Finding Love at the Christmas Market

by Jo Thomas

  ‘Yes, great, thank you!’ I suddenly realize I’m still smiling from my cake conversation. I risk a quick glance at my watch and see it’s gone five.

  ‘Off to the film?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes. I’m meeting Heinrich,’ I say, as I pull back the heavy wooden door and swing out of it.

  ‘Heinrich’s coming here? To the Old Town?’ she asks, her smile dropping slightly.

  ‘Yes. I’m running late.’ I grimace and make her laugh.

  ‘Now there is a man who likes things to run to schedule. Like his father before him,’ I hear her say, as I’m out of the door into the chilly evening with soft snowflakes in the air.

  I hurry as carefully as I can, slipping and righting myself, down the small side road to the main square. I can see Heinrich waiting by the clock tower. Tall, dressed smartly but warmly and, despite the big clock overhead, looking at his watch. He looks at it a lot, I realize. But, as I’ve said, I love that he’s reliable. Did I say that word to myself – ‘love’? ‘Love that he’s reliable’?

  I make my way to him through the small crowd as quickly as I can.

  Heinrich doesn’t look happy. In fact, he looks positively anxious.

  ‘Heinrich,’ I call and wave, my scarf flicking up in my face. I nearly slip over on the cobbles again. Must get better boots if I come back, I think. He turns to me and breaks into a smile. When I come back, I tell myself.

  ‘I was worried you weren’t coming. Going to stand me up!’ He manages a laugh despite the tension on his face.

  ‘No, sorry,’ I say, out of breath and trying to catch it, but the cold air hits the back of my throat, making me cough as Heinrich attempts to kiss my cheek, then backs off.

  ‘Sorry,’ I repeat. ‘I got caught up. Delayed.’

  ‘It must have been important. Is everything okay?’ He looks serious.

  If I say it wasn’t important, will he be offended? It wasn’t important, just fun. But what was I thinking? Chatting to a man who isn’t important to me about cake.

  ‘Everything’s fine now, thank you,’ I say finally. ‘Now, shall we meet my friends?’ I’m trying to take some control of the situation. It was just a chat about cake. So why do I feel disloyal?

  I link my arm through his. It was just a cake conversation, I repeat to myself. I notice Heinrich peering at my jumper with surprise.

  ‘My Christmas jumper,’ I say proudly. ‘Here, I got you one too.’ I hand it to him.

  He takes it. ‘Thank you,’ he says, but doesn’t get it out of the bag. As we walk towards the covered terrace in the middle of the square, Pearl and all the others are there, in their matching jumpers. They turn round and smile, and I laugh. Heinrich is clearly baffled.

  ‘Yes, these are my friends,’ I say, holding out an arm. Then another member of the group, wearing a matching jumper, turns towards us and my smile freezes, as if I have a guilty secret.

  ‘Heinrich,’ says William, his hands pushed into his pockets, under his Christmas jumper. ‘Didn’t you get the memo? Christmas jumpers to be worn for free entry?’

  ‘Er, no, I didn’t.’ He looks taken off guard for just a split second. ‘But it’s okay. I’m happy to pay.’

  ‘But you have a jumper.’ I point to the one in the bag.

  ‘It’s okay. I can pay.’ He looks up at William. ‘I can afford it.’

  I’m taken aback by the jibe, if that was what it was. Heinrich suddenly seems back in his comfort zone, as if he’s just won the first game in a tennis match. He pulls out his wallet and produces a note.

  ‘Smashing,’ says Pearl, taking it and handing it to Anja, who’s holding a tin. ‘Every bit helps towards the Christmas Fair Fund.’

  I look at William and my hackles rise. Why did he have to make Heinrich feel uncomfortable? No wonder he retaliated. He’s here for me and to meet my friends. And William’s not one of them! I have no idea what I was doing swapping messages with him earlier. I certainly won’t do it again.

  Heinrich looks around at the Christmas market and I can see he’s judging it, comparing it to his. Then he offers to fetch us drinks.

  ‘Thank you. Glühwein would be lovely,’ I say, touched by his thoughtfulness, the moment of his retaliation against William put to the back of my mind.

  ‘Waiting for your date?’ I ask William pointedly, lifting my chin and glancing around.

  ‘Yes,’ he says, and his shoulders seem to stoop. ‘But I think I may have been stood up.’ Suddenly I feel very unkind. There was no need for me to say that. His phone pings. He pulls it from his pocket and looks at it. ‘Yup, stood up!’ he confirms, and shoves his phone back into his jacket. ‘A cold, apparently. The weather wouldn’t be right for it! Phffff!’ He breathes out heavily.

  ‘Right, come on. Popcorn, everyone.’ Pearl is handing round cardboard boxes, and Anja is helping Heinrich with the mugs of steaming, scented glühwein.

  ‘Take your seats, everyone.’ We all huddle close to the fire pit, which is giving off a glorious heat.

  ‘Not staying, William?’ Heinrich asks.

  William looks up at the screen, which is showing a picture of a happy family. ‘Some of us have work to do,’ he says, and turns away, his dog at his heels. ‘Sugar paste to make.’

  Anja watches him go. ‘That woman!’ She tuts, and looks towards an old man who’s also watching William walk away, leaning on a stick, his hands swollen and twisted with arthritis. He glances at Anja, who puts a hand on his shoulder and tops up his glühwein from a big jug. ‘It’ll be okay. It’ll work out,’ she says to him, and I follow what she says in my limited German. But the body language tells me all I need to know. They’re worried for William.

  Heinrich moves up closer to me on our bench and pulls a blanket over our legs, puts his arm around me and smiles. ‘I brought you this.’ He hands me a little gift-wrapped box.

  ‘Thank you!’ I say, untying the ribbon and feeling touched. I open the box to find a candle inside. I lift it to my nose. It smells of cinnamon and spice. ‘I love it, thank you!’ And I kiss his cheek. I can see Pearl looking on approvingly.

  ‘So you will think of being here, even when you’re not,’ he says, and holds my gaze.

  Eventually I look down and sniff the candle again. ‘It’s lovely. Really thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Oh, and these,’ he says, pulling out a bag of Haribo Starmix. ‘I know you said you like the fried eggs best.’

  Is there no box this man doesn’t tick? He’s even remembered which Haribo Starmix are my favourites from our online chats. ‘And you can have the red hearts with foamy backs.’ I open the packet and put it between us as I snuggle back into the seat. If it wasn’t for William’s face just now, the sadness etched there, and on Anja’s and the old man’s, I would be feeling like this evening was perfect. Heinrich hands me the mug of glühwein and I feel warm from the inside out as I take a sip. I feel like … we’re a couple. I really do. But I can’t help sneaking a glance over my shoulder to see the stooped figure of William, hands in pockets, returning to his shop with his dog by his side. I wonder if this was no ordinary date for him as the film begins. Heinrich and I reach for the Haribos every now and again, our hands meeting, and we share gummy bears, fried eggs and cola bottles. Practically perfect, I think, with a happy little smile, and find myself hoping that William will get his perfect match sometime soon, too.

  TWENTY-ONE

  My thumb hovers over the keyboard. I shouldn’t. But I’m feeling guilty for asking him about his date, and cringing even more at Heinrich’s comment that he could afford to pay. I don’t know if he meant it to wound or not, but I think it did. Apart from that, the evening was lovely. We all enjoyed the film, ate popcorn and drank glühwein. Heinrich kissed me goodnight and my friends gently applauded as we agreed to meet again tomorrow, for dinner with his parents, which I’m not really looking forward to. This is turning from dating and fun into something a little more serious and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  You okay? I finally typ
e and press send really quickly. I know I shouldn’t, but can’t help myself, hoping the guilt will subside. How was the sugar paste?

  Sticky! he replies, making me smile, relieved that my silly swipe hasn’t caused lasting irritation. I watch the screen.

  Then nothing.

  My thumb hovers over the keys. I go to shut my phone case, then open it again, just to be sure. The little dots are dancing to show him typing. I wait. I’m like a teenager, not sure who should make the next move towards a first kiss. Although this is clearly not a kiss. It’s just a quick conversation. My fingers seem to be shaking slightly. What if he’s about to tell me to mind my own business, not his? I feel hot and have butterflies in my stomach. Too much popcorn, maybe. I focus on Heinrich’s goodnight kiss. It was lovely, like well-made shoes, reassuringly comfortable, smelling beautiful, perfect in every way.

  How’s your gingerbread research going?

  My thumb hovers, start, delete and restart. Need to do more! I finally reply.

  There’s another awkward silence and I wish I could take back the message, I frantically search for the remove button. But too late. It’s been read.

  Ping!

  I could show you how to make gingerbread if you like?

  I stare at the screen and bite my bottom lip. Again, I hover over the keyboard. The little dots are dancing up and down again. Pearl and your other friends have been really good helping in the market. I’d like to give something back, get you that tick on the Christmas list.

  I bite my lip, harder this time. Ow! And then, as if he’s reading my mind, You wouldn’t have to tell Heinrich, if it would help. Keep it our secret.

  I’m not sure I could keep it a secret. I’d have to tell Heinrich. I can’t expect him to be trustworthy if I’m the one keeping secrets.

  No worries if it’s a problem, just wanted to say thank you to Pearl and the others for doing their bit. Don’t worry. It was just a mad idea. I can see it would be difficult for you. Hope you manage to see some real gingerbread, lebkuchen, being made.

  He’s right! This isn’t about him or Heinrich. This is about the Christmas list and my friends. And Elsie.

  No, wait. Hang on! I suddenly type. It would be lovely. Thank you. Pearl will be delighted we’ve got another thing ticked off the list! I’ll be able to take photographs and put them in the Christmas memories album. I’m sure Heinrich will understand why I’m doing it. Or maybe he won’t. Or maybe I’ll tell him I’m trying to help seal his deal. But only if I have to. I’ll tell him at some point. Just not yet.

  Okay. It’ll have to be early tomorrow, when I start baking for the day.

  Yes, of course. What time?

  Say 4?

  I stare at the screen. Has he made a mistake?

  Is that okay? he types. I need to clean everything and prepare the ingredients for the day. I usually do that at 5 and start baking at 7, ready to open at 9.

  I cough and clear my throat just as Pearl is coming into the room.

  ‘Lovely night, and your Heinrich is so nice.’

  Just checking, did you say 4? Meaning a.m.?

  Yes. I can almost hear the laughter in his voice.

  ‘Who’s that you’re typing to?’

  ‘Just the cake club!’ I inexplicably fib … again.

  Fine. See you then, I type and close my phone case.

  ‘So, what did you think of William, I mean Heinrich?’ I correct myself quickly and blush.

  Pearl misses just a beat and I hope she doesn’t read any more into that than was intended.

  ‘Heinrich,’ I confirm. ‘What did you think?’

  ‘I think …’ she says, unwinding the scarf from her neck and hanging it on the back of the door, ‘… you may finally have found the one.’ She smiles.

  ‘You said it was just a bit of fun,’ I tease her.

  ‘I think, when you find the one, you just have to be brave enough to take a chance on love,’ she says, as we undress.

  ‘What about you, Pearl? Wouldn’t you like to find love again?’ We climb into our beds.

  ‘I’m a great believer that, if it’s meant to be, love will find you,’ she says. ‘I’ve had my time. I felt loved. And at my time of life, I don’t think it’s really a possibility that it will happen again. I know what it’s like to feel real love. My memory in that department is still working just fine. I’ll always have that. I’m not looking for love any more.’

  ‘But if it found you …’ I trail off.

  As the fairy lights on the market go out, I lie there, thinking about what it felt like to be loved. Was it when I was with Sam’s father? Before we drifted apart and he finally left? Or maybe when I was a teenager on that school exchange trip. That’s when I felt anything was possible, and really in love. I try to cling to that time when life was full of possibilities because I had someone who loved me before he broke my heart. I clasp that feeling as I try to drift off to sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow, meeting Heinrich’s family. I really need to be at my best.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The clock on my phone slips round to 3.30 a.m. I haven’t slept a wink. I slip out of bed very carefully so as not to wake Pearl.

  I get dressed, putting on, well, practically all of my clothes. It’s freezing. I worry my chattering teeth are going to wake her, but she’s in a deep sleep, at last. I’m glad. I’m not sure she’s been sleeping well, judging by her wakeful breathing at night. But last night she seemed to fall straight into a contented sleep. No doubt dreaming of Christmases gone by and It’s a Wonderful Life. I mustn’t wake her. I pick up my boots and creep towards the door. I turn the handle and slowly open it. It creaks loudly. I cringe and turn to look at Pearl in the soft landing light. She hasn’t moved. Her hair is spread out across her pillow and, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of a smile on those lips.

  I close the door. Let out a breath and tiptoe down the dark wooden staircase to the hall, holding my boots to my chest. I slip them on, zip them up over the thick socks that I can now see don’t match.

  I let myself out of the front door and into the freezing misty morning. If you can call this morning. It’s more like the middle of the night. The mist is rolling down the cobbled street, highlighted in the golden glow of the streetlamps, like a woollen scarf wrapping me up in a hug. I hurry into the deserted square, looking up at the big clock tower and the Christmas tree. I feel a frisson of excitement, like a child creeping downstairs to see if Father Christmas has been. I pull my coat around me. The smell of last night’s waffles and woodsmoke hangs faintly in the cold night air, giving it a sweet, comforting tang. I make my way across the square, past the clock tower, the tree, and catch a whiff of the pine as I pass. The branches swing with big white fairy lights and homemade decorations from the local school, mixed with traditional wood ones from the market.

  I want to savour every moment. I feel absolutely at peace. And a strange sense of something else … like a feeling of home, of belonging, like I’m falling in love with the place.

  I walk through the square to the cobbled street on the other side. The only light is coming from the lantern over the alleyway I hid in. The shop’s bay window and the sign above it, opposite, are barely visible in the early-morning mist. But the warmth from the shop draws me closer and, if I’m not mistaken, I can smell baking already. What’s not to love about the smell of baking? It seems to say that everything is okay with the world. When Sam was growing up, I loved the smell of toast in the house. As long as we had tea and toast for breakfast, I felt he was set up for the day. Toast, amazing magic, caramelizing as it cooks.

  I walk towards the shop, stop outside the window. I can see him, dark wavy hair held off his face with his usual bandana, standing in front of the ovens at the back, watching them as presumably they come up to temperature for his morning’s work. I pull off a glove and place my hand on the cold brass door handle. I’m doing this for Pearl and the others, for Elsie and the Christmas memory list. It seems to have brought them all so much closer, and
the problems they left behind seem to have stayed there. I need to help complete the list. Then we have to think about Maeve and her ice skating. Not easy for a woman who can’t manage without her wheelchair.

  I push the door open and am immediately wrapped up in the warmth of the place and the most enthusiastic greeting I’ve ever had. If only Fritz’s owner was as keen!

  ‘You made it then?’ He cocks his head with a half-smile, wiping his hands on a cloth as he walks from the back of the room. I stand up from greeting Fritz, knowing Heinrich would be horrified to see him here, and imagine him sneezing at the sight of the dog.

  He may be a rescue dog but he helps others too. He can sense when someone needs support.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m here and doing this!’ I say, and he smiles. It’s a nice smile … He’s almost attractive, I think, then tell myself off. I laugh, a bubble of hysteria rising in me. It’s early-morning madness.

  ‘Come on, we’re doing it for Pearl and the others,’ he says firmly.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, thinking of Heinrich. I’m not doing anything wrong, I remind myself. I’m doing this for Pearl.

  ‘Well, take your coat off and let’s get started,’ he says. ‘I suggest we make some soft gingerbread for gingerbread hearts and some harder dough to make a small house for the window.’

  ‘That sounds perfect. I loved making gingerbread houses with my grandmother.’

  ‘Hopefully, I don’t resemble her,’ he says, and I realize he has a sense of humour.

  ‘The ingredients have to be right and also at the right temperature for the magic to happen. If they’re cold or too hot, it won’t work. We need the room warm when we’re cooking and cooler when we’re decorating, which is why all my decorating work goes on in the workshop out the back. Much cooler. You can have all the right ingredients, but if the conditions aren’t right, the alchemy won’t work. It will be a disaster. Like the sticky sugar paste!’