Christmas at Conwenna Cove

by Darcie Boleyn

  Louise soon returned to the table with a tray. She placed it on the table then went to sit down.

  ‘Careful!’ Grace warned.

  ‘What? Why?’ Her mother looked around her, then at her chair. ‘There’s nothing on the seat is there?’

  ‘No, but once you sit down, it’s hard to get back up.’

  Louise giggled. ‘We should get your father one of these then. Do him good to sit still every now and then. Boy does that man like to keep active.’

  ‘I’m surprised he didn’t want to come today.’

  Simon loved a good shopping trip, but today he had declined.

  ‘He said he wanted to finish sanding the bedroom floor.’ Louise rolled her eyes. ‘I told him it could wait, but he said he wanted it done before Christmas.’

  ‘But it’s the spare room, no one will be sleeping in it.’

  Grace started as the reality of her words sank in. Had Sam survived, it would have been his room. But any place they lived in that had a third bedroom would always have a spare room.

  Louise lowered herself carefully into her seat.

  ‘It’s okay, Grace. It is the spare room. We have to accept that. To be honest, I think it’s actually easier to say that here, because in our old house the room was always going to be Sam’s room… even after all this time. But now, we’re in a cottage he never lived in, and although I thought that would make me sad, it’s actually a bit easier. I’ll never ever forget him, obviously. I mean… he was my baby boy. But he’s gone and we had to make a decision about what to do at this stage in our lives. Your father always loved Cornwall, so this seemed like the best place to choose.’

  ‘You love it too though, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. But after years of watching your dad living a kind of half-life, I wanted him to have what he really wanted. He’s such a good man and he deserves to have what he wants. Don’t tell him this, but I’d have been happy moving anywhere, even to a small apartment in the south of France. But your dad had his heart set on Conwenna Cove and now that we’ve moved, well, I’m certain we made the right choice.’

  Grace nodded then leaned forwards and picked up her cappuccino.

  ‘I got you a cherry Bakewell tart. Is that okay?’

  ‘Fabulous. Just what I need before we hit the shops.’

  Grace sipped her drink, savouring the frothy surface of the coffee and the bitterness underneath tempered by the creamy milk. She hadn’t know that Conwenna was mainly her father’s choice, had always thought her parents agreed on just about everything. But then that was probably why they got on so well. A relationship was about give and take and being prepared to make compromises. Kind of like a good cappuccino, where the milk and coffee went so well together. Would she go well with Oli, Amy and Tom? They were very different, had lived different lives, although they had both been through a devastating loss. Would that bond them? Was there more beneath the surface that would bring them together?

  She shook herself. She was getting way ahead of herself and it wasn’t like her. Grace was not a hopeless romantic: she was a pragmatist. She got things done and didn’t waste time swooning around over handsome men. Yet with Oli, she was convinced there was something more there. Something they had only just scratched the surface of and she wanted to find out more, to see if they could be more than just people who shared the loss of a loved one.

  ‘Have your tart, Grace, and stop daydreaming.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘Anyone would think you’d recently bumped into a handsome vet, wouldn’t they?’

  Her mother winked.

  Heat rushed into Grace’s cheeks. What had her mother seen? First Maxine and now her own mum. She stretched forwards and grabbed her Bakewell tart, then took a bite. At least with a mouth full of cherry and almond deliciousness, she could avoid responding to the topic her mother had just hinted at.

  Ten minutes later, Grace heaved herself out of the chair and pulled on her fleece and her gilet. She slipped her bag across her body then turned back to her mother.

  ‘Mum? What is it?’

  Louise was bright red, her eyes bulging and her hands white as she gripped the sides of the chair.

  ‘I can’t get up.’

  ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m really stuck.’

  ‘Hang on, I’ll help you.’

  Grace went around the table and took her mother’s hands.

  ‘After three.’

  ‘One… two… three!’ Grace pulled, but just as her mother was almost on her feet, she lost her balance and Grace ended up being dragged back down on top of her.

  ‘Grace!’ Louise squealed.

  ‘Hold on, Mum.’

  Grace tried to move, but she couldn’t budge her knee without putting it somewhere that would hurt her mother. So she tried to use her hands to push herself upwards on the arms of the chair, but she just couldn’t hoist herself high enough.

  ‘It looks like I was giving you some sort of bizarre lap dance that went wrong.’

  Grace started to giggle and beneath her, she felt her mother laughing too.

  ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘Grace, get up. I’m too warm now. It’s my age!’

  ‘I can’t, Mum, I’m stuck.’

  ‘Morning ladies, need a hand?’

  Grace raised her head to find herself looking at Oli. Either side of him were Amy and Tom, their mouths open and their eyes wide as they took in the spectacle before them.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Tom asked. ‘Are you playing Twister?’

  Grace started giggling again.

  ‘Hold on.’ Oli went around behind her. ‘I’ll have to put my hands on your waist, Grace. Is that okay?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll pull you backwards so you don’t accidentally knee your mother in the stomach or something. Just don’t change your position.’

  Grace was still giggling. ‘I can’t move. I’m weak.’

  ‘Right, I’ve got hold of you. Ready…’

  Oli tightened his grip on Grace but his fingers tickled as they dug into her sides, so when he pulled, she wriggled, still weak with laughter but finally upright again.

  ‘Easy, Grace,’ he whispered into her ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin there. ‘So you’re ticklish are you? Useful information.’

  A tiny shiver ran down her spine and the hairs on her arms stood on end.

  What did he mean? How could that be useful? Tickling was such an intimate thing. She stood there trying to compose herself as he moved around her and went to her mother.

  ‘There. Now let me help you up too, Louise.’

  He took Louise’s hands and with one firm tug, pulled her out of the chair.

  There was a round of applause in the café and Grace realized that they’d become the morning’s entertainment. In her weakness, she hadn’t noticed what was going on around her.

  ‘Well that was fun,’ Oli said, his eyes twinkling as he held Grace’s gaze.

  ‘Fun?’ she asked. ‘Embarrassing more like.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Coming to the rescue of two beautiful redheads is certainly my idea of fun.’

  ‘Get on with you, Oli!’ Louise laughed. ‘I’m old enough to be your mother.’

  ‘And our granny.’

  They all looked at Tom who gazed at them, his face the picture of innocence.

  ‘I guess I am, Tom.’ Louise smiled at him. ‘Now there’s a thought.’

  ‘We’re going to put our Christmas decorations up today!’ Tom clapped his hands. ‘Want to come and help?’

  ‘Oh… uh…’

  Grace looked at Oli to try to gauge his reaction to his son’s question, but he was removing his coat and a strange expression had taken over his face, as if he’d been transported far away to a different time and place.

  ‘Perhaps, Tom. It depends on how long my mum keeps me walking around the shops.’ Grace pulled a face at the little boy and he nodded his understanding.


  ‘Daddy, can we have milkshakes now, please?’ Amy tugged at Oli’s hand.

  Oli glanced up again as if he’d suddenly been dragged back into the moment.

  ‘Yes, Amy. Of course.’

  ‘They’re on me.’ Grace pulled her purse out of her bag. ‘It’s the least we can do.’

  Chapter 9

  ‘What about this one?’

  ‘Yes, that’s lovely too, Mum.’

  ‘Why don’t you try something on?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ll find something closer to Christmas.’

  ‘It’ll be here before you know it.’

  Her mother disappeared back into the changing room.

  Grace was sitting on a small blue sofa outside the changing rooms of a department store, as Louise tried on several outfits she thought might be nice for Christmas. It was a tradition of theirs to find a new outfit for Christmas Day as well as one for Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve. It had been one of Louise’s many coping strategies after Sam had died. She said that they had to celebrate occasions in style, to make an effort to live life because that was what Sam would have wanted them to do.

  And really, when Grace thought about it, life was mapped out by the occasions they celebrated. The days in between passed by, but the Friday night movie and popcorn, the Saturday night curry and wine, the Sunday dinner, the birthdays, weddings and festive periods, were what it all came down to. Without those markers of time, life would have just been a series of days. So Louise was right to insist upon keeping their little traditions going.

  Christmas music drifted out from the speakers and tinsel shone everywhere she looked. The mannequins were decked out in Christmas jumpers, and Santa hats and Christmas trees positioned around the store featured the range of lights that the retail chain had for sale this year.

  When they’d left the café earlier, Grace had still been giggling as Tom had been begging Oli to let him sit in the sticky chair. In his innocence, he’d thought Louise and then Grace had been stuck because the chair was covered in some adhesive substance. Oli had been trying not to laugh himself as he explained that Tom could sit in the chair, but might find that Louise had taken all the stickiness with her. This had led to Tom diving into the chair and bouncing up and down to test its stickiness. Grace hadn’t wanted to leave them, and it had been strange saying goodbye, because she’d sensed that Oli had more to say but circumstances and present company made it difficult for him. So they’d held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than would be expected from mere acquaintances, then Grace had turned and left the café. But at least she knew there was a chance she’d see him again soon. Especially seeing as how Tom had given her an opening by asking her to help them with the Christmas trimmings.

  As the opening chords of Wham!’s Last Christmas floated out into the store, a memory flashed into her head, as vivid as if it had been yesterday. Grace and Sam, just five and six, sneaking carefully downstairs in the dawn light on Christmas Day, keen to see if Santa had been. They’d held hands, both trembling with excitement, and when they’d entered the living room of their family home, they’d paused, their mouths falling open in awe. Gifts had been piled on both of the sofas, their wrapping paper different – gold for Grace and silver for Sam – as well as under the tree. Grace had wanted to start tearing through the paper immediately to find out what was inside but Sam had cautioned her, wise even at six years old. He’d told her to wait for their parents to get up, because they’d want to see what Santa had brought too. As a compromise, he’d allowed her to sneeze loudly at the bottom of the stairs, and soon Louise and Simon had appeared, hair sticking out, bleary-eyed, but awake. And a wonderfully happy Christmas day had begun. Sam had always known how to do things to ensure that everyone enjoyed themselves. It was as if he had been born with that knowledge, as if he’d known from the outset that his life would be short, so he’d need to live every moment to the full and in the best way he could.

  She wondered what he would think about Oli. Then she cringed. She couldn’t believe that they’d been rescued by Oli in the café. What a coincidence that he’d come in just as they were stuck on the squishy seat. And she’d been a giggling mess sprawled on top of her mother. What must he have thought of her?

  And what about the thing he’d said about tickling? Every time she thought about it and the way his breath had gently caressed her neck as he’d whispered into her ear, she tingled all over. Did Oli want to get to know her better? Her body certainly wanted to get to know him even if her mind was trying to reason with her.

  Sometimes she wished she could just switch off her mind like she could a set of flashing fairy lights. It would be nice to stop thinking, just for an hour or two. Writing did that for her by distracting her, but when she wasn’t writing, it was as if her brain offered up an open house to all and sundry ponderings and the subsequent disquiet they could cause.

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘Oh, that’s gorgeous!’

  Louise did a slow turn and the purple sequins on the tunic top sparkled.

  ‘It really suits you.’

  ‘Right, I’ll get this one then.’

  ‘You should.’

  ‘And the black silk trousers?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Your father will have a fit at the price tag.’

  ‘Well, he should have come to keep an eye on your spending then. Anyway, Mum, they can be my treat.’

  ‘Nonsense! What else has your dad got to spend his money on?’

  Grace shrugged. She often thought the same thing about her own money. She earned a good wage from her writing and had plenty saved up for a rainy day. Perhaps it was time to start spending some of it, because as she well knew, and as Sam would have reminded her, life was for living and tomorrow is not guaranteed.

  * * *

  Grace tucked her arm into her mother’s as they walked through the compact streets. The UK’s most southerly city reminded her a bit of Cardiff with its variety of shops, its cosmopolitan feel and fascinating architecture. The city was dominated by the cathedral with its gothic towers that reached up into the winter sky, and she kept finding her eyes drawn to them, wondering what they had seen and heard in their time above the city in the heart of Cornwall.

  They passed wonderful Christmas window displays that sparked a frisson of childish excitement in Grace. One, in a card shop window, featured a life-size sleigh complete with six reindeer and a jolly Santa Claus who faced outwards towards the street as if looking for all the well-behaved children. Another, in a shoe shop, had a wide range of shoes and boots in every shade of red, propped up in fake snow. Grace rarely wore heels but she had to admit that the red stilettos on show were very appealing, and she was even tempted to go in and try them on. Her favourite display was that of a lighting shop, where lights in a variety of shapes hung from wooden beams suspended from the ceiling. There were intricately detailed hearts that glowed from within, gingerbread men with red and green glowing buttons, miniature Christmas trees adorned with tiny colourful lights and snowmen with glowing smiles and illuminated hats and scarves.

  As well as the shops, Truro boasted fancy coffee houses, trendy cocktail bars and inviting ice cream parlours. The aromas that seeped out onto the streets were mouth-watering and even though Grace had eaten breakfast and a Bakewell tart, she could easily have gone into one of the venues and eaten more. The Cornish air and appreciation of good food were certainly rousing her appetite.

  Everywhere she looked, she saw happy families: parents and children were smiling and chatting excitedly about the approaching festivities and what gifts they needed to buy. For a moment, Grace was hit by a wave of frustration. She would never have that, never have her own children to enjoy Christmas with. It just wasn’t possible. But then her thoughts strayed to her mother and she squeezed her arm tighter. Louise had had that, once, a long time ago. And lost it. She’d never have grandchildren and never know the excitement of seeing Sam or Grace’s children as they opened their gifts or enj
oyed their Christmas dinner.

  ‘You okay, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, love, why?’

  ‘I was just thinking about the things that we’ll never have. Not meaning to bring you down, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore it.’

  Louise nodded. ‘I know. But I try to think instead of what we do have and what we once had. I’m luckier than so many people. I had a wonderful son, and I still have a beautiful daughter and a loving husband. Many never have that. So even though I lost Sam, at least I had him for as long as I did. I’m not saying that I’ve never considered what I’d sacrifice to have him back, because I’m only human, but I know that’s not possible and that life has to go on. Besides, you could still have a husband and a family. If you wanted it.’

  ‘We’ve talked about this, Mum, and it’s not going to happen.’

  Louise shook her head. ‘Never say never, Grace. If you meet the right man and he wants to have a family with you, then it’s something you may well consider then.’

  ‘And go through what you and Dad did?’ Grace shuddered. ‘I just couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘I’d go through it all again just to have Sam for the time I did. Look at what light and laughter he brought with him.’

  ‘He did bring so much love.’ Grace swallowed hard. Perhaps she was being unfair on her parents by being so adamant that children were not on her horizon; the risks were so great, that it was more than she could imagine opening herself up to at any point in the future. But she didn’t know if she was strong enough to take those chances or to expose her parents to more heartache. It was far safer to stay single and not to want what she could not have. Besides, not everyone had to have a husband and children; sometimes life just took a different course.

  ‘Ah there’s that cookery shop I wanted to go into. Come on, let’s see if we can find your father the deep muffin tin he’s wanted since he saw it on TV.’

  ‘Okay.’ Grace nodded, glad of the diversion because cakes were always a good distraction.