“It’s beautiful,” she said. “How did you do it?”
“My cousin owns the pub,” said Richard. “I told him I had a lot of making up to do.” He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Kate laughed.
“Well, you’ve certainly made inroads with this,” she said.
“Unfortunately, my cousin’s repertoire only extends to beef sandwiches,” said Richard. He whipped out his phone and texted something quickly before putting it back in his pocket. “So, I’ve had to make other arrangements.”
At that moment a spotty youth in a tracksuit entered the orangery, carrying two rectangular paper parcels; he placed one on Kate’s plate and the other on Richard’s.
“Cheers, Trev,” said Richard.
The unmistakable aroma of fish and chips wafted up from the paper. Kate’s stomach growled loudly. Richard raised his eyebrows.
“No need to ask if you’re hungry,” he said.
Kate laughed.
“Bon appétit,” said Richard.
He leaned down briefly beneath the table and came back up holding a champagne bucket filled with bottles of ketchup, salt, vinegar, and tartar sauce. He plonked it on the table and Kate clapped her hands in delight.
“Brilliant.” She laughed and heaped a dollop of tartar sauce on the side of her plate.
Richard smiled warmly.
“Now,” he said. “You can have any drink you’d like from the bar. Or, a mug of tea.”
“A mug of builder’s tea, please,” said Kate.
Richard leaned back on his chair and hollered.
“Oi, Trev!”
Trev’s voice squeaked back unseen.
“Two mugs of builder’s tea, please, mate,” called Richard.
Kate’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Is Trev your cousin too?” she asked.
“Nah.” Richard laughed. “Trev’s my nephew. I’m paying him handsomely to be my slave tonight.”
Richard grinned, showing all his teeth, and there was something devilish about him that made Kate’s bones tickle.
As if the fish and chip supper and excellent muddy tea weren’t enough, Trev produced two Cornettos for pudding and then cleared the table and brought out a game of Connect Four.
“I haven’t played this in years!” said Kate.
“That’s good,” said Richard. “’Cause I hate losing.”
They played the best out of three and Kate won, so they made it the best out of five and Richard won, so Kate demanded they play best out of seven and Kate won fair and square.
“I thought you said you hadn’t played in years.” Richard laughed.
“Once a champ, always a champ,” said Kate. “You don’t lose a skill like Connect Four.”
It was late now. The roar of the pub at the end of the long corridor had dwindled to a low hum by the time the bell rang for last orders at the bar.
“I’d better go,” said Kate reluctantly.
The candles in their wine bottle holders had burned down to stubs. Kate played with the soft wax that spilled down the sides of the bottle.
Richard nodded.
“I’d better get young Trev back home to my sister,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Richard helped Kate into her coat and fixed her scarf around her neck. With his hand gently resting in the small of her back once more, he led her back along the corridors and through the quiet bar, and out into the snowy car park.
They stood by Kate’s car. The snow was little more than white dust motes in the air. Kate looked up at Richard. Her stomach bounced with butterflies. She hated this part of dates: the anticipation. Would he want to see her again? Would he want to kiss her? Did she have haddock in her teeth?
“I had a lovely evening,” said Kate. “Thank you.”
“Me too,” he said. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
After his confidence all evening and the easy way in which he had led their date, Kate was surprised to see that he looked nervous. If it was possible, this endeared him to her more.
“I’d like to see you again,” said Richard quietly.
Kate stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the lips. Richard’s arms folded around her; he pulled her close against him and kissed her, gently at first and then more urgently. Kate actually felt herself swoon.
Kate’s phone pinged loudly and they broke apart, breathless and starry-eyed. She remembered that it had been well over an hour since she last texted Laura to let her know she was still alive.
“Can I call you?” asked Richard.
“Please do,” said Kate.
They kissed again, kisses hot enough to melt the snow. This time Kate’s phone burst into a shrill ring. She extricated herself reluctantly from Richard’s embrace.
“I’ve got to take this,” said Kate. “She will call the army if I don’t respond.”
Richard laughed quietly and held up his hands in surrender.
Kate answered the phone.
“Hi, Laura, everything’s fine, can I call you back?”
“I’ve got the air, land, and sea rescue services on speed dial,” said Laura.
“Five minutes,” Kate promised.
“Sorry,” Kate said to Richard as she ended the call.
“Don’t apologize,” said Richard. “It’s good to have friends that look out for you.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her once more on the lips and then released her.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
“Make sure you do,” said Kate. “Or I’ll set my friend on you.”
Richard laughed.
“I promise,” he said.
Kate climbed into her car and wound down the window.
“I think this might be the best first date I’ve ever had,” said Kate.
“I aim to please.” Richard smiled.
Richard waited while she started the car, and she could see him still waving as she pulled out of the car park. Two minutes down the road she parked under a streetlamp and called Laura.
“Once an hour!” said Laura.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I was in the middle of a really big Connect Four contest,” Kate explained.
“Obviously,” said Laura.
“No, really,” Kate said. “It was amazing!”
Kate briefly filled Laura in on the evening’s events, and when she had satisfied her that Richard wasn’t a maniac, she carefully drove home along the snowy roads. The hill to Blexford was well salted and soon Kate was letting herself into her house and making herself a mug of cocoa for bed.
Her phone blipped and she snapped it up, thinking it might be a message from Richard, but it was only a photograph of Christmas truffles from Matt. Kate pulled her warmest walking gear out of her wardrobe and laid it out, ready for the morning.
She climbed into bed and sipped her cocoa in the dark. She relived her kiss with Richard and her stomach flipped. Maybe Richard would be the balm to soothe the longing in her heart.
* * *
• • • • •
It was freezing cold and bright blue skies as Kate wandered over the soft mossy floor in the forest clearing to meet the hiking group for the seventh date.
She’d woken up wondering whether she ought to tell Phil right away that she’d met someone. Would it be somehow immoral to pursue two men at the same time? But then she reasoned, surely out of twelve dates you were bound to meet more than one person with whom you made a connection. And she clearly recalled her nan telling her about how she used to go on lots of different dates, with a different man each night; she’d go dancing one night, to the cinema on another, maybe to a show. And if it was good enough for her nan, it was good enough for her.
The winter sun leaked through the spindly tangle of white-dusted bran
ches overhead and cast a gray-blue light on the scene. The burnt umber of ancient tree trunks stood out starkly against their pale surroundings.
People wandered about trying to identify their dates beneath hats and scarves and winter coats. Two reps stood in the middle of the group, ticking off names and helping couples find one another.
By now some of the faces were becoming familiar, and Kate waved and smiled at the people she recognized from previous dates. There were at least two people from the salsa night, a tall blond woman from the cookery class, and a couple she vaguely remembered from cocktail making.
Kate made her way toward a rep in a plum-colored puffer jacket; the woman’s teeth chattered as she tried to hold her pen steady between gloved fingers. Kate stated her name and a man in a deerstalker hat and a navy-blue parka turned round to join them.
“Kate!” he said. “There you are.” It was Phil. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it. Quite a few people have dropped out of today.”
Kate smiled.
“It would take more than a bit of snow to put me off,” she said brightly. “Hi.” She held out her gloved hand and Phil shook it, smiling.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. He had a rich Australian accent and his teeth shone white against his tanned skin.
“Have you been on holiday?” asked Kate.
Phil laughed.
“I’ve just come back from a snowboarding trip in Canada; I guess I caught the sun,” he said. “But my parents are Italian, so I really only have to look at the sun to get a tan.”
“Lucky you,” said Kate. “My skin has two states; pasty or burned.”
The male rep called the group’s attention.
“Okay, folks,” he shouted. “I think everyone who’s going to show up is here, so let’s get moving before we freeze to the spot. We’re going to do a ten-kilometer round trip, and we’ve got camps set up around the forest for refreshments. Everybody ready?”
The gaggle of hikers nodded and gave their assent. The reps went out in front to lead the way, although a few of the more competitive hikers were hot on their heels. Kate and Phil hung back and adopted a gentler pace; they both agreed they had nothing to prove. Kate could more than hold her own on a hike, and Phil could have given her ex-partner Dan a run for his money in the fitness stakes.
The snap of trampled twigs echoed through the crisp clear forest air. Brambles shivered as birds and other creatures scurried in and out of them, knocking the powdery snow from their thorny branches to dust the ground like icing sugar. Gray squirrels—not at all afraid of people—scaled tree trunks and darted to and fro across the forest path with jerky speed.
Phil was as easygoing as his looks suggested, and Kate quickly rubbed the idea of discounting him because of Richard from her head. He owned three extreme sports stores: one in his native Australia; one in Newquay; and his newest store in Surrey, which he planned to let his son manage.
“How old is your son?” asked Kate. She had imagined him to be no older than primary school age.
“He’ll be twenty-two in the spring,” he said. “He’s been studying for a leisure and tourism degree back home and when he’s done, he’s going to be my business partner.”
Phil smiled broadly. His face—already friendly and open—positively glowed when he talked about his son. Kate found herself basking in his sunny disposition and earmarking him as a possible sperm donor if she decided to go it alone.
“Wow,” said Kate. “That’s brilliant. I totally thought your son was about four years old.” She laughed.
Phil chuckled.
“Yeah,” he said. “I get that a lot. Me and his mum were really young when we had him. It didn’t work out for us as a couple, but she’s an amazing woman; she made sure I was a part of his life, even when I was being an idiot. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have the relationship I do with my son. I probably wouldn’t have the businesses either.”
“She sounds like an inspiration,” said Kate.
“Well,” he said, “you could say that. But formidable suits her better. She’s like a force of nature. She doesn’t suffer fools; you shape up or you ship out. If I didn’t want to ship out of my kid’s life, I had to shape up.”
“And she’s happy for him to move to Britain?” asked Kate.
“Happy?” Phil laughed. “She’s over the moon. It gives her an excuse to come to England with free accommodation.”
Kate didn’t find it hard to understand why Phil had never married. He was clearly in awe of his son’s mother, even after all their years apart.
Kate and Phil ambled amiably together along the forest path. They talked about their travel experiences and Kate’s brief foray into the world of extreme sports with her ex.
Phil told her about how a surfing trip to Fistral Beach when he was twenty-five was the start of a love affair between him and Cornwall. He intended to go back there to live when his son was safely ensconced in the Surrey shop. Kate pondered the potential for new fabric designs inspired by Cornwall. She’d been several times on holidays; could she envisage leaving Kent for Cornwall?
By now there was a clear demarcation around each couple in the hiking party and they walked in a queue like a primary school day trip.
“So, what made you decide now was the time to find a partner?” asked Kate.
“I could ask you the same,” said Phil.
Kate was quiet for a moment. Why was she doing this? Why did she feel the need to find a partner? The ache in her chest gave a twinge and she remembered.
“I suppose I’m tired of bouncing in and out of relationships,” said Kate. “I’ve reached the point where I’d rather be by myself than compromise. I’m giving this a go so that I can say I made the effort. And if nothing comes of it, then I will happily hang up my dating hat.”
Phil nodded sagely, a rare expression of seriousness on his face.
“You might be the most emotionally intelligent person I’ve met on this merry-go-round!”
“Thank you,” said Kate. “I think. Now you. What brings you to the Twelve Dates of Christmas?”
“The same as you, I guess,” he said. “I’ve played around, done the love-’em-and-leave-’em thing. I’m tired of it. I lead a fulfilling life. I’ve got a great kid, a great business . . . every other aspect of my life is full, but my love life is pitifully shallow. I guess I want a relationship with a lover that’s meaningful for a change.”
Kate imagined herself ripping open her puffer jacket and yelling, Take me now! I’ll be your meaningful relationship! but she kept her façade cool.
This wasn’t what she’d expected. After the excitement of last night, Kate had imagined she would find Phil to be fun but ultimately not her type. Instead she found herself drawn to Phil’s enthusiasm for life. He had a kind of Crocodile-Dundee-meets-Keanu-Reeves thing going on that made her feel like she wanted to giggle a lot and show him how she could do really good handstands.
After an hour they reached the first camp. Inside the pop-up yurt, bales of hay covered in sheepskins circled a portable fire pit. Most couples shared a bale: some looked as if they wouldn’t be leaving the warmth of the yurt unless they were forced to. Conversations were lively but muted as the reps prepared mugs of instant coffee and hot chocolate from large catering urns and passed them round.
“Here it comes again!” said a woman in a faux-fur Russian hat, pointing through the gap in the yurt flaps. Phil got to his feet and pinned the flap back to get a better look.
“Wow,” he said. “It’s really coming down.”
And it was. Big white flakes flurried around outside. Kate joined Phil and another couple at the entrance. The sky was pewter-gray; it must have been turning all morning, but Kate had been so engrossed in her conversation with Phil, she hadn’t noticed.
Hugging her mug in her gloved hands, Kate stepped out into the clearing. There wa
s something so peaceful about snow. Even the center of London was somehow subdued when it snowed.
Phil came out to join her. The forest sounds were muffled as though someone had turned the volume down. The ground was cold and hard and the snow accumulated immediately. The layering on the already dusted leaves and branches became thicker, whiter, and their dark undersides stood out in sharp relief.
Kate held out her hand and caught a snowflake. She held it close to her face and squinted. Six little points, like a star with icy frond arms. It held its glorious delicate shape for one long moment and then it was gone.
Kate wrestled her camera out from her inside pocket.
“I’ve got to get photos,” she said, squidging her mug into the snowy forest floor.
She crouched down and let the flakes settle on her black jeans, snapping pictures of the tiny miracles before they dissolved from the scant heat of her thighs. Then she moved to the tree branches and the crisp fallen leaves on the ground and the crystals that clung to the guy ropes.
She became so engrossed in her work, she forgot she wasn’t alone. It was all so beautiful, she had to capture the fleeting changes of scene. Each fresh layer altered the shapes in the microcosm.
Kate ducked under a snow-laden branch and pushed into the undergrowth. The snow was lighter here, drifting down through holes in the frosted canopy above, to rest butterfly-soft on the bracken. She leaned in close to a twisted knot in a tree trunk and focused her lens on the frosted spiral lines in the wood.
There was a snap behind her.
“Kate.”
She spun round to see Phil smiling at her. He laughed softly.
“You’ve got snowflakes in your hair,” he said.
He brushed his finger along the hair that had escaped her bobble hat.
“You are beautiful,” he said, and bent down to kiss her on the lips. Kate kissed him back. A soft, tender kiss that made her forget how cold her feet were inside her stiff walking boots.
“They’re moving on,” Phil said, standing up straight and extending his hand to her. Kate took his hand, smiling, and let him lead her out of the undergrowth and back into the clearing, where the rest of the group was gathered for the next leg of the hike.
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 16
