Christmas Gifts at the Beach Cafe

by Lucy Diamond

  Never mind, I told myself. It was Christmas Eve tomorrow and it would be lovely to see the children hanging up their stockings and becoming feverish with excitement. I just wished Ed could have been there to share it, too.

  I reached the village hall and pushed open the door, to be hit by a wave of heat and noise. Oh, my goodness. How many people? I had been vaguely expecting a genteel affair: a few white-clothed trestle tables with half a dozen entries, a polite, hushed atmosphere of anticipation. Instead, it felt more like a jumble sale: a crush of people, a hubbub of voices and a steamy cinnamon-scented fug that had me unzipping my coat immediately.

  Slightly overwhelmed, I gazed around blankly for a minute before spotting my fellow judges, clipboards in hand, at the far end of the hall, beside three long rows of tables laden with baked goods. The tasting was all to be done blind, so that we couldn’t be swayed by favouritism or friendship, but I could see plenty of familiar faces in the gathered hoards – Annie, Betty, Florence, Martha – and hoped I wasn’t about to insult any dear friends.

  By the time I made it across the hall, sweat was trickling between my shoulder blades. ‘Evie, welcome,’ cried Sarah, who was immaculately turned out in a dove-grey woollen dress and glossy brown boots. I found myself wishing that I’d dressed up in something smarter than the cornflower-blue shirt and clean jeans I’d thrown on back at the flat; I’d had no idea this was going to be such a major event.

  ‘Hi,’ I said weakly, fanning myself with the clipboard she gave me. ‘Is it me, or is it roasting in here?’

  ‘It is a bit warm,’ she said, although Graham and Ella, my cheffy judges, didn’t look put out. Used to working in hot kitchens, of course; the temperature in here probably barely registered.

  Sarah introduced herself and us, then declared that the judging was about to begin, which prompted cheers and applause. The noise seemed to bounce off the walls and windows and I put a hand up to my eyes for a moment, feeling the beginnings of a cluster headache. I pulled at the neck of my shirt, still too hot. It was so airless in here! Hadn’t anybody else noticed?

  ‘We’ll start with the Christmas cakes,’ Sarah went on, and I tried to focus on the amazing display in front of us. Some of the cakes looked fairly traditional, featuring fondant snowmen and penguins on snow-white royal icing, or tiny fake Christmas trees with Santa figures. Other bakers had been more adventurous. I smiled at the cake with a surfing marzipan-Santa riding a curling, blue-icing wave, and admired the square cake decorated to look like a beautifully wrapped present. The next cake along had a full woodland scene on its top, with glittery snow dusting the roof of a chocolate-finger-walled cottage. Another entry featured flying reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh. I leaned over, appreciating just how finely the icing antlers had been sculpted, but then my head rushed and I had to straighten up again, rocking back on my feet and hoping I didn’t look too crazy.

  I tried to ignore my dizziness and concentrate on what Sarah was saying. Something about what a shame it was to have to cut into the cakes, but you know what they said about the proof of the pudding, ha-ha.

  Laughter rippled around the room and I swayed again on my feet, clutching hold of the table. I licked my lips and everything went black for a second.

  ‘Sarah,’ I said, but the word didn’t come out properly. ‘I don’t feel very—’

  And then my legs went to jelly and, the next thing I knew, my fingers had slipped from the edge of the table, and the floor was rushing up to meet me, dizzyingly fast.

  ‘Evie? Evie, can you hear me?’

  ‘Stand back a bit, give her some air.’

  ‘Do you think we should call an ambulance?’

  ‘Wait a minute, let’s see if she comes round. Evie? Evie, love, it’s Annie.’

  My eyelids flickered and the world seeped back in. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the floor with a circle of worried faces looming over me. Mortifyingly, the first word that came croaking out of my mouth was ‘Cake’.

  A woman crouched beside me and her face slid into focus. Annie, I thought dazedly. That’s Annie. And then the whole scenario clicked back into place. Christmas Bake-Off. Village hall. Surfing Santa. Too hot.

  ‘Are you okay, Evie?’ Annie asked. ‘You’re in the hall – you just fainted.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Could someone bring her some water, please?’

  Sarah was kneeling down on the other side, a cool hand on my arm. ‘Does anything hurt?’ she asked. ‘You took a bit of a tumble there.’

  I struggled to sit up, feeling a total idiot. Everyone was staring at me; I could hear whispers rustling around the room and a stifled giggle. This would never happen to Ruth, I thought. What a show I’ve made of myself once again, in front of the whole flipping village. They probably all thought I’d been at the sherry.

  ‘Easy now,’ Annie said cautiously, putting a hand on my back for support. Somebody passed me a glass of water and I took a sip.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, my voice wobbling. I’d fainted, I kept marvelling. This had never happened before. Fainting was so dramatic and Victorian. I’d always wondered what it would feel like. Now I knew. Embarrassing, mostly.

  ‘I think we’d better get you home,’ Sarah said sympathetically. ‘Let me see, who can we ask to run you back?’

  ‘Honestly, I’m okay,’ I said. ‘I just need a minute.’ Then I tried to stand up and went all woozy again, my limbs rubbery, as if they didn’t actually belong to me.

  ‘Not so fast, missus,’ Annie ordered. ‘I’ve got the car outside – I’ll drop you back at the café. Graham, could you give me a hand?’

  Embarrassment heaped upon embarrassment. Humiliation loaded on shame. Now I had Annie and Graham helping me out of the building, each with an arm around me, while everyone watched. ‘I feel such a plonker,’ I groaned, trying not to catch anyone’s eye as we went outside and down the steps.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Annie replied, clicking open the lock of her little Mini with the key-fob. Between them, they manhandled me into the passenger seat and clipped in my seatbelt.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said weakly to Graham.

  ‘No worries,’ he said, giving the roof of the car a friendly slap.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled to Annie as we drove away.

  ‘Not at all. I just hope you’re not coming down with something, right before Christmas.’

  The thought had occurred to me too, and I leaned my head against the window with a little sigh. If I had to ask Ruth to cook her own Christmas dinner, on top of everything else, she might never forgive me. She’d probably brain me with the frozen turkey, even if I was on my deathbed. And that’s for Mr Woffles, she’d screech, pelting me with Brussels sprouts.

  Annie pulled into the car park behind the café and I jerked in my seat. Not because of her driving, but because I’d seen a red Volkswagen already parked there. Ed’s red Volkswagen. Huh? Was I hallucinating, as well as fainting, now?

  ‘That’s Ed’s car,’ I said, scrubbing at my eyes with my fists and looking again, in case I’d imagined it. I hadn’t. What on earth . . . ? Adrenalin and excitement roared through me and I forgot all about the fainting episode, scrambling out of the car just as soon as Annie yanked on the handbrake. Ignoring her calls to wait and let her help me, I ran up the metal back steps to the café, light-headed and confused. Ed had definitely said he’d be home after Christmas. Definitely! Just last night he’d said it. So what was he doing here now?

  I burst into the kitchen through the back door, my dizziness catching up with me two seconds later. ‘Ed!’ I cried, swaying in the doorway. I clutched at the sink unit for support as the black fainting-feeling returned with a vengeance. Whoa. Not now. Not again, I pleaded.

  ‘Surprise!’ he said and I blinked, half-expecting to be hallucinating this entire scene, but no, Ed was really there, like a mirage in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee with his mum.

  ‘Victoria,’ I said, staring from one to the other like a lunatic. Goodness, she did look awful:
gaunt and pale, with barely a smidgen of make-up on her face. ‘What are you . . . ? I don’t understand.’

  Annie caught up with me just then and put her hands on my arms. ‘Hey, you, sit yourself down and take some deep breaths,’ she ordered, guiding me to the nearest chair. ‘She’s just fainted up at the village hall. Out cold on the floor for a few minutes.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Ed, jumping up and hurrying over. ‘Are you all right, Evie? What happened?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said dazedly, reaching out to hug him. ‘Better for seeing you. So much better! But why are you here? Not that I’m not delighted. I am! Just . . .’ I shut my mouth hurriedly, aware that I was babbling. ‘Sorry,’ I added, not wanting Victoria to think I’d become a complete weirdo overnight. ‘Bit overexcited. Bump on the head.’

  I could see Annie and Ed exchanging worried glances. ‘I think I’ll make you a cup of tea, my dear,’ Victoria said, rising to her feet. In the past she’d always looked quite cool and glamorous, Victoria, with her bob of white-blonde hair, perfect eyebrows and tasteful wardrobe of neutral-coloured drapey clothes. Now, though, she seemed to have unravelled. Her hair had grown out of its style, her eyes were dimmed and even her elegant hands looked rough and chapped, as if she’d stopped bothering with anything so frivolous as hand-cream. In the space of a few months, grief had turned her into a sad little old lady, a husk of her former self. No wonder Ed had been so concerned.

  ‘I’ll get back to the bake-off then, now that I know you’re in safe hands,’ Annie said, looking from me to Ed. ‘Give me a ring if I can do anything, okay? I hope you’re feeling better soon. And happy Christmas!’

  I was starting to feel a fraud for having everyone fuss over me. When I was sitting there with a chair beneath me, I felt perfectly steady and normal after all. ‘Thanks, Annie. Good luck in the bake-off. Break a leg, or whatever they say. Break an EGG! Do you get it?’

  Everyone ignored my terrible joke, which was probably just as well. The bump on my head seemed to have caused a malfunction with my sanity filter.

  ‘Bye, Annie,’ Ed said, seeing her out.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Victoria, putting a cup of tea in front of me. ‘You do look pale, darling. What happened then?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said and stood up so as to hug her. She felt so brittle in my arms that it was like hugging a little bird. Oh, Victoria, I thought with a pang.

  ‘What happened?’ Ed prompted and I realized I hadn’t answered his mum’s question.

  ‘I just felt really hot and dizzy,’ I said, sipping the tea gratefully. ‘It’s happened a few times lately, but that’s the first time I’ve ever actually fainted. I’m a bit tired, that’s all.’ I shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it. ‘Maybe the stress of judging the village bake-off was too much for me. Anyway, how are you two? This is the nicest surprise I’ve had in ages, seeing you both in the café kitchen like this. You are staying for Christmas, I hope?’

  Victoria glanced from me to Ed uncertainly. ‘Well . . . Yes. I’d love to,’ she said. ‘If you’re sure that’s all right? Ed did say it would be, but I still feel dreadfully rude, turning up unexpectedly like this. Have you definitely got room for me?’

  ‘We absolutely have, Victoria,’ I said. ‘And it’ll be lovely to have you here.’ Hot tears suddenly spurted in my eyes. ‘Sorry,’ I said, wiping them away. ‘I just really missed you, Ed. I’m so happy to see you again.’ I gave them both a watery smile, wishing for the hundredth time that I could be a bit cooler and more grown-up, rather than wearing my heart on my sleeve quite so blatantly. Then I hesitated, wanting to ask what had changed their minds from the London Christmas they had planned, but I wasn’t sure how to phrase it without sounding crass.

  ‘There were too many memories of Michael in the house,’ Victoria said, as if reading my mind. ‘I kept remembering all the Christmases we’d shared together, all the presents and dinners and laughter.’ She wiped her eyes with a crisp white handkerchief. ‘With every new Christmas card – “To Victoria”, rather than “To Victoria and Michael” – I just felt more and more sad, despite all of Ed’s sterling efforts to jolly me along.’ She gazed into the middle distance, looking far away for a moment. ‘We decided a few distractions would be better than moping around miserably,’ she said eventually. ‘Besides . . .’

  I heard the front door of the café crash open just then, followed by racing footsteps and what sounded like thirty children all bellowing at once. ‘Evie! Evie!’

  ‘Talking of distractions . . .’ I said, pained that Victoria was being interrupted at such a sensitive moment. ‘Sorry about this.’

  She smiled. A slightly wan and weary version of her former twinkly smile, admittedly, but a smile nonetheless. ‘Not at all. This sounds like the best kind of distraction,’ she said, just as Hugo came bursting into the kitchen, followed by Isabelle.

  ‘We found her!’ Hugo cried, his face lit up. ‘We found Bella!’

  ‘Oh, well done!’ I cheered, forgetting all about the fainting episode and jumping up again. Whoaaa. Head-rush. I sat straight back down, the dizziness swirling around my temples as if I was drunk.

  Ed caught my eye and I could see the concern in his face. ‘Stay there, you,’ he ordered.

  ‘She’d hurt her paw!’ Isabelle cried, desperate to get the story out before her brother.

  ‘She was in this sort of cave!’

  ‘And the tide was coming right in, and we had to get this man to help us!’

  ‘And he was so pleased, he hugged Mum – and we were like: Eww, gross, Muu-uum.’

  ‘But he’s nice really, and we met his children and he said he’d take us all out to lunch tomorrow. Even you!’

  Their voices jumbled together faster and faster, and I put a hand up to stem the flow. Then Thea rushed belatedly into the kitchen. ‘Geth what?’ she cried. ‘We found Bella! What?’ she asked crossly, putting her hands on her hips as everyone laughed, even Victoria. ‘What’s tho funny?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, ruffling her hair. ‘Look, Uncle Ed’s here! And this is his mum, Victoria. Now, where’s your mum? I need to hear the whole story from Ruth. Especially the hugging bit.’

  Chapter Eight

  Ruth

  It had all turned out just like something from a Famous Five book in the end, Ruth thought, as she recounted the story to Evie, Ed and Victoria. For some unknown doggy reason, when Ruth had opened the café door that dark, cold morning, Bella had trotted round to the next inlet going west along the coast. Maybe something had spooked her and she’d dashed away in fright, then not been able to work out how to get back – who could tell. At some point though, she’d scraped her paw, because when Ruth and the children found her, she was limping a little, and kept stopping to lick the pads on one foot. With the tide fast coming in and threatening to block off the route back round to Carrawen, Ruth immediately phoned Robert, who arrived minutes later with two children in tow.

  Robert and the children were overjoyed to see Bella again, and she them. There was a volley of delirious barking and tail-wagging, plus shrieks of happiness from Robert’s children.

  ‘We found her,’ Thea said grandly. ‘We thaved her.’

  Robert threw his arms around Bella in relief and then, as Hugo had reported so disdainfully, he threw his arms around Ruth, too.

  ‘Oh!’ Ruth squeaked in surprise, but before she knew what she was doing, she was hugging him back. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience. In fact, it felt pretty bloody nice to have a man’s strong arms around her again. Even if it was a complete stranger, and all her children were gawping at her with unmitigated horror.

  ‘We’re so grateful,’ Robert said, releasing her again. ‘I can’t tell you how relieved I am. Thank you so much.’

  ‘No problem,’ Ruth said, feeling herself blush from the praise. She was so pleased, she didn’t even shout at the sight of Thea with her face right up against the dog’s face, squealing, ‘Lick me! Lick me, Bella!’ We did it, she thought. They’
d found Bella, and now everyone looked so happy and proud. For the first time since her marriage breakdown she actually felt as if she was part of a team again – a newly rearranged team of four, admittedly, but that was all right. That was absolutely fine.

  ‘Thanks again,’ Robert said. ‘It’s the first Christmas for the children without their mum. I couldn’t have borne it if . . . if . . . Well, you know.’

  Ruth nodded. Boy, did she ever know. ‘It’s my first one alone, too,’ she said, grateful for the shared bond of loss. However sympathetic Evie and everyone else had been, nobody could truly understand the pain of a disintegrating marriage until they’d been through it themselves. ‘My ex and I . . . we split up over the summer.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’ Robert looked out to sea for a moment. ‘My wife died ten months ago,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s tough, isn’t it?’

  Oh God. His wife had died? Poor Robert. And poor, poor children. Her heart twisted for them all. Tim might be a cheating bastard, but at least he wasn’t six foot under. At least the children didn’t have to deal with bereavement on top of their separation. ‘It’s really tough,’ she replied, a lump in her throat. ‘I’m sorry. About your wife.’ All of a sudden she was struck by the urge to throw her arms around her children and hug them very close. She even felt a bit like hugging Tim as well, for still being alive.

  Well. Maybe not hug him. But she kind of wanted to tell him that the children – their children – were as loud and funny and lovely as ever, that they’d flipped their first pancakes and rescued a lost dog. She might even bring herself to wish him a happy Christmas. Through gritted teeth.

  ‘Mummy?’ Isabelle came over just then and put her hand in Ruth’s. ‘Can we go back to Aunty Evie’s now? My feet are cold.’

  Ruth jumped as if a spell had been broken. Of course they must go. The tide was about to come right up any second, and the temperature had plunged. ‘Yes, absolutely,’ she said, snapping to attention as Thea tripped over at the edge of the sea and soaked her trousers through. She gave Isabelle a quick affectionate squeeze, then ran over to haul up her youngest, wettest offspring. ‘Jump up, Thea! That’s it. Hugo? We need to go now, love.’