46 CHLOE

Chapter. 47 CHLOE and SCOTT

Chapter 48 CHLOE and SCOTT

About the author:

Faith Mortimer: born in Manchester, England and educated in Singapore, Malaya and Hampshire, England. Qualified as a Registered nurse and later changed careers to oversee a number of travel and sport related companies.

Faith is married with a family. Once the children attended University, she decided to join them in reading for a Science degree. Faith obtained an Honours Science degree in 2005 and believes the dedication and stamina needed to sit for a degree while in full-time employment, gave her the confidence to finish writing her first novel.

She has now written and published 14 novels and a volume of short stories. All are available as eBooks and paperbacks from your favourite online book store.

For more information about Faith and her writing please follow on Facebook. www.facebook.com/FaithMortimer.Author

http://twitter.com/FaithMortimer

Website: www.faithmortimerauthor.com

Where Faith writes a regular blog about all manner of things!

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Acknowledgements

A Big Thank You to my editor Catherine and to my husband Chris for their invaluable assistance and patient support

NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS

A Very Seasonal Affair

Copyright © Faith Mortimer 2014

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The right of Faith Mortimer to be identified as author of this work

has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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All Rights Reserved

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No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication

may be made without written permission.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents originate from the writer’s imagination.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

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Published 2014

by Topsails Charter, Southampton

NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS

A Very Seasonal Affair

Faith Mortimer

Chapter 1 SCOTT

Scott Tilney parked the long-wheelbase Land Rover in front of the house and jumped out. Grimacing, he stretched before slapping his wide-brimmed hat against his thigh to shake off the layer of ochre-coloured dust. Accumulation of grime was an occupational hazard of the Namibian desert.

The journey back had been a long, tiring one, and his mind conjured up images of a leisurely cool shower and an ice-cold beer or two. He relished his solitary forays into the wilderness but appreciated returning to home-cooking and company. He reached back into the cab and picked up the holdall and padded camera bag lying on the passenger seat.

Scott had spent two weeks ‘up country’, partly in Etosha National Park, one of the largest game reserves in Africa. An area of almost twenty-three thousand square kilometres of saline desert, savannah and woodlands, it was home to a total of a hundred and fourteen species of mammals, including rare and endangered species like the black rhino, lion, puku, oribi, black-faced impala and waterbuck.

As well as Etosha, Scott had scoured the wild and undeveloped Khaudum Game Park, a pristine area tucked away in the Kavango region. This park was rarely visited and boasted more elephants than sightseers. Scott’s interest was in photographing the elusive wild dog: the second most endangered carnivore in Africa after the Ethiopian wolf. He admired these captivating mammals, whose fur markings were as unique as a human fingerprint. With Namibia’s animal population thought to be somewhere between three and six hundred animals including fifty breeding units, he knew it was only a matter of time before the animals were completely wiped out. Scott drove through Khaudum in convoy with another 4x4 vehicle, as was the rule. The roads were appalling—usually just tracks tending to follow omurambas or dry river beds and linking one waterhole to another. But it had been worth it. He had shot some of the best photographs of wild dogs and cheetah to date, and the proof was on his camera.

A voice hailed him from the steps of the homestead. Shielding his eyes from the low slanting rays of the late afternoon sunshine, he saw that Erica had come out to welcome him home.

I thought it was you. How was the trip? Successful? She stepped forward and kissed his sunburnt cheek.

Very. I found two wild-dog families, as well as some cheetah which were unknown to the rangers.

Fantastic. Come in and tell me all. She stopped and took in his filthy attire and blistered nose. I expect you want to get cleaned up first. Go and take a shower while I pour some beers. I need to talk to you, anyway.

A shower sounds great and a beer even better. Is Bob around? He climbed up the steps towards the cool interior.

No, he’s still out with the boys. We found an injured cheetah while you were away.

Scott frowned and jerked his head up. Shot? Poachers?

No, she was caught in a trap, poor thing. Bob thinks he’s managed to save her, though. He still loathed the idea of vicious poachers in the area, and it would be a very long time before he forgave or forgot—if ever.

He nodded brusquely before continuing wearily into the main living area. He familiarised himself with his surroundings: comfortable sofas and handsome furniture made from sustainable wood stocks. Vibrant paintings depicting local scenery and, of course, wildlife adorned the mute-coloured walls. Overhead, a fan turned lazily against the turgid air. His stomach rumbled involuntarily as his nostrils caught the scent of baking coming from the kitchen.

Turning back to Erica, he gave a wan smile. Sorry for being abrupt. I’m just dog-tired and bloody hot. It’s good the cheetah’s all right, but if I recall, isn’t this the third one this year?

It is, but we know who’s responsible and Bob’s notified the police. It’s very hard on the farmers whose bottom line is tied to livestock. They have zero tolerance to losses due to predators, but in this case it was pure malice. We’re not convinced the local farmer has actually lost any animals but decided he wasn’t going to take any chances when this young and immature female wandered onto his land, so he set traps.

Scott thought about the Cheetah Conservation Fund (CCF) educational programme, which explained the role of predators in the ecosystem and taught how to farm using predator-friendly techniques. Back in the 1980s, the farmers had killed off over half the cheetah populations, and the trend continued into the 1990s when half as many again were killed. The resulting numbers were down to less than two thousand five hundred before education began.

So what’s being done? he asked. CCF?

She nodded. CCF has agreed to donate some livestock guard dogs to the family, and everything seems to have been smoothed over. Go and take your shower—you look exhausted. We’ll talk later. She gave him a gentle push in the direction of his room.

***

As he stood under the shower, Scott fought to get his emotions under control. Could he ever come to terms with Thea’s death?

He allowed the water to pour over his head, cleansing the filth and grunge from his skin and pores. If only it were so easy to rid himself of the pain of his fiancée’s death.

His thoughts turned back to those golden halcyon days, to when he and Thea had first arrived in Africa. They met back in the UK, at the Royal Institute of Science. He was interested in the questions the red-haired girl seated in the front of the hall had thrown at the guest speaker. At the end of the lecture, he wandered down to the front to ask his own questions and found the woman had the same idea. Standing next to her, surreptitiously studying her face while listening as she expanded on her ideas, he realised she possessed beauty and brains.

Outside, she turned to him with a wide grin and demanded he buy her a drink. He was taken aback by her forthrightness, but she charmed him within seconds.

I saw you gazing at me and not at Dr Fosdike and his explanations, she said, laughing at his bemused expression. She looked him up and down. Yes, you’ll do very well. So shall we go?

Never had he been swept off his feet as quickly as by this bright, bubbling and gorgeous girl, who grasped life in both hands. Within days, they were a couple and only weeks later engaged and on their way to spend the next year living in Namibia. Thea was researching for her doctorate in zoology, specialising in cheetah gene variation in relation to new emerging diseases, while Scott was gathering material and photographs for his latest manuscript on endangered species. He had decided to spend his time in Botswana before Thea burst into his usually self-absorbed and calm life, but Namibia next door fitted equally well.

Thea had known Erica and Bob from her early university days. Bob had read veterinary science, while Erica had become a veterinary theatre nurse. They both dreamt of living and working in Africa, and when the opportunity arose to run a cheetah conservation-and-research centre, they took it. It was only natural that Thea would stay with them while conducting her research.

The following few months passed at breakneck speed. Erica and Bob proved to be entertaining hosts as well as becoming close friends with Scott. Much of Thea’s time was spent out in the field with Bob, studying cheetahs or back at home in the lab. When not working on his manuscript, Scott joined them out in the bush, his heavy powerful lens always at the ready. Good photographs were essential to his books, and his publisher was eager for a new hardback book to grace his ‘stable’ of works, and Scott, of course, looked forward to receiving royalties once the book was in print.

Returning to the present, he turned off the water. He stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel round his waist. He stood by the open window in the bedroom and gazed at the garden shimmering in the heat. The mix of African vegetation was achingly beautiful, the land lush in this north-eastern part of Namibia. His lovely Thea and he had been so happy until she allowed her antipathy to poaching get the better of her judgement. He watched a colony of weaver birds as they fluttered in and out of their nests; so many and yet each seemed to know exactly which cleverly crafted home belonged to them. He sighed. Perhaps it was time he thought about leaving. She was never coming back, and it had been nearly two years since he and his mother had argued—quite long enough for both of them to bury the hatchet.

Chapter 2 CHLOE

It read blue!

Bemused, Chloe Sanderson walked from the bathroom; it seemed her head hadn’t stopped spinning ever since her visit to her GP earlier that afternoon. She peeked down at the little plastic stick she held in her trembling hands, the blue line in the protective coating wavering before her eyes. Despite what her GP had told her, she was determined to see for herself. Staring at the evidence in her hands, she knew it to be true.

I’ve felt generally off colour for nearly two months now, she had explained to Dr McIntosh, after he took her blood pressure and listened to her heart. Ever since I returned from holiday, come to think of it.

He frowned at her over his half-moon-shaped glasses, his steel-grey eyebrows almost meeting above the bridge of his nose.

Why didn’t you come and see me earlier? He pointed to the examination couch across the surgery room. Pop behind the screen and get undressed, and I’ll get my nurse in to be present while I examine you, he said, picking up his phone and pressing a button.

While he spoke to his nurse, Chloe rose from her chair and wondered what he thought was wrong with her. She was rarely ill, apart from the usual winter coughs and colds, and generally took good care of herself. She and Benedict had taken a trip to South America, and as Chloe undressed behind the screen, she asked the physician whether she might have picked up a parasite over there.

It’s always possible. We’ll take some samples before you go—blood, urine, etcetera. But in the meantime...

An hour later, Chloe still couldn’t quite take it all in. The doctor’s words kept going round and round in her head. Of course, she should have realised, but what with her hectic job, planning her holiday and everything...then she had a violent bilious attack in Ecuador and hadn’t felt herself ever since.

Goodness, whatever would Benedict say? A divorced forty-four-year-old with two children already. How would he feel about a third?

Chloe recalled how she had been feeling more and more broody. Her biological clock had certainly stepped up a gear and told her in no certain terms it was now or never. Time was paramount because she was nearer forty than thirty and knew that becoming a first-time mother over that age carried more risks—even with twenty-first-century medical care.

Nevertheless, finding out she was pregnant was an amazing shock. She had been taking contraceptives ever since she and Benedict had been living together, but if she were honest with herself, she often hungered for a baby. Now it seemed her wish was about to become true, and it was difficult to think of anything else.

But she had to tell someone. Chloe ran down the stairs in search of her phone. She needed to share her news with Benedict. That afternoon he had an important meeting with one of their largest clients. She knew it had been scheduled for just after one p.m., so he should have finished. Pausing, she thought about what to say and decided that blurting it out over the phone was a definite no-no. Although there was no doubt he would love being a father again, Chloe knew his first reaction would be one of acute alarm.

Hi, darling. I was going to ring you once I was free. He sounded jumpy, and with her fingers crossed, she asked how the meeting had gone. It was a deal which could have gone either way.

Fine. It seems the contract’s ours. The Proviso MD played around with prices at first and had me wondering how many other catering companies they were playing off against each other, but we got there in the end. It’ll mean some reorganisation for you and more working hours, but the rewards will be immense. As an events company, Proviso has some important contacts. Once our name gets around, I foresee more work coming our way.

That’s wonderful. Well done! Now we have a definite confirmation on the contract, we can celebrate. Earlier, I thought that if your news was good, we’d eat in and crack open a bottle of champagne. We’ve both had a busy week, and just our own company might be nicer and more relaxing than eating out. You need to chill and I want to talk to you. What do you think? Chloe still felt a little breathless and confused. She ran the practical catering side of the business she and Benedict owned between them, and her week was usually full. How on earth would she manage with a baby? She knew Benedict would insist she return to work as soon as possible after the birth. Already the idea of employing a nanny held little appeal.

There were a couple of seconds before he replied, and this time his voice sounded apologetic and husky with emotion.

I’m sorry, darling but something’s cropped up. Annabelle’s promised to take the girls up to the cottage for the weekend. They’re going to a party. Only, the thing is, she’s sprained her wrist and can’t drive. She asked me to do the honours yesterday and what with Proviso, I completely forgot to mention it to you. Apparently, she’s already told the girls I’m driving them and they’re excited. Sorry.

Chloe immediately felt choked with disappointment. Not again! Annabelle certainly chose her moments. Just lately, she was making sure Benedict fulfilled his role of father to a tee. When he and Chloe first got together, she didn’t seem so worried, but ever since her own relationship with Shaun, her new partner, had foundered she had been turning more and more to Benedict. Drat the woman! Chloe sighed.

But we agreed. I’m sorry if you think I’m being unreasonable, but this is the third time in as many weeks some sort of emergency’s cropped up. I was looking forward to spending a weekend alone together...our first for ages. So I take it you’re staying over?

"I know, I know, and nobody’s more disappointed than I am. But I am the girls’ father. I guess I’ll have to stay. What did you want to talk to me about, by the way?"

Chloe paused for a few seconds. No, there was no way she could tell him over the phone. Besides, she wanted his complete attention and not be faced with competition from his two daughters, no matter how sweet they were.

It’s all right, it can wait. You drive them where they need to go. I’ll see you when you return.

Sweetheart, you make me feel so bad.

No, really, it’s okay. Hannah and Kirsty won’t be young for ever, and before you know it, they’ll be young women and you’ll regret not having spent more time with them. I’m the one who’s being unreasonable.

I’ll come home as soon as I can, he promised.

After the call, Chloe threw her mobile down in disgust. Despite what she had just said, she didn’t consider her request at all unreasonable. The truth was, Annabelle had been pushing more and more for Benedict to spend more time with the eight-year-old twin girls. Looking back, she realised it had been a sneaky move over the last six months or so, and then, Annabelle had upped the pace in moving in on Benedict.

Chloe knew that the court had awarded Benedict restricted hours when he could have the girls with him: every other weekend with one day mid-week when the girls weren’t at school. The weekend visits had increased as well as the odd days in most weeks. Annabelle always managed to find a good reason. What made it worse for Chloe was that she knew Benedict enjoyed the extra hours he spent with them, and if she felt disgruntled and said anything, it made her seem like she was jealous and unfeeling.

She made a cup of tea and drank it, gazing out of the kitchen window. She would just have to be patient. Benedict could be told on Sunday afternoon. For the next couple of days, her pregnancy would be her own special secret. She would have loved to tell her brother and sister-in-law, but Benedict had a right to know first.

She spent the next half hour or so amusing herself by gazing at baby sites on the Internet. She had a lot to learn and there was no time like the present. Just as she finished reading an article on natural childbirth, she recognised the sound of Benedict’s car drawing up outside and rushed through to meet him.

He closed the door behind him and took her in his arms. I couldn’t go away without seeing you for a few minutes or so, now could I? Besides I want to know what you wanted to tell me. Something in your voice made it seem compelling.

Chapter 3 SCOTT

Scott tapped on the door to his mother’s hospital room before poking his head round. Are you feeling up to receiving visitors?

Come in, come in.

He walked further into the shaded room, closing the door behind him and went to stand by to the window. It’s so dark in here, I wondered if you were still sleeping.

The elderly woman struggled into a sitting position and smoothed the sheet across her middle. I’ve nothing better to do than sleep. Can you draw back the curtains, please? The nurses keep the room dim, as they always think I should have more rest than I need. Scott, I’m longing to come home.

"You know that’s not possible until you’ve finished your current treatment