The Christmas Wish List

by Heidi Swain

  ‘Lovely,’ I nodded, not wanting to quash his enthusiasm. ‘Is that a new shop? I don’t think I’ve been in there.’

  ‘It’s quite new,’ he explained, ‘the latest Cherry Tree venture. It’s a gallery and studio for local artists and crafts people. You might want to take a look if you still have Christmas shopping to do.’

  I didn’t tell him that I didn’t have anyone, other than Dolly and Jonathan to shop for and that their presents would be ordered online and delivered direct already gift-wrapped.

  ‘It’s not looking very festive, is it?’ I commented, taking in the rest of the shops. ‘I thought you said Wynbridge was gearing up for Christmas?’

  ‘It is,’ he said, sounding unimpressed by my lack of seasonal spirit, ‘everything’s up but it won’t be lit until tomorrow, will it?’

  ‘Why, what’s happening tomorrow?’

  ‘The town switch-on of course. That’s when it will all kick off properly. Dolly’s absolutely over the moon that you’re here in time to enjoy it with her.’

  ‘Is she now?’ I frowned.

  For a taxi driver, he seemed to know an awful lot about my friend.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘She’s told me she has great plans for the time that you’re going to be staying with her.’

  ‘Do you think we should be getting on?’ I primly suggested.

  I had no desire to hear what Dolly had planned from anyone other than the lady herself. I hoped she hadn’t gone overboard though. She knew I hated a fuss about things as much as she did and that I certainly didn’t share her passion for Christmas these days.

  ‘All right,’ said Beamish, sounding deflated. ‘I’ll take you to the cottage.’

  Located just a short walk from the town, but tucked away enough to feel a part of the nearby countryside, Dolly’s little cottage was not all that dissimilar from the one Kate Winslet owned in The Holiday. I hadn’t seen the festive film myself, but Dolly had shown me a picture and apart from being built and tiled from different local materials it did bear a striking resemblance with the classic covered front door in the centre, a window either side and two above. There were even roses around the wooden arched porch, or there were when the temperature was higher and the weather kinder. The little place always put me in mind of the sort of houses I drew as a child.

  ‘Here we are then,’ said Beamish, jumping out almost before he had pulled on the handbrake. ‘Home sweet home, for the next few weeks at least.’

  He rushed round to open my door and I stepped out.

  ‘Here we are indeed,’ I sighed, suddenly remembering the head bumps I was going to be subjected to until I remembered to duck coming down the stairs and through a couple of the doorways. ‘I’d forgotten how cramped this place is.’

  I wished I didn’t sound so tired and grumpy. This wasn’t the mood I had wanted to arrive in at all, but the journey from hell and the subsequent soaking, added to my recent lack of sleep, had rather taken the edge off my arrival and usually upbeat attitude.

  ‘It’s not cramped,’ said Beamish, justifiably correcting my disparaging tone. ‘It’s cosy.’

  I didn’t have time to say that his was a far kinder and better suited description.

  ‘Here you are!’ Dolly shouted, flinging open the front door but not venturing down the path. ‘Here you are at last. What were you doing sitting in the back? For a minute I thought you hadn’t come!’

  Beamish started to laugh and I left him to deal with my bags.

  ‘Dolly,’ I called, rushing to meet her and feeling my bad mood and some of my tiredness ebb away.

  She opened her arms and I hugged her tight, but not too tight. She felt even smaller than the last time I held her, if that were possible, and she was stick thin.

  ‘How are you, Dolly?’ I asked, noticing her hair was definitely whiter than before.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said releasing me, ‘but I won’t be if we let the cat out. Let’s get inside before she makes a dash for it. Hurry up will you, Beamish!’

  Rather than drop my luggage at the door, he followed us inside, remembering to duck, and deposited my bags at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘What cat?’ I questioned as Beamish quickly closed the front door. ‘You haven’t got a cat, Dolly.’

  ‘I have now,’ she said, indicating a small basket next to the stoked open fire. ‘Come and meet Tiddles. And don’t look so worried, she doesn’t live up to her name.’

  The little tortoiseshell cat was sound asleep. A most unlikely looking scrap to make a bid for freedom.

  ‘Now, I know you aren’t a huge cat fan.’ Dolly said, squeezing my arm.

  That was putting it mildly.

  ‘But I don’t think you really are allergic, are you?’

  ‘Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?’ I said tentatively. ‘But she’s not really yours, is she?’

  ‘She belonged to my old neighbour, Bob,’ Dolly explained. ‘He died a month or so ago and his family refused to give a home to either of his cats so I took on Tiddles.’

  ‘And I took on Tiny, her sister.’ Beamish added.

  He didn’t look like the cat-loving kind to me and there was a certain irony about the name of the puss he had taken on, but I forbore to comment.

  ‘Don’t they mind being apart?’ I asked instead. ‘Tiddles looks pretty ancient to me, doesn’t she mind being away from her sibling?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Beamish, ‘they used to fight all the time. They’re both far happier in separate homes.’

  ‘But it’s such a big commitment,’ I said, turning back to Dolly. ‘What if you want to go on holiday once you’ve properly retired. What’s going to happen to her if you want to leave Wynbridge for a few days?’

  Dolly had been practically tied to the town her entire life and now, just as she had the opportunity to explore fresh horizons and find a new hotel to visit, she’d taken on something else to tether her down.

  ‘Why would anyone ever want to leave Wynbridge?’ Beamish belted out, his booming laugh making Tiddles’ ears twitch.

  He might have been supersized in nature, but he was obviously a local lad with a small-town attitude.

  ‘And who am I going to go and see?’ Dolly asked. ‘You certainly aren’t going to be just a train ride away now, are you, Hattie dear?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Anyway,’ she carried on, ‘now the introductions are over, let’s have some tea, shall we? I’ve baked some scones especially for the occasion.’

  ‘Not for me, thank you, Dolly,’ said Beamish, somehow assuming he’d been included in the party. ‘I still have another job to do this afternoon.’

  It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest that he should give his truck a bit of a clean before he picked up his next fare, but I bit it back. Given our rural location, his next passengers might have been a gaggle of geese for all I knew.

  ‘In that case, let me wrap a couple up for you,’ Dolly insisted, bustling through to her little kitchen. ‘One of each, in case you don’t have time to stop for dinner.’

  He gratefully accepted the greaseproof package of a sweet and savoury scone and ducked back through the front door as a van pulled up outside.

  ‘Welcome back to Wynbridge, Hattie,’ he called to me before he disappeared. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Dolly.’

  The van turned out to be delivering a parcel for Dolly, and a large one at that.

  ‘What on earth could this be?’ She frowned, looking at it suspiciously. ‘I haven’t ordered anything.’

  It turned out to be a beautiful hamper from Fortnum & Mason packed full of delicious treats including tea, coffee, biscuits, chocolates and wine. It was all exquisitely packaged and stylishly presented, as you would expect.

  ‘There’s a note,’ I said to Dolly, handing her the card.

  ‘To dearest Dolly,’ she read aloud, ‘a little something for you and Hattie to enjoy after dinner. With much love, Jonathan.’

  I
looked from the hamper to her and back again.

  ‘Well now,’ she smiled, her cheeks finally gaining a little colour. ‘What a lovely thought.’

  *

  After poring over the hamper contents and devouring Dolly’s delicious but carb-packed afternoon tea, she showed me up to my room which somehow felt smaller than I remembered even though it wasn’t all that long ago that I’d stayed in it. The cream metal-framed bed took up much of the space but there was just enough room for a small wardrobe with drawers beneath, a dressing table and stool, a tiny bookcase and a pair of lamp-topped nightstands.

  ‘I know you love this room,’ said Dolly as she smoothed out the floral-patterned eiderdown and turned on the lamps, which cast a warm and welcoming glow. ‘And I hope you enjoy being back in it.’

  ‘I’m enjoying it already,’ I told her, with a warm smile.

  I still felt bad for labelling the cottage as cramped, even though I had been grumpy, but then I supposed I had gotten used to having so much extra space at the flat I was bound to notice the difference. The wardrobes there were practically of walk-in proportions and the dining table could easily seat eight, not that we ever held dinner parties. Jonathan had always preferred to keep our time together for just the two of us.

  ‘Good,’ Dolly nodded. ‘I’m delighted to hear it and I’m delighted you’ve come. It’s a big day for Wynbridge tomorrow and it will be wonderful to have you with me to enjoy it.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ I said, ‘the switch-on, Beamish did mention it.’

  ‘I know you don’t hold much truck with Christmas, my dear, but I’m still hoping you will enjoy some of our little customs and events. It will be a comfort to know that you carry some of the Wynbridge winter in your heart when you head off on that plane.’

  All of a sudden, I thought I was going to cry. I must have been feeling even more tired and emotional than I realised.

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ I said huskily, before reaching for one of the fluffy towels Dolly had piled on to the end of the bed. ‘Would it be all right if I just have a quick shower to freshen up? I feel a bit grubby after my journey and I still haven’t properly thawed out.’

  ‘Of course,’ she smiled, ‘but it will have to be a bath. I still don’t have a shower. They’ve always struck me as being in too much of a rush.’

  Later that evening I pulled my coat over my dressing gown – a fluffy affair borrowed from my host who was appalled to discover I didn’t have one of my own – and headed down the garden to message Jonathan again. I had barely reached the shelter of the apple trees at the end of the lawn when my phone began to ring.

  ‘Hattie?’ Jonathan called out the second I answered.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness. Are you all right? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours.’

  ‘I told you there’s no signal at the cottage,’ I reminded him. ‘I’ve had to come down the garden and I can’t be long because it’s absolutely freezing.’

  ‘You said you’d let me know when you were in a taxi,’ he said, sounding stressed.

  ‘I did,’ I told him. ‘I did send a text in response to the ones you’d sent me, but it mustn’t have sent for some reason.’

  ‘Oh well,’ he said, letting out a long breath, ‘as long as you’re all right.’

  ‘I am,’ I said, ‘and I’m ever so sorry,’ I added, even though it wasn’t my fault.

  ‘I kept checking the trains and I could see you were most likely caught in some hold-ups.’

  That was putting it mildly, but given that he hadn’t wanted me to use the train in the first place, I didn’t say as much. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, I could have arrived far sooner and far drier.

  ‘It wasn’t too bad,’ I said playing it down, ‘and I’m settled now.’

  ‘That’s all right then,’ Jonathan replied, sounding calmer. ‘So, how’s Dolly? I’ve sent her a present. Has it arrived?’

  ‘It has,’ I told him, ‘and she’s absolutely thrilled with it. It was a really lovely thing to do, Jonathan.’

  ‘I wanted to make amends for questioning her motive for inviting you,’ he said. ‘I know she doesn’t know what I said, but I’ve been feeling bad about it.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘whatever the reason for sending it, she loved it.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘So how are things in Wynbridge? What are your plans for tonight?’

  I didn’t tell him that I had been taken aback by Dolly’s appearance or that she’d arranged to have a taxi pick me up. I didn’t think Jonathan would much appreciate knowing she’d lined up the Fenland equivalent of Dwayne Johnson to rescue me from the typhoon. Not that Beamish looked like The Rock, but he was certainly built like him.

  ‘Much the same as usual,’ I sniffed, jiggling about to stop the blood freezing in my veins. ‘And Dolly’s planned a wild night in for us. She’s warming cups of cocoa as we speak.’

  Jonathan chuckled.

  ‘And she’s lent me one of her fluffy dressing gowns to keep me warm,’ I added, to further boost his mood.

  ‘I’m sorry I got so stressed,’ he apologised. ‘I was just worried about you, that’s all.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, ‘I know you were.’

  I was grateful to have someone in my life who cared for me so much, but I was still planning to quickly end the call and get back indoors before my toes dropped off.

  ‘I’ll feel better once we’ve moved,’ he said brightly. ‘Then I’ll know where you are all the time.’

  I stopped moving, a frown knitting my brows as I let out a long breath and watched it stream away.

  ‘Not all the time, Jonathan,’ I said. ‘You can’t know where I am all the time.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  I wasn’t sure I did, but I was too cold to ask him to explain.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I have to go. It really is freezing out here.’

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll message you when I land and we can talk about how to cut your time there short and maybe even skype for a bit later in the week?’ he added hopefully.

  ‘That will depend on the signal,’ I reminded him, glossing over the part about leaving Dolly earlier than planned. Now I’d had eyes on her, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I should never have suggested it. ‘Have a safe flight and we’ll definitely talk again soon.’

  ‘Definitely,’ he said, ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ I said back, racing up the path towards the warmth of the kitchen. ‘And thank you for sending that hamper, Jonathan. Dolly really loved it.’

  Chapter 4

  When I went to bed that evening, I had absolutely no expectations that I would fall asleep. I’d been struggling to get any real rest since the day I discovered I was surplus to requirements at the hotel and when I did manage to nod off, my downtime was filled with odd dreams of deserts and being abandoned on unfamiliar shores.

  However, the soft, deep mattress on Dolly’s spare bed and the sound of the crackling fire in the sitting room below must have worked some magic and I was surprised to see a little daylight peeping around the curtains the next time I opened my eyes.

  In fact, I think I would have carried on sleeping were it not for a persistent tapping sound outside the bedroom window and the old familiar weight on my chest, which had also been present since Friday the thirteenth of September.

  ‘What on earth,’ I gasped, as I struggled to sit up in the bed.

  The weight was even heavier than usual and as I began to move it started to purr.

  ‘Tiddles,’ I groaned. ‘What are you doing up here?’

  The little cat was heavier than you would think at a dead weight and she was incredibly reluctant to move. I managed to carefully push her to one side without eliciting a hiss, actually, she didn’t even open her eyes so I couldn’t be sure she was even conscious, and then swung my legs out of the bed as the tapping grew louder.

  Annoyed to have my first peaceful sleep in weeks ruined, I rattled th
e curtains along their pole and flung open the window to seek out the source of the noise.

  ‘Oh, fuck me!’ Were the first words I heard as I launched myself forward and with one hand caught hold of the top of the ladder I had just sent flying, with a very startled looking Beamish balanced near the top of it.

  I clung to his wrist and between us we pulled the ladder back so it was resting just underneath the ledge of my window.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he gasped, breathing heavily and shaking his head as he peered down at the frost-encrusted ground below. ‘I thought I was a goner there for a minute.’

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. It was all I could do to stop my heart from hammering out of my chest.

  ‘Good morning, Hattie,’ he said, turning his attention back to me. ‘Did I wake you?’

  We both looked down at his wrist which I still had hold of.

  ‘You can let go now,’ he winked.

  I dropped him like a hot stone and took a step back. He had regained his composure far faster than I had.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I demanded. ‘It’s . . .’ I looked around for my phone to check the time but couldn’t see it. ‘Well, it’s too early to be banging and crashing about outside someone’s bedroom window on a Saturday morning.’

  ‘It’s half eight,’ he informed me. ‘And I was only banging, you would have been the one responsible for the crashing, had you pitched me off completely.’

  I put my hand over my mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ he said, raising his eyebrows.

  His comment made me laugh all the more. I had no idea what had come over me.

  ‘I know,’ I said, clearing my throat. ‘I’m so sorry. I think it’s the shock.’

  ‘Anyway,’ he went on, now wearing a smile which matched my own. ‘I would have had you down as an early riser. One of those running before work types with a neon vest and a Fitbit strapped to your wrist.’

  I bit my lip to stop myself from telling him I’d forgotten to pack my Fitbit and realised I wasn’t the only one capable of making assumptions. The truth was, I did used to run before my shift at the hotel, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of telling him that, was I? The next thing I knew, he’d be quashing my small-town lad theory.