The Christmas Calendar Girls

by Samantha Tonge

  18

  I stood in the school playground the next morning and a warm feeling infused my chest as children talked about the night before and how excited they’d been to see Father Christmas. However, there’d been no cosy glow when I’d counted up the evening’s proceeds again, just to check. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Audrey – I’d have checked even if accountant Davina had sorted out the notes and change. I was simply hoping that she might have missed some money. But she hadn’t.

  ‘Ruby’s dad was right. He said last night he could smell snow in the air,’ said Lily as sparse shreds of ice tumbled down, not looking too dissimilar to the tissue confetti thrown by Megan. ‘I wonder what it smells like.’

  ‘Christmas, perhaps,’ I said. An arctic wind cut through my coat.

  She breathed in and looked disappointed. ‘I can’t smell turkey or stuffing or the spicy hot drink you and your friends like that makes you giggly.’

  I inhaled too. ‘No, but I can smell something sweet, like oranges and cloves…’

  As Mia came into the playground she provided the explanation having just puffed out one last cloud of fragrant air from her vape. She came over. We talked about the wintry weather and how fortunate I was being a home worker – and how grateful she was for the after-school club that took the pressure off getting home on time from her beauty salon in Chesterwood.

  ‘Sorry again about Tommy’s comment,’ she said. Mia wasn’t wearing her familiar slash of red lipstick. Her peroxide pixie cut looked more like bed hair than her daily sculpted style. ‘He can be a handful.’

  ‘You had a word with him?’

  Mia nodded. ‘There are no excuses for what happened, but… it’s been hard since his dad and I split. Tommy’s been brilliant, really. Helping me with housework. He’s even mastered making cheese on toast. And I do my best not to show it if I’m ever feeling down but he just seems to sense it and will give me the biggest hug. Yet now and again he has outbursts. I question my parenting skills noon and night.’

  ‘I’m single myself. Most of the time I think I’m doing things wrong.’

  ‘I miss having a man in my life,’ she said, and her voice wavered. ‘Two heads really are better than one. When it comes to Tommy, I doubt myself all the time. I thought he’d be more settled by now.’

  I used to feel like that when Adam first passed, but over time I’d gained a sense of independence and realised I didn’t need a partner. But need was different to want, and it would have been great for Lily to have someone else on hand to turn to.

  Growing up, I’d turned to my parents for different things. Dad was a shoulder to cry on when I needed a generous dose of empathy, whereas Mum knew when to snap me out of pity parties and gee me into action.

  I searched for Mia’s son in the playground. It wasn’t difficult, him being one of the tallest. He was talking to Arlo. They’d often stood together lately. Deep in conversation. Jasper looking cross. Perhaps he was jealous. Maybe the twins were now finding their own friends. Up until now they’d been in the same friendship groups and shared the same hobbies. Davina worried about it now and again. Read stuff about separating them being important for them to forge their own identities and to encourage them to socialise with others. But the two boys had always been so close, and mixed well with other children, so Max and Davina had decided it wasn’t a concern for them.

  ‘Does he see much of his dad?’ I asked.

  ‘Most weekends. He still lives in the family home. I think Tommy prefers staying with him.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘Friends choose sides when a couple divorce. I’d given up most of mine, apart from the girls at the salon, to move in my husband’s aristocratic circle.’

  I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘His family own Longbough House, about ten miles east of here.’

  ‘I had no idea. Lily and I visited the grounds once. It’s stunning. And if I remember rightly, it has a lovely teashop.’

  ‘Charles and his parents have worked hard, over the years, to keep it maintained and appealing to the public. Paying visitors is what helps keep it in such good condition. There’s never any spare money but they don’t mind as long as they can carry on their family’s tradition and keep Longbough in a habitable condition.’ She sighed. ‘I never really felt like I fitted. Our joint friends were mostly his and were the ones Tommy grew up with. So he only gets to see the adults he’s fond of – and their kids – at weekends.’

  ‘That’s a tough situation for both of you.’

  ‘I thank God that I insisted on keeping my business going when we got married, otherwise now I’d be left with much less income and even fewer friends.’

  ‘How come Tommy changed schools? I didn’t realise you’d always been quite so local.’

  In fact, I realised how little I knew Mia at all. Despite her striking appearance she’d kind of just blended into the background in September, chatting to different mums every day, zooming in with her jeep and zooming off as soon as the bell went.

  ‘My husband cheated on me. Turns out he only married me because I got pregnant. It ended as amicably as it could. He knew I’d never liked the private school Tommy was enrolled in – the over-protective and exclusive atmosphere. I think he felt guilty about his affair so agreed Tommy could try a state school for a trial period. Birchwood Primary seemed like a compromise, with its almost rural feel.’ She forced a smile. ‘Sorry. Shouldn’t be going on. I… I heard that you’d lost your husband before you moved here. I can’t imagine how tough that must have been.’

  ‘A different kind of tough, I guess,’ I said and gave her a small smile. If Adam had cheated on me that would have cut deep as well.

  Kit walked through the gates. Balanced on his shoulder was a huge Christmas tree wrapped in netting. He carried it so easily the trunk could have been made of foam. The wind lifted his hair. The old caretaker Jim hated the cold and during the winter was never seen without his thermos of hot tea. The late secretary, Polly, would gladly refill it for him. Davina got chatting to her once about the food bank. It turned out her husband had been homeless, years ago, after coming out of the care system. He’d never forgotten the biting cold. At weekends the couple volunteered at a soup kitchen.

  A tree was always erected in time for the Christmas fair and this year’s was on the thirteenth, a week on Saturday. The children whooped and ran over. When I turned back to Mia she’d gone.

  Lily tugged my arm and before I knew it, we were both standing next to Kit, along with several other pupils. The tree was vertical now and even taller than him. He held it upright whilst answering the children’s questions.

  ‘Sure, it will have special outdoor lights and I’m going to put it in a big red bucket full of soil. Apparently, each class is going to have a session, this week, to make waterproof decorations.’

  Shouts of ‘ace’ cut through the frosty air.

  The bell rang and we went to move away. But Lily stood her ground. Davina and Jasper came over.

  ‘Mr Carlton. I didn’t eat any vegetables last night. But I did eat fruit.’

  ‘You’ll be taller than this Christmas tree in no time at all,’ he said.

  ‘Mummy says I won’t be really tall because Daddy isn’t,’ said Jasper in a sad voice.

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Kit. ‘Your daddy is still a very happy and successful man.’

  The bell rang again. Lily kissed me and hurtled off. Davina headed off towards Arlo.

  ‘How about I come around tonight, before the calendar, and look at that draughty bedroom window?’ he said. ‘I won’t take no for an answer, Fern. Not now that snow is on its way. They are forecasting plummeting temperatures and several inches of snow next week.’

  ‘Oh. Well, only if—’

  ‘Five o’clock? That gives me an hour. I should at least be able to assess the problem but I’ll bring my sealant just in case. Is the calendar’s Number Two far? I told Ruby I’d go, to see her window.’

/>   I shook my head. ‘Her family’s house is just three doors down. But honestly… you’re doing enough to help out at the moment and—’

  ‘See you later, then,’ he said and picked up the tree before walking off.

  My mind went off-piste into fantasy land for a moment, imagining Kit to be some clichéd hero – maybe a fireman – lifting up some damsel in distress as easily as that tree.

  But I didn’t need to be saved by a Prince Charming and there was a lot more to Kit than his looks. For those reasons and for the sake of my sanity, this had to stop. I needed to move on. For whatever reason Kit wasn’t interested in a romance and for both our sakes I had to accept that – otherwise I risked ruining an important friendship.

  Step by step as I ambled home, I came up with a plan. Something I’d joked about with the girls in the past.

  Perhaps it might be fun.

  19

  I strode the last fifty metres and admired a fairy light sleigh on the dormer roof of the house opposite mine. As soon as I got indoors I pulled off my hat, let my coat fall to the floor, threw my gloves onto the stairs and collapsed onto the sofa. I rubbed my hands together. This was serious business. I needed to get a grip on what must have been a schoolgirl crush. I needed to prove I was over that kiss – I needed to prove that to Kit, and myself. I took out my phone, brushed my hair and took a selfie. The strained smile made me look like a convict. So I took twenty more and finally created one that didn’t suggest I’d turn up to a date hiding an axe.

  Then I created a profile on Tinder.

  Not words I ever thought I’d be saying when Adam and I were wallowing in domestic bliss, changing nappies and talking about colic instead of the latest flavour of gin or the current bands touring.

  I was a journalist and could surely smash the bio. I examined other people’s. Some did first and lasts – for example, their first or last car. Or by day, by nights – for example, window cleaner by day, pole dancer by night (intriguing, maybe I’d check him out). Finally, I decided on:

  Three short sentences about me:

  Cold pizza for breakfast. Bad grammar puts me off. Laughs and holding hands are king.

  But then I spent over thirty minutes rethinking it. Did the last sentence make me sound like a prude? But if I swapped holding hands for cuddles would a prospective partner expect sex on a first date? Because with Lily that was never going to happen.

  In the end I left it as it was – and then waited, determined to achieve my goal of arranging a date I could tell Kit about this evening. Hopefully that would extinguish any remaining awkwardness between us. I wouldn’t be thinking he thought I fancied him. He wouldn’t be thinking I did.

  Urgh. How had our friendship suddenly become so complicated?

  Oh yes.

  Total recall.

  It was down to that mind-blowing, every-atom-of-me melting, stupendous kiss.

  I closed my eyes for a second to replay it.

  In slow motion.

  Frame by frame.

  I forced my eyes open. That would be the last showing. I needed to forget it.

  And Tinder was supposed to be fast working, wasn’t it? The speediest way to get a date? I started liking and swiping and it wasn’t long before several profiles liked me back. This opened the messaging function. I lifted my finger to make contact with a man called Derek. He had a nice smile and enjoyed eating out.

  His name sounded older than the photo and I’d read in the papers about how people lied about themselves on dating apps. But there was no point starting this process with a cynical attitude.

  Hi there. How are you?

  I pressed send.

  Hey sexy. Looking hot in your profile. What size are those jugs?

  Ew.

  I threw the phone across onto the armchair.

  But I’d never been one to give up easily. And I wouldn’t let Derek warp my view of all prospective matches. I took a deep breath and reached out to Neil from Chesterwood. He looked about thirty-five. Wore a tie in his profile picture. And had a side parting. That felt safe.

  Hi there. How are you?

  Adam used to say I was a creature of habit. Once again, I pressed send.

  Nothing.

  I sat and waited fifteen minutes before getting out my laptop to work. An hour later my phone finally buzzed.

  Nice to *see* you on here, Fern.

  We messaged for half an hour. Neil was on his lunch break. He was a solicitor. He also liked cold pizza for breakfast. His marriage had broken up last year. We arranged to meet up tomorrow night. Eight o’clock in the French restaurant where I’d met mindful Oliver.

  Urgh.

  What was I thinking?

  Over a ham sandwich the reality of my morning sunk in.

  Was I mad? This guy could be anyone.

  No. It would be fine. The app was popular. I just needed to get back into the dating groove. And my job was to interview people. I would treat it like that to avoid any uncomfortable silences. The evening would prove that I was no longer pining over Kit.

  Mentally I clapped myself on the back for being so mature. Then I opened a packet of biscuits and ate every single one.

  ‘Where is that packet of jam and cream biscuits?’ asked Lily when Kit came in at five o’clock.

  After a quick hug, I led him into the kitchen. Lily was standing on a chair, head inside one of the cupboards.

  ‘I’m going to make Mr Carlton a squash and something to eat.’

  ‘Perhaps a coffee would make him feel warmer. The snow might have stopped but it’s perishing outside with that wind.’

  Lily jumped down and put her hands on her hips and with a serious expression shook her head. ‘That won’t help. We learnt it in school today. People in India eat curry because it is so hot it makes their bodies cool down inside. So if I make Mr Carlton a hot drink he will feel even colder. I might even get out ice cubes and…’

  ‘Lily, I think the kind of hot your teacher meant in curry was down to spices.’

  But she didn’t hear. Kit gave me one of his heart-breaking smiles as she babbled excitedly and headed to the freezer.

  Heart-breaking.

  I was going to have to change my internal narrative.

  Kit was… solid. Decent. Amicable. Hardworking.

  I congratulated myself on choosing words from an unsexy vocabulary.

  Instead, his smile was… infectious. There. That was more appropriate. And certainly true. It was as if we were puppets connected by the same strings and when he laughed I couldn’t help but laugh too.

  I took him up to my bedroom. He walked around my bed. After being married it had seemed too sad to buy a single and I couldn’t bear to keep the old one. It was as if the mattress had stolen memories and gave them back to me during the loneliest hours of the night. I had it taken to the tip, standing to watch as the van containing it drove off.

  Kit examined the window frame. Listened for a while. Placed his palm against different areas. Then he took off his rucksack and pulled out a packet of incense sticks and a lighter. He lit one and held it against the frame in different areas, along the bottom and up both sides. A musky smell filled the room. Minutes later he put the incense stick out by licking his fingers and pinching the lit end.

  ‘The wind has helped me reach a diagnosis. It’s a trick I learnt from my dad. The smoke helps you pinpoint the exact position of any escaping air as it blows the smoke sideways. The draught is coming through the frame at the bottom. Over time the wood must have warped and caused gaps.’ He pulled a long white tube out of his rucksack. ‘I’ll use my sealant and then you can monitor the improvement over the next week. If there’s still a problem, I’ll come back.’

  ‘Thanks. I know you are busy. I bet you look forward to the weekend. Are you up to anything special?’ I asked, innocently. ‘Seeing Paula again?’ Okay, I’d lost my challenge of not mentioning her. Pathetic. ‘It’s funny to think we both knew her without realising it. How did you two meet?’

 
He focused hard on the window again and then looked at me. ‘Sorry? Did you say something? The weekend? Oh, nothing special. Probably shopping for laminate flooring. There’s a sale on in that DIY superstore just outside Chesterwood. I’m thinking of pulling up that old carpet in my living area. But not much else apart from that. How about you?’

  So he’d ignored my question. Unless he’d hadn’t heard. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t my place to push.

  ‘Same. Oh. I’d almost forgotten.’ I kept my tone light. ‘Friday – I’ve got a date.’

  His expression didn’t flinch. But then what was I expecting? Kit took off his coat, lay it on the bed and rolled up his sleeves. He tied his hair up into a bun before turning around to examine the windowsill again.

  ‘Going anywhere nice?’

  ‘No. Somewhere horrible.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Into Chesterwood for a meal.’

  ‘Great. Just remember not to eat the garnish if the restaurant is posh. And make sure you use the correct cutlery. Choosing the wrong fork would be considered a huge faux pas and… but I’m sure you know all of that.’ His smile widened.

  ‘Kit Carlton – are you trying to make me nervous? Although I expect you know all there is to know about high-end catering, after your career in London.’

  ‘Let’s just say I’ve eaten enough caviar to last a lifetime. And yes, it’s overrated.’

  Silence fell as I pictured him in a sharp Italian suit, working the room, with beautiful women hanging on his arms and celebrities clapping him on the back… not for the first time I wondered how it had all gone so wrong.

  ‘Where did you meet this guy?’ he asked eventually and pulled the lid off the tube of sealant.

  ‘Oh… you know, around…’

  ‘Is he one of the dads in the playground?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A neighbour?’

  ‘Not that either.’ My cheeks felt hot.

  ‘A contact through work, then?’

  I just couldn’t lie to Kit.

  ‘No, again. What is this, twenty questions?’

  His shoulders bobbed up and down. ‘I’m just curious how the more I ask, the more you avoid answering!’