I'll Be Home for Christmas: A heartwarming feel good romantic comedy

by Karen Clarke

  I moved to the door and knocked again, then tried to open it. When it swung inwards, I nearly laughed out loud. Charlie hadn’t locked up before going to bed – or passing out, delirious in the garden. Dropping my bags and bunch of flowers on the floor, I felt the wall for a switch and slammed on the light, blinking in the flood of brightness. ‘Charlie!’ Delphine, who’d frozen mid-paw-lick, shot me a look of intense dislike and disappeared upstairs, and I hurried to the kitchen at the back of the house and stared out of the window.

  Light from next door cascaded over the garden, but there was no sign of Charlie. Unless he was in the shed, but the snow on the lawn was thankfully free of footprints – just a set of bird tracks leading to the wall at the end. I opened the back door just in case. ‘Charlie!’ My voice sounded dead on the air, and I came back inside and took the stairs two at a time.

  It was colder up here, and in the first bedroom I came to a plume of icy air funnelled out, even though the window inside was shut. ‘Charlie?’ The duvet on the brass-framed bed looked like a drift of snow, and was indented in the middle as though it had been lain – or sat on – recently. Pulse fluttering, I darted out and snapped on the landing light. The next room was empty, a tartan blanket neatly folded at the end of the bed, no sign of life other than the faded scents of perfume and men’s cologne in the air. In the bathroom, there were signs of life – a tube of toothpaste with the lid off, and a towel flung on the laundry basket, and there was a pair of socks on the sparkling quartz-tile floor, as though Charlie had been about to take a shower but was interrupted. Or maybe his feet had been hot and, in his delirium, he had thought the tiles were snow. I wasn’t sure why I’d fixated on him being delirious, but it seemed the only explanation for him not being where he should be.

  A frustrated sense of panic rose as I ran downstairs and checked the living room again – a nice room, I could see in proper lighting; cosy and inviting, everything where it should be. I ran to the kitchen, jumping slightly when I spotted a photo on the windowsill of an elderly couple, sitting on spread-out coats on a grassy hillock. Probably Natalie’s grandparents.

  Unbidden, I thought of Gran. ‘Where’s Charlie?’ I said out loud, and as if she’d heard and sent a sign, I detected the faintest noise directly above me; a slight scraping sound that triggered a rush of adrenaline. I took the stairs more cautiously, half-expecting to see Delphine arranging herself on top of a wardrobe, ready to jump on my head, but when I looked in the first bedroom, she was standing by a door I hadn’t noticed before.

  It was slightly open, and I realised where the draught was coming from: an en suite bathroom. The window in there must be open. I darted across the room, stumbling over Delphine, who’d chosen that moment to wind herself through my legs in a figure of eight, tail lashing with pleasure – or anger. As I toppled, I shot out my hands, falling into space as the door slammed open, sending me crashing to my hands and knees on the floor inside. ‘Jesus Christ!’ That cat!

  I sucked in a breath, waiting for the pain in my knee to subside, shivering with cold in the darkness. I lifted my head, looking for the light-pull, when I noticed a shadowy outline on the floor by a claw-footed bath, and felt all the breath leave my body. Not only was one foot awkwardly twisted, a dark stain was spreading from under his head.

  ‘Charlie!’ I crawled forward, fighting an urge to be sick. ‘Charlie, wake up!’ I lifted his arm, scrabbling my fingers down to his wrist. His skin felt dry and hot, in spite of how cold the room was, which at least meant he couldn’t be dead. ‘Charlie!’ I couldn’t make out if it was his pulse I could feel, or the rapid beat of my heart in my fingertips.

  ‘Chuck, wake up,’ I pleaded, as if this was one of our childhood games and he was pretending to be dead to scare me. Any second now, he’d rear up, howling like a wolf, and I’d scream loudly enough to bring my parents charging into the room.

  When he didn’t move, I rested my hand on his chest and felt a faint rise and fall. He was breathing. ‘Charlie.’ His name came out on a sob and he groaned and twisted his head.

  ‘Elle?’

  ‘Charlie, it’s me, Nina.’ I took his face gently between my hands, tears spilling over. ‘You mustn’t move your head,’ I told him. ‘You’ve had a fall.’

  ‘Whereami?’ It came out as one word, thickened by pain, or maybe his painful throat. ‘Wha… ithurts,’ he slurred.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘Don’t try to talk.’ I kissed his forehead. Too hot. He smelt strongly of citrus, as if he’d recently sprayed himself with strong deodorant. ‘You’re at Natalie’s house,’ I said, wiping a hand over my face before feeling for my phone. ‘I’m going to get help.’ As I said it, I realised I didn’t know the number for the emergency services. I’d have to call Dolly and get her to ring them – only, I didn’t have the number for the café. Or Frank’s number, or anyone else’s in Chamillon. I thought about asking Charlie, but I didn’t want to worry him – plus his eyes were closed once more.

  Whimpering, I brought up Google, but had only got as far as typing in whatis ebergency bumbers fro frannece before my battery gave up and died – probably in protest at my trembly-fingered spelling mistakes.

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘Wassup?’ Charlie tried to move again and let out a bloodcurdling yell, hand shooting to his leg. ‘Think s’broken, Nina.’

  I felt a fresh twist of panic. ‘Charlie, what the hell happened?’ I said, forgetting I’d just urged him not to speak. But he’d slumped back into semi-consciousness before I could ask where his phone was. ‘Keep an eye on him,’ I ordered Delphine, who was sitting Sphinx-like on the toilet seat, eyes gleaming like headlights. ‘Do NOT eat his face.’

  I didn’t want to leave him, but couldn’t wait around on the off chance that Frank or Dolly would be worried enough to turn up. I got to my feet and yanked the window shut, then grabbed the duvet from the bed and laid it over Charlie. I wanted to put a pillow under his head to make him more comfortable, but daren’t risk moving him. He was twitching and muttering as though in the grip of a nightmare, and I decided against pulling the light on. I couldn’t bear to see the bloodstain in all its grisly glory.

  I raced back downstairs and flew outside and hammered on the door of the guest house. There was the sound of footsteps on floorboards and a latch being lifted, then the door opened slowly, releasing a cooking fragrance of wine and herbs that made me feel fainter than I already did.

  ‘Marie?’

  ‘Ah… oui.’ The woman sounded wary. I must look a total state. ‘Qui es-tu?’

  ‘Nina,’ I said and swallowed. ‘Charlie…’ I pointed next door and the woman stepped closer, silhouetted by the light in the entrance behind her.

  ‘Charlie?’ Her tone sharpened with alarm. ‘Que c’est il passé?’ she said. ‘What has happened?’

  ‘I need you to call an ambulance,’ I gasped. I’d never gasped before. ‘Ambulance.’

  The woman gasped too, a hand flying to her mouth. As she backed quickly to a narrow table and picked up a handset, I hurtled next door, willing Charlie to be back to his usual self. He was lying where I’d left him, murmuring incomprehensively, while Delphine looked on from the toilet lid, purring loudly. Glad to be in the cocooning effect of shadows once more, I filled a glass with water at the sink. Falling to my knees, I gently lifted Charlie’s head. ‘Help’s on its way,’ I murmured, trickling some water between his lips.

  Hearing rapid footsteps on the stairs, I put the glass down and turned to see the neighbour outlined in the doorway.

  ‘Charlie!’ she cried, her hand reaching for the light pull.

  As the room flooded with brightness, I turned my head and covered my eyes, terrified of what I would see.

  ‘How is he hurt?’ Marie was on her knees beside me, and I looked at her through my fingers, glimpsing silver-threaded dark hair, escaping a clip at the back of her head, and dark eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘I think his ankle might be broken
.’ She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, as if to stop another cry escaping. ‘He’s got a head injury too.’ My voice wobbled. ‘It looks pretty bad.’ I slowly lowered my hands, steeling myself to see just how bad it was, eyes travelling from Charlie’s bare feet over the thick duvet shrouding his body, up to his neck and… I shunted backwards and screamed so loudly, Delphine shot past as though fired from a canon. ‘It’s green,’ I croaked, clasping my cheeks, looking at the fluid seeping from Charlie’s head. His eyes had snapped open, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, adding to the sense that I’d landed in a nightmare. ‘Why is it green?’ I whimpered. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Elle?’ Charlie whispered.

  Marie, who’d been staring at me with wide-eyed shock, looked down and touched the liquid. ‘Citron vert,’ she said, bringing her fingers to her nose. ‘It smells like limes.’

  ‘Limes?’ That was the smell I’d assumed was Charlie’s deodorant.

  ‘There must be a…’ Marie cast her eyes round. ‘Look, it has spilled.’ She pointed to a plastic bottle without its top, lying under the bath. ‘I think it is shower gel.’

  Trance-like, I reached past Charlie, who’d flung his arm across his eyes as if to block out the light, and picked up the empty container. The words ‘Lime Sensation, 100% Natural’ were written on a leaf-shaped logo on the front and the bottle was almost empty. ‘Shower gel,’ I murmured.

  Thank God, Charlie wasn’t bleeding. He must have planned to take a bath, and in a delirious state (definitely delirious) had slipped and fallen, knocking the open bottle to the floor, where the gel had oozed out. I nearly giggled, then choked out a sob of relief.

  ‘You’re such an idiot, Chuck. Why didn’t you just come home?’

  He was trying to sit up, grabbing for the rim of the bath, and Marie gently pressed him down, making shushing noises as she tucked the duvet around him. ‘Who are you?’ she said to me.

  ‘I told you, I’m Nina.’

  ‘You are his friend?’

  ‘His cousin.’ Crouching, I picked up the glass of water again and tilted Charlie’s head so his lips met the glass. He took a couple of sips, wincing as he swallowed.

  ‘We do not know that he did not bang his head,’ Marie said, and my relief gave way to another wave of worry. ‘I think he is feeling a lot of pain.’

  ‘He wasn’t well yesterday.’ I dabbed his mouth with the edge of the duvet. ‘His throat was hurting.’ A siren was approaching, getting louder as it turned into the street. ‘It’s the ambulance.’ Relief flowed in once more.

  ‘I will go and let them in,’ Marie said.

  There were two paramedics, one with equipment, the other in charge, and after Marie explained in French what we thought had happened, Charlie was gently checked over, a tiny torchlight beamed into his eyes and down his throat.

  He kept trying to talk, but wasn’t making any sense and I caught the word délirant from one of the paramedics. Delirious, I knew it. He also had a suspected broken ankle, possible concussion, inflamed tonsils and was running a temperature.

  ‘I must make a call,’ Marie said, her face pale beneath a light layer of make-up. ‘Elle will want to be with him.’

  I looked at her properly for the first time. She was a young-looking fifty-something, with a neatness about her movements, dressed in a belted jersey dress and low-heeled shoes.

  ‘You’re her aunt,’ I said, the penny dropping. ‘The one she didn’t know she had.’

  ‘I am.’ Her whole face softened as she said it. ‘Elle is my niece.’

  While Charlie was being carefully transported downstairs on a stretcher, I heard him say Delphine’s name. ‘She’s fine,’ I told him, tears springing to my eyes as I touched his hand. I’d never seen him so helpless. ‘Don’t worry about anything except getting better.’ I turned to Marie. ‘I need to call Dolly.’

  But she was already at the front door, a coat thrown over her work trousers and apron, the reindeer on her Christmas jumper peering through the gap, watching as her son was slid into the back of the ambulance, like one of her trays of croissants into the oven. I moved to hug her, and explained as fast I could. ‘He’s going to be OK,’ I said. ‘They’re taking him to the hospital in La Rochelle.’

  ‘I have to go with him.’ She looked stricken. ‘Can you go back to the café, love, and help Frank with the launch?’

  ‘Launch?’ I imagined a rocket shooting into the sky, then remembered what she was talking about.

  ‘Margot,’ she said, giving my arms a squeeze. ‘It’s her book party tonight.’

  Twenty-Six

  Thankfully, Frank was on host duty when I returned, cleaned up and dapper in royal blue braces with matching pinstriped trousers, listening intently to a woman with a jet-black bob and a Yorkshire accent, talking loudly about reconnecting with an old lover on a recent trip to the UK. Because of her accent, I wondered whether Frank was a relative, but when he saw me, he pulled away and said in a low voice, ‘That’s Mimi Carruthers. She’s sex-obsessed, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Too bloody right I am!’ she boomed, with a cackle that made her considerable bosom bounce. ‘I’m making up for lost time.’

  With a comical grimace, Frank hustled me away and said, ‘Thank heavens you went to find him, Nina.’

  ‘Did Dolly call you?’

  ‘From the ambulance.’ There was a layer of anxiety beneath his smile. ‘It’s a good job you found him when you did, love.’

  ‘I’m sure you or Dolly would have, if I hadn’t.’ A wave of tiredness crashed over me as the enormity sank in. Just another hour or so, falling in and out of unconsciousness in a freezing cold bathroom with a broken ankle, could have seen Charlie’s condition deteriorate fast. I could still see the tail lights of the ambulance disappearing down the street, and hear Marie’s concerned voice, checking I was OK, only retreating to call Elle when I’d assured her that I was fine to walk back to the café on my own.

  Frank’s hand cupped my elbow. ‘You go up and sort yourself out, I’ve got this,’ he said. ‘We’ve plenty of pairs of hands, and you look like you need a lie down.’ Stefan eased past, a black bow tie at the collar of a fresh white shirt, a tray of champagne flutes balanced on both hands. ‘Margot’s all set up and Celeste’s sister’s helping out.’ He nodded to a taller, broader version of Celeste, but with the same warm, open smile.

  Margot was easy to spot among the assembled guests. She was by the Christmas tree, presiding over a table piled with copies of her book, resplendent in a black and green floaty dress, hair teased high, with tendrils curling around her cheeks. The dark-haired man, smiling proudly at her side, could only be her son, Raphael. She kept casting him little looks, as if checking he was really there, and he had a similar way of holding his head, as if listening to something no one else could hear.

  ‘I see Dolly couldn’t resist adding some festive touches,’ I said, spotting all the Christmas crackers laid out and several guests wearing foil party hats. One was making a racket with an old-fashioned party blower – the sort Mum would eventually confiscate when Ben and I got carried away and gave her a headache.

  ‘It’s going down well,’ Frank said.

  ‘I’ll just get changed and come back down.’ I raised my voice over a blast of laughter from a group of women I recognised as the knitting ladies, Dee among them, a finely-knitted shawl draped around her shoulders that I was certain she couldn’t have knitted – it looked too perfect.

  ‘If you’re sure, love.’

  I nodded. I didn’t want to be in the apartment alone, wondering what Ryan was doing, and knew I wouldn’t rest until I’d had an update about Charlie. Pushing aside an image of his anguished face, and Dolly’s brave one as she climbed into the ambulance, I slipped through to the kitchen, to see Mathilde putting the finishing touches to a spaceship cake, complete with sugarpaste lovers draped in a sheet of icing.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ I said, then remembered she was deaf. ‘INCROYABLE!’ I roared, riveted by the si
ght of her gnarled fingers delicately tweezering tiny silver stars onto the cake board. Did she know about Charlie? Knowing they were close, I was wondering whether to mime what had happened, with appropriate facial gestures, when she raised her head and gave me a smile so venomous, I quickly backed away and headed upstairs.

  I couldn’t resist looking in Charlie’s bedroom as I passed, my heart sinking when I saw that Ryan’s suitcase was gone. How could he have upped and left without waiting to at least say goodbye to Charlie? I imagined him hanging around for a bit, hoping his friend would come back, Nicole growing increasingly impatient as their flight time drew closer, finally firing off a text and asking Dolly to pass on a message, with no idea that Charlie was ill.

  I checked my room too, with the ridiculous notion that he might have left a note on my pillow – some tiny acknowledgement of what had passed between us the night before – but my pillow, and every surface in the room, was note-free. Even if he’d thought about it, I supposed it would have been tricky with Nicole here, desperate to get him back to England.

  In my imagination, she was morphing into a pinch-faced crone, her hair straggly and dry (and shorter) than in real life, hawk-like eyes tracking Ryan’s every move, adamant he’d never escape her clutches again. Eurgh! I needed a slap. Nicole was a mother, and the woman he’d once asked to marry him – and he had a mind of his own. She hadn’t exactly had to twist his arm to tempt him back.

  I scoped the room once more, angling the bedside light to make sure a note hadn’t fluttered to the floor when I opened the door. Remembering the letters in the drawer, I took them out and laid them on top of the chest to remind me to return them to Gérard, before making my way to the living room, where the dining table looked oddly bare without Ryan’s laptop there.

  The E in Merry Christmas had slipped sideways above the fireplace, and I automatically straightened it, then let it slip again. What did it matter, when there was no one but me to see it? I straightened it again. It matters to me.