The Christmas Wish: A heartwarming Christmas romance

by Tilly Tennant

  The flight had been thankfully uneventful, and it was followed by a journey to their accommodation which took them through tiny snowbound villages of coloured wood and mellow lamplight that looked like clockwork toys trapped in snow globes, and mile upon mile of forests of majestic iced firs, stark against the blinding whiteness of the landscape in the low Arctic sun. Daylight here was a strange sort of dimness that was lit by the halo of the sun clinging to the horizon, saffron and magenta and lilacs bleeding into the indigo of the sky, and Esme realised that what she was looking at was something she’d read about before she’d come – the polar twilight. She recalled what she’d gleaned of the phenomenon now and that she hadn’t really given it a lot of thought at the time, assuming that polar twilight just meant perpetual night. She never imagined it could look so beautiful. Occasionally they saw roaming deer weaving in and out of the shadows of the trees and birds swooping down from the kaleidoscope of the sky and even a pair of wolves peering at the bus from the safety of the forest edge. With every new and wondrous sight came the same thought – Matilda would have loved this.

  Once, Esme turned to glance at Zach, who sat across the aisle of the bus next to Brian, and at once she knew the look on his face, because it said the same thing she knew hers did – he was thinking of someone dear too, wondering what they would have made of this magical place. He caught her eye, and quickly they both turned back to their windows, the place where both their thoughts were private.

  An hour later the bus stopped outside their hotel. Esme’s tummy flipped as she climbed down the steps and stood outside waiting for her suitcases. Her grandma had made a good call when she’d chosen this one – it was so perfectly traditional in every way. It was a sturdy wooden building with huge windows ranged along the outside walls to make the most of the spectacular polar sunsets, the main roof ascending into a tower with a clock embedded into it and a multitude of fairy lights strung from the eaves. It looked like something from Toy Town in the Noddy books that Matilda used to read to Esme when she was little and she half expected Martha Monkey to somersault out of the entrance and into her arms.

  After a quick run-through of her passenger list, the tour representative led them all inside to get checked in with promises of mulled wine and hot food just as soon as they were settled.

  ‘Isn’t it marvellous?’ Hortense said, grabbing Esme’s hand to steady herself on the snow.

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Esme smiled. ‘I can’t wait to get inside and get warmed up – I don’t think I put enough layers on this morning.’

  ‘One simply can’t imagine how cold it could be,’ Hortense agreed with a sage nod. ‘We think it gets cold at home but this is something else.’

  ‘I have a scarf here…’ Zach interrupted from behind them. ‘If it helps.’

  Esme turned with a grateful smile. ‘That’s sweet of you but then you’d be cold.’

  ‘I would, but I’d also feel very chivalrous about it.’

  ‘And there’s not much chivalry these days,’ Hortense said. She turned to Esme. ‘I wouldn’t sniff at the offer if I were you.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be inside in no time,’ Esme said. ‘I can manage for a few minutes longer. But thank you anyway.’

  ‘Lovely manners,’ Hortense whispered. At least she probably thought it was a whisper, but Esme imagined that more or less everyone, including Zach, would have heard it. If he did, he showed no sign. Hortense was right, though, he did have lovely manners. She liked Zach very much already.

  * * *

  Esme was in her room now, unpacking and freshening up before heading down to dinner in the restaurant. She’d so far ignored three texts and another five calls from Warren, too tired and too worried to answer them. By now he would have found her note – presuming he’d gone straight home – and it wasn’t like anything he’d have to say would be a shock. If she was honest, assuming that he now knew where she was, Esme was surprised his bombardment hadn’t been more aggressive. Maybe that would come later. But now her phone screen lit up and her mother’s number appeared. Esme snatched it from the bed and took the call.

  ‘Esme! Are you alright?’

  ‘Mum… what are you phoning for?’

  ‘What do you mean, what am I phoning for? I’m phoning to ask what on earth’s going on!’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that; I meant I didn’t expect to hear from you.’

  ‘I can’t phone my daughter now?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant either.’ Esme let out a sigh. ‘You don’t sound happy. What’s wrong?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to ask you.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’

  There was a pause. Then: ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Lapland.’

  ‘Lapland?’ her mother repeated in disbelief.

  ‘On Grandma’s trip. I said I might go.’

  ‘Well, yes, I know, but I thought you’d changed your mind.’

  ‘I know but I changed it again. Grandma went to a lot of trouble to book the trip and it didn’t seem right to let it go to waste.’

  ‘So who’s with you?’

  ‘Nobody.’

  ‘So what did you do with Matilda’s ticket?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean, nothing? You’re all alone there? You haven’t taken an old friend or anything?’

  ‘No, no old friends. There’s not really anyone I feel close enough to anymore, not since… Well, you know. But not exactly alone, either. There are other people on the tour with me but I’m alone in the room – nobody’s staying with me.’

  ‘So you’re alright. Quite well… You haven’t run off with some mystery lover?’

  Esme wanted to laugh, but she swallowed it back. ‘Who on earth would I run off with?’

  ‘It’s just… your boyfriend called us a moment ago…’

  She said boyfriend as if the word might choke her.

  ‘Oh,’ Esme replied, her tone carefully neutral though her heart was thumping now. ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘That you’d either had a breakdown or you’d run off with a man but either way we needed to call you to find out what was happening and persuade you to come back because you wouldn’t answer his calls for him to do it.’

  ‘There’s no breakdown.’

  ‘I guessed as much. He can be quite… dramatic, can’t he? Or is it all part of the show, the way he manipulates everyone so he gets his way?’

  Esme ignored the comment. Whether he was or wasn’t, getting into a conversation about Warren’s perceived faults wasn’t going to help her right now. Her mum wasn’t about to let it drop that easily, though.

  ‘Esme… have you left him?’

  ‘For a week, yes.’

  ‘Don’t you think the fact that you’re away now says something about the state of your relationship?’

  ‘It might. I’m still working all that out.’

  ‘There’s a chance you might not feel quite the same as you did?’

  ‘I suppose it would make life easier and calmer for us, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘That’s not the reason I’m asking. You always think this is about me not liking him, but it’s about knowing you’re happy with someone who’s stable and good for you.’

  ‘I know. Right now I’m concentrating on this week. I think it will be good for me – clear my head.’

  ‘I think so too.’

  ‘Right. So you’re not phoning to persuade me to come back?’

  ‘No. I just wanted to make sure you’re OK. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t actually having a breakdown?’

  ‘No, I’m not – not last time I checked.’

  ‘And you’re not with another man?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ah well… we can live in hope.’

  Esme broke into a smile. ‘I’m surprised you gave Warren the time of day so he could tell you all this.’

  ‘What else could I do? He was livid, screaming like a lunatic, telling all so
rts of tales. I had to find out for myself if any of it was true – your dad and I were worried sick.’

  ‘You needn’t have been. I’m OK. I’ll have a nice little holiday and then I’ll come back.’

  ‘And then what? You can say it, you know.’

  ‘I can’t say it because I don’t know. I suppose it will be back to normal life.’

  ‘In London?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  ‘With him?’

  Esme paused. She wanted to make her own decisions in her own time and being here, away from everything, would help her to do that. She didn’t know how she felt about Warren anymore; she only knew that she couldn’t allow anyone else to influence her as she made up her mind.

  ‘I think I’ll have to at first,’ she said finally.

  ‘You have doubts?’ her mother asked, her voice sharp and shrewd. ‘Please, Esme, talk to me. You don’t have to go through everything alone.’

  ‘I can’t right now, Mum, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Could you talk to Dad if not me?’

  Esme shook her head.

  ‘Darling?’

  ‘Sorry, Mum, but no. However, I do like that we’re at darling again rather than pain in the neck.’

  ‘You were never that, Esme. We simply couldn’t stand to see you throw your life away on that man.’

  ‘He’s not that bad.’

  ‘Darling, he almost committed bigamy with you.’

  ‘He hasn’t murdered anyone.’

  ‘It’s still against the law.’

  ‘It’s hardly the same.’

  ‘No, but he’s cunning and manipulative and I only wish you could see it all how we do. He’s no good for you.’

  Esme squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Can we not talk about it now?’

  ‘When are we going to talk about it?’

  ‘Not now. I’m tired and I need to get ready for dinner.’

  ‘Right… so you’re on Matilda’s trip after all? That’s lovely. I’m glad you went.’

  ‘Yes,’ Esme replied, glad her mother had seen fit not to press the argument. ‘I decided… Did you know that Grandma almost came here the year Granddad died? He’d booked it for her Christmas present – I found the tickets behind their wedding photo, stuffed into the frame.’

  ‘I had no idea! I don’t think your dad knew either. How strange. Did Matilda know? Because she never said a word to me or your dad.’

  ‘I don’t think she did, because we talked about coming here before she died and I brought up the times she’d asked Granddad to bring her and she never said a dicky bird about any tickets or a trip she’d never made.’

  ‘What a terrible shame.’

  ‘It is. So I thought it seemed right to come. Sort of for her, you know? Because she never got to.’

  ‘I’m glad you did and I know your dad will be too. Esme, I realise that I haven’t exactly been kind over the past few weeks – and indeed months and years – but unkind words were said with kind intentions. You do see that, don’t you?’

  ‘I do. So what are you going to tell Warren now you’ve spoken to me?’

  ‘Nothing. You’re going to have a lovely time and he’ll have to mind his own business.’

  ‘What if he calls you again?’

  ‘Then I shan’t pick up. How’s that?’

  ‘Perfect.’ Esme gave a half-smile. While she could understand why Warren had gone to her parents (although she was a little surprised he’d had the nerve) she was annoyed that he’d dragged them into the situation. What was more, if he’d agreed to come to Lapland with her when she’d asked him he wouldn’t have needed to worry about where she was or who she was with because it would have been with him.

  There was a brisk knock at the door.

  ‘Is someone with you?’ her mum asked. ‘I thought you were alone.’

  ‘I think there’s about to be.’ Esme went to the spyhole in her door to see Hortense in the hall looking resplendent in something that might have resembled the national dress of some obscure Eastern European state. ‘I met these people… other solo travellers.’ She lowered her voice. ‘One of them is an older lady and she’s sort of taken me under her wing…’

  ‘They’re nice?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘And you’re happy? You feel safe?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Then I’m glad. Phone me every day, won’t you? Just so I know everything is alright.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Good, speak to you soon then.’

  ‘Bye… Mum…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Before you go…’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I love you.’

  Esme could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. ‘I love you too – and I’m glad to be able to say that again.’

  As she ended the call Esme wiped away a lone tear. At least this was a good tear, because there hadn’t been many of those lately. Taking a deep breath and a moment to straighten her sweater, she fixed a smile to her face and went to meet Hortense for dinner.

  * * *

  The dining room was mostly constructed of soft wood, like most of the hotel and in keeping with much of the area’s architecture. It was fragrant and cosy and dominated by large but slowly dripping ice sculptures depicting Santa and his reindeer. Waiting staff scuttled from table to table in smart black and white, while a band in the corner played what Esme presumed to be traditional Finnish songs on traditional Finnish instruments, and although it sounded slightly odd, there was a pleasing quality about it that added to the ambience of the room.

  Everyone on their trip had been invited by the tour company to the welcome dinner and along with Esme, Zach, Brian and Hortense – who had a table of their own – there were perhaps two dozen others from their party sharing the feast. The choice of food on offer was dizzying – there was a wealth of traditional Finnish fare including sautéed reindeer with mashed potatoes and lingonberry jam (though it felt rather too much like eating one of Santa’s helpers, especially with the ice versions looking mournfully in her direction every time Esme raised her head and so she gave this a miss), elk and black grouse and, of course, an array of fish dishes including salmon soup (Esme being reliably informed by a waitress that this was a particular local favourite). There was food to cater for faddy English tastes too, all of it whirling to and from the tables in a list of courses that Esme could barely keep count of. At Zach’s persuasion Esme tried some of the local specialities but she was pretty sure the majority of them had been chosen as a culinary adventure for the holidaymakers because if she was forced to eat most of these dishes for any length of time she was sure she’d have no problem keeping the weight off.

  ‘This fermented whatever it is certainly clears the system, doesn’t it?’ Hortense announced, chomping happily on a large mouthful of something that was a lurid green.

  Brian grimaced while Zach looked vaguely alarmed, and Esme didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or gag.

  ‘Hold on!’ Brian reached for his iPad from the table and unlocked it. ‘Squish in… that’s it…’

  He took a selfie, including Zach, Esme and Hortense and typed for a moment. Esme heard a whoosh and then he locked it again before setting it down to resume his meal.

  ‘Another for the ex-wife?’ Zach reached for his wine with a wry smile.

  ‘You’ve got me already,’ Brian said cheerily. ‘I might even be persuaded to tell a few white lies – really get her going.’

  ‘Tell her Esme’s your holiday romance,’ Zach said with a grin.

  ‘My dear boy,’ Hortense cut in through another mouthful of the unidentifiable lurid green fermented thing she was eating, ‘nobody would believe that such a pretty young thing would be going out with an old chap like Brian.’

  Brian looked sharply at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? A man can take offence, you know. I know I’m not exactly Burt Reynolds but I don’t have one foot in the grave just yet.’

  Esme looked
up from her plate. ‘Burt who?’

  Hortense almost choked on her food. ‘Oh Lord! She’s too young to know who Burt Reynolds is and now I feel older than Methuselah himself!’

  ‘Oh, it’s me,’ Esme said, deciding quickly against asking who Methuselah was too. ‘I’m as dim as they come – never know who anyone famous is.’

  ‘That doesn’t make you dim,’ Zach said. ‘Just selective about what information you retain.’

  ‘I don’t retain any at all – that’s the problem. Thick as… well, thick.’

  Hortense clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. ‘Nonsense!’

  ‘Don’t be daft!’ Brian said. ‘I can’t tell you how many kids have passed through my school over the years and not a one of them that said they were thick actually were. Just because you don’t know everything doesn’t make you thick. Half these so-called boffins haven’t got an ounce of common sense in their heads anyway.’

  ‘Well, they must have some,’ Hortense cut in. ‘Otherwise they wouldn’t be boffins.’

  ‘Academic learning doesn’t need common sense,’ Brian insisted.

  ‘I think you’ll find it does,’ Hortense replied airily.

  ‘How’s that then?’ Brian asked.

  ‘How is it not true?’ Hortense countered. ‘Please provide evidence for such an assertion.’

  ‘I haven’t got any bloody evidence,’ Brian said irritably. ‘How the bloody hell would I have evidence? It’s what I’ve seen with my own eyes. I’m the one who’s worked in education all my adult life.’

  ‘I feel education per se would be very different from scientific research.’

  ‘Who mentioned scientific research?’

  ‘You did. You referred to boffins.’

  Perhaps sensing a new heated debate between the two, Zach stepped in.