by Heidi Swain
‘I know I’m right,’ he said, looking straight at me, ‘and I know this is none of my business, but Dolly mentioned that you don’t talk to your parents.’
I sat back in my seat. Ever since he’d told me what had happened to bring him back to his hometown, I’d been thinking about Dolly’s addition to the Wish List; that she wanted me to get in touch with Mum and Dad.
‘She’s right,’ I said, ‘I don’t.’
‘Then you should,’ he said. His voice was firm but tender. ‘Don’t be too proud to be the one to make the first move, Hattie. Make the most of the little time you have left to see them before you board that plane.’
‘You make it sound so simple,’ I said huskily, ‘but it’s anything but. They broke my heart, you see. They interfered in my life and I ended up losing something very precious as a result.’
I don’t know why I told him that, but I was grateful that he didn’t ask what it was.
‘Were you very young?’
I wasn’t sure if he was guessing or if Dolly had told him more than she should.
‘Does that matter?’
‘It might well have had a bearing on their actions,’ he said softly. ‘If they thought you were heading for trouble then surely it would have been remiss of them not to step in.’
‘I suppose,’ I conceded.
I could appreciate that Beamish was trying to make a reunion sound like the easiest thing in the world, but he didn’t know the full story. If he knew everything, he wouldn’t even be suggesting it.
After the crisis I had moved out of home and into the hotel and miraculously, thanks to Dolly and her gentle advice and words of wisdom, our relationship had just about survived. Had it not been for my friend’s subtle coaxing I was certain I would have snipped that fragile thread which attached me to my parents the day I moved out.
However, for a while and with Dolly’s help, things were bearable. With the benefit of time, I could almost understand why they had done what they did, even if I couldn’t come to terms with the outcome. There had even been a time when I believed that a proper reconciliation might be possible, but then I started seeing Jonathan and things went downhill almost from the moment I told him what had happened to make me leave home.
In the end, I had to accept that my parents and I would be better apart and made Jonathan go and tell them what I couldn’t bring myself to say. He returned with a response so shocking that it blew my world apart. I had begged Dolly never to mention them again and she had kept her word until the move to Abu Dhabi was thrown into the mix.
Beamish looked poised to say something else, but I cut him off.
‘It really is all much more complicated than you can possibly know,’ I said quickly, thinking of how Jonathan had struggled to tell me what my parents had said. ‘Do you mind if we change the subject?’
‘I’m sorry, Hattie,’ Beamish frowned. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘I know.’
‘But please,’ he said urgently, this time his hand reaching out for mine, ‘please don’t let past grievances mess up your future happiness.’
I squeezed his hand and nodded as I realised that I had found it surprisingly easy to talk to the man I barely knew sitting opposite me. It felt like he was fast becoming a firm new friend.
Chapter 7
That afternoon, sitting in Dolly’s cottage waiting for three o’clock, with Tiddles in her basket next to the fire, I shut out all thoughts of how touching Beamish had made my skin tingle and focused instead on my parents. Not the grievances and rows of my tempestuous teenage years, but the time before that, the special moments; birthdays, holidays and bedtime stories. All the time my life had been busy, filled with either shifts at the hotel or with Jonathan, it had been easier to brush those memories to one side, but it wasn’t like that in Wynbridge.
I had hardly been back in the town any time at all before I had realised just how different the priorities here were. Family, friendship and a strong sense of community were more important than anything else to the folk I had met and I wondered if Dolly and Beamish were right – should I let Mum and Dad know where my life was taking me?
Given what they had told Jonathan a part of me believed they didn’t deserve to know but, the thought of ending up like Beamish, unable to resolve anything because it had been left too late, made my eyes sting with tears. In spite of knowing what Mum and Dad had said, would I be able to comfortably carry the guilt of not even trying to make things, if not completely better, then bearable, when I had the chance?
I jumped up as my heart began to race. This dramatic realisation was a shock, I had always been adamant that I would never talk to them again, but the anguish in Beamish’s eyes and hearing him talk about his own dreadful experiences had given me a jolt and I knew I had to try. I would send the Christmas card of reconciliation that Dolly had suggested and see what happened.
I glanced up at the clock. It was almost time to head back to school to find out what festive fate awaited me. I grabbed my coat and was just reaching for the door when my phone struck up again. I stayed rooted to the spot for fear of losing the signal.
‘Hattie?’
‘Jonathan.’
‘Oh my god,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages! The signal in that place really is rubbish, isn’t it?’
‘I know,’ I said, feeling guilty that I had ignored his earlier call. ‘I’m sorry. Did you get my last text?’
‘Possibly,’ he said. ‘I think so. They’ve been arriving out of sync, but never mind.’
‘Have you seen the apartments yet?’
‘No, not yet, but I’m going to later.’ I could tell he was smiling. ‘I wish you were here to view them with me, but I’ll send lots more photos.’
‘That will be great,’ I told him, but I wasn’t filled with the same excitement about it all as I had been before.
I guessed that was because of the distance between us and I couldn’t help wishing that I could be in two places at once. It would have been lovely to see our future home together for the first time, but further photos would have to do.
‘Are you all right?’ Jonathan asked. ‘You sound a little preoccupied.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ I said, trying to sound brighter. ‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.’
‘Like what? You’re supposed to be on holiday, Hattie! Although how you can call a visit to Wynbridge a holiday is beyond me. I still think you should have flown out with me, if only to see the apartment—’
‘I’ve been contemplating a few things I want to sort out before the move,’ I interrupted, thinking now was as good a time as any to broach the issue.
‘Such as?’
‘All sorts really,’ I swallowed as my heart began to skitter again, ‘family stuff.’
‘What family stuff?’ Jonathan asked sharply.
I could sense his smile had slipped and hear the frown in his tone. With just those two words I’d managed to knock his excitement about the apartment straight out of him.
‘Well,’ I swallowed again. ‘Things with Mum and Dad. I’ve been thinking it perhaps wouldn’t be a bad idea . . .’
‘Is this Dolly’s doing?’ he snapped, the line crackling. ‘Has she been putting ideas in your head?’
‘No,’ I lied, ‘of course not.’
‘Really?’
‘It wasn’t Dolly.’ I told him, which was almost true. It had been a combination of her and Beamish.
‘Who then?’ Jonathan demanded. ‘I know you wouldn’t even be thinking about this if someone hadn’t suggested it. It’s private, Hattie. Nothing to do with anyone else.’
Given that I hadn’t felt able mention that Beamish had picked me up from the train station when I arrived, I certainly couldn’t now say that I had been sitting in a café chatting with him over a coffee and a festive biscuit, could I? Jonathan didn’t always have the best reaction to my interactions with other men, even though they were completely platonic
, and that was most likely why I’d kept quiet, only now my silence about Dolly’s right-hand man had landed me in hot water.
‘Was it that Rose?’ Jonathan barked. ‘That teacher from Dolly’s school?’
‘Yes,’ I said, clinging to her name and feeling amazed that Jonathan had remembered it. ‘It was Rose and I’m sorry.’ I added. ‘Forget I said anything. I just got a bit carried away what with it being almost Christmas and everything.’
He didn’t say anything.
‘Are you still there?’ I asked quietly.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’m still here, but I have to go. I have to meet the agent. I wish more than ever that you were here with me now.’
‘Me too,’ I admitted. ‘And I’m sorry we’ve spent our time arguing over this.’
‘So am I,’ he agreed. ‘I do appreciate that you have a lot to think about ahead of this move, Hattie, but please try to stick to the important stuff.’
Now they were back in my head, my parents were the important stuff, but I didn’t want to fire him up again.
‘I will,’ I promised. ‘Sorry,’ I said again.
‘And I’m sorry too,’
‘What are you sorry for?’
‘Accusing Dolly of interfering in things,’ he tutted. ‘I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.’
That made me feel even worse.
‘But I do love you, Hattie,’ he went on. ‘I love you more than anything and I just want our lives here to be perfect. I’m trying to make this transition as smooth as possible but it’s hard bloody work.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I know. And I hate the fact that there’s nothing I can do. I feel so helpless.’
‘There’ll be plenty for you to do when you get here,’ he told me. ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll be expecting you to keep me in ironed shirts, remember?’
‘Yes,’ I laughed, thinking back to our conversation about his own mother. ‘I remember.’
‘Now,’ he said, ‘I really must go. I’ll send you the photos when I can and I’ll call again soon, OK?’
‘OK.’
‘Love you.’
‘I love you too.’
As I walked back to the school, I tried to banish the unexpected excitement which had started to build around the prospect of getting back in touch with my parents. Talking to Jonathan had been a timely reminder that he had been the poor soul charged with delivering their poisonous message. Perhaps sending the card wasn’t such an inspired idea after all?
*
While the staff were finishing up for the day, I familiarised myself with the relevant updated school policies and then, after further deliberation, it was decided that I would be best placed in the year two class where the teaching assistant, Mrs Newton, now spent quite a lot of her time looking after the new child Mr Matthews had mentioned who had diabetes.
The class teacher, who I hadn’t met before, was called Mr Patterson and he was thrilled to have an extra person to help out, especially as there was a lot left to do in preparation for the school fair which was happening at the end of the week. In fact, I soon discovered, there was everything left to do.
‘I can turn my hand to most things,’ Mr Patterson told me, ‘but baking isn’t my strong point and I still haven’t got a clue about the craft project. Each child has to make something unique to them so the parents will be keen to buy it, but I seem to have run out of ideas and Mrs Newton has been so busy she hasn’t had a chance to give it much thought.’
The poor man looked frazzled and I quickly scanned the sheet on the staffroom wall to get an idea of what each of the other classes were doing.
‘No one’s put down stained glass biscuits.’ I noticed. They had been a firm favourite when I was at school. ‘They’re ever so easy to make. Each child could make three or four and we could bag them up and name them so the parents would get roped in to buying those as well as the craft item.’
Mr Patterson grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled the suggestion in the gap next to Dragonfly class.
‘You better call me Paul,’ he smiled, looking happier already.
‘All right, Paul,’ I smiled back. ‘How about, before I go home with Dolly, I have a quick look at some simple Christmas tree decorations online? I can’t do it at the cottage because Dolly doesn’t have Wi-Fi and I still haven’t found a reliable phone signal hotspot.’
Given the look of relief on his face you could have been forgiven for thinking that his Christmas had come early.
‘That would be wonderful,’ he sighed. ‘I’m also the music teacher,’ he added, no doubt feeling the need to justify the fact that things had been left a little late, ‘so as well as organising my own class, I’m responsible for the carol concert at the church and some of the music for the school performance.’
I wasn’t at all surprised it was all a bit much and I was already feeling pleased that Rose and Dolly had coerced me into helping out.
‘Well,’ I told him, ‘don’t worry about things for the fair. I’m sure I can pick up what we need in town before I come in tomorrow and then we could make a start first thing in the morning.’
‘Brilliant,’ he said, pushing his glasses back into place, ‘absolutely brilliant.’
*
Dolly was delighted that I had been officially teamed with Paul Patterson and loved the tree decorations I had come up with.
‘What a clever idea, including each child’s photo,’ she nodded, when I showed her the sheets of instructions I had printed off. ‘The parents won’t be able to resist these.’
‘I hope not.’
‘You’re a clever girl, Hattie.’ She told me. ‘A natural at this sort of thing.’
I had to admit, it had been fun trying to decide what would work best. In the end I had opted for, with Paul’s approval of course, a simple tree bauble made out of card. The round shape was plain at the back so the children could decorate it however they chose, but the front had a circle cut out so a photograph could be inserted. I planned to give the children paper hats to wear and while they were designing and decorating, I would photograph them all individually. I would then add sticky back plastic to protect the photo and assemble them once the glitter and sequin creations had dried. A hole punched in the top with some ribbon threaded through would make them easy to hang.
‘You know,’ said Dolly thoughtfully. ‘I have a spare Christmas tree in the loft. It’s a bit sparse in places, but you could set that up in the hall and hang the baubles for the parents to find.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ I agreed, imagining how lovely it would look. ‘I could even hang the bags of biscuits on there too, couldn’t I?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Dolly. ‘I rather wish I’d thought of that myself now.’
*
The crafts and bakes I had come up with might have been the simplest I could find, but eighteen excited six- and seven-year-olds soon added their own brand of creativity, tantrums and styling into the mix and by the end of Thursday I was absolutely exhausted.
The crafting had happened in class en masse, and took up most of Tuesday, but the biscuits were baked in batches on the Wednesday and Thursday, with Mr Patterson selecting groups of four or five, depending on ability, attitude and whether they were needed in the hall for play rehearsals, to come down to the kitchen with me and Mrs Newton.
‘I have to say,’ she said as I helped one little lad pick out which sweets to add to his biscuits, ‘you seem to have a bit of a knack for this, Hattie.’
‘Do you think so?’
Dolly had already told me as much, but it was flattering to hear it from someone else.
‘Definitely,’ she said. ‘During my first week, I went home in tears most days, but you’ve taken to it all like a duck to water.’
‘Well,’ I said, not wanting to let her praise go to my head. ‘I have volunteered before, haven’t I? I did have an idea about what I was letting myself in for.’
‘But it’s Christmas,’ she said, deftly ste
pping in to stop an argument over the last red sweet, ‘it’s in a league of its own, isn’t it?’
I didn’t have the chance to answer as Beamish stuck his head around the door, inhaling theatrically.
‘Haven’t you finished baking my biscuits yet?’ he asked the children. ‘This lovely smell wafting through the school is making my belly rumble.’
‘They’re not for you!’ the group bellowed, and not for the first time. ‘These are all for us!’
They seemed to take great relish in seeing his face drop, especially when he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.
‘And what’s the state of that classroom floor like this afternoon?’ he asked Mrs Newton. ‘I hope you haven’t let Hattie loose with the glitter tub again.’
There had been an unfortunate incident with the highly coveted tub of gold glitter the day before, but personally I thought the carpet looked a little more festive with a sparkly dusting.
‘It’s immaculate,’ said Mrs Newton.
‘Well, almost,’ I laughed.
‘There’s a delivery for you in the staffroom, Hattie,’ Beamish then told me.
‘A delivery?’
‘Yep, and given the size of it, I think I’d better run you and Dolly home in the truck tonight.’
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘right.’
I had no idea what it could be. I hadn’t ordered anything online and even if I had I would have arranged for delivery to Dolly’s, not the school.
‘I’m intrigued now,’ I frowned.
‘I thought you might be,’ Beamish grinned. ‘By the way, you are still all set for tonight, aren’t you?’
‘Tonight?’
‘Late-night shopping,’ he reminded me. ‘First of the month and we promised Dolly we’d drive round and see the lights, remember?’
‘Of course,’ I fibbed, only now remembering those two particular things she had added to the Wish List.
In my tired-out state, all I had earmarked for the evening was a long hot soak and an early night in preparation for the school fair the next afternoon, but as ever, Dolly and Beamish had other ideas. At least I could tick the Christmas lights tour off the Wish List and looking at the tray of cooling biscuits lined up on the table, I could probably strike out festive baking too. I wasn’t sure if Dolly realised it but so far, her plan to make me fall back in love with Christmas had felt like jolly hard work.
