Magic Under the Mistletoe

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘It’s time to cut ties with Peter and Gwen, Mum. That door is now firmly shut and I’m moving on.’

  A few seconds of silence tell me that Mum wasn’t expecting such a seemingly positive and straightforward result.

  ‘Well, that’s great news. Dad and I simply wanted to do what was best for you this Christmas, Leesa. It’s been a rough time for you, honey, and we rather hoped you’d eventually find the strength to cut the ties. But it’s usually best to let them unravel gradually. We just don’t want you walking away with any regrets, that’s all.’

  She sounds a little hesitant, as if it’s too good to be true. I know Gwen will get in touch with her very soon and I need Mum to say the right thing, convincingly.

  Lifting the corners of my mouth to help give my voice a little lift, I say the words I know she’s longing to hear. ‘There’s someone new in my life,’ I announce, sounding surprisingly positive and much brighter than I feel right now.

  There’s a brief pause.

  ‘Well, that’s an unexpected surprise! Why on earth didn’t you tell us before we left?’

  Oh no, now she sounds really excited. In my haste to make it sound real, it came out as more of a confession. Mum might think this is something I’ve been sitting on for a while.

  ‘It’s early days, Mum. It’s the man I’ve been working for in Australia. His name is Cary. Cary Anderson.’

  ‘Really?’ A note of caution is creeping in. ‘Both you and Jeff have to travel thousands of miles to find that interesting someone? What a coincidence. It must be something in the water.’

  She gives a nervous laugh and I know that’s not a good sign.

  ‘You’ll like Cary, Mum. He’s a great guy and I’m staying at his grandma’s house at the moment.’

  That – of course – is a game-changer.

  ‘Really? Oh, that’s truly wonderful news,’ she gushes and my heart sinks forlornly. Telling someone I love what they want to hear instead of the truth isn’t my defining moment as a dutiful daughter.

  ‘I can’t believe Dad and I are so far away and missing all of the excitement! Perhaps you can bring him to our house for New Year,’ Mum adds.

  My palms are beginning to sweat.

  ‘Well, I’ve been invited back here to a family New Year’s Eve party, but we’ll work something out, I promise.’

  ‘I can’t wait to tell Dad!’

  This is a quick fix and at some point I will be breaking bad news again. But I refuse to spoil their entire Christmas and I want their last few days in the sun to be fun.

  ‘I must go. Someone just knocked on my bedroom door. Love to you both and happy Boxing Day!’

  I don’t think I could have kept up that conversation for much longer without blurting out the truth and I grimace. However, a second tap on the door sees me plastering on a smile.

  ‘Come in,’ I call out and Cary’s head appears around the door. ‘Is it okay to come in?’ He looks uncomfortable for some reason.

  ‘Of course. I was just speaking to my mum and broke the news about New Year’s Eve.’ I inform him, holding up my phone. ‘Smile!’

  It’s a good shot of him, the hint of surprise tinged with amusement means it looks very natural.

  ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘Every self-respecting couple have photos of each other on their phones. You’d better take one of me, while we remember.’

  He pulls his phone from his pocket and I toss my hair back, turning my head to give him a teasing look over my shoulder. It’s supposed to be vampish, but he’s laughing at me. ‘Keep it going, I need to get at least one good shot!’

  I stop messing around and give him a half-smile.

  ‘Great, that will do. Now to break the news… we’ve been summoned to Cressida’s office.’

  He raises his eyebrows towards the heavens.

  ‘Office? That’s ominous, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yep. The inner sanctum. There’s no escaping once we’re inside.’

  I take a deep breath then push my hands together, in prayer-mode.

  ‘We can do this! She’s a powerful, determined woman but now it’s time for her to relax a little. You owe it to her to make things as smooth as possible.’ And I’m going to be doing the exact same thing.

  ‘Amen to that,’ Cary replies, with a firm resolve.

  As our eyes meet, the telling look I receive in return bears no resemblance at all to the exacting man I’ve been working for these past few weeks. I’m seeing the person beneath that professional exterior and what I see is vulnerability. I wonder what exactly Cary sees as he stares back at me?

  14

  A Glimpse Inside an Ivory Tower

  I had no idea the old vicarage even had a third floor disappearing up into the eaves of the building. In fact, I’d assumed that the line of three doors on the landing were, in fact, storage cupboards. It turns out that the one in the middle is the understated entrance to a flight of stairs. With no natural light and a wall either side, the glow from the floor-level lighting on each step is soft, but perfectly adequate.

  ‘Surprised?’ Cary calls out over his shoulder as I follow a couple of paces behind him.

  ‘Very.’

  When we reach the landing at the top there are two doors directly in front of us and one on the returning walls either side. The overhead inset lighting mimics daylight, although it’s a little muted. Between the doors are floor to ceiling mirrored panels and it’s a little unsettling being faced with numerous reflections of yourself at every angle.

  ‘Clever, isn’t it? As kids, Laurence and I loved coming up here to explore. It was off-limits most of the time and I must admit we were a handful at times; boisterous, always playfighting and not very careful when it came to ensuring we didn’t end up breaking things.’

  ‘Four rooms?’

  Cary indicates to our right. ‘That’s a bathroom, next to it is a bedroom then Cressida’s office, which adjoins a separate sitting room.’

  He strides forward, placing his hand on one of the door handles and swinging it open, watching for my reaction as he does so.

  We step into a room that faces the rear of the house. The entire back wall is made up of glass doors which concertina back, leading out onto a roof terrace. The views are far-reaching, looking out over the fields and the tops of trees, to the Channel beyond. Cressida’s desk faces outwards and as I spin around I see that the wall behind me is lined with bookshelves. I can’t even begin to imagine how many books there are here, but it’s a huge collection. However, the lady herself is nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Come and have a look at the view,’ he encourages, turning and heading away from me.

  I follow Cary as he walks across to the far side of the room, gazing out beyond the contemporary styling of the terrace with it’s dark-grey, slate paving and central water feature. A white marble ball, some three feet high, is covered in a shimmering layer of gently cascading water, rippling downwards and disappearing into the pebbles below. All the materials are natural and it’s very Zen and tranquil.

  While Cary remains focused on the view, I grab the opportunity to scan around the room, taking in the precise neatness of everything within it. The Georgian-style desk has been hand painted in silver-grey and distressed. On it sit two separate monitors and keyboards, set side by side. A small stack of files nestles between them. There are several framed photos, I suspect of Cary and Laurence, but I don’t feel I can sidle over to take a better look. Suddenly, a panel in the wall swings open and Cressida is standing there, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘I never thought I’d see this day. My eldest grandson and his girlfriend standing in my office. This has made one ageing romance writer very, very happy, you do know that?’

  She walks across to stand between us, sliding an arm around our respective waists and giving a little satisfied hug.

  ‘A special moment, indeed,’ she almost whispers to herself.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I remark, feeling the need to say s
omething but not quite sure what. It’s not just the view that is a surprise but the way the space has been used to create a separate little world up here.

  ‘Thank you, Leesa. It’s rather indulgent as I can write just as easily from anywhere in the house, but over the years it has been a sanctuary during some very difficult times. Up here it’s easy to forget my troubles for a while and disappear into a world surrounded by characters who whisk me away from it all. Now, I look at it and think it’s under-used and I feel isolated at times. In fact, the whole house only comes to life when the family gather here and that’s a waste. This house deserves to be filled with people and love again. I didn’t expend all that time and money preserving it, for it to become a dusty old place with no life inside its walls.’

  Withdrawing her arms, she spins around to gaze upon her desk. There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes and yet this is where she has created so many novels that have enriched and enthralled readers’ lives over the years.

  ‘You can’t seriously be thinking of turning your back on the house, Grandma? You belong here. We all gravitate around you.’

  Is Cary trying to convince himself that things will continue as normal – can continue as normal, despite Cressida’s blatant attempt to forewarn him that there are changes to come? Even if it’s simply about her taking some time for herself.

  ‘He’s like his father and his grandfather, Leesa. They don’t like change. But nothing in life stands still forever. If it did then life would be boring. We all have to move on and consider our next steps with an open mind.’

  Is she talking about Cary and me, or herself, I wonder?

  ‘It’s time for you to embrace my wishes, Cary. You have considerably more energy than I have, enough to oversee this house. But you can’t live here alone. It’s time to put down roots, dear boy, and that’s why your news has delighted me.’

  ‘My life isn’t here, Grandma. This house is your domain.’

  He seems annoyed by her comment, unwilling to enter into a conversation when he could so easily ask her what’s really going on here.

  ‘I sincerely hope he opens up to you a little more than he does to me, Leesa. It’s that stiff-upper-lip mentality he’s inherited. Where’s the hint of the modern man in him? Showing one’s emotions is not a weakness and I have no idea why he’s so repressed. My lovely daughter didn’t teach him that and as he and his brother were with me from quite a tender age, it certainly wasn’t me. I simply want to know what’s going on inside that head of his sometimes – as would anyone who is a part of his life.’

  Cary turns to face her, his exasperation very visible.

  ‘Grandma, when every man in your virtual book life is a knight on a white horse, doing the noble thing and never getting it wrong, your expectations are unreasonable. Granddad couldn’t cope with the pressure, neither could my father. Okay, Laurence is doing quite well considering he’s an Anderson. As for me, well, how could I ever measure up to my namesake, the one and only Cary Grant? Suave, smooth-talking and enigmatic simply isn’t me. I can’t pretend to Leesa that I’m someone I’m not because I’ll simply fail to deliver.’

  Cressida presses her hands together, her stance firm.

  ‘You’re missing the point, Cary. You aren’t supposed to be someone else, you’re supposed to be you. But a gentler, kinder and more-in-touch-with-your-feelings type of you. If not for me, do it for Leesa and for the sake of your own future. I wanted to see you both in private because the beginning of a relationship is a crucial time. It’s where you set the ground rules and from here you either grow closer together, or you grow apart. It means a lot to me to think of you having someone by your side who will be a partner in both life and love. And I hope that this house will be a part of your future too, Cary.’

  I can see that he’s starting to get rattled and from where I’m standing, rightly so. But I can also hear the love inherent in her words and reflected in her eyes whenever she gazes at him. Cressida idolises him and she’s fearful, by the sound of it – unable to accept that history could repeat itself again if Cary doesn’t make an effort to change. It isn’t only about this house and his inheritance but him realising that Cressida won’t be around forever. His response is swift.

  ‘Even the great man himself admitted during an interview that he, too, wanted to be Cary Grant. Instead, in real life he was Archibald Alexander Leach and his personal life was far from fulfilling as we later came to discover. Sad, but true.’

  I know people do name their children after their idols. But the dashing, sophisticated icon of the silver screen is impossible to live up to for anyone, let alone someone who doesn’t appear to have a single romantic bone in his body. Cary is right to be irked by it, although I do find the irony rather amusing.

  Cressida smiles across at him benevolently. Her voice is calm and gentle.

  ‘My dear boy, life is what we choose to make it. You’re prepared to try when it comes to anything work-related. When it comes to affairs of the heart you look around at the failures and make that your excuse for keeping your emotions in check and being cautious. I want you to celebrate what you have with Leesa and nurture it. That’s all I’m asking.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t have far to look to see how badly things can go wrong, did I?’

  Eek! Now I wish I could just dematerialise and whisk myself away somewhere else. This is way too personal and it’s as if they’ve forgotten I’m here. This harks back to old family wounds and that’s none of my business.

  Cressida frowns and lets out a lingering sigh that is poignantly heartfelt.

  ‘Cary, I have never stopped loving your grandfather in the same way that your mother never stopped loving your father. But they were both stubborn men. I can’t speak about your father now, because that would be unfair of me. It’s been many years since I’ve seen him, and he may have changed his ways and found happiness. Although I am disappointed he has never reached out to you and appears to have disowned us all.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I would turn my back on him if he appeared at the door. Regrets tend to rear their head when we least expect them; what’s important is that we take the time out to do something about it. Even if it’s only to acknowledge that we’re sorry. But as for your grandfather, I never measured him against anything or anyone; all he ever had to do to keep me by his side was to return the love I gave him. The only time he has ever been the least bit romantic, or emotionally thoughtful, was when he appeared in my novels. Then I made him the man he was inside; the man he was too afraid to be. And now he’s old and he’s alone.’

  Oh no, Cary don’t say it!

  ‘I know and you’re right. He doesn’t reach out to anyone and neither does my father.’

  At last I can let out the breath I’ve been holding in. I thought he was going to throw the same words back at her. This could be a turning point for them if Cressida handles it correctly.

  ‘This isn’t about romance or sweeping a woman off her feet. It’s about being man enough to say something simple like “I love you,” or noticing when the person you live with is in need of something, maybe a healing hug. There’s a reason a mother reminds her children constantly of how dear they are to her. It builds their self-esteem to know they are wanted and loved. But as wives, mothers and grandmothers we, too, long to hear the sentiment returned. In truth, I don’t know if your grandfather even really loved me in the beginning. Or whether he married me because it was expected of him. I guess I’ll never know that for sure now, because he’s too old to change.’

  I feel tearful watching them facing each other and saying things that are hard to listen to but, I imagine, even harder to admit.

  The atmosphere is growing tense and I feel it’s the right thing to at least try to change the subject. I think that would be quite a relief to them both but what can I say?

  ‘People often mellow.’ I throw the thought out there and they both turn to look at me, slightly puzzled.

  ‘Mellow?’ Cary queries, a frown forming
on his forehead. By comparison, Cressida looks a little relieved.

  ‘It’s just an observation, but is it possible that sometimes we don’t notice the little changes occurring in the people around us? Matthew struck me as a shy man; very private. But he wasn’t uncommunicative. Maybe he’s not sure how to broach a conversation about the past and any regrets he might have.’

  ‘You’ve met Matthew?’ Cressida sounds a little put out.

  I didn’t realise Cary hadn’t told Cressida about last night.

  I nod and Cressida smiles at me with her eyes, knowing now is not the moment to halt this conversation. Cary looks puzzled.

  ‘Granddad talking about the past? That’s hard to imagine.’

  I turn to face Cary full-on. ‘Have you ever let him know you’re there to listen if he wants to talk to you?’

  Cary’s head tips back in surprise. ‘Well, no. Why would I?’

  It’s hard not to roll my eyes at Cary’s curt response.

  ‘Because it didn’t look like he gets a lot of company and there are things you can’t discuss with a total stranger, anyway. You might be the only person he ever sees, and in whom he could confide. If he wanted to, that is.’

  Cressida remains silent.

  ‘So, I what… ask him if he needs to offload? Isn’t that something you do with a trained counsellor?’

  Cressida reaches out to put her hand on Cary’s arm.

  ‘It’s not offloading, Cary, it’s sharing. A problem shared is a problem halved, as the old saying goes. Matthew has a few friends but none he’d feel comfortable enough with to really talk to and that’s rather sad, isn’t it?’

  Cary’s expression shows that he, too, wishes he was somewhere else, anywhere rather than here.