The Best Little Christmas Shop

by Maxine Morrey

  He gave a little laugh. ‘Well you’re the one who inspired me, so I’m glad.’

  I frowned. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘When you say inspired, do you mean I was the only one who kept sticking my beak in?’

  Cal laughed harder this time. ‘No. That’s not what I mean.’

  My head thumped from crying and I was completely drained. I couldn’t even begin to have the energy to think about how I’d inspired Cal so I just took it at face value.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I’m going to make us some hot chocolate,’ Cal said, pushing himself up from the sofa. As I began to move too, he turned. ‘You stay there and rest.’

  I didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now.

  ‘I want to come with you.’

  Cal frowned momentarily, assessing. Without a word, he put out a hand and helped me off the sofa, not letting go until we’d reached the kitchen. ‘Here. Sit down.’

  Doing as instructed, I sat at the table and watched him move efficiently about the kitchen, grabbing mugs, grating chocolate, heating milk.

  ‘Wow. Proper hot chocolate,’ I said, letting my head slide down to rest on my arms on the table.

  ‘Certain circumstances demand it.’

  ‘And this is one of them?’

  ‘Yes. I think so,’ he replied definitely, his eyes flicking to me briefly before focusing back on the pan in front of him. Minutes later, two steaming mugs stood ready, and a plate full of mince pies sat next to it.

  ‘Have you been baking?’ I asked, looking with interest at the slightly misshapen treats.

  ‘Hmmm. George wanted to do some the other day so we had a go. I think he ate half the cake mix before it got anywhere near the tin and decided after one bite that he didn’t like mince pies after all. I misread the recipe as to how many it served so I’ve got bloody loads of the things. Feel free to have one. Or five.’

  I let out a giggle and some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. I snagged a pie and bit in. ‘These are lovely!’

  He grinned. ‘You really don’t have to eat them.’

  ‘No, seriously. They’re good!.’

  I caught the little smile of what might have been shy pride before he bent and threaded his fingers through the handles of the mugs. ‘Let’s take these into the snug. It won’t take long to build the fire back up in the there, and it’ll be warmer.’

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘No. But you’re shivering.’

  I realised I was, although I didn’t feel it. ‘Come on. I’ll take these.’

  I followed him through and a few minutes later I was sat on the cosy sofa, a blanket over me and fire crackling gently in the grate, warming up the already snug room. Silently, we sipped our drinks and I felt the soothing heat from it spread inside me.

  Neither of us spoke as we drank but the room and the company were soothing. Gradually the tension began to release from my body, with the drink and pastries helping to settle my insides and sugar levels.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, facing Cal as I sat round a little on the sofa.

  ‘You’re very welcome. I’m glad you were here and I could help.’

  ‘I don’t normally go to pieces like that.’

  ‘You didn’t go to pieces.’ His hand went to mine and I let it.

  ‘I don’t know if getting a phone call or seeing it happen in the moment is the worse option.’

  ‘I don’t suppose either is easy.’ Cal’s hand tightened for a moment.

  ‘I know you watch Formula One. Did you see the race where Marco had his big accident?’

  Cal nodded. ‘I did. He was lucky to come away from that, I think.’

  ‘He was,’ I said, my voice breaking and tears threatening once again, emotions I’d been working to keep in check having free rein after the shock of earlier. The memories of that day at the track, and later the hurt on Marco’s face when I’d told him I was leaving, and the knowledge of exactly what it was I was pushing away right now were all colliding in my head.

  Cal was right. Marco had been extremely lucky that day. The memory of it still brought a chill to my spine. Sat in the pit garage, we’d all watched in mute shock as a clip with another car had sent Marco careering off the track at speed, a freak chance causing the car to flip in almost every direction, finally stopping when it hit a crane that had been positioned to remove another car that had come off earlier at the same point.

  The sudden impact caused Marco’s car to halt its progress with such suddenness, it had literally dropped to the ground like a stone. A silence like I had never known – and hoped never to again – had descended over the paddock. We all knew that despite the incredible steps forward made in the racing industry in terms of safety, it could still be a highly dangerous sport. You couldn’t hope to account for every single possibility. There was always that chance. That freak moment.

  Everyone had just stared at the screen, hoping for the best and fearing, almost knowing, the worst. Nobody came to a halt that suddenly, that violently, and survived. At least, not intact. It had happened once before and ended in tragedy. In that moment, the world was watching and wondering how it could have happened again. I’d gone out the back of the garage, thrown up, and sat hugging my knees, waiting for news. Wanting it, but at the same time, not wanting to know.

  To the shock of everyone who’d witnessed it, Marco survived the crash. Bruised and out for several races, he defied the odds and although not literally at the time, he had walked away. When I’d first seen him in the hospital, I hadn’t known whether to hug him or punch him for scaring the life out of me so completely.

  But the look he gave me, the look he’d kept hidden from the press and from most of his other visitors, had me rushing across the room to give the former. He knew just how lucky he’d been, and it had scared him. It brought it home that despite everything, despite all the accidents every driver had walked away from as they’d gone from karting, transitioning through every stage to reach the top level they now drove at, they were all just as fallible as anyone else, no matter how much skill and protection they had.

  ‘Marco and I had been seeing each other for about a year by then. We were having fun, enjoying each other’s company but neither of us had serious plans. It was kind of hard to make those sort of plans – our lives were so busy and chaotic and Marco was never one for serious. He loves that life. The racing, of course but also the glitz of it. The parties. All the beautiful people. I never felt comfortable with all that.

  ‘But everything changed that day. Marco knew just how close he had come and it was as if with that knowledge came a wish to make the most of every moment he’d been given. A few days after the accident, I was just sat on the bed next to him in the hospital room, and he asked me to marry him.

  ‘I never should have said yes to his proposal,’ I told Cal, who was listening quietly, his large, warm hand still wrapped around mine, providing comfort but not pressure.

  ‘We were both so caught up in the emotional aftermath of something that we knew could have ended very differently.’

  ‘You didn’t love him?’

  ‘I did. But I realised after a while that it wasn’t in the right way. Or if in the right way, maybe just not quite enough. Not in the way I really should have if I was going to make a commitment like that. It wasn’t fair on me and it certainly wasn’t fair on him. He deserved so much more than that from me.’

  ‘It can’t have been an easy time. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.’

  I pulled a face, sniffed, and blew my nose, knowing I must look a complete state and glad of the low lighting in the cosy room.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  I smiled and rolled my head, now resting on the back of the sofa, to face him. ‘It would be a little hypocritical of me to say no, wouldn’t it?’

  He returned the smile and held my gaze. ‘Is what happened with Marco why you’re frightened to let somethin
g happen between us?’

  I couldn’t stop the tear that trickled down the side of my cheek, nor the one that followed. ‘You have to believe me, Cal. I’m not right for you. It won’t work.’

  He lifted his hand, the slightest touch brushing away the tears. ‘I know you say that it’s because you’ll be going away, and that it will be hard to see each other, which I understand. But I think you like me.’ I knew the look on my face confirmed his statement. ‘And I really like you, Lexi. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else in my life. More than I’ve ever let myself like anyone. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s more than that. Which is why I’d rearrange the stars to make it work with you. So you have to give me more reason than you have to convince me it won’t.’

  ‘Cal. I can’t have children.’

  I saw his Adam’s apple bob and faint ridges appeared on his forehead. Silence drifted over us for a moment. I stepped in before he could. ‘At least not easily. I have endometriosis, and the likelihood of me conceiving a child … well, it’s not great.’

  Somehow, I felt that framing the information in a more casual, detached form might help the situation feel a little less painful. That it might, by association, allow me to be a little more detached too. But I knew I was kidding myself. The pain of that knowledge, and what it meant, tonight especially, was as real and raw as the moment the doctors had first told me the results and what that meant for me.

  ‘Are you still in pain?’ Cal asked.

  I gave him a wary look and he pulled a face.

  ‘When I found out George was on the way, you wouldn’t believe how many online rabbit holes I fell down,’ he said, explaining his knowledge.

  ‘Sometimes. It’s not so bad at the moment.’

  ‘But they think it will come back?’

  ‘They, and I, know it will.’

  ‘How long have you had it?’

  I looked down at where he’d kept hold of my hand and traced my finger along the fine, silvery scar on the back of his distractedly. ‘Quite a while. I was still living at home when it all started.’

  ‘Did you know what it was at the time?’

  I shook my head. ‘I didn’t even know it existed. That might sound a bit ignorant, I guess, but I just had different interests and girls’ and women’s magazines – places I might have accidentally discovered stuff like that – weren’t exactly my reading matter of choice.’

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Cal’s voice was soft and, in the low light, I could just about discern the slight curve of his mouth.

  I gave a little shrug and returned the almost-smile.

  ‘So, what happened? How did you find out that’s what you had?’

  ‘I’d tried to hide how bad it was from my parents. I wasn’t one for scouring the internet when it came to medical stuff, and as it was often centred around that kind of time, I just assumed it was kind of normal in a “really bad period pain” way. Anyway, one day the pain came on so severe, and so sudden, I didn’t have time to get out of the kitchen and ended up curled up in a ball, sobbing. Dad picked me up, and they took me to A&E. I was referred and found to have quite a severe case of endometriosis. They booked me in for surgery and I was put on the contraceptive pill to try and help keep it in check.’

  ‘You weren’t on that then?’

  ‘Not then, no. But the trouble was I felt absolutely awful on it. They kept trying different ones. Some gave me such awful headaches, I could barely see. Another I persevered with for ages but I spent most of the morning feeling sick every day I was on it. It was a nightmare trying to find one that agreed with me.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Not especially. I just ending up sticking with the one that made me feel the least terrible. It wasn’t ideal but I didn’t have a lot of choice.’

  ‘And did it help?’

  ‘I suppose it did. I still had to go back in to hospital a couple of times when it got bad.’

  Cal nodded, thoughtful for a moment. ‘Something tells me there’s more to the story.’

  I raised my eyes to meet his as I let out a sigh. ‘It’s not something I really talk about. Only a few people even know, outside my direct family.’

  ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Lexi.’

  I shook my head. ‘I know. And I’m not. I’m just … not used to talking about it much.’

  ‘That’s understandable.’ He caught my chin with his forefinger and tilted it up from where I had gone back to studying his hand. ‘But so far I haven’t heard anything that makes me think we can’t make this work.’

  ‘That’s because you haven’t heard the whole story.’

  ‘Tell me then,’ he said, softly.

  I shifted in the seat, and Cal sat back a little, giving me the physical – and mental – space I needed to get the rest of the story out. He wasn’t demanding in his request. He was asking me to share and bearing in mind he’d offered to let me into his life and share him and his son, and I was hell-bent on rejecting him, I knew that he deserved an explanation.

  Something deep inside of me wanted him to know that I wasn’t doing this because I wanted to. I was doing it because I had to. For him. For George. And for me. Doing it now was painful enough. Doing it further down the line meant risking far too many hearts. As it was, mine was already feeling far more bruised than it should after such a short acquaintance.

  ‘When I told Marco about everything, when we got engaged, he wasn’t worried. He was adamant that he wanted kids at some point and just as adamant that we’d have no problem. After his accident, he was sat at home and I guess as he wasn’t rushing around at a million miles an hour like he was used to doing in his life, having had to slow down and accept that he needed the recovery time, he began to notice just how grim the pill made me feel. I’d moved in at that point partly to keep an eye on him and partly because we were both quite swept up in this new phase of our lives and it seemed a natural step.

  ‘Being in close proximity all the time, I wasn’t quite so able to hide feeling ill from the medication as I was used to doing with everyone. Marco suggested me coming off it just to see how things went.’ I glanced at Cal. ‘I expect you’re thinking we were rushing into things?’

  ‘I’m not thinking anything except how lucky he was to have you, and I’m trying not to focus on that too much right now.’

  ‘Opinions change.’

  ‘Mine won’t. Just so you know.’

  I met his eyes and got the distinct feeling he meant every word. But I couldn’t let myself think about that. I had to do this for all of us. We’d all move on in time, I told myself in what I hoped was a convincing manner. Cal I was sure of; I, on the other hand, was less guaranteed.

  ‘So, the first couple of times, we used protection …’ I looked up at Cal. ‘This seems so weird telling you all this.’

  ‘It’s fine. I want to hear it all. And I think you need to tell it.’

  ‘So, the first time we didn’t use something was a bit of an accident. Late night, too much wine. You know how these things happen.’

  He bent his head down and gave me a look.

  ‘Oh yeah. Good point.’ Little George was a prime example of “how these things happen”. Of course, Cal knew.

  ‘Anyway, nothing happened that time, or after a few more times. And then I suppose, somehow, we transitioned to actually trying in earnest for a baby. But every month was the same. I ended up going back in for more endometriosis surgery at one point and during the follow-up, Marco asked if there was a reason I wasn’t getting pregnant. He hadn’t discussed it with me, just kind of blurted it out there and I guess I felt like he was putting the blame squarely on me. Which I know now that he wasn’t. It’s just the way he is. When things aren’t going right with his car, or in his life, he wants to know why, and how it can be fixed. He’s used to getting data and using that to make things better. Except this wasn’t something that could be made better just by having the information.’

  ‘Had he ever got himself check
ed out?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Your fiancé? Had he ever got himself checked out?’

  I shook my head. ‘It wasn’t him, Cal. It’s definitely me.’

  Cal opened his mouth to say something else but seeing the look on my face, closed it, gave my hand a little squeeze and encouraged me to go on.

  ‘Anyway, the consultant told us that I was starting off at a bit of a disadvantage because of the severity of my endometriosis, even though I’d been taking the pill to help control it, it had certainly lowered my chances of conceiving. At least naturally. Marco brought up IVF and the possibilities with that, and while the doctor said it was a possible option, he also emphasised that we shouldn’t give up hope and just keep trying naturally.’

  ‘I imagine that the stress of it all wasn’t exactly conducive to romantic nights in?’ Cal, astute as ever, was exactly right.

  ‘No. Not really. I could tell walking away from the appointment that something had changed. You know when you just feel a tiny shift in the way things are? Nothing you can exactly put your finger on, but there’s just … something.’

  ‘And had it?’

  ‘Yes.’ The word came out sadder than I’d intended and I cleared my throat of the lump that had popped up as I went back to that day in my mind. ‘Our relationship had already changed by that point. What had been a fun-loving one had turned stressful, and we were arguing more and more. We’d argued before over things, even when we were just friends. Well, Marco never called it arguing. He called it having a healthy discussion. Which, I suppose it was usually. Kind of like the arguments I have with my family. But these were different. These were definite arguments.’

  ‘Was he supportive?’

  I nodded. ‘He was. But I knew it was taking its toll on him too. The constant disappointment month after month. After the accident, Marco got this renewed zest for life. I think that’s why he proposed when he did. He knew he’d been given a second chance in a way. But the longer we were together, the more I saw that life, that joy that he’d always had in his eyes, start to dim. It was awful knowing I was the reason for that.’