The Christmas Calendar Girls

by Samantha Tonge

  I bobbed under the water and came up again to knock some sense into myself. What was I thinking? Kit didn’t care what I looked like.

  ‘You must miss that luxury lifestyle,’ I said, curiously.

  ‘Not really. The worth of luxury is overrated,’ he said, and an unreadable expression crossed his face. ‘Right. First to ten lengths?’

  Me and Lily only did widths.

  ‘Sure. The loser buys hot drinks afterwards.’

  ‘And cake,’ he said, looking serious.

  ‘Deal.’

  He set off.

  There weren’t that many people in the pool. But then it was Tuesday. Midweek was always quieter. Although people were going in and out of the new Jacuzzi in a room at the end of the left-hand side, and the refurbished café had looked busy on the way in. I gazed around and admired the tall newly painted sky-blue walls and palm tree motifs at the end behind us, by the toddlers’ pool. The floor tiles looked as if they had been re-grouted and there was a new small play area by the reception desk.

  I took a deep breath and began. Breaststroke for me. One length. Two. That was okay. Three. Four. Gosh. I really was unfit. Still, I completed my last length before him and waited at the shallow end, arms folded. He swam over and stood up, catching his breath, that six-pack pumping. Then he crouched down so that the water covered his broad shoulders. I did the same. It was warmer that way.

  ‘My swimming sessions with Lily must have given me an advantage,’ I said and pushed dripping curls out of my eyes.

  ‘Yeah. Breaststroke doesn’t often beat front crawl. Although there’s just one problem,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked, airily.

  ‘You don’t seem to know how to count.’

  ‘Gah. Rumbled.’ He’d worked out my last length wasn’t actually my tenth.

  Kit gave a belly laugh.

  His breathing finally slowed. ‘How’s it going with the advent calendar?’

  ‘Slower than I thought. Dozens of people have seen my post in the Facebook group but only nine spots have been taken. That still leaves fifteen. The Head thinks it’s a great idea so she’s given the go-ahead for me, Davina and Cara to stand by a table in the playground on Thursday morning. Davina’s got some leaflets from Ron to display, setting out what the food bank does, and Cara and I will explain all the details of what’s involved in taking part in the calendar. We’ll try to nab parents as they come in to drop the children off. Cara said she’ll bake some biscuits. They will attract the children and bring the parents over.’

  ‘Don’t wait for the mums and dads to come over, go to them. In fact put some of the biscuits and leaflets on trays and wander around. It’s less formal. One of the core rules of business: don’t rely on being found. More often than not, you have to find the customers.’

  We talked a bit more about the food bank and what Kit’s friends, who’d used it at the same time as him, were doing. Several had gained employment. One had fallen into addiction again and was back on the streets. Another had died from the cancer that had led him to losing his job and needing financial help.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said. ‘We were lucky. The newspaper was very good when Adam was ill, and let him work at home for as long as he could.’

  ‘From everything you’ve told me about him, he was especially conscientious and hardworking – perhaps that weighed in his favour.’

  ‘Yes. He never missed a deadline. Nor used a cliché in copy. Adam inspired me no end. At his funeral the editor told me he’d always had a huge amount of respect for him.’

  ‘My mum inspired me greatly. She loved her cleaning job at the care home and took great pride in leaving everything spotless. The manager told me once when I met her there at the end of her shift. He said she was a joy to work with and often took extra time to chat to the residents. It taught me that great things can be achieved if you enjoy what you’re doing.’

  ‘It sounds like you achieved great things, with your party business. You must have loved doing it,’ I said.

  ‘Yes and no,’ he said curtly and then smiled. ‘Come on. Ten more lengths before that hot chocolate.’

  ‘Sure you can manage it?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure you can count properly this time?’

  We grinned.

  He started to swim, but I caught up and grabbed his shoulder.

  ‘Your height gives you an unfair advantage, so I think you should give me, ooh, ten seconds before you start.’

  Those chestnut eyes crinkled. ‘Whatever you say.’

  I began to swim but he grabbed my leg and I stopped moving forwards.

  I twisted around. ‘Let go!’

  ‘What?’ he asked innocently.

  I pulled at my leg laughing. Gently, he dragged me through the rippling waves, towards him. Our faces came to within centimetres of each other and I felt a sudden urge to wrap my legs around his waist.

  My hand found his under the water, on my leg, and one by one I unfurled his fingers. When I finished I looked up at the teasing eyes and suddenly the atmosphere really did seem tropical. My neck felt hot. My pulse raced. Kit cocked his head slightly. A serious expression crossed his face and it was almost as if we were going to kiss.

  A lifeguard shouted out to a couple of teenagers next to us who’d become boisterous. Abruptly I turned. ‘Ten seconds, remember,’ I shouted over my shoulder to Kit and swam away as quickly as I could.

  7

  I breathed in. Just leather. No pong of used trainers or stale dropped crumbs. Davina’s run-around changed every year. This one had an inbuilt tissue dispenser and drinks holder in the back, along with a small screen and seats that each felt as big as a dental chair. Audrey sat in the front. The film started at seven. We pulled into the massive car park and went inside the brightly lit square building, as speedily as Audrey’s ankle would allow, her arm linked with Cara’s – mine with Davina’s. We’d booked the earlier showing so that we’d have time to go for a drink afterwards. That didn’t stop us getting refreshments to take in. Me and Cara got popcorn, Audrey a coffee and Davina a diet coke.

  The three of us all loved romantic comedies and were excited to watch trailers for two upcoming Christmas chick flicks. Tonight’s film was the one about a woman called Charity who worked in a charity shop. When the two leads kissed I couldn’t help imagining what it would have been like to kiss Kit in the swimming pool. Stupid, really. I’d in no way longed to run my fingers through his wet hair when he shook the ponytail free. Nor had I admired the speed with which he’d pulled his long frame through the water. Nope. Neither had happened. It has just been a usual trip out together with the usual banter.

  Which was just as well. Because anything else would make things complicated. And since Adam’s death I’d focused on keeping mine and Lily’s lives as straightforward as possible.

  I was glad I’d forced myself out, tonight, into the cold air. It was good to see Audrey laughing and shaking her head along with Davina. The only noise made by Cara was the crunch of popcorn and that didn’t last long. Unusually, she left half of hers and passed it to me to finish. When the film ended, we made our way into the glitzy foyer. Cara disappeared to the loos, saying she’d meet us at the bar.

  ‘It’s years since I’ve been to the cinema. Thank you for the invitation,’ said Audrey. ‘The male lead was rather a dish. I’m glad he got together with Charity at the end.’

  Davina insisted on getting the drinks whilst Audrey and I bagged a table. I told her about the current research I was doing for my weekly column. Weather forecasters were predicting one of the harshest winters ever so I was researching the preparations the local council was making to deal with the homeless.

  ‘Terrible, isn’t it?’ said Cara as she sat down, having helped Davina bring over the four glasses. ‘Hannah and I went into town to buy her new shoes on Sunday. Several of the doorways had sleeping bags in them.’

  ‘Max found a couple of rough sleepers in his new build last week,’ said D
avina. ‘He didn’t have the heart to throw them out straightaway. He gave them one more night and a twenty pound note. You feel so hopeless. This is why it’s more important than ever that the food bank stays open.’

  Audrey nodded. ‘We’re all exceptionally lucky – especially mums like you, Cara. I imagine being a stay-at-home parent is a real luxury these days – not that it would have suited me but—’

  ‘You reached the top of your profession, didn’t you?’ I asked.

  ‘I was a senior medical rep, at the end. Worked my way up from the bottom. Networked hard. Knew my products inside out. I felt there was nothing more satisfying than seeing your wage transform into meals on the table or shoes on feet. And I think seeing me graft like that instilled a good work ethic in John. He got a paper round as soon as he was old enough.’ She smiled. ‘But then you know all about that, Fern. And you do your husband’s books, don’t you, Davina?’

  She groaned. ‘Yes. I must be a saint. Max’s mind is less organised than Arlo’s bedroom.’ She put down her faux snakeskin purse – another item vetted by Cara. ‘Although it’s good to tax the old brain cells now and again.’

  For ten minutes we chatted about combining parenthood with a career – until Cara’s absent voice became obvious.

  ‘Not that full-time stay-at-home motherhood isn’t taxing, of course,’ said Davina.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ I said. ‘But then I’m not much of a homemaker in terms of baking, sewing, gardening…’

  Audrey put down her glass. ‘I wasn’t either. And my job – it was my identity. Don’t you ever miss your career, Cara?’ she asked. ‘You could go back part-time now that Lex has started school. You’ve as much right to a job as John has.’

  Cara shook her head. ‘No. I loved restaurant management – and who knows, maybe I’ll go back to that once the children have left home and settled. But in my opinion a good mum is a happy mum and what suits me best at the moment is staying at home. It is a luxury these days but we’ve tailored our needs. That’s why the car is second-hand and we never holiday abroad.’

  ‘But it’s such a shame to throw away all that experience, love. And what part of your day is just about you? What will you be left with when the girls don’t need you any more? Twenty years down the line, how employable will you be? Digital technology is changing everything and advancing every day.’ Audrey tutted. ‘I just worry, that’s all.’

  ‘Cara could easily set herself up a childminding business, when the time is right,’ I said. ‘She’s so brilliant with children.’

  ‘Or a landscape gardener. Your borders were exquisite last summer, Cara,’ said Davina enthusiastically.

  Audrey blushed. ‘Of course… I didn’t mean to… I know you work very hard, love. I’m just thinking of what’s best.’

  Cara managed a smile. ‘I know you are just looking out for me. But there’s no need to worry. Honestly. Me and John – we like the way things are.’

  ‘But I do worry, dear. I worry you’ll be left twiddling your thumbs when that empty nest arrives, which, take it from me, it will.’ Her mouth drooped for a moment.

  ‘That’s too far away to think about,’ Cara said breezily and took a large mouthful of wine.

  ‘Well, I’ll always be around to help with the girls if you ever change your mind and want or need to contribute to the family income and share the financial responsibilities with John.’

  I looked at Davina, knowing what she was thinking. With every word, poor Audrey was digging herself in deeper. And what did she mean by being around? Wasn’t the plan to go back home, now that her mobility had returned?

  ‘Awkward,’ muttered Davina later, after we’d dropped Audrey and Cara off. They walked up the drive as we drove away.

  ‘Audrey didn’t express her opinion very carefully.’

  Davina turned off the radio. ‘To be honest, I’m getting more and more worried about Cara – the first month Audrey lived with her she looked shattered, having to help her dress and all sorts. Things must be a lot easier now the cast is off but Cara still seems unhappy.’

  ‘Do you think… could she and John be having problems? He’s at the office so much these days.’

  ‘I don’t know. Max works all hours. Doesn’t mean he’s up to no good. But I suppose I’m used to it.’

  ‘She’s never burnt food before and do you remember a couple of weeks ago, when she forgot that non-uniform day? Her face when she realised… Poor Cara looked almost more upset than Hannah and Lex.’

  ‘I’m glad Audrey is there to keep an eye out,’ she said. ‘They seem to get on really well, having not been close before. I remember Cara saying last year how she’d always felt a distance between herself and her mother-in-law and she didn’t know why. Audrey might put her foot in it now and again but she’s got a good heart and was asking me for ideas of what to get Cara for Christmas. She wants to find her a really special gift as a thank you for looking after her so well.’

  ‘She was great at entertaining the kids on Saturday night. If John isn’t around so much, perhaps she can help take some of the strain.’

  Davina parked up outside my house. I told her about the tips ‘my friend in hospitality’ had given me. We chatted about tomorrow morning and getting to school early to set up the table in the playground. One more spot had been taken up through the Facebook group and a few people had shared their ideas for snacks and displays. Cara had managed to sign up someone from her reading club. I’d been up late several nights making phone calls to volunteers, to confirm that they were definitely taking part and to answer any questions.

  For just a second I’d regretted suggesting the whole thing. I was beginning to realise how much work it was going to entail, especially if participants weren’t over-enthusiastic. But then Davina and Cara were, as always, offering the strongest support. And I could feel winter temperatures approaching. It made me think of how much more difficult homelessness must be on an empty stomach.

  I waved goodbye to Davina and opened my front door, empty hanging baskets swinging either side, missing the summer plants. I waited for Megan to get her things and stood in the cold watching, through the darkness, until she was safely inside her house next door.

  I thought about Audrey, and my relationship with Adam’s mum. She’d always been so welcoming, seamlessly offering help without interfering. That’s why it had been such a shock when she’d first backed off when Adam died.

  Yet in some ways, I understood.

  Hearts didn’t break in two when love ended – no, they shattered. But slowly the pieces reassembled. In the same way but also different.

  Adam’s parents still loved me and Lily. But now something was missing. The pieces of their hearts had been stuck together again, but with a mortar containing sadness.

  I went upstairs to check on Lily and kissed her forehead. She didn’t budge. Her dad’s book of advice lay on the pillow next to her. It was becoming a frequent bedtime read, now that she was old enough to understand many of the words. But not in a morbid way. Often we’d giggle over the silly jokes he’d included. Carefully I slid it into her bedside drawer.

  Humming, I headed into my bedroom and closed the curtains. Eleven o’clock. I yawned and went to pull off my jumper when my phone bleeped.

  Fern, a mate of mine from the Back To Work programme I went on has landed a job with an events company. They’ve been contracted to run the Christmas village over in Chesterwood. He’s sent me two tickets to try out the winter ice rink next Thursday night, before it opens to the public in the middle of November. I’d give them to you and Lily but they are in my name. We’ll probably be twice the age of anyone else, but the ticket includes a free meal and am sure my mate would be pleased to have a journalist there. What do you think? Kit.

  Titan Kit on a pair of skates? I had to see this, if only so that I could tease him when he fell over. Humour had become the signature of our friendship. And if the rink was fun I could take Lily in December as a surprise treat, so she would
n’t be missing out.

  Attaching a gif of a penguin skating on ice, I texted back.

  8

  We set up a table opposite the entrance gate, against the wall of a Year One classroom. Hannah, Lex, Arlo and Jasper were playing Tag. Lily was with me, Davina and Cara, studying a leaflet. The weather was on our side, with the early morning sun and absence of even a breeze. Wearing fingerless gloves, Davina neatly spread out the food bank leaflets. After calling to little Lex to be careful running around as the ground had suffered a slight frost, Cara opened Tupperware boxes of biscuits. After dinner last night she’d stayed up baking Christmas themed ones – chocolate snowmen and ginger reindeer. She’d made them healthy as they were for a load of kids. The snowmen were made from wholemeal flour and the reindeer contained grated carrot. She put one box on the table and another on a tray I’d brought, along with a handful of leaflets. I sat down on a chair I’d grabbed from the sports hall, in front of the printed-out calendar page I was starting to fill in. Still only ten people had signed up, apart from me and the two nights I was hosting. I gazed at the empty slots on the page. December. It was only one month away. I tightened my woolly scarf.

  Davina glanced over to me. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got this.’

  Cara nodded. ‘We’ll come back to the playground again tomorrow morning if necessary.’

  ‘You guys are the best,’ I said.’

  The best sorts of friends were good at turning me into we.

  ‘I’ll talk to everyone in my class about it, Mum,’ said Lily importantly. She folded her arms. ‘No one’s coming to ours for fish fingers and peas again unless they sign up.’

  I laughed. ‘That’s my girl.’

  Lily came over and flung her arms around my neck. She gave me a hug before bolting off to join her friends’ game.

  Davina consulted her phone. ‘It’s just gone half past eight. People should arrive soon.’

  ‘Today will also be a way of letting people know about the residents’ Facebook group,’ I said. ‘There must be many locals who still don’t know about it.’