by kendra Smith
‘Yes, there will be quite a few of us on Christmas Day. I’ve invited Rex and Suzie, poor thing, because, of course Suzie still doesn’t speak to her mother. Things are improving, but it’s still hard for her at Christmas.’
‘Can you imagine?’ Joyce shook her head. ‘It’s so sad, and all because of some argument, you say?’
Dawn didn’t want to dwell on her friend’s family life and her secrets, didn’t want to talk about her behind her back, explain that actually half the problem was that Suzie’s mother was as neurotic as her daughter. It all started, apparently, when Suzie, an only child, was sent to boarding school and she hated it, had always blamed her parents. She had once told Joyce briefly about Suzie having attended boarding school. Dawn had never understood why, especially when you only had one child, you’d send them away. What was the point? Apparently, it had been so that she didn’t get spoilt.
Suzie had probably been making up for the lack of love and parenting ever since. Her need to control everything must come from feeling out of control as a child. Dawn scratched her head. Well, that might explain some of it. She had listened to Suzie tell her about how her parents had always wanted to do the right thing. They owned a massive house near Chichester; her dad was a keen sailor. Suzie was given a good education, the university followed, holidays abroad but all she had really wanted, she’d told Dawn one drunken night in a wine bar, was a brother or sister. That was partly why she was so keen for her own children – to build a family – to have the messy, chaotic family life she’d yearned for herself.
‘Yes, well things aren’t always how they seem, Dawn, you know.’ Joyce looked pointedly at her, interrupting her psychoanalysis of Suzie.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Her parents could have had reasons to send her to boarding school.’
‘What reasons? They sound stuck-up to me – they wanted “the best” and look where it’s got them.’
‘Don’t be too quick to judge. You’ve only heard Suzie’s point of view.’
‘Yes, yes I expect you’re right.’ Dawn nodded, a bit distracted as she suddenly remembered her to-do list.
‘I’ve ordered the turkey and Eric mentioned something about pheasants—’ She rolled her eyes heavenward. She really didn’t like pheasants, but Eric had got one from some of his clients, and he’d found it hard to say no. Money was always a little tight this time of year, so it would mean that the Christmas dinner would go a bit further, especially as she’d asked Suzie and Rex, and now Charlie as she felt so sorry for her in the café – and to bring Tyler if she wanted, and she’d mentioned it to Daniel, who seemed delighted and said it would be lovely to have Christmas with friends.
Dawn felt herself glow. She felt she was brimming over with kindness; how she loved helping others who were less fortunate (in various ways) than herself. She was sure everyone would get on. It was going to be absolutely perfect.
38
Charlie
I just can’t help it. It’s those tiny little booties in the window. Made me come in. To this shop. Again. As the shop door closes behind me, I enjoy the cocooning warmth. I inhale the sweet, lavender-scented air around me from the burning scented candles at the till. It’s almost like a shrine in here. As I look around and smile, I put my hand protectively on my belly; it’s instinctive. Tiny mittens and white, blue and pink buttoned-up cardigans are hanging on a rack; they are so minute. I reach out and pick up a blue one; it’s adorable – there’s a little bit of embroidery on the side. It’s a sailing boat with green sails and little blue stitches for seagulls above.
Then I spot the bassinets, the Moses baskets. I am right back seventeen years ago. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? Just to have a look? Yes, it would and you know it. I shake my head to banish the inner demons. Oh, to hell with it. I march over to the baskets. The poor thing will need somewhere to sleep; surely I can just have a look.
The linen is so soft, like a rabbit’s ears. The tiny flannelette sheets, the ones covered in silver stars, are utterly adorable. I’m sure I had some similar ones for Tyler. Bundles of muslins are wrapped in peach-coloured satin ribbons and minuscule soft toys are dotted around the mattress. My heart aches.
I cuddle a velvety-soft, wide-eyed teddy bear with buttery ears and, stroking it, start singing a lullaby, which just comes to me. I hold it close, smell it and smile. Can I buy this? Am I allowed to do this? What harm would it do? Will the baby clutch it, wrap its tiny fingers around those ears? I feel like a traitor but I’ve done nothing wrong.
There’s only one thing for it. Once I’ve made my purchase, I walk purposefully towards the shop doors, open them and march outside before the assistant can see my tears.
*
It’s freezing outside. I button my coat across me and realise that it’s stretching pretty tight across my chest and straining across my tummy now. I pull my woolly hat firmly over my head; bend it low to avoid the chilly wind across my forehead and march away from the shop. Looking down at my feet means that I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone. Don’t have to say excuse me or sorry if I need to barge past them – or worse, meet someone I know and have them cheerily tell me how many days it is till Christmas; the tears building up in my eyes are threatening to unleash themselves and trickle down my cheek. I so wish I hadn’t gone into that shop. I guess it’s all the hormones. I feel like a mess.
I stand at the zebra crossing and stare at my boots. I never did use that superglue. I sigh, looking down at the fraying stitching. I glance both ways and slowly make my way across the road. As I reach the other side, someone is shouting my name behind me.
‘Charlie!’
I turn round and see Daniel marching across the zebra crossing – it’s not far from where I first saw him in his car with the learner driver; when he grinned at me across that busy street with a smile that nearly felled me there and then. I can’t help but put my hand up to my mouth to cover my grin as I see him.
He approaches me and for a minute I think he’s going to wrap his arms around me. ‘Hi there.’ He stops in his tracks and looks down at me. He’s wearing a leather jacket and navy sweater with a checked shirt underneath. ‘Are you all right?’ He touches my cheek lightly.
‘Yes fine!’ I find myself Doing Cheery to make up for the sadness that must surely be dwelling in my eyes.
‘It’s just that you look like you’ve been crying…’
‘No, it’s freezing,’ I say squishing my eyes tight. ‘My eyes always water in the cold,’ I lie.
‘Has this Killer Quiz Master got time for a coffee?’ He nods towards the top of the High Street. ‘The Coffee Cup does a good Hot Chocolate for Cold Eyes – it’s one of their specials.’ He stares at me and keeps his face expressionless.
This time, I beam at him without hiding it. ‘Sure. A hot chocolate it is.’ A million little fireflies have been lit inside me and I want nothing more than to spend some time with him. He grabs me by the hand, loops my arm across his, and we walk, arms linked, up the High Street.
‘What have you been up to?’ He is taking big strides and walking fast up the pavement, almost dragging me with him.
‘Not so fast!’ I pull my hat down with my free hand and almost have to skip to keep up with him. ‘Just a bit of shopping.’ My left hand is in my coat, with the bear hidden in there. I gently rub its ears between my thumb and forefinger. What would he think?
‘Oh what did you get?’
A gorgeous soft teddy bear for the baby I am carrying. ‘Not much. You?’ I want to change the subject.
‘Been to get some things for Mrs Norris – you know the one with the cat. She needed denture glue. I said I’d get some for her. She hasn’t quite mastered online shopping.’ He looks down at me and laughs. ‘She did get a delivery but she didn’t realise that how many times she’d clicked on an item corresponded to how many you got in your basket. She thought it was just to – what did she say – “make sure it was in her basket”. Her shopping was twenty-three tins of c
at food, one bag of carrots, eight boxes of tea bags and eight tubes of toothpaste, no denture glue.’
I stop and turn to him. ‘That’s such a kind thing to do.’
He shrugs. ‘I’m pretty fond of her.’ We’ve reached the Coffee Cup. Daniel stands with the door open for me and I walk past him, glad of the warmth of the café, as the aroma of lattes, spicy pumpkin soup and slightly burnt toast hits me.
He orders for me, something I’m not used to, and shushes me when I say it’s too expensive to have whipped cream on top.
‘If you can’t have whipped cream on top of a hot chocolate, then there’s something very wrong with the world.’ He laughs. ‘My treat anyway.’
As he comes back from ordering, and places a hand casually on my shoulder, electricity zooms up my arm, but I try to look normal. ‘And I’ve ordered two brownies as well!’ He grins, sitting down opposite me as I squeeze out of my coat.
I’d like to joke, ‘You’ll make me fat,’ but, looking down at my belly, it already appears that I am and will only bring attention to it. How long till it really shows? How long can I get away with not telling him? I’m living on borrowed time. What will happen when he finds out? The secrecy, the fact that I’ve entered into an agreement with Suzie. The fact that I haven’t told him. And why not? Because I don’t want to burst the bubble. I don’t want anything to change. I want to freeze-frame this moment in time, this world I have with him. It might be corny, but when I’m with him it really is like there’s no one else in the room. I look over and he’s staring expectantly at me.
‘Don’t you think?’
‘Oh God, sorry, miles away.’ I smile and hope he doesn’t get a glimpse of my straining buttons.
‘They said it might snow later, heavy snow – that would be magical. I haven’t seen proper snow in ages.’ He grins again. ‘Can’t wait.’ I study his face and glistening eyes and the boy he used to be emerges before me: the seven-year-old who was excited by snow, by Christmas. And then it’s gone, and the handsome bearded man is adjacent to me, his hand on my thigh, which I am trying to remain calm about.
A waitress appears and places the steaming hot chocolates and brownies in front of us.
‘What did you used to do for Christmas in South America?’ I say, picking up my teaspoon.
‘Well it was hot, for a start.’ He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of chocolate. ‘It’s a Catholic country, mainly, so they celebrate Christmas Eve, not so much Christmas Day. I got pretty used to that. Various families from the charity used to “adopt” me over Christmas. They felt sorry for me.’ He smiles. ‘Normally I’d go to a barbecue on Christmas Eve – that kind of thing, kids running around, roast pork. They’d light these beautiful “globos” – kind of like Chinese paper lanterns.’ He removes his hand from my thigh and takes a bite out of a brownie. ‘You’d stand in the street and watch them travel up to the sky, just float upwards…’ He trails off. ‘And fireworks too. It was amazing, the atmosphere – you know? But also, just not the same.’ He shrugs. ‘And on Christmas Day I’d usually be on my own.’
‘That’s sad, so sad that you didn’t have any, well, family to share it with.’
‘Not my choice, really.’ He leans his head to one side. ‘No wife, no – well, no family – my parents, remember I told you, had both died by then – not long after I’d met Lucy, actually, so even if I hadn’t been abroad – I don’t know – anyway—’
Something makes him stop mid-sentence. The mood has shifted. I watch him munch at his brownie and wipe a few crumbs from his lips. I take a sip of hot chocolate and I want more than ever to reach out and touch his face. To hold him, to make up for the years of loneliness. He seems to sense my mood and turns to look at me.
‘Don’t feel sorry for me.’ He stops munching mid-mouthful and his eyes gaze into mine. ‘I cope. I’ve always thought that events in life can be for a reason, that you meet people when you are meant to. Do you know what I mean?’
I’m not entirely sure I follow him, but I nod. I don’t think I was ever meant to have met a loser like Paul, for instance. I take a sip of my chocolate and feel the whipped cream on my nose.
‘Hold on!’ He suddenly laughs and whips out his phone and takes a picture of me. The waitress appears by our side and asks if we want a photo of the two of us. We must look like a couple, a proper couple; the thought terrifies me because of my secret, but it’s also exhilarating. I grin at her as Daniel casually slips his arms across my shoulders and I shiver. He squeezes the top of my arm as I hold my breath.
‘Smile!’ says the waitress. I wonder what that shot will look like? ‘You two look so cute!’ She grins as she hands him back the phone.
‘By the way, I’ve been meaning to say sorry for what I said last time about Tyler.’ He looks over at me. ‘About how he talks to you and everything.’
‘It’s fine, but you know, Tyler is trying hard. I want to support him. I mean, for your child,’ I sigh deeply, ‘you’d do anything, wouldn’t you?’
When I look up at him, he has the most curious look on his face. ‘Well, I wouldn’t know,’ he says softly. ‘Hey, let’s go, shall we?’ He stands up abruptly and starts to put on his leather jacket.
*
It’s snowing as we leave the café and face the chilly air. Daniel suddenly yelps: ‘Look! Snow!’ He is holding his face up to the sky and watching the snowflakes as they fall, silently, past his face. Gunmetal grey clouds are looming overhead, laden with snow, but there are still streaks of sunlight in the sky. He runs up and down the pavement and I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. I’ve completely forgotten about how it must feel to be so alive, so excited by something as simple as snow. It’s wonderful to see the genuine joy in this man.
He skids towards me and grabs my hand again. ‘C’mon!’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To my car! GoingPlacesAtAnyAge has just announced they are giving away free lifts today, and you’re the lucky winner! Let’s drive to the Merchant Hills. I can’t wait to see them in the snow and I’ve got my old camera in the boot. I want to take some shots.’
As we walk to his car he asks me more about Tyler’s photography, and I feel him squeeze my hand. I never want him to let it go.
‘Does Tyler know about the camera?’
‘No! I snuck it in the house when he was in bed. I can’t wait for Christmas morning when I give it to him.’
‘Well, he’ll love it.’
We drive to the National Trust car park in silence, but it doesn’t feel odd. There’s a strange electricity in the air and I feel very alive, wide awake. Just being with Daniel gives me energy. Once we park the car, we cross the gravelly path to the lookout point. The hills have a light dusting of snow on them, and the sun is gently setting behind the trees. The snow clouds have thinned out and a blood-orange glow from the late sun is casting long shadows across the grass in front of us. We both stand there, watching our misty breath as it mingles together.
A thought suddenly pops into my mind and I turn to him. ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’
He bends down slightly and touches my nose with his forefinger. ‘Spending it with you!’ Several butterflies start to do somersaults in my stomach and I hold my breath. ‘I’m going to Dawn’s,’ he adds, ‘and she says you’ll be there!’
I can’t believe it, I feel like a schoolgirl who’s going on a date. Daniel and I will be together on Christmas Day. And with that Daniel places the camera at a different angle, and starts to photograph me with it. I put my hand out to move the camera away.
‘Hey, don’t! I look awful!’ I laugh.
He moves from side to side getting different angles and keeps clicking. I grin as he carefully lifts the camera up and fiddles with the viewfinder. As he turns his attention back to looking at the view through the lens, dainty snowflakes land on his hair and I feel something close to perfect.
*
After a while, he stops and lets the camera hang down on its strap. He’s lookin
g straight at me. I feel a shiver up my spine as he steps closer. ‘You don’t look awful at all, Charlie Moore.’ He frowns, and looks at me with kind, gentle eyes.
I watch this man-boy who skips in the snow, who is so alone, who helps people without being asked and I wonder what I’ve done to deserve him. Suddenly, he leans in towards me, and I take a sharp breath. He places his arm around my back and pulls me close – he smells of chocolate and spicy aftershave; I inhale deeply. Then he moves towards me, puts a warm hand behind my neck and starts to make little circles with his fingers. I think I might faint.
‘In fact, you look beautiful, radiant, even, with or without whipped cream on your nose.’ And he leans down and grazes my lips with his; he is staring straight at me, as if he’s asking for permission to carry on. I find myself standing on tiptoes and gingerly lifting my face up towards him as he leans down and kisses me gently.
There’s an emotion unleashed in me that is hard to define. It’s almost like I’ve come home, met my kindred spirit. I’ve never felt so comfortable with any man in my life. Slowly, his hand travels up my back, and I feel the warmth of his fingers on my bare back. I can feel how aroused he is as his strong arms circle my waist. He pulls me closer and as we kiss in this quiet afternoon with the snow drifting magically around us, it’s obvious to me that he wants to take it further.
He murmurs something about going back to his place in my ear and then starts to kiss me on the neck. As much as I’d want this to happen, have never wanted this so much in all my life, I suddenly remember why I can’t. If I could be free of my commitments, the pregnancy, the debt, and just live for the moment, I’d let the feelings of passion ride over me. I’d not care about anything else.
I let myself imagine him taking me home, of us falling, breathless behind his front door, him pulling at my clothes, the heat between us, pushing me against the wall, as his hands travel across my belly, over my breasts, and I allow myself to be consumed by this passion that has come over me.
