The Little Christmas Kitchen

by Jenny Oliver

  Ella had to press her fingers into her eyelids and hold them there.

  ‘That’s what I’m sorry about. I’m sorry that I didn’t see you were a little girl still who held all this inside you. And then you stopped letting me come near you, I couldn’t even give you a hug and you wouldn’t tell me why–’

  ‘I thought I was fat.’ Ella mumbled, her eyes still closed.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It was because I was fat.’

  ‘You weren’t fat.’

  ‘I was fat.’

  ‘And that’s why I couldn’t hug you? Are you serious?’

  Ella opened her eyes and looked at her hands.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Ella. You wally.’

  ‘I’m not a wally.’

  ‘You are!’

  Ella shook her head, sat back, laughed lightly and her mum smiled. Then Ella said quietly, ‘From my side you picked us. You must see that?’

  ‘I’m sorry Ella, but that wasn’t the way it was. It was much more complicated than that. We were all involved. We all should have done things differently. But you can’t just blame me. Yes I should have talked to you about what happened at the funeral but you should have talked to me. You should have said how you were feeling. And then you go and get all made over by Veronica–’

  ‘Don’t start that.’ Ella held up a hand to stop her.

  Over by the fireplace the wood cracked and bubbled as the flames started to die. Ella pushed her chair back and went to get more logs. She could feel her mum watching her.

  ‘Ok fine.’ Sophie went on. ‘You became who you wanted, whatever, but that person was a complete stranger to me. You ran off with this boy who had no interest in any of us, then you jetted in and out of here like some film star and acted like we’re all completely beneath you. Ella, I didn’t even recognise you when you first showed up with him, my own daughter.’

  As Ella threw the wood onto the fire the cat scarpered at the noise and the flames licked wild and red. She could feel an anger tight in her chest that she just couldn’t let go. Years of lonely rejection sat still burning. Years of isolation. Letters written in faux excitement about what a great time she was having at school. A life in two halves that never crossed; influences, people, that she couldn’t mention. The churning in her stomach every time she thought about the lies she’d told her mum. The pressure. The confusion. The loneliness. Through the window the clouds made the afternoon like night, the rain unceasing on the horizon like ink tipped in water. The leaves of the trees shaking with every drop. The cat was now pressed up against the wall under the dripping awning. The road a river of stepping stones.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she heard her mum ask.

  Ella bit her lip. Dimitri had said that courage wasn’t in acts of bravery but in facing your fears. Her fear, she realised as she watched the fire, felt her face flush with the heat, was the simple fact that she had thought her mother didn’t want her as she was.

  That she had lived her life with a tiny voice right at the back of the cupboard in her mind that said, just Ella is not enough. The more you achieve, the more you do, the more you are, she might come and fight for you. Forgive you.

  She saw her mum’s reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Saw her looking the way she wished she had looked at her for years. Realised how all the tiny unresolved things between them, the unspoken thoughts, had piled on top of each other and the wedge had got bigger and bigger until Ella had eventually become Ella-and-Max and a complete stranger to this life. To the smells and the tastes. Even, she thought as she saw the gold star hang too heavy for the branch and the fibre optic angel wings glow, to the Christmas decorations. To the things that she had wanted to be hers but were so out of reach.

  She looked at her mum’s reflection again. Met her eyes in the mirror.

  All that time she’d wasted. All that effort.

  What was she thinking?

  ‘That if I forgive you,’ Ella said, turning to face her mum, ‘I will be letting down the me that sat on the bed thinking you hated me and spent hours willing you to come get me and sat on that rock on my own wanting you to find me. There’s too much. There’s too much there and–’ she shrugged. ‘I can’t work out whose fault it is.’

  ‘Does it have to be anyone’s fault?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ella said. ‘Yes because otherwise it’s all just been a waste of time.’

  What were the awards, the prizes, the small talk at flash dinners, the clothes, the polaroids, the flat, the car, the holidays, the hair, the everything – what was it all for?

  ‘Ella, you can’t control everything.’ her mum said, reaching forward to stack up the plates and clear the table.

  But where was she if she wasn’t in control? Who was she?

  CHAPTER 30

  MADDY

  Maddy watched as Veronica stalked back to the table. Her camel coat was draped casually over her arm, a light dusting of snow caught in the material, and she was pulling off matching tan kid gloves finger by finger.

  It felt to Maddy as if her and her dad were just beginning to get somewhere. The small talk was becoming bigger talk and her spine was beginning to curve back into the leather chair. She didn’t want Veronica to come back to the table, so when she turned to veer off in the direction of the Ladies’, Maddy couldn’t help but feel relieved.

  ‘So you got a boyfriend?’ her dad asked, scooping a forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth.

  Maddy shook her head.

  ‘No one?’ he asked, incredulous.

  ‘Uh uh.’

  ‘It’s because you’re too pretty. They’re intimidated.’ he said, cup of coffee in one hand, slice of toast in the other.

  Maddy laughed. ‘Yeah right.’

  He took a bite of the toast. ‘It’s true.’ he said, mouth full. ‘I could never ask a pretty girl out. I was terrified. Your mother had to make the first move.’

  Maddy’s smile paused on her face. She tore off a bit of croissant while her dad watched her and said, ‘She was a massive part of my life, Maddy. I do talk about her.’

  ‘Yeah, no I know.’ Maddy nibbled on the pastry, not really sure why she had thought her dad had wiped that part of his life out of his memory but still uneasy with the casual manner with which he talked about her mum. ‘Anyway. It’s all tourists at home and I’m never going to go out with one of them.’

  Her dad put down his cup in order to fork some more fluffy egg onto his piece of toast and said, ‘I bet they’re all running after you though.’

  ‘Nah.’ She shook her head. ‘Well some are but you know… I’m trying to focus on other stuff at the moment.’

  ‘So I hear.’ her dad nodded. ‘You want to do more with your singing. I remember when you used to sing when you were little. And you’d do those cute dances for us all dressed up.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not quite like that any more.’ Maddy felt herself blush at the memory of dressing up as Ginger Spice, a Union Jack flag wrapped a couple of times round her and Ella’s old Buffalo trainers stuffed with newspaper so they fit her feet. She’d wiggle around and dance like a maniac and have her parents in stitches.

  ‘Do you know actually who you should talk to about this–’ Her dad looked around the club.

  ‘Dad, don’t.’ Maddy shook her head. ‘I don’t want you to help me.’

  ‘No, no it’s not helping, at all. It’s just I–’ He stood up and searched the room. ‘I saw him come in… Rollo!’ he called over to a man sitting at a table by the bar. Dressed in a blue suit, with thick blond hair and a face that looked like it had been ravaged in too many rugby games, Rollo held up a hand in greeting. When her dad beckoned him over, he pushed back his chair and ambled across to their table.

  ‘Edward. Good to see you.’

  ‘Rollo, I want you to meet Maddy, my daughter.’

  Rollo turned Maddy’s way, his brows raised as if intrigued to meet her, and drawled, ‘Charmed,’ as he held a hand out for her to shake.

  Maddy sat
up a little straighter, felt her fingers get crushed in Rollo’s grip as she looked up at him, his shoulders so wide they were almost blocking out the light.

  ‘Maddy wants to get into the industry.’ her dad said, smiling proudly Maddy’s way. ‘She’s got a great little voice.’

  Maddy cringed.

  ‘You could talk to her, couldn’t you? Give her some advice, that kind of thing.’ her dad said, before shaking his head and adding, ‘She doesn’t want my help.’

  In the background the resident pianist started to play and Rollo looked over distracted. ‘Always the same bloody music. Why do they do it? It kills me.’

  ‘Oh I like it.’ Her dad closed his eyes for a second to listen while behind him Veronica appeared, sidling up to the table in a haze of Chanel No 5, her lipstick freshly applied. ‘I thought you hated the club, Rollo.’ she murmured.

  Rollo shrugged. ‘A man’s allowed to change his mind,’ he said, then reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to Maddy. ‘Meet me here later.’ he said, tapping the address on the card. ‘We’ll talk.’

  Maddy reached up and took it from him as he buttoned up his jacket, ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, ‘Right, I have to go. People to see and all that. Veronica, always a pleasure. Ed, call me later. Maddy, see you around three-ish.’ With a quick salute he was stalking out the room, the fabric of his jacket straining over his shoulders, his head turned so that he could catch his reflection in the mirror by the door.

  ‘What was he doing here?’ Veronica asked, looking suspiciously at Maddy’s dad as she folded herself into her seat.

  ‘Having breakfast.’ Her dad laughed.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that.’ Maddy had to hold her hair up off her neck to cool down her blushing embarrassment.

  ‘What?’ her dad asked, mid-buttering another slice of toast. ‘He was here. You take advantage of situations, Maddy. That’s all. Go, meet him, have a chat. He’s found some great talent in his time. He’s got some big acts signed to his label. You have nothing to lose.’

  ‘She has a great little voice.’ Maddy mimicked her dad’s earlier comment, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Well you do? Or at least you did.’ he said with a smirk. ‘What did you want me to say?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Maddy shrugged. Felt the thick cream business card in her hand and couldn’t quite suppress a rush of excitement. ‘Do you really think he’ll be fine with talking to me? I don’t want him to do me any favours or anything but… Well.’ She bit her lip. ‘I mean, if he liked me, that wouldn’t be a lie would it?’

  Her dad shook his head. Smiling around his mouthful of toast.

  She could feel Veronica watching, silently, but didn’t look at her because she knew she would ruin the moment.

  ‘Ok. Yeah, I’ll meet him.’ Tucking the card into the pocket of her bag, she rolled her lips together to hold in a smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’ Her dad popped the last bit of scrambled egg in his mouth and laid his knife and fork down, ‘He was here. That’s all. It was an opportunity too good to pass up.’

  ‘Well, thanks.’ Maddy nodded, a thrum of excitement about the afternoon coursing through her.

  ‘No problem. Here…’ her dad said, chucking over a clean napkin that Veronica hadn’t used. ‘Put this in your bag while no one’s looking. You can’t come to The Ivy without a souvenir.’ With a wink he leant back and crossed his arms, grinning, relaxed, looking suddenly like he did all those years ago.

  CHAPTER 31

  ELLA

  In the morning Ella’s bag was packed in minutes. Just as it had been when she left. Flung open and outfits from the wardrobe bundled together and rammed inside. She’d slicked her hair back in a side-parting low ponytail and donned black chinos and a black polo neck. She looked in the mirror and described her reflection as hard, maybe brittle. Then she thought back to her physics GCSE – Brittle: liable to break easily.

  Hauling her case off her bed, she wheeled it to the door and then leaving it where it was grabbed her purse and an umbrella and stalked out into the rain to the phone box.

  ‘What do you mean there are no ferries? This has been all week practically.’ she said, trying to keep her voice even.

  ‘I’m sorry madam. There’s nothing because of the storms.’ The travel operator sounded bored, like he’d explained this to a hundred people already that morning.

  ‘Well how the hell do I get off this island?’ She wiped some condensation off the glass in the phone box, looking out to sea at where her mobile was lying somewhere amongst the seaweed.

  ‘You could make friends with someone with a helicopter.’

  ‘Was that a joke?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  Ella made a face at the receiver. ‘Well I don’t find it very funny.’

  ‘No, madam.’

  ‘So when are the ferries going to run again?’ she asked, noticing Dimitri’s bike pull up outside the taverna and watching as he wiped the rain off the visor of his helmet.

  ‘We can’t say, madam. When the sea is better.’

  Ella huffed.

  ‘Call back tomorrow.’ the guy added with a sigh and hung up.

  She was stuck.

  The rain pummelled the glass of the phone box as she stood in what now seemed inappropriately smart clothing. Dimitri ran past her with his bike helmet in one hand, head down, leather jacket soaked. She could barely look at him because he said he fancied her. It felt like a joke, something to help mend relations with her and her mum. A little something to sweeten the deal, she told herself. He would be expecting happy families inside the taverna. All made up, all fears conquered.

  As she thought about it though the anger was still there. Still sitting like a balloon that wouldn’t burst. She couldn’t back down. Couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t just whitewash those years and walk in and let her mum be her mum.

  But she was trapped. There was no way off the island.

  Scrabbling around in her purse she found another couple of euros and dialled her dad.

  ‘Ella! Honey. How are you doing?’ His voice made her instantly calmer. She slumped against the phone box door.

  ‘I’m ok. You know–’

  ‘You’ll never guess who I’ve just had breakfast with.’ he said, cutting her off, his voice the most animated she’d heard it in years. ‘Maddy.’ he carried on without letting her guess.

  The name was like a slap.

  Ella sucked her bottom lip in and bit down.

  ‘Isn’t that amazing? We just bumped into each other. She’s working at Big Mack’s, that dreadful place in Soho. God knows how her mum can be happy with her working there. But anyway, it was brilliant. I took her to The Ivy, we had brunch. And Veronica was there. I think it was ok, Ella. I think they got on ok.’

  Ella had to swallow away a lump in her throat that was just petty jealousy. How was Maddy in London having a great time with their dad? Where was her comeuppance? How could she have been a brat for fifteen years and it just be forgotten over Burford Brown eggs at The Ivy?

  Maddy had cut their dad off and he could forgive her in seconds. Yet Ella was packed and ready to leave the moment their mum talked with any honesty about the past. She glanced back through the misted window at the taverna. At the painted sign on the wall. The Little Greek Kitchen. At the strings of fairy lights that her mum had obviously strung up last night all around the door, like glittering rain. And at all the olive trees that had red baubles now hanging from their branches and the wreaths of pine hanging on the loo doors. All the little windows had been sprayed with frosted snow and the nativity moved to a table by the doorway with a pot of what she presumed was vin chaud next to it and a stack of mugs. Overnight the place had been Christmas-ified. Ella looked at the date on her watch, surprised to see that there were only three days to go.

  ‘It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had, Els. Just–’ She heard him take a deep breath, wondered for
a second whether he was going to cry. She pictured him at his desk, his PA glancing through the glass door to his office to see him patting his cheek with a handkerchief. ‘I just never thought I would feel so god damn delighted to have breakfast with my daughter and my wife.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ Ella said, trying not to let the words stick in her throat.

  ‘All I need now is you back and maybe we can all go out. I’m sorry about Max,’ he added.

  ‘It’s fine.’ She waved a hand. ‘Almost a relief.’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘Come on, Els, I know you, don’t be all poker faced about it. Have a good cry. If I remember your mum gives very good hugs.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Ella did a kind of laugh that she hoped would gloss over everything.

  ‘Ella?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘God yeah, I’m fine. Don’t be daft. I was ringing to check you were fine. Not feeling like you and Veronica were going to be all alone at Christmas. But you’ve got Maddy so all’s good. Is it snowing?’

  ‘Buckets of the stuff. Can’t go anywhere. And of course the trains are buggered, as always. I’m sorry I won’t be seeing you this year.’

  ‘One year off is ok.’ She looked down and picked some of the fluff off her jumper, feeling herself start to get too emotional.

  ‘It’ll never be ok, Ella.’ he said and she could hear him smile.

  She sniffed back the possibility of tears and shut her eyes for a moment, then said, ‘Well I’d better go. No more euros. Happy Christmas, Dad.’

  ‘You too, sweetheart.’

  When she hung up Ella had to put her face in her hands for almost a minute. When she looked up her granny and granddad were walking past in their Peter Storm jackets and a huge golfing umbrella. Her granny tapped on the glass.

  ‘Everything all right, darling?’

  Ella opened the door a crack, hoping her mascara hadn’t run at all. ‘Oh fine, fine. Just work stuff.’

  ‘They work you too hard. It’s nearly Christmas.’ her grandfather called out from underneath the massive brolly.