Daisy's Christmas Gift Shop

by Hannah Pearl

  ‘The meal is lovely,’ Sally assured him.

  ‘Delicious,’ Liz agreed, though I wasn’t sure she was referring to the food.

  ‘I’ll go and find two more chairs,’ the waiter said, and hurried away.

  ‘There’s been a mistake,’ a man’s voice said, and I turned to look at whom it belonged. He was dressed in a smart white shirt with a grey silk tie that he didn’t seem entirely comfortable in, given how he tugged and pulled at the collar. His glasses were thick, with heavy rims that still couldn’t hide the blue eyes, which shone behind them. His black hair was greying at the temples. I would have looked at him twice, despite my lack of interest in men currently, but for the fact that he was stood next to a girl wearing a silver dress that was so short that I hoped she didn’t have to reach for anything or we’d see far more than she had probably intended. He was old enough to be her dad, and I couldn’t help but shoot him a look of disapproval. If she had been one of my students I’d have called her aside and had a word. She was beautiful, and every man at our table turned to stare. Harry straightened his own tie and sat up straighter. She didn’t even glance at him.

  ‘Dad,’ she said, drawing it out so that the one word lasted for about three syllables. I rearranged my features to offer what I hoped was a view of patient understanding towards him instead. ‘I thought you said you confirmed our reservation? Where are we going to sit? There’s no free tables in the place.’

  ‘We’ll go somewhere else,’ he assured her. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. ‘Sophie, it’s okay, I don’t mind,’ he continued.

  ‘This is your favourite restaurant. It’s your birthday.’

  The waiter returned with a couple of black metal fold up chairs under his arm. He apologised and began to clear a space next to me to squeeze an extra chair in.

  ‘No, this isn’t right,’ the man told him. ‘We’re not with this group. I phoned up yesterday to confirm that you had a table booked for my fortieth on the second of April. Today.’

  ‘Yes, table for fortieth,’ the waiter said, gesturing at the silver helium balloons spelling out the number forty that hovered next to me.

  He opened the second chair, handed out a couple of menus that were under his arm and hurried off to collect the payment from a large group of drunken women on a hen party.

  ‘We’ll get out of your way,’ the blue-eyed man said, setting the menu down on the table next to me and gesturing to his daughter to stand up. ‘There’s that hamburger place you like a few minutes away. We’ll go there.’

  ‘It’ll be full,’ she told him, ‘plus, you hate it there. The music is too loud. The food is too greasy. It’s not exactly a special meal for such a special occasion. It was supposed to be a celebration.’ Her eyes, that were the same shade as her dad’s began to fill with tears and he put his arm around her. He kissed her hair and gave her a quick squeeze.

  I liked that he would have gone to a different restaurant that he didn’t like just to make her happy nearly as much as I liked the fact that she had clearly set her heart on giving him a lovely birthday. They seemed to hold a conversation just with their eyes. Hers not giving way yet, even as she blinked to clear tears from them. His, a little tired but kind and reassuring. He reached out once more to hug her and she let him. It reminded me of how much I loved my dad, and just how much I’d have given to have a family around me to share my birthday with.

  ‘Stay,’ I told them. ‘We can squeeze up. No reason why anyone else should have a rotten birthday.’ Sally harrumphed at me. ‘Not that my birthday is terrible, thanks to my best friend,’ I assured him.

  Sally smiled, and I handed him the bottle of wine. ‘Seriously, come and join us. Life begins at forty, why not start it drunk with a bunch of strangers?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I’m Elliot,’ our new guest said, kissing my cheek. ‘Happy birthday, and are you really sure you don’t mind us joining you?’

  ‘It’s a party, the more the merrier,’ I told him, hoping that having more people there really would cheer me up. I wasn’t sure it would work like that but I knew I had to try. Sally had worked hard to make this evening happen. I’d wallowed in my misery for a long time after Dan had left, and probably for a few years before that too, if I’m honest. Tonight marked the start of a new decade, and I wanted it to be a happier one. I just didn’t know how to make it happen, hence my being so uncomfortable in the crowd. They seemed to be celebrating a vivacious and jolly state that I wasn’t quite ready for, even though I wanted to be.

  Elliot was seated on the other side of Sally, and for a second I was sad that he was not next to me. I helped myself to another glass of wine so that I didn’t stop to think about what that might mean.

  I didn’t get much chance to chat to our new guests after that. Harry shifted his chair to ensure that Sophie sat next to him. I wasn’t sure that Elliot was best pleased, but perhaps he was just as flummoxed as I was with the whole evening. Sharing a table with a dozen inebriated teachers was a long way from the quiet meal with his daughter that he must have envisaged.

  I tried to catch his eye now and then, just to check he was okay. It was clear he’d had as much choice about coming to celebrate as I had, but each time we made eye contact Sally would whisper to me to check I was all right or Sophie would ask her dad something. It seemed that my birthday twin and I were destined not to talk after all. It was probably for the best. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get into the swing of things. Apart from Sally checking on me I couldn’t hear the conversations over the music. I’d been forty for approximately nineteen hours and my senses were already slipping.

  Eventually our plates were as empty as the wine bottles that covered our table. I’d switched to water long before and was feeling pretty sober again. Unlike my colleagues who were growing louder as the restaurant cleared. Priya was hanging onto Harry’s arm, and Liz leant back on her chair to stare at the waiter as he cleaned up around us – until he moved towards the kitchen and in her quest to keep an unobstructed view of his bottom she finally reached too far and her chair went flying. Really, as a maths teacher she should have had a better understanding of the angles.

  I rushed to help her to her feet, but was beaten to it by the waiter. I wondered if he was used to women falling over in his presence. She probably wasn’t really hurt, but when he offered her a hand to get up, she held on for longer than she needed to. Turning it into a handshake, Liz introduced herself.

  ‘I’m Giovanni, and I get off work in about ten minutes if you fancy going on for a drink,’ he told her.

  ‘I’m Sophie,’ our new friend in the silver dress said to our waiter, leaning past Liz to offer her hand to him to shake.

  ‘And I’m Elliot, her father,’ her dad said. He didn’t reach over to shake Giovanni’s hand. He did stand up, but as he was a little shy of six foot, unlike Giovanni who cleared that by a good few inches, the gesture wasn’t as impressive as he evidently wanted it to be and he hurriedly sat back down.

  ‘There’s no need to recruit the waiters. We were thinking of going on after this anyway and you’re welcome to come too Sophie, ’Harry said, giving her the smile I’d only ever seen before when school finished for the long summer holidays. He turned to me. ‘Do you fancy going on to a club, Karen?’ he asked. I was happy to be an afterthought. It made it easier to say no without upsetting anyone.

  ‘I do not,’ I admitted. It had taken enough persuasion to get me to agree to the meal. Paying a small fortune for drinks I didn’t want, being squeezed in amongst a sea of beautiful people and staying out even though I was by then really tired, just wasn’t appealing. Harry looked crestfallen, and I realised that he had been counting on the extra time out to chat Sophie up some more. ‘You guys should go though. You’re all young enough to keep drinking without waking up tomorrow and having your liver ask to be transplanted into a healthy body.’

  There were a few insincere attempts to invite me to join them, but when I was clear that I didn
’t want to go, they didn’t seem overly upset.

  ‘Dad?’ Sophie said, and I could guess how many questions she was managing to squeeze into the word that time.

  ‘You’re eighteen. I can’t stop you if you want to go for a drink.’

  She smiled at him and he continued, ‘Besides, you’ve been studying all day. You deserve a break.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I don’t drink too much and I’ll take a licensed taxi home. I’ve got my mobile and I’ll ring you if I need you. I’ve got my house keys.’

  I had to hide my own smile behind my napkin. Either they’d had this discussion many times in the past or she was the most organised teenager I’d ever met.

  He took his wallet from his pocket, handed her some cash and reminded her that she had coursework to finish tomorrow. She kissed his cheek. Giovanni brought the bill, and Elliot took the remaining notes from his wallet and tossed them on the table. I added some cash and Sally added her credit card to the pile. I wondered why the rest of my colleagues weren’t chipping in too, when it clicked. They’d been buying drinks at the cash bar because Sally had obviously bribed them to come out for a free meal. I didn’t like to ask the finer details of her finances, but I knew that she couldn’t really afford to pay. I handed her back her card and added my own to the table in its place.

  ‘Karen,’ she began, but I shook my head.

  ‘Let’s call this an extra birthday present from an absent friend.’

  After that Sally didn’t argue any more, and I decided that given how raucous our group had been it would be polite to add an extra tip. Why not? Until the divorce was finalised my soon to be ex-husband Dan would be picking up the bill. I tapped in a number that was roughly equivalent to half of the total cost of the meal again and handed the machine back to the manager. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the numbers, but I nodded to assure him that it was correct. He ripped the receipt from the machine as it finished printing and handed it to me with a small bow.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Sally said. ‘Trevor got back from a conference this morning, the kids are out and we’ve got some catching up to do.’ She winked and I was glad that some marriages were more loving and successful than mine had been. I kissed her cheek and she left too.

  The cleaning staff began to sweep the floor and lift chairs onto the tables around us. The manager returned with a tray containing two oversized mugs. Each held a small scoop of ice cream. It was flecked with specks of vanilla and, despite feeling full, it would be shame to waste it.

  ‘On the house, with thanks for your generous tip,’ he muttered. There were also two small chrome jugs that held steaming espresso. He poured the coffee over the ice cream, handed me a spoon and watched until I tried it. The coffee was strong, but the creaminess of the dessert mellowed the hit of the caffeine.

  ‘Mmm.’ I closed my eyes as I took a second spoonful.

  Elliot laughed and poured the coffee into his own mug. ‘I think I’d better try this, given your reaction to it.’

  The manager, satisfied that we were enjoying the treat, gave another of his formal bows, and walked back towards the kitchen.

  ‘There’s enough caffeine in here to keep me awake all night and yet I still can’t stop eating,’ I moaned, licking another spoonful clean.

  ‘I’m sorry this wasn’t the evening you had in mind,’ I told Elliot.

  ‘Thank you for sharing your table and letting us join you. I’m glad for Sophie that we were able to stay.’ It spoke volumes to me that even on his birthday his first thought was for his daughter.

  ‘So you’re a second of April baby too?’ I asked, though it was obvious that he was. Otherwise the mix up with the table booking wouldn’t have happened.

  He nodded. ‘Ten minutes earlier though and my parents used to joke that I’d have been an April fool. I’m not sure I’ve ever managed to convince them that I’m not.’ For a second the vitality that shone in his eyes seemed to dim. I reached across and patted his right hand. He covered mine with his left, just for a second.

  ‘It was nice to meet you tonight, Karen,’ he said. ‘It has made what I thought would be a tough day much easier.’

  ‘For me too,’ I assured him. I wondered if he would ask why but the question never came. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved about that or not. Something about the way he made eye contact as he listened had me on the verge of opening up to him, despite how recently we had met.

  The last few customers paid their bills and left and the manager emerged. He handed Giovanni a broom and sent him off to begin cleaning up with a dismissive wave of the arm. I wondered if he was in trouble for flirting with the customers. The manager began switching the lights off around us.

  ‘Do you think they want us to leave?’ Elliot asked.

  ‘Maybe that’s why they brought us the coffees, to stop us falling asleep here.’ I lifted the mug and took another hearty mouthful.

  ‘Or to give us the energy to get moving quickly,’ he added.

  I chuckled and began to gather my jacket and handbag.

  ‘Did you want to take your balloons?’ Elliot asked, gesturing at the numbers floating above my head. I’d been ignoring them all evening in the hopes that they would disappear. Sadly it hadn’t worked.

  ‘I don’t think I want the reminder,’ I told him. ‘You take them. Call it a birthday present.’

  He laughed and lifted the strings that held the balloons to their weights. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘Sophie will enjoy teasing me with them.’

  We left the restaurant and hit the street as a group of young men walked past, jostling and insulting each other’s parents as men do to show their affection. Elliot raised his hand until it rested gently on my arm. It wasn’t an overly protective gesture. He’d have been no match for the group of them, and I’m sure he knew it. Besides, they were too busy searching for the next destination for their drinking session to take any notice of it. Still, it was comforting and I realised how much I had missed the simple touch of another person.

  We walked down Bridge Street until we reached the point where the busy road became a bridge across the river. The April evening had long since become cool and the punts that were usually busy taking hordes of tourists on tours of our historic city had long since been tied up for the night.

  ‘My bike is locked up here,’ I said, pointing to the stack of bicycles locked in a heap to a rusted rack.

  ‘We took a taxi,’ Elliot said. ‘Sophie said she couldn’t cycle in her dress. Heaven forbid that teenagers dress appropriately for what they’re doing as opposed to picking their outfits and making their circumstances match their clothes.’

  ‘I miss those days,’ I joked, bending to put the key into the lock to release my bike. Lifting the bike clear of the tangle of frames and wheels, I spotted the puncture. ‘Damn. Looks like I’m walking too.’

  ‘Walk you home?’ Elliot offered.

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t want to put you out. I’ll just stick to the main roads. Besides, I’ll most likely know any kids I bump into from school.’

  ‘Have a happy birthday,’ he said, placing a kiss on my cheek.

  ‘And to you,’ I said, waving as I began to push my poorly bike over the bridge and up towards the traffic lights. I rounded the corner onto Chesterton Road, feeling the breeze as an empty bus thundered past me. It was slow going, and my arms were beginning to ache from the weight of the frame. By the time I passed the old lock keeper’s cottage a litany of curses were thundering through my mind. If I had been cycling as planned, I’d have blown past it, taking the direct route down the riverside. As it was I wasn’t yet halfway.

  As I passed Mitcham’s Corner I was beginning to lose the will to live, and was seriously considering either locking my bike and going back for it the next morning, or just leaving it where it was and hoping that someone would pick it up, fix it and give it a new home. The double doors of a pub opened, spilling the sound of a live band onto the pavement alongside the group of g
irls laughing and hugging as they made their way to their own bikes. I watched them cycle off, wobbling and waving at each other. They looked so happy and for the first time in forever I felt a little of my anger slipping away and I wanted to feel like that too. Filling the now empty space on the racks, I chained up my bike and went inside.

  When I had last been single, all of those many moons ago, I had hated going into a pub alone. I would hang around outside, making calls on my mobile or pretending to find something interesting in my handbag just to fill the time until my friends arrived. But now, newly forty and a lot less sociable, I was at ease on my own. Plus a nightcap might help soothe the buzz of the caffeine that was still humming through my body, leaving me feeling restless and unsettled.

  Squeezing in to a gap at the bar, I dug a ten-pound note out of my handbag and waited until I finally caught the attention of the young man behind the bar. Again, in days gone by I might have been tempted to pop a button on my blouse and lean forward to see if I could get served more quickly, but these days my bras were less a feat of construction, pushing my wares up and out with their scaffolding, and instead were more comfortable and practical. I tried to pretend that buying them in black was enough to keep them from being boring but it probably wasn’t true.

  He finally finished serving a man with a plaid shirt, long beard and an overly fussy demand for how his pint should be poured and came to ask what I wanted. ‘Double whisky, please.’

  ‘Not another espresso?’ shouted a voice behind me, and I turned to find Elliot, holding half a pint of something dark brown and frothy in one hand and the balloons in the other. Without stopping to think I reached forward and kissed his cheek. I surprised myself by my action and put it down to the leftover Prosecco still in my system, but as Elliot didn’t seem to notice I pretended that it was just a normal behaviour for me.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ he offered. I lifted my tumbler to show him that I had one. ‘You’re not in any rush to go home either?’ he asked.