Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin

by Catherine Ferguson

  ‘Just for being here.’ I swallow hard and he nudges me gently.

  ‘Hey, any time.’

  We’re standing in the living room where the fire originated, and I suddenly catch sight of Mum’s sofa, where she always sat. It’s completely destroyed, along with the standard lamp beside it. It really brings it home to me what a lucky escape she had.

  ‘Mum should see this sofa for herself.’ My voice catches. ‘It might make her realise just how dangerous her hoarding has become.’

  Jed nods, looking around him, assessing the damage. ‘So I guess today you just want to rescue a few belongings you think your mum will need over at yours?’

  I nod. ‘I don’t want to start clearing lots of stuff out without her here. She has to want to do it.’ I glance up at him. ‘It’s so great to have your support, what with …’

  He nods slowly, guessing what I was going to say.

  What with Harrison not being here.

  We’re standing next to each other. I look up at him, and he’s staring down at me with an intensity that makes the breath catch in my throat. Our eyes lock, and a shiver runs through me. The small space between us seems super-charged, and when he reaches over and puts his arm casually round me – meaning to give me some support and comfort, I suppose – my entire body responds. Little electric impulses shoot right through me, to parts of my body I’d almost forgotten existed.

  Swept away on a tide of emotion, I curl into him, against his body, and he slips his other hand around my waist and holds me firmly against him. My gaze drops from the green depths of his eyes to his beautiful, firm mouth. And then we’re kissing, and he’s holding me against him even tighter, with a sort of urgent desperation, and I’m tangling my fingers in his hair then slipping my hands under his coat, running my fingers over the hard muscles of his chest as our bodies meld together and stars start exploding in my head.

  Then suddenly, he pulls away, leaving us both gasping for breath. He catches my arms as I lurch forward, wondering what’s happening.

  ‘Sorry.’ He steadies me, then pushes his hands through his hair, staring down at the ground. ‘That was my fault.’

  ‘No, it was mine,’ I murmur, the quiver in my voice echoing the shaking in my body. I think of Harrison and a feeling of guilt and despair surges through me.

  Jed was just being gentlemanly, claiming he made the first move.

  It was all down to me.

  *

  When we leave Mum’s house a while later, I’ve brought a bag of clothes, which I’m going to put through the washing machine to try and get rid of the acrid smell of smoke. Also in the boot is a box that’s slightly charred but holds papers and documents that are unscathed by the fire.

  As we drive the short distance back to mine, Jed’s phone rings on his internal Bluetooth system and the name that comes up is ‘Kat’. My heart squeezes painfully. Katerina. Jed’s ex. The girl he wanted to marry …

  As he talks, I stare out of the passenger window, doing my level best not to appear as though I’m listening in. When I glance at his profile, his expression is neutral. He’s not exactly beaming from ear to ear at hearing from her. But who knows what’s going on under the surface? They seem to be arranging to meet for a catch-up. Not that I was straining to hear above the radio that’s still playing. Not at all …

  I stare miserably at my hands, clasped together in my lap. Right now, I feel like a tiny boat on a boiling sea – tossed high in the air one moment, then hurled down into the depths the next. Sitting so close to Jed but feeling as if there’s a football-pitch-sized space between us is torture. I’m acutely aware of his gravelly voice, still talking to Kat, in my ear; strong hands on the steering wheel; long, muscled thighs splayed out, within tempting touching distance.

  I give myself a little shake. This is no good at all. I can’t possibly have feelings for Jed if I’m going to marry Harrison.

  The thought swirls around in my head for a moment. Then a disturbing realisation starts to dawn – before hitting me with the full force of a tree crashing through the roof of a house.

  Oh my God. I’ve got feelings for Jed!

  But I can’t have. What about Harrison? I’m going to marry Harrison!

  I sit there, bolt upright, staring ahead in utter horror. I’ve fallen hook, line and sinker for the man sitting next to me. A man who happens to be in complete ignorance of the torrent of emotions that’s tumbling through me right this minute—

  ‘Are you okay?’ When he speaks, it’s such a shock, I practically jump into next week.

  ‘Er, yes. Fine, thanks.’ Apart from the fact that my heart is attempting to break out of my chest. ‘It was really great of you to help me face the chaos over there.’

  ‘No problem.’ He smiles at me and I melt.

  He honestly has no idea how dangerous those smiles are. The scorching effect on my body is enough to heat the water in three hot tubs simultaneously.

  We agree that I’ll be back cooking dinner for them the following night, and he says he has to be somewhere right now so he needs to dash off. So we transfer the clothes and the box of papers to the boot of my car (I don’t fancy the smoky odour permeating the house) and I wave him off.

  There’s a heaviness in my chest. No prizes for guessing where he has to be in a hurry.

  Kat.

  Chapter 25

  Tuesday 27 December

  Afternoon tea

  Date and walnut cake

  Dinner menu

  Italian meat and cheese antipasti

  ***

  Classic spaghetti carbonara

  ***

  Raspberry semifreddo

  I wake, sweating, from a very odd dream.

  I’m sitting in a Jeep next to Indiana Jones and we’re bouncing along this forest track desperately searching for some sacred temple or other. I’m panicking a bit because we need to get there before the bad guys catch up with us. But I’m feeling fairly safe with the fearless Mr Jones at my side. I mean, who wouldn’t? The man is rock solid. A legend.

  But just as we enter the temple and are about to finally get our hands on the ancient and mysterious Pink Flamingo Diamond that is sure to save the human race from immediate extinction, I’m seized by an ape of a man with huge muscles, wearing nothing more than a loin cloth and a very sexy smile. Indiana Jones charges to my rescue and the two of them roll around on the ground, panting and getting filthy. Then Mimi Blenkinsop, in a black catsuit and mask, appears from nowhere, looking even more evil than usual, and threatens me with death by steak-and-kidney pie if I don’t get to my shift at the restaurant on time. Those pies are deceptively solid, which is why I wake up sweating.

  I lie there for a second, wondering who would have eventually triumphed. Indiana Jones? Or the ape man? I guess I’ll never know.

  Then as the dream fades, my memory of the day before – the devastating shock of realising I’ve fallen hard for Jed Turner – swoops into my mind, obliterating all other thoughts.

  Groaning, I faceplant the pillow in despair, bumping my nose and making my eyes water. I don’t often swear. But what the fuck am I supposed to do now? Harrison will be back in precisely four days’ time and he’ll be asking me to marry him again. He’ll want to know if, after careful consideration during our cooling-off period, my answer is still ‘yes’?

  What will I say to him?

  A moment later, I sit up straight and rub my nose.

  I’ll say ‘yes’, of course. Harrison and I were meant to be together. I’ve always had a sense of destiny about our meeting, and I’m not going to let what’s probably just a silly crush on Jed Turner spoil my future with Harrison.

  All the same, when someone raps on the bedroom door, panic flutters in my throat for a second. What if it’s Harrison himself, back home early and wanting an answer now?

  But of course it’s not. It’s Mum and she looks anxious.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, sitting up.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, love. I need to g
et all that stuff out of the bungalow. Now. I’ve hardly slept all night thinking about it. Do you think we could hire a skip and do it today?’

  I stare at her, speechless. There are bright spots in her cheeks and her eyes are darting about as if she can’t settle. She looks exhausted – as if she really has been up all night thinking about her house.

  I hold out my hand and pat the side of my bed. ‘Come and sit down and we can talk about it.’

  She perches on the very edge of the bed. ‘Probably the best thing to do would be to get a skip and a handyman, don’t you think? Then he can get rid of the lot in one go.’ She frowns. ‘Maybe three skips?’

  I smile. ‘Yes, I think it would take at least three. But Mum, while I think it’s great that you want to tackle your house, I’m not sure just getting rid of the lot without sorting through it is the right thing to do.’

  ‘Why not?’ She looks alarmed. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘I am.’ I smile encouragingly. ‘It’s great that you’re thinking about it. I just think we need to tackle the reason for your hoard – er, collecting, otherwise the house will just fill up again. Do you see?’

  She nods. ‘I’m not having counselling, though.’

  ‘Okay. Well, we could definitely start going through your things, room by room, and you could decide what you want to keep and what you want to donate to the charity shop? How about that?’

  Her chin wobbles and she tries to hide it with a smile. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, love.’

  We hug and she goes off to make some tea, and I lie there thinking about our conversation. That seems like progress to me. The shock of the fire seems to have flicked a switch in her brain, making her realise the dangerous way she’s been living. I can’t help thinking a professional trained in this sort of thing would do a much better job with her than me, though. Still, I’m more hopeful than I’ve ever been that Mum will get through this and come out the other side, more like the strong, independent person she used to be.

  I’m cooking at the cabin tonight so, after an early lunch, I pack a box with the food I need and take it out to the car. My heart is already doing energetic star jumps at the thought of seeing Jed again. Oh God, I’m going to have to avoid him if I can – which will be pretty hard since I’m supposed to be serving him dinner. I’ll get Erin to do it instead. I just need to get through the next few days, giving him as wide a berth as possible, and then I’ll never have to see Jed Turner ever again.

  The bag of clothes and the box of papers is still in the boot from yesterday, so I take them inside and push the smoky, smelly clothes into the washing machine and set it off. I’m about to put the lid-less box into a cupboard to tackle some other time when my eye catches my name on an envelope inside it. Addressed to me, it’s still sealed.

  Puzzled, I glance at the postmark.

  Napoli.

  Heart beating fast, I stare at the handwriting. The only person I know who lives in Italy …

  With trembling fingers, I quickly slit open the envelope and pull out the single sheet within.

  My dearest Poppy,

  How wonderful to meet you at last! I have never enjoyed a Christmas as much as the one I spent with you and your mother last week. What fun it was teaching you how to make the pasta and getting very cold swimming in the lake. And of course having the best snowball fight ever!

  It was also lovely to be with Donna again, although I am not sure she felt quite the same! I know she thinks only of you in everything she does. You have a very brilliant, kind and beautiful mother, and you will grow up to be just like her.

  I hope you are very well and happy, chica. We will meet again very soon, I am sure of this.

  Love from

  Alessandro

  In shock and wonder, I glance at the envelope. The letter was sent just a few days into the New Year. January 1999. He must have written to me as soon as he got back to Italy after the Christmas we spent together.

  But why did I never receive this letter? Why was it in this box?

  Confused, I go in search of Mum. She’s in the living room watching a game show.

  ‘Mum, why was this letter from Alessandro at your place, unopened?’ I hold it up, my heart drumming fast. ‘Do you remember it arriving?’

  She stares at it, as if shocked at the sound of Alessandro’s name.

  ‘Where was it?’ she asks at last.

  ‘In a box with other papers and official letters.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her eyes slide away, back to the TV screen.

  I stare at her, my brain ticking over rapidly. ‘Did you know it was there? Were you keeping it from me?’ I’m barely able to believe what I’m asking her.

  Mum swallows but continues staring at the TV screen, her lips pressed together.

  ‘He says he’ll see me soon, but he never came back. Is that because I didn’t reply? Because you never actually let me read my letter?’ My voice sounds hollow and strange to me, and the whole situation feels unreal, as if it’s happening to someone else. ‘All along I’ve thought that the reason he didn’t return was that he simply didn’t care about me. That’s what I’ve come to believe.’

  Mum turns. ‘No. It wasn’t like that at all,’ she says firmly. ‘I could tell that time he was here, he thought you were … enchanting.’

  ‘Enchanting?’ I snap. ‘That’s a strange word to use. I don’t think I’ve ever been described as enchanting!’

  ‘That was his word,’ she says softly. ‘About you.’

  I should feel happy. But instead, I feel cold all over. ‘Why didn’t you give me the letter, Mum?’

  Her mouth is trembling. She sits forward in the armchair and mumbles something, rubbing her temples distractedly.

  ‘Sorry?’

  She looks up at me, her eyes full of anguish. ‘I thought it was for the best. I honestly did.’

  ‘For the best?’ I shake my head in disbelief. ‘How could it be for the best?’

  She swallows hard. ‘I still had hopes back then that you, me and Martin could be a proper, loving family. And I had to make it work because I swore when you were born that I would give you a dad. That’s why I married Martin. But I knew that if Alessandro became part of your life, Martin would be jealous and he’d make life even more difficult for us.’ She shrugs. ‘I didn’t care about me. But I couldn’t bear him being cold with you. That used to break my heart and I knew if Alessandro was around, it would get worse. So I thought if I kept his letters, he would eventually—’

  ‘Hold on. Letters? There were others?’

  She nods. ‘He wrote to you every fortnight for six months. I—’ Her voice sounds strangled, as if she can barely get the words out. ‘I burned them. I must have missed that one.’

  I’m so stunned, I can’t speak for a moment. I take a long, slow breath to try and gather myself together. ‘But he was my dad. He came to see me and it was one of the best times of my life. You knew that. I just don’t understand how you could deliberately keep us apart.’

  She whispers something I can’t quite catch. Then she clears her throat and repeats it a little louder: ‘I thought I might lose you.’

  ‘How would you lose me?’

  She sighs. ‘I knew you weren’t happy at home, with Martin in our lives. I thought if you got to know Alessandro, you’d love him so much, you might decide you wanted to go and live with him instead. And I really couldn’t have borne that.’

  I stare at her incredulously. ‘I’d never have left you!’

  ‘But you might have,’ she whispers, staring at me beseechingly, willing me to understand.

  I shake my head. ‘Of course I wouldn’t.’ My throat is so choked up, I can barely get the words out. ‘I just wanted to have my real dad in my life. Was that really too much to ask?’

  Close to breaking down completely, I blunder out of the room and flee upstairs.

  Lying on my bed, I stare at the ceiling, trying to get used to the idea that my dad – my real dad – thought
I was enchanting and wanted to spend time with me. He really wanted to be part of my life. How terrible for him, then, that his letters to me went unanswered. What must he have thought when I didn’t reply? How can I ever forgive Mum for causing us both such grief? I know she was worried she’d lose me but it was still a terrible thing to do, burning those letters. Even she must know that.

  Then a single, perfect thought breaks through the chaos in my head.

  My dad loved that Christmas just as much as I did!

  The tears that spring to my eyes are bitter sweet. If only I’d known that when I was twelve. What a difference it would have made to my life.

  Mum tries to talk to me as I get ready to leave for the cabin, but I’m not in the mood for her attempts at an apology. There’s nothing she can possibly say that will ever make it better.

  Erin is horrified when I tell her. ‘I can’t imagine how you must feel, knowing you could have had your dad in your life all that time.’

  ‘I don’t even know where he is now. I Google him from time to time but there’s never any trace of him.’ I swing the car off the track at the Log Fire Cabin and park up. ‘He lived and worked in Naples when I met him all those years ago. But he’s probably moved from there now. He could be anywhere in Italy.’ I switch off the engine and look across at Erin. ‘When I was eighteen, I went looking for him on the island of Capri.’

  Erin’s eyes widen. ‘What happened?’

  I laugh softly. ‘I didn’t find him. Obviously. He’d mentioned that he wanted to live there one day and, like the daft, innocent teenager I was, I really believed that if I went to the island, I’d find him.’

  Her smile is sad and full of empathy. ‘Isn’t there an address on that letter you have?’

  I nod. ‘There’s a telephone number as well. I tried phoning it but the number was unobtainable. No wonder. He wrote that letter eighteen years ago!’

  ‘You could try writing to the address. Whoever lives there now might know where he’s moved to.’

  I groan. ‘Bit of a long shot, but I will try.’

  ‘You should. And keep Googling him. And maybe try Twitter? And Facebook? You never know, one day …’