Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by Abby Clements

  ‘Yes. Sorry,’ she said, filling her lungs with air and regaining her composure, waving a hand by her face to cool her red-hot cheeks. ‘Really not used to rum,’ she said, laughing nervously. Jay’s face was just inches away from hers and she could feel the heat of his body. He gave her another concerned glance to check she’d really recovered.

  I’ve been out of the game far too long, she thought, as Jay returned to his seat. I’m so naïve.

  Jay was the one who finally broke the silence. ‘Powerful stuff, this,’ he said, raising the bottle with a smile. ‘Anyway,’ he said, as if he wanted to draw a line under their previous conversation. ‘Finding her was the easy part, as it turns out. It was difficult to make things work. It’s not going to happen, I know that. I’ve known that for weeks.’

  Weeks. Rachel let the word sink in. Weeks – that definitely ruled her out. And – breathe. Her smile slowly returned.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘The way she acted when we were together – we had a few dates in the summer. But it didn’t work out.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I didn’t want to be second on her list.’

  ‘Second? What was first?’

  ‘Her work. Which I respect … I mean, I’ve always liked that she’s so passionate about what she does. But what I realised is I want a relationship with her – the whole deal, nights out, nights in, good moods, bad moods, holidays together. I don’t just want a date here and there, when she’s got a free evening and things are quiet at work.’

  ‘Fair enough. Maybe with time …’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jay said, ‘but she made her feelings pretty clear, and I need to move on. We’d probably drive each other nuts anyway. She’s not exactly the easiest of women,’ he smiled. ‘But she’s also pretty hard to forget. She makes me laugh, she’s got this drive … and I don’t know. She’s addictive.’ He shook his head with a wry smile. ‘The thing is we’re friends too, or at least we used to be. More than anything, I really miss her.’

  Rachel smiled sympathetically.

  ‘I know.’ He laughed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. ‘It’s maddening. But we used to hang out. Talk to each other about stuff. No one else even comes close.’

  ‘If I’m guessing right here, there aren’t many women like her,’ Rachel said, thinking of her oldest friend.

  The kitchen door swung open and hit the wall with a thud.

  ‘Hey,’ Siobhan called out, stumbling tipsily into the room, Mr Ripley clutched to her chest so tightly he was emitting sharp miaows of protest. ‘What’s going on with the bar, eh?’ she smiled. ‘Mr Ripley’s come looking for his rum.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Rachel said to Jay as they said their goodbyes at the end of the night. She’d finally convinced Siobhan that they should go upstairs to their beds, rather than polishing off the rest of the bottle. She had one arm around her now, and Siobhan was singing ‘Santa Baby’ softly into her shoulder. ‘Tonight was just what I needed. To let loose for once. I really enjoyed it.’

  ‘Any time,’ Jay said, leaning in to give her a friendly good-night kiss on the cheek. It felt really good to click with people she’d only just met. ‘And now,’ Rachel said, with a nod to Siobhan, ‘it really is time for bed.’

  CHAPTER 13

  Tuesday 5th December

  Laurie’s gap-week project wasn’t getting off to a very promising start.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice echoing off the bare floorboards of Skipley Community Centre and up to the rafters, hung with gold tinsel and decorations. In front of her about a dozen women, aged between forty and seventy, were sitting down around tables heaped high with clothing. The hum of conversation had stopped and they all stared back at Laurie in silence. In a red dress and high heels, Laurie realised instantly that she was seriously overdressed.

  After what felt like an eternity, a dark-haired woman in a fuchsia poloneck and a tweed skirt put down the coat she was holding and took a step towards Laurie.

  ‘Can we help you?’ she asked, her voice strained. I want to disappear, Laurie thought, her heart sinking to the soles of her shoes. Why had she thought it was a good idea to come?

  She gathered her strength. ‘I saw the advert in the paper,’ she said, her voice booming out again a bit more than she’d intended it to. ‘For volunteers?’ She floundered around for something else to say. ‘I think I can help you,’ she said. ‘I’m a fashion designer.’

  ‘Oh, are you?’ a lady with a steel-grey bob asked icily, looking Laurie up and down. The woman had a too-big navy body warmer on over her yellow sweater.

  Laurie was rapidly developing a new respect for Rachel, surviving in Skipley. The locals at the farmers’ market had seemed friendly, but this lot – well, they were less like the Calendar Girls – more like military boot camp.

  ‘Yes,’ Laurie said, then, in a last, desperate bid to give herself some kind of authority, ‘in London.’

  That was when she spotted Diana at the back of the room. The icing on the cake. Laurie sighed. Diana stood up and Laurie locked eyes with her.

  ‘Well, come and sit down then,’ Diana said, brusquely. ‘And let’s get you to work. One of the ladies will show you the ropes. Joyce?’

  Ten minutes later, Laurie was sitting down bagging up old clothes, surrounded by black plastic sacks. When she was attempting to paint the kitchen that morning, with some spray paint she’d found out in the shed, she’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse. Instead of covering the burn marks, like she’d hoped it would, she’d only dulled the black to grey, and created even more of a mess in the process. But as she stuffed old clothes into bin bags she realised she’d reached a whole new low.

  Joyce, the eldest lady there, with cropped, grey hair and pink cheeks, turned to talk to Laurie. ‘We’ve been collecting clothes donations since September, and now we’re sending all the good quality coats to Winter Warmers, a local charity,’ Joyce explained, holding up a red puffa jacket. ‘They then distribute the warm clothing through the homeless shelters in Leeds.’

  ‘Anything that’s torn, stained or unsuitable gets put aside. You can help sort that out today. We store those clothes out in the back cupboard,’ she’d said, ‘and then when we have enough we sell them off to the rag man.’ Laurie’s spirits sank lower. Diana had made sure she’d have the worst job, out of spite, she was certain.

  Interested in fashion, the ad had said, hadn’t it? If this wasn’t a charity, Laurie would have been tempted to sue them for false advertising.

  As she bagged up old sweatshirts and ripped jeans that weren’t good enough to send on, she listened as the women gossiped about a Christmas barn dance. (A barn dance? Laurie thought to herself, just when she’d thought Skipley couldn’t get any further from a decent cultural scene.)

  When Laurie had filled three bags a yawn slipped out. ‘Who’s for a cuppa?’ she asked.

  She’d half-expected a frosty response, but instead quite a few of the women looked as if she’d just made their day.

  ‘Café’s open,’ Laurie announced from the kitchen and one by one the ladies got up off their chairs and walked over. She’d made a big red teapot of tea, and laid out slices of the carrot cake that she’d bought at the bakery. She poured out the tea, then passed the mugs round into the ladies’ grateful hands. As she picked up her own, she spotted a little radio in the corner of the kitchen. She reached over and fiddled with the knob, trying to make sense of the non-digital settings.

  ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ crackled into life, and she noticed Joyce start to tap her feet as she sipped from her tea. ‘I always rather liked this one,’ she said, ignoring Diana’s disapproving glare. Pam, the lady in fuchsia, started to hum along through a mouthful of cake.

  They left the radio on as they worked. A couple of hours in, Laurie got what she could only assume was a promotion: sorting the decent coats and woolly jumpers into men’s and women’s.

  ‘Have you just moved here, then?’ Joyce asked her, qui
te softly, while the others were engaged in a chat about Strictly Come Dancing. Laurie shook her head. ‘I’m just here for a break. I’m staying at my friend Rachel’s house.’

  ‘Rachel …’ Joyce looked like she was searching for the face to put to the name. ‘Oh yes, Bea’s daughter-in-law. Sweet girl. Nice kids.’ Joyce smiled. ‘Now Bea, there’s a woman for you. Heart of gold, Bea’s got. She’d be here now, if she hadn’t been taken ill. Awful worry, that, we’ve all been thinking about her.’

  ‘Rachel and her family are staying in my place in London, so they can look in on her,’ Laurie said. She felt a pang of homesickness as she thought of Goldhawk Mansions, her flat, Siobhan.

  ‘Oh that’s good, isn’t it?’ Joyce said, then added, ‘It’s nearly four. He’ll be here in a minute, the charity fella, to pick up the clothes. You put those black rag bags out the back, Laurie, and we’ll get this lot ready.’ Laurie got to her feet and picked up the black sacks, taking them out to a dusty storeroom.

  When she got back a car horn was tooting outside and the women were hurrying to do up the bags of winter woollies they’d been sorting.

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ Laurie said, with a smile, grabbing an armload of bags from Joyce and Pam, ignoring their protests. All in the spirit of Gap Week.

  Diana opened the heavy main door with her bags in one hand, and Laurie just managed to catch it before it slammed in her face. Diana walked ahead down the path to the waiting van, about ten metres away.

  The van’s back doors were open and Diana was bundling the bags in, laughing and joking with the male driver. Laurie walked towards them, but tripped and dropped one of the bags she was carrying, splitting it. The contents spilled out across the path. Laurie sighed, then put the remaining bags down and began to gather up the loose clothes. A woolly hat with a snowflake pattern and a navy coat lay on the path. As she reached down to pick up the coat, she spotted the van driver crouched in front of her, the snowflake hat perched on top of his – disarmingly attractive – head.

  ‘Can I have this one?’ he asked, a smile lighting up his face. He had dark-blond hair and stubble lined his jaw – in the winter sunshine his bright blue eyes shone out. There was no doubt about it. He was … totally, totally hot. A countryside Ryan Gosling. In a moment it dawned on Laurie – no wonder the ladies had been falling over each other to get to the door.

  ‘Sure, it’s yours,’ Laurie said. ‘But stealing from charity? That can’t be good for your karma, can it?’

  ‘Oh, I dunno,’ he said, taking the hat in one hand and scooping up Laurie’s bags in the other. ‘It’s not stealing, as such. I’ve given them quite a lot of my time – I reckon we could negotiate something.’ She walked with him over to the van. Diana was standing there, glaring at Laurie, the man chucked the clothes into the back. He turned back to face Laurie, and then glanced over at Diana, looking for an introduction.

  ‘Patrick,’ Diana said hesitantly, then waved her hand over to Laurie, ‘meet Laurie.’ It was as if it pained her to say it.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Patrick said, shaking Laurie’s hand. She felt a shiver of excitement as his warm skin touched hers. Was that a sort of fizzle she was feeling? How ridiculous, Laurie reprimanded herself, pulling her hand away. This guy wasn’t her type at all. He looked younger than her, and she never, ever went for younger men. She preferred dark hair too. And tall guys, like – she stopped herself. She couldn’t compare every man she met to Jay.

  Her eyes drifted down – even under a wool jumper she could see that his body was taut and toned, and his jeans hung really quite well on him.

  Diana had slunk off back to the church hall, leaving Patrick and Laurie staring in mute silence at one another.

  ‘Good to meet you too,’ Laurie said, dragging her eyes back up to meet his.

  ‘I hope it won’t be the last time,’ he said, with a captivating smile. ‘Are you going to be volunteering here regularly? The run-up to Christmas is our busiest time.’

  If someone had told Laurie three hours ago that she’d be contemplating spending any more of her precious time with the women in the community centre, she’d never have believed it. And yet, over the last couple of hours the women had seemed to soften, at least a little. Joyce even seemed quite, well, nice. And no one ever said Gap Week was going to be easy.

  ‘I’ll be here, yes,’ Laurie said, feeling the wintry chill and pulling down the sleeves on her cardigan so her hands were covered. She hadn’t thought to grab her coat before stepping out.

  ‘Well,’ Patrick said, ‘I’ll see you again then.’ He reached into the back of the van and took another hat from a bag in there. ‘And I think you should have this one, to keep you warm in the meantime.’ He put a fluffy koala hat, with a big woolly black nose and grey flaps that covered her ears, on her head.

  Laurie frowned. She was not – absolutely not – an animal hat kind of girl. Faux-mink, maybe. But Primarkknitted koala? Never. Wearing a hat like this was something Laurie wouldn’t abide. Yet she didn’t take if off.

  She stood dumbly, hat in place, as Patrick got back into the van and started the engine. With just a brief backward glance and a smile, he drove away down the country lane.

  When she got back inside the community centre, koala hat in hand, the women were huddled around the doorway. They had clearly been watching every second through the window.

  ‘So, Patrick,’ Pam said, giving Laurie a nudge. ‘Pretty easy on the eye, isn’t he?’

  ‘Nothing special,’ Laurie shrugged, tossing the hat into a pile of unsorted items. She swung around to see everyone smiling at her. ‘So you can all stop looking at me like that.’

  CHAPTER 14

  Wednesday 6th December

  ‘I’ve just heard from the hospital,’ Aiden said.

  ‘OK,’ Rachel said, taking a breath. ‘Let’s sit down.’

  They went together into the living room and Rachel closed the door behind them. They sat on the sofa in silence.

  Slowly, Aiden put his phone down on the coffee table and took Rachel’s hand in his. ‘Right,’ he said, taking a deep breath.

  ‘Right …?’ Rachel said.

  ‘Sorry, it’s just sinking in,’ Aiden said, shaking his head. ‘What Dr Patel said. I’m not sure I understand everything, but here goes. The mass she talked about is a tumour, in Mum’s inner ear, near her brain.’

  The word tumour hung in the air. Rachel willed him to continue.

  ‘But the biopsy showed it’s benign – it’s not cancerous. It’s something called acoustic neu … something. Neuroma. Like she predicted, it’s what’s been causing all of Mum’s symptoms.’

  ‘So it’s definitely not cancer?’ Rachel asked nervously.

  ‘Yes,’ Aiden said, taking her hand. ‘So obviously that’s good news. But it’s not the end of the story,’ he went on. ‘They’ve explained the situation to Mum. As she’s older, and the tumour is likely to grow slowly, they could leave it, wait and see what happens. But then she’d be stuck with the symptoms, they won’t get better on their own. The only way to get rid of the dizziness she’s been feeling is to operate. Dr Patel says the tumour is in an accessible place, and they should be able to get it all out in one operation. That’s what Mum wants to do.’

  ‘OK,’ Rachel said, biting her lip. ‘Surgery? God. Poor Bea.’

  ‘I know,’ Aiden said. ‘It’s a big operation, six hours, and there would be a period of around two months when Mum’d have to rest. But apparently the outlook is good, and there’s no reason for the problem to come back.’

  ‘Right,’ Rachel said, as the facts sank in. Their worst fears hadn’t been realised. And if everything went well, Rachel thought, unconsciously crossing her fingers and wishing – they’d be able to go home and be there for Christmas. The kids would have their grandma back.

  The handle on the living-room door twisted and opened, and Milly appeared in the gap, peering through. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked. ‘Why are you two hiding in here?’

/>   ‘We’re not hiding, darling. Come in,’ Rachel said. ‘Actually, can you get Zak too? We’ve just had some news about your grandma.’

  ‘The operation’s today,’ Rachel said to Diana, pacing the living room, phone in her hand. ‘I wasn’t sure if Bea had already told you herself.’

  ‘No,’ Diana replied, sounding concerned. ‘Actually I haven’t heard from her at all since you left for London, so it’s been on my mind. I’d convinced myself it was going to be something minor, though.’

  ‘I know,’ Rachel said, ‘me too. I don’t think any of us had bargained on it being as serious as this. But there’s a lot to be thankful for – it’s not cancer. The doctors are optimistic about Bea’s recovery, so hopefully we’ll be back up in time to get things ready for Christmas.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Do give her my love, won’t you? I’ll send some flowers – something to cheer her up after the operation.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Diana. She’ll appreciate that.’ Rachel perched on the end of the L-shaped sofa. ‘So, how is everything going up there? Have you had a chance to meet Laurie yet?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, work has been really busy in the last couple of weeks. I have met Laurie, yes.’ Diana hesitated for a moment before carrying on. ‘From the look on her face I’d say it’s been a bit of a shock to the system, coming here. But I’m sure she’ll settle in.

  She even came down to the community centre today, to help out with the charity collection, so she’s certainly making an effort.’

  Rachel’s eyebrows went up in surprise. She tried to picture city-smart Laurie sitting with Diana and Bea’s friend Joyce, in the slightly shabby, basic community centre. The image brought a smile to her face.

  ‘She’s a bit of a funny one, though, isn’t she, Rachel? Turned up at the centre in a red dress that wouldn’t have been out of place on a catwalk, and stiletto heels. I mean there’s no need for that kind of attire in Skipley really, is there? And she’s … well. Not much of a dab hand in the kitchen by the looks of things, either. That’s all I’ll say. Very different from you, Rachel. I can’t see how you two came to be friends.’