The Christmas Calendar Girls

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘You still miss your husband?’ asked Cara in a soft voice.

  ‘No. No, not really. I miss being part of a couple but the parting was amicable, despite the fact he’d cheated.’

  ‘Amicable? After that?’ Davina put down the notepad and slid it across the table back to me.

  ‘Turns out he only married me because I got pregnant.’

  I hadn’t told the others what she’d shared with me. She explained to them how the aristocratic life never felt like a good fit; how her husband had fallen in love with someone far more suitable.

  ‘I’d rather be shooting pool in the pub than shooting pigeons,’ said Mia. ‘His affair hurt but life is what it is and I’d become tired of putting on an act and toning down my clothes.’ She pulled on her shiny coat. ‘I’ve got Tommy to think of as well. I don’t want there to be an atmosphere between me and his father. It wouldn’t be fair.’ She pulled up the zip. ‘No, the disappointment was someone else. The first person since I’ve been on my own.’

  ‘That’s bound to be the hardest,’ said Cara.

  I hoped so.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll meet someone else,’ said Davina.

  ‘To be honest just making new friends will do at the moment.’

  Cara eyed her. ‘Who do you normally hang around with in the playground?’

  She stared at her mug. ‘No one really. Tommy hasn’t got a particular friendship group.’ Hastily she finished her drink.

  Cara, Davina and I exchanged glances. In the playground, a parent’s friendship groups usually reflected their child’s. With sleepovers to organise and friends coming over for tea, you soon got to know the other mums and dads – so if your child was a loner that could make fitting in a challenge for the grown-ups.

  I took back my notepad and scribbled notes for my meeting with the Head. Contact Polly’s husband, letter to parents…

  ‘How about you come to the food bank with me this Friday, Mia?’ asked Davina. ‘See if you’d really like to help? Or have you got too much on – what with you and Tommy hosting the calendar?’

  Mia looked up. ‘Really? No, no I haven’t – and I’d left the morning free to look at my accounts but I can do that at the weekend instead. I could come in from ten to twelve.’

  ‘I’ll tell Ron.’

  ‘And the idea I had… I’m not sure what you’ll think… it’s to do with the fair as well. At my son’s old school, Laurel House Primary—’

  ‘Nice,’ said Davina. ‘A couple of my friends’ children go there.’

  Mia shrugged. ‘It’s okay. I mean, sure, the facilities are great. I just felt it was a little…’

  ‘Safe?’ said Davina.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Max and I considered it for Arlo and Jasper but I’ve always wanted them to mix with children who maybe don’t enjoy as many advantages as them.’

  ‘My feelings too – although I sometimes wonder if the move I pushed for when we divorced was the right decision. Tommy is taking a while to settle.’ She stirred her drink. ‘But anyway, they used to hold an auction that proved to be a massive fundraiser.’

  ‘An auction?’ Cara wiped a moustache of milky froth from her top lip.

  ‘Yes. I’d donate a voucher for my salon, for a free treatment like a facial. Parents would offer all sorts. One mum was a chiropractor and offered a session. Another was a hair stylist. A local artist donated a painting. A baker gave a voucher to make a birthday cake to order. The school always got lots of bids.’

  What a fantastic idea. Davina said she’d rope Max in – he could offer to do odd jobs. And Cara said she’d bake a cake. Perhaps Ruby’s dad would come on board, he was a barber. And Love in a Mug belonged to the parents of a child in Year Six. I felt sure they’d donate a voucher for afternoon tea. We contemplated holding the auction as part of the calendar but felt it would attract more attention – and therefore bids – if we got permission to hold it as part of the Christmas fair.

  ‘It’s genius!’ I said and thumped the table.

  ‘Steady on,’ said Davina and even Cara chuckled.

  ‘But this could really bring in big bucks.’ I drained my mug. ‘Right. I need to get to the school as soon as possible and run all of this past the Head. In fact, Mia, you should come along.’

  22

  I got out of the taxi and stood outside the Normandy Snail. This time Davina had allowed me to dress myself – although insisted I be fashionable by turning up five minutes late. I’d opted for a loose maroon Indian silk blouse over black leggings and high heels – despite the layer of frost already twinkling and making the ground slippery.

  It had been a rush to get back from Mia’s after school. She and Tommy had done a great job. Their advent window was space-themed. Tommy wanted to be an astronaut when he was older, he’d announced in the playground yesterday. None of us had spotted the clue.

  ‘I want to be a bodyguard,’ Jasper had said back, and kicked the air as if fighting. Arlo had stood closer to his brother’s side as if pretending to be just that. Davina and I had discussed afterwards how that was the last thing we’d been expected from her gentler son.

  Tommy and his mum had drawn an astronaut, in a Michelin man spacesuit, on a large square piece of cardboard. Silver stars made out of glitter surrounded it, against a black background, lit up by fairy lights. Last night’s window, for Number Four, in an avenue next to the parade, was made up of Christmas presents and the window was stacked with all sorts of different shaped wrapped items. Wednesday’s had been a large wooden crib with a baby doll inside, surrounded by suitably themed cuddly toys including a Shrek donkey. Kit attended that evening as well but only for a short while. He could never meet up on a Wednesday night. Perhaps he liked a regular mid-week session at the gym. Over recent months it has been good to see him build a life that, when I’d first met him, had been so empty.

  Davina hadn’t turned up tonight. Jasper had stomach ache again so I’d picked up Arlo. Cara dropped him back afterwards.

  I glanced towards the restaurant’s steamy windows, edged with red fairy lights.

  Had I lost my mind?

  No. Neil and I had messaged a few times, now. He’d been polite. Funny. Not over-friendly. I was meeting him in public. He didn’t know my address. I’d been sensible.

  Everything would run smoothly.

  I went up to the reception counter. The waiter from last time came over and beamed.

  ‘I’m here with a Mr Taylor.’

  He looked at the bookings list on the computer’s screen.

  ‘Of course. Please follow me.’

  He led me to the same table as last time. I refused to tell myself that this was a bad omen. A man stood up. I could hardly breathe as I realised… he looked exactly like his online profile. Relief gushed through me as I shook his hand.

  I had trouble pulling off my gloves as I was so nervous. The waiter took my coat. Since my last visit the candleholders on each table had been decorated with holly and in the left corner of the front window stood a Christmas tree with red and gold baubles. A festive tune played in the background.

  ‘Great to meet you, Neil. This is a lovely restaurant.’ My voice sounded particularly high-pitched. ‘I can highly recommend the steak.’

  ‘I’m vegan.’

  ‘Oh… sorry, I just assumed…’

  He caught my eye and laughed. ‘No worries, Fern. High cholesterol. The doctor scared me into going on a health kick. Believe me, if it wasn’t for that I’d order meat every time.’

  ‘But vegan? Wow. That must be difficult.’

  ‘Not really. My late wife was vegetarian. I just tweak the dishes from her recipe book. Christmas dinner will be a delicious cranberry and walnut roast for me.’

  If I believed what I read in dating forums (since arranging this evening I’d visited, um, just a few) the mention of his late wife, at this early stage, should have rung alarm bells. But it didn’t. Before meeting up we’d given each other a brief synopsis of each other’s situ
ation. We’d both lost our spouses to illness. His wife – Mandy – died four years ago. He was ahead of me in the Tinder stakes, having been out on dates for over a year.

  ‘Would you like a glass of red?’ he said, lifting up a bottle. ‘Or something else?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ I said and smiled. ‘Just a small one.’

  I reached for a chunk of baguette and pulled mouthfuls off as he poured and then we talked about our favourite foods. This led onto chat about hobbies. We both loved eating out and reading. Neil enjoyed hiking and visiting art galleries. I told him about Lily and her football. We both loved Christmas. He’d gone to Lapland several times with Mandy. I told him about a snowy New York shopping trip Adam and I had once enjoyed.

  He asked about my job and working freelance. What with his busy career, we both agreed it was difficult to find time to date.

  ‘What’s the worst one you’ve been on?’ I asked as he loosened his tie.

  Yes, he was office smart for our first meeting. Cara would have appreciated that. Davina wouldn’t have minded, as long as it was teamed up with an Italian cut shirt. His looked more M&S but that was more my style.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint but I haven’t got any horror stories.’ He put down his soup spoon and nodded to the waiter who filled up his glass. ‘I’ve met some great women but the spark just hasn’t been there. What about you? Anyone else been on the scene since Adam?’

  Neil was easy going – and easy to be honest with as he was so straight-talking himself. He probably made a very good solicitor. For some reason I felt as if I could talk about Kit with him in a way I couldn’t with Davina and Cara.

  ‘Just one guy. But he doesn’t feel the same.’

  ‘It’s recent, then?’

  ‘It’s… a complicated relationship.’

  His laugh boomed across the room. ‘Tell me about it. Did I mention that I specialise in divorce? I’m always surprised how the most complex of marriages becomes very simple once the two parties have decided to split up.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘More often than not divorce gives a huge amount of perspective. Usually one of the parties has been holding onto the marriage more tightly than the other – because they feel the most love. But when there is no hope, when divorce proceedings have started and people like me get involved, it’s as if someone has given the underdog a pair of glasses and they can see the cheaters and liars and manipulators for who they are.’ He shrugged and took a sip of red wine. ‘So what’s complicated about this man?’

  I pulled up the sleeves of my blouse. ‘There’s an attraction. We kissed. But he’s backed off. He’s… had a challenging past. Says he’s not ready for a relationship.’

  Neil nodded.

  ‘But that kiss, following months of friendship – I felt real passion,’ I blurted out. What was I doing? This poor man was my date. ‘Sorry. Oversharing. How was your soup?’

  Neil reached over and patted my hand. ‘Honestly, it’s okay. This is the kind of stuff I listen to day in, day out. There’s a lot of miscommunication and hurt out there. I don’t know your background with this man – how you got to know him, and so on – but if you’ll allow, let me share a similar story. I became close to a neighbour soon after being widowed. She was good friends with Mandy. A single woman. She has a great career in finance. She got me out of the house at weekends. My family don’t live nearby. About five months on she developed feelings for me. We had so much in common – interests, our outlook on life – I began to wonder if I felt the same. One day, after a fun, relaxing trip to the zoo, I kissed her. Full on the lips. Passionately. And it was fully reciprocated.’

  I stopped eating.

  ‘I knew straightaway it was a mistake. It didn’t feel right. It felt good but there was no real chemistry. Not for me. It would have been easy to just go along with all the physical stuff but I respected her too much for that. So I kept my distance. Even so, it didn’t work out well.’

  ‘Are you still friends?’

  ‘No. I wasn’t honest. I should have just said that I didn’t find her attractive in that way, so it was easier for her to move on. She kept asking me out on a date, saying that we were meant for each other. She moved away in the end. Looking back, I wish I’d behaved better. I shouldn’t have just kissed her like that unless I’d already felt a strong attraction.’

  ‘You were grieving,’ I said and this time I reached over to him. ‘And you didn’t want to hurt her.’

  He shook his head. ‘To be honest, it wasn’t that. I was simply a coward, Fern. I didn’t want all the hassle and confrontation and possible tears. I’m not proud of it now.’

  ‘So you think perhaps kissing me made him realise we weren’t a match?’

  He shrugged. ‘No idea. But it’s a possibility.’

  The waiter came over and lifted up the wine bottle. I declined another glass. He refilled Neil’s then took away our empty dishes and the conversation shifted to other topics – Christmas movies, the weather, world politics… We chatted about the food bank. I told him how the Head had approved giving the profits from the fair to Ron instead of the cancer charity, and how she’d loved the idea of the auction. How Polly’s husband had given his blessing. Letters had gone out to update parents today.

  Neil was charming. Entertaining. Considerate. Attractive too, in a very executive, clean-cut way. I insisted on paying half the bill but he gave his card to the waiter first before I could object. I didn’t mind. It was nice to be treated.

  ‘Thank you. I’ve really enjoyed this evening.’ There hadn’t been fireworks between me and him tonight, but who’s to say a few sparklers, at least, wouldn’t be lit by another date? ‘Perhaps you’ll let me pay… next time?’

  Neil put away his wallet. ‘That would be lovely, Fern. Why not get in touch in a few months’ time?’

  ‘I… I don’t understand…’

  ‘You’re not over him. And starting a relationship at this point wouldn’t be fair on you or me.’

  ‘Not at all, his death was tough but—’

  ‘Not your husband. The man who kissed you.’

  I rubbed the back of my neck.

  ‘Fern, you seem sensitive. Intelligent. Compassionate. And because of that I can tell you’re not the sort to be able to turn off your feelings like a tap. It’s a shame. Lily sounds like a great girl. I’d love to meet her. But she’s another reason why I think it’s best to wait.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘My job probably makes me too over cautious sometimes but…’

  ‘No. It makes you empathetic and generous. Thanks, Neil.’ I gave a sigh. ‘You’re probably right. I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out. You’re great company. Good luck with everything.’

  We stood up and shook hands. He at least let me leave the tip.

  Neil left and I went into the toilets. I sat down in the cubicle and leant up against the wall. Frank Sinatra was singing about Jingle Bells. Tonight was supposed to have helped me move forwards. I held my head in my hands, hoping the cubicle would turn into the Tardis, and for just a few days whisk me away to another galaxy – after stopping to pick Lily up.

  I yanked open the door, washed my hands and hurried out of the restaurant, keen to get home and disappear under my duvet.

  However, someone stopped me dead in my tracks.

  A man outside, with dark surfer hair. Standing opposite Paula. They hugged for a long, long time then he kissed her on the cheek. She was about to get in a cab when he pulled her back for one more hug. They stared into each other’s eyes, smiled, and then she left.

  23

  I wanted to stay in the restaurant but had no excuse. I made my way outside.

  ‘This is a surprise. Hello, Kit.’

  He turned around. ‘Oh… hi, Fern.’ He peered through the restaurant’s window. ‘Very smart. Was it a good date?’

  ‘Not bad at all. I know you offered to be there if I needs be but didn’t expect you to track me. How did you do that? Through my phone? Honestly, I should report y
ou to the police. It’s an invasion of privacy!’

  ‘What? Oh right… yes… you know me, I never do things by halves,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘What are you out for, at this late hour? Been on Tinder yourself?’ I asked and tightened my coat. The frost twinkled brighter and a cold gust of air cut across my face. A pub door opened opposite and the tinkling notes of the song ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ floated across the road.

  ‘What? No, no, I was meeting… a group of friends.’

  He didn’t want me to know it was Paula.

  Kit was lying?

  I felt as if I’d been slapped across the face. He was usually so straight up.

  ‘I didn’t know you had any,’ I said, punching his arm. Or rather I didn’t know he had any I didn’t know of. He was always the first to admit that his social circle was small and I’d got the feeling that’s the way he liked it, after his partying days across the globe. ‘Were they people you met at the food bank?’

  ‘Some,’ he said and shuffled from foot to foot.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, forcing a cheerful tone. ‘We all have our secrets. Although you know most of mine.’

  ‘Fern, I don’t mean to sound elusive, it’s… just difficult.’

  ‘Like your past, in London?’

  Why did I say that? But I couldn’t help feeling a little hurt by his secretiveness. As our friendship had become stronger, we’d increasingly confided in each other. Kit had told me about his childhood. How he’d been so close to his parents and sister. Up until him leaving for university they’d watch the same television programmes and go to the cinema together at the weekend or play board games. He and his sister would happily help with the cooking and housework whilst their parents worked long hours. That explained why he hadn’t been in touch with them yet – the feeling of letting them down must have been magnified because they’d thought so much of him and he’d worshipped them back.

  And I told him about the health scare I’d had last year. The lump I’d found. I’d been terrified even though logic told me if anything was really wrong it had at least been caught very early – terrified not for me, but my little girl.