The Christmas Spirit

by Susan Buchanan

  So Jacob did as he was told, took a plate from the pile of dishes he had just unloaded, a pain au chocolat from the display case, and made himself some coffee. He noticed the machine was already on. Natalie must have done it earlier; he knew industrial coffee machines could take a while to heat up. As he munched on his pastry and sipped his coffee, he thought about Natalie. She was a bit of an enigma. What must she be? Thirty-five, forty, but with the kindly way of a grandmother, or rather, what Jacob imagined a grandmother must be like. He had never known either of his, as they had both died before he was born.

  Although Natalie had spent much of the previous day bustling back and forth between the kitchen and the front shop, Jacob had noticed her way with the customers. She always had a kindly word for them. She was interested. Chatting with the blind lady, she had told her that her dog had the most beautiful coat and asked her and her companion how long they had been coming here. She’d given the mum who had brought in the baby girl in the front-facing carrier, some recipes for when she got older - swore by them. The woman had been ever so grateful and promised to try them out and seemed pleased at having been given such attention. Jacob realised he had no idea if Natalie had children of her own, but he didn’t want to pry. Women could be complex creatures, although he wasn’t speaking from his own recent experience, he thought woefully. The chance of him getting a date was thin, even now that he had a job. Despite the pay Natalie had discussed with Mrs Williams being at the high end for a bakery assistant, it still really only covered essentials. He could maybe afford to take someone for a coffee, but that would be about it; the grand sum of his wooing efforts. It didn’t occur to him that not all girls need the boy to pay, particularly if they know his circumstances.

  Natalie and he muddled along quite well as the bakery became busier. People were already starting to do their Christmas shopping, and the radio churned out the same songs as it did every year. Unsurprisingly Natalie, a jolly sort, Jacob thought, had the radio tuned constantly to stations playing Christmas songs. She was clearly a festive sort of person. Jacob had never enjoyed Christmas much. Christmas was for families and a time for them to spend it together. Well, that was the general idea, but that concept appeared to have passed his family by.

  For a Wednesday, when many shops in the town closed for a half day, the bakery café was hearteningly full. The cold snap helped, as those who had braved the shops instead of ordering everything online entered the shop frozen stiff. Jacob had heard varying reports on the weather.

  ‘A hard frost this morning, wasn’t it?’ ‘I had to scrape my car windscreen today for the first time this year.’ ‘I’ll need to dig out my gloves.’ ‘Must buy a new winter coat.’ ‘The sunshine’s deceptive, isn’t it?’ ‘Weather forecast said it might be below zero overnight.’ ‘Think I’ll be wearing my thermals tonight.’

  The bakery fortunately was a haven for those seeking refuge from the cold, with its ovens constantly emitting heat, as well as the café section being centrally heated.

  At twelve thirty, the door tinkled once more and a familiar face appeared. Sophie.

  Jacob grinned and said, ‘Ah, so she didn’t eat you alive then?’

  Returning his smile, Sophie said, moving her hair back from her face, where the wind had blown it, ‘Nope, I got away with it. I think she was distracted with too many other things. I did, however, display the spare chocolate éclair on my desk to wind her up, and she was practically salivating and giving me evils every time she walked past.’

  ‘Sounds like you’ve got the measure of her,’ Jacob laughed, his face lighting up.

  Natalie looked on, the corners of her mouth twitching. Jacob had told her when they were closing up yesterday about Sophie’s evil boss.

  ‘So what can I get you today?’ asked Jacob.

  ‘I’m going to have some of that Rocky Road and the usual carrot cake for The Ice Queen.’

  ‘Does she think she’ll be able to see in the dark if she consumes it in vast quantities?’ said Jacob, as he used tongs to lift out a slice of Rocky Road.

  ‘I don’t know about see in the dark, but she definitely seems to have eyes in the back of her head,’ was Sophie’s witty comeback. ‘See you’re busy again. Enjoying it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jacob said, ‘We’ve had a right good mix of people in and today everyone’s trying to get out of the cold.’

  ‘No wonder. It’s brass monkeys out there,’ Sophie shivered. ‘Tell you what, stuff Meredith. It’s my lunch hour. Can I have a latte, please? I’m going to grab a table and read my book for half an hour. You don’t mind do you, if I eat my sandwich here? I know I didn’t buy it here...’ she tailed off.

  Jacob, unsure, cast a glance at Natalie, who nodded that it was fine. They didn’t sell sandwiches anyway and Sophie was still a paying customer.

  ‘Sure, grab a seat. I’ll bring your coffee and cake over,’ Jacob replied, as he placed the carrot cake in a bag and handed it to her.

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ and Sophie ensconced herself in the corner table near the window, which had just been vacated by an elderly couple. She took out her e-reader and powered it up.

  A few minutes later, Jacob brought her order and would have stopped to chat, but a queue was forming again.

  What a nice girl

  Jacob had served at least a dozen customers one after the other. He stopped to draw breath and wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Working in a bakery, he was discovering, was hard work and it was hot, even on the coldest day of the year so far. The ovens weren’t so far away and the proximity to the coffee machines meant he was constantly boiling.He happened to glance up just as a girl came in, taking off her floppy velvet plum-coloured hat as she did so.

  Jacob was struck dumb. She had a perfect rosebud mouth, heart shaped face and porcelain skin, truly peaches and cream. Her hair cascaded down her back over her plum trench coat and he stood transfixed, as she pulled off her gloves. The girl gazed around as if she had never been there before. Perhaps she hadn’t, thought Jacob, who clearly wasn’t in much of a position to know. Noticing him smiling at her, she made her way towards the counter.

  ‘Hi. Can I have a pot of tea, please, Earl Grey, if you have it, and,’ she cast her eye across the selection of cakes and pastries, and came up with, ‘A slice of that chocolate fudge cake. Does it come with cream?’

  ‘I can put some cream on it,’ Jacob said.

  ‘That would be great, thanks.’

  Jacob signalled that he would bring it over and the girl went to grab a seat.

  As she sat down, she spied a woman sitting at the table next to her, wearing a fabulous pair of black patent riding boots.

  I must get a new pair, thought Rebecca. Wonder who’ll buy them for me now; certainly not Ethan. She removed a newspaper from her bag, flipped to the Lettings page and began to read.

  ‘Loch Rd. Modern luxury 2 bedroom unfurnished flat in the popular Winstanton area. Station ten minutes walk away. £500pcm.’

  ‘Grange Avenue. Set in a lovely, quiet, residential and family area of Winstanton, this 2 bedroom unfurnished cottage apartment offers fantastic living accommodation. Unfurnished. Available now. £500pcm.’

  ‘Knap Lane. Spacious first floor apartment, available unfurnished and comprising of spacious and bright lounge with balcony, newly fitted kitchen, 3 double bedrooms...’ Rebecca stopped reading that one. She didn’t need three bedrooms, there would only be her. Possibly there would always only be her. Sighing, she picked up a pen and tapped it against her lips as she read on,

  ‘Barn Crescent. Offered to the market in good internal condition, this particularly spacious two bedroom ex local authority flat located in the Winstanton area...’ Rebecca peered at the photo - ugh! She couldn’t bring herself to live there. And why was everything at the top end of her budget? Five hundred pounds a month. She flicked through a few pages, glancing solely at prices before finally noticing a couple which were a little cheaper.

  ‘Unfurnished, modern second floor f
lat in popular residential area, close to local amenities and transport routes. Internally this property is in walk-in condition throughout and comprises lounge with dining area, modern kitchen, 2 double bedrooms and bathroom with shower. Further benefits include electric storage heating, double glazing, secure door entry system and parking. £395 pcm. Viewing is recommended.’

  Now that sounds more like it, Rebecca thought, although she pulled a face at the prospect of storage heaters. She and Ethan had replaced the storage heaters in their flat with gas ones and a new boiler, at considerable expense, as the storage heaters practically ate money. At least the double glazing would help keep the heating bills down. With energy costs constantly on the increase and some of the big six having just raised their prices by eight percent, it was important to make savings where possible. Listen to her, she sounded as if she was about eighty. That’s what this split with Ethan had reduced her to; someone who talked, or thought, about the price of gas and electricity. £395. What was wrong with the flat? she wondered. It hadn’t even occurred to her that in the twenty-first century a rented flat could come without a shower; it didn’t bear thinking about. She liked a bath as much as the next person, for a good long soak, in a cloud of foamy bubbles, but not for the ten minutes she had in her rush to get out the door every morning.

  The secure door entry system was a big plus, as Rebecca was terrified of being burgled; it had happened to her years ago when she had lived in a ground floor flat and an intruder had broken in during the night. She had disturbed him by getting up to go to the toilet. Fortunately they hadn’t come face to face and the next morning it had become clear that he had escaped through the living room window. When Ethan and she had been together, she had felt so much safer in the knowledge he would be there every night and gradually the fear had left her, but now it had returned. She had still insisted on an alarm when she moved in with him. Rental properties, at least flats, were unlikely to have burglar alarms.

  Unbeknownst to Rebecca, as she perused the newspaper, Jacob whilst bustling around preparing her latte and cake, couldn’t take his eyes off her. He knew he had a queue of customers to deal with, but somehow he needed to find out if this girl came in regularly, or if this was his one chance. Did he look presentable? Would it be bad business practice for him to ask for her number? All this ran through his head as he added the swirl to her latte and the cream to her cake.

  ‘Be with you in just a second,’ he said to the next person in line.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Natalie said, materialising behind him.

  Phew, thought Jacob. That would give him some breathing space. He weaved his way around the tables, smiled at Sophie, who happened to glance up from her book just then, and set Rebecca’s order in front of her.

  ‘There you go. Can I get you anything else? Sugar, perhaps?’

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’

  She’s sweet enough, thought Jacob, catching himself just in time from voicing that.

  Going for the brave approach, he dived in. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before.’

  Clearly thinking he would have already been halfway back to the counter, Rebecca looked up from the property ads, frowned slightly and said, ‘That’s because today’s my first visit.’

  ‘Ah...’ Jacob was stuck for what to say next, but managed to stammer out, ‘Well, don’t make it your last,’ and gave her what he hoped was his least scary, non-stalkerish smile.

  ‘I won’t,’ she smiled at him, then returned her attention to her newspaper.

  What a beautiful girl, well spoken, too, but such sad eyes. Jacob wondered what was going on in her life that was making her so sad.

  Sophie, at the next table, had observed this exchange with interest. When she left ten minutes later, she said, ‘Bye, Jacob. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Bye, Sophie, say hi to Cruella for me.’

  They both laughed and the door chimed as Sophie left.

  Once the lunchtime rush had died down, Jacob cleared tables and stacked the dishwasher. The girl was still there. As he cleared away Sophie’s things, he lingered more than was necessary near the back of the girl’s chair. He saw she was reading the property section of the newspaper; probably checking for houses to buy with her boyfriend, he thought despondently.

  Natalie, looking on, saw the change of expression on Jacob’s face and allowed herself a slight smile. All was progressing nicely.

  Rebecca had soon figured out, once she had started totting up the outgoings on her and Ethan’s flat: mortgage, house insurance, council tax, utilities, as well as food and travel, that there was no way she could afford it on her own. Even if she lived the life of a nun and became teetotal, she would never manage it. And that wasn’t including things like holidays or buying people presents, parking, haircuts, and all the other things that made up her budget. Ethan, having a more highly paid job than her, she knew, would buy her out and although she wasn’t best pleased with him at the moment - the understatement of the century - she knew he’d give her a fair deal. But she knew she couldn’t stay in the flat indefinitely, although he hadn’t pressed her yet. She didn’t know where he was staying, as their rare communication was either by text or e-mail. At some point they would have to sit down and talk to each other about the flat. She was dreading dividing up the items they had bought together. She remembered that, unfairly, Ethan had made her sell some of her furniture when they had moved in together as he preferred his; his fridge freezer, his sofa, his king-size bed. Now she would have the added cost of having to replace those items. The sums she had received for her stuff had been paltry compared with what she had paid for them and what they would cost to buy again. At least renting she wouldn’t have that outlay for a while. If things weren’t so bad at work, she would have brazened it out and asked for a raise. It’s not as if she wasn’t due one; she hadn’t had a raise in three years. Cuts. Yes, always cuts.

  She’d been Art Assistant to the Art Director at Feathers Gallery in Aberfoyle for three years now; her first job after university. The pay was poor, although she enjoyed the work, most of the time. She loved the exhibitions and took great pride in her part in arranging them, creating the buzz for them, even down to writing the invitations. She knew her boss felt she was indispensable, but wasn’t in a position to offer her any more money, as the recession was making itself felt right now. Henry, her boss, was a dear, sweet man, who many often mistook for being gay, due to the timbre of his voice and his eclectic wardrobe, but the truth was, he was on his third marriage and had six children. So she quite understood that when times were tough, the purse strings had to be tightened. She did wonder sometimes how he afforded an assistant at all. She knew she did much more than a normal assistant did; she was Henry’s right-hand woman and he told her often enough, but it didn’t put any extra pennies in her pay packet, which didn’t help her current financial situation one bit.

  Rebecca took out her phone and texted her best friend, Hannah. ‘Hi. How u? Up for a bit of flat hunting with me at the weekend?’

  Deciding that she’d had enough of perusing information on flats, Rebecca embarked upon another task which couldn’t be put off. Usually she loved making a list of the Christmas presents she needed to buy, but this year she took no delight in it. At least she would have one less person to buy for, she thought with a pang.

  She’d have to cut back on presents, too. Hopefully her family and friends would understand. Hannah, thankfully, was already taken care of. She’d bought her tickets to see Rainy Parade, back in August, when they’d first gone on sale. Phew! They’d set her back sixty quid, so she breathed a sigh of relief she wasn’t having to pay for them now. Carefully she wrote her list in the little notebook she carried everywhere with her. She liked to sketch ideas or jot down notes for exhibitions, so always having a notebook to hand was a prerequisite for her.

  Mum - pyjamas; her mum was easy to buy for as she liked to have new Christmas PJs.

  Dad - DVDs, latest blockbusters. Her parents didn’t have
satellite TV, nor did they go to the cinema, so DVDs were always a good bet. Her dad loved action and disaster films. He was never happier than when watching a good film featuring an earthquake or an avalanche.

  Grampa - jumper - preferably from The Woollen Mill. He loved those.

  As Rebecca wrote her list, she found herself feeling lighter; even though it would affect her bank balance and not improve her finances, she allowed herself to revel a little in the season of the year.

  By the time she left the café an hour later, she felt happier. When the guy who had served her earlier said, ‘Hope to see you again soon,’ she’d smiled at him and said without hesitation, ‘You will.’

  Chapter Nine

  5th December

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, I feel like crap, too, and I’m here!’ Meredith coughed into her mobile phone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Meredith, but I can’t stop throwing up and...’

  ‘I don’t want to hear the details. Just make sure you’re in here tomorrow. We have the Xanders presentation in the afternoon and I have a huge list of things I need you to do. Make sure you’re on e-mail later,’ and with that Meredith hung up.

  Sophie pulled the bucket closer to her bed, grabbed some tissues from a box on her bedside table and wiped her brow, which was soaked in sweat. She had a fever, she was sure of it. She’d check her temperature shortly, but right now, she needed to rest. Within two minutes, she was fast asleep again.

  Bloody girl, thought Meredith. Today of all days. Meredith’s talons flew across her keyboard, bringing up her schedule. Something would need to be cancelled. She couldn’t do everything planned for today without Sophie here to do the donkey work. Meredith would never admit it to Sophie, but she depended on her - a lot. There, Pritchards, a small engineering company in Glasgow. They would do - repeat business. She would sweet-talk them and rearrange for next week. She sifted through the rest of her diary and accessed Sophie’s computer for files she knew she would need for the day’s meetings. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had only ten minutes before her first video conference call with the US. Bloody girl!