The Christmas Calendar Girls

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘Okay then.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I met him on Tinder.’

  20

  Appropriately, Ruby’s calendar display featured the colour of her name. Lily and I stood outside her window, along with everyone else, at six o’clock sharp, admiring the big Number Two poster on her front door. It featured a giant painted robin with a bold tomato red chest. They’d set up a CD playing birdsong. I smiled at Mia to my side. Kit was behind. The wind blew harder and scorched the top of my ears.

  Funny how cold could act like heat. Just like love could freeze or warm your heart.

  Kit had congratulated me for arranging my Tinder date. He said he was sure it would go fine but to ring him if I ran into any trouble and he’d be there like a shot. In fact, we laughingly agreed a code. If needs be, I’d text him Time to rock’n’roll followed by the address. It was a phrase my dad always used when we were kids, when it was time to leave a restaurant. And then our proposed plan got silly. Kit said he’d turn up and pretend to be another customer, walking past. Accidentally he would spill a glass of red wine down me and I’d be forced to end my date and depart. White wine wouldn’t be enough of a disaster. As well as looking wet, I’d have to look a right mess.

  Thanks goodness this was all just a hypothetical joke!

  It was nice that he cared. I joked that I’d be there for him, too, if he ever went on a blind date. He hadn’t replied.

  I’d left my curtains open, with the lights on and the tree set up. Over tea I’d got out all of my Christmas CDs. Adam and I had built up quite a collection. We’d both loved this time of year and surfing the waves of Bing Crosby and Slade nostalgia. This coming weekend I’d promised Lily that we’d pull out the remaining items that would turn our home into a Christmas grotto. Like the singing elf for the hallway. The holly themed crockery and tea towels. The orange and clover scented candles from last year. And then there were the Santa hats to wear when curled up in front of the television in dressing gowns and pyjamas.

  My parents had sent Lily one of those advent calendars that had a Christmas chocolate shape behind each door. Lily said it was almost as exciting as the living one on the estate. Today’s booty was a chocolate turkey.

  Lily noticed the curtains move and squeezed my hands. We’d already enjoyed several of the delicious robin-shaped ginger cookies, dipped in chocolate, that had been handed around. The turnout was better than last night’s and Ruby’s grandparents helped dish out drinks. Her dad went around with whisky for those who wanted their coffees fortifying for an extra donation. With the temperature now well below zero, his bottle was already half-empty. Hopefully this would mean their evening brought in more donations than mine.

  I could sense Lily hold her breath as the curtains parted.

  I stared ahead.

  Wow.

  A nature scene had been painted onto a big square of cardboard. Fairy lights lit the picture up just enough to show off the detail. It was a big, broad tree with large oval shaped green leaves cut out of felt. The branches stretched across the whole width and were home to many robins. Some wore little scarves. Others wore hats and had bright yellow beaks. An owl sat on the far right, its feathers made out of velvet, and a grey squirrel was on the left, holding a giant acorn. Sequins had been stuck on for eyes and the background was a lovely eggshell blue sky.

  ‘This was such a good idea of yours,’ said Audrey, to my right. Lex was holding her hand. Hannah was swinging hands with Ruby who was excitedly explaining the parts of the scene she’d painted. ‘It’s a real shame Cara couldn’t come.’

  ‘Is she ill?’

  ‘No. Strong as an ox my daughter-in-law is, as you know.’

  Not lately.

  ‘After making the children’s tea she accidentally left a plastic bowl on the ceramic hob. It melted everywhere. I recommended a special scraper she hadn’t heard of so Cara nipped to the DIY store before they closed to buy it along with brillo pads. I said us adults should just get takeaway tonight but she didn’t feel she could rest until it got sorted and she could start cooking again. I think she was worried that if she left it overnight the plastic would never come off.’

  ‘Granny saved the day,’ said Lex and punched her fist in the air. ‘That’s what Mummy said.’

  Audrey flushed pink.

  ‘It’s not like her to make mistakes like that,’ I said.

  ‘I know… she’s always seemed like such a perfect parent. I’ve often wondered how she did it.’

  ‘Puts the rest of us to shame,’ I said and smiled.

  Audrey gave me a pointed look. ‘Do you really feel like that?’

  ‘Oh… um… sometimes, I guess. Not in a jealous way. I love Cara. She’s one of the kindest, most generous souls on this earth. But there’s nothing she can’t do with a cooking pan or a needle.’

  ‘She doesn’t make you feel… inadequate? I mean nothing seems to faze her either. She just keeps going. It’s quite remarkable.’

  It was an odd line of questioning. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrow.

  Audrey laughed. ‘Sorry. Just curious. I… had a friend like Cara once. Her children always had home cooked meals. Were never late to school. They did craft work at home and she taught them how to bake and sew from an early age. As a mum with a job I often felt as if I’d failed John. I felt as if I was continually playing catch-up with errands and work. We both know Cara is the sweetest woman and oblivious to all that competitiveness. I just wondered if you found it hard… you know, the career mum balance.’

  I shrugged. ‘No point comparing. We all do the best we can, that’s my view. And I’m sure you were great. But either way, you’re making up for lost time with the grandchildren now, aren’t you? Cara told me you made finger puppets with them at the weekend.’

  Eyes sparkling, she nodded. ‘Yes. John had to go to work and Cara wasn’t feeling herself, so I was happy to step in. I’ve bought her a few of those ginger robin cookies. Ruby’s mum kindly put them in a sandwich bag for me. There’s nothing a bit of chocolate can’t put right.’

  As if on cue Ruby’s mum walked past with a tray. I took another coffee and dropped some money into the plastic beaker.

  Davina had been tapping on her phone since she got here. I left Lily talking to Lex and went over.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘What?’ She looked up. ‘It’s the food bank. Ron’s in a bit of a state to be honest.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘The landlord, a Mr Johnston, has doubled the rent – the developers have been in touch again and upped their offer.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ron says, to be fair, what he’s now asking is more in keeping with the market rates. The landlord is understandably getting twitchy. He doesn’t want to evict the food bank but is facing retirement… apparently, he’s taken a sudden interest in what income the warehouse could provide as he recently lost his comfortable pension pot due to bad advice. He’s giving Ron until the end of December to come up with the extra rent for this month and January’s still needs to be covered. We thought this living calendar would do that but now…’

  ‘This Mr Johnston can’t do that!’

  ‘I’m afraid he can.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘The proceeds from the calendar won’t cover the new total and there is no way the charities he’s contacted can put together some sort of long-term rescue plan at such short notice. Ron still badly needs the couple of months’ respite that we were hoping to fund, until the food bank can operate under the umbrella of a bigger organisation. Especially as this is the worst time of year for those out on the streets and in need.’

  ‘There must be something else we can do.’

  ‘I’ve just been texting him – and Max. After a lot of thought we’ve offered to lend Ron the money but he won’t hear of it. He’s a man of principle and isn’t prepared to borrow anything he can’t be sure of paying back. We can’t afford to write off the loan so I’ve had to agree.’

  I stared at the window displa
y. Looked at the robins’ little scarves and tried to imagine sleeping on the streets in this weather or having an empty stomach when it was so bitter outside. It reminded me of Polly, the secretary who died, and how her husband had slept on the streets as a young man.

  Polly.

  Perhaps there was a solution.

  21

  We’d just dropped the children off at school and were heading to the parade’s Love in a Mug coffee shop. Me, Davina, Cara and… Mia. Cara had suggested going there to come up with a plan to deal with this latest hike in the food bank’s rent. I had an idea, and Mia said she’d had some thoughts too. She’d hung at the school gates with a hopeful look on her face. Her make-up was back on today but didn’t mask an air that I recognised from after Adam died. A sense of being on the outside and looking in. Everyone was getting on with their lives apart from me. I’d felt as if I were watching a movie. I guess I felt lonely.

  ‘No clients today?’ I asked Mia, as we went into the supermarket first. I was after a newspaper and Cara needed to stock up on Sellotape and glue. She’d promised Hannah and Lex the three of them would raid their cardboard recycling bin after school and do Christmas craft, making hanging decorations for their bedrooms.

  ‘My assistant manager can open the salon. My first client isn’t until eleven.’

  She and Davina started chatting about nails in a language foreign to me. Gel varnish sounded messy and a French polish like something you’d do to furniture. Cara paid and then I went up to the till. The manager and I chatted. Hoping to exploit the forecast snow, he’d ordered in supplies of car defroster and extra tubs of salt.

  Cara led the way to the coffee shop. As expected, it was quiet at this time of the morning, parents rushing off to get to work or tidy up after breakfast. The biggest table was to the right of the door. It was a small room but the mirrored walls, white furniture and large windows made the most of the space. Angels and stars had been sprayed around the edges of the front windows with fake snow. Along with a plate of mince pies, we ordered coffees. I always thought they reflected a person’s character. Mine was black. The least complicated and quickest drink for a busy journalist – certainly back in the day when Adam and I were out chasing leads. Cara’s was a cappuccino with a chocolate heart powdered onto the top. It was all in the detail for such a foodie. Health-conscious Davina’s was a skinny decaf. And Mia… I tried to guess in advance, taking in the eye-catching nails and threaded eyebrows. She’d have a luxurious syrup in hers, I reckoned, with an impressive spiral of cream on top. Maybe with marshmallows for added effect.

  I got it 100 per cent right.

  But there was no one to tell.

  I missed having someone to share the frivolous things with.

  ‘So, the food bank…’ said Davina.

  ‘Yes. Let’s put our heads together. We must be able to sort this out,’ said Cara.

  I smiled. That was more like it. Cara was great at sorting things – the sort of neighbour and friend that youngsters would say ‘hashtag goals’ about. Like during the power cut last month. She’d gone out with her torch to check on the elderly people near her who lived on their own. And during the summer when I caught a stomach bug and was out of action for a couple of days she’d insisted on having Lily over for sleepovers. She brought me a nutritious stew and only left me alone after taking my temperature and refilling a large flask of tea. And when her next-door neighbour’s cooker broke she invited the whole family around for tea.

  Not that she would tell me about her acts of kindness. Other people would. Little things meant so much. People never forgot. Yet Cara wasn’t a pushover. She hung up on cold callers and confronted locals who didn’t pick up their dog mess.

  That’s why Davina and I were worried. She was still kind and helpful but recently seemed to have lost her edge.

  ‘I spoke to Ron outside your house, Fern, on Monday night,’ said Mia, picking up a mince pie. ‘He’s so passionate about his work and made me want to volunteer.’

  ‘Let me know if you’re serious,’ said Davina, and finger by finger eased off her leather gloves. ‘I help out on a Friday and at the moment especially they are short-handed, sorting out all the donations. They get four times as many at Christmas. Items need to be grouped on the shelves – all the tins of beans, vegetables, pasta and jam, there’s the cartons of longlife milk and juice, plus packets of crisps and biscuits… individual carrier bags containing a mix of all this stock then need assembling, ready for people to collect. It’s a mammoth operation.’

  ‘How much time do you give up, on one day?’ Mia asked.

  ‘I’m there from after the school run until half past two – effectively for school hours. It’s not for the faint-hearted though, so I’d give it some thought.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Cara.

  Davina put down her gloves. ‘It’s upsetting. Seeing first-hand people’s dire situations… the anger you feel at how the system is letting down those most vulnerable. Take last week – a man came in. He missed a Job Centre appointment because his daughter was in hospital, critically ill. Despite explaining why he was absent, his benefits were sanctioned for three months. And then there are those with mental health illnesses. Don’t get me wrong, it’s very rewarding, but I’d steer clear if you’re a sensitive soul.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Although you might be the perfect candidate, Mia. I imagine you hear all sorts from your clients.’

  ‘Yes. My regulars become friends. They trust me and let me into their world. Abusive partners, bullying bosses, mental breakdowns… I’ve listened to heart-wrenching stories over the years. Some might think the beauty business is a shallow industry but it never ceases to amaze me how a stroke of varnish or a back massage can lift a client’s mood. Self-care is so crucial and I like to think my salon helps people realise they are important too. In fact… I haven’t mentioned it to Ron yet but I wondered about offering free beauty treatments if I volunteer. Like a massage. Or nail manicure. Just to put a little bit of sunshine into somebody’s life… or do you think that’s stupid?’

  ‘No, that’s a lovely idea,’ said Cara. Davina and I nodded.

  Mia blushed. ‘Not that a few beauty sessions will help pay the food bank’s rent…’

  ‘But you’ve got another plan, right, Fern?’ asked Cara and undid her cardigan – her latest knitting project. At the suggestion of Lex it had two pockets with owls on – because her mummy was so wise

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Polly.’ I looked at Mia. ‘She was the school secretary who died earlier this year.’

  She nodded. ‘The fair is to raise money for a cancer charity, right?’

  ‘Yes.’ I turned to Davina. ‘You told me that years ago her husband had been homeless and right up until the end she volunteered in a soup kitchen.’

  ‘He grew up in children’s homes. The lack of support when he left the care system meant he was soon sleeping rough.’

  My hands hugged the steaming mug in front of me. ‘I reckon Polly would consider the proceeds from the fair going to the food bank as a fantastic legacy. If you all agree, I’m going back to the school to suggest to the Head that we organise a different fundraiser for cancer next year and give this fair’s profits to the food bank instead.’

  ‘Oh my God! Why didn’t I think of that?’ Davina clapped me on the back. I almost choked on my drink. ‘It’s perfect. Going by the way parents have rallied around the idea of a living calendar I’m sure they’ll be supportive.’

  ‘But will even that raise enough?’ asked Cara, playing with the mince pie on her plate. ‘We’ll just all have to work extra hard. And it might be nice if the Head rings Polly’s husband first, to talk it through, as a mark of respect. I got chatting to him in the village a couple of weeks ago. He’d given the Head details of a specific hospice charity that made Polly’s last weeks much cheerier than they could have been.’

  ‘You could suggest the school sends out a letter,’ said Mia. ‘Just as a matter of courtesy, to inform pare
nts – although many of them will have heard Ron’s talk outside your house on Monday.’

  ‘Are you all set for your evening?’ Cara said. ‘When is it? Friday?’

  ‘Yes, Megan’s babysitting, I’ve just got to decide what to wear,’ I said, her comment triggering thoughts of my meeting with Neil.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you, Fern!’ Cara’s eyebrows knotted together. ‘But now I’m intrigued. What’s so difficult to decide? A thick coat and hat will be the order of the day, what with standing outside Mia’s house.’

  I put my pen on the table. ‘What?’

  ‘Fern wasn’t talking about the calendar, were you?’ said Davina and leant forwards. ‘Fern Fletcher – are you going out on a date on Friday night?’

  Cara threw her hands in the air. ‘I was last to find out about a date last time as well!’

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it a serious… you see…’

  ‘Dear God, just look at that nose grow,’ said Davina and took away my notepad. ‘You can have this back when you’ve shared all the details.’

  I pulled a face. ‘It’s just dinner. At the Normandy Snail again. He’s called Neil.’

  ‘That’s a strong, steadfast kind of name,’ said Cara. ‘I like him already. Where did you meet?’

  ‘Um… online.’

  ‘A dating website?’ asked Mia.

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Tinder?’ Davina leaned closer.

  I re-applied my lip balm. ‘Yes. And before you—’

  ‘Gosh. Well done,’ she said. The others nodded. ‘That’s brave. A couple of my friends have met their partners that way. They say you can get some quality dates, once you learn to recognise the dodgy matches and swipe them away.’

  Hearing those words felt reassuring. Mia also talked about clients of hers who’d had good experiences using that phone app. She said I’d inspired her to give it a go herself.

  ‘To get over my latest disappointment,’ she added.