Holly's Christmas Kiss

by Alison May

  The instruction was delivered with such certainty that Michelle obediently turned her face so the woman could observe her profile.

  ‘I’ll work it out. Where are you from?’

  ‘Leeds.’

  ‘Ah-ha! How old are you?’

  ‘Twenty-nine.’

  ‘Too old.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Michelle responded without thinking. The woman tutted. Again, Michelle felt as thought she was somehow at fault.

  ‘Brothers or sisters?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You’re not sure?'

  ‘Half-brothers. A lot younger than me.’ Michelle petered off. Was the stranger expecting a full family tree?

  Apparently not. She held up a hand. ‘Don’t tell me. It’s coming!’

  She screwed her face up in concentration. ‘Joseph Jolly! And Noel Jolly. You’re Noel Jolly’s big sister.’

  Michelle opened her mouth in surprise, but the woman stopped her again. ‘I said don’t tell me. Polly? Molly? Holly! Holly Jolly! Two hundred new children to learn every year, and twice as many parents, but I never forget a face.’

  ‘People call me Michelle.’ Michelle peered at her companion. ‘Mrs Bickersleigh?’

  ‘Miss!’ The tone was imperious.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Bickersleigh.’ Michelle heard herself chorusing the words like a schoolgirl, which was ridiculous. The woman had never been her teacher. So far as she could remember she’d only actually met her once, at Noel’s nativity play. That must have been twelve years ago. Apparently, she truly never did forget a face.

  ‘You can call me Jean. And, now I know this, you’re Barbara Eccle’s niece, aren’t you?’

  Michelle nodded.

  ‘Barbara and I go way back. My brother took her to see The Beatles in Scarborough. 1963 it must have been. Waste of the price of a ticket that was. She wouldn’t let him past her cardigan.’ The woman sighed. ‘So what brought you down to London? Do you live here now?’

  Michelle explained about the wedding, the cancelled flight, and the train ticket debacle. She skimmed over the mistletoe and the cheesy, weepy movie.

  ‘You poor thing! You’ll need a little something to perk you up after all that.’ Jean produced a hip flask from her handbag, followed by two plastic cups. Michelle raised an eyebrow at the contents of the lady’s handbag. Catching the look, Jean smiled.

  ‘You never know when you might need a little pick-me-up. Chin! Chin!’

  Michelle didn’t even try to refuse. Drinking during the day wasn’t her usual style, but she sensed that no argument would be brooked. She took a sip and felt the whisky burning her throat.

  ‘That’s the stuff. Now tell me about this boy.’

  ‘Which boy?’

  ‘The one who’s house you slept at last night. Why aren’t you living it up in first class with him?’

  Michelle took another sip of her whisky.

  ‘Don’t play with it girl. Drink up!’ Jean topped up her cup. ‘And tell me about the boy.’

  ‘He’s just a boy.’

  ‘No. He’s not. The one’s people say are “just a boy” are always something more.’

  Michelle didn’t answer immediately. She knew she was lying. Sean wasn’t just a boy. He was all man. For all the floppy hair and mischievous attitude, there was nothing boyish about the way he’d pulled her into his arms. Outwardly, she shrugged.

  ‘Nothing much to say.’

  ‘Bollocks.’

  Michelle gulped at the unexpected expletive, and looked again at her travelling companion. Jean rolled her eyes.

  ‘Tell me about Noel then. Was it his mother I heard about a few months ago? Tanya Jolly? The one who died.’

  Michelle shook her head. She really must stop drinking before talking to people. Her normal reserve had been shattered to pieces over the last twenty-four hours.

  ‘Good.’ Jean pulled a face. ‘Horrid to lose one’s mother too soon.’

  ‘Actually that was my mother.’

  ‘Oh. I see. I knew they were related somehow. Were you close to her?’

  Michelle nodded. ‘It was mainly just me and her when I was growing up.’

  Michelle’s plastic cup was topped up. She took another sip.

  ‘So your parents split up? Your father married again?’ Miss Bickersleigh was not, it appeared, a great respecter of personal boundaries.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t see him that often really.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Girls need fathers.’

  The conversation was getting far too personal for Michelle’s liking. She picked up her book and tried to look engrossed. Jean didn’t seem to mind, but Michelle couldn’t concentrate on the words. What was happening to her? Different faces swum across her imagination. Her dad. Sean. Auntie Barbara. Miss Bickersleigh. Sean. Her mum. Sean. Sean.

  And then her dad again. A card every birthday. A letter every Christmas, always with an invitation to join him and Noel and Joe and The Elf. She’d never gone. She’d always said it was because of her mother, but why not this year? The letter had arrived a month before Christmas like it always did. She’d recognised the writing on the envelope and thrown it away.

  And then Sean’s face again. Those stupid green eyes glinting at her, challenging her to loosen up, relax, have fun. Those green eyes that clearly didn’t understand anything about losing people that you loved, or about taking responsibility for yourself or anyone else. What Michelle needed wasn’t Sean. It was simplicity, time on her own with no commitments. If she did happen to decide she wanted a relationship in the future, she would use one of those internet dating sites, where she could set criteria, and control who contacted her. It sounded much more orderly.

  Finally, her mum. She would always think of her at this time of year, even though she’d hated Christmas with a passion. She remembered Christmas dinners after they’d moved out of Barbara’s cramped terrace and into the flat–enchiladas, or homemade pizza, whatever Mum could think up that clashed with the season. She’d even written a cookbook based on the same idea– ‘The Anti-Christmas Cook.’ She wasn’t exactly the new Delia but it had sold reasonably well, and given Tanya a career for the first time in her life.

  Michelle’s own book dropped onto her lap and her eyes settled closed, lulled by the rhythm of the moving train.

  ‘Excuse me.’ The voice seemed to be coming from outside. ‘Excuse me!’

  It was louder now, and closer.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Michelle opened her eyes, and looked around. She was still on the train, but Jean had gone. There was an empty seat beside her and a couple standing in the aisle. The man was glaring at her. ‘These are our seats.’

  Michelle rubbed her eyes and shook her head. ‘No. This is only reserved from Newcastle.’

  ‘Yes.’ The man’s tone was increasingly impatient.

  ‘But we’ve only just left …’ Michelle petered out as she looked around her. The family across the aisle had gone. The teenagers resting on the luggage rack had also vanished. She looked out of the window and saw unfamiliar buildings. She turned back to the couple. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Leaving Newcastle, and these are our seats.’

  ‘Right. Sorry.’ Michelle swung her legs around and slipped past the man into the gangway. She hurried along the aisle, grabbed her case off the luggage rack and dragged it out of the packed carriage. She paused by the door and read the list of stations. Next stop: Edinburgh. Michelle groaned. Why hadn’t someone woken her up?

  Never mind. She’d have to get off at Edinburgh and then catch another train back to Leeds. Her immediate problem was finding somewhere to sit. Her hand went to the ticket, stuffed in her pocket. She had a reserved seat in first class. Of course, that would mean Sean. It was at least another hour to Edinburgh. She turned and peered back down the train, hoping desperately for a free seat.

  Sean stared out of the window as the train moved away from the built-up outskirts of Newcastle and on to cling to the coast towards Berwick. This part of the jour
ney was always when he started to feel as though he was nearing home. Home for Christmas. He smiled to himself.

  ‘Is this seat still free?’

  He was jolted out of his reverie by the voice, but he didn’t turn away from the window. After her reaction to him that morning, he wasn’t minded to throw down the red carpet. ‘I thought you were only going as far as Leeds.’

  There was a pause. He glanced up at her.

  ‘I fell asleep.’

  Despite his resolution to be cool with Michelle, Sean’s face cracked into a laugh. ‘I guess you’re stuck with me then.’

  Michelle slumped into the seat beside Sean. ‘Only until Edinburgh. I’m getting the first train back to Leeds.’

  Sean paused. An idea, only half formed was jumping up and down in his head, demanding his full attention. ‘What if …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look. I know we’ve only just met, but it’s Christmas. It’s silly to be on your own. Why don’t you come with me?’ The question surprised Sean almost as much as Michelle. He’d seen her reaction to the ticket to Edinburgh. At this point a sensible man would have known that it was time to give up, but he couldn’t let go. He felt like his accelerator pedal had got stuck hard to the floor, and the only option was to hold on and enjoy the ride.

  Michelle’s lips pursed. ‘We’ve been through this.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake. You’re already halfway there. You’d really rather go back to an empty flat?’

  Michelle’s expression shifted slightly. He’d done enough sales pitches to see that she was interested, but she wasn’t on the hook yet. Think Sean. What do you know about her? She’s practical. Sensible. Somehow, he needed to make running away for Christmas with a virtual stranger sound sensible.

  ‘Do you even have any food in your cupboards?’

  Michelle shook her head.

  ‘Right. Well, it’s Christmas Eve now. What are you planning on eating tomorrow?’

  Michelle shrugged. ‘Anything but turkey.’

  Sean shifted in his seat to face her.

  ‘We’re not discussing this any more,’ he tried.

  No response. He was going to need to grovel at least a bit before he laid down the law. ‘I’m sorry I bought the ticket to Edinburgh. It was out of order. I should have asked you first.’

  ‘You should.’

  There was a note of acceptance in her voice that hadn’t been there before. Sean’s stomach jumped. She might actually agree.

  ‘Ok. What about a deal? It’s Christmas Eve. What if you give me forty-eight hours? Two days. After that I’ll drive you home myself. Forty-eight hours in the warm, with plentiful food and lots of Christmas spirit.’

  ‘I’m not really a fan of Christmas.’

  ‘Then I’ve got two days to change your mind. Deal?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘It’s not silly.’ Two days. She might go for that, and it was only two days. Nobody could get their heart broken in two days. Sean grinned. This was it. This was his pitch. ‘It’s practical. It saves you wasting time and money travelling home. It saves you wasting more money at home on food and heat, and we both get some company.’

  He held a hand out for her to shake, and waited. This was the sort thing he used to do so naturally, follow his instincts because something felt right. Well, he’d done it now. No option but to stick with the idea and hope she didn’t notice him trembling.

  Eventually she took his hand. ‘But only because it saves me a long trip home.’

  Sean exhaled. ‘Ok. Now for the terms and conditions.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m a businessman. It’s important that contracts are clear upfront. It saves all sorts of problems later.’

  ‘But you can’t add things now.’

  ‘I’m clarifying our agreement. You have to enter into the spirit of things. No refusing to “do Christmas”. No standoffishness. Basically you have to go along with whatever I say.’

  ‘Whatever you say?’

  ‘Absolutely. Forty-eight hours. I’m in charge.’

  Michelle scowled. ‘You’re not in charge of me.’

  ‘And you’re pulling a face, which isn’t very festive.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference. Christmas is for kids. We are not kids.’

  Sean shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with being a kid at heart?’

  Michelle didn’t reply.

  ‘So you agree to my terms?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good.’ Sean turned his face back to the window to give himself a moment to regroup. This was fine. It was only two days. Time limited. Just a bit of fun. He glanced back at Michelle settling back into the seat beside him, and felt his stomach lurch again.

  Chapter Seven

  Christmas Eve, 2012

  Michelle

  ‘This is going to be great.’ Jess is pouring champagne into two glasses.

  ‘Isn’t it a bit early for that?’

  ‘Lighten up.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s Christmas.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve, and it’s half past nine in the morning.’

  ‘It’s exciting.’ She carries her champagne into the living room and I follow her, leaving the second glass on the kitchen counter. ‘Christmas with no family. It’s going to be amazing.’

  I ought to reply. I open my mouth but I can’t make any words come out.

  She claps her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my God! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean “no family” like … Sorry.’

  ‘It’s Ok.’ She didn’t mean anything by it, and it’s been two months. Mum wouldn’t be impressed if she thought I was moping. I force myself to smile.

  Jess giggles. ‘Is it wrong that I’m happy my parents have gone on a cruise over Christmas?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘So what about a cruise?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘With your money.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ I can’t really see myself playing quoits with a party of retired librarians from Barnsley.

  ‘Well you have to book something.’

  I know I do. Mum was very clear about me spending the inheritance on a holiday. ‘I don’t even know how much it is.’

  Jess’s brow furrows again. ‘I thought you saw to the solicitor yesterday.’

  ‘Er … no.’ I tried to go to the solicitors. I had an appointment. I got as far as the door. They had a Christmas tree in the reception. I could see it through the glass. It was a real one, like Dad used to bring home. I could remember the smell of the tree. I could remember Christmas with Mum and Dad still together. It wasn’t the right thing to be thinking about. I’m supposed to be thinking about Mum. I didn’t go in. I put a smile on for Jess. ‘I’ll phone them after Christmas.’

  She takes another sip of champagne. ‘So have you got everything we need?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For Christmas!’

  I gesture towards her glass. ‘Well we did have champagne.’

  ‘You know what I mean. Turkey, little tiny sausages wrapped in bacon, Christmas pudding.’

  ‘I don’t like Christmas pudding.’

  ‘Neither do I, but that’s not the point. It’s Christmassy.’

  I close my eyes for a second. I was hoping for a quiet Christmas. ‘Me and Mum never really bothered with Christmas food and stuff.’

  Jess doesn’t answer, but I can see her nose start to wrinkle and a furrow appears between her eyebrows. ‘I thought it would be nice, after everything.’

  I’m being ungrateful. She’s right of course. It will be nice to make an effort, and at least doing the traditional Christmas dinner will be different from all the years with Mum. ‘Ok. What do we need?’

  ‘Can we get a Christmas tree?’

  I shake my head. ‘No.’

  I find a pen and paper and start to make a list. Jess, it turns out, has very firm ideas about what constitutes a proper Christmas. I put my foot down over the tree and insist that for two of us we only need a chicke
n rather than turkey, but apart from that it’s Jess’s perfect Christmas all the way.

  The thought of braving the supermarket to get all this stuff on Christmas Eve doesn’t appeal, but we can go together, and we’ve got all day. ‘Do you want to drive to the shops?’

  She wrinkles her nose again. ‘Actually, I’m meeting Patrick for lunch.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I mean, he’s going down to London this evening, and I’m not going to see him until Boxing Day.’

  Two whole days.

  ‘You don’t mind going to the shop, do you?’

  ‘Course not.’ Well someone has to go, and I’m not doing anything else, so I might as well make myself useful.

  Jess skips off to make herself beautiful for the sainted Patrick. I collect my bag from the kitchen and get in the car. As soon as I sit down in the driver’s seat I have one of the moments. I’ve never had anything like this before, but since Mum went they come every couple of days. It’s not an upset feeling or anger or even anything you could recognise as grief. It’s just the absolute certainty that everything in the world is just too vast and too empty and too pointless to contemplate. I sit in the car, staring straight ahead, and wait for it to pass.

  Chapter Eight

  Christmas Eve, 2013

  At Edinburgh station, Sean swung Michelle’s case from the luggage rack and hopped from the train onto the platform. He set off towards Left Luggage and had checked in his rucksack and Michelle’s suitcase before she had time to object. He strode out of the station towards the city.

  ‘Aren’t we going straight to your house?’

  ‘Not yet. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re in the middle of the best city on the planet.’

  Michelle opened her mouth.

  ‘Don’t argue. The best city on the planet, with a beautiful woman who says she doesn’t like Christmas. This is part one of persuading you otherwise.’

  Michelle made a face. ‘It’ll be really busy.’

  Sean grinned. ‘Full of potential new friends.’

  ‘And cold …’

  ‘Cold is Christmassy.’ Sean leant towards her, the now familiar scent of his skin filling Michelle’s senses. ‘We had an agreement. You said you’d go along with me for forty-eight hours. You’re barely out of hour one.’