A Christmas Wish and a Cranberry Kiss at the Cosy Kettle: A heartwarming, feel good romance

by Liz Eeles

  Dozens of paper streamers are looped across the ceiling, the walls are dripping with fairy lights and Christmas paintings done by me and Jasmine decades ago. No surface remains un-festived.

  But the tree in the corner is undecorated. Jasmine and I glance at each other again. An undecorated tree is an anathema to Mum; a wrong in the universe that needs to be righted immediately with swathes of tinsel and festive tat. But the branches of the tree are bare.

  ‘I put up all the other decorations in the house so I left the tree for your father to decorate, but he hasn’t got around to it yet,’ says Mum, pulling her mouth into a tight line. ‘He’d have to put all the decorations above dog height anyway or Tiny will try to eat them.’

  ‘I’ve been busy, Pauline, as you well know. And I promised that we’d look after the dog until Sid got back so that’s that. Anyway, don’t make a fuss when we’ve got a guest here. Zac, you’d better serve yourself first before the gannets get going.’ Dad takes a seat at the head of the table and pushes a serving dish piled high with crunchy roast potatoes towards my housemate.

  We all get stuck in because Mum’s a great cook. She’s had lots of practice after cooking for us for years. And even Jasmine takes a break from her latest diet to polish off Mum’s roast dinners.

  ‘I’ve got news,’ says Jasmine, taking a second helping of succulent roast lamb, sprinkled with rosemary. ‘I won the new account with Chellingfords and my boss is super-pleased with me.’

  ‘Oh, clever girl, Jasmine, that’s wonderful,’ says Mum, frowning at Dad as he heaps an obscene amount of potatoes onto his plate. ‘We’ve always had every faith in you so I’m not surprised.’

  ‘We’re very proud of you,’ says Dad, spooning a potato onto Jasmine’s plate. ‘Here, have the last potato to celebrate.’

  He’s never given me the last potato. But then I’ve never won a new account with Chellingfords. Urgh, I’m being jealous and ridiculous, and Jasmine has worked hard for her success.

  ‘That’s great, Jazz. Well done,’ I say, as Zac reaches for the gravy in the porcelain gravy boat covered in painted sprigs of holly that comes out every Christmas. ‘How much work will the new account be?’

  ‘Loads because it’s pretty high profile, and there might be some foreign travel involved over the next few months.’

  ‘Fabulous! Where to?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ Jasmine waves a hand, airily. ‘Paris, Madrid, Hamburg, Milan – Chellingfords have offices all over Europe.’

  ‘How wonderful,’ says Mum, pushing the leftover food on her plate into a pile. She hasn’t eaten much. ‘That means you’ll literally be my high-flying, globe-trotting daughter.’

  With mini wish number three in mind, I was going to tell Mum and Dad about how I’ve blinged up The Cosy Kettle. I thought that might make them proud of me. But it all seems rather pathetic compared to Jasmine’s jet-setting achievements, especially bearing in mind my two recent mess-ups, which I definitely wasn’t going to mention. I shovel in a forkful of carrots and decide to stay quiet.

  Jasmine stops dripping mint sauce over her meal and glances at me. ‘Did I tell you I went into the café where Becca works? It’s really cute, and her boss said she’s doing a good job as supervisor.’

  ‘Manager,’ I murmur.

  ‘Becca’s doing a brilliant job,’ says Zac, giving me a smile. He really is a lovely non-boyfriend.

  ‘Tell me, Zac. How long have you two been living together?’ asks Jasmine, using a piece of potato to mop up the gravy on her plate.

  ‘About ten months, isn’t it, Beccs? You moved in last spring.’

  Jasmine gives a ladylike snort. ‘Ten months? You deserve a medal, Zac, for putting up with such a messy housemate. Sharing a room with her when we were little was a nightmare. She drops everything on the floor.’

  Dad laughs beside her and my heart sinks. He and Jasmine get on well and I often feel rather excluded when the two of them get together. Maybe it’s because Jazz is like Dad in many ways, whereas I’m more like Mum.

  ‘Actually,’ I say, in the spirit of assertiveness. ‘That was years ago and I’m not so untidy any more. And we get on really well, don’t we, Zac.’

  ‘We do. Becca’s the tidiest and in fact the best woman I’ve ever lived with.’ He nudges my leg under the table and thankfully doesn’t mention that I’m the only woman he’s ever lived with. His housemates at university were all huge smelly blokes who left half-eaten takeaways on the sofa and rarely changed their socks. Compared to them, I’m a total dream.

  Talk turns to Christmas plans after that and before long the lunch has been demolished and we’re groaning after eating too much. Once the plates have been piled into the kitchen, Jasmine suggests that Dad take Zac out into the back garden to show him his shed. Zac looks vaguely panicked as Dad takes his arm and leads him away, with Tiny following.

  Jasmine and I both offer to help Mum sort out the kitchen, but Jasmine soon grabs her jacket and wanders off into the garden too. This might be the ‘diversion’ she mentioned, so I’d have time alone with Mum, but I can see her laughing with Zac and flicking her head from the kitchen window, as I rinse off the dirty plates.

  I’m just about to ask Mum outright what’s bothering her when she speaks first.

  ‘Zac seems like a nice sensitive young man.’

  ‘He is,’ I say, scraping crispy slivers of roast potato off the baking tray and into my mouth. ‘We muddle along nicely together.’

  ‘And Jasmine’s doing so well in her new job.’ Mum takes a folded tea towel from a drawer and shakes it out.

  ‘Yes, she is. Her new contract sounds very exciting.’

  ‘It must be stressful for her, though, being so high-powered.’

  ‘Probably, but she seems to enjoy it.’

  ‘She’s always been ambitious and high-achieving. Even as a child, we could tell she was destined for great things.’

  ‘Yep, that sounds like Jasmine,’ I say, scraping the last bits from the baking tray into the bin and finding room for it in the dishwasher. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming next.

  ‘And what about you, Becca? What’s going to become of you?’ Mum’s big blue eyes are full of concern. ‘Your dad and I do worry and so want you to be happy.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry because I’m absolutely fine. Honestly.’

  ‘Are you sure? We thought you were fine in Birmingham. You were doing so well in your job and we were so proud and now… well… you’re working in a café in a tiny little town and not using your degree at all.’

  ‘But I’m working hard, I love where I live, and I’m happier, Mum. That counts for something, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Of course.’ Mum pats my shoulder but hanging in the air between us is the tang of disappointment, and my parents’ incomprehension about what happened after university.

  ‘Also,’ I say, remembering my Christmas wish, ‘my life is about to improve. I’m sure of it.’

  Mum is still staring at me, biting her lip, though I’m not sure she’s seeing me at all. I take the tea towel from her, lead her to a kitchen chair and gently push her onto the seat. ‘OK. What’s going on with you, Mum? You don’t seem yourself at the moment.’

  ‘I’m fine, just like you.’

  ‘Really? Jasmine said she saw you crying.’

  A deep crease appears between Mum’s eyebrows. ‘Did she? It’s unfortunate she saw that, and she shouldn’t have told you.’

  ‘Of course she should have told me. I’m your daughter too.’

  ‘I know that but I don’t want to worry you both.’

  ‘Worry us both about what? I’m definitely worried now.’

  ‘It’s nothing. Just me being silly.’

  ‘Tell me.’ I take the seat opposite her and reach across the table for her hand.

  ‘I’m just finding work stressful at the moment.’

  ‘Can’t you change jobs?’

  ‘What, at my time of life? It’s not so easy to switch jobs when yo
u get to my age. I’ve worked in the admin department at Shelleys for ages and that’s where I’ll stay.’

  ‘But isn’t there anything you can do to make your life a bit more…’ I look around the kitchen where Mum spends most of her life when she’s not working. ‘I don’t know… fun?’

  ‘I’d love to. Actually, there’s a…’ She pauses.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘You’ll think I’m being silly.’

  ‘I honestly won’t. Just tell me.’

  Mum takes a deep breath to steady herself. ‘There’s an art course at the local university that’s open to mature students and I’d love to do it. The course is part-time and I’ve got some money left to me by your gran that would cover the cost.’

  ‘Then do it. You’ve got real artistic talent, Mum. Have you applied for the course?’

  ‘I applied last week, on a whim. But it’s pointless. I won’t get in and, even if I did, it’s two full days per week so it’s out of the question.’

  ‘Can’t you go part-time at work?’

  ‘They’d probably go for it because they’re trying to cut costs at the moment. But your dad isn’t keen. He said it was a pipe dream when I told him about the course, and pipe dreams don’t pay the bills. He’d go mad if he knew I’d even applied.’

  ‘But it’s your dream, Mum.’

  ’And a daft one, so that’s that.’ She stands up and plasters a no-nonsense smile onto her face. ‘Pass me those dirty dishes, Becca, and I’ll find room for them. Tell me how things are going in your little café.’

  Little café? I sigh quietly. ‘It’s good, thanks, Mum. Everything’s fine in my little café.’

  Zac suddenly bustles in through the back door, swiftly followed by Jasmine and Dad. Jazz is looking flushed and gorgeous with her scarf wrapped around her head.

  ‘It’s freezing out there,’ she says, giving a tinkly laugh. ‘We almost had to huddle together for warmth, didn’t we, Zac?’

  ‘It was a bit chilly.’ Zac’s nose is bright red with the cold. He glances between me and Mum. ‘Is everything all right in here? Do you need some help?’

  He grabs another tea towel but Mum shoos him away.

  ‘I won’t hear of it. You’re a guest. I hope you enjoyed your lunch.’

  ‘I did. It was the best roast meal I’ve had in ages. Thank you so much, Pauline.’

  Mum beams while Jazz stands behind her and opens her eyes wide at me. I give a slight nod to let her know that the deed has been done, and a discreet thumbs-up to indicate that Mum doesn’t have some terrible illness. But I’m still worried about her and annoyed with Dad for being so negative when all she wants is to do something fun. She needs to stand up for herself – but I know that’s easier said than done.

  We all retire to the sitting room where Jasmine plonks herself next to Zac on the sofa and starts chatting away about her job. Mum and Dad listen with proud smiles on their faces while I sit quietly in the corner, mentally going through my Christmas wish list. There’s a lot to be done – this visit home has only underlined that fact – but what’s the alternative? Watch shyly from the sidelines while Jasmine makes a success of her life, until we’re both old and wrinkled? Actually I can’t imagine my sister with wrinkles – no doubt she’ll age beautifully and I’ll end up with a face like a road map.

  I pull my shoulders back and take a deep breath. Reinventing myself will be hard work but it’s worth putting in the effort now. Then I can spend the rest of my life being more confident, more assertive, more content… more like Jasmine. As if she can read my mind, my sister clutches at Zac’s arm, throws back her head and laughs.

  ‘What did you think of my family, then?’ I ask Zac we pull away from the house.

  Mum is waving from the front door, surrounded by winking fairy lights.

  ‘They’re really nice people,’ he says, turning right very slowly at the end of the street. The road surface is getting icy as afternoon turns to evening and the temperature drops even further.

  ‘Nice is such a fudgy kind of word.’

  Zac glances at me and grins.

  ‘OK, your Mum is lovely and a bit nervy, just like you, and your dad’s a character. He’s quite forceful and a bit bossy to your mum but he was very friendly to me. I think he was just relieved that I wasn’t Cheating Charlie.’

  ‘Yeah, he and Charlie were equally bossy and almost came to blows once.’ I hesitate. ‘And what about Jasmine?’

  ‘She was very friendly too.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  He curses under his breath at a motorist who pulls out of a junction and cuts in front of us.

  ‘And, did you like her?’

  ‘Of course. She’s a bit scary but I liked her very much.’

  ‘What did you like about her?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

  ‘Did you like her… general goldenness?’

  When Zac snorts, the car swerves slightly. ‘Her what?’

  ‘General goldenness. You must have noticed it.’

  ‘I did indeed notice that her colouring is very different from yours. She doesn’t have green eyes and Smurf-blue hair for a start.’

  ‘And?’

  Zac signals left as we reach a T-junction before pulling out slowly. ‘And… blonde hair really suits her.’

  Hmm. Is that bloke code for ‘I fancied the pants off her’? And if he does, what of it? She obviously liked him and, if they end up getting married, he’ll be a member of our family and therefore a part of my life forever. That would be good, wouldn’t it?

  I give my head a shake. I think I’m rather getting ahead of myself here. And who knows what Jasmine thinks of Zac? She does tend to flirt with any bloke who’s not hideous. And Zac is definitely not hideous.

  I steal a glance at him as we drive away from the urban sprawl, back towards the Cotswold Hills, which are dark shapes on the horizon. He’s got a gentle face and smashing eyes and his hair is thick and floppy, and his new glasses really do suit him.

  But he’s not a huge high-flyer, so ambitious Jasmine won’t be interested in him.

  I settle back in my seat, close my eyes and let the gentle thrum of the engine lull me to sleep.

  Eight

  My mobile rings early next morning while I’m rushing round, getting ready for work.

  ‘Hi, Jazz,’ I mumble, toothbrush still in my mouth. ‘Bit busy at the moment. Can I call you back?’

  ‘No need,’ says Jasmine, crisply, down the line. ‘I was just ringing up to see how you thought lunch went yesterday.’

  ‘Pretty well, considering,’ I say, before rinsing my mouth with water and quietly spitting into the basin.

  ‘You spoke to Mum about her being weird, then.’

  ‘I did a bit, while we were in the kitchen. She wants to do an art course at the local uni but it would mean cutting down her work days and Dad’s not keen.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Jasmine breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Honestly, she had me thinking that she might be ill or something.’

  ‘She’s frustrated and sad.’

  ‘Yeah, but she’ll soon cheer up. It’s Christmas.’ Jasmine lowers her voice. ‘Your housemate is hot, by the way.’

  I hesitate, before wiping smears of toothpaste from the corners of my mouth.

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Absolutely. He’s a bit of a nerd but there’s something very attractive about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.’

  ‘He’s kind.’

  ‘Nah, it’s not that. I don’t know. He’s just rather… appealing. He’s got a very nice face, and he’s tall, and he did look good in those jeans.’

  ‘Did he?’ I didn’t really notice, though it’s struck me a few times recently that Zac’s getting more good-looking the older he gets. He’s kind of growing into his body as all traces of the gangly adolescent disappear.

  There’s a pause, then Jasmine asks: ‘Are you sure there’s nothing
going on between you?’

  ‘Between me and Zac?’ I laugh. ‘No, we’re just friends.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t mind if I asked him to come with me to my work’s do just before Christmas? It’s a plus-one event, which is a pain ’cos I’m between boyfriends at the moment, and I don’t want to rock up on my own like a saddo, when I’m so new to the company. Zac was asking me about PR yesterday so I thought he might like to come along. But I don’t want to tread on your toes.’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t be treading on my toes,’ I say, feeling slightly sick. ‘We’re just housemates and good friends.’

  ‘That’s cool, then. I know where he works so I’ll email him there. I’m feeling very go-for-it now I’m in this new job. Actually, I’m in the office at the moment, working on a new proposal for Claire, my boss. Are you at work, too?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ I lie, closing the bathroom door so Jasmine won’t hear Zac swearing. He must have hit his head on a beam. Again. You’d think he’d have learned to duck after living here for months. ‘I had to get in early to…’ Oh dear, I haven’t thought this through. ‘… prioritise the confectionery orders and go over my business plan for the Cosy Kettle Christmas… um, extravaganza.’

  Does that sound like utter rubbish? Jasmine seems to swallow it.

  ‘Cool. Well, you sound busy so I’d better leave you to it. Have fun.’

  She rings off as I hear Zac call up the stairs: ‘Bye, Beccs. Knock ’em dead today.’

  And then the front door bangs.

  I’m not sure how I feel about my sister having the hots for my housemate. I’d convinced myself she was auto-flirting yesterday because she can’t help herself. But if she really does like Zac, what if they hit it off and she starts staying over? What if she starts wafting round looking all ethereal in a negligee and I can hear them getting amorous through the wall? How awkward would that be?

  I’m so distracted on my walk to work, I hardly notice Dick when he yells hello at me from his sports car. And I stride beneath the yellow stone arches of Honeyford’s market house without imagining all the people who have walked there before me over the centuries.