The Christmas Wish: A heartwarming Christmas romance

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘That’s right. You see, my grandmother booked it for the two of us but she died suddenly.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. It’s possible to claim on your holiday insurance, you know. I’m assuming you took insurance out?’

  ‘I’m not sure, my grandma…’

  ‘We can’t refund it here.’

  ‘But we can’t possibly go! I mean, how could we…?’

  ‘I know, I really am sorry but the insurance is the only way to do it. You’d need a copy of her death certificate. Do you have that?’

  ‘I could get one, I suppose.’

  ‘I’d be more than happy to help you complete the paperwork once you do.’

  ‘There’s no way around it?’

  ‘Not really. You could transfer the trip to someone else. Is there anyone who might want to go in your place? There’d be costs associated with that, of course, but it’s another option if you know someone who might be happy to pay them.’

  ‘I thought my boyfriend might go but he’s not keen.’

  ‘Well, it was just a suggestion.’

  ‘Right. Would it make any difference if I still went on the trip?’

  ‘I thought you said you couldn’t because of your grandmother.’

  ‘I mean alone. Just use my ticket and not my grandma’s.’

  ‘Two tickets have been bought and paid for so I suppose there wouldn’t be a need for a single-person supplement. I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Do you want to think about doing that?’

  ‘Is there anything you’d need to do your end to enable me to travel?’

  ‘I’d have to check with the tour company but I don’t think so. There’d be no refund on the other ticket regardless.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that. I wouldn’t be looking for one.’

  ‘If you’re thinking about that option then you might be interested to know that this particular tour company are very good when it comes to solo travelling. They’re keen on bringing everyone together and believe that if nobody is left out everyone has a better time. They’ve set up a Facebook group for people taking this trip alone – they do it for all their trips. We have regular customers who book with them just because of that.’

  ‘People connect before they go? I’ve never heard of that.’

  ‘It’s a lovely idea though, don’t you think? It can make the idea of travelling solo a lot less daunting, especially for someone like yourself who didn’t originally plan to go on their own.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘If you like I could email the link to you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Esme gave her email address, all the while her mind working faster than she could keep up with.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Clare said. ‘I’ll let you have that in the next half hour and you can take a look, see what you think. Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with too.’

  ‘I will. Thanks so much.’

  Esme ended the call and then immediately logged into her emails. Within minutes the message had come through and she clicked the link and requested to join the group. Someone was clearly paying close attention at the office of the tour operator too because only a few minutes after her request had been accepted she’d had a welcome message. She scanned the page, gleaning as much general information as she could, and then took a look at the list of other group members. Not so much of a list – just three names, which her own now made four: a lady named Hortense, an older gentleman called Brian and another guy named Zach. Zach’s photo was a bit grainy but from what she could tell he was a good deal younger than the other two. They all looked nice but Esme wondered whether she’d have a great deal in common with any of them. Zach was perhaps the closest to her own age but it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to strike up any kind of friendship. It wasn’t like Warren was likely to find out, but he was always so insanely jealous when she so much as looked at another man that it was hard to get out of the habit of keeping her eyes shut. Against her better judgement, she clicked onto his profile anyway, too intrigued to find out what sort of man was travelling on his own. The other two were perhaps widowed and that would explain it, but someone younger… there was usually friends or family or a partner. Esme couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t have any of those – at least any of them willing to travel with him. There wasn’t a lot to go on though. His personal bio had a lot of blank spaces and most of his posts and photos were set to private.

  She went back to the tour-group page, clicking through the gallery left there by the tour company. The photos were glorious and they made Esme’s heart yearn for the glittering landscapes of frosted pink skies and endless banks of pristine snow, for valleys of iced trees and chalets tucked into hillsides, for cosy hotel interiors lit by roaring fires and lanterns and guests in thick jumpers warmed by their glow, for night skies alive with green and purple swathes of dancing lights. Her grandma would have loved this so much. Esme could picture them both by the fire at the hotel after a trip out into the frozen landscape, thawing slowly with hot chocolate and still dizzy with wonder at the spectacle they’d seen in the Arctic heavens.

  But then her phone buzzed and Warren’s name flashed on the screen. Hastily she closed the window on the computer. Stupid idea – the best thing to do now would be to get hold of Grandma’s death certificate and get the money back for the trip. She didn’t have to keep it – she could give it to her dad, who would then decide if it went back to the estate or whether he’d let Esme have it. She was sure that he’d do the latter because it had been intended as a gift to Esme in the first place. She opened the message from Warren.

  Hey, babe, what are you doing? Have you been to the gym yet? Michael at the desk says he hasn’t seen you.

  She tapped out a reply.

  I’m running late, things to do. Going there now.

  With a sigh, Esme went to collect her gym gear from the laundry basket. It hadn’t been washed since her last visit but what the hell – it wasn’t like anyone there took any notice of her anyway.

  Nine

  Hi, I’m Zach and I thought I’d post here to introduce myself. I’m thirty-two and this is the first time I’ve travelled alone. I’ll admit to being a bit apprehensive but I thought, what the heck, life is too short so… here I am. Anyway, it would be great to get to know you guys before we head off. Maybe we could even meet at the airport before we fly?

  * * *

  Esme read the post again. Both Hortense and Brian had replied to say they were keen to make friends before they left too. Since then there had been sporadic sharing and posts from all three – mostly of what they were hoping to see and do once they got to Lapland and how excited they were. Hortense and Brian seemed sweet, though not quite as engaged with the whole business of Facebook as Zach, as their misplaced posts and typos attested. Esme had yet to contribute to the page, preferring to stay in the background watching what the others were saying and doing.

  That was, until this very newest post by Zach, in which she’d been tagged. Since then she’d been rereading his others, trying to decide whether she ought to reply or get the hell out of the group. After all, she hadn’t actually decided to travel to Lapland; it was just a crazy idea that she’d indulged with too much room to grow. But when all was said and done, it was crazy and she probably wouldn’t go. If only Warren hadn’t been so dismissive about the whole thing she wouldn’t even be in this situation trying to weigh up complete strangers in the prospect of spending a week with them; instead, she and Warren would be looking forward to a fantastic, once-in-a-lifetime trip together. Esme knew that he’d have had a great time too if he’d just given in and decided to go, and it was only because he was feeling particularly stubborn about it for some reason that he hadn’t said yes. Sometimes, it would be nice if he just thought about her for once, made a sacrifice or two, strived to give her things she wanted instead of her always being the one to compromise on everything.

  She needed to cal
l her mum to get a copy of Grandma’s death certificate, however, if she wasn’t going to take the trip, and that was one conversation she’d really rather not have. Warren had argued that as the trip had been a Christmas gift meant for Esme, the fact entitled her to any refund on it. Esme could see the logic in this, but she felt that as the money had come from Matilda’s purse, and therefore her estate, which now belonged to Esme’s dad, the refund really ought to go to him and she would offer it before she did anything else. Warren would have none of it, reminding her with some bile of the money they were getting through while she lived with him as an unemployed woman. But to phone her parents in the first place for help to get money that she may or may not be entitled to… that seemed like an insult too far in a situation that was already fraught with festering tension.

  Esme turned to her phone again and unlocked it, the page for the solo travellers still open. Her eyes were drawn to Zach’s latest post. It was perfectly innocuous, hardly anything to concern her:

  Only a few days to go and really looking forward to meeting you all!

  With: Hortense Williams, Brian De Santos, Esme Greenwood.

  * * *

  For just a moment she let herself imagine arriving at the airport and the little group waiting for her in the departure lounge, all chat and shy laughter and new beginnings. She imagined getting on the plane with them and arriving later in a new and magical place, the place of all her childhood dreams waiting to be explored and discovered with new friends. And she felt happy, for the first time in weeks. She’d thought coming back to Warren would fill the hole her grandma had left, that it would bring her happiness, but nothing with Warren had changed. She knew deep down she wasn’t content and really he wasn’t right for her. The trip to Lapland with a bunch of strangers was a nerve-wracking prospect, but then if she wasn’t brave, nothing would change. And deep down she knew what Matilda would have wanted her to do.

  Ten

  Warren had left for work and even though he wasn’t there, Esme still crept around the flat as she packed her suitcase. She could sense the impending explosion of anger already, and even though she’d be miles away and out of reach when it erupted, the idea of what it might look like still had her stomach twisted into anxious knots. Outside the street was grey, heavy with clouds that blocked the winter sun. Not that she could see much of it from the tiny bedroom window. It might be a white Christmas, Matilda’s favourite DJ had said on the radio that morning, but didn’t they say that every year? It hardly ever hit just right. In Lapland it was guaranteed. She’d put this to Warren in one last attempt to get him to agree to the trip, but he’d just laughed out loud and then turned up the volume on the TV. He’d never imagined she’d go alone. She hadn’t even imagined it until last night.

  When the cab for the airport arrived outside and the driver sounded his horn, Esme jumped, her instincts hurrying her to the window to shush him even though Warren wasn’t there. The note she’d scribbled for Warren was a product of her chaotic thoughts – written in an unsteady hand, littered with mistakes and vague apologies for things she hadn’t even done and things she would never do. She was still in shock herself, a decision made so quickly that she hadn’t even managed to tell her parents about it yet. A quick phone call to them was another job she’d have to do once she landed in Lapland. At least she’d be able to talk to them without feeling the guilt like a boulder around her neck.

  Esme hadn’t decided that she was never coming back to the flat but, perhaps, in a way she had. The final thing she’d done was leave the carefully cut hair extensions in a drawer in the bedroom and she’d never felt freer in her life as she shook her neat hair out, hair that was now all natural and all hers.

  By the time Warren got home she’d be thousands of miles away, and Esme didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified. One thing she did know, Matilda would have been proud.

  * * *

  Zach had posted in the Facebook group that morning and Esme sat in the cab now reading it, her hands so numb and unsteady she could barely feel the phone in them. It was hard to know what was scarier – the thought of what she’d just done or what she was about to do.

  * * *

  I’ll be in Costa Coffee at departures from around ten. Feel free to come and say hello but if you’d rather not, that’s fine too. There’s no pressure for us to become best buddies or anything, and I understand some might want to keep things civil and nothing more, but I think it would be nice to see a friendly face at the airport. Otherwise, I really hope to see you around at the resort.

  * * *

  It looked as if neither Hortense nor Brian had seen the message yet – certainly neither of them had commented and they usually did – and Esme didn’t know whether she ought to respond. A simple ‘like’ was a bit noncommittal but anything more obliged her to join Zach when she still didn’t know how she felt about that. So she did nothing, only read the post again and made a mental note to look for Costa once she’d checked in her baggage and try to get a good look at him before she decided. If Zach in the flesh looked like an axe murderer she could steer well clear and hopefully he’d be none the wiser.

  She reached down into her bag and ran her fingers against the thick edges of her granddad’s old tickets and the wedding photo and then zipped it up again, satisfied that she had the most important things with her.

  * * *

  Once Esme had got through to departures, the little city of glitzy shops designed to rob you of your holiday money before you’d even got as far as the gates were strangely hard to resist, even though she needed none of the things they sold. And in one of them she caught sight of a lady, who looked very much like Hortense’s Facebook photo, being doused in a cloud of cloying scent by an overenthusiastic sales assistant. Nobody had ever looked less like the sort of person who’d be interested in perfume than this woman (if indeed it was Hortense), with her square little glasses and stout boots and a thick winter coat. And yet she’d been drawn into the shop, answering the siren call that all flyers trapped in the airport inevitably answered, and now she couldn’t escape, even though she looked desperate to.

  With no thought for her own safety, Esme went in.

  ‘Hi…’ She tapped the customer on the shoulder. ‘Sorry to interrupt but—’

  ‘Esme Greenwood!’ the woman cried, pulling her into a surprising hug. ‘I’d recognise you anywhere – you really do look remarkably like your online photo!’

  ‘Hortense?’ Esme asked.

  ‘The same! How the devil are you? Got here alright? I’m so happy you’re here! I was beginning to think I’d be the only girl playing with the boys, so to speak. Not that I couldn’t handle it, of course, but it’s lovely to have some female company too.’

  Hortense began to lead her away, Esme representing a welcome distraction. She lowered her voice as they went, sending a surreptitious glance towards the sales assistant who watched them go, frowning in disapproval.

  ‘Seventy pounds for that bottle of perfume! I would have bought it too and I didn’t even like it!’

  Esme smiled. ‘I know what you mean. They have a way of making you feel obliged to buy whatever it is they’re selling.’

  ‘It’s some sort of voodoo magic if you ask me. Anyway perhaps we should scoot along to the coffee shop to see if young Zachary is there? At least that will force me to stay out of the way of seventy pounds of temptation!’

  Esme nodded agreement. ‘I suppose we ought to.’

  ‘Splendid!’ Hortense looped her arm around Esme’s and pulled her close. ‘Don’t mind, do you?’ she asked, angling her head at the contact. ‘I wobble terribly when I walk – something to do with my inner ear. It’s giving me the devil today. It helps to lean on someone.’

  ‘Oh. Well, that’s OK.’

  ‘Not that I often hang onto complete strangers, of course, but I think we’re friends already, aren’t we?’

  ‘I guess we soon will be if we’re not already.’

  ‘Considering we�
��re already travelling companions,’ Hortense continued.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s a shame we couldn’t have been a little more forward thinking from the start – we could have shared a bedroom and saved lots of money.’

  ‘I didn’t book to come alone originally.’

  ‘No? Really?’ Hortense tapped the side of her nose. ‘A chap, was it? Let you down? Decided to stick it to him by coming without him?’

  ‘No, my… someone who was coming with me couldn’t. Not a man – nothing like that.’

  ‘Quite right – none of my business, of course. Well, their loss is my gain, eh? We’ll be just dandy together, won’t we? Now, if we can find the rest of our group we’ll be tickety-boo.’

  ‘Perhaps Brian has already met up with Zach.’

  ‘Now, there’s a thought. Shall we toddle along and see?’

  Esme nodded, though she had a feeling she’d have had very little choice in the matter even if she hadn’t wanted to toddle along anywhere.

  Hortense wobbled and gripped Esme’s arm with a chuckle. ‘See, there I go! Must take more water with that whisky, eh?’

  ‘Is it a problem? I mean, does it cause you a lot of issues?’

  ‘I’ve fallen over more times than I can count.’ Hortense patted a hip. ‘That’s why I grew all this padding. It’s not fat, you see, it’s so I can bounce; no broken bones anymore!’ She gave Esme a sideways look. ‘If I were skinny like you I’d be smashed to smithereens the times I’ve fallen down the stairs at home.’

  ‘Don’t you have… like… I don’t know… like disabled status or something?’