Free A Winter Flame by Milly Johnson Page B

reindeers, elves, snowmen and a ton and a half of glitter.’
    ‘How do you know that?’ gasped Eve, flicking at some loose strands which had broken free from her tied-back hair.
    ‘Because she told me,’ he said.
    Eve didn’t answer because she felt as if she might blow up if she opened her mouth. How
dare
this man whom she didn’t know from Adam tell her what her own aunt wanted. An aunt
she had known for twenty-six years as well. Who was he to do that? She needed to know a lot more about Mr Jacques Glace – or should she say Major Jack Glasshoughton?
    ‘Well, I think I’ve seen enough for now,’ said Jacques, grinning as if he was pleased at throwing a spanner into Eve’s works. ‘See you bright and early in the
morning.
Au revoir, mademoiselle,
’ he said to Violet. ‘And
au revoir, ma cherie,’
to Eve.
    Infuriated, she gave him the briefest of dismissive nods and turned her attention back to the plans whilst he walked off whistling ‘Winter Wonderland’.
    ‘That was a bit rude, you not saying goodbye to him,’ said Violet.
    ‘I don’t like him and I don’t trust him,’ said Eve. ‘When I find out who
he is,
I might be more inclined to speak civilly to him.’ She was totally
convinced that Jacques Glace was a man with more secrets than three Aunt Evelyns.

Chapter 11
    The house was freezing when Eve got in. The central-heating clock had reset itself and thought it was the middle of the night and switched itself off. It was a cold house at
the best of times, far too big for one person rattling around in it. Then again, when she and Jonathan had bought it, they’d had plans to fill it full of friends and parties – and, in
time, children.
    Eve altered the clock on the control panel, heard the rumble begin in the pipes and stood by the window, holding her hands over the hurricane glass with the large candle burning brightly inside
it. The heat touched her fingers and warmed them like a caress.
    She tried to imagine how Jonathan’s hand used to feel when it held hers and she couldn’t, however much she tried. Life had robbed her of her fiancé and if that wasn’t
enough, it whittled away at her remaining memories, stripping them of tiny details day by day. They thought they had all the time in the world to record the progress of the house renovation on the
camcorder, but they didn’t. Just one fifteen-second film bite remained on her iPod of Jonathan, in his uniform, lighting the candle in the window before he left for Helmand Province.
    Eve played it for the millionth time and smiled as he appeared on the screen, so slim and handsome in his uniform. He struck a long match and held the flame to the thick white pillar candle.
    ‘As long as this burns, Evie, remember I’m with you,’ he said, and blew a kiss at the camera. See you soon, honey. You look after yourself. And look after my candle.’
Then the film ended. Five minutes later, he was gone, and she never saw him alive again.
    The candle had been replaced many times over the five years, but she had never let that flame go out, never gave up the thought that Jonathan, wherever he was, was hers and she was his. The
candle was proof that that hadn’t changed. No one could ever come close to loving anyone the way they had loved each other. No one. So there was no point in her ever opening up her heart to
let anyone else in, was there?

Chapter 12
    Whatever Mr Jacques Glace might have decreed, Eve was on her way to work by half-past seven the next morning. She had presumed she would be the first one on site, but was wrong
by a long mile. The large gates were open and diggers were operating, and in the car park was an old Jeep with a personalized reg on it. The first five letters read J4CK G. That must have cost a
fortune, she thought, quickly followed by: I hope that money didn’t come from Aunt Evelyn.
    ‘Ah, good morning, Mademoiselle Eve,’ Jacques greeted her, as Eve pushed the door to the Portakabin open and found him