The Season of Love #SYTYCW15 #Loveinspired

The Season of Love Part 2

                                                                       
Chapter One
Hollie

Her arms acheing and her cheeks flushed, Hollie rubbed the sweat from her forehead and glared at the Christmas tree in front if her. If it could still be called a tree, it seemed to be missing most of its branches. She glanced across the cavernous space between where she was now at the bottom of the stairs, to where she and the tree needed to be in the corner of the living room.

The buzzing of the phone cut into her thoughts providing the perfect opportunity to procrastinate;

"Hello, welcome to the mad house..." See, I still have a sense of humour, Hollie thought to herself with a grimace.

"Hol's? It's Melissa."
Melissa was Hollies' best friend from school. They did everything together; they even got married together. That is until Melissa moved to Devon to open up the country hotel. The difference now of course was that Melissa was still happily married, whilst Hollie was miserably divorced.
"Hey Mel ' she kicked at the forlorn looking Christmas tree and sat cross-legged beside it, 'how's Greg?"
"He's fine, he's fine, listen, the hotel has no customers next week, I was wondering, did you want to come and stay?"
"It's a lovely offer Mel, it really is, but I just don't think that I can spend a week just me, you and Greg"
"It won't be, I'm inviting Anna and Lucinda too"
Hollie bit her lip, considering the situation. She glanced at her surroundings; took in the empty chair that used to belong to Harry. The clean spots in amongst the dust on the mantelpiece where she had tossed the photographs that contained him, or the two of them together. And she thought about having to be alone in the house every day and in bed alone every night. And suddenly she desperately needed a break.
"Okay fine, I'll come. When do you want me?"

                                                                                      *

                                                                                                        
It should be against the law to be awake this early, Hollie thought bitterly, shoving the suitcase into the boot. She could hear the muffled sounds of a baby crying a couple of houses down and a lump rose in her throat for a moment. Of course, she reminded herself with a little shake of the head, if she did have a baby, this 4am wake up call would be far too regular for her liking.

Gripping the steering wheel and turning the key, she watched as a light came on in a downstairs window of number 32, the silhouette of a young woman, a head resting on her shoulder, bobbed slowly and rhythmically around the room.
Hollie sighed heavily. If she had a baby she and Harry would still be married. But then, did she want to be married to somebody who claimed to love her, and then left the minute things became hard?

She could remember, with far more clarity than she would like, the day, the minute in fact, that they were told the news. When they found out that Hollie was the problem. The reason that they hadn't fallen pregnant after three exhausting years of trying, was all down to a fault in Hollies' reproductive system, and as soon as the fertility doctor had said those words, the love in Harry's eyes had changed to hate.

He had tried for a couple of weeks, she knew, to keep loving her. Bringing her cups of tea, letting her curl up against him on the sofa. But he became quiet and intolerant, and completely closed off to any of the options. The doctor had told them about IVF treatment with such hope in his voice that she almost wanted to tell him to start it there and then. The could have the first round for free. But, Harry pointed out in his patronising manner, there is only a ten percent chance that it will work.

Pressing the heel of her hand into her eye, Hollie quickly blinked away the memory. Just a few hours, she thought, and I'll be away from it all. With one last rueful glance at the house, she drove away, focusing, with determination on Devon.

*

Simon

Being a single parent is tough, Simon pondered peering at the scrunched, sleeping figure in the back seat. But being a parent to his daughter was almost impossible. She was thirteen going on spoilt. It was at times like these that he wished that Francesca were still here. Well, he felt that all the time. When he was cooking, running a bath. When Alison was telling him, once again, how much she hates him, and how he is ruining her life.

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Five-forty AM. He was hoping that, by taking Alison to stay with her grandparents over the festive season, she might begin to feel better. He knew she would never get over it, he just wanted her to be happy again. And, he hated to say it, but it might be good for them to have a break from one another.

Halfway, he thought peering at the navigation system. He needed a coffee. He pulled into a service station and, switching off the ignition, leaned his head against the head rest, suddenly exhausted.

"Dad?" A bleary eyed Alison was peering out of the window, stretching her skinny arms above her head.

"Hey honey,' Simon turns to look at her, her long blonde hair tangled on top of her head 'did you want some food, a bathroom break? Something to drink?"

"I think I'll use the bathroom,' she clambered out of the car, her small face illuminated and pale in the street lamp, 'I'm not hungry though...I'm sorry"

"Ok' Simon blew out a soft stream of air, 'I'm right here, I can see the bathroom from here so you can go alone if you like"

She smiled at him, a crooked, empty smile. He watched as she walked away, his little girl with her long skinny legs, and her arms wrapped around herself. She looks so much like her mother, sometimes it was hard to even look at her.

She barely ate these days. He wished that he could help her. That's what he is supposed to do as her dad and he was failing.

He sighed again. Just a couple of hours, and they would be there.

*