by Emma Davies
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ he said, his voice raised against the clamour.
She nodded, feeling the infectious excitement of the crowd around her, almost overwhelming her.
Seemingly without thinking, Bertie grabbed her hand. ‘Come on!’
He led her straight through the middle of it all, not stopping until they were standing in front of a building that looked as if it had been transplanted from Switzerland. He pointed up at the huge expanse of wood and glass above them, like a chalet on stilts.
She stood, gazing up, her breath coming in pants; a reaction to the speed with which they had rushed through the market. Bertie was like an overexcited schoolboy, grinning from ear to ear.
‘I take it that’s the Altitude Bar,’ she said, smiling as he nodded enthusiastically.
‘And we’re just in time for our table. Wait until you see the view from the other side…’
It took a moment to get through the throng of people milling about but they had only just stepped inside when there was a loud shout from in front of them.
‘Bertie!’
An enormous man completely blocked Daisy’s field of view before lifting Bertie clean off the ground in an enormous bear hug.
‘It’s so good to see you again, my friend.’
The man settled Bertie back down and she was able to look properly at the giant for the first time. His face was almost hidden by a huge bushy black beard and thick curly hair which, had it been white, would have given Santa Claus a run for his money. Piercing dark eyes twinkled with amusement and the roundness of his apron-clad stomach was matched only by the width of his beaming smile.
‘Luka!’
Bertie was equally delighted to see his friend and, still grinning, waved Daisy forward.
‘Daisy, this is my good friend, Luka, who has always been this size, even when we were at school together. And now, having been thrown out of countless bars in his youth, has decided to run one… Luka, this is Daisy.’
‘Ah, the English rose…’ He lifted her hand in his huge paw and kissed it softly. ‘I have heard so much about you.’
Daisy faltered, unsure what to say, confused and more than a little embarrassed by Luka’s comment. She looked at Bertie, but his expression gave nothing away and then she realised that if Luka was the friend he seemed to be, then he would know everything about the competition.
‘Ah yes,’ she said, smiling. ‘I can only imagine what Bertie’s been saying about me; the pain-in-the-bum shop assistant who’s making his life a misery…’
It was Luka’s turn to look confused. ‘I can assure you I’ve heard only good things about the beautiful young lady who knows so much.’ He reached forward to pummel Bertie’s arm. ‘I love this man, but, sheesh… he has much to learn.’ His laughter boomed around the room as Bertie blushed bright red.
‘Don’t you start, I can get this kind of abuse at home,’ he quipped.
Luka bowed. ‘Then I will show you to your table, and the drinks are on the house of course…’ He held up his hand. ‘And I will hear no argument,’ he said, firmly.
He led the way up a long flight of wooden steps whose glass sides caused the staircase to seemingly float up the middle of the room. Above them Daisy could see the criss-crossings of wooden rafters that twinkled with tiny white lights, but it wasn’t until they neared the top that she got her first inkling of what was ahead. She took in a sharp breath.
‘They’re trees…’
She turned to look at Bertie in confirmation, who simply nodded. ‘Yes they are.’
Arranged around the room were huge trees, bare of leaf, their branches threading upwards to the lofty ceiling, and each of them was wrapped in shimmering lights. It was magical. She stood underneath one of them, looking up through the branches; and had it not been for the noise and the people, she could have been at home. She had done that once, in the stand of silver birch trees that stood behind her house. She had lain on her back, despite the snowy ground, and gazed upwards through the tree’s slender limbs. They were pale against the dark of the sky but sparkling with frost and the countless stars that peeped between their branches as she looked up. It had seemed like heaven.
‘Are they real?’
Luka laid a hand against one of the trunks. ‘I call them my ghost trees,’ he said with a smile. ‘Sadly the trees are no longer alive, but I brought them here so that their spirit could live on.’
‘Oh, that’s beautiful, they’re beautiful.’
She looked back at Luka to see Bertie watching her. He smiled and rolled his eyes. ‘Luka, you’re such a romantic.’ He took her arm. ‘Shall we sit down?’
Luka waved them ahead and slipped back into the crowd as they made their way to a table at the far end of the room, underneath an enormous arch of branches. They couldn’t have chosen a finer place to sit and, as soon as Daisy saw the view from the window, her mouth dropped open for the second time in as many minutes. She shuffled along the fur-draped bench so that she was closer to the glass and peered through. Hidden by the building, but standing resplendent in among another square of stalls and other fairground rides, was a brightly painted helter-skelter.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said. ‘That’s incredible.’
‘I thought you might like it.’
‘Oh, just to look at – I don’t think I’ll be going on it.’
‘Why not?’
A sudden memory of a fairground flashed through her mind. One that she hadn’t thought about in years. She swallowed. ‘I’m just not very good with things like that,’ she answered, turning back and looking out across the room. ‘This place is beautiful though. Your friend seems like he’s a real character.’
‘Luka’s one of the good guys. Had a terrible upbringing, but still managed to turn out to be a thoroughly decent human being, and his business is doing really well too. Of course at this time of year he makes a fortune, but he’s doing well the rest of the year too; even looking to set up a mobile business.’ He grimaced. ‘Kind of makes me wish I’d got on board with him when he offered, right at the start.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
There was a sigh. ‘Too busy having a good time. And back then, it probably would have been the world’s worst idea. I wasn’t ready to pull my weight and you can’t start off a business without giving it one hundred and ten per cent. I suspect my lack of application would have cost me my friendship with Luka too, so, all things considered, it was probably a smart move.’
Daisy could see the pull within him of what might have been. He still wasn’t absolutely convinced he’d made the right decision.
‘And what about now? If working with Luka were still an option, might things be different?’
‘Possibly. I reckon I could be ready to settle at something, but here?’ He looked around him. ‘It’s nice to come and visit but it feels like a lifetime away somehow. In any case, I have Buchanans to consider, and who knows what’s going to happen there.’
‘Who indeed…’ Daisy fell silent, the weight of what was facing them hanging heavy in the air. She searched for something to say that would change the subject but, just as she was about to speak, a waitress approached them, carrying a tray.
‘Hi,’ she said brightly. ‘Luka has sent these over, and he said to shout if you want any more. On the house, naturally.’
She lowered the tray and placed a tall mug in front of Daisy, before unloading several plates full of food and an identical mug which she placed in front of Bertie.
‘Enjoy,’ she said. ‘And Merry Christmas.’ She backed away with a wave, disappearing almost instantly amid the crowds of people moving through the room.
Daisy looked down, biting her lip.
‘I wasn’t sure what you’d like,’ said Bertie. ‘But these are Luka’s famous hot chocolates and it seemed a bit too early in the morning to start drinking, even for me.’
It was a flippant comment, but Daisy’s stomach contracted. ‘I don’t drink,’ she said faintly.
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nbsp; ‘Don’t you… oh.’ He looked down at the table and then up again, grinning. ‘Just as well then. They normally have rum in them, but I erred on the side of caution.’ He pushed a plate towards her. ‘I ordered a few of all my favourites nibbles too, some savoury, some sweet, just in case.’
Her eyes roamed the table. ‘What are they?’
‘Spiced cashews – they have a bit of a kick to them but they’re great with hot chocolate. Then there are big old pretzels, which are just, well, you know, pretzels, and these are like mini cheese on toasts, but Luka puts some magic ingredient in them, I think, because they don’t taste like that when I make them at home.’ Bertie looked up at her and she nodded. ‘The stars are gingerbread and these… these are called rugelach. They’re little pastries stuffed with cinnamon and raisins, walnuts too.’ He picked one up and popped it into his mouth whole, closing his eyes and groaning with pleasure.
‘I see, and what’s in this?’ She looked down at her drink where a mountain of cream was slowly oozing over the side of the mug.
She saw his eyebrows knit together. ‘It’s just hot chocolate, honestly. None of your rubbish though. It’s made with the good stuff; seventy per cent cocoa solids, and then a dash of vanilla syrup for sweetness, all covered in a ton of cream, and more chocolate of course.’ He was grinning as he picked up his spoon and plundered the top of his own drink. ‘Dig in, you don’t have to be polite.’
‘I’m not really…’ She trailed off.
Oh, this was awful. Bertie had gone to so much trouble so that she could enjoy herself, and if she were anyone else she would have fallen on these things with undisguised glee, just as Bertie had. But she was not anyone else, unfortunately.
‘Is everything all right?’ He thudded a hand against his forehead. ‘Don’t tell me, I’ve managed to pick the one thing you absolutely hate?’
‘No,’ she replied quickly. ‘I like hot chocolate. It’s just that I usually have it… well, plain. I’ve never tried it with all these things in it before, I’m not sure…’ She gave an involuntary shudder, trying to turn it into a cough.
Bertie gave her an easy smile. ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘Give it a try and if you don’t like it I can get you a plain one.’
Just like that. But she couldn’t, it would be so wasteful.
She picked up her mug and tried to dislodge some of the cream with her spoon but she couldn’t even see the liquid underneath. She looked around her, at all the happy, smiling faces – people drinking from mugs, glasses, huge tankards even, and all without a care in the world, and here she was, couldn’t even manage a dollop of cream. She swallowed, took a deep breath and a mouthful of her drink… and almost gagged. It was so, so… She couldn’t even put it into words.
A couple of napkins lay next to the plates and she snatched one up, holding it to her lips pretending to be concerned that she had a cream moustache. She dragged a smile onto her face. ‘What am I like?’ she said.
Bertie popped a nut into his mouth. He was watching her, but made no comment. She picked up a pretzel and waved it nonchalantly.
‘So, what are you doing for Christmas?’ she asked, trying to deflect attention from herself.
He rolled his eyes. ‘What, apart from working out how to run Buchanans, you mean? No, I’ll be in Scotland for most of it. A mate of mine has a big house up there; more of castle, actually, so as soon as I’m fit to drive after the big day I’ll be heading up there for a week of food, booze and general debauchery. New Year up there is amazing.’ He stretched out the last word until it had at least five syllables.
She looked at him, puzzled. ‘But it’s your mum’s birthday on New Year’s Eve. Won’t you be spending it with your family?’
‘God, no!’ Bertie laughed. ‘I can’t think of anything worse. Been there, done that, most definitely bought the tee shirt but I don’t think I could stand another family bash – Lawrence being his usual pompous self, muttering about standards and tradition, ordering everyone around, Kit trying to make himself invisible, disappearing for hours on end, while muggins here tries to keep the peace and inject some fun into proceedings, while all the time Mum watches the clock.’ He broke off, frowning. ‘Of course, I know why she was watching the clock now; couldn’t wait to get rid of us all so that Charles could come round. Why she didn’t say anything I don’t know.’
‘Maybe she was just trying to protect you. To keep Christmas special for you guys so that it wouldn’t feel like Charles was trying to muscle in on the family.’
‘Do you really think that?’ Bertie sounded incredulous.
‘I don’t know. It just strikes me that whatever she was like as a mum, with your dad dying so young, Bea has brought you up virtually on her own. Okay, so your dad left a huge pot of money which helped, but most single mums I know are very protective of the family unit, especially when there’s a new partner on the scene.’
Bertie popped another nut in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Do you know, I’m not sure I ever really thought of it like that. Mum just always seemed keen to get rid of us all.’
‘Or nervous of someone arriving…’ Daisy picked up her drink and took another swallow.
‘Yeah… maybe you’re right.’
‘Of course I’m not sure about Lawrence being pompous or Kit pretending no one can see him, I think those might just be character traits.’ She grinned and Bertie laughed, knowing he was being teased.
‘So, come on then, Miss Turner. If you have family dynamics sussed, what’s your Christmas like?’
She looked up sharply, not having expected the question. ‘Oh, quiet,’ she replied, heart thudding. ‘Very boring, no dramas at all, in fact.’ She smiled and took another sip of her chocolate.
‘Well then, big family, small?’ He glanced up at the tree above their heads. ‘Are you a lonesome pine or part of a thicket?’
His description made her smile, and relax somewhat. ‘One of a pair,’ she replied. ‘I have a brother, well, half-brother, but he doesn’t live around here, so we have a long phone call on Christmas Day but that’s about it. I shall go for a walk along the canal, which will be heavenly, and then go home to sit in front of the fire with my new book. I always treat myself at Christmas,’ she explained.
She could see that Bertie wasn’t quite sure how to frame his next question. It was the one that always came after, so she thought she would save him the bother, and embarrassment.
‘I don’t see my parents,’ she said. ‘My dad left with my brother when I was about five and my mum… It’s a long story, but we had a bit of falling-out, so I don’t keep in touch.’ It wasn’t quite the whole truth, but it would do. She pulled a face. ‘So you see, I’m not quite the expert on family dynamics that you thought I was.’
‘Your mum was a single parent though,’ replied Bertie. ‘Just like mine.’
‘Not like Bea,’ said Daisy. ‘But, yes, you’re right, she was.’
She picked up her drink again so that she wouldn’t have to look at Bertie or answer another question just at that minute and, without thinking, took a huge swallow. Her eyes widened and she pulled the mug away from her lips to stare at its contents.
Bertie grinned. ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’
She looked across at him. How on earth had that happened? Was it because she had drunk several mouthfuls already, and got used to the flavour? Or drunk without thinking, bypassing her brain’s normal resistance? Whichever it was, the drink was delicious. She took another swallow, letting the velvety smoothness roll around her mouth. It was sweet, but not sickly, creamy and rich all at the same time.
He pushed a plate towards her. ‘Try it with a rugelach, it’s gorgeous.’
She hesitated. Perhaps she was pushing her luck trying one of the pastries as well, but… She took one before she could think about it any more and bit it clean in half. Her mouth filled with a luscious buttery richness, the cinnamon reminding her of every Christmas she had ever known. She crammed the last of it in before she had even fi
nished the first mouthful. She looked up, grinning.
‘Sorry…’
Bertie’s eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself. I once had a stick insect for a girlfriend and she drove me mad. Do you know how difficult it is to take someone out for a romantic meal when all they’ll eat is lettuce leaves, and hold the dressing?’
Daisy nearly choked.
‘Not that this is like that at all…’ Bertie groaned. ‘Oh God, excuse me while I just take my foot out of my mouth.’ He peeped up at her through his lashes. ‘This is just too weird, isn’t it?’
Daisy nodded and chewed, trying to swallow quickly. ‘It is rather. But it’s so lovely of you to bring me here, to go to all this trouble.’
‘Well, where do you take someone when you’re trying to get to know them better… but not in a romantic way?’ he added quickly. ‘I had no idea but, seeing as you’re giving up your day off to do this, I thought the very least I could do was bring you somewhere fun. And I know this place, I thought it might help.’
‘It’s lovely, Bertie, really. So, no agenda, let’s just try and enjoy it.’
He smiled at her. ‘Deal,’ he replied. ‘Come on then, eat up, there’s plenty more we have to see.’
Bertie had almost polished off the pile of nuts, but Daisy did try one, and two more of the delicious pastries disappeared as well. She gave the mini cheese on toasts a miss, leaving them for Bertie who didn’t mind in the slightest. He grinned as he gathered up the gingerbread stars into a napkin and slipped them into his pocket. ‘We can munch them as we go.’
Moments later they were back outside, shivering in the sudden blast of cold air that hit them after the warm fug of the bar. Daisy pulled her cloak around her.
‘Where to?’ she asked, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. Sure enough, Bertie led them around the building and out into the square they had looked down on. An old-fashioned fairground was in full swing, the jangly music loud amid the laughter and flashing lights.