‘Hugh was a gorgeous chap. So friendly,’ said Pan.
She meant Hugh Grant. Am dram had always been a hobby of Pan’s and once she’d been an extra in Love Actually. She’d got muddled since The Greatest Showman became her new favourite film, but it was kinder not to correct her. Since the diagnosis she felt unsure enough about her life as it was. She didn’t need other people constantly making her feel as if everything about her world was wrong. Gran had caught her crying after her hospital appointment. Something had been wrong for a while and now Pan didn’t know which was worse – the knowing or not knowing.
Nik asked the others where they’d grown up. Pan was from Hertfordshire, Glenda from West London – Gran and Alf the East of the capital. Dinner arrived and Lynn asked if Nik and I were hungry but I explained about the bread and butter pudding we’d had. He asked her to bring over a few glasses. She didn’t seem surprised by his request. The food was easy to manage in the evenings, when residents became tired. Each plate had a small stack of sandwiches without the crusts, a mini pork pie, neat cubes of cheese and several plum tomatoes.
Nik glanced at the laminated menu, standing in the middle of the table. ‘Lasagne and garlic bread tomorrow lunchtime, followed by panna cotta.’ He looked up. ‘How disappointing! I was expecting Yorkshire pudding and steak and kidney pie, jam roly poly and spotted dick – all the classic English meals I’ve heard about over the years.’
‘A pub meal it is tonight, then, to remedy that, if we can manage any more food,’ I said. ‘My treat. We’ll head to The Silver Swan after here.
The pleasure on his face gave me an injection of happiness.
‘Nice to see a young meat-eater. Everyone’s bloody vegan these days,’ said Alf. ‘Fashionable nonsense. It’ll die out, you’ll see.’
‘Not if our planet dies first,’ said Glenda sharply.
‘I enjoy a good barbecue, I must say,’ said Nik. ‘Steak, sausages…’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps crocodile for those feeling adventurous.’
Alf looked quietly impressed.
‘But I mix it up with vegetable skewers and plant-based burgers. After all, we’d be living off nuts and berries as well, if we lived in the wild. You look like a man who’s brave enough to try anything, Alf. You should try a veggie burger next time you’re out.’
‘Rabbit food for a strapping lad like you?’ Alf cocked his head and looked suspiciously at Nik.
Lynn arrived with the glasses. Nik winked at everyone and delved into his rucksack. He pulled out a curved brown bottle with a shiny yellow label.
‘What’s Apera?’ I asked.
‘My favourite drink in the world. It used to be called Sherry. Producers back in Australia changed its name – it comes from the word Aperitif. I bought it as a present for you, Jess, but maybe it’s better to share it here?’
‘Absolutely!’ I said.
‘I’d have thought beers on the beach was more your style,’ said Alf.
I sent Nik an apologetic glance but he burst out laughing.
‘Sorry to disappoint, Alf, but I just love Apero’s buttery, caramel taste. Although believe me, I’ve been teased about it enough in Sydney, when all my mates are drinking beers. I always give my heritage as an excuse. Smoked reindeer and sherry soup is big in Finland and—’
Gran raised her eyebrows. ‘That animal is sacrosanct. No one should eat the symbol of Christmas.’
‘Alice, darling, don’t upset yourself, it’s no different to venison,’ said Pan. ‘I do so love a sherry. My parents used to let me have one with Sunday dinner, when I turned sixteen. I felt so grown-up and would drink out of the pretty crystal glasses pretending I was Grace Kelly in High Society.’
‘Fantastic actress, wasn’t she?’ said Nik. ‘I loved her in Rear Window.’
‘Me too!’ Pan’s eyes sparkled. ‘I always knew I could never be as good an actress as someone like her.’
‘I’m not a drinker,’ said Glenda and cleared her throat, ‘but I have been suffering with indigestion lately and sherry is supposed to be good for that.’
‘Try sleeping on an extra pillow, as well,’ Nik said with a wink.
Glenda actually blushed.
‘I had a discreet word with Lynn,’ said Nik as he poured out the golden, velvety liquid. ‘A couple of glasses won’t meddle with anyone’s meds – although you can only have a small one, Alf.’
‘Better than nothing,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember the last time I drank alcohol.’
Nik raised his sherry. ‘Cheers! Great to meet you all.’
‘What brings you over to Blighty?’ said Alf, after a well-savoured sip. Tight wrinkles around his eyes had softened. In fact, all four pensioners looked somehow brightened by Nik’s presence. More relaxed. Engaged. Or was it the alcohol?
‘Work,’ he replied. ‘And a break from work – it’s complicated…’
I could have changed the conversation, but was curious too.
‘The business, Junior Magic, is in trouble… my family is a toy manufacturer and sales have continually dipped over recent years. I’m taking a couple of months out to see what competitors are doing across Europe, especially around Christmas, so that we can really raise our game next year. I’ve also got a fledgling idea that might work as a side project, but I need to consolidate it. I visited Belgium and Switzerland before going to Germany last week. I’ll try to fit in France – apparently there’s a fantastic toy shop called Si Tu Veux in Paris. I might swing over to Ireland for a couple of days, as well, but now I’m in London I intend to visit Hamleys of course, and Covent Garden – then there are plenty of festive markets around the capital, in November.’
‘Don’t forget Harrods,’ chipped in Pan.
‘Good point. We need a fresh approach. I’ll be looking for materials that we haven’t tried yet.’ He shrugged. ‘I prefer what’s considered a more old-fashioned approach to toy-making… puzzles, quality soft plushies, family board games. But we might need to compromise our ethos to stay afloat. Toys using artificial intelligence is an ever-increasing growing market… My right-hand man, Lachlan, is flying over this way in a week or so and doing the southern Europe leg, starting off with the South of France and then Portugal and Spain. Italy after that. Neither of us have had time for a holiday these last few years but have been saving up for the travel we both love – it kind of kills two birds with one stone.’
‘Never known the likes of it – a job where you can just take a month or so off,’ said Alf. He’d removed his rimless glasses to clean them and put them back, as if to take a better look at Nik.
‘You must have a very creative mind,’ said Gran.
‘Sure, although I don’t do much of the nuts and bolts design – I haven’t got the computer or mechanical expertise. But I research the competition and consumers. My ideas may or may not be taken up. I’ll write a report on my European trip. Share my thoughts. It might mean making some changes to our design team. Hopefully a few new prototypes will come out of it – perhaps a whole new line. And I’m excited to experience a Christmas with weather how it should be – cold and twinkly, even snow if I’m lucky. Perhaps that will get the creative juices flowing.’
‘There’s no point me getting creative.’ Gran sighed. ‘I’m really going to miss making all the decorations this year.’
Pan’s face fell. ‘Yes, getting ready for our party used to remind me of Christmas when I was little, with me and Mum making paper chains out of strips of newspaper. Dad would loop them across the lounge ceiling.’
‘I decorate my place with sprigs of holly, wedged behind picture frames,’ said Nik. ‘And I’ve never bought any baubles. As a boy I’d make my own out of foil and glitter. Now my nephews and nieces do. The tree is covered. And the business runs a competition on our website – we sell our products directly too – for children to make their own and post in. The top three get our bestselling toy of the year and I put their entries on the tree in our reception area.’
‘What a wonderful idea,’ I said.<
br />
‘There’s something about you that sniffs of a bygone age,’ said Gran. ‘I like it.’
‘Show them your phone.’ I giggled.
Nik took it out of his bag.
‘Even mine’s more modern than that,’ said Alf, crumbs of pork pie pastry tumbling from his lips. He looked from Nik to the small mobile. Back to Nik. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen anyone your age with anything but a smartphone.’
Nik smiled. ‘So tell me, why won’t anyone be making Christmas decorations this year?’
‘Because of this place closing,’ said Gran and she slid her half-eaten plate away. ‘Tomorrow was going to be a busy day after the morning’s bus trip into town, for those who want to go to the Remembrance Service at St Martin’s. In the afternoon we were due to have the brainstorming meeting where we choose the party theme. I always look forward to that. We play Christmas music and eat warm mince pies…’
‘Perhaps it’s just as well,’ said Glenda tersely. ‘From what I’ve heard people had been struggling to come up with a new theme. The rumours about his place have distracted them – plus we’ve done so many now and anyway… we should all be focusing on where we’ll be living at the end of this year.’
I’d never really understood why Glenda lived at Willow Court, often keeping herself apart from communal activities. She must have had a beautiful home, what with her fancy job. She could have hired live-in help to assist with her needs due to her osteoporosis, and stayed there.
Nik shrugged. ‘I’m lost. Tell me again exactly why aren’t you holding the party?’
‘Because this place will be closed on Christmas Eve. No one will be living here,’ I said.
‘Then have it a couple of weeks early.’
‘We couldn’t do that,’ said Gran.
‘Why not?’ He leant back into his chair. ‘Let me tell you about Christmas in July, back in Australia.’
‘I’ve heard of that,’ I said.
‘Me too,’ said Pan. ‘Don’t you have two Christmases – a proper one in December, which happens to be your summer and then an extra one in July, when the weather’s better suited? It’s also the name of a wonderful American comedy, filmed in the forties.’
‘Great casting,’ said Nik. ‘And Preston Sturges was a brilliant director.’
‘How have you seen that?’ asked Alf.
‘I love old movies. And you’re absolutely right, Pan, in Australia we have an early Christmas celebration. In July, our winter, we can really enjoy all the festive things that make up a fantasy, white Christmas, like an open fire, eggnog and mulled wine…You just don’t fancy those things so much in the summer. We save the present swapping for the proper time of year but Christmas in July – it’s a fun, midwinter event that in lots of ways feels more traditional.’
‘It sounds very commercial to me – even more so than the actual event,’ said Glenda and straightened her spine as much as she could before peering over the top of her cat-eye glasses.
‘It can be. Retailers love it during what is, traditionally, a quiet month for sales. But it’s also a great opportunity to spend time with family. It’s something to look forward to during the darker, cold months.’
‘What has this got to do with our party?’ asked Pan. She took off her sunhat and then put it back on.
Nik sat upright and stretched his arms around me and Gran. His fingertips rested on Glenda’s shoulder. She leant in. ‘If us Aussies dare enjoy the festive period twice, with an extra Christmas six months before, what’s to stopping you guys have a festive celebration just a couple of weeks early?’
7
‘No one will be in the mood,’ said Glenda.
‘You’re only saying that because you’ve only ever tolerated our parties,’ said Pan. She still had her sunny tones. I’d never heard her say a single word that didn’t sound friendly, even when she disagreed with someone.
Glenda put down her plum tomato. ‘Yes, because in my opinion Christmas is commercialism gone mad… it’s about fake feelings and fake well wishes in cards to people you never even bother visiting. And like I’ve said – haven’t we got bigger things to worry about?’
‘Perhaps a distraction is exactly what you need,’ said Nik.
‘I spent my working life watching decisions being made to maximise chances and profits,’ said Glenda. ‘I took notes on sound plans being made to secure the future. So, like you Nik, I’ve got a business head. Surely you agree with me – we shouldn’t condone us all sticking our heads in the sand about what’s about to happen? We need to focus on moving forwards.’ She wiped her mouth, stood up before he could reply and rubbed her hip before slowly leaving, shaking her head.
My stomach twisted slightly. I didn’t like any sort of confrontation. It always reminded me of living with Mum.
‘Apologies,’ he said and looked around. ‘I didn’t mean to offend. I hope I haven’t upset her with my idea. She seems like a lovely lady.’
‘I think she does have a good heart underneath her… cool exterior. Glenda doesn’t much value our friendship,’ said Pan. ‘No one’s close to her here, so she’s likely the happiest out of all of us to start pushing forwards with plans to leave. Alice probably knows her best.’
Gran shrugged. ‘She’s not a bad sort. Just runs hot and cold. She always remembers my birthday and helps with my shopping but never talks to me about her past and she hates Christmas.’
‘Hates Christmas?’ said Nik.
‘Is that so hard to understand?’ said Alf. ‘When I was younger, some years I was damn lucky to get a satsuma, walnut and coin – and those things meant the world. Parents these days, you see them out gift and food shopping, buying pigs in duvets of all things – I saw them last year – and God knows what rubbish, looking more stressed than Alice if she’s late down to an episode of Neighbours.’
He and Gran smiled at each other.
‘These folks have got more money than good sense,’ said Alf warming to his subject. ‘And others who can’t afford to spend end up with disastrous credit card bills or problems with loan sharks. If Santa existed he wouldn’t want that. Although…’Alf looked sheepish. ‘I don’t mind the festive season, myself.’
‘What do you mean if Santa existed?’ said Nik with a grin. He stared after Glenda as he drained his glass. I followed his gaze. She’d stopped to smooth down the collar of Betty’s raincoat before patting her shoulder and disappearing around the corner.
The residents asked Nik questions about Australia – was it really sunny all the time? Had he gone onto the Sydney Opera House? Their faces dropped when we announced it was time to go. As we left Nik made sure he said goodbye to Betty.
‘The atmosphere here is so welcoming and warm – it’s a real credit to you,’ he said to Lynn.
She looked as if Santa had just given her the biggest parcel ever. ‘I have a great core team – it’s not all down to me. I love my job and will have lots of personal notes to pass on to people looking after them, wherever they all go next. Take your gran, Jess – if her appetite’s off I know she’ll always at least fancy a bowl of cold baked beans. And if Betty has bad dreams, during the night, singing nursery rhymes calms her down. There’s no doubt the next few weeks are going to be a challenge, but I’m blown away by the loyalty of my long-term colleagues. They’ve all agreed to work right until the end. I’ve heard some horror stories over the years of care homes closing and staff leaving as soon as, to start new jobs. I’ll do everything in my power to keep things normal here for as long as possible.’
‘She’s a star, isn’t she?’ Nik said, on the way out.
‘It’s clearly her vocation, working in the care home industry. She’s always got a smile and buckets of patience.’
I took Nik on a tour of Springhaye, citing Buddy needing a good walk as a reason but really it was to build up an appetite for dinner, after the humungous bread and butter pudding. The cold air and brisk pace achieved my goal and an hour later we went into the pub, glad for the warm. Nik and
I raised another glass of sherry to each other in the pub, after the barman had raised his eyebrows at our drinks order.
Nik carried the tiny glasses over to a circular mahogany table. They looked comically small in his large hands, as if we were actors in a movie called Honey, I’ve Shrunk the Glassware. The pub was full of weekend drinkers enjoying pints and spritzers. I’d often treat Gran to lunch here on a Sunday. Oliver came too and was a big fan of the carvery. He’d always remember to bring a packet of cards and we’d play Gran’s favourite game of Rummy. When he was small his nanny had been a big fan of traditional games, even though his parents bought him all the latest technological gadgets. The shiny mirrored bar contrasted with the worn tables and scratched, dark laminate floor. A collection of gnomes sat on the rafters. You’d miss them unless you looked up. The landlady, Kath, used to have them outside but got tired of Saturday night revellers hiding them around the village.
‘You shouldn’t worry about Glenda,’ I said. ‘She’ll have something different to moan about tomorrow –the indigestion that doesn’t stop her eating cake or the pneumonia she thinks she’s caught. She’ll attend the meeting about the party… despite her reservations each year, for some reason she begrudgingly takes part. And I’m glad. I reckon she secretly gets a degree of enjoyment from it.’
He picked up his menu. ‘What can have happened for her to dislike Christmas so much?’
‘I… I haven’t always been a fan myself but as I’ve got older I’ve grown to love the festive season, even though I get a little bored of the music after listening to it all day, every day in the toy shop. Gran used to make these amazing fruitcakes with, literally, inches of royal icing on top. We’d stick on plastic snowmen and reindeer from the pound shop, and she made the marzipan herself.’
The Winter We Met Page 5
