Escape for Christmas by Ruth Saberton

be more. So many more, I promise. Please come out, darlin’. I can’t bear it when you’re sad.”
    The loo roll was disintegrating in her hands and her bum was getting numb on the unforgiving toilet lid. Suddenly, being locked away from Cal didn’t seem such a great idea.
    “Listen, Gem,” he was saying earnestly, “I know it’s been flat out and I know that I’ve probably spent far too much time working, but believe me, darlin’, I’m doing all this for us. Building the bakery and the brand is all part of the groundwork for our future. Even that daft TV show’s just another step towards a better life for you and me. Sure, and wasn’t it you who told me how much help the telly coverage would be for the business when we signed up for the first series?”
    He was right. Gemma had been the driving force behind their signing with Seaside Rock,but this had been back when she’d still thought she wanted to be an actress and before she’d truly understood just how intrusive Cal’s kind of fame could be. Nothing could ever prepare you for the devouring curiosity of the public or the exhaustion of always having to be on your guard. A fat day, a spot, an argument, a trip out without make-up – all these things were fodder for discussion or a story on a slow news day. Gemma still cringed when she recalled how she’d been papped pulling her skirt away from her knickers.
    “I did try and warn you,” he said gently. “Reality TV is not your friend, Gemma, and there’s feck-all real about it either.”
    In fairness to Cal, he had tried to explain that a season of starring in reality TV could be very long indeed. It was acting without a script, he’d said, and Seaside Rock would want their money’s worth. But Gemma – buoyed by Angel’s enthusiasm and, she had to admit, tempted by the money – hadn’t really listened.
    “But you didn’t have to sign for the second series,” she said now, hating the whining note that was creeping into her voice. “You knew how I felt.”
    “I did, Gem,” Cal insisted. He was starting to sound frustrated now. The ringlets would have been tugged into a crazy bird’s nest. “I know it’s been a mad rollercoaster of a journey, but I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with you. Come on, we both knew this year was going to be insane, but it’s going to put us in a much stronger position. All we have to do is just ride it out and I promise you that next year everything will be different. We’ve got to get to the New Year and I swear on my mammy’s life and the holy cross that everything will make sense.”
    Cal adored Mammy South. He was also a good Catholic boy at heart and wouldn’t make such a promise unless he really meant it.
    “You really won’t sign again in January?”
    “I swear I won’t,” said Cal. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Sure, and it’s nearly Christmas already, and then it’s only a few days until the New Year. Bear with me, Gemma; we’re almost there, so. This is my last ever brush with telly. After the first of January I promise that everything will look totally different. It’ll be just you and me and the bread rolls!”
    That was all Gemma needed to hear. She slid back the bolt from the door and tumbled into Cal’s arms.
    “You daft eejit,” he whispered tenderly, putting his hands on either side of her face and rubbing his nose against hers. “Never hide away from me again, OK?”
    Gemma, gazing into his big Malteser-brown eyes, felt her anger melt away like butter on a hot jacket potato.
    “OK.” She rubbed his nose right back and then Cal’s arms were around her, pulling her tightly against his warm, cuddly body. She nestled into his chest, loving the way he felt so right, so safe and so utterly, utterly him. When he tilted her chin up and kissed her with his lovely smiley Cal mouth, everything was right with the world again.
    “Now then, Santa,” said Cal, a naughty twinkle in his eye as he beamed down at her. “I’ve been