Christmas for One: No Greater Love

by Amanda Prowse

  Guy sighed. ‘Oh, Meg…’ He clicked his tongue against his teeth and twisted his mouth. ‘Does she still have your card and pin number?’

  ‘Yep.’ Meg nodded. ‘I’ll cancel it in a minute.’ She didn’t confess to purposefully having delayed calling the bank, but she knew what Guy was thinking. Illogical though it was, she didn’t want her mum to get into trouble, didn’t want Lorna to think badly of her for having involved the police. She also wanted her mum to have everything she needed for whatever twists and turns her sorry life took next. And, even more illogically, she still hoped beyond hope that it had all been a bit of a mix-up and that Lorna would bluster through the door at any second, with a bag full of Christmas decorations and a reasonable explanation about her absence. Even she had to admit that, with every minute that passed, that was becoming ever more unlikely.

  ‘You need to do that, Meg. You don’t know what she might do and it will only make things worse in the long run.’ She knew he was right. ‘I have to go, Meg. Call me whenever you want, day or night. I mean it.’

  Standing, Meg ran her palm over the backs of her thighs and sniffed as she wiped away her tears. As she walked towards the staircase, she held the mouthpiece close to her lips, trying to get closer to her friend. ‘Guy?’

  ‘Oui?’

  ‘She took the silver-framed photo of Lucas from the hallway. I keep hoping that it’s because she wanted a photo of him to keep. Do you think that might be why she took it, so she can look at him, remember him?’

  She heard his sigh.

  ‘I think so, yes,’ he lied.

  18

  It was Christmas Day. Meg was woken from a dream about Edd by the buzzing of her phone, heralding the arrival of a text message. With bleary eyes and the creases of the pillow still visible on her cheek, she lifted her head, raised one arm from the duvet and scrolled through the screen until the message opened. The breath caught in her throat as she read the lines: I can’t stop thinking about you. Miss you beyond words. Happy Christmas.

  Her heart leapt at the words she had wanted to read more than anything. Edd’s texts and attempted calls had stopped after a couple of days of her not replying. It saddened her how easily and quickly he had given up. More proof of the insincerity of his words and actions, if any were needed. This single text, however, made her heart sing. It was Christmas and he was thinking of her! It wouldn’t make a difference in the long run – a liar was a liar – but his words were a salve to her broken heart on this special day.

  Sitting up, she rubbed her temples and pushed her hair behind her ears. As her eyes focused, her heart sank. The words were exactly as she had read them, but the text wasn’t from Edd; it had been sent by Piers. Meg sank back into the pillows and fought the wave of melancholy that washed over her. It couldn’t have been further from the Christmas morning she had envisaged.

  Rising from the bed twenty minutes later, she fetched a glass of water and slumped onto the sofa. With neither the need nor the inclination to shower and dress, Meg simply stared out of the window. The day was grey and overcast. She watched the lights of passing vehicles flicker and rebound around the walls, like eyes in the gloom searching for prey. Though it was a tad chilly, she lacked the strength to jump up and turn up the heating or fetch a blanket, rather liking the way her shivers matched her mood.

  Her mind was preoccupied not with Lorna and her betrayal, but with memories of Edd and the way he had made her feel. Standing on the ice at the Rockefeller Center with his arms around her waist as the snow settled on their noses and eyelashes, he had looked at her as though there was only her, as if he loved her just as she was. Meg blinked, dry-eyed as she wrapped her arms around her trunk. That was how she wanted to be looked at, how she wanted to be loved. Not as Bill had loved her, second best; or how Lorna loved her, when it suited her; or even Piers, who loved only the idea of her. But a real deep love with someone who knew how to make her feel safe like no one else ever could. That was what she wanted more than anything in the world. But like her list of toys copied from a ragged-cornered out-of-date catalogue, she knew the chances of it being hers were extremely unlikely, if not impossible.

  It was midday in London when the Skype call came in, rousing her from the stupor in which she had spent the morning.

  Lucas’s head bobbed up and down in front of the camera; his sun-kissed face beamed. ‘Happy Christmas! It’s Christmas here today, Mum, but I know it’s not Christmas in England until I get back.’

  That’s right, Lucas. It could never be Christmas without you. ‘Happy Christmas, my beautiful boy. I miss you so much!’

  ‘I got a diving Action Man.’ He held up a plastic figure that was dressed in a wetsuit and orange plastic flippers and had tiny scuba tanks on its back and a rather nasty-looking spear gun clutched in its right hand. ‘I’m going to take him in the swimming pool and I got a iTunes voucher and I can get games for my iPad, Christopher is going to help me do it. And I got sweets and new pyjamas with pirates on!’

  ‘Wow! You are such a lucky boy. I hope you said lots of thank-yous.’

  ‘I did! And we are going to go to the beach and we are going out for our lunch and I want fish fingers and Pru said I can have whatever I want because it’s Barbarbados Christmas and so I’m going to have two puddings which are both chocolate cake.’

  Without warning and as per his usual modus operandi, he leapt off the stool he had been perched on. Meg found herself staring at the white tiled wall of the kitchen.

  ‘Hello, anybody there?’ she called at the screen.

  It was a good thirty seconds before she got a response. ‘There you are!’

  Milly came into view. ‘I thought you were chatting to the boy!’

  ‘I was, but he’s hopped off somewhere.’ Meg smiled and raised her hands.

  ‘Happy Barbarbados Christmas, my love.’ Milly’s tone was warm.

  ‘And to you! Are you all still having a lovely time?’

  ‘Oh, the best! We’ve been up since the crack of dawn, quite literally! We’re having a ball, but we do miss you.’ She was sincere.

  ‘I miss you too.’ Meg couldn’t disguise the catch in her throat.

  ‘Everything all right, Meg?’ Milly frowned and squinted to better see the screen.

  Meg tucked her lips over her teeth and nodded, not trusting what might slip from her mouth and give her away.

  ‘Just missing Lucas?’ Milly hazarded.

  Meg nodded again.

  ‘Oh well, here he is, back again!’ Milly shunted sideways and lifted Lucas on to the stool.

  ‘Look, Mum!’ He beamed as he thrust a rather limp-looking starfish towards the camera. ‘He’s called Steve and he’s been my pet for two days! Say hello to my mum, Steve!’

  Milly grimaced over his shoulder. ‘Let’s put Steve back in his bucket, mate. Remember what we talked about, keeping him nice and wet?’

  Lucas once again clambered out of view.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Mummy?’ Milly enquired.

  ‘Bye, Mum! I love you!’

  Meg smiled at the voice that drifted back towards the microphone. ‘I love you too, so much.’

  Milly took up the space on the stool. ‘Poor Steve! We found him on the beach, already half dead. Lucas revived him somewhat but I think his TLC is making Steve wish he’d ended his days there and then. He was part of a moon-landing re-enactment yesterday involving a colander and a sand dune. I think Steve is miserable. He certainly looks it.’ She shook her head. Meg laughed.

  ‘We’ll see you real soon, Meg. Can’t wait to get back to you.’

  Meg nodded. For her, the time couldn’t pass fast enough.

  ‘Give everyone my love.’ Milly winked.

  Meg knew she was referring to Edd and smiled weakly in response. ‘Will do.’

  As the computer screen went blank, Meg was aware once again of the silence in the flat. It looked uncharacteristically depressing without the lamps on to ward off the dull winter greyness. The smell o
f cigarette smoke, whether real or imaginary, filled her nostrils. She shuddered at the foul lingering reminder of Lorna’s presence. Cracking open the window, she shivered once more as the icy blast of this Christmas Day whipped around the room. A quick glance at the clock reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since she had picked at cheese and biscuits the previous evening. As she opened the fridge and then the food cupboards, she realised that there was nothing in either that might constitute a meal, let alone a Christmas lunch.

  Stepping into her fur-lined Ugg boots and pulling her padded walking coat over her pyjamas, Meg made her way to the Tesco Express store further down the street, the only one open on this day and at this time. She collected the wire shopping basket from a stack by the door and traipsed up and down the neon-lit aisles as ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’ reverberated from the speakers. The contents of her basket sat limply against the wire: two oranges, a tin of tomato soup and a packet of oatcakes, which she would devour with the remaining Brie and some sweet onion chutney. She pictured Brenda, Edd’s mother, and the seven relatives she had invited for Christmas. She imagined bowls of roasted spuds, buttery parsnips, chestnut stuffing and moist, white turkey, all slathered in thick pale gravy and with a booze-soaked, flaming Christmas pud to follow. Even the idea made her mouth water.

  ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any turkey?’ Meg shouted to the perky man who sported a tinsel bow tie and a Santa hat. He looked like he was having the best day.

  ‘Ah, in the freezer, I think,’ he shouted back. ‘Or there are fresh turkey portions in the fridge.’ He pointed. ‘Leaving it a bit late, aren’t you?’ He smiled, lifting his eyes from the tray of sandwiches that he was stickering as ‘Reduced’ and placing back in the chiller cabinet.

  Meg shrugged, not willing to explain how or why she had ended up in this situation on Christmas Day.

  ‘Help!’ a woman shouted in a jovial tone as she trotted in black patent heels into the store, her beautifully coiffed chestnut locks cascading over her shoulders. She smelt of expensive scent but was rather incongruously wearing an apron with the words ‘Santa’s Little Helper!’ emblazoned across the front. Like Meg, she had clearly given little thought to the fact that she might encounter other last-minute shoppers.

  ‘Okay there, Mrs Miller?’ The store assistant seemed very pleased to see her.

  ‘Yes! Merry Christmas! Having a bit of a crisis – I’ve forgotten the cranberry sauce. Please tell me you have some?’ She wrung her hands as though this were the biggest disaster that could possibly befall her.

  The man abandoned his task and loped off up one of the aisles, returning with not one but two jars of Tesco Finest cranberry sauce.

  ‘You are an absolute darling and a total life-saver!’ the woman gushed as she handed over a bank note and the man popped the jars into a bag. He was beaming, clearly enjoying being a total life-saver and an absolute darling.

  Meg looked at the woman. Her face was flushed, probably at the sheer joy of Christmas Day, perhaps helped by a generous slosh of champers in her celebratory morning Buck’s Fizz. She wished her own woes could be wiped away by the purchase of two jars of condiment.

  She scanned the freezer cabinets, letting her eyes rove over blocks of mint-choc Viennetta ice cream, ham and pineapple pizzas and packets of frozen peas until there it was staring back at her: a frozen Christmas dinner for one. She pulled back the sliding door of the freezer, plunged her hand into the chill and lifted out the plastic package. Clearing a window through the dusting of snow-like grains on the lid, Meg could make out a ball of brown stuffing the size of a ping-pong ball, four strips of frozen carrot and three thin slices of meat – ‘prime turkey breast!’, according to the large green sticker on the front. She doubted there was anything ‘prime’ about any of it. Prime was what Brenda would be serving to her seven relatives, and what Milly, Pru and Chris would enjoy a few hours from now at their ocean-view restaurant; it might even be what Edd and Flavia would be picking at on trays in front of the television. At least theirs would be organic.

  She stared at the square packet in her hands. This was it. This forlorn-looking processed meal represented her shitty Christmas and her shitty luck. Why had she fallen for Edward Kelly, with this fabulous body and floppy fringe? Why had she been so stupid? And then she’d gone and let herself be duped by her mum – again. Imagine, her mum finding her just in time for Christmas! ‘What a bloody mess.’ Meg closed her eyes and thought of Lucas, who was so very far away. It was Christmas Day and she missed him. She missed him so very much.

  When she opened her eyes there was a man in the aisle and he was staring at her with a fixed smile. She had never seen him before, but he grinned at her as though they were old friends. ‘Forgive me for asking…’ He paused, licked his lips and eyed the ‘Dinner for One’ box in her hand. ‘But I bet you’re single!’

  Meg smiled at the memory of that first abrasive encounter with Edd in the Greenwich Avenue Deli. How quickly they’d made amends. Edd had made her so happy, even if it was only for a short time. He had lifted the lid on her indifference and given her a peek at what it might be like to love and be loved. She had liked that. She had liked it a lot. What was it he had said? ‘I’m right, aren’t I? You aren’t married or even involved. It’s just a guess, but mainly I’ve come to that conclusion because you are really, really ugly.’

  The man in front of her coughed. ‘Am I right?’

  Meg felt her tears pool and shook her head; she didn’t have the energy to reply. She placed the sorry box of food back into its chilly home, leaving it as a treat for someone else to enjoy, and set the basket on the floor. Then she calmly walked out empty-handed, back to the flat where nothing awaited her except the odour of stale cigarette smoke and a cold breeze that blew in from the open balcony door.

  Kicking off her Uggs and shrugging her arms from the sleeves of her coat, Meg peeled back the duvet and wriggled down to the middle of the mattress. She wanted today to be over and decided to spend it sleeping, waking up only when it was all over. Rolling over, she buried her face in the pillow and closed her eyes. ‘Happy Christmas,’ she whispered into the cold, still silence.

  19

  ‘Wow, look who’s up early as a lark!’ Guy said as he walked past Meg. ‘All set?’ he added.

  She was vigorously polishing the brass fixtures on the front door. It was December the twenty-eighth and her baby boy was coming home.

  ‘Yep. They won’t recognise the place, it’s shining like a new pin! I’ve gone cleaning mad, Guy. I’ve done nothing but scrub and iron and hoover for the last few days. I’ve even washed and re-hung all the curtains. This is proof that I have absolutely no life!’ She laughed. ‘I’ve put up a little tree that I got from the market and covered it in lights. Hope Lucas loves it – I’m sure he will, there’s presents under it, which has to be his main concern, right?’

  ‘Right.’ Guy smiled, happy to see his friend full of the liveliness she had been lacking over the last few days. ‘Why don’t you pop down and pick up some cakes and brioche? Lucas will have missed Plum baking I’m sure and he might be hungry. You can have a nice lunch or afternoon tea, non?’ He wanted to make doubly sure that there were no hard feelings after the whole Lorna incident. His friendship with Meg was far stronger than any demand for packs of coffee beans made by a woman on the make.

  ‘Actually…’ Meg snapped the duster in the air and leant back to avoid the fall-out. ‘… I am planning on making a cake for everyone. I was thinking of an apple and walnut loaf or a really good banana bread, in homage to Barbarbados!’

  Guy placed his hand on his chest. ‘Oh, poor things. As if having to travel home from paradise, exhausted, isn’t enough of a challenge, you are going to inflict one of your cakes on them as well?’ He sighed.

  Meg twisted the duster into a fat orange rope and flicked it at Guy’s legs as he hopped out of the way, squealing. He grabbed the duster and held it fast. The two laughed as they tussled and skipped around on the pavement like a
couple of excited children.

  Meg stood on tiptoes on the half landing in the hallway, spraying the air with her new cinnamon and spice room scent. She wanted the smell of Christmas to greet her family the moment they walked in. The doorbell rang. Meg checked her face in the mirror before leaping down the stairs taking two at time, beaming at the prospect of holding Lucas’s little body against hers. God, she had missed him! She opened the door and took a step back. It was the last person she expected to see. Her expression was one of genuine surprise.

  ‘Hello, Meg, is this a bad time?’ Piers shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

  ‘Oh, Piers! It’s lovely to see you!’ And it was. She felt a genuine rush of affection for this man, in the way she might feel towards an old friend or neighbour in whom she had zero romantic interest. He may not have been the one for her, but his snobbish views and less than accepting attitude towards her childhood were far less hurtful than Edd’s lying and cheating. The temptation to fall into his arms and be hugged was strong, but she couldn’t risk leaving him with the wrong impression. Nonetheless, she felt warmed by the familiarity of him, his ancient Barbour with the elbows and front worn shiny from use, his green paisley scarf and favourite camel-coloured cashmere sweater. She knew that Piers had been wearing similar clothes since he was thirteen and would be wearing them still at eighty-three. She smiled at him.

  ‘You look tired.’ He reached out and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. He was, as ever, sweet and concerned about her wellbeing.

  Meg inclined her cheek towards his hand. ‘I am. I’ve been waitressing and cleaning for the last few days and it’s a darn sight harder than swanning around with my briefcase.’ She saw a flicker of disapproval cross his brow, knowing he preferred her in a managerial role. ‘As Guy says, I’ve gone a bit soft. Are you coming in? I’ll pop the kettle on, I was just going up.’