Mince Pies and Mistletoe at the Christmas Market

by Heidi Swain

  ‘Oh that’s all gone,’ said Dad, sounding almost blasé about the situation, ‘I’m retiring on a shoestring before they have a chance to sack me, but at least my conscience is clear.’

  ‘But you love your job!’ I burst out. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I did love my job,’ he said with emphasis, ‘but I blew it. There’s no way back for me there now. We’ll probably have to sell the house and downsize a bit, but we won’t be going far.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that, Mum?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, but she didn’t sound as upset as I would have expected. ‘I haven’t had long to think about it but I suppose it does seem a bit silly to have all this space with just the two of us rattling around in it. Perhaps we could buy somewhere smaller out of town.’

  ‘You could have those chickens you’ve always wanted,’ Dad smiled, leaning across the bed to give her a kiss.

  ‘Jeez,’ I whistled, under my breath, ‘and there was me thinking I was coming home for a quiet Christmas.’

  ‘So far it’s been anything but, hasn’t it, love?’

  ‘You can say that again,’ I nodded.

  No matter how hard I tried to squash them down I couldn’t stop my feelings for Steve, and what our relationship might have been, forcing their way up to the surface again. If only Dad had had a timely prod from his conscience all those years ago then things might have been very different for us. I still couldn’t forgive him for interfering and I knew that if Steve and I had been left to steer our own course then things would have been very different indeed.

  But that wasn’t the only thing on my mind. I watched Dad as he re-read the newspaper headline and shook his head at the unflattering photograph. Although pleased that he had said that I was the one responsible for making him see sense, I still couldn’t really believe that any of what I had heard or read was true. I couldn’t imagine my dad ever being the kind of man to take bribes, no matter how tempting. He had worked too hard to simply sacrifice his career or become embroiled in some unknown developer’s dodgy dealings. No, none of it rang true to me. None of it had anything to do with my dad.

  He looked up from the paper and caught me staring, trying to puzzle the situation out. I could see straightaway from the look he gave me that it didn’t add up. I opened my mouth to ask him to explain it all again but a sudden extra hard thud on the door and assault on the doorbell brought us all out of our reverie and snatched the moment from my grasp.

  ‘Come on!’ bawled an all too familiar voice through the letterbox. ‘I know you’re in there, you silly old bugger, and I’m not leaving until you let me in.’

  There was a moment’s silence before Chris shouted again.

  ‘I know that didn’t make any bloody sense, but you know what I meant. Now, open this damn door.’

  I still have no idea what Chris said to the journalists hanging around the front door and hiding in the shrubbery, but by the time Dad gave me the go-ahead to let him in the back door, they had all scarpered, no doubt taking with them an unsavoury soundbite or two courtesy of Mr Dempster.

  ‘What the hell’s going on, Robert?’ Chris demanded the second the door was closed behind him, ‘I’ve only just seen the paper. Is it all true?’

  Mum and I stood there open-mouthed and numb with shock, firstly that Dad had even allowed Chris to cross the threshold and secondly that Chris had just called Dad ‘Robert’ rather than ‘Robbie’.

  ‘You better sit down,’ said Dad, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. ‘Put the kettle on, would you, Ruby, please?’

  ‘And don’t worry about the milk,’ said Chris producing a bottle of whisky from the inside of his jacket and thumping it down, ‘I’ve brought my own.’

  Once the pot had been filled and mugs distributed we sat together around the table and Mum and I listened again as Dad relayed the whole sorry story to Chris. Throughout Dad’s explanation our visitor sat silent and grave, the occasional nod or shake of his head the only indication that he was taking it all in.

  When Dad eventually finished, Chris unscrewed the bottle and gave Dad and himself a generous quota of ‘milk’ before reaching for the teapot.

  ‘You daft old bugger,’ he said under his breath, ‘whatever were you thinking?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Dad, running his hands through his hair.

  I took a long sideways glance at him and couldn’t help thinking that even though I had just listened to the seedy little story again I still didn’t believe a word of it.

  ‘Well, I don’t envy you,’ said Chris, raising his mug to Dad and knocking back his brew in one gigantic slurp. ‘Not this time around, anyway. Pour us another, would you, Ruby?’

  ‘I’ll refill the kettle,’ said Mum jumping up as Dad began to chuckle and likewise knock back his drink.

  ‘Am I missing something?’ I couldn’t help asking because personally I couldn’t see a funny side to the situation, no matter how hard I looked for it.

  ‘You are,’ said Chris, slapping Dad on the back and making him wheeze, ‘but don’t worry about it.’

  I got up to help Mum with the fresh tea.

  ‘I’ve never really understood why those two don’t get on,’ I muttered to Mum, ‘but this is a total bolt out of the blue.’

  ‘We’ve never got on,’ said Chris, demonstrating there was nothing in the world wrong with his hearing, ‘because your dad was always the blue-eyed boy around here and I was as jealous as hell.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I frowned, rejoining them at the table.

  ‘Oh it doesn’t matter,’ said Dad, ‘it’s all in the past now.’

  ‘No, come on,’ I said, hoping that whatever the cause of Chris’s jealousy was it wasn’t going to be as awkward to listen to as Dad’s former revelations, ‘I really want to know.’

  ‘Well,’ said Chris, a slight smirk playing around his lips, ‘when your dad was a young lad, he was, now let me see . . . How can I put it?’

  Dad shrugged and sat back in his chair.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ Chris nodded. ‘He was a spoilt little sod who never wanted for anything.’

  ‘And he,’ said Dad, jerking his thumb at his old rival, ‘was from a hard-working family who didn’t have to resort to using material crap to show how much they loved their kids.’

  ‘Not that I realised that at the time,’ shrugged Chris, slopping more whisky into their mugs, ‘all I knew was that your dad had everything I ever wanted and I had no means of getting it.’

  ‘Do you remember the bike?’ sniggered Dad as he slapped Chris’s arm.

  ‘Do I remember it?’ shouted Chris. ‘My backside still bears the belt marks my dad gave me when he found out what I’d done!’

  ‘What bike?’ I urged, totally drawn into the explanation that evidently accounted for so much. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘One Christmas,’ Chris continued, shaking his head, ‘your dad had the bike everyone wanted, and I mean everyone.’

  ‘It was lovely,’ agreed Dad.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s saying that,’ said Chris to Mum, ‘you were only interested in the damn thing for a few days and then you left it lying on the pavement and went on to play with something else you’d no doubt just mentioned in passing you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘That still didn’t give you any right to liberate it!’ Dad retaliated, good-naturedly.

  ‘What did you do?’ I laughed.

  ‘Took it for a spin,’ said Chris, ‘thought I’d give it the ride it deserved.’

  ‘But not the respect,’ chuckled Dad. ‘Tell her what happened.’

  ‘I was so busy looking down at the shiny new frame and glittering wheel spokes that I didn’t notice the row of parked cars in front of me and rear-ended the damn thing, front wheel first!’

  ‘When I went back outside to pick it up,’ said Dad, picking up where Chris had stopped, ‘the whole thing was buckled, bent and twisted.’

  ‘I’d scarpered,’ Chris cut in.


  ‘But what he didn’t know,’ said Dad, ‘was that I’d seen him ride away on it and bring it back. As soon as your grandfather came home from work, Ruby, I told him what had happened and he went and paid a call to Chris’s dad.’

  ‘Who then gave me a leathering I’ll never forget,’ said Chris shaking his head, ‘but I know I deserved it.’

  ‘So let me get this straight,’ I said, looking from one to the other. ‘You two have always hated each other because you,’ and here I pointed at Chris, ‘trashed a bike, that you,’ now pointing at Dad, ‘never even wanted.’

  The two men looked at each other and then at me.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Dad, looking edgy.

  ‘There were other things,’ said Chris, fiddling with the whisky bottle again.

  ‘You might as well tell her,’ said Mum, who was apparently privy to at least part of their background, ‘as we’re soul-baring, she might as well hear the whole thing.’

  ‘There’s more?’ I laughed.

  Neither man looked keen to continue, but I wasn’t going to budge until I knew it all.

  ‘As we got older,’ Dad said, sounding far less jovial, ‘we envied each other on a whole new scale.’

  ‘We did that,’ agreed Chris.

  ‘Oh come on,’ I encouraged, ‘what was next on the agenda? Fighting over girls?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dad and Chris together.

  ‘Exactly that,’ nodded Dad.

  ‘Marie and her family moved to Wynbridge,’ said Chris with a sheepish grin, ‘and before she knew it she had the two most dedicated suitors this town has ever seen.’

  ‘And God knows why,’ said Dad, giving Chris a punch on the arm, ‘but she chose this bloody buffoon and our rivalry turned into something more serious.’

  ‘Finally I had something that he wanted,’ said Chris returning the punch, ‘and for a while I was over the moon, I still am, of course, because I love Marie to bits but eventually my maturity caught up with my years and I realised how your dad really felt. I hated seeing him so—’

  ‘Bitter,’ Dad smiled sadly. ‘I was bitter and jealous. I didn’t get back in the dating game for a very long time after you and Marie tied the knot.’

  Suddenly the penny dropped and I began to understand the age difference between Mum and Dad. I dare say by the time he decided he wanted that someone special in his life, everyone local his own age was married off.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Dad said, eyeing me astutely.

  ‘Do you?’ I blushed.

  ‘I do,’ he nodded, pulling Mum on to his lap in a show of affection that I hadn’t seen in quite some time, ‘but you’re wrong. One day I’ll tell you the love story of us, but I think I’ve had enough of coming clean for today!’

  Intrigued as I was to hear more, I knew what he meant. I was exhausted and the day hadn’t even got going.

  ‘I’d better be off,’ said Chris, leaving the half-empty bottle on the table. ‘I dare say you’re going to have a busy couple of days ahead of you and you’ll probably want to keep your head down.’

  My insides groaned at the thought of having to face the rest of the traders. Perhaps I could call in sick or run away to India a little earlier than planned.

  ‘But I want you to promise me that you’ll come to the carol service with Marie and me on Christmas Eve,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said Mum, jumping off Dad’s lap.

  ‘Promise,’ said Dad, standing up and shaking Chris’s hand. ‘We’ll be there.’

  Chapter 28

  As much as I longed to, I didn’t call in sick or run away that day. There were only three days of trading left before Christmas and fingers crossed, they were going to be busier than any I had experienced so far. Had I stayed hiding out in my room at home not only would I have been letting Jemma and Lizzie down, but I would have been selling myself short as well as missing out on the extra profit which I hoped would bump up the savings and equip me with the financial means to leave town as soon as possible.

  There were, of course, other deeper seated reasons for wanting to get out of the house and I hoped a few hours’ distraction in the ever-present biting Wynbridge breeze might help me to think through and make sense of those as well.

  As heart-warming and entertaining as it was listening to Dad and Chris chronicle their early years, and the subsequent love triangle that emerged when Marie arrived on the scene, I couldn’t stop myself wondering if Dad’s interference with my relationship with Steve had been more to do with keeping our two families apart as opposed to worrying about me throwing away the golden, and hard fought for, opportunity that my place at university offered.

  Romeo and Juliet we might not have been, but the fact that Steve and I were no longer together and weren’t ever likely to be, was indeed the greatest tragedy of my young life if no one else’s, and the fact that Dad and Chris’s tempestuous relationship had turned such a positive corner only served to make the sad situation even more insufferable.

  I kept my head down to begin with that morning as, I couldn’t help noticing, did everyone else. I set the stall up in silence, my back turned away from the now familiar early morning hustle and bustle as I tried not to think about what was being said and how many columns of newsprint were being devoured. Everyone loved a good gossip and a local scandal, but I can’t deny it felt incredibly uncomfortable being part of the family on the receiving end.

  I had just finished setting up when I heard a heavy footfall behind me and braced myself for what I imagined would be an inevitable ear bashing and barrage of questions from my fellow traders.

  ‘I hope that dad of yours keeps his promise.’ It was Chris. ‘I’m rather looking forward to Christmas this year and that’s the first time in a very long time that I’ve been able to say that, I can tell you. It would be really lovely to go to the carol service with someone I’ve known for so long!’

  I felt a lump, easily the size of a golf ball lodge itself at the back of my throat. He hadn’t had to come over and say anything to me at all and certainly not so loudly, but I was extremely grateful that he had. As self-assigned leader of the ‘trader tribe’ I knew lots of the others would be watching, listening and waiting to follow Chris’s example, and I could have hugged him for providing me with such a potentially easy ride.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll be there,’ I eventually managed to croak, ‘and I’m sure he’ll make Mum and I tag along as well. If only to show some family solidarity and offer a bit of moral support.’

  ‘You would have made a damn fine daughter-in-law, Ruby,’ he said, reaching for my hand, pulling me into a quick, but rib-cracking hug. ‘And I would have been proud to welcome you into our family.’

  I nodded, but this time the words refused to come and not only because I couldn’t breathe.

  ‘I have to tell you, love, that I did know that your dad had a hand in parting you and my Steve,’ he went on, ‘and I knew it wasn’t his place to, but with everything else . . .’

  ‘Doesn’t matter now,’ I said, trying to sound more resigned to the situation than I really felt and to stop my bottom lip from trembling, ‘it’s done. Customers,’ I added, with a nod towards his stall, ‘you’d better go.’

  I watched him walk away, willing myself not to cry or think about Dad’s meddling or how much it hurt to feel that there really was no conceivable way back.

  ‘I understand congratulations are in order!’

  ‘Are they?’ I frowned, blinking away my tears. ‘Are you sure about that, Gwen?’

  ‘Why, of course,’ she beamed, rushing over and almost losing her footing in the snow in the process. ‘As I understand it, your father has secured the future of our little market!’

  I wasn’t quite sure how she had talked herself around to putting such a positive spin on the situation or whether what she was suggesting was even right, but I was grateful for her optimistic attitude nonetheless.

  ‘Has he?’ I asked.

  �
��Why yes!’ she insisted. ‘Haven’t you seen the paper, my dear?’

  ‘Of course,’ I told her, feeling even more baffled by her positivity now I knew she had seen the sordid story in black and white for herself.

  ‘And aren’t you proud?’ she asked, wide-eyed and evidently willing me to say yes.

  ‘Yes, Ruby,’ joined in Jude, ‘you must be proud.’

  ‘I’m not sure I would say I’m exactly proud,’ I began.

  ‘Having the guts to expose what some of his fellow councillors were sneakily planning even though he knew it would cost him his job,’ sniffed Gwen. ‘I admire him. We all do! You should be proud.’

  I was in no rush to remind them that for a while at least, Dad was involved in the sneaky planning as well.

  ‘He wasn’t the only one caught up in it, you know,’ said Bob, ambling over to make his own contribution to the conversation. ‘From what I can make out, there was definitely someone else who was in far deeper than your dad, Ruby, possibly more than one.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Bob determinedly, ‘the other person or people, if the rumours are true, and let’s face it, in this sort of situation they nearly always are, were in it up to their necks and from what I’ve heard had been taking bribes for years.’

  ‘But your dad didn’t actually take any money, did he?’ said Shirley with a grin. ‘He came to his senses before he was at the point of no return.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, because they were obviously expecting me to say something, ‘he did.’ Personally I was still struggling to come to terms with the thought of Dad even considering being involved in anything so dodgy, let alone going through with it. ‘But I had no idea that anyone else was implicated,’ I added, my brain ticking over faster than ever.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Bob importantly as he stuck his thumbs through his braces, ‘it’ll all be on the news tomorrow, you mark my words. This so-called investor is part of the group who owns that damn Retail Park and from what I can make out, they planned to take the town apart piece by piece until the only option folk had was to use their poxy out of town superstore!’