Lucie nodded. “They bumped into your mother and she couldn’t keep the joy out of her voice apparently. I bet she’s told everyone, Dale!”
“Even the postman.”
“She’ll be wanting us to pose for a Christmas card soon.”
“That’s okay. I have a Christmas jumper ready.”
“Dale, be serious! All this will make it harder to call off the relationship, you know?”
He watched as a tiny line appeared between her brows. He was trying to keep everything to do with their fake relationship light-hearted, but he could tell that something else was bothering Lucie. In fact, as he studied her closely, he could see that her eyes and nose were red, as if she’d been crying.
“Has something happened?”
She chewed her lip and nodded at the box on the coffee table.
“You got me an early gift?”
“Dale!”
“Sorry. What is it?”
“My father gave it to me today. It’s full of old things… from my childhood.”
“Oh.” His stomach rolled. This didn’t sound good.
“Photographs, school reports, cards – stuff like that.”
“You’ve been through it all?”
“Yes. It was strange… kind of nice, yet also really, really sad.”
“I get that. You did have some awful hairstyles back then, Luce.”
“Shut up!” She scowled at him. “I don’t mean like that, although my hair was quite bad in the nineties, but it was going through the photos. It was lovely to look at them, but it also hurt.” She rubbed at her chest. Dale moved a bit closer to Lucie.
“You want to show me?”
“Okay.”
He sat and listened as she talked him through the photographs; some she recalled being taken, but for many she’d been so young that she had no memory of them at all. She was so cute as a child, all blonde curls and dimples, with sparkling blue eyes full of mischief. But when she got to a page that was blank, with two lighter spaces where photographs had clearly been removed, she went quiet.
“What were these photos here, Luce? Did you take them out?”
She shook her head. “It was when my mother got pregnant again.”
He ran a hand over his head. “God, I remember that. Vaguely. She…” He stopped. How could you describe what happened to Lucie’s little brother?
“Lost him. He was stillborn. Arrived too early. Now they might have been able to save him…”
“Yes, perhaps. So sad.”
Lucie leaned her head on Dale’s shoulder. “I hadn’t thought about him in ages. He’s always been just a memory, and because he never even took a breath, I didn’t know him. Not at all.”
“You were really young too, Luce.”
“Yes, there’s that.”
“I kind of remember you telling me about it in school… and I think we talked about it years later when we’d had a few beers… but…”
“It’s one of those things you just forget about – deliberately, I think. Self-preservation. Until you’re reminded.”
He moved slightly, so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled closer. They sat quietly for a while, staring at the blank spaces on the page as if they held the answers to their unspoken questions. “Did you speak to your dad about this?”
“No. I didn’t open the box until I came home, so I don’t know if he removed the photos or if it was my mother. I haven’t seen this album in years and it ends before she… you know.”
Dale flicked through a few more pages and sure enough, the photos stopped when Lucie turned twelve. The final photograph was of her twelfth birthday party. “Is that me?” He pointed at a head in the background, but it was hard to tell, as the image was dark and fuzzy.
“I think so. I had some friends round, so you were probably there.”
“Why’d she stop taking photos?” He frowned as he looked at the twelve-year-old Lucie, her face still innocent. Her life still whole. Her heart still unbroken. Her mother still there to support and comfort her.
She shrugged. “Perhaps that was when things started to change. Perhaps the camera broke, or perhaps she just didn’t get the films developed. I guess we’ll never know. There are a few odd pictures in the box too – that she might have taken then, or they could be from someone else, but she stopped putting them in the album at this point. She must have had other priorities.”
“You’d have started secondary school, she might have been a bit lost,” he suggested gently.
“Maybe.”
“So what else is in there?” As he’d done thousands of times before, he wished he could help Lucie, take away her pain. But he couldn’t. All he could do was be there.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Dale was wiping away tears of laughter.
“Oh Luce, I can’t believe you were so bad at P.E.”
“I was never the athletic type, Dale. It’s not that funny.”
“But this comment here… Lucie could try harder in gym class. Deliberately throwing herself at the high-jump bar so she can spend the lesson sitting on the benches talking to her friends does not qualify as making an effort.”
“Well if I hit it off three times, I got to chill out. It seemed ridiculous to keep on trying when I was rubbish at it anyway.”
“And this one… Lucie must try not to throw the discus straight at her teacher’s head.”
“Well, she kept telling me to spin around before I let go. I told her and told her that I couldn’t do it but she wouldn’t listen. So when I did spin and release the damned thing, I couldn’t help what direction it flew off in.”
“Did it hit her?” Dale pictured the P.E. teacher being knocked out by a discus.
“No. But only because she had lightning-quick reactions and she ducked in time.”
“Oh, Luce! You’re so funny.” He wiped his eyes again then looked at her.
In the late afternoon darkness, with just the lights from the tree and the two floor lamps, the lounge was cosy and festive. Lucie had pulled her hair into a messy bun, and some of it had sprung out so that tendrils hung around her cheeks and over her forehead. Dale pushed a curl away, but it bounced back into place. He tried to speak, but his voice was lodged in his throat, so he just stared at her instead.
She was beautiful.
She was perfect.
She was his soul mate.
But he had always known that.
She leaned forwards and kissed his cheek, then slid her arm over his chest and snuggled into him. And he wondered if she could feel his heart beating hard, if she suspected at all that it did so just for her.
That it had always done so.
Just for her.
* * *
Lucie and Dale paused in front of the stall and waited for Glenda and Hank to catch up. The trip to the Tonbridge Christmas market was an annual affair for Dale’s parents, and this year Glenda had insisted that Dale and Lucie tag along. Lucie didn’t mind; she was, in fact, quite enjoying the Sunday morning stroll around the pretty festive stalls with their colourful crafts. The market catered to a wide variety of needs and there was so much to see: from cakes to preserves, clothes to boots, jewellery to dog beds. The stalls were decorated with holly, ivy and mistletoe, and elaborately decorated Christmas trees were dotted around the perimeter of the long stay car park, making its mundane everyday purpose easy to forget.
The fresh winter air was fragrant with mulled wine, donuts, crepes and hog roast, and although it was only mid-morning, Lucie’s stomach rumbled. She hoped that they would stop for refreshments at some point so they could savour the delights on offer.
“See anything you like, Lucie?” Glenda squeezed in next to her and eyed the pretty silver jewellery.
“I have to be honest, Glenda, it’s all beautiful.”
“Dale!” Glenda reached around Lucie and tapped her son’s shoulder. “Perfect opportunity here, you know.”
Lucie was suddenly too hot in her woollen
coat and black beret. She loosened her scarf and let the cold air caress her throat.
“Yes, mother, thank you.” Dale sighed as if frustrated with Glenda’s interference.
“Just saying.” Glenda turned to Hank. “Let’s find somewhere to have a warm drink and leave these two alone for a moment so they can look at the jewellery in peace.”
Lucie turned just in time to see Glenda winking at her husband.
“Yes, darling.” Hank shuffled after his wife, laden with bags: Glenda was on a mission to get as much of her Christmas shopping done as possible.
“Have you seen anything you like, Luce?” Dale asked.
“It’s all very pretty.”
“Well, you know… you are my girlfriend now, so I am allowed to buy you things.”
Lucie met his gaze and although he was smiling playfully, there was something serious in his eyes. It made her heartbeat quicken.
“Oh, Dale, I don’t know. I still feel a bit bad about all this. Your mum is so happy that we’re together.”
“Does it make you wonder what it would be like if we really were?” he asked, suddenly finding something on his shoe intensely interesting.
How to answer that?
Lucie nudged him. “How d’you fancy a hot chocolate?”
He looked up. “Or a mulled wine?”
“Dale Treharne! Isn’t it a bit early for that?”
“Dad’s driving.”
“Oh okay, why not. It does smell delicious.”
“You find Mum and Dad and I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Why? What’re you going to do?”
“I’ve seen something I want to pick up.” He gestured at the stall.
“What, for you?” she teased.
“No… I, uh… I think Mum might like it.”
“Have you? Which one? I didn’t know Glenda liked silver, she always wears that gold chain your Dad bought her. And her rings are all gold too.”
“Lucie…” He widened his eyes. “Take a hint.”
“Oh. Okay. Don’t be long.”
Lucie turned and headed in the direction she’d seen Hank and Glenda go, the thought of a mulled wine too tempting to resist. But she couldn’t help wondering what it was that had caught Dale’s eye, and if it was, as she suspected, actually for her.
* * *
Dale watched as the woman at the jewellery stall wrapped the silver pendant in purple tissue paper. As soon as he’d seen the tiny book with the opal heart on its cover, he’d known that it would be perfect for Lucie. He’d been contemplating how to purchase it discreetly when his mother had made the comment about getting Lucie something from the stall. Typical Mum, making everything seem so black and white, when in reality, things were far more complicated.
He bought Lucie gifts every year, and always chose them carefully, but he’d never ventured as far as jewellery. It wasn’t the type of thing friends bought for each other; it was too intimate. But this pendant was different. For starters, it was a book, which was appropriate. In addition, it was silver, and he’d only ever seen Lucie wear silver jewellery, so in that respect, it was perfect. Finally, it just felt like the right time to get her something this pretty, this personal and special.
“Here you go.” The stallholder handed him the small parcel. “I’ve wrapped it in plenty of tissue so it will protect the opal. It’s such a pretty piece, isn’t it?”
Dale nodded.
“I think your girlfriend will love it. The opal will match her pretty eyes.”
“Thank you. She does have pretty eyes.” He glanced behind the woman. “Can I have two of those, too?”
“Yes, of course.”
He tucked the small parcel into his jacket pocket, then went in search of Lucie and his parents.
* * *
Lucie waved at Dale as he walked towards them. He manoeuvered his way through the metal chairs and tables then sat next to her.
“So, what did you buy?” Glenda asked, leaning forwards eagerly.
“These.” Dale held up two red Santa hats with big white pompoms on the ends. He removed his beanie then pulled one of the Santa hats on. “The other one is for you, Lucie.”
She scrunched up her nose. “You want me to wear that?”
“This is a Christmas market and we are getting into the festive spirit. So yes, I would like you to wear the Santa hat.”
Lucie nodded. “Okay then.” She replaced her beret with the red hat, then smoothed her hair down around her cheeks.
“Suits you.” Dale winked at her.
“Photo opportunity!” Glenda sang as she pulled her mobile from her bag. “Get closer, you two.”
Dale shuffled his chair closer to Lucie’s and wrapped his arm around her, then rested his cheek against hers. As they smiled for photographs, Lucie was acutely aware of how good he smelled and how smooth his clean-shaven cheek felt next to her skin. If she turned just a fraction, she could kiss him.
“Lucie?” It was Glenda. “You’ve gone bright red, dear. Whatever’s wrong?”
“N… nothing. Just rather… warm, all of a sudden.”
She wriggled out from under Dale’s arm and fanned her cheeks with her hands.
“Now that my darling wife has finished taking the photos, shall we get some drinks and a bite to eat?” Hank asked. “I’m famished.”
“Lucie and I would like a mulled wine each,” Dale said. “And I think I’ll have a savoury crepe.”
“That sounds good.” Lucie ran a finger down the menu. “There’s one with brie, bacon and cranberry sauce.”
“Perfect.”
Hank and Dale went to the counter to order. Glenda passed Lucie her mobile. “Check out the photos. You two make a lovely couple.”
Lucie flicked through the pictures. She had to agree with Glenda; she did look good with Dale at her side.
“I wonder what he bought you.” Glenda wiggled her eyebrows. “Something sparkly, I hope.”
Lucie chewed her cheek. She didn’t want to encourage Glenda, but then it seemed that she didn’t need much help seeing more in Lucie and Dale’s relationship than there was in reality. Glenda had her heart set on Lucie and Dale being together. Forever.
“Food will be about ten minutes as they’re quite busy, but here’s a mulled wine to be going on with.” Dale had returned with a large ceramic mug decorated with a very jolly snowman. She picked it up and cradled it between her palms. She breathed in the aromas of clove, nutmeg and ginger. Slices of orange and lemon floated in the wine, and she fought the temptation to lift them out and pop them in her mouth.
Across the car park, a band started playing and the market filled with music and cheer. “This is wonderful, isn’t it? I do love it when the Salvation Army band plays carols.” Glenda leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles. She had a mug of mulled wine too, and Hank had coffee.
“While we wait for food, shall we play a game?” Dale asked.
“A game?” Lucie blew on her wine then took a tentative sip. Her mouth was filled with fruits and spices, the blackberry and cherry of the wine delicately enhanced with citrus and cinnamon.
“Yes. We all share one memory about Christmas. Good or bad.” He glanced at Lucie. “But good would be better, obviously.”
“Go on then.”
“Mum? Do you want to go first?”
Glenda ran her tongue over her teeth. “Yes. Okay. What about the grommets story?”
“Oh, no. Not that one, Mum!”
“Dale, it was one of the most stressful times of my life.”
“What’s this?” Lucie asked.
“Hasn’t she told you this one before, Luce?”
Lucie shook her head.
“It is quite a funny tale,” Hank said.
“It wasn’t funny at the time.” Glenda scowled at her husband. “Well, Lucie. It was the Christmas when Dale was five. He was having terrible trouble with glue ear and the doctors recommended having grommets inserted to help drain the fluid away from the middle ear.”
“Poor Dale.”
“Yes. He had a bit of a rough time of it that winter. We took him to the hospital for the operation and they placed him on a ward with three other children who were all in for the same thing. I was allowed to wait with him in the anaesthetic room until he went through to theatre.” Glenda took a sip of her wine. “The anaesthetist gave him the injection, then told him to relax and go to sleep.”
“But I didn’t.”
Lucie looked at Dale. “It didn’t work?”
“I lay there and closed my eyes, but nothing happened.”
“So what did they do?”
“They gave him another dose. Apparently some people have a higher tolerance than others.”
“But the second dose didn’t work either,” Dale added. “I drifted off for a bit but next thing I knew, I woke up as they were wheeling me through the doors into theatre.”
“Oh my goodness! Were you scared?” Lucie asked.
“Not really.”
“He just looked around him and asked, ‘What’s going on? Where am I?’” Glenda said.
“Then Mum started to cry and told them it wasn’t working.”
“So didn’t you have the operation?”
“Yep. They realized that they needed to do something else, so next thing I knew, they had the anaesthetic gas on me.”
“This was just weeks before Christmas, Lucie. I was a wreck that year.”
“And I proved that I’m superhuman!” Dale laughed.
“But what if you ever have to have another operation?” Lucie was overwhelmed with concern. “It could be dangerous, right?”
“Well, there was that time when he was fourteen and he had to have teeth extracted so they could fit his braces,” Hank said. “I went with him that time – Glenda couldn’t face it.”
“Didn’t it work then?”
“Nope. Had to have extra then, too. More injections in my gums and the roof of my mouth.”
“Dale, that’s awful.”
“What can you do? I just have a high tolerance to anaesthetic.”
“What’s your story, Hank?” Lucie asked.
“That one, I think. Same as Glenda.” Hank finished his coffee. “I can’t top that one.”
A Very Merry Manhattan Christmas Page 9
