‘I’m glad you kept it. She has excellent taste.’ Flora obviously approved wholeheartedly. ‘I hear that Ted Mackie’s acquired an ice unicorn...’
Aksel wondered if she really hadn’t been to see it, or she was just teasing. ‘Has he?’ He decided to play things cool.
‘It’s beautiful. I have about a million pictures of it.’ She stood on her toes, kissing his cheek so briefly that he only realised she’d done it after the fact. ‘Thank you.’
His cheek tingled from the touch of her lips as he followed Flora into the sitting room, where Mette was playing with Kari. Aksel decided that the hours spent sculpting the unicorn had been well worth it, and that he’d be tempted to create a whole menagerie of fantastic creatures in exchange for one more fleeting kiss.
It was agreed that they would walk down to the marketplace to see the village Christmas tree and the Christmas market. Aksel called Kari, putting on the yellow vest that denoted that she was at work now.
‘Mette’s already using Kari as her assistance dog?’
‘No, but Esme suggested that it might be a good idea to let her see her at work a bit, just to get her used to the idea. Where’s Dougal?’
‘I took him up to the therapy centre, they’re minding him. I didn’t want him to get under Mette’s feet.’ Flora took a green and red striped bobble hat from the pocket of her red coat, pulling it down over her ears, and Aksel chuckled. She looked delightful.
‘What are you? One of Santa’s elves?’
‘Right in one.’ She shot him an innocent look, tugging at the hat. ‘What gave me away?’
CHAPTER TEN
CLUCHLOCHRY’S MARKET SQUARE was paved with cobblestones, and boasted an old market cross, worn and battered by many winters. The market was already in full swing, with fairy lights hung around the canvas-topped stalls, and the village Christmas tree standing proudly in one corner, smothered in lights. As this was a Saturday morning, carol singers and a band had turned out to give the market a festive air.
The band struck up a melody that Mette recognised, and she started to sing along in Norwegian. Aksel lifted her up out of the crush of people, and heard Flora singing too, in English. At the end of the carol she joined in with the round of applause for the band, and Mette flung her arms up, wriggling with delight.
‘Shall we go over to the village hall first?’ Flora indicated a stone building next to the church. ‘There are lots of stalls in there as well.’
Aksel nodded his agreement, and Flora led the way, while he followed with Mette. Kari trotted by her side, and every now and then the little girl held out her hand, putting it on Kari’s back. It was a start. Soon, hopefully, Mette would be learning to rely on Kari to guide her.
Inside, it looked as if there had been some kind of competition between the stallholders to see who could get the most Christmas decorations into their allotted space. Aksel saw a large reindeer twinkling above one of them, and decided not to point it out to Mette, in case she wanted to take it home with her.
‘Oh, look.’ Flora had caught sight of yet another stall that she wanted to visit. ‘I heard that Aileen was here, we should go and see her knitwear. She might have something that Mette would like.’
Aksel nodded his agreement, and Flora led him over to the stall, introducing him to Aileen Sinclair, an older woman with greying hair, confiding the information that Aileen was Lyle’s mother and that she did a lot of knitting. That was self-evident from the racks of hats and scarves, and the sweaters laid out on two tables. Aileen smiled at him, sizing him up with an experienced eye.
‘I don’t know whether I can find anything to fit you, hen.’ Aileen seemed willing to try all the same, sorting through a small pile of chunky cableknit sweaters. ‘No, there isn’t much call for extra-large, and Mrs Bell bought the last one for her son. If there’s something you like, we can always make it up for you.’
‘Thank you.’ Aksel began to dutifully look through the sweaters. ‘Actually, we were looking for something for my daughter.’
Flora lifted Mette up so that she could run her hand across the fine, lace knitted children’s jumpers. Aileen greeted Mette with another of her beaming smiles, producing a tape measure from her pocket, and began to measure Mette’s arms.
‘What colour do you like, Mette?’ Flora always asked Mette what she liked rather than suggesting things to her.
‘Red.’ Mette had caught sight of Aileen’s bright red sweater, under her coat.
‘Very good choice. Maybe a lacy one?’ Aileen glanced at Flora and she nodded.
Piles of sweaters were looked through, knocked over and then re-stacked, in what looked like a completely arbitrary search. Finally three pretty sweaters, which looked to be around Mette’s size, were laid out on top of the others.
‘What do you think, Aksel?’ Flora turned to him questioningly.
‘They’re all very nice.’ Aksel wasn’t prepared to commit himself any further than that and Flora frowned at him.
‘You’re no help.’
‘Everyone should stick to what they’re good at.’ And Flora was very good at shopping. She always seemed to pick out the nicest things, buying the best she could afford and yet not over-spending. That was why she always looked immaculate.
He watched as Flora encouraged Mette to run her hand across each of the sweaters to feel their softness and warmth. She picked one, and Flora unzipped her coat so that Aileen could hold it up against her and make sure it fitted properly. The general consensus of opinion seemed to be that this was the perfect sweater, and Aksel reached into his pocket for his wallet.
He was too slow. As Aileen wrapped the sweater carefully in pretty paper, sticky-taping the ends down, Flora had whipped a note from her purse and handed it over.
‘Thank you. I’ll get your change.’ Aileen plumped the package into a paper carrier bag and gave it to Mette.
‘Don’t worry about the change, Aileen. You don’t charge enough for these already, I still have the one I bought from you three years ago. You’d make a lot more money if you didn’t make them to last.’
Aileen flushed with pleasure. The sweaters were clearly more a labour of love than a money-making exercise.
Mette whirled around, eager to show Aksel her carrier bag, and Flora caught her before she lost her balance. He examined the bag, declared it wonderful, and Aileen bade them a cheery goodbye.
Then it was on to the other stalls. Flora was endlessly patient, letting Mette sniff each one of the home-made soaps on offer and choose the one she liked the best. The avuncular man at the fudge stall offered them some samples to taste, and Aksel was allowed to make the choice of which to buy. The indoor market was a whirl of colours, tastes, textures and smells, and Aksel found himself enjoying it as much as Mette obviously was.
‘Are you hungry yet?’ Flora clearly was or she wouldn’t have asked the question. ‘There’s a pub on the other side of the green that serves family lunches whenever the market’s open.’
A family lunch. That sounded good, and not just because Aksel was hungry too. He could really get used to this feeling of belonging, with both Mette and Flora.
‘Good idea. They won’t mind us taking Kari in?’ Despite her yellow service coat, Kari wasn’t working as Mette’s assistance dog just yet.
‘No, of course not. They’re used to people coming in with dogs from the canine therapy centre, and they welcome them.’
Flora managed to find a table close to one of the roaring fires, and while she stripped off Mette’s coat, Aksel went to the bar, ordering thick vegetable soup with crusty bread, and two glasses of Christmas punch. When he returned with the tray, Mette and Flora were investigating their purchases together. This seemed to be an integral part of the shopping experience, and Mette was copying Flora, inserting her finger into the corner of each package so that they could catch a glimpse of what was inside.
‘Why don’t you open them?’ Aksel began to clear a space on the table between them, and Flora shot him a horrified look.
‘Hush! We can’t open them until we get home.’
‘Ah. All right.’ Aksel found that the thought of Flora and Mette spreading out their purchases for a second and more thorough inspection was just as enticing as this was. This complex ritual was more than just going out and shopping for something that met your needs. It was about bonding and sharing, and the excitement of finding a sweater that was the right colour and design, and fitted perfectly.
He was learning that there were many things he could share with Mette, and wondered if this would ever be one of them. At the moment, it seemed an impossible set of rules and conventions, which were as complicated as any he’d seen on his travels. It occurred to him that Mette really needed a mother, and the thought wasn’t as difficult to come to terms with as it had been. He could be a good father, without having to do everything himself.
Flora and Mette were whispering together, and he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the swell of conversation around them. Then Flora turned to him, her eyes shining.
‘We’re giving you ten out of ten. Possibly ten and a half.’
That sounded great, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it. ‘What for?’
‘For being our ideal shopping companion.’ Flora didn’t seem disposed to break the score down, but Mette had no such reservations.
‘Because you carry the bags, Papa. And you don’t rush, and you buy soup. And fudge.’
Aksel hadn’t realised that this could cause him so much pride. And pleasure. ‘Thank you. I’m...honoured.’
Mette gave him a nod, which said that he was quite right to feel that way, having been given such an accolade. Flora smiled, and suddenly his whole world became warm and full of sparkle.
‘The Christmas tableau will be open by the time we’ve finished. And then I’d like to pop over to Mary’s stall if you don’t mind. I heard she has some nice little things for Christmas gifts.’
‘That sounds great. I’d like that.’ He wasn’t quite sure what a Christmas tableau was, but he’d go with the flow. Aksel leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out towards the fire. Making sense of the proceedings didn’t much matter, he’d been voted ten out of ten as a shopping companion, and that was a great deal more than good enough.
* * *
The Christmas tableau turned out to be housed in a three-sided wooden structure outside the church. Inside were Mary and Joseph, an assortment of shepherds and three kings, along with one of the dogs from the therapy centre. Aksel wasn’t quite sure how it had ended up there, but he assumed its presence had something to do with Esme, and that she’d probably had a hand in choosing its festive, red and white dog coat.
‘Mette!’ As they opened the gate to the churchyard, the shortest and broadest of the three kings started to wave, handing a jewelled box to one of the other kings and ducking past the crowd that was forming around the tableau.
Mette turned her head, recognising the voice, and tugged at Aksel’s hand. ‘It’s Carrie. Where is she?’
It was the first time that Aksel had heard Mette say anything like that. Usually she ignored the things she couldn’t see, and she’d been known to throw a temper tantrum when she couldn’t find something she wanted.
‘She’s coming over to you now, sweetheart.’ Flora volunteered the information, and Mette nodded. Now that the king was a little closer, he realised it was Carrie, one of the children’s nurses from the clinic, and almost unrecognisable under a false beard and a large jewelled hat. Her small frame was completely disguised by what looked like several layers of bulky clothes under her costume.
‘Hi, Carrie. Keeping warm?’ Flora grinned at her.
‘I’m a bit hot, actually.’ Carrie pushed her beard up, propping it incongruously on the rim of her hat, and bent down to greet Mette. ‘The costume was a bit big so I’ve got two coats on underneath this. Along with a thick sweater and thermal underwear.’
‘Sounds reasonable to me. You’ve got a couple of hours out here. The shepherds are already looking a bit chilly.’
‘Don’t worry about them. The vicar’s brought a couple of Thermos flasks along, and we’ve got an outdoor heater behind the manger, that’s why everyone’s crowding around it. You’d be surprised how warm it gets after a while.’ Carrie volunteered the information and Flora laughed.
‘That’s good to know. I’ll make sure I’m standing next to the heater when it’s my turn.’
It was impossible that Flora wouldn’t take a turn, she was so much a part of the life of the village. Aksel wondered what she’d be dressing up as and decided to wait and see.
‘Would you like to come and see the stable, Mette?’ Carrie bent down towards her. ‘We’ve got a rabbit...’
‘Yes, please.’ Mette took her hand, waving to Aksel as Carrie led her away.
‘A rabbit?’ Aksel murmured the words as he watched her go.
‘The vicar’s not afraid to improvise, and I don’t think there were any sheep available.’ Flora chuckled. ‘And anyway, don’t you think it’s the best stable you’ve ever seen?’
It was. The costumes were great, and there was a sturdy manger and lots of straw. A couple of other children, besides Mette, had been led up to the tableau by their parents, and had been welcomed inside by the shepherds and kings. Carrie was carefully showing Mette around, talking to her and allowing her to touch everything. The place shone with sparkling lights to re-create stars, and the warmth and love of a small community.
‘Yes. The very best.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AKSEL WAS RELAXED and smiling as they watched Mette explore the stable with Carrie. So different from the man Flora had first met. The clinic tended to do that to patients and their families. Flora had seen so many people arrive looking tense and afraid, and had watched the secure and welcoming environment soothe their fears and allow them to begin to move forward. It was always good to see, but she’d never been so happy about it as she was now.
It was hard not to wonder what things might have been like if she and Aksel had met before they’d both been changed by the world. Whether they might have been able to make a family for more than just the space of a day. But for all the hope that the clinic brought to people’s hearts, there was also the understanding that some things couldn’t be changed, and it was necessary to make the best of them. She should enjoy today for what it was, and let it go.
Carrie delivered Mette back to her father, and she chattered brightly about having seen the rabbit and stroked it, as they walked towards Mary’s stall. It was a riot of colour. Along with a few small quilts, there were fabric bags, with appliquéd flowers, patchwork lavender bags tied with ribbon, and quilted hats with earflaps. Mary was, unusually, not in the thick of things but sitting on a rickety stool and leaving her husband and Jackie, the young mum who helped out in the shop on Saturdays, to deal with the customers.
Flora greeted her with a smile. ‘Hello, Mary. It’s cold enough out here...’
Mary was sitting with her hands in her pockets, and her woollen hat pulled down over her ears and brow. Most of the stallholders prided themselves on being out in all weather, however cold, but maybe Mary should consider going into the pub for a while to get warm.
Mary nodded, her expression one of deep thought.
‘These look wonderful.’ Flora indicated the lavender bags and Aksel hoisted Mette up so she could smell them. ‘How much are they?’
Mary smiled suddenly. ‘Thruppence.’
Okay.... Flora had never heard of thruppenny lavender bags being a thing, but there were three in each bundle. They’d be tagged with a price anyway. Mary went back to staring in her husband’s direction and Flora wondered if maybe they’d had an argument about something.
Hats were tried
on, lavender sniffed, and the fabric bags admired. They found a hat for Mette, its bright reds and greens matching her coat, and Aksel encouraged Flora to treat herself to one of the fabric bags. It would be perfect for carrying some of the smaller items that she used most regularly in the course of her job, and it would be nice to visit the residents at the sheltered living complex carrying a bag that didn’t scream that it was medical.
Mary smiled at her, and Flora put the bag and the hat down in front of her. ‘I’d like to take these, Mary.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Mary sprang to her feet. ‘The hat’s for...the little girl.’
It was unlike Mary to forget a name. ‘Yes, it’s for Mette.’
‘Of course. Red.’ Mary stared at the hat and then seemed to come to her senses. ‘That’s two pounds for the hat, plus three and fourpence for the bag. Fourteen and six altogether, dear.’
Mary held out her hand to receive the money. Something was very wrong. Flora leaned across, studying her face in the reflection of the fairy lights above their heads.
‘Are you all right, Mary?’
‘I just have a bit of a headache, dear. How much did I say it was?’
Mary wasn’t all right. Flora glanced at Aksel and saw concern on his face too. Even if he didn’t follow the vagaries of pounds, shillings and pence, it was obvious that Mary was confused and calculating the bill in coins that had been obsolete for almost fifty years.
Flora squeezed around the edge of the stall, taking Mary’s hand. It felt ice-cold in hers. ‘Mary, can you sit down for me, please?’
‘No, dear.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Mary’s husband, John, had left the customer he was serving and come over to see what was happening.
‘I don’t know. Mary doesn’t seem well, has she hit her head or anything recently?’
Festive Fling with the Single Dad Page 10
