The Christmas Wish List: The perfect cosy read to settle down with this autumn

by Heidi Swain

  ‘And have you thought any more about contacting your parents before you go?’ she asked.

  These were words she had definitely had no qualms about saying before.

  ‘I have,’ I told her.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, I talked it through with Jonathan and he agrees with me. As we’re no longer in contact with them, where in the world I’m living won’t make any difference to the situation.’

  I heard Dolly sigh.

  ‘Look,’ I said, beginning to feel ruffled, ‘you know as well as I do what Mum said that last time Jonathan saw her, and I can’t forgive either her or Dad for that on top of everything else, I just can’t—’

  ‘And yet you forgave Jonathan last year,’ she interrupted, ‘and his behaviour was—’

  ‘Can we just change the subject, please?’ I cut in. ‘How are your plans for Christmas shaping up?’

  Another sigh.

  ‘I’m not going to talk about my parents, Dolly.’

  ‘In that case,’ she said, finally letting it go, ‘and as you’ve asked, I do want to talk to you about Christmas.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, I was wondering if there might be a chance that you would come to stay with me in the run-up to it. You said yourself that Jonathan is going to be away a lot and that you had no festive plans of your own.’

  I had said that.

  ‘So, I was thinking,’ she carried on, ‘that it would be nice, for me especially I suppose, if you could come and help me with mine. You know how much I love it all and it would mean so much if we could have this very last Christmas together.’

  ‘What do you mean by very last Christmas?’ I frowned, even though she couldn’t see me.

  The way she had said it made it sound so final.

  ‘Your last Christmas here, in the UK, of course,’ she went on. ‘I can’t imagine you will be rushing back here next December to celebrate something you aren’t all that bothered about. I’ll be lucky to get so much as a phone call before you head off to the beach for your barbecue, or whatever it is you’ll be having.’

  ‘I think that’s an Australian thing,’ I told her.

  ‘Well, whatever,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Can I let you know?’

  ‘Of course, but I hope you’ll say yes. I’ve decided I’m giving up work at Christmas now, instead of in the summer and it would be lovely to have you here with me when the time comes.’

  That was almost more of a surprise than Jonathan asking me to move to Abu Dhabi.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ I gasped. ‘Why the change of plan?’

  Dolly took a moment before answering.

  ‘Because, loath as I am to say it,’ she said, sounding annoyed to have to admit it, ‘I’m not much enjoying getting up and out so early on these chilly mornings. I think I’ve done as much as I can with my working life. It’s time I had a rest.’

  That didn’t sound like Dolly at all. She didn’t even rest at weekends. There was always something going on in Wynbridge that she was a part of.

  ‘But surely the school would be happy to have you start a little later in the day.’ I suggested.

  ‘That’s no good,’ she said, sounding impatient. ‘You need to be there the moment the children arrive. You can tell a lot about how a little one is feeling when they walk through the door and that can impact on their whole day, and besides, this is always the best term. There’s so much excitement surrounding Christmas, what with the nativity play, concerts, activities and fairs. It’s always been my favourite time of the school year so it’s an ideal time to bow out really.’

  I couldn’t imagine Dolly would ever really bow out of school life and I was sure the teaching staff couldn’t imagine the place without her either, but I could understand where she was coming from about Christmas at school. In the past, before my festive spirit had been knocked on the head and I had fantasised about properly working in a school, I had always pictured myself helping out with the play, adjusting angel wings and making special cards, squelchy with glitter and glue, to take home to parents.

  ‘Have the school got a special assembly planned for you?’ I asked.

  ‘I hope not,’ said Dolly with what I imagined was a shudder. ‘We had all that palaver when I officially retired at sixty-five.’

  ‘They’re bound to want to mark the occasion in some way though, aren’t they?’

  ‘All the more reason to have you here to help me through it then,’ she said quickly. ‘You know how I hate a fuss.’

  *

  ‘I bet she’s going to try and make you change your mind about moving,’ was the first thing Jonathan said when I relayed Dolly’s request. ‘I could tell she hated the idea right from the moment I asked you, and what about Christmas?’

  ‘What about Christmas?’ I snapped, ladling steaming risotto into bowls and feeling shocked by his reaction. ‘We don’t bother with it, do we? We aren’t even having decorations this year so I can’t see how my not being here in the weeks leading up to it will impact on you. Besides, you aren’t even going to be here half the time.’

  I snatched up the bowls and walked over to the island, roughly shoving one into his hands before I poured us both a glass of wine. It had been a while since he’d sounded so narky and I didn’t much like this sudden reappearance of the version of himself that he’d promised to leave behind the day he gave me a key to the flat.

  That said, I was certain the thought of me going to Wynbridge again reminded him of the circumstances of my last visit, and he was no doubt feeling flustered as a result, but that still didn’t justify him being impolite about my friend.

  ‘I don’t know what it is that you’ve got against, Dolly,’ I began.

  ‘I haven’t got anything against her,’ he interrupted but I cut him off.

  ‘I know you think our friendship is an unusual one and so what if it is? You seem to have forgotten that I have no family to turn to. Dolly is the only person I’ve got.’

  ‘Thanks to your parents,’ he interrupted again.

  I wished Mum and Dad wouldn’t keep winkling their way into practically every conversation.

  ‘We’ll be moving in January,’ I carried on, ‘and this may very well be the last opportunity I have to spend the run-up to Christmas with my friend.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she is getting any younger, is she?’ Jonathan mused.

  ‘I meant because we’re going to be so far away,’ I shot back, ‘and I want to be with her when she finishes at the school. That place has been her life, and even though she says she’s ready to give it up, she’s bound to find it hard. I want to be there to support her, just like she’s always been there for me.’

  Jonathan took a moment to take my words in.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m so sorry, Hattie. It’s just even talking about that place . . . it reminds me of the reason why you were last there . . .’

  The way his voice caught in his throat was proof enough that he was feeling upset by the memories the mention of Wynbridge had dredged up.

  ‘I know,’ I sighed. ‘I do understand.’

  ‘Of course, you should go,’ he said. ‘It’s important and I shouldn’t have reacted like that. When will you leave?’

  ‘I’m booking the train for Friday,’ I told him.

  There was no need to say that I’d already downloaded the tickets to my phone.

  ‘So, you won’t be around next weekend?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Damn,’ he tutted. ‘That’s a shame. I was planning something rather special.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I swallowed, my heart hammering as I realised there was only one ‘something rather special’ he could be talking about. ‘I didn’t know. I assumed you’d be gone again by then.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ he smiled. ‘I probably will fly out early as you won’t be here.’

  ‘OK,’ I nodded.

  ‘I really do understand that this visit to see Dolly is impor
tant, Hattie,’ he said, reaching for my hand, ‘and what I’ve got in mind will keep. Though not for much longer.’

  I felt my face turn a shade brighter as he squeezed my fingers and grinned.

  ‘In that case,’ I conceded, ‘if you let me know when you’ve got your schedule sorted, perhaps I’ll see if I can come back a little earlier than planned.’

  Chapter 3

  I assumed that Jonathan had made his peace with the thought of me heading back to Wynbridge again, but he still had one last-ditch attempt to try and make me change my plans. However, given what he was suggesting, I couldn’t help thinking that his motivation was well meant rather than meddlesome.

  ‘You could fly out with me,’ he said just as I was about to leave. ‘The weather’s glorious right now and you know I’m going to be viewing the apartments. I can easily book another room and you could fly home in a week or so and go straight to Wynbridge then. You’d still be with Dolly in plenty of time for the end of term.’

  ‘I’m not going to do that, Jonathan.’ I told him, even though it really would have been lovely to see the apartments for myself.

  ‘Don’t you want to help me choose where we’re going to be living?’ he asked, sounding a little peeved.

  ‘Of course, I do,’ I told him, looking out of the flat window as the taxi I’d booked pulled onto the forecourt. ‘And I can choose with you from the extra photos you send. We’ve already narrowed it down to three places.’

  ‘But it won’t be the same. You won’t be able to get the feel of them from a photo.’

  ‘Look,’ I said, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake in turning him down. ‘I know the layout of all of them now and if I can’t decide, I’m certain you’ll pick the right one for us. I trust you, Jonathan.’

  Truth be told, I was surprised he hadn’t jumped at the chance to be in charge. The old Jonathan wouldn’t have given my preference a second thought if he didn’t agree with it, but then we’d banished him, hadn’t we? Really I should have been feeling grateful that he valued my opinion rather than annoyed that he was so keen for me to express it.

  ‘Well, all right,’ he sighed, ‘as long as you’re absolutely sure.’

  ‘I am,’ I said, ‘and now I really do have to go otherwise I’ll miss my train.’

  He did nothing to help me along and I began to wonder if his behaviour was a little reminiscent of the clingy conduct which had preceded my last trip to Wynbridge. Perhaps the old Jonathan wasn’t completely exiled after all.

  ‘And you’re sure you’re going to be all right travelling alone?’ he asked. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘Of course, I’ll be all right,’ I laughed. ‘What are you talking about? It’s only a train and a taxi journey.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he shrugged, ‘I know I’m making a fuss but I worry about you and it’s quite a trek. You should have agreed to let me drive you then you wouldn’t have to struggle with all these bags.’

  I felt a little ashamed then, to have mistaken his current concern and kind consideration for his former suffocating clinginess. His offer to drive me to Wynbridge couldn’t have been easily made given his memories of the place.

  ‘I’ll be fine on the train,’ I told him, ‘but thank you for offering to drive.’

  ‘All right,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll walk you down.’

  ‘No,’ I smiled, planting a swift kiss on his cheek. ‘It’s all right. I can manage.’

  He stepped closer and kissed me softly on the lips. I pulled away before it really was too late.

  ‘I have to go,’ I whispered.

  I left quickly, thinking how strange it felt to be the one going. Jonathan popped in and out of the flat regularly, but the only place I ever ventured off to on my own was to work. Or should I say, had been to work? The journey to Wynbridge was, as he had pointed out, the first trip I’d taken on my own in what felt like a very long time. It was hardly a global adventure, and I didn’t for one second think he’d intended to, but his concern had made me feel a bit jittery about it.

  *

  Unfortunately, my sudden attack of nerves were completely justified because the journey was far from straightforward. The taxi had barely set off when Jonathan rang to say I’d left the paper copy of my ticket behind. It didn’t really matter because I had it on the app on my phone, but then I started worrying something would go wrong with that. The traffic through the city was crawling and when I did eventually arrive at the station, I pushed through the crowds to discover the timetable was completely off-kilter thanks to a series of signal failures.

  Consequently, the few trains that were running were heaving and there was no hope of securing the seat I had reserved or finding a spot for my bags. I ended up wedged by the steamy window with them piled on my lap and around my feet and next to a mum with a screaming toddler with a toy xylophone and opposite the ultimate manspreader who stared at me from the second the train set off to the moment I fought my way off at Peterborough.

  Conditions there were little better. Rain was pouring from a slate-grey sky and the wind was roaring along the platform. It was all I could do to hang on to my luggage and stay upright as I made my way towards the taxi rank. I kept my head bent and pushed on, hoping the lift was working and I wouldn’t have to tackle the flights of steps to get out of the station. I could hear someone shouting ahead of me, but I didn’t look up.

  ‘Hey!’ bellowed the voice again. ‘Hattie!’

  I risked a brief upward glance; my face was soaked in an instant and I found myself blinking at what appeared to be a human wall. The bitter wind stung my eyes and I just knew that my newest mascara had let me down every bit as spectacularly as the old one.

  ‘Sorry,’ shouted the man-wall. ‘Did I make you jump? I didn’t mean to. You are Hattie, aren’t you?’

  ‘That depends,’ I shouted back, the wind carrying my voice off and away as the rain ran down my face. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Beamish,’ the guy, who I guessed was about the same age as me, beamed.

  Did he really say his name was Beamish?

  From under the hood of his waxed coat, I could see his large brown eyes smiling into mine. His lashes were thick, long and dark and his jaw was covered in stubble. How he could even bring himself to think about smiling given the conditions was beyond me, but it was a great smile. In fact, given the bad mood my rotten journey had put me in coupled with the atrocious weather conditions, it must have been a spectacular smile for me to even notice it.

  ‘Dolly asked me to give you this,’ he said, pulling an envelope out of his coat pocket. ‘She’s asked me to come and pick you up.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting a taxi to come out from Wynbridge,’ I sniffed, feeling a little wrong-footed and not only because of his unexpected presence.

  I swapped one of my bags with him for the envelope and turned out of the wind before pulling off a glove so I could open it. My fingers were numb within seconds. The note confirmed what the block of masculine masonry, had said. His name was in fact Beamish and he was here to collect me.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ I said, turning back and stuffing the note deep into my pocket, ‘before we freeze to death.’

  Beamish didn’t seem to notice the cold, the rain or the weight of my luggage, which he carried out of the station without so much as a grimace. I had to practically trot to keep pace with him but didn’t feel much warmer for the effort.

  ‘What’s happened to your face?’ I asked, catching a longer look at him as the wind blew back the saturated hood of his coat and he stowed my soaked bags into the boot and behind the driving seat of his mud-splattered Toyota truck. It was an unusual choice of vehicle for a taxi, but then Wynbridge was rather rural. Perhaps it was what was needed to ferry passengers around the country lanes at this time of year.

  ‘I came off worst in the scrum last weekend,’ he told me, as he pushed his soaked hair away from his face.

  I had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘Rugby,’ he elab
orated. ‘I play rugby for the town.’

  Given his bulk I shouldn’t have been surprised. He really was extraordinarily well built. Almost as broad as he was tall.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, still taking him in. ‘Right.’

  It was a shame to subject a face like his to what was probably a weekly battering. Had it not been for the bumps and bruises he could have been quite handsome, in a rough and ready sort of way.

  ‘Do you want to hop in,’ he said, ‘and we’ll get off. Dolly can’t wait to see you.’

  ‘Yes,’ I blushed, embarrassed to have been caught staring. ‘Thanks.’

  He looked somewhat taken aback as I climbed into the space behind the passenger seat but didn’t say anything. There was no way I was getting in the front. The footwell looked filthy and besides, travelling alone I didn’t feel it was appropriate to sit next to the driver even if Dolly had sent him.

  ‘Are you comfortable back there?’ he asked, his smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle. ‘With any luck,’ he carried on, firing up the engine, turning up the heat and quickly cutting the volume of the radio which blared out, ‘we’ll be in town before it gets dark and you can get a look at the place, even if it is from the back seat. We’re really gearing up for Christmas now.’

  He sounded every bit as excited by the mention of the ‘C’ word as Dolly.

  ‘Oh right,’ I said, rummaging in my bag for some tissues to wipe my face and my phone so I could text Jonathan and let him know I’d almost arrived. ‘Great.’

  From the number of notifications, I could see my other half had been messaging throughout the duration of my journey and I couldn’t help but wish that I had taken up his offer to drive me to Dolly’s. A part of me, a very soggy part, was even wondering if I should have relented about flying out to spend a few days in the sun. I settled back in the seat and began to type a reply as Beamish cranked the radio up again and pulled out of the station.

  The wind had died down a bit by the time we crossed the bridge into town and we weren’t getting quite so buffeted as we had been on the A47. The flat, Fenland horizon had stretched for miles there with little other than the odd farm and occasional tree to ineffectively halt the gusts in their tracks.