Escape for Christmas Read Online Free Page A

She sipped her coffee thoughtfully and began to piece a plan together. She only hoped that Cal wasn’t thinking along the same lines, because that could make life tricky.
    Angel, having finished waving, was busy tapping away on her pink iPhone.
    “Laurence,” she explained, when Gemma glanced over. “Don’t panic; I’m not tweeting pictures of us. He’s missing me and wants to know when we’ll be back.”
    Laurence texted Angel non-stop. Gemma couldn’t work out if this was romantic or just bloody irritating. In any case the iPhone chimed at regular intervals and usually caused Angel to giggle or blush. The two were certainly devoted, that was for certain, and Cal was always moaning that filming often got delayed because they kept sneaking off to snatch an hour’s nookie. There was no doubt that Angel had melted Laurence’s frosty aristocratic reserve. The episode when he’d sexted his mother by mistake had been hilarious. Not a lot ever shocked Daphne Elliott, apart from the hunting ban, and her no-nonsense reaction had been TV gold. Laurence had been red-faced for a day or two – but judging by the way Angel was now giggling and typing like crazy, he hadn’t been put off.
    Gemma sighed. The Elliotts were so loved up, and although comparisons were odious she couldn’t help examining her own relationship in the glittering light of theirs. She really needed to do something to spice up her love life – and this was where her brilliant idea could come in. Fishing her own phone out of her Seasalt bag, Gemma’s heart lifted to see a text from Cal. See! They might not be bonking each other’s brains out non-stop but they had a bond, a true understanding that went far deeper than the physical. He was thinking about her just as much as Laurence was thinking about Angel. Smiling, she opened the message.
    Don’t forget to bring back a real Cornish pasty
    Oh.
    That summed things up perfectly, didn’t it? Laurence sent Angel flirtatious and cheeky messages, whereas Cal just put in an order for supper. Something had to change and soon.
    “What’s the matter with you?” Angel asked. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered like one of Asprey’s window displays. It was the look of a woman whose partner hadn’t just texted to ask her to visit the pasty shop.
    Gemma slid the phone across the table. “You asked me how things were with Cal? I think this probably says it all.”
    Angel scanned the text and shook her head. “Come on babe, that’s just Cal. You know he loves his food. Didn’t you guys meet in a pasty shop?”
    This was true. Gemma had knocked Cal flying and his buns and sausage rolls had flown everywhere. Their mutual hatred of diets and love of cooking had certainly brought them together.
    “Things haven’t been very romantic lately,” Gemma confessed. She didn’t want to tell Angel too much but maybe her friend would have some ideas? Laurence was certainly not thinking about pasties when he texted his wife.
    Angel’s eyes widened. “Oh!”
    “I know he’s tired,” Gemma said, feeling horribly disloyal. Cal would hate to think she’d been discussing their sex life with Angel. “And I know that the Lion Lodge isn’t the most romantic setting. It’s cold and damp for a start. Maybe that puts him off?”
    “Bollocks,” said Angel sharply. “Kenniston’s bloody arctic and that doesn’t stop us. Best way to keep warm. Throw out that hot-water bottle, that’s my advice, then Cal will have to give you some action or freeze to death.”
    The thought of parting with the hot-water bottle in mid December was enough to bring Gemma out in a rash.
    “It’s fine,” she said quickly, because Angel had that look on her face, the look that meant she was cooking up an idea. Gemma knew that expression far too well. She’d seen it the day Angel had decided they should abandon London living and run away to Cornwall for the summer, and she’d seen it too when Bread and Butlers had been dreamed