by Sue Watson
‘You need to decide what you really want, madam,’ was all Tamsin said, from behind me.
I knew exactly what I wanted – at last. I’d stupidly rejected the only man I could finally trust with my bruised and battered heart and it was now up to me to win him back.
I suddenly ran for the door, whipping it open and sprinting into the early morning blanket of snow. ‘Richard,’ I heard myself calling after him. ‘Perhaps we could get together again?’
‘Yes I’d like that,’ he called back, turning around and stamping his feet on the ground to keep them warm.
I had run outside without a coat and was shivering with cold. ‘Okay, great. When?’ I wasn’t playing games any more, I was going to hand him my heart as he had his.
‘I... I’m sorry, I’m working late this week, then it’s Carole’s Christmas party at work... she’s asked me to be her plus one.’
I was shocked. ‘Carole?’ His ex? Ella’s mom? Who he was still technically married to!
‘Yeah... her boyfriend dumped her... she needs an escort and muggins here offered,’ he laughed nervously.
Ah, it was all beginning to make horrible sense now. He wasn’t playing hard to get – he was going back to his wife. I felt such a fool.
‘Oh great. It’s good that you two are... it’s good for Ella.’
He walked back towards me, his voice lowering as he came nearer. ‘Yeah it’s been difficult for all of us and…’
‘Yes... yes, of course,’ I bumbled. Like a moron. I didn’t want to hear all about their love-in and turned to go back inside feeling like an idiot.
‘Yeah... but you and I should get together soon,’ he was walking away, raising his finger on the ‘soon’, like he was talking to a mate about a casual drink in the pub.
‘Yep,’ was all I could manage before running into the shop to sob on Tamsin’s shoulder just like I did when I was a little girl.
‘Talk about bad timing,’ I sobbed. ‘Stupid Sam spends almost a year with someone, dumps him and then finally falls hard the day after he decides to give his marriage another go.’
‘Oh love, it’s one thing after the other at the moment, isn’t it?’ she sighed.
‘I wouldn’t mind, but I slept with him last night... he might have mentioned his plans before we ripped each other’s clothes off. I didn’t think he was like that – I thought Richard was special, I thought he cared about me.
Tamsin wiped my tears and brushed my hair back from my face. ‘If it’s meant to be – it will happen,’ she said wisely. ‘I blame this snow – it’s turning everyone’s heads... it’s like we’ve all gone mad.’
24
A Breakfast Meeting and a Red Hot Date
Tamsin
I felt terrible - like I’d destroyed everything Sam had worked for and it was now up to me to give my sister back her dream. But with no ovens and no money there was little I could do – yet I couldn’t bring myself to call our customers and cancel their orders. Something inside was telling me not to close the door on The White Angel Bakery’ yet and I was damned if I was going to throw it all away without at least trying to resurrect something. Sam seemed to lack the energy and drive to even engage in a conversation about starting again and I was worried the depression she’d had after Steve was returning. She was permanently pale and tired and I was worried about her, but being Sam she just carried on saying she was fine.
I had a plan - made some calls and arranged to meet Heddon, Hall and Gabe at a nearby cafe for breakfast, and once I had my team assembled I made my announcement.
‘I want to re-open the bakery before Christmas. I intend to honour the orders, re-open the bakery and restore my sister’s faith in me – and herself,’ I added.
‘Absolutely, mon chérie,’ Hall said. ‘But aren’t we being a soupcon ambitious, after all, my love... you don’t have long and the bakery is a blackened shell.’
‘No we don’t have long,’ I sighed. ‘We need to act immediately, which is where you guys, “Tamsin’s Angels” come in.’
Heddon giggled and they all looked at me, Gabe even put his knife and fork down for a second. He took a long drink of orange juice and his lips were wet. I had to avert my eyes.
‘I want to clean up and transform the bakery – using all the Christmas stuff at my house we can recreate the winter wonderland I was planning for The Rectory – in the bakery,’ I said.
‘Do you mean a makeover like on the telly? Covering Sam’s eyes and saying “you can open them now”,’ Gabe asked.
‘No,’ I said. ‘The last thing my sister needs is some MDF-constructed nightmare and bloody Alan Titchmarsh appearing from behind the hedge, shouting “I bet you didn’t expect me to pop up from your petunias did you?”’
‘No class, darling,’ Heddon and Hall nodded in agreement.
The boys were only too willing to help and Heddon and Hall wrote me a cheque there and then for a loan to buy a new oven. I wept with gratitude and we arranged for them all to turn up the following morning and start work.
Gabe dropped me home in his truck and I mentioned that I had been invited to Mimi’s party that evening.
‘Are you going? You know Mimi, don’t you?’ I asked, provocatively.
‘Yeah I know Mimi – I did her trellis.’
‘Mmm, so I heard. I wonder if you’d care to be my plus one?’ I heard myself ask.
‘Yeah... I’ll come along,’ he said. ‘Pick you up about 8?’
So, not only was I going to Mimi’s party, I was taking a ‘plus one’. I felt nervous and excited and happy all at the same time. If I was going to move forward and move on from my life with Simon, an evening with Gabe would certainly be a push in the right direction. I was beginning to feel like the old Tamsin, but this time I was stronger and more independent, not relying on my husband for money or feelings of self-worth.
‘I’ll see you later,’ I said, kissing him on the cheek. I couldn’t wait.
25
Life-size Reindeer and Christmas Carnage
Sam
Tamsin had decided to take up Mimi’s party invite. And being Tamsin she couldn’t just get dressed and go – there would be hours of ‘hair and make-up’ and parades of various gowns plundered from the bin bags lying around the flat.
‘My hairdresser Debbie is coming over – she says since I’ve spent thousands with her over the years she’ll do it gratis until I get myself together,’ she said, pouting into a hand mirror.
I was pleased for Tamsin. She was finally getting her life back, albeit quite a different one. It was little things like getting her hair done for a party that mattered to her and a good looking guy as her escort was just the boost she needed.
‘Oh by the way,’ she called from the bathroom. ‘Debbie said she’ll do yours ... and Jacob’s hair too, if you would both like a trim?’
Mmmm. She’d said this when she was out of the room, because Jacob’s hair was a touchy subject. I wish she’d leave things alone and stop bloody interfering, I thought. Debbie the hairdresser wasn’t just about Mimi’s party hair – she was about Tamsin trying to get her own way – again. ‘No, thank you,’ I called, but she’d gone, or was pretending she hadn’t heard me. I knew my sister, and if I didn’t address this she’d carry on and have us both with a short back and sides by this time tomorrow night, so I went to the bathroom. I could hear the taps running – she was washing her hair in preparation for Debbie – and I just went straight in.
‘Oh you shouldn’t just walk in on someone’s bathroom...’ she started.
‘No and you shouldn’t just walk in on someone’s life,’ I replied. ‘I know what you’re up to – you think you can turn Jacob into Little Lord Fauntleroy while nobody’s looking. You think you can convince him to have his hair cut while I’m busy downstairs and before we know it he’s looking like something from the bloody 1940s. Why don’t you take him to church while you’re at it? That’s something else I don’t want him to do – religion – but obviously I’m only his mothe
r – as his auntie you have the final say.’
‘No I don’t.’
‘No. You don’t, Tamsin... so why are you trying to get your own way? We have had this conversation – he DOESN’T WANT his hair cutting. He loves it long, like his dad used to wear it.’
She was shaking her head in a very annoying ‘know-it-all’ way I thought she’d dropped.
‘He wants his hair short like the other boys. He’s fed up of being called a girl and gay and...’
‘There’s nothing wrong with being gay...’
‘I’m not saying there is, and there’s nothing wrong with being different... but I told you before, at his age he doesn’t want to be different.’
‘Are you trying to tell me you know my son better than I do?’ I was so angry now. ‘Let’s ask him shall we, Tamsin? You aren’t listening to me, so perhaps you’ll listen to Jacob when he tells you he is happy with his hair long,’ I shouted, going into the living room to find my son.
‘Jacob, Jacob, auntie Tam and I want to ask you something,’ I called, trying to fade the volume and aggression from my voice, but not succeeding. I found him watching TV, apparently oblivious to the drama unfolding around him. ‘Jacob – would you like a lady to come here and cut all your hair off,’ I asked, trying to make it sound as bad as possible. I waited for the complete and total rejection of this ridiculous idea, followed by my absolute final warning to Tamsin about keeping out of our lives. But to my deep disappointment, his little face lit up.
‘Can the lady give me hair like Toby?’
‘What’s Toby’s like?’ I asked, knowing he had never heard of them but willing him to say ‘Bon Jovi circa 1973’. But of course the answer he gave me was ‘short’.
He must have seen my face drop and looked at me like he was trying to figure things out.
‘Mum... if Daddy sees, will he be upset if I have my hair cut?’
His question ripped at my heart.
‘Oh sweetie no – of course he won’t. He’ll be happy if you’re happy, darling.’
He smiled, satisfied with that, then looked at me again this time with worry in his eyes. ‘Mummy, will you cry?’
I reassured him again. I felt like a terrible mother – Tamsin had been right and I hadn’t even seen it. I’d been letting Jacob struggle and get picked on – I’d been projecting my own feelings of loss onto Jacob without even realising. Jacob was so young when Steve died he’d only seen him in photos and wouldn’t remember his Dad’s hair.
‘Okay sweetie – let’s get the lady to cut your hair then?’
‘Yay,’ he said and clapped his pudgy little hands together.
I walked onto the landing and banged on the door. ‘I guess you know my son better than I do,’ I said loudly and stomped downstairs, wondering if, at 36, it was perhaps time to get my own long hair cut when Debbie arrived.
A little later Tamsin came down with her hair in a towel turban, full lipstick on tight lips and an obstinate swish in her walk. Joan Crawford couldn’t have done a better entrance.
‘I won’t ask Debbie to cut his hair if you don’t want it doing,’ she said, tentatively. I was surprised at this, she usually railroaded over me – perhaps this life change had taught her some tact?
‘It’s fine. You’re right, it’s what he wants. It was me who wanted him to keep it long – like his dad. He can be “different” when he’s older... if that’s what he wants.’
‘And if he doesn’t you can make him be “different”,’ she giggled. ‘That’s a joke,’ she added.
‘I get it – you controlling bitch... that’s a joke too,’ I grimaced.
I’d always been keen to point out how bossy and controlling Tamsin was – and there was me trying to keep my son’s hair long, because I wanted it like that. Perhaps the Angel sisters weren’t that different after all?
* * *
Once Debbie had given us all a trim – yes I succumbed to Debbie’s scissors too – Jacob seemed to light up. He loved his new hair and couldn’t wait to go to school on Monday and show his friends.
I watched Jacob admiring his new cut in the mirror; ‘Please don’t say ‘I told you so,’ I murmured to Tamsin.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she sighed, studying her fake, wine-coloured nails studded with ‘an occasional diamond’, as she put it. She couldn’t afford a manicurist and had spent all afternoon doing them herself.
‘It’s as well we don’t have a business, because I’d have been serving on my own all day today, while you breakfasted with friends and did your nails,’ I said. ‘And you certainly couldn’t bake with those on... do they come off?’ I asked.
‘For God’s sake, Sam, that’s like asking “does your leg come off?” Of course they don’t, they might be fake but they’re glued fast. Have you never worn fake nails?’
‘No... why would I? That’s like asking me if I’ve ever worn a fake leg, I have my own.’
She rolled her eyes and flounced off to get dressed. I could tell she was excited – but she was nervous too. Tonight she’d be stepping back into her old life for a guest appearance and I wondered if she was ready.
‘I’m taking Gabe,’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘I want us to be the stylish and surprise couple at the party. Fasten your seatbelts it’s going to be a bumpy night,’ she hissed, in her best Bette Davis. I just hoped Mimi had the stairs to justify her entrance.
Earlier, Heddon and Hall had arrived in a flurry of white sparkle and cashmere and deposited the whole of Tamsin’s lost Christmas in the back of the shop. I was climbing over bin bags in my bedroom and a life-size reindeer on the landing (I told her we didn’t have the room but she’d conveniently forgotten).
‘There’s nowhere else to put everything,’ she’d said as Debbie tugged hard at her shiny black bob. I’d reminded her that in January we had to leave. ‘If you bring any more stuff into this tiny flat I will invite Channel 4 to make a documentary about it, “My sister the hoarder”.’
‘Yes, my love,’ she said, ‘after Channel 5 have made “My sister the bar room dancer”,’ she smiled sweetly. I wasn’t going to live that one down.
Leaving me to live with her Christmas carnage was so typical of Tamsin. She was used to having people to tidy up and finish off, and after I waved her off I sat amid the white snowflakes and reindeers piled up in the corner feeling alone.
Seeing Gabe collect Tamsin and tell her she looked gorgeous then watching them go off arm in arm had been a painful reminder of Richard’s absence. I imagined him at home with Carole, mistletoe hanging, eyes meeting, rediscovering each other after and falling in love all over again after their time apart. It was my own fault – I left it too late and he wasn’t hanging around for Miss No Commitment. I made a cup of tea, watched X Factor, had a little cry and felt slightly better.
* * *
Later I wandered down to the ruins of my business and looked out of the window onto the square. It was dark, just a few fairy lights in the trees and the scattering of confetti-like snow coming down again, it was relentless this year. I gazed for a long time at the white landscape outside, the snow getting deeper, another layer of the white blanket of silence descending over everything. So much had happened recently I could barely take it in and having lost my business and the man I loved my heart felt almost too heavy to carry. I hoped Tamsin would enjoy herself at the party – perhaps if my sister got her life back on track it would be good for both of us. I’d realised since she came to live with me that our lives were entwined and if she wasn’t happy, then neither was I – and I knew it was the same for her. I went back upstairs to check on Jacob, hoping the Angel sisters would one day be able to find happiness at the same time.
26
Low Flying Louboutins and Sex in the Snow
Tamsin
Mimi’s party was amazing. Gabe drove us there and we arrived to the kind of sparkly Christmas event I would have been proud to stage. Of course, I wouldn’t have gone with the colour scheme, which was a dodgy purple, but a
part from that I had to give it to Mimi – she could host a party.
I climbed from the truck and walked with Gabe down the winter pathway which led to the main front steps. As we walked together in silence, hearing only the sound of Herald Angels, I turned and looked at him.
‘I’m a bit nervous, Gabe,’ I confessed.
He stopped in the darkness, a halo of fairy lights all around him and he took my breath away. He looked like an angel with his mid-length hair and piercing blue eyes and his smile was beatific – I reached out and touched him to see if he was real and for a moment our eyes locked. Then he took my hand, kissed it gently, and led me up the garden path to Mimi’s Musical Extravaganza.
Once inside, my heart leapt at the sight of the magnificent tree. Forest green pine dressed in vibrant, shiny purple stood proud in the centre of the room (though I would probably have put it in the hallway – a little brash to have the tree in the living quarters). The staircase swept forever, a huge swirling mass of every shade of purple from deepest violet to the lightest lavender swirled around the banisters and swept into the room with the stairs. Magical!
Mimi greeted us excitedly – dressed in a figure-hugging glitzy purple number many would have avoided with her ginger hair and skin tone, but she rocked it.
‘Oh Tamsin, how good of you to come – you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,’ she beamed. She seemed genuinely delighted to have me there, and when I peered round to see if Anouska or Phaedra had arrived, she seemed to know what I was thinking.
‘They aren’t coming,’ she said. ‘They never do. None of the ladies from Chantray Lane ever come to my parties or coffee mornings. That’s why I’m so touched you did.’ Her effervescence seemed to disappear momentarily and she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
