He was tall and broad, made all the broader by a heavy ski jacket. The hood was up and his face was half in shadow. He reached the car, still with his hands up, as though trying not to frighten off a wounded rabbit. He knelt down by the window.
Kate didn’t open it any wider, but she wiped her sleeve across the glass to clear the mist.
“Kate?” said the man, squinting through the glass. “Are you Kate?”
He pulled his hood down.
“It’s me, Richard!” he said. “From the Twelve Dates of Christmas.”
Kate peered at him through the glass. Dark hair, square jaw; minus the rugby ball, but that was to be expected.
“Richard the rugby player who stood me up?” asked Kate.
“The very same and the very sorry,” said Richard. “I’ve been trying to persuade the Twelve Dates guys to give me your number so I could call you, but it’s against their company policy.”
Kate rolled down the window another two inches and craned her neck to get a better look at him.
“It is you,” she said incredulously.
“Listen,” said Richard. “Why don’t you get into my car, which has heating, and I’ll get your car started. It’s the least I can do after shamelessly ditching our afternoon tea date.”
“You had me at heating,” said Kate. With the tartan blanket still wrapped round her, Kate extricated herself from the Mini and climbed up into Richard’s SUV.
“Do not murder me,” Kate warned him once she’d gotten settled in her seat.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Richard, smiling.
He shut the passenger door, went around to the driver’s side, and started the engine. It purred and immediately warm air began to fill the car. Richard tapped his finger to the touchscreen dashboard and the heaters began to roar.
“Sit tight and warm up,” he said. “I’ll get the jump leads and see if I can get your engine started.”
Kate was only too pleased to do as she was told, while Richard set about manhandling Kate’s car so that their bumpers were almost nose to nose. Richard’s car smelled of man: a mixture of aftershave and deodorant. It was quite intoxicating, sort of woody notes and black pepper; Kate found herself strangely aroused, but she put this down to gratitude and relief.
She watched as he attached the red and black lead clamps to her car battery. Then he doubled back around and opened the driver’s door of the SUV and switched the engine off. As he did so, a flurry of snowflakes swept into the car; they perched delicately on the seat like resting butterflies before the heat from the car disappeared them.
Richard deftly attached the remaining leads to his battery and then climbed in beside Kate and switched the engine and the heaters back on.
“I should explain,” Richard began. “My son, Nathanial, was rushed into hospital the night before our date and, I’ll be honest, I forgot all about it. It just went out of my head. I remembered about two days later, when everything had calmed back down. I called Lightning Strikes to see if I could get your number, but they couldn’t let me have it because of data protection.”
“Is he all right?” Kate asked. “Nathanial?” Kate recalled Richard’s profile: two children, a boy and a girl. Richard had joint custody with his ex-wife.
“He’s fine,” said Richard. “Thank God! He made a full recovery. It started off as an ear infection. The doctor said it was viral and would go away on its own, but then when he was at my place his temperature spiked and I . . . well, I just panicked.”
“Of course,” said Kate. “You must have been terrified.”
“I was beside myself,” said Richard. “Not very manly, I know.”
“More manly than not being worried,” said Kate. “Men seem to have this idea that showing emotion is a sign of weakness, when really, the opposite is true.”
As her bones warmed in the heat of the car, so did her feelings toward Richard.
“Huh,” said Richard. “A wise woman indeed! Anyway, they put him on some strong antibiotics and kept him in overnight. I stayed up there with him. I know I should have emailed the rep to let them know I couldn’t make it, but it just went out of my head.”
“Honestly,” said Kate. “Don’t give it a second thought. You’ve more than made up for it by rescuing me from a night in my car.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” said Richard. “I haven’t got it started yet. In fact, I’ll give it a try now.”
Richard climbed out of the SUV, and Kate watched him crunch through the snow and round to her Mini, which was accumulating quite a head of snow on its roof. She smiled to herself as Richard folded his enormous frame almost in half to crush himself into Kate’s tiny car. Next to him it looked like a child’s toy.
She heard her engine turn over a couple of times and then wheeze to a stop once more. Richard got out and came back to sit with Kate. Snow had settled on his black hair.
“We’ll give it another few minutes,” he said. “I’m not ready to give up on it yet.”
“It’s not really built for someone as big as you,” joked Kate.
“You’re not kidding,” said Richard. “I thought I was going to need a shoehorn to get me out of it!”
Kate laughed.
“Thank you for this,” she said.
“I couldn’t leave a damsel in distress,” he replied.
“How funny it was you who found me,” said Kate. “I didn’t see you in the club.”
“Nor I you,” he said. “I’m not one to go misty-eyed over coincidence, but it is a hell of a coincidence.”
Kate agreed.
“So how was your date?” she asked.
“Fine, I suppose,” said Richard.
“Do you think you’ll meet up again?” Kate asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Richard. “She’s quite a bit younger than me. We didn’t have much in common really, aside from sport. How about yours?”
“I had a great time,” said Kate. “And I would definitely like to see him again, but only as friends.”
“Oh?” said Richard. Kate could see a smile working around his mouth; she thought he looked pleased.
“They got our dates mixed up,” said Kate. “My date was gay. I’m all for giving things a fair crack of the whip, but in this case, it would be a lost cause.”
Richard laughed. “Less competition for me.”
“Who says you’re still in the race?” asked Kate.
“After a false start, I’d like to put to myself back in the running,” he said. “If that’s all right with you?”
He looked at her and Kate felt a tickle of excitement in her stomach.
“I’d like that,” she said.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the snow tumble down outside; the soothing whirr of the engine and the blowers pushing out hot air made Kate feel suddenly very sleepy. She yawned.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, as another yawn chased the first.
“It’s late,” said Richard. “I’m going to give the car another try.”
This time her Mini spluttered into life and stayed that way. Kate was almost disappointed. Richard sat, like Gulliver in her driver’s seat, revving the engine until it was clear it wasn’t going to flake out again. After a few minutes he disengaged the wires and came around and opened the passenger door of the SUV.
“Your chariot, such as it is, awaits,” he said.
“Such as it is indeed!” said Kate, allowing Richard to help her down from his monster vehicle. He smelled delightful; there was a hint of engine oil mixed in with his eau de cologne now that made her feel quite silly.
“She is small but perfectly formed,” said Kate.
“Like her owner,” said Richard with a glint in his eye.
“Well,” said Kate, holding out her hand. “Thank you very much for your help. You are officially
my hero!”
Richard took her hand in his large paw and kissed it.
“You’re more than welcome,” he said. “Listen, obviously I don’t have my phone right now, but do you think I could have your number? I’d like to take you on a belated first date.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
She leaned across the seat of the Mini and pulled a sketchpad—she never liked to be without a sketchpad—out of the glove compartment. She tore an unused page from the back and wrote her name and mobile number on it and handed it to Richard.
“I will call you,” he said.
“Make sure you do,” said Kate.
He closed her door and waited while she carefully maneuvered out of the snowy parking space. Kate looked back in her rearview mirror and was happy to see him still standing there watching as she pulled out onto the road.
The roads were better than Kate had expected. Apart from the quieter side roads, the gritting lorries had been out in force. Kate was tired, but the Mini’s heating system was nowhere as effective as the one in Richard’s SUV, and the chill kept her awake as she negotiated the icy roads.
She wished it weren’t so late; she couldn’t wait to tell Laura about meeting Richard. What were the chances? She smiled to herself. Laura is going to love this!
As Blexford hill came into view, it was clear the gritters hadn’t been there yet. There was no way the Mini would make it up in the snow. Bugger! she thought. She parked at the bottom of the hill and wrapped the tartan blanket around her shoulders like a shawl.
Her phone blipped. It was a text from Matt. The time was from much earlier in the evening; she must have been out of signal range.
Hey dancing queen, don’t forget I need the brownies first thing in the morning for that breakfast party! Hope you had a great night. M xxx
“Bugger and shit!” said Kate out loud. A passing cat meowed mournfully at her in response and padded off through the drifting snow. She’d been so engrossed in her work earlier that she’d completely forgotten Matt had asked for a double batch of brownies for the morning. The Blexford Primary PTA booked a breakfast meeting once a month at the Pear Tree and they always, always had breakfast pudding. Women after my own heart, thought Kate.
Blexford hill was steep, almost vertical steep. It was not for the fainthearted. There was a bench halfway up on either side, and with good reason. Luckily Kate’s love of hiking stood her in good stead, but even so, she was glad when she finally made it to the top of the first bend, where the incline lessened marginally enough to allow shallower breathing.
Blexford was asleep. Even Barry’s light above the pub was off. The snow fell fat and white and silent, secretly cloaking the land while it slumbered, a secret only Kate was privy to: Kate and the owls and the foxes with whom she shared this night. The world would wake to a winter wonderland, but only Kate would watch the spell being woven.
Despite the time and her tiredness, Kate slowed her pace. She let the peace of Blexford at rest soak into her as though by osmosis. The stars were like silver studs in the black leather sky. The strings of lights draped over the old fir tree blinked lazily as the snow dappled them.
Pictures began to form behind her eyes: black cotton, a snowy owl on the wing, a sleeping chocolate-box cottage with a white roof and a fox investigating the garden, clouds parting to reveal a bulbous moon and winking stars. Kate shoved her hand into her pocket. Dammit, she thought; she’d left her pocket sketchbook in her other coat. She picked up her pace. She needed to get the essence of the idea roughed out; by morning the feeling would be diluted by sleep and dreams, and the jobs she had to do for the day ahead.
With frozen fingers she negotiated the key in the lock and pushed the front door closed and leaned back against it. She sighed. The grandfather clock in the hall showed that it was almost three thirty a.m. She desperately wanted to fall into bed. But she had to get her sketches down and she had brownies to bake. With another sigh she shuffled into the kitchen and switched on the oven.
Kate fixed herself a hot chocolate and as the warmth from the oven began to seep into the room, she grabbed her sketchbook and began to draw. An hour and a half later, with the brownies cooling on the rack and her late-night scribblings safely contained for posterity, she climbed wearily into bed.
THE SIXTH DATE OF CHRISTMAS
• • • • •
Dates with Mates and Heartbreaks
The snow squeaked as it gave way under Kate’s boots. A good three inches had fallen overnight, and Kate wasn’t altogether convinced she’d be able to get her car up the hill today.
Drew had texted her to thank her for a lovely evening. He complained that his shins were aching and his hips were stiff. Kate told him about her car adventure. Drew texted her back immediately:
Why in God’s name didn’t you text me?
What could you have done? Kate texted back. Caught the train back and given me a piggyback?
That is the kind of facetious attitude that finds you sans a man! Drew wrote.
Harsh but fair, messaged Kate. Although I did get a date out of it.
Playing the damsel-in-distress card, Drew texted. How very sexist of you. Keep me posted on the man front, sexy mama. x
It was almost nine as Kate, laden with brownies, tramped through Potters Copse, a cut through from her house to the village square. She needed coffee. She’d had coffee, but she needed more. She’d set her radio alarm for eight a.m. If it hadn’t been playing “Fairytale of New York”—her favorite Christmas song—she might have thrown a shoe at it.
Someone had taken it upon themselves to decorate a hawthorn tree in the copse with baubles and fairy lights, and the idea had apparently taken off. Now several trees, including a boisterous holly bush and a rowan tree, were bejeweled in Christmas apparel, and with snow adorning the branches and blanketing the ground, the place felt enchanted. Kate expected at any moment to spy a little wooden cabin with smoke curling out of the chimney and a jolly white bearded fellow busily working within.
She would come back later and take photographs for next Christmas’s mood board. This year’s Christmas fabric had been on sale since the beginning of November. She had submitted her final designs by September; she’d been sketching in earnest since July and gathering ideas before that.
The Christmas fabric was Kate’s baby. There was a thrill to be had in each season’s designs, an organic, slow-burning accumulation of inspirations and feelings, which drove each design to fruition. But it was the Christmas fabric that really excited her; there was something about it that fed her soul and warmed her bones from within.
When she’d first started at Liberty as apprentice to the art director, she’d bombarded him with so many Christmas design ideas that he’d let her design the festive paper napkins just to shut her up. They sold like a dream and the following year, he let her loose on the fabrics.
Kate banged her snowy boots off against the boot scraper outside the café door and went in. The Pear Tree was in full Christmas decorating mode. Christmas music belted out beneath the sound of the coffee machine. Matt shouted instructions while making coffee. Carla and an excitable throng of customers stood on chairs to pin red, gold, and green baubles to the wooden ceiling beams. Matt saw Kate and smiled.
“There’s a free hot mince pie for everyone who helps with the decorations,” he told her.
“Ah,” said Kate. “That explains the enthusiasm.”
“Cappuccino?” asked Matt.
Kate shook her head. “Flat white, double shot.”
“Crikey!” said Matt. He continued, “I don’t think you’ll get your car up the hill today.”
“How did you know my car was down there?” asked Kate.
Matt grinned and tapped his nose.
“How was the date?” he asked.
Kate yawned and then yawned again immediately.
&nb
sp; “That good, huh?” said Matt.
“It’s not what you think,” said Kate, stifling yet another yawn. “The car wouldn’t start. I had to be rescued.”
“By who?” Matt asked.
“By the guy who stood me up on the first date,” said Kate.
Matt pushed the coffee across the counter toward her, and Kate handed over the brownies. She plinked three lumps of brown sugar into the strong, dark liquid and swigged gratefully.
“Bit weird,” said Matt as he carefully transferred the squidgy brownies to a large plate and handed them to the PTA chairwoman, who’d stood impatiently by like a politician waiting for an important document.
“It was, a bit,” said Kate. “But in a good way.”
She watched the chairwoman lower the plate onto the table. The PTA members pushed their breakfast plates aside and delved toward the brownies.
“What about your actual date?” asked Matt.
“What?” said Kate, watching a woman in a striped jumper slap another woman’s hand away from an end piece of brownie. “Oh, he was brilliant!” said Kate, returning her attention to Matt.
“Wow,” said Matt.
“And one hundred percent gay,” said Kate. “But I’d definitely like to see him again. But with any luck I’ll be seeing Richard, previous-no-show and now car-hero, in a more romantic capacity.”
“Success all round, then,” said Matt.
Kate smiled. A cardboard box full of all things jingle bells clattered to the floor, sending glittery objects skittering across the café.
“Need an extra pair of hands?” she asked.
Matt grimaced.
“There’s as much coffee as you can handle in it if you would,” he said.
“You can help me if you like,” said Evelyn, wrestling a pythonlike garland out of a large cardboard box. “This needs to drape over the fireplace.”
Kate helped Evelyn uncoil the greenery and secure it to the mantel shelf.
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 10
