The Christmas Spirit

by Susan Buchanan

  She leafed through the usual tales of backstabbing politicians, policies various parties were at odds over, and skipped over who was blowing up who this week. She also flipped past the celebrity gossip pages and headed straight for an article about how Royal Mail shares were doing. She nibbled at her cake every now and then, enjoying a bit of quiet time, although the scene around her was a frenzied one, with frantic shoppers popping into the bakery for a sit down and a rest, after hours of trawling the shops, before getting back to it.

  As Rebecca turned the page, the first thing she noticed was The Melbourne Gallery - Assistant Manager - wanted for immediate start. Closing date 20th December. She read the full job description, her heart beating faster with every word. This was her dream job. This was what she’d been waiting for; these kinds of jobs never came up, or seldom. The salary band was rare, although it did say dependent on experience, but she had the experience. She couldn’t pass up the chance. She loved working for her boss, but she needed to be challenged more, never mind that the extra cash would come in handy. Taking a pen from her bag, Rebecca noted down the number and made a brief note of the details.

  With a sense of mounting excitement, Rebecca downed her hot chocolate and finished the remainder of her cake. Grabbing her bag, and with her mobile in her hand, Rebecca waved goodbye to Natalie and Jacob and set off at a brisk pace down the street. She didn’t want everyone knowing her business and she had to make this call now before she talked herself out of it. Rebecca identified a quiet side street, where there were no carol singers belting out Silent Night, and dialled the number she had written down.

  ‘The Melbourne Gallery, how may I help you?’ a polite, well-educated voice enquired of her.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ Rebecca tried for equally polite, dispensing with her habitual Hi, 'May I speak with Dominic Melbourne, please?’

  ‘May I ask what it’s in connection with?’

  ‘Yes. It’s regarding the advert in The Scotsman.’

  ‘I see, let me see if he’s available.’

  Rebecca thanked the girl, then hung on as she was subjected to yet another rendition of Handel’s Water Music. Why didn’t firms vary their hold music more? she wondered. She had begun to loathe that particular piece of music after having to endure it when on hold to the bank, her insurance company, even her hairdresser.

  ‘Dominic Melbourne speaking,’ a deep, sexy voice came down the line.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Melbourne. My name’s Rebecca Cowan. I saw your advert for Assistant Manager in The Scotsman. I’m very interested in the role and was wondering if you’d consider me for the post.’

  ‘Well, I’ll need your CV, first of all, but why don’t we do a little on-the-spot interview now?’ Mr Melbourne said.

  Now? thought Rebecca. Now! Jeez - she wasn’t ready. Right, c’mon, you can do this, she told herself, mentally giving herself a shake.

  ‘That would be great,’ she said, more confidently than she felt. Exuding self-assurance, she felt, would be crucial to being chosen for the role.

  Dominic Melbourne then proceeded to grill Rebecca on certain aspects of her work history, her current position, her knowledge of the art world, and her contacts, before finally declaring twenty minutes later, ‘OK, I’m happy enough to consider you as a candidate. How’s Monday for you?’

  Monday would be her first day back at work after her week long holiday, but Rebecca had a good feeling about this job, so she said Monday was fine. They agreed a time and Dominic told her to speak to his receptionist for directions, should she need any. When she came off the phone, Rebecca clapped her hands together in glee.

  Finally, a possibility to advance her career. She’d certainly waited long enough. But what should she wear? To her knowledge, she had nothing art gallery assistant manager-ish in her wardrobe. Still, it would give her and Hannah a good excuse to go shopping on Saturday - not that they ever needed an excuse and even less so at Christmas, well most Christmases. With an unmistakable spring in her step, Rebecca bounced along to her next port of call - the pub - it wasn’t every day you secured an interview for your dream job.

  Chapter Sixteen

  13th December

  There were only two of them this year, thank goodness - Friday the 13ths, that is. Natalie always felt she had to work a little bit harder on those days, particularly if they fell in December. There was always the possibility that Fate or other forces might be working against her. If she’d known of Jacob’s plans, she would have tried to prevent him from carrying them out, would have subtly hinted that another day might have suited better.

  Rebecca had come into the café mid-morning and hugged both her and Jacob. She wasn’t surprised, though, when Jacob turned an interesting shade of pillar box red.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Natalie asked her.

  ‘You know how I was in yesterday?’ Rebecca beamed at her.

  ‘Yes.’ Natalie recollected her being there when she had been talking to Sophie.

  ‘Well, if it hadn’t been for you,’ Rebecca’s gaze took in both Natalie and Jacob, ‘I wouldn’t have an interview as assistant manager of The Melbourne Gallery.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Jacob, confused. He was delighted Rebecca was hugging them, but at a loss to follow her reasoning.

  ‘Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Yesterday when I was here, The Scotsman was lying on the table.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jacob, still none the wiser.

  ‘Well, after reading through loads of the articles, I came across a job advert. I took the number, called them up and they did a telephone interview. I’ve to go for a face-to-face interview on Monday.’ Rebecca jiggled on the spot, her excitement obvious.

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ said Jacob, ‘Really good news. Congratulations.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t had the interview yet, but you know how difficult it is to even get an interview at the moment.’

  Rebecca had no way of knowing just how much Jacob knew that feeling. He had had more than his fair share of rejection letters and worse, no word at all from around ninety-five percent of applications. That was the hardest thing - not even hearing back, but then he knew there could be between twenty and two hundred people going after one job.

  ‘This calls for a celebratory hot chocolate,’ said Natalie, ‘And today’s Christmas cake, if you fancy it?’

  ‘Oh, yes please. What’s today’s cake?’

  ‘Today I’ve made cozonac romanesc, it’s a Romanian Christmas cake, a bit like the Italian panettone.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful and light; probably doesn’t even count as eating cake from a calorie point of view, right?’ Rebecca winked at Natalie.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ came the reply of her partner in crime.

  ‘Pity we don’t have an alcohol licence, or we could toast you,’ said Jacob.

  ‘Oh don’t worry, I stopped in at the pub for a glass of wine after I called them. Well, if you’re going to celebrate, do it in style, right?’ Rebecca shot him a huge grin, which reduced him to a deep crimson.

  ‘Right, why don’t you go and sit yourself down and Jacob will bring your things over?’ Natalie said, as one of the suppliers arrived just then, asking her to check and sign for some goods.

  ‘Can you bring it round the back, please?’ Natalie asked. ‘Jacob, I won’t be long. Can you manage?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll just get Rebecca her order.’

  Whilst Natalie attended to the deliveries, Jacob whistled as he prepared Rebecca’s hot chocolate. Had he been aware that the tune was When I Fall In Love by Nat King Cole, he might have chosen not to do what he was about to; but he was a man on a mission. He plated up Rebecca’s cake and took it towards her on a tray, still whistling.

  Rebecca smiled up at him, amused, as he placed the items on the table. Emboldened by her expression, Jacob decided it was now or never.

  ‘Rebecca?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure. Today’s pr
obably the best day. I feel like a kid in a sweetshop,’ she said.

  Hoping he would feel the same after asking his question, Jacob said, ‘I just wondered if you might like to go for dinner or see a film one night?’

  Rebecca stared at him and Jacob knew he had said the wrong thing. What an idiot. What had he done wrong? Was it the way he had phrased it?

  Then Rebecca gave a wry smile and said, ‘Jacob, you’re a really nice guy, and if the timing had been different, perhaps I would have taken you up on your offer, but I’m literally in the middle of a bad breakup,’ Rebecca confided in him. She couldn’t believe she was telling him this. OK she had told him about her interview, but this was something deeply personal which had affected her confidence and her life.

  ‘I’m at the stage of deciding who gets which items of furniture and you’re too nice to be my rebound guy,’ she said sadly.

  ‘It’s fine. Forget I asked.’

  ‘No, I’m flattered you did - thank you.’

  ‘No, seriously, please, forget I asked. I don’t want things to be awkward when you’re here.’

  ‘They won’t be,’ Rebecca reassured him.

  How embarrassing, Jacob thought. The worst of it was he would gladly have been anything to her, rebound guy included. He appreciated that Rebecca wasn’t in a position to start a new relationship, but it still didn’t buoy his spirits. Jacob retreated behind the counter with his joie de vivre somewhat muted.

  Natalie didn’t ask what was wrong with him, but she worked it out from the glances he gave Rebecca and those she threw him. Sighing she thought, my job isn’t always easy.

  It was with a heavy heart and a broken one that Jacob headed home that night, but he perked up when he remembered his sister would be there. She’d arrived the night before. They’d stayed up late drinking, well, he had. Tabitha had said she was too tired and anyway it was red wine he had in, which always gave her shocking hangovers.

  ‘Hello, darling brother.’ Tabitha grabbed him around the middle as he came into the hall.

  ‘What do you want?’ he said flatly.

  ‘Hey!’ Tabitha grabbed Jacob by the arm and turned him to face her. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Jacob, spill, now!’

  Reluctantly he told her about his conversation with Rebecca.

  ‘OK - that’s pretty crappy, but it’s not as if she told you to bog off or anything. She’s only just split up with this guy and the last thing you want to do is get involved with someone who’s still caught up in another relationship.’

  Jacob admitted the truth of this, then said, ‘Mmm, what’s that smell?’

  ‘That,’ said Tabitha, turning towards the kitchen, ‘Is my aubergine cannelloni.’

  ‘Smells better than it sounds,’ grumbled Jacob. ‘Where’s the meat?’

  ‘Oh shush, you’ll love it, I guarantee you.’

  ‘So, what have I done to deserve this?’ Jacob eyed her suspiciously.

  ‘Well, you’re letting me stay until after Christmas, and I’m eating your food...’ Tabitha said.

  ‘Tabs, there’s no way I had the ingredients for aubergine cannelloni - I’ve never bought an aubergine in my life.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Tabitha said, waving him away from the oven, where the cannelloni were almost ready. ‘Help me set the table, I’m starving.’

  As Tabitha used kitchen tongs to put the cannelloni on their plates, Jacob observed her closely. She looked tired, but...happy was the word which fitted best, whereas he knew he just looked tired.

  ‘I can’t move,’ Jacob groaned half an hour later.

  ‘Good, ‘cos I want to have a nice long chat,’ Tabitha told him.

  ‘You’re not going to lecture me, are you?’ Jacob asked, dramatically glancing around for a possible escape route.

  ‘Hardly. Me, lecture you? No, I think you’ll find it might be the other way round,’ she said unsmiling.

  What? Tabitha never did anything wrong. She was perfect. Straight A student, entrepreneur, highly successful, achieved everything she set out to do and more besides. Jacob remained silent whilst Tabitha composed herself.

  Eventually she just came out with it. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Jacob stared at her in disbelief, unable to make the words come. Pregnant? How? Who? When? I mean I know the how, but she doesn’t even have a boyfriend. ‘Pregnant? You’re having a baby?’ he blurted out.

  ‘Yep. I’m twelve weeks. I just had my scan the other day.’ She leant forward and passed him a piece of paper - a sonogram picture. His nephew or niece. Taking the picture in his hands, he inspected the little collection of cells outlined on it. Yes, you could just make out that that was the head and that was possibly the curve of its back and those were its legs. My God, Tabitha was having a baby!

  ‘This is so real,’ Jacob managed, stroking the scan picture.

  Unable to keep her smile in check, Tabitha said, ‘I know.’

  ‘So you’re happy about it?’ Jacob asked her, although what he really wanted to know was who the father was.

  ‘Of course, look at it - it’s beautiful and about the size of a passion fruit now.’

  Jacob knew there was a joke to be made there, but decided now was not the time. ‘So, do you know what it is yet?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a baby,’ she teased. ‘No, you can’t tell that until much later, around twenty weeks, but I don’t want to know. Finding out on the day will be enough for me.’

  ‘Good.’ Jacob’s mind was still racing, trying to work out if Tabitha had told him she was seeing anyone, or even sleeping with anyone, but he drew a blank.

  ‘So,’ he came straight out with it, ‘Does the father know?’

  Tabitha hesitated before saying, ‘Not yet, but I’ll tell him.’

  ‘So, you’re not together anymore?’ Jacob fished.

  Twisting her hair into a French roll by way of a distraction, Tabitha said, ‘Well, we were never actually together. He’s a client.’

  ‘Oh, Tabs.’

  ‘I know, never mix business and pleasure. Pity I didn’t follow my own mantra this time,’ she said, pain etched on her face.

  ‘Is he,’ Jacob didn’t know how to or if he should broach this subject, but finally plumped for ‘Available?’

  ‘Well done on your subtlety, but I can see through you, remember?’ Tabitha said to him. ‘That would be too easy and I never do anything the easy way, do I? He’s married with two kids.’

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘I know. Never mind. I will tell him, though, but make it clear I don’t want anything from him. I’m not out to wreck his family life and it’s not as if I need his money.’

  Jacob nodded in agreement. Tabitha had always been self-sufficient. Rising from the sofa, he went over to her and hugged her. ‘Tabs, apart from it not being an ideal situation, I’m so happy for you. You’ll be a great mum and I get to be an uncle,’ he said happily, as he kissed her on the cheek. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks, you also get to be godfather.’

  Jacob’s head whipped round. ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, who better?’ Tabitha asked, as she smoothed down her dress where it had rumpled from Jacob leaning over her.

  ‘Oh, because I’m such a good role model – successful, an achiever…’ but Tabitha broke in,

  ‘Stop that self-pitying crap. You’re a kind, loving, grounded person who is exactly the role model he or she will need.' She sang a line from a well-known song by The Beatles.

  Jacob laughed then and put his arm around her. ‘Well, I’ll certainly give the baby plenty of love. So have you thought about where you’re going to stay once the baby comes?’

  ‘Ah, I’m glad you brought that up. I was hoping we could stay here.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  14th December

  ‘Thanks,’ Meredith told her sister, as she opened the car door for her. Although the hospital had allowed her to be discharged, it was under strict conditions. Since she had no-one at home
to care for her, they had only agreed when Amelia, Meredith’s sister, had said that she would be coming to her house to stay for as long as it took her to recover. She had already prepared the guest room. As Meredith walked slowly up the remaining few steps of Amelia’s house to the front door, she drank in its extraordinary beauty; wooden, glass-fronted, a mix of Scandinavian and Italian, but paying homage to the countryside. Amelia had even tried to get on Grand Designs when they were building the house, just for fun, but the programmers told her they had recently shot an episode in Scotland, so it would be some time before there would be another, and Amelia and her husband, Gareth, hadn’t wanted to delay the build. But it was the view which was the most impressive, open panoramas over Loch Lomond from three sides of the house; it truly was stunning.

  Inside it was no less striking: underfloor heating in the bathrooms, the ultra-modern kitchen with only the Aga hinting at the traditional, the high ceilinged, wooden beamed, airy bedrooms with dressing rooms attached, and marble lined the hallway. No expense had been spared and the result was quite something. It was a fantastic home in which to bring up the kids, too, as they had their own zones within the house; a play room, a den of their own, as well as there being a family area where everyone gathered in the evening and at weekends. There Gareth would read the newspaper whilst the children did their homework or watched TV, and Amelia read her book or did the crossword; it was family heaven, but something else entirely for a single person.

  Meredith wasn’t used to such noise, activity or untidiness. Amelia saw her shock at the state of the living room when they entered. Max, three, was lying on his tummy using crayons to draw in his Peppa Pig colouring book; Edward, seven, was slumped on the sofa playing his tablet computer with about six or seven empty sweet papers strewn on the sofa cushion beside him; Alannah’s foot was tapping against the coffee table, where she nearly knocked over a glass of juice which was perched close to the edge of the table, as she sang along to whatever tune was playing on her iPod. Having ear buds in meant she had no idea how out of tune she was. At eleven, she was the second eldest; and then there was Jasper, who was reading, and remarkably seemed able to concentrate amidst all the chaos. But then, Meredith supposed he must be used to it. She wasn’t. She felt quite ill at the prospect of having to chat with all these people, even if they were her nephews and niece.