A Very Vintage Christmas: A Heartwarming Christmas Romance (An Unforgettable Christmas Book 1)

by Tilly Tennant

  As she rushed around, determined not to dwell on the conversations of the previous night, her gaze fell on Margaret’s green coat, the thing that had started it all, hanging on the door of the wardrobe. Right now she couldn’t decide whether it coming to her had been a blessing or a curse. She stood and stared at it, almost in a trance. But then she shook herself, dumped the blankets she’d used on the sofa the previous night and pulled the coat on. Fresh air – that was what she needed. A walk on the beach always made everything seem better.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mondays were hard enough as it was, but if ever there had been a reason for closing the shop for the day, Dodie’s current situation was it. But her current situation was also the strongest motivation she could have had for keeping the shop open and carrying on as normal. It was only by carrying on that she’d get her life back on track, and as she kept reminding herself, the shop meant everything now. So at nine, despite her low mood and the flurries of powdery snow stuttering in windswept eddies around her door, she pulled up the shutters and painted a smile on her face ready for the first customers.

  As she stood warming herself with a little oil-fired heater behind the counter, the door tinkled. But the first body through the door wasn’t a customer at all – it was her gran.

  ‘You’re out early,’ Dodie said, forcing a cheery tone. The last thing she needed was Gran getting any sort of clue that things were amiss. She’d tell her about Ryan, of course, but in her own time, when she was quite sure what it all meant herself. ‘It’s a bit cold for you to be wandering around too.’

  ‘Oh, the cold doesn’t bother me,’ Gran said, cupping her hands and blowing into them just to demonstrate the fact that the cold clearly did bother her but she was perfectly entitled at her age to be rather martyred about it. ‘I’ve got this new tai chi class that Lesley down the road has persuaded me to try out starting at eleven so I thought I’d better bring your tea bags over first. In case you run out.’

  ‘Gran, I keep telling you I can afford a few tea bags.’ Dodie took the cloth bag Gran had just handed over and peered inside, not even commenting on the tai chi. Nothing that Gran did surprised her any more. Some days, like today, Dodie was even a little jealous of her grandmother’s social life. The bag held two boxes of Dorset tea, various packs of biscuits and some instant lattes. ‘And what’s all this other stuff? Is this for me?’

  ‘Well, I drink so much when I come I thought it only fair to help out.’

  ‘You don’t, and you didn’t need to, but thanks.’ She put the bag on the counter and pulled out the spare chair for Gran to sit. But Gran shook her head.

  ‘I won’t take a seat – if I get settled I’ll be late for tai chi.’

  ‘I can remind you when it’s time.’

  ‘Have you had any camel coats in yet?’ Gran asked, wandering over to the rails.

  ‘Not yet, but I keep looking.’ Dodie followed her gran to the rail, absently straightening the row of hangers as her gran flicked through them one by one. ‘How’s Bernard, by the way? Shouldn’t you be arranging a wedding instead of bringing teabags and worrying about camel coats?’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Gran said, her expression darkening. ‘It’s all off, I’m afraid.’

  ‘What happened?’ Dodie asked, trying hard to keep her tone neutral. But she couldn’t deny her immense relief at the news. Nobody but Gran had been happy about the wedding, and although she felt guilty that Gran was clearly bothered, no wedding would certainly make life less complicated than it already was.

  Gran folded her arms tight across her chest. ‘Astrid told me that he’s asked at least two other women to marry him this year.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘As if that wasn’t bad enough he was trying to marry all of us at the same time!’ Gran pursed her lips so tightly Dodie was afraid they might disappear into her face. ‘Imagine that!’

  ‘I’d rather not. How was he planning to make this work?’

  ‘I have no idea but I’m not going to be one of his concubines, not for anything. If he’s one of those Mormons or something he should have said before he popped the question.’

  ‘Perhaps he thought you’d say no.’

  ‘Of course I would have said no! Your grandad would be spinning in his grave to think of it, God rest his soul! And just imagine the bedroom arrangements!’

  ‘Again, I’d rather not.’

  ‘It’s terrible! Would you let your Brian have another girlfriend as well as you?’

  Dodie’s gaze went to the window. ‘Have you told Mum about this yet?’

  Gran waved a vague hand. ‘I expect I’ll give her a call later. She’ll be over the moon. Annoying really.’

  ‘I think she’ll just be relieved.’

  ‘I’m all alone in that big house. If she visited more often then I wouldn’t have to think about marrying people.’

  Dodie forced a smile. ‘She does her best, but she works and it’s hard to fit things in. We only see each other so often now because I live close, but it would have been like that for me if I still lived in Dorchester.’

  ‘Before I forget,’ Gran added, instantly seeming to forget her vexation about Bernard and his serial proposing, or Dodie’s mum and her apparent reluctance to visit, ‘there’s a carol concert in the gardens tonight. They’re lighting candles of remembrance too. I thought I might go to light one for your grandad, God rest his soul. I know you like that sort of thing.’

  ‘That sounds lovely. Want me to come and pick you up in the car?’

  ‘Oh, could you? You are a love. My legs aren’t what they used to be. And they used to be good, you know. I won Butlins’ Miss Lovely Legs in Minehead. Beat women half my age. They had a curtain over our top halves, so they didn’t know who was who. Your grandad said, go on, go up, I bet they never guess you’ve got a few years in the tank with your legs. And the judge said we could have knocked him down with a feather when the curtain came back – he could have sworn he was looking at the legs of a 25-year-old. And I hadn’t been twenty-five for a long time by then.’

  ‘I know,’ Dodie said, her smile more genuine now. ‘I’ve seen the photos. I don’t mind picking you up one bit – it might help to take your mind off Bernard to go out for an hour.’

  ‘Bernard?’ Gran frowned. ‘Oh, yes! Bernard! What a good idea!’

  Dodie smiled faintly. Gran might be as flaky as the topping of a steak pie, but an evening in her company would help take her mind off her own problems too and she didn’t take her out nearly as much as she ought to.

  ‘Thanks for asking me,’ she said. She clapped her hands together and nodded towards the seat. ‘Come on, you can spare ten minutes for a cup of tea, surely? Especially as you’ve bought a year’s supply of tea bags. I promise I won’t let you be late for your class.’

  Gran hesitated, and then she toddled over to sit down. ‘I suppose I could take the weight off for a bit. And a cup of tea does sound nice.’

  ‘Right then,’ Dodie said. ‘You watch the shop for a minute and I’ll get sorted.’

  That evening, Gran stood next to her on the path, her arm looped through Dodie’s. Though they’d had plenty of cold days recently, this evening was possibly the coldest they’d had this year, and the crisp air held the promise of snow, which had stopped and started all day but never really got going. The crowds hemming them in on all sides as they gathered in front of the old bandstand helped a little to keep the cold at bay, but underfloor heating on the pathways of the gardens would have been very much appreciated right now. Glass lanterns hung from the trees, tea lights tucked inside them and handwritten messages attached by paper tags. Dodie had wiped a tear away as she’d watched Gran write a dedication to her late husband before attaching it to a lantern of her own. Despite the busy schedule full of clubs and classes for things Dodie had never even heard of, and the flirting with pensioners and random acceptance of marriage proposals, Dodie was reminded that, above all, her grandmother battled with loneliness every single day. Her gra
ndparents’ marriage had been a love affair of epic proportions, like Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, like Lancelot and Guinevere, like the love stories you saw in films, unbreakable and everlasting, vital, touching, fiery and poignant. They’d loved each other until the end. Gran pretended that she was alright, but she’d never been alright, not since the day she’d found him on the chair in a sleep he’d never wake from.

  Over at the bandstand harassed adults raced to and fro organising crowds of children wearing different school uniforms under huge coats, a sea of bobble hats of all shapes and colours ebbing and flowing like the tide as they fidgeted and chatted, the air alive with excitement and anticipation. The voices of teachers and assistants struggled above the noise, getting more and more hysterical the louder the children got. Many of the children waved manically at the crowds, where parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles and siblings waved back. Some picked their noses or twiddled with the ends of scarves, lost in worlds of their own making, while others whispered behind their hands and giggled at private jokes. From every tiny mouth rose hot plumes of breath curling into the icy air.

  ‘Look at their little faces!’ Gran cooed. ‘It doesn’t seem like five minutes since you were that age singing in the school choir.’

  ‘Life was a lot simpler when I was that age,’ Dodie replied, stamping her feet in a bid to bring some feeling back to them. Unconsciously, her gaze flicked over the crowds, as it had done at least five, maybe six times since they’d arrived. She wondered whether she’d see Ed. The last time she’d stood here watching a performance he’d been with her, the promise of a friendship blossoming. She’d toyed with the idea of texting him today, a casual mention of the fact she would be here with her gran and maybe he’d like to join them. The presence of her gran might make it less awkward for them to make small talk and he might enjoy the concert. But her mind had gone back to his words, how he’d made it clear she wasn’t to contact him again, and she’d decided against it. Everything else he’d said might have been easier to forgive and forget, but that bit, the staying-away-from-him bit… It was difficult to interpret that as anything but stay away. She could tell him she wasn’t with Ryan any more, but would that make a difference? What had he really meant by his warning? Perhaps it wouldn’t change his mind even if she told him because she’d already rejected him and she knew it must have hurt.

  ‘So is your friend away for Christmas then?’ Gran asked.

  Dodie shook herself. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Your friend. You were telling me about her being in the Alps.’

  ‘Isla? Oh, yes. I don’t know, her mum wouldn’t be happy if she stayed away for Christmas.’

  ‘But you said her mum didn’t want her to go in the first place and I’m not surprised; I wouldn’t like it if a no-good strip of a husband who’d abandoned me with the baby for all those years rang out of the blue and wanted to wander back into our lives again. Your grandad, God rest his soul, would never have done such an awful, mean thing. He knew his responsibilities.’

  ‘I can understand what you’re saying, but it’s tough for Isla too and I understand why she’d be desperate to know more about her dad. I suppose you’d feel a bit incomplete in a way, not having that in your life. I do hope she makes it back though – it would be the first Christmas in years I wouldn’t be seeing her. And she’s supposed to do the White Christmas Dip with me this year too.’

  ‘What on earth is that?’

  ‘You know, the charity thing? Where we swim in the sea on Christmas morning.’

  Gran rolled her eyes and tutted theatrically. ‘Oh, that nonsense! She’ll probably tell you she can’t get home so she doesn’t have to do that!’

  ‘I doubt it!’ Dodie laughed. ‘We loved it last year.’

  Gran shook her head. ‘Silly idea – people charging about in the sea at this time of year. It’s a wonder the hospital isn’t full of people with flu after that business.’

  ‘It’s for a good cause.’

  ‘Couldn’t you do something a bit safer? I’m working at the Salvation Army soup kitchen on Christmas Eve – that’s sensible and it’s for a good cause.’

  ‘I could do that too if you need an extra pair of hands then as well,’ Dodie said cheerfully.

  ‘Are you going to see your Brian after Christmas lunch?’

  The smile faded from Dodie’s face. ‘I don’t think that’s happening now.’

  Their conversation was cut short by the PA system blasting out a backing track that sounded like the tune to ‘Jingle Bells’, but was so distorted it was difficult to tell. Somebody went to fiddle with it, and eventually it settled into something recognisable. A hush fell over the crowd, and all eyes turned to the front as the children began to sing along while the conductor waved his baton with wild abandon. There was obviously a method in his madness, but to Dodie it looked as though he’d got some melted toffee stuck on the end of his pointer and he was trying to shake it off. Whatever he was doing, though, he was encouraging a wonderful sound and there was something angelic about the voices of the children as they lifted into the air, pure and clear. Many of them obviously couldn’t sing a note and alone would have made a very strong case for handing out earplugs. But collectively there was nothing sweeter than the sound of a school choir and Dodie felt a very real sense of peace and happiness steal through her. She was arm in arm with the gran she adored in a crowd of people all moved by the spirit of Christmas, and whatever else was wrong in her life, just being here now could make it all seem right, if only for a little while.

  Sally had emailed Dodie to tell her that the story would appear in the newspaper on Christmas Eve. So that morning Dodie had rushed across to the newsagents before she opened up her own shop, figuring that a couple of minutes either way wasn’t going to lose her any customers. Not that she was exactly fighting them off most days, but Christmas Eve for most people was more likely to be about last-minute food shopping and token gifts than any serious vintage hunting. Back in the shop, as the kettle boiled for her first tea of the day, Dodie was looking forward to indulging in the biscuits her gran had brought over. She spread the newspaper out across the counter and started to flick through the pages until she found the story, just before the centre crease. Right-hand page – that was good, or so Sally had told her – and though it was further back in the paper than it had been last time, it was bigger.

  Julia’s Christmas Miracle

  There was a large photo of Julia and Trevor holding hands, and a smaller inset of Dodie holding the letter up. The article opened with a recap of Dodie’s finding of the letter, leading on to explain how Julia had heard about the story through the social media network of an adopted children’s support group, which had led her to travel from her home in Lancashire to Bournemouth to meet Dodie and claim the letter. It appealed for more information about Margaret and George so that Julia could track down other members of her birth family and also said that, although the letter was written by George and they now knew quite a lot about Margaret, they still had no more information about Julia’s father than what little was in that letter. Julia, it said, never knowing the identity of her father and having no name on the birth certificate, was desperate to find out who he was and about the rest of her paternal family. Sally went on to quote Julia saying that finding her father’s family would change her life and answer many questions she’d pondered growing up. Dodie couldn’t remember Julia putting it quite like that, but she supposed Sally was doing her job, turning it into living, breathing prose rather than cold reporting. Sally ended the story by reiterating her plea for information and reassuring readers that the Echo would follow up on Julia’s efforts.

  Dodie closed the paper again and put it to one side. It was telling that there was no mention of Ed this time. Perhaps Sally had felt his part in the story redundant now that she had Julia’s to tell. Even Dodie was hardly mentioned this time, not that she was sorry about it. When all was said and done, it was only right. Her and Ed’s roles were over n
ow, and it was all about Julia and her search for her birth family. If Dodie had played a part in making that possible – even a tiny one – then she was happy, content enough to step out of the limelight and wish Julia all the best.

  The shop was quiet, but then so was the whole road by the looks of things. Everyone would be down in the main town or at the markets, racing around for last-minute items. Gazing sleepily out of the window as she mused on this, she jumped as the shrill ring of her phone cut through the silence of the shop.

  ‘Hey!’ Isla said. She sounded as if she was in the next room, not hundreds of miles away. At that moment, Dodie wished she could reach through the phone and pull her into a hug. ‘How’s everything? What’s happening with your letter? The woman came to see you?’

  Dodie had explained, as briefly as only texting would allow, that Julia had come forward and she was to meet with her. It was just like Isla to ask about Dodie’s news first when she probably had a lot more earth-shattering news to tell herself.

  ‘She did,’ Dodie said. ‘It looks as if it’s all settled now… at least my part in it is.’

  ‘What about Ed?’ Isla asked.

  Dodie shook her head. ‘He’s out of the picture.’ She paused. She wanted to tell Isla about her bust-up with Ryan but it felt too complicated and messy to go into now when Isla was so far away. Her friend had enough to worry about for both of them. ‘Have you seen your dad yet?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah…’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘It’s so much harder than I thought it would be.’ There was a long sigh from the other end of the line.