by Pamela Fudge
‘Thank you.’
I thought there was a hint of sarcasm in Stuart’s tone but, as I reminded myself, he was just one person and a very new addition to my life – for this year at least my family had to come first. I had a feeling that if he turned up to lunch, even if Alice didn’t, it would be the final straw for her when she heard about it. I wasn’t willing to take that chance.
Thankfully, the subject was dropped and we both made a determined effort to make the most of the brief time we could spend together. Stuart had come straight from work and I loved the way he looked a little rough around the edges, his curly hair overlong and unruly, the stubble on his chin more of a beard.
‘Sorry I don’t look my usual well turned out self,’ he said at one point, smoothing his plaid shirt self-consciously. ‘If I’d gone home to shower and change first we’d have had no time at all.’
‘Actually,’ smiling I leaned forward and looked deeply into his dark eyes, ‘I kind of like being out with a bit of rough for a change.’
‘Do you?’ he held my gaze with his and I could feel myself growing hotter at the clear desire he made no attempt to hide. ‘Keep looking at me like that and I shall be climbing right across this table or,’ he growled, ‘we could go back to my place right now and you could share the shower with me.’
It had been so long since anybody had so blatantly wanted me, even longer since I had wanted to throw caution to the wind and snatch what was clearly on offer and worry about the consequences later. It was Stuart who put the brakes on and I honestly didn’t know whether to be glad or really very sorry when I thought about it later.
‘Only joking,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘It wouldn’t be very special if you had to climb out of my bed in the early hours and go home to face a barrage of questions – and I do want the first time to be special for both of us. I know that’s what you want too.’
‘Mmm,’ I agreed and wondered if he realised how close I had been to snatching up my coat, grabbing his hand, and simply accepting what was on offer.
Perhaps he did, because though he kissed me until my head was spinning, before we parted to go our separate ways he was the one to break away and hold me at arm’s length to say, ‘Good night, Evie.’ I really appreciated the fact that he added, ‘Have a lovely Christmas day with your family – and I hope that Alice comes round.’
‘Thank you for being so understanding and have a good day with your parents.’
‘See you on Boxing Day,’ he called through the open window of his van, ‘and we can make up for lost time.’
I didn’t think anyone could grudge me that, I mused on the way home, but I knew without a doubt that Alice would. They were all spending that day with Owen and I had already promised him the leftover cold meats towards the buffet he was planning. She would be furious that I wasn’t there – even if she intended to spend the day ignoring me for daring to have a life – and a man – of my own.
Christmas Eve day the house became a hive of activity, as everyone bustled around polishing and cleaning, and rushing out to the shops for last minute purchases. It was only when someone asked if I was making my own stuffing that I remembered the fresh turkey had yet to be collected from the local butchers and Connor volunteered to help me to man-handle it home.
‘Can you imagine Christmas day with no turkey?’ I was laughing, but inside I was only just over the panic when I had discovered my over-sight, though the butcher had assured me he would have phoned, or even delivered it in person.
‘I’m sure you have a chicken or two in the freezer,’ Connor smiled, easy-going as ever. ‘How big is this beast, anyway? You’re still going to be eating it curried after we’ve all gone back to our various unis.’
I was just explaining that Owen would have that privilege when the elderly lady a couple of doors down said, ‘See you later. What time would you like us to come round?’
I stared at her, recalling quite definitely that she had said they wouldn’t be accepting my invitation. When Connor nudged me, with the turkey I realised, I recovered enough to say in a strangled tone, ‘Erm, any time after seven will be fine.’
‘Look forward to seeing you,’ Connor said cheerfully, and then addressing me out of the corner of his mouth, he muttered, ‘You didn’t say we were having a party.’
‘It was just meant to be drinks, and those who didn’t refuse the invitation – like the lady who just spoke to us - didn’t bother to reply. What on earth am I going to do if they all turn up?’ The panic I’d experienced over the forgotten turkey had returned with a vengeance.
‘You’re worrying about having a few neighbours over for nibbles when you used to feed an army of hungry kids at a moment’s notice?’ Connor said from behind me while I fumbled to get the key in the door, suddenly a complete bag of nerves. ‘Our friends were always dropping round uninvited and you’d rustle up a feast in no time. At least you’ve had a bit of warning.’
‘A warning about what?’ Mai demanded. ‘Don’t tell me that Alice is on her way over?’
‘No, just a few neighbours popping round tonight and Mum getting in a right tizz about it,’ he dismissed easily.
‘A party,’ Ella beamed. ‘Oh, I love a party. We’ll help you, won’t we, Mai?’
At least, I thought, surveying our efforts later – some of which I would admit only to my nearest and dearest as being the result of a quick trip to M and S and Iceland just before they closed – we had come up with a reasonable spread between us.
We were standing around, dressed in our posh frocks and sipping drinks while we waited to see if some – or indeed any – of the neighbours were going to turn up, when the doorbell rang.
Connor – who had probably taken the longest to get ready and whose effort would run to a clean t-shirt and jeans and freshly gelled hair – could be heard clattering down the stairs, called, ‘I’ll get it.’
I said comfortably, ‘That will be Arthur. At least we can count on him not to let us down.’
It was Arthur, but he wasn’t alone because a couple of neighbours I scarcely recognised followed him through and from then on there was a steady procession and soon my kitchen, and dining room come sitting room was quite crowded.
‘I know I said we wouldn’t come,’ the elderly lady confided, ‘but then I thought how unsociable we were being. It is Christmas, after all.’
‘People don’t mix any more, eh’m afraid,’ said my immediate neighbour on the other side from Arthur, ‘and we’re the worst culprits, aren’t we, Giles?’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed, appearing to savour red wine swept hastily from the bargain bin at the off-licence an hour or so earlier. ‘Problem is that commuting takes up far too much time.’
The elderly contingency were soon comfortably ensconced on the couches at the sitting room end of the room with Arthur in the centre encouraging a lively discussion, while everyone else milled around chatting, eating and drinking at the other end.
I was amazed, first that anyone had bothered to turn up after the very unpromising response to my initial invitations, and secondly by how well everyone was getting on. I felt I could relax and enjoy myself, and recognised that a huge part of the success of the evening was down to the children and their help with the preparation. I watched proudly as Mai circulated with plates of nibbles and Connor followed with a bottle in each hand offering top-ups. Ella was sitting with Arthur and chatting as animatedly to the pensioners as if she were with a bunch of her own friends.
Watching them, I thought was a great job Owen and I had done of bringing up our two families together and wished he were there to share the moment of pleasure and pride in our achievement. I suddenly really missed his tall, reassuring presence by my side and was surprised to feel a real stab of regret that this year, for the first time in fifteen years, we would be waking up in different houses on Christmas day.
Chapter Twelve
‘Well, that was a bit mad, wasn’t it?’ Connor commented when the last of my neighbours had, w
ith a great show of reluctance, headed for home with the promise that it would be their turn next time.
‘Mad is the word,’ I agreed, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘I’m not sure how I ended up with a houseful, when those I spoke to refused my invitation quite emphatically and the rest didn’t even bother to reply. I wonder what changed their minds.’
We surveyed the empty wine glasses on every available surface and the piles of dirty plates, also empty, and automatically all made a move to make a start on the clearing up. Despite the lateness of the hour we knew without saying a word that this was one time it couldn’t be left until tomorrow.
‘Just goes to show it only takes one person making an effort for things to start changing.’ Ella looked up from loading the dishwasher.
‘Yeah,’ Mai nodded, ‘and who knows, your little get-together might be the start of a nice little community. They seemed very nice people, just a bit wrapped up in their own lives. Well done, Mum.’
With four of us mucking in the work was soon done, and I had the turkey draped in bacon slices, stuffed and in the oven on a low heat before I went to bed, still basking in the children’s warm approval.
Owen was on the doorstep practically at first light and, as I let him in, I glanced hopefully over his shoulder and felt my heart plummet with disappointment when it was clear that he had come alone.
‘Merry Christmas,’ I said, kissing a cheek that had obviously just been shaved and smelled of a very pleasant cologne, ‘you’re bright and early, though not nearly early enough to catch the girls still slumbering. They’ve been up since five o’clock and have been feeling their way through the packages and guessing at the contents while they were waiting for everyone else to be here.’
It was tradition that no one opened a present until we were all together on Christmas morning and, even as very small children, they had adhered to this unspoken rule. I wondered what would happen when it dawned on them that this year it would be different.
The girls rushed to hug Owen, throwing their arms around his neck, but I didn’t miss the hopeful peeps towards the door, or the disappointment on both their faces when they realised, as I had, that he had come alone.
Another tradition was the full English breakfast that had always been served on Christmas morning. Ridiculous when you considered the huge lunch that would be following in a relatively short time, but there had been a hue and cry whenever Owen or I tried to suggest that toast and cereal would be a lot easier and far less filling.
I went to make a start and before I had turned the grilling bacon and sausages even once, Connor came in, sniffing appreciatively. I could tell that, at a glance, he had taken in the fact we were short on numbers, and held my breath, knowing that Connor of all people could be counted upon to say what everyone else was thinking.
We probably all exhaled when he merely took his seat at the table and said cheerfully, ‘If any extra bacon going could find its way onto my plate you’ll find it won’t go to waste.’
He set the pattern and the atmosphere lightened considerably and became determinedly cheerful from then on, but there was no denying that there was an elephant in the room that was hard to ignore as we tucked into the traditional breakfast and then ooh-ed and ah-ed over our gifts.
This was the first year Owen and I hadn’t pooled our resources for the bigger presents but, in spite of this, the children had done very well out of us. Mindful of their student status our gifts consisted mainly of the latest mobile phones and other technical must haves.
I had bought Owen jokey things, just as I always had done, because it didn’t feel right not to. This year he received a doorbell offering a range of tunes from God Save The Queen to the William Tell Overture (because his house only had a knocker), a kitchen timer and half a dozen eggs (because it was well-known that he couldn’t boil an egg, though he was a good cook in most other areas) and a subscription to a popular women’s magazine (because it was an open secret that he enjoyed reading any copies of mine and the girls’ periodicals when he thought we weren’t looking).
My main present was return flights to Scotland and hotel accommodation for a brief stay in the area where he grew up. Owen had been born in the highlands to older parents and, though he had lived in England most of his life, he still described himself to anyone who would listen as a Scotsman. He had never returned since his parents died some years before, but was forever saying that he intended to.
I enjoyed his pleasure in the gift, and dismissed the thought that he’d always said he would take me there and show me his boyhood haunts, by reminding myself firmly that times had changed.
The majority of the gifts I received consisted of pretty earrings, which were my weakness, and lots of stationary items for my office. There was an uncomfortable moment when it became apparent that my main gift, a joint one from them all, it appeared, was currently with the two absentees.
There was a huge effort made by those who were present not to show how annoyed they were, and by me to show even more pleasure over the thoughtful presents I had received. We all tried not to notice the sad little heap of wrapped and labelled presents still sitting under the Christmas tree.
The girls and I busied ourselves in the kitchen, clearing all signs of breakfast and making sure that lunch preparations were going according to plan. Owen and Connor were left to collect up discarded wrapping paper and deposit piles of gifts on the recipients’ beds or in corners out of the way.
‘Can one of you please check on Arthur and arrange to collect him before lunch?’ I looked up from arranging pigs-in blankets on a baking tray. ‘He’s looking forward to raising a glass of sherry with us.’
‘I’ll go,’ Owen said immediately. ‘It was icy out there first thing – I wouldn’t be surprised to see snow – and we wouldn’t want him to slip.’
‘Sherry?’ Connor stared at me. ‘Since when did we ever drink sherry?’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever tasted it,’ Ella said, and Mai added, ‘me either. Why are we having it today?’
‘I know we never drank sherry,’ I agreed, going on the say firmly, ‘but we will be today, because it used to be a tradition for Arthur and his late wife, Rose, to enjoy a glass before lunch. He still does it every year but hasn’t had anyone to raise a glass with – until now.’
‘Oh, well, sherry all round it is then,’ Connor said without hesitation and offered, ‘I can set the glasses out - tumblers or wine glasses?’
‘A tumbler full of sherry would see us all under the table,’ I laughed. ‘If I remember correctly, my parents had some very small wine glasses they used. I think you’ll find some that will suit in that cupboard there. I don’t think they’ve ever been used because sherry isn’t my tipple either – but for Arthur…’
‘For Arthur we’ll drink sherry and enjoy it,’ Mai smiled. ‘Is he bringing Gizmo?’
‘We couldn’t leave him out on Christmas day, could we?’ Ella grinned, ‘and anyway, I’ve brought him a present.’
‘Me, too,’ Mai said.
Connor looked dismayed. ‘Well, I wish you’d said before because I didn’t even think of it.’
‘Chop him up some turkey finely at lunchtime and he’ll be perfectly happy, I assure you,’ I soothed, and then realised the very dog was making his way into the room followed by Owen on the other end of his lead.
‘Where’s Arthur?’ we all asked when it became clear that he wasn’t following.
‘He’s coming a bit later,’ Owen explained, ‘after he’s Skyped his family, but I’ve said I’ll walk Gizmo for him because it’s very cold and those pavements really are icy.’
‘I’ll come.’
‘And me.’
‘Me, too.’
In no time at all I found myself alone in the house. The sudden silence was deafening and I found myself reaching to turn the radio on, thinking it funny how quickly I had become used to having the sounds of family around me again.
Everything I could do had eventually been done, th
e various items that made up Christmas lunch were either roasting, steaming or simmering and they still weren’t back, so I settled down with a cup of coffee.
Carols were playing softly on the radio, the lights were twinkling on the tree, the smell of good food filled the air and we would soon be seated around the table to enjoy it. I smiled and thought that it was very nearly perfect, despite the upheaval of the past few months it felt as if we had survived as a family – almost.
The sound of the doorbell was a relief, banishing, as it did, thoughts of Alice, who would allow her own chagrin at me, to keep her away from the rest of her family on such a special day.
‘I thought you were never coming back,’ I was saying cheerfully, as I swung the door back, to reveal Alice and Jake on the step.
‘Well, we weren’t,’ she said flatly, stepping past me with Jake following managing an apologetic expression and a shrug as he walked by.
Alice drew up short when she realised no one else was in the house and Jake cannoned into her. ‘Where is everyone?’ she demanded.
‘At the park down the road, I presume, with Gizmo – Arthur’s dog,’ I explained, adding, ‘I thought you were them coming back. You’re very welcome.’
I followed them into the big room, suddenly very conscious that the table had been set for only six, and that it would be clear we hadn’t been expecting them.
‘We thought we should be here, didn’t we, Alice?’ Jake encouraged, though it was quite obvious it was he, and not Alice, who had the thought.
‘I’m here for the sake of the others – not you,’ she said rudely, prompting Jake to protest, ‘Alice!’
‘Well, it’s true, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but if we’re not welcome.’ She had obviously spotted the table arrangements and taken umbrage, even though it was clear if she’s had her way she would be elsewhere.
‘You must know that you are all welcome in my home, anytime,’ I said quietly.
