The Christmas Wish List

by Heidi Swain

  ‘Crikey,’ said Beamish, draining his glass of Coke.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he shrugged. ‘Fancy another?’

  I watched him chatting to some of the other customers while he waited to get served. He was the perfect fit for the place, and I didn’t just mean the pub. Beamish was the ideal fit for Wynbridge. I hoped I would look even half as at home in Abu Dhabi after I’d had time to settle in.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking about this again,’ Beamish said when he came back, ‘but have you given any more thought to getting back in touch with your parents?’

  He was certainly full of questions and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent so long talking about myself.

  ‘I have,’ I told him, wholeheartedly wishing that was the one question he hadn’t asked, ‘and I’m not going to.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m not going to go into it all,’ I went on, ‘but like I told you before, it’s a whole lot more complicated than you know and I just don’t think contacting them now would be the right thing to do. I know you said you have regrets, but . . .’

  ‘But my situation was complicated too,’ he cut in. ‘And it’s the fact that I didn’t work through those complications when I had the chance that make my regrets even harder to live with.’

  ‘Complicated in what way?’

  Beamish bit his lip.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘you don’t have to answer that.’

  It was hardly fair that I should expect him to explain his situation to me when I had just told him I wasn’t prepared to go into the details of mine.

  ‘My father was a monster,’ he shocked me by saying. ‘He was a manipulative bully who made my mother’s life an absolute misery.’

  ‘Oh god, Beamish . . .’

  ‘He was a control freak,’ he said angrily, ‘everything had to be done his way or not at all.’

  I didn’t know what to say. I was completely taken aback by his words and bitter tone. He didn’t sound anything like the good old Beamish I had gotten to know at all.

  ‘I begged Mum to leave him for years,’ he carried on, distractedly running a hand through his hair, ‘but she wouldn’t. She said she knew he wasn’t the easiest man to live with, but she loved him and that compromise was all part of being married.’ He shook his head. ‘But there was no compromise from him. Everything was always about him getting his own way.’

  ‘Had he always been like that?’ I asked, unsure I wanted to hear his answer.

  Beamish was quiet for a moment.

  ‘No,’ he said eventually. ‘No, I don’t think he was, but from what I can remember, there was always an element of jealousy in him. He would accuse my mother of ridiculous things and god forbid if any man wanted to talk to her.’

  I shifted in my seat, suddenly wishing he’d stop.

  ‘Sometimes there would be a big blow-up and I’d think that was it, she’d leave, but she never did. She always believed his promises that he’d change, but before long something else would trigger him and then it would all start to build up again. In the end, I left them to it.’

  I didn’t want to hear any more. Some of what Beamish had said reminded me a little too much of the ‘big blow-up’ I’d had with Jonathan but at least enough time had passed now to ensure that I could be certain he would stick to the promises he had made me.

  ‘I know the situation with your parents is completely different,’ Beamish finished up, ‘but the reason I’ve just told you all this is because I really don’t want you to end up like me. I should never have left the situation as it was. I’ll never forgive myself for not doing more for Mum, for not making her see sense.’

  ‘I’m really not sure you would have been able to do that,’ I said softly. ‘You can’t blame yourself, Beamish.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ he said, ‘but the point I’m trying to make is that I still wish I’d tried harder, I shouldn’t have wasted the chances I had. I kept thinking there would be more time but before I knew it, it had run out.’

  His words were doing nothing to reinforce the lid on the emotional box marked ‘do not open’ I’d already almost let my parents escape from.

  ‘I’m guessing the rift with your parents runs pretty deep, Hattie, but I hate the thought of you letting it get in the way of trying to make things right.’ He drove on. ‘If something happens to either of them when you’ve moved and you haven’t even tried to make contact, you’ll be filled with regret for ever. This time, right now, is the perfect opportunity for you.’

  Deep down I knew he was right.

  ‘Whatever it is that’s holding you back,’ he said forcefully, ‘please don’t let it.’

  Chapter 9

  I went to bed knowing I needed a decent night’s sleep ahead of the Christmas fair, but it took me hours to nod off. I had worked hard in school and enjoyed the evening taking in the many and varied Wynbridge illuminations, but my time in the pub with Beamish had been tough, not that he knew it. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the thought of getting in touch with my parents which kept the sandman at bay, but what he’d told me about his.

  Listening to what he had to say about their relationship, how his father had accused his mother of silly things and been jealous of other men, had reminded me a little too much of the argument with Jonathan which had sent me running, albeit briefly, to Dolly.

  Other than the most recent show of clinginess, there hadn’t been a hint of anything untoward since it had all been sorted, and I was certain there wouldn’t be in the future either, but I was feeling edgy nonetheless. I had made a point of not mentioning Beamish during any of the conversations I’d had with Jonathan since I arrived in town and that suddenly didn’t strike me as the rational behaviour of someone in a happy relationship.

  As my alarm began to sound, I swung my legs out of bed, reminding myself that my decision to keep my friendship with Beamish to myself was my decision. It wasn’t fair to assume that had I told Jonathan about it he would have reacted in any way other than appropriately. This was my problem, not a problem resulting from anything Jonathan had done recently and I needed to find a way to fix it.

  ‘Morning, Dolly,’ I yawned as I came down the stairs and found my friend sitting at the table looking through the Wish List. ‘What do you fancy for breakfast? I’ll make it this morning.’

  ‘Something fortifying,’ she said, pushing the list to one side. ‘We’re going to need it, and you might want to refresh the tea.’

  I lifted the cosy and felt the pot. It was stone cold.

  ‘How long ago did you make this?’ I asked, taking it to the sink to swill it out. ‘Couldn’t you sleep? I didn’t wake you when I came in last night, did I?’

  ‘No,’ said Dolly, getting up a little stiffly from her chair, ‘you didn’t wake me. I was just up early, that’s all.’

  She joined me at the worktop and we ended up making breakfast together even though I had offered to do it.

  ‘Did you have a nice time in the pub?’ she asked. ‘Was it busy?’

  ‘I did,’ I told her, deciding not to go into too much detail, ‘and yes, it was.’

  ‘It’s a popular place,’ she said. ‘I sometimes pop in for coffee on a Saturday myself if the Cherry Tree hasn’t got a table.’

  ‘That’s another popular place,’ I smiled.

  ‘Indeed,’ she agreed, setting out the cutlery. ‘Did you get to meet any of Beamish’s rugby buddies? They’re quite a crowd.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘not last night. It was just the two of us but it was lovely nonetheless,’ I continued, thinking of the earlier part of the evening. ‘I can’t remember the last time I spent so long talking about myself.’

  ‘I daresay living with someone like Jonathan you don’t get the chance to all that often.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Just that half the time he’s too keen on his own voice and opinions to let anyone else express theirs,’ she said with a wry smile.

>   Had she not finished her sentence with a smile, I would have assumed she was being a bit mean.

  ‘He just has a lot to say, that’s all.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Dolly sighed. ‘I was on the receiving end of his runaway mouth last night.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped, dropping the butter knife on to the flagged floor where it landed noisily and of course, butter side down.

  ‘He called here,’ said Dolly, ‘not long after you and Beamish had left for the pub.’

  Suddenly, I didn’t much fancy the toast I was buttering. I swallowed down the bile which shifted as I bent to retrieve the knife and set it to one side before getting another one.

  ‘Did he want to speak to me?’

  ‘Well of course, he wanted to speak to you,’ Dolly chuckled.

  It wasn’t like him to ring the house phone.

  ‘But he wanted to speak to me too,’ she added. ‘He wanted to know if I liked the hamper. He said the biscuits were a particular favourite of his and that the coffee was his preferred blend.’

  It all sounded innocuous enough I supposed, even if it was devoid of any of their usual sparring.

  ‘I told him I hadn’t tried the coffee yet because I haven’t got a cafetière thingy and he’s promised to send me one of those as well. I wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him, to be honest. He couldn’t have been more amenable and was in no rush to let me go.’

  Ordinarily I would have been absolutely thrilled to hear the pair had been getting along, but I was more concerned about how Dolly had explained my absence.

  ‘Where did you say I was?’ I croaked, keeping my eyes on my buttering and ignoring the heat prickling the back of my neck. ‘Did he say he’d tried my mobile?’

  Because of the lack of consistent signal, I hadn’t bothered to keep it turned on.

  ‘He said he was sick of not being able to reach you on it, so that was why he’d rung the house instead and,’ she paused, ‘I told him you were already in bed.’

  Even with the time difference that was still a bit of a push. It would have been a very early night for me and I didn’t feel all that comfortable that Dolly had felt obliged to lie.

  ‘Did he believe you?’ I swallowed.

  ‘Of course he believed me,’ she tutted, taking away my knife. ‘You’ll be through to the other side in a minute. I told him you had a headache and we carried on talking until he had to go. He sounded very excited about the apartment. He even mentioned a spare room if I ever fancied visiting.’

  I felt my shoulders drop and my stomach unclench. It seemed we’d got away with it. Or Dolly had.

  ‘OK,’ I nodded, letting out the breath I didn’t realise I’d been hanging on to. ‘Excellent. That’s great.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Dolly. ‘It’s brilliant, isn’t it?’

  She didn’t sound anywhere near as pleased or relieved as I was.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘like you just said, everything is obviously great. I mean, that startled fawn look you’ve just demonstrated is the ultimate indicator of a happy relationship. And of course, it’s perfectly natural that I should think to lie to your husband-to-be rather than tell him the truth.’

  ‘Why did you lie?’

  ‘Let’s just say my gut feeling was that you hadn’t mentioned Beamish so I thought it would come as quite a surprise to Jonathan if I said you were down the pub with him.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, abandoning my toast and dumping myself down in Dolly’s chair. ‘And your gut was right. I haven’t mentioned Beamish.’

  She didn’t give me the chance to explain that I knew I was in the wrong.

  ‘But why ever not? If everything is as good as you say it is with Jonathan now, then what possible reason can you have?’

  ‘Everything is good between us,’ I insisted. ‘It’s not Jonathan, it’s me. I am going to tell him; I’ve just been working out how.’

  Dolly didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Beamish is a good-looking guy,’ I rushed on, ‘and I suppose I’ve been worried that it might complicate things if I mentioned him.’

  Dolly shook her head. Apparently, I was completely incapable of finding the right words to justify my silence about my new friend.

  ‘I’m certain you could have talked about him without bringing up his rugged good looks and Chris Evans dimensions,’ she tutted.

  ‘Oh Dolly.’

  ‘Look,’ she went on, ‘Jonathan went to great lengths to make amends for what he did and you’ve never mentioned him showing his temper since.’

  ‘He hasn’t shown it,’ I insisted.

  Getting annoyed about me wanting to contact Mum and Dad didn’t count in this situation. To be honest, his reaction had been more than justified.

  ‘Then perhaps you do him a disservice,’ Dolly said brusquely, surprising me by springing to Jonathan’s defence. ‘How will you ever know if things really are as they should be if you go about hiding your friendships . . .’

  ‘I’m not hiding my friendships,’ I said, sounding more pathetic by the second. ‘I just haven’t mentioned this one yet.’

  ‘If Jonathan really has given you no reason for concern,’ Dolly continued, ‘and I can’t imagine that he has, given that you’re moving to the other side of the world with him, then you need to have a long hard think about the reason why you are keeping quiet, Hattie.’

  I’d already laid awake most of the night thinking about exactly that. It seemed I had some psychological readjusting of my own to do because I had, as Dolly had just so adroitly pointed it, done Jonathan a very grave disservice indeed.

  That said, it wasn’t easy to banish the image of him bursting into my evening during a hotel training course and punching a colleague with whom I was having a drink. His aggressive outburst had been the reason behind my last trip to Wynbridge, but his heartfelt apology, prolific promises and appeals to move into the flat with him had soon drawn me away again . . .

  ‘I know I do,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘It’s just that this situation with Beamish . . .’

  My words trailed off.

  ‘What situation with Beamish?’ Dolly demanded.

  There was no way I could say out loud the words which were whirring around in my head. How could I tell Dolly that he made me feel good, made me laugh, put me at ease, drew things out of me, asked me questions and listened to my answers, without inferring that I was developing too strong a fondness for our rugby-playing friend.

  If I gave voice to all those things, it would suggest that Jonathan, the man I was about to move to the other side of the world with, didn’t do any of those things to or for me, and that simply wasn’t true. Was it?

  ‘I haven’t mentioned I’m volunteering at the school either,’ I blurted out instead.

  ‘Hattie . . .’

  ‘Look,’ I said pointing up at the clock and avoiding her gaze, ‘it’s almost a quarter to and we still haven’t had a bite to eat yet.’

  *

  The school fair that afternoon was the perfect distraction from my muddled thoughts and every bit as busy as I had imagined it would be. Even with the heating on the temperamental boiler turned to low, (much to Beamish’s consternation as he was going to be the one responsible for trying to fire it back up again), the classrooms and the hall were still sweltering.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ Rose called above the din as she tried to keep track of her class.

  ‘It’s mad!’ I called back, ‘but we’ve sold practically everything already.’

  There were just a few bags of biscuits left, but they were fast disappearing and I was pleased I’d had the chance to make some extras. The parents loved the baubles and I could well imagine them adorning the family trees for many years to come. I knew my mum still had two of the angels I had made when I was in primary school. Well, she had the last time I saw her at Christmas. They had still merited pride of place on top of the tree then, even though they did look somewhat out of place with all her other
decorations.

  ‘We should do this on a Saturday,’ puffed Mr Matthews as he rushed around, trying to keep tabs on the children whose parents hadn’t been able to come because they were at work.

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I’m sure it would be much easier if the children came and went with their families on a weekend afternoon.’

  ‘And it would be much more convenient for those who can’t get the time off during the working week,’ he added. ‘Unfortunately, though, unless I have all staff willing to come in, then it’s out of the question I’m afraid.’

  ‘Perhaps the PTA could fill any gaps?’ I suggested.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, checking the time on his watch. ‘Not long now. Don’t forget to man an exit when the bell goes, Hattie. I’m only letting children out of the main door today and they all have to be ticked off their class lists and with a family member before they go.’

  ‘Unless we’ve had written confirmation of other arrangements,’ I added.

  We’d all been well drilled about how to let the children go at the end of the day and I wondered if it was a responsibility any of the parents even thought about when they were in a rush to get home.

  ‘Have you got the bauble for Peter Patterson?’ Beamish asked, as he pushed his way through the throng with a little girl with blonde bunches in his arms.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, taken aback by the sight of him in the role of childminder.

  He was obviously very relaxed in the part. In fact, I’d yet to find a role that he wasn’t relaxed in. Clearly, he had carried this little one about before. She had her arms draped loosely around his neck and was enjoying the view from her elevated position.

  ‘It’s here.’ I said, tearing my eyes away, as I pointed to where I’d stored those belonging to any children whose parents couldn’t attend. ‘I’ve put them to one side so they don’t get sold by mistake and I’ve put some extra biscuits with them too.’

  I didn’t think it was very likely that someone would buy a Christmas decoration with a random child’s photo in it but I wasn’t taking any chances. My class had put in a lot of effort to create their bespoke baubles and I didn’t want any of them to go missing.