Home For Christmas by Fiona Greene Read Free Book Online Page B

give me your mum’s details, and let me know her favourite colours, I could send one to her from you for Mother’s Day. No charge. If I start making it now, that’ll give me more than enough time to customise it for her. My mum passed not long after Ben (I still say it was a broken heart) so if I can ease her pain with you being away, I’d love to .
    The one-day series has been abysmal this year. Twenty-twenty seems to be much more popular now. I find it fascinating that in forty years we’ve gone from five-day test matches to fast and furious twenty-over matches that last three hours. I’m heading down to Bondi with friends on the Australia Day to watch the beach cricket .
    Take care and stay safe ,
    Layla .
    Tate’s gut started churning when he saw the words Mother’s Day and ramped up when he realised what Layla was planning. He didn’t bother reading it twice. One look at an expensive gift, and any personalised note Layla might write on the card and his mother would have found a new mark. He hit reply and typed furiously.
    Layla
    DO NOT, and I mean DEFINITELY DO NOT make or send anything to my mother. There is bad blood between us right now. I DO NOT want you to get involved with her. She is toxic .
    Tate .
    He stabbed send.
    ***
    ‘Do you have a minute?’ Tate cornered Walt as soon as he walked off for his break.
    ‘Sure Tate, let’s grab a coffee and we’ll head over to Support.’ Walt checked his watch. ‘Every afternoon about now, the sun comes in through the sheet of clear Perspex in the corridor and that ray of natural light is the warmest place in this camp.’
    ‘Great.’ Right now, he’d sit out in the snow if it helped. He followed Walt over to the coffee station, then across to Support.
    ‘What’s happening in your life son?’
    ‘I need some help. I’ve made a mistake and I don’t know how to fix it.’ Once he started, Tate couldn’t stop, spilling the entire story of his emails with Layla and his mother’s habit of bleeding him dry. ‘So, I’m sitting there looking at my inbox and I was thinking there’s my life, right there — the past, the present and the future. I opened the one from my mother and she’s hitting me up for money again, I lost my temper and I laid it out for her. I’m not sending any more money. Then when I saw what Layla was thinking, I snapped and I’ve ruined any chance I might have had by yelling at her in that email. And all because she was trying to be nice to my mum.’ He took a slurp of his coffee then pushed the lukewarm drink aside. ‘It sucks.’
    ‘That it does.’ Walt gazed at the weak light filtering through the tiny gap. ‘You could apologise to Layla. Explain you didn’t mean to yell.’
    Tate put his head in his hands. ‘I will. That’s the first thing I want to do. I’m not sure if she’ll listen.’
    ‘So what do you think would help?’
    ‘I don’t know. I screwed up. I panicked. I’m no good at relationships. I keep thinking if I could talk to her, explain what went wrong…then I’d know if she thinks I’m a raving loony. She’s probably shut down her email account.’
    ‘Only one way to find out.’ Walt gestured to the offices. ‘You go and get the phone number and I’ll sort out the line.’
    ‘I can call her?’ Tate’s heart thumped. ‘Now? What about regulations?’
    ‘No time like the present. You let me worry about the regulations.’ Walter checked his watch. ‘It’ll be night time, but I’m guessing she won’t be sleeping tonight anyway if she’s read your email.’ He pushed to his feet. ‘This is a step in the right direction, Tate. You have to believe that. Ready?’
    Tate tried to smile as he pulled Layla’s business card from his pocket and handed it over. ‘Ready.’
    ***
    ‘Whisky, get off me. It is way too hot to have you lying on my feet.’ The old dog lifted his head slightly, opened one eye then pancaked back onto Layla’s bare feet. ‘Whisk.’ The tone was gruff, but both she and