The Christmas Wish: A heartwarming Christmas romance

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘You came here with her?’

  He nodded. ‘She loved Christmas – like, seriously adored it. She’d always wanted to meet “the proper Santa”. We had the most incredible time here – huskies, snowmobiles, cross-country skiing… did it all. But as we flew home she was still disappointed that we hadn’t managed to see the Northern Lights – the weather hadn’t been quite right – so I promised her we’d save up and try again the following year and she was so excited she’d marked a date on the calendar – we hadn’t even booked it at that point. She said it ought to be our annual Christmas trip, and when we had kids we could take them every year too.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Not sure where she was expecting the money to come from, but I would have tried. God knows I would have tried to get it for her. I’d have done anything for her.’

  ‘But you never made that second year?’

  ‘She died in the September.’

  They were silent for a moment, Esme taking it all in and Zach lost in his own past.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said finally.

  ‘Whatever you might think of, you can bet it’s all been said already anyway. I don’t need you to say anything; I just wanted you to understand why sometimes I was a bit…’

  ‘I know. Why did you come back alone? Wasn’t it a painful thing to put yourself through?’

  ‘This year I just decided… I don’t really know why. For some reason I just needed to come back and see those lights. To go home to Libby’s grave and tell her all about it.’ He looked up at Esme, finally back in the room. ‘I suppose that sounds morbid,’ he said, his expression one of self-conscious awareness for the first time since he began the story.

  Esme shook her head. ‘No, not one bit. I understand it more than you realise. Like you said to me, we deal with grief the best way we know how and sometimes it makes us weird – at least to other people. Who am I to judge how you handle yours?’

  ‘So when we were out the other night,’ he continued. ‘On the Northern Lights chase… and I finally got to see the Lights and then…’

  Esme flushed, the memories of that impetuous kiss barrelling into her. There were many things she’d wished undone in her life, but right now that topped the list. She shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry… it was a silly impulse. If I’d known—’

  ‘Of course you didn’t know. I was the idiot for not telling you, so if it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine. And the truth is I liked it. I mean, I really liked it. I like you, Esme, but…’

  She could only imagine what kind of pain and guilt that must have caused him. To be on what amounted to a pilgrimage to honour the memory of his dead wife and yet, at the moment he’d made the focus of that memory, he’d found himself kissing another woman. It was no wonder he’d been avoiding Esme – he must have been going through emotional torture. More than ever she wanted to reach for him. But was this explanation his way of saying that even though he liked her there were still barriers they couldn’t hope to overcome? Wasn’t she doing the same by holding back and trying to listen to reason where her own feelings were concerned? There was an indisputable attraction, there might even be the beginnings of love, but was it enough?

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I suppose it’s just bad timing for both of us. Maybe if we’d met at a different time or place…’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

  His smile was bleak, the smile of a man accepting the inevitable.

  ‘Bad timing,’ he repeated. ‘Seems to be the story of my life.’

  Esme rifled in her rucksack and drew out his gift. This might be the last opportunity she had to give it to him. It might be the last time she ever saw him at all – at least alone. She slid it across the bar towards him.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  ‘I didn’t think I’d see you tonight to give it. Maybe not even at all, considering… But you might as well have it now.’

  ‘It’s for me?’

  ‘That’s why I gave it to you,’ Esme said with a small smile.

  ‘What’s it for?’ he asked, taking the gift and turning it over in his hand.

  ‘Christmas.’

  He pulled at the sticky tape. ‘I didn’t get you anything.’

  ‘I didn’t buy it to get something back. I wanted to show you how much I’ve appreciated your friendship this week. It could have been a very different trip without you, Brian and Hortense.’

  ‘I’m not sure I really deserve this,’ he said. ‘I would imagine I’ve given you as much annoyance as I have pleasure.’

  ‘Not really. Well, not often, anyway.’

  He briefly looked up and she smiled. Then he turned back to the present and tore away the paper to reveal the snow globe inside. He shook it, and then stood it on the bar.

  ‘I love it,’ he said, gazing into its depths as the silver snow began to settle on the tiny replica of Rovaniemi. ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘It plays music too,’ she said, taking it and twisting the base. She looked up to see him smiling as the tinkling tune began.

  ‘I thought maybe it would be a nice souvenir,’ she continued. ‘You know, remind you of the holiday. Maybe even a little of me.’

  ‘I don’t need a replica of Santa’s village to remember you,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll never forget you.’

  Esme forced a smile that didn’t care. But she ached to reach for him, to feel his arms around her as she had before, to feel his lips on hers. Things had changed since then, though. It wouldn’t be smart or right to rush into something that, ultimately, neither of them was ready for. There was too much at stake, too much that could go wrong and, in the end, they might hurt each other more. Friends – that was the best outcome now. They couldn’t go wrong as friends, could they? They could love each other as friends, couldn’t they?

  ‘I think I ought to call it a night,’ she said. ‘We’ve got an early start, haven’t we, and I’m exhausted.’

  ‘But you’re OK?’

  ‘As OK as I can be considering the night I’ve had. Maybe not the best I’ve ever been but I’m sure a few weeks will cure that.’

  ‘A few weeks at your grandma’s house? Not back in the flat with Warren?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not back with Warren. I’ve learned my lesson this time. I’m looking forward to some quiet time at my grandma’s house… my house, I suppose now.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Me too. What’s waiting for you when you get back to England?’

  ‘Christmas with my sister and her brood. It’s not as bad as it sounds though.’

  ‘Honestly, it sounds pretty nice to me.’

  ‘Will you stay for one more drink?’ he asked. ‘A lakka, for old times’ sake?’

  Esme almost said no. But something stopped her. ‘Just one?’

  ‘Cross my heart. We’ve all got to get up tomorrow, and even I don’t fancy a hangover on an early-morning flight.’

  ‘OK, just one. That’d be nice.’

  He nodded at Inari and she began to walk down the bar to them. He ordered their drinks. ‘What I said earlier,’ he began slowly as he watched Inari go to get them.

  ‘Which thing,’ Esme asked, though she already knew.

  ‘About…’ He turned to her. ‘Don’t make me say it again. I just want to know… is there a chance?’

  ‘I want to say yes, but I honestly don’t know. Everything’s a mess right now.’

  ‘I understand. I’m sorry I asked.’

  ‘Please, don’t be. Please just be patient. It doesn’t mean we can’t keep in touch. In fact, I’d really like that.’

  ‘Me too. I don’t want to hassle you—’

  ‘You’d never be hassling me. In fact, I might be very disappointed if you didn’t hassle me a little bit.’

  ‘Friends, then. I can deal with friends.’

  ‘Friends. Thank you.’

  ‘I should be thanking you.’

  ‘What on earth for?’

  Esme looked up as Inari placed their drinks on the bar
in front of them.

  ‘Your room?’ Inari asked Zach, who nodded.

  He continued as she left them alone again. ‘I think it’s no exaggeration to say you might just have saved me. I’d been so wrapped up in my loss for all this time, thinking I could never move on from Libby, and you showed me that wasn’t true. You showed me without even trying, and you made it feel so natural and easy that it’s not this thing anymore, this mountain I can’t climb. There is an end in sight now to all that grief. It doesn’t mean I can ever forget Libby, and I wouldn’t want to, but it does mean I can start to pick up the pieces, get my life on track again. Maybe even find love again.’

  Esme smiled as she picked up her glass. If she’d done all that, then she was glad, but maybe it would end up benefiting some other woman, not her. Maybe she’d paved the way for Zach to find happiness with someone else. Only time would tell.

  Twenty-Two

  In the corner of the kitchen Matilda’s old wind-up radio played Christmas carols while her favourite DJ interjected every so often to interview people about what their Christmas Day plans looked like. Esme smiled as a seven-year-old boy said he intended to spend the entire day with his new toy racetrack and he didn’t care about his mum’s turkey dinner because everyone said it was always dry anyway but they didn’t dare tell her. Esme could picture the mad backtracking of various family members trying to placate a disgruntled cook who’d been serving up their traditional roast every year to barefaced lies of smiling gratitude and traitorous sounds of enjoyment.

  In the year she’d been back at Little Dove Morton there had been many changes. Most of them had been made to her grandma’s old house, which now boasted proper central heating and windows that didn’t rattle with every thunderstorm, paid for with what had been left of Esme’s wedding fund. She didn’t see that she’d need money to get married for a very long time to come, but that was just fine. The décor still needed a lot of updating, but in many ways Esme was in no rush to erase the last traces of her grandma from the old cottage. In fact, she’d decided, for now, to tell people it was extremely shabby-chic retro and they’d all be installing fringed lamps and pasting up faded flock wallpaper soon enough.

  It had been a good year – a time of new beginnings, of rediscovering who she really was and what she was capable of. There had been peace and calm amongst the hills and valleys of her beloved Peak District and she’d savoured every moment. Of course, there had been times when she’d been lonely too, but as many times as she’d felt lost and isolated she’d also been content. It was impossible to be lonely for long when she had new and wonderful friends at the farm shop where she now worked and regular visits from Brian and Hortense, who’d told her at their last one that they’d just booked to go to Crete and get married. They’d invited her, of course, and, of course, she’d said yes. It was another wonderful thing to look forward to, and it reminded her that although she was often alone she had no need to be lonely.

  Putting the finishing touches to a turkey that was so small it was really more of a sparrow, she put it into the oven and closed the door. Compared to the time her grandma would have begun cooking on a Christmas morning, it was late in the day. It didn’t matter because a couple of hours would have it all ready and Esme didn’t see the point in rushing. Potatoes were peeled and soaking, Christmas cake had been made weeks before, prepared following the meticulous notes in her grandma’s old handwritten recipe book, and there was a glass of good sherry sitting on the side, which Esme visited every now and again as she worked and hummed along to the radio. Life was good right now, and even when this Christmas morning brought back memories of Christmases past that hadn’t been so good, she was able to reflect with courage and know that things had moved on, and that she had the power to stop them from ever getting that bad again. She’d had it all along; she just hadn’t ever seen it before.

  Sometimes she’d wonder what Warren was doing. Not because she longed to be with him, but just because she didn’t have it in her to hate him and she wanted him to be happy, despite the bad times they’d been through together. And perhaps it hadn’t all been completely bad. The last official report she’d heard he’d attempted another reconciliation with Shelly, and she’d told him where to go. There was no huge surprise there. Shelly and Esme still spoke from time to time, bonded now by the man who’d been a trial in both their lives, and Shelly had told Esme she’d heard rumours of a fling with a nursery teacher – a young, impressionable, sweet girl who gave him everything he wanted. It all sounded depressingly familiar and Esme would have loved nothing more than to find out where this girl lived and impart the benefit of her wisdom and experience. But, as Esme had, she would have to work it all out for herself. Esme hadn’t listened to anyone else’s advice in that regard, and there was no reason to suppose Warren’s new girlfriend would either, even if Esme could track her down and get to see her. It would all look like sour grapes anyway, despite Esme’s good intentions.

  In the living room, her phone rang. Wiping her hands on a dishcloth, Esme dashed through to get it.

  ‘Mum! Merry Christmas! Are you and Dad having a nice time in Scotland?’

  ‘Oh yes! It’s freezing and your dad’s made a new friend. All they talk about is fishing. So, as you can imagine, I’m having the most wonderful time.’

  Esme laughed. ‘I’m sure it’s not that bad. I bet the scenery is gorgeous and the hotel too.’

  ‘I suppose it’ll do. I’m taking full advantage of the spa and cordon-bleu meals. How are you coping?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just getting dinner on.’

  ‘All by yourself?’

  ‘I am capable, you know,’ Esme said with a chuckle.

  ‘I know, I know. I just meant…’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m managing perfectly well and actually really enjoying a quiet hour – well, an hour with just me and the radio, anyway.’

  ‘I’m still not happy about leaving you today.’

  ‘Mum, I wouldn’t have said it was OK if it wasn’t. You have absolutely nothing to worry about – I’m happy as Larry here. I’ve got my turkey, a glass of sherry on the go, a nice bottle of white in the fridge – not that I’m drowning any sorrows, just in case you’re thinking that – a box of chocolates for the big film on telly later… Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘That all sounds quite nice, to be honest. I might just drive home and join you, leave your dad to his fishing.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! You and Dad have been talking about Hogmanay for years and you deserve a nice long break. You know how I feel about doing things you’ve always wanted to do before it’s too late. I learned all I need to learn about that last Christmas and my opinion hasn’t changed one bit. Let the staff at that swanky hotel pamper you and be sure to enjoy it, and don’t let me see you darken this door until after the New Year!’

  ‘I suppose it will be back to dishwashing and ironing and everything else after next week.’

  ‘Exactly. I’m a big girl now and you don’t need to worry.’

  ‘I know. But it’s Christmas.’

  ‘I noticed.’

  ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Esme smiled. ‘I’m trying to tell you that there’s no need to beat yourself up on my account. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too. Does that mean you’re trying to get me off the phone?’

  ‘Sorry, but sort of.’

  ‘I thought so. In that case I can take a hint.’

  Esme smiled. ‘But I’ll speak to you later. That’s if you’re not too busy.’

  ‘That’d be lovely. Phone after nine, darling – there’s a big Christmas show in the cabaret lounge and your dad wants to see it, so we won’t be able to hear you call.’

  ‘After nine – will do.’

  ‘Bye. Have a lovely day.’

  ‘You too. Bye, Mum.’

  Esme took the phone through to the kitchen and placed it on the windowsill, out of the way of spraying pans but close by, just in cas
e. The clock on the chimney breast said 11 a.m. and she’d planned lunch for 1.30 p.m. Pulling a bag of sprouts from the fridge she began the laborious task of peeling them. As a kid, peeling the sprouts had always been her job and while she was little she’d loved being a part of the preparations for Christmas lunch. It was only as she’d got older she’d realised that the job had been given to her because everyone else knew what a fiddly pain in the arse it was. She smiled to herself as she began to pull back their little green jackets, putting the ones she’d done into a pan of water. Matilda had had a special way of cooking sprouts, and Esme must have been the only child at primary school who’d actually looked forward to that mound of everyone else’s least popular vegetables on the side of her plate. She tried to recall now what method her grandma had once explained to her – back when she’d been a sulky teen who’d only half wanted to listen. How she’d often wished since that she’d listened more to everything her grandma had wanted to teach her. Now that Matilda was gone, Esme realised that with her had gone so much knowledge and wisdom – some that could have been Esme’s if she’d taken more notice. But somehow, she’d always imagined her grandma would be around forever and she’d never been able to countenance a day when that hole would appear in her life.

  In a photo album in her drawer upstairs Esme had put her grandma’s wedding photo, along with her granddad’s tickets for Lapland and Esme’s own from her trip the previous year. Just to show Matilda that she’d done it, that she’d seen the Northern Lights for her. The trip had changed everything, and there was barely a day that went by when Esme didn’t wish she could tell her grandma, face-to-face over a cup of tea and a slice of home-made fruit cake, just how much. She’d had to be content with weekly trips to the graveyard with fresh flowers and a one-sided chat, but that was OK. Everybody suffered losses and everybody had sadness. Even so, life went on, as Matilda had often remarked herself, and nobody was ever gone, not truly, while their loved ones remained.