Christmas Cakes and Mistletoe Nights

by Carole Matthews

  Things must be bad.

  ‘How many handbags do you really need?’ she sighs.

  ‘You sound so fed up.’ I try to be sympathetic as she seems to have completely lost her way and that breaks my heart.

  ‘Yeah.’ She takes a drag of her cigarette and blows out the smoke. ‘Can’t deny it.’ I wonder if she regrets her decision to sell the house now.

  ‘What are you doing for Christmas this year?’ It’s always a sore subject, but I can’t ignore it. I don’t want Edie to end up on her own again and wish she’d organise to spend the day with friends or something. ‘It’ll be here before we know it.’

  She rolls her eyes and grimaces. ‘Don’t remind me.’

  ‘We’re planning on staying here all over the holiday period. Lija’s mad busy in the café – which is great, but it’s a lot of work for her. I’m helping out as best I can. Danny’s going into the city tomorrow to see if he can pick up some casual work.’

  ‘I don’t know how you cope,’ she says, ‘living hand to mouth.’

  ‘Yes. It’s not something I’d choose.’ I can’t help the small, barbed comment but resist pointing out that it was entirely her manipulation that put me in this position. Still, my life is so much happier than Edie’s, despite having to budget every penny. ‘You could come over.’

  She swigs her wine before answering. ‘I need to be here for Brandon. You know that.’

  In case he can sneak away from his wife and kids for an hour. It makes me sick, but I bite my tongue.

  ‘I should go, Edie. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow. I just wanted a quick catch-up.’

  ‘Don’t leave it so long to call me.’ Surprisingly, she fills up with tears. She cuts a lonely figure and I hate to see it. ‘I miss you, sis.’

  ‘Of course I won’t. I miss you too. We’re a bit more settled now. Better Wi-Fi and all that.’

  ‘OK.’ I see a tear roll down her cheek.

  ‘You’ll be all right, Edie,’ I try to reassure her. ‘It will all work out fine.’

  ‘I wish I had your optimistic outlook, Fay,’ she says. ‘Anyway, I’m going to drown my sorrows now.’ She holds up her glass again.

  I don’t tell her not to drink too much or dabble with any dodgy substances because I know she doesn’t appreciate it. Or listen. All I can do is try to support her.

  Logging out, I sit in the quiet of the narrowboat, listening to the peaceful silence. An owl hoots in the trees and the breeze rustles the leaves. Opening the door, I step out into the well deck and look up at the night sky. It’s cold out here, enough to make me shiver, but the moon is full and the stars are bright. I hear Danny walking down the towpath – coming home to me. He’s whistling softly to himself, Diggery at his heel, and my heart swells. I think that I’m truly the happiest person in the world. I have a beautiful man who loves me and, right now, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In my head, I was going to jump up, all raring to go. In reality, I savour being in Danny’s arms and we lie in bed far longer than we should. The milky winter sun dares to peep through the crack in the curtains. The few narrowboats that are on the move on this cold and frosty morning rock The Dreamcatcher gently in their wake and I think that I would be happy to stay here for ever.

  Eventually, I manage to force myself to sit up, but still can’t bring myself to leave the warmth of his side. So I pull back the curtains to sit and watch the ducks go past on the water. Some of them have a nibble at the weed growing on the bottom of the boat and it sounds as if they’re knocking to get in.

  ‘I’m going to walk into Milton Keynes this morning,’ Danny says, sleepily. ‘There must be a job for me somewhere.’

  ‘I’d like to come with you, if I can. Can you wait for an hour or so? I want to make a good start on today’s teas for Lija, but I might be able to skip out for a short while after that. There are a few bits that I need too.’

  ‘That would be nice. We could maybe grab a coffee together.’ He pulls me closer to him. ‘It’s a long time since we’ve been on a date.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ve ever been on one. Not properly.’

  ‘Really? I should put that right then.’

  I turn to look at him. ‘I’m happy exactly the way we are,’ I say. ‘I wanted to tell you that.’

  He smiles lovingly at me. ‘Good. I feel just the same.’

  ‘You think I’m silly, don’t you?’ I feel self-conscious now. ‘But I’ve spent so long feeling unloved that I count my lucky stars every day that I’m with you.’

  ‘All I can say is that you’re easily pleased.’

  ‘Far from it,’ I say and kiss Danny again. I press my body along the length of his.

  ‘Don’t start that, young lady,’ Danny says, mock sternly. ‘You’ll be late for work and Lija will come banging on the roof of the boat.’

  That makes me giggle. ‘She would too.’

  Danny climbs out of bed, looking as reluctant as I do. This is our little sanctuary and, the longer we live here, the harder it is to leave. Plus the sight of his naked body, lean and muscular, is really doing nothing to turn my mind to my working day.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ he says. ‘You can have first dibs on the hot water.’

  When he’s gone, I lie for a moment in the heat of his sheets, enjoying the scent of him on the pillow. When I can linger no longer, I haul myself out of bed and feel for my slippers on the floor. We have central heating on the boat, but it’s slightly temperamental and, however warm the rest of the cabin is, the floor is always cold. I guess that’s the downside of having your bottom permanently sitting in water. It makes me have a great empathy for ducks.

  In the tiny shower cubicle, I stand stock-still and let the water flow over me. Then I change places with Danny – resisting the urge to stay in there with him. After two cups of strong coffee, I leave him to go and tinker with the engine while I head to the house.

  As I walk up the garden, the clouds have mustered and the sun is hiding behind them. It starts to drizzle. The sort of drizzle that soaks you right through. Lija is already busy in the kitchen when I get there. I shake the rain from my hair and step inside, letting the warmth envelop me. There truly is no more comforting scent than baking bread and it fills the air now, telling me that Lija has already been working for a while.

  ‘I was going to get us up and running this morning,’ I remind her. ‘Rainbow and I can cope with the breakfast shift. You were supposed to be having a lie-in.’

  ‘I could not sleep,’ she says. ‘Too much to do.’

  Putting my apron on, I ask, ‘Where do you want me to start then?’

  ‘Sandwiches.’ She points at the fresh loaves piled up on the worktop. ‘Make sandwiches. Lots of them.’ So I set to.

  A while later Stan comes in for breakfast and Lija makes him some toast, then he totters off again, picking up quite a pace with his walking frame now. Comparatively.

  More customers arrive for breakfast and Lija turns to cooking their orders while Rainbow serves them. For the rest of the morning we work efficiently together, me buttering bread like a thing possessed, Lija making pastry for a cranberry, mincemeat and apple lattice pie, covering herself with a dusting of flour and muttering as she goes. Rainbow looks after the customers in her own inimitable style. While I listen to the rhythm of her chatter, I make a sticky gingerbread bundt cake in a mould that is shaped like a ring of Christmas trees. Later, I’ll ice it and sprinkle the top with some pomegranate seeds. Then Rainbow arrives and we continue to work quietly – principally because we can’t get a word in edgeways.

  ‘OMG,’ she says, curls bouncing in excitement. ‘I’ve just realised that it’s NEARLY Christmas. Nan bought me an advent calendar and I’ve got a chocolate every day and EVERYTHING.’

  To mark the occasion she’s turned up today in a dress with a skater skirt that’s covered in smiley Santa faces and has pinned up a handful of her curls in a red, sequinned bow on top of her head. She looks
like a mad elf doll.

  ‘Look,’ she beams proudly, pointing at the bow, ‘EBAY!’ She does a little dance on the spot. Lija rolls her eyes. Our customers will love it.

  ‘What are we going to do for pressies? I’m SO not organised. Are we having a SECRET SANTA present here? Are we? Are we? We should. I mean not, like, a LOT. Like, ten quid or SOMETHING but we should. Shouldn’t we? We should. Definitely should. The best bit about Christmas is the giving. Although, actually, the REAL best bit is receiving. I think Zoella said that. Or someone.’

  I don’t know who Zoella is, but I daren’t ask as then I’d be told more about her than I ever need to know.

  So Lija and I work quietly for another hour or more while Rainbow trills away happily about the joys of Christmas and so much more. When I’ve polished off the pile of loaves and have an equal and equivalent pile of sandwiches, I wipe my hair away from my forehead with my sleeve. ‘I’m done,’ I say to Lija. ‘Do you mind if I run into the city for an hour with Danny? Can you cope with the lunch rush? I’ll be back in time for the afternoon tea service.’

  ‘We can manage fine,’ Rainbow answers before Lija can. ‘I’m so happy today that I feel I could rule the WORLD.’

  And wouldn’t that be a sparkly place.

  Lija glowers at me. ‘What she said.’

  Rainbow bounces into the dining room. ‘Try not to kill her before I get back,’ I whisper. ‘Promise me.’

  ‘Promise.’ Lija is somewhat grudging. ‘But I have fingers crossed behind back.’

  ‘I won’t be long.’

  The slightly off-key sound of Rainbow singing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ drifts from the other room.

  ‘It will feel like it,’ Lija says.

  With that, I leave them both to it and go in search of Danny.

  I find him standing inside the Maid of Merryweather, scratching his head. Diggery barks hello. I climb down into the cabin.

  ‘She’s in a bad way,’ I note.

  ‘Just wondering where to start,’ he admits. ‘Turning this round is going to need some serious work.’

  ‘And some serious cash to pay for it.’

  ‘Yeah. Ain’t that life.’

  The smell of damp is terrible. Gone is the warm, wonderful scent of wood, replaced by a musty, unpleasant stench. The carpet squelches.

  ‘It’s all going to have to come out. She needs to be taken back to the shell.’

  ‘I know. Sooner rather than later too.’

  Danny scratches his head again. ‘This rain isn’t helping.’ We both look in despair at the steady trickle of water running down the inside of the walls. ‘What we need is a crisp, dry winter rather than our usual soggy one.’

  There are dark and very threatening clouds overhead. Fat droplets of water run down the windows of the boat, unrelenting. Looks as if the rain has set in for the day. ‘I’ll start chanting for better weather.’

  ‘Do one for a lottery win while you’re at it.’ He pulls me into an embrace.

  ‘I’m free now,’ I say as I lean my head against him. ‘For a couple of hours. I’ve made enough sandwiches to go twice round the world.’

  ‘Hmm, what shall we do?’ Danny says, eyes twinkling.

  ‘The plan was that we walk into the city centre.’

  ‘Ah, that.’ He lets me go. ‘Ever practical.’

  ‘We won’t be able to eat, let alone renovate the Maid of Merryweather, if you don’t get a job.’ Lija’s paying me cash in hand on an hourly rate, but it won’t be enough to keep us both.

  ‘Never a truer word spoken. Let’s head towards Milton Keynes shopping centre then. I’ll see what’s on offer at a couple of places I’ve picked out there. Google tells me that there’s a boatyard nearby too and I need a few bits for The Dreamcatcher.’ He glances out at the rain again – a steady downpour now. ‘We’ll have to take a brolly, it’s really starting to tip it down.’

  ‘I’m sure Lija would lend us her car if we don’t want to get soaked through.’ Mine is currently missing a wing due to an unfortunate mishap, so isn’t roadworthy, and we’ve no money to repair that either. It’s tucked down the far side of the garage and I haven’t yet got round to checking if the road tax is still valid.

  ‘I don’t like to ask too many favours of her,’ Danny says. ‘Besides, we’re outdoorsy, boaty types now. A little bit of rain won’t hurt us.’

  ‘I’d forgotten that.’

  He grins at me. ‘The walk will do us good. We can go down the towpath, see what’s changed while we’ve been away.’

  So we go back to The Dreamcatcher, put on our wet weather gear and make Diggery lie in his bed, which he’s distinctly unimpressed by. Then, hand in hand, we head along the towpath to Milton Keynes in search of work and the luxurious solace of a cup of expensive coffee.

  Chapter Nineteen

  We walk up through Campbell Park – a beautiful green oasis that links the Grand Union Canal to the vast, modern shopping centre. It’s currently deserted due to the rain which has upgraded itself from downpour to driving. Danny and I have our hoods up, our heads down as we march determinedly up the hill from the canal.

  ‘This is awful,’ he says. ‘Was it forecast to be this bad?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘Since we’ve not been on the move, I haven’t checked the weather as closely.’

  When we hit the shopping centre, I push back my hood and wipe away the strands of wet hair that frame my face.

  Danny says, ‘We’ll go our separate ways. When you’re done come back to the Caffè Nero on the corner and we can catch up there. If I’ve got good news, I might even shout you a blueberry muffin.’

  ‘OK. How long do you think you’ll be?’

  ‘Not sure. Shall we touch base in an hour?’

  I nod. I’ve got a few bits and bobs I need to pick up but it’s not going to take me too long.

  ‘Cool.’ With one last kiss, he disappears into the throng of festive shoppers.

  The shopping centre is looking amazing. In the main hall there’s a festive display featuring a Santa’s Christmas Express train, filled with giggling children as it chugs round a landscape of igloos populated by perky penguins and polar bears. Christmas songs chirp out of the speakers. I lean against the picket fence that surrounds it and watch the children, wide-eyed and innocent, wrapped up in padded coats and knitted hats. How lovely. Their laughter lifts my heart. Surely, they bring a magic to Christmas that most of us somehow manage to lose as adults? The fairy lights sparkle, the noses of the reindeer flash red, the fake snow falls in wisps. I get that yearning again, that funny, unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach – the pull of maternal longing. I want to be doing this with my own child one day.

  Eventually, I tear myself away and let myself be carried along by the crowd of bustling shoppers. Most are laden down with bags, gifts for their loved ones. I dip in and out of the shops picking up what I need for the boat, and then I buy a few small gifts for Rainbow, Danny, Lija and Stan. Not much as my money won’t stretch to extravagance. But I want to do what I can to make this a very special Christmas. It’s been a difficult few years and we all deserve a celebration just for surviving.

  An hour later and I’ve got all that I need for the time being. I text Danny and he replies that he has a few more shops to try and that he’ll be another half-hour or more yet. I tell him that I’ll head back to Caffè Nero to wait. So I do, taking time to do some window shopping as I go, admiring the glitzy festive displays.

  In the café, I order a cappuccino and find a table where I can watch the world go by. I gladly slip off my damp, steaming coat and try to rearrange my hair into some sort of style that won’t frighten small children. I’m not sure I manage it.

  Settling into my chair, I breathe a sigh of relief. Living on the canal has made me ill-prepared for all the hurly-burly of the shopping centre at Christmas time. Still, the coffee’s lovely – a real treat, as, for once, it’s made by someone else – and I enjoy sipping it through the fr
oth. I’m sitting daydreaming and nursing my cup to me when a voice beside me says, ‘Hello, Fay.’

  It takes me a moment to place it. Which is really quite ridiculous when you think about it. ‘Hello,’ I answer. ‘Fancy bumping into you.’

  Anthony, my ex-partner, is standing there, red-faced and sweating. ‘Doing a bit of Christmas shopping.’ He flicks a thumb towards the mayhem outside the window. ‘It’s madness out there. Jolly hard work. Needed a bit of a boost.’ He glances at the cup of cappuccino in his hand. ‘Mind if I join you?’

  I only hesitate slightly before I say, ‘Be my guest.’

  Anthony, it seems, doesn’t notice my momentary reluctance and drops into the seat opposite me. For a second I wish I looked less ragged and that Anthony had caught me all dolled up to the nines. Then I realise that was very unlikely to ever happen and, now that I think about it, I don’t give a rat’s arse what I look like to Anthony.

  ‘I thought you were still off enjoying a life on the ocean wave.’ He laughs at his own quip.

  ‘We were,’ I agree. ‘I came back because Stan was poorly and I’ve been looking after him.’

  ‘Oh no. Hope the old boy’s all right now?’

  ‘Yes, he’s fine. Thank you.’

  ‘Must be on his last legs though,’ Anthony says, dabbing at the sweat on his brow with his paper napkin. ‘Can’t be far off getting his telegram from Her Maj.’

  I look at him and wonder what I ever saw in him. There are days when I still feel as if I’m punching above my weight being with Danny – he could be with someone younger, more beautiful – but he chose me. Raggy hair, comely bottom and all. Yet I stare at Anthony and wonder how I could have been content to settle with someone like him.

  ‘Stan’s ninety-three and I’m hoping he’s got a few more years yet. He’s recovering nicely.’ Thank God.

  ‘You’ll be on your way again soon, then?’

  ‘We’ve not decided yet. We might stay put for a little while. If Danny can find work.’