The Little Christmas Kitchen

by Jenny Oliver

  The cycle had been stunning. The snow melting around her in the low morning sunshine. The river a sparkling reminder of her view of the sea, the sound of the gulls and the honk of the cruise ships. She’d gone past Westminster Abbey and Big Ben. Seen the Houses of Parliament dusted with white and heard the bell chime as the clouds merged grey over the spire like candy floss on a stick.

  Now, as she headed up to the Piano Bar, she pulled off her hat and fumbled nervously with her gloves as she took the stairs. She cringed when she looked down and realised that her shoes, wet from the cycle, left footprints behind her. As she tried to wipe them away with her toe the doorman angled his head and said, ‘It’s not a problem, madam.’ Which just served to make her more embarrassed and unsure. Then as the door opened to the Piano Bar she was immediately grateful she’d swiped Ella’s snakeskin Gucci cigarette pants and red cashmere sweater.

  The people were impeccable.

  A gentleman with perfect olive-skin and designer stubble, wearing loafers with no socks and a blazer with a crest on the pocket, was sipping a cappuccino with a woman dressed head to toe in beige with matching highlights. Alone in one of the armchairs, a lady, rotund in fur with a tiny dog in a Louis Vuitton carrier, was doing the crossword over her bifocals. In the centre table four businessmen were having hushed chat over eggs Benedict and by the window a blonde woman with massive sunglasses sat tapping on her iPad. Maddy was certain she’d seen her on the front of yesterday’s Times, which was delivered to Ella’s door every day. Her first thought was that she wanted to take a picture for Dimitri, but knew this wasn’t the place to start getting her phone out for a quick celebrity-spot snap. Instead she did a sort of crab-like sidestep to the bar in the hope that she might remain inconspicuous and be able to survey the area for her dad.

  It was as she was about to perch on a stool and pretend to look over the breakfast menu, that she heard her name called from a table over by the window.

  ‘Walter?’ she said, surprised as she looked towards the voice.

  ‘Madeline, Madeline. Don’t you scrub up well?’ Walter said, lounging back in his big leather armchair, a black coffee steaming on the table in front of him. ‘Your father’s over at the corner table with his rather stunning companion.’

  ‘Oh god I didn’t think she was coming.’ Maddy bit her lip and shielded herself behind the art deco screen.

  Walter took a sip of his coffee. ‘I’ve never seen Edward Davenport look quite so nervous. It’s marvellous.’

  Maddy peered over the top of the screen to where her father and Veronica sat. ‘You think he looks nervous?’

  ‘Oh absolutely. Terrified. Whatever you’ve done to him it’s certainly worked.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’ Her tone sounded childish as soon as she said it.

  ‘I bet you didn’t.’ He laughed. ‘Go on, shoo. Go and play happy families.’

  Maddy sighed, suddenly deflated by the whole idea, wishing that he hadn’t brought Veronica.

  Walter watched her over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘You should make the most of it while you have it, my dear. Believe me, when it’s gone it’s terribly lonely.’

  She glanced back to see if for once he was actually being sincere but Walter wasn’t looking at her, instead he’d put his cup down and was flicking through The Independent.

  ‘Walter?’ she started but he waved a hand at her.

  ‘Go on, go away.’ he muttered without looking up. ‘I have important things to do.’

  Maddy walked tentatively along the edge of the art deco screen that divided the room, past the table of businessmen and the woman who she was sure was famous and paused just before getting to her father’s table.

  He hadn’t seen her and she took the opportunity to watch him. His black hair was greying at the temples and just starting to recede. He’d hate that, she thought, remembering when she’d stand on the toilet seat and comb his hair for him. He didn’t have many wrinkles but his skin looked thinner, paler, like maybe he was doing too much exercise. He did look nervous, she realised, playing with the ring on his finger, checking his nails were clean, checking his watch. She noticed that he still wore his grandfather’s old Timex which surprised her because she’d expected him to have upgraded to a Rolex.

  Veronica was reading a magazine, her hand resting on his arm. She looked amazing, hair pulled back tight, neutral make-up, black polo-neck and tiny pearl studs.

  In a couple of steps Maddy was next to their table, they still hadn’t seen her so she coughed and her dad shot up, hand on her arm, smiling nervously. ‘Sweetheart, you made it. God you know part of me thought maybe you might not come. No. Yes. No I’m glad you’re here. Sit down.’

  He moved round to pull out one of the big leather armchairs for Maddy. As she went to sit down he leant forward to pass her the menu and they collided. He apologised, she claimed it was her fault and then perched awkwardly on the edge of the seat.

  ‘The eggs are legendary.’ her dad said as he went back round the table to his own seat, ‘The smoked salmon is beautiful. Veronica always has the granola.’ He was scanning the menu and then looking up at Maddy with each suggestion. ‘You might want the pancakes. Not as good as Mum’s but–’

  She looked up, startled that he still called her Mum. He didn’t notice, just kept reeling off possible options.

  ‘I’ll just have a coffee and a croissant, please.’ Maddy said.

  ‘Almond? Raisin? Chocolate?’ Her dad was rambling.

  ‘Just plain please.’ Secretly she wanted everything on the menu. There were dishes on there that she’d never tasted, like haggis on toast or Burford Brown soft-boiled eggs. There was smoked haddock which she adored and eggs Arlington which she saw from the plate on the table next to their’s that the poached egg came wrapped in smoked salmon. But she wasn’t relaxed enough to enjoy anything she ordered, and a plain croissant seemed like something Veronica couldn’t say anything about.

  ‘Ok. Ok.’ Her dad held up a hand, ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’

  He dashed off to the bar to order which caused much fluster amongst the waiters and Maddy wondered if he’d gone because he needed a breather.

  Veronica sat silently over the other side of the table, her fingers thrumming on her closed magazine. Maddy glanced up at her and then across, pretending to admire the art on the wall behind her while wondering what she was thinking.

  After a moment, Veronica sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. Maddy noticed the red soles of her Christian Louboutin boots.

  ‘So you have grown-up at last.’ she said, her expression unreadable.

  Maddy was so astonished by the comment that she didn’t reply. Just floundered, wondering if she’d heard her correctly.

  ‘I have been waiting for this for a long time. For finally you to grow up.’

  ‘Well I don’t see that that’s–’ Maddy started, her voice full of affront.

  Veronica held up a hand to cut her off and leant forward, pointing to her across the table. ‘Don’t you start. I have lived with your ghost for years. You were young and I understand that it is hard when your parents split up but you waited too long to fix things. And even now pff–’ She blew out a breath. ‘You come to London and you don’t even see him?’ She shook her head. ‘If you were my daughter I would have had words with you long ago.’

  ‘Well it’s lucky I’m not isn’t it?’ Maddy said tartly, eyes narrowed.

  ‘Don’t start, Madeline. Don’t be defensive. Last time I see you, you have pigtails in your hair and you are shouting to him to choose between us. That is the behaviour of a spoilt child. I don’t want you in his life because you have made it unbearable. It was unbearable for him to choose. Imagine–’ She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. Maddy watched as the five or six gold bracelets she wore fell with the movement to rest midway down her arm, her skin tanned the colour of caramel. ‘You imagine now what he lived with?’

  ‘Well he bloody chose you didn’t he.’ Maddy curled her l
ip and slumped back, arms crossed in front of her.

  ‘No you stupid girl. He made the choice not to let you dictate his life. Who should have to live by the rules of a nine year old? You were just too stubborn to see it. Like your mother.’

  Maddy gasped. ‘Don’t you dare bring my mother into it.’

  ‘Oh,’ Veronica waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Such melodrama. Always with you.’ She glanced over her shoulder to see Maddy’s dad coming back to the table holding a tray of coffees, beaming at them. ‘This is your chance, Madeline, to show whether you are still a spoiled child or finally a grown woman.’ Veronica unclipped her purse and pulled out a mother-of-pearl cigarette case. ‘I wonder which one you will choose.’

  ‘Coffees. All round. I’ve never done this before.’ her dad said, holding up the tray. ‘Quite novel, really. Darling, there’s no granola so I got you avocado on toast. Maddy, there was a choice of jams, I chose apricot, you like that don’t you?’

  Maddy nodded. Internally reeling from Veronica’s little pep talk.

  ‘I am going outside for a cigarette. Don’t wait for me if the food comes.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutement.’ Veronica pushed back her chair and sauntered out, people pausing their conversations as she passed.

  ‘You ok, Mads?’ her dad asked, pouring milk into his Americano.

  ‘Yes, fine.’ She nodded. Still stunned. ‘I’m fine. Can you hold on a minute?’ Maddy mumbled as she stood up. ‘I just have to nip to the loo.’ Then she scarpered in the direction of the toilets.

  Once inside she put her hands on the marble sink and took a couple of calming breaths. Then she looked up at her reflection, saw the dark circles under her eyes, and whispered, ‘He’s not the victim. I’m the victim. I was the victim. Shit.’ She ran her hand over her forehead. It had never really occurred to her that he’d missed her. He had Ella. He had given Ella every opportunity that Maddy hadn’t had. He had let Maddy go. Yes perhaps making him choose between her and Veronica had been stupid but she’d only been little. All she saw Veronica as was a woman who drove a nail further into the possibility of him coming back. He had left them and she had kept him away.

  Locking herself in a cubicle Maddy shut her eyes and saw him standing at the back of the crowd at her aunt’s funeral. The sharp breeze making the ends of his scarf flutter and his overcoat flap open. She remembered the look of surprise on her mum’s face when she saw him. Felt the jolt herself that he had come. All dressed in black, but still with his briefcase, straight from work.

  The afternoon was freezing, not a cloud in the sky just a pale icy blue sheet above them that stopped the frost in the graveyard from melting. The trees were painted white, the ground crunched underfoot. Up until the point she’d seen her dad, Maddy had been consumed by the fact she’d forgotten there was a hole in the bottom of her left shoe and her toes were frozen. She had avoided looking at anyone’s faces just to block out the sadness. But as the crowd walked away from the grave, Maddy heard her mum sob so loud it made her cry herself. And her dad was there in a second, his arm around her mum holding her up, stopping her from falling. And to Maddy the moment had been magical, like a movie. The moment that would change everything. When he realised that he still loved their mum and would support her forever. He’d walked her back to his car as Maddy and Ella had trailed behind. Maddy hopping with pins and needles, her left foot completely numb, but not caring because she had watched, seen her dad’s fingers press into the thick faux-fur of her mum’s coat, and thought that this would be the moment he realised that he was wrong.

  ‘Sorry.’ Maddy said as she got back to the table, ‘I just felt a bit queasy.’

  ‘Are you ok? Do you want me to get you anything? A soda water? That’s good for stomachs?’ her dad asked, poised to jump up from his seat.

  ‘No, no I don’t need anything.’

  The waiter had brought the breakfasts. In front of Maddy was a huge fluffy croissant and a little bowl of golden jam. Her napkin was green with The Ivy embroidered in white. If she hadn’t been with her dad she knew she would have slipped it into her bag as a memento.

  ‘God it’s so nice to see you.’ her dad said, just staring at her as she unfolded her napkin and laid it in her lap.

  The best Maddy could do was a half-smile as she started spreading jam on her croissant.

  At the wake Maddy had piled her plate high with mini sausage rolls and was popping them one by one into her mouth as she sat on a footstool in front of the fish tank. Ella was nibbling at a ham sandwich when she suggested they go in search of their parents.

  It was their grandmother’s house and while all the rooms were familiar, they felt like strangers as they watched people in black nodding and laughing softly as they ate off paper plates.

  The door to the library at the far end of the corridor was ajar. Maddy recognised her mum’s voice. Neither of them suggested they tiptoe but it seemed appropriate, and when they got to the door they stood silently, watching as their mum ran her hand down their dad’s cheek, bit her lip and half-smiled, thanked him for coming and reading the tilt of his head as a lean in for a kiss, opened her mouth, closed her eyes and waited.

  Maddy waited.

  Ella put her hands over her eyes.

  But he didn’t lean in, instead her dad gently lifted his hands and put them on her mum’s shoulders and holding her where she was – Maddy expecting a crushing Gone with the Wind-style embrace – took a step back and muttered, ‘Sophie, don’t.’

  ‘Really?’ Her mum’s eyes had snapped open. ‘I need you.’

  ‘And I’m here.’

  ‘Exactly!’ her mum had said, her hands going up to her head, pressing into her temples. ‘I thought that was…’ She glanced to the door, seemed to see the kids but not see them. ‘Ella said?’ she paused. ‘Oh god. I can’t believe this is happening when my sister’s just died.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I’m so stupid. It was just when Ella said you missed me–’

  ‘Ella said what?’ Her dad frowned.

  ‘Nothing.’ Her mum shook her head. ‘Ella didn’t say anything. It’s nothing. It was me, I just thought, this woman’s French for god’s sake. You can’t even speak French.’

  Next to Maddy, Ella had started to cry.

  ‘What have you done?’ Maddy hissed.

  Ella had cried more.

  Maddy had run away and half the wake had been spent with her dad and mum trying to coax her down from their granny’s apple tree.

  When her dad had had to leave Maddy had refused to kiss him goodbye. She had said that she would never see him while he was with Veronica and her dad had taken a deep breath and said, I can’t do that, Maddy.

  And while her parents had a hushed argument at the front gate, Maddy had run to Ella, who for the first time wouldn’t tell her that everything would be ok, who instead glared at her and said, Why did you have to tell her about Veronica? Why couldn’t you have just shut up. This is your fault. It’s all your fault.

  And Maddy had narrowed her eyes and hissed, It’s not my fault, it’s yours. You said something and now they hate you. We all hate you.

  After that, Maddy cringed to think about it now, she had squeezed her way between her mum and her cousin Rachel who was just sitting bleakly on the sofa seemingly trying not to break down about the loss of her mum. Maddy had pushed her way onto her mum’s lap, separating her from Rachel, wanting her all to herself, wanting her to protect her from reality and as she was shutting her eyes to block out the world she had just seen Ella standing in the kitchen doorway, watching pale-faced and alone.

  None of them had ever talked about that day again.

  Now as Maddy spread jam on her croissant and her dad tried to make small talk, she thought about her mum wanting her to stay in Greece. Wanting to hold everything just as it was. And Maddy so desperate to be set free.

  It wasn’t the same, she knew. But perhaps, she realised, there were no victims. Just people. And what if it was
no one person’s fault, but everyone’s?

  CHAPTER 29

  ELLA

  ‘I thought you blamed me because I told you that he didn’t love Veronica.’ Ella toyed with the top of a mince pie that her mum had put a huge plate of on the table. They were her aunt’s speciality – bite-sized with pastry stars on the top. Sophie would always make them on her own, really pedantic about every aspect, like a Christmas ritual of remembrance.

  Ella picked the star off and put it back on again. ‘I’ve thought that for ages but it’s only as I’m saying it now out loud that it seems ridiculous. You knew, didn’t you?’ Ella thought about Max and Amanda, and about all the times she’d wondered if he was seeing someone else, kidding herself that she was enough but knowing that it was just a matter of time. ‘You knew he loved her right from the beginning.’

  Her mum did the tiniest of nods. ‘Of course I knew.’

  Ella pushed the plate with the mince pie on it away and leant back in her chair.

  ‘Ella, it’s an enormously overused phrase, but no one teaches you how to be a parent. Especially a single parent. Especially when you’re completely floored.’ Sophie crossed her arms on the table, exhaled and seemed to sag down an inch or two. ‘It was the worst time of my life. I just– I will forever regret that I didn’t see my sister and you know, as an aside from this, I just wish you and Maddy would get on again. I know she was the spoilt youngest but you were so good with her, so patient. And of course I knew he was in love with that bloody French woman.’ She laughed but Ella didn’t. ‘You shouldn’t have heard or seen that conversation, I should have talked to you about it, but to be honest I just wanted the whole day to disappear. We got stuck afterwards about Maddy refusing to go and see him and that was just horrendous and I suppose the moment passed to talk to you. I think because you were so strong and clever I thought you were more of an adult than you actually were.’