Four Christmases and a Secret

by Zara Stoneley

  He stops, turns to look at us and frowns. ‘He can’t stay here, we were just rescuing him, that’s all.’

  ‘But.’ A hard lump forms in my throat so quickly it shocks me, as do the tears that are already brimming over.

  ‘Joke!’

  ‘Oh.’ I gulp the lump away, wipe my forearm across my eyes and try to smile.

  ‘Oh, Daisy.’ His voice is suddenly gentle, and he’s at my side, wrapping his arms round me and Stanley. He drops a kiss on Stanley’s head, and gives me a squeeze. It’s nice. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, it was only a joke.’

  ‘I think I’m a bit wound up, being silly. Sorry.’ I step away awkwardly feeling very silly.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. It wasn’t funny. Take care of each other eh? I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Thanks again.’

  ‘No problem, it was fun, wasn’t it?’

  I nod, feeling strangely emotional, on the verge of asking him to stay and chat a bit longer. ‘Maybe you’re not such an arse after all!’

  ‘And maybe you’ve got more guts than you think you have.’ He grins. ‘Night, Daisy.’

  Stanley comes to bed with me. ‘Love you Stanley.’ I kiss him on the nose. I do love him and snatching him from that pen made me realise just how much I’ve missed him.

  I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I have accomplished something important.

  Stanley doesn’t curl at my feet where he always used to, he creeps up until he’s close to my chest, then he lays his head down so that we’re practically nose to nose, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then, with a heavy sigh, he closes his eyes and he’s asleep.

  I don’t fall asleep quite so quickly.

  Tonight has felt a bit of a rollercoaster. Even though it wasn’t really a proper rescue mission, there was no danger. No chance we couldn’t pull it off. But it was nice to share it with Ollie. I’ve not had so much fun in ages. He’s not a pompous prick at all, he’s lovely.

  I roll onto my side, my body curled around the warm dog, then I drape my arm over Stanley.

  Having him back in my arms has made me realise, I’ve been with Stanley longer than I’ve ever been with a boyfriend. He’s the biggest commitment I’ve ever made.

  My new job, my career is going to be the next commitment. And then my own flat. I am on the up.

  Chapter 15

  2 p.m., 16 July

  Tim and I are getting on amazingly well. I mean we do have our differences, mainly to do with food (Stanley is on my side as far as that goes), but I’m so glad we kissed and made up the day after we shouted and broke up.

  The day after breaking Stanley out from Carrie’s I turned up to work with a scrape on my elbow and a plaster on my hand (okay, I know it wasn’t that difficult, I did have a key, but it was dark and I fell over the planter by the door on the way out because I was giggling so much).

  ‘I thought you were staying in to read that book?’ He’d managed to look cross and concerned at the same time, then dragged me into the corner next to the photocopier and just looked concerned. ‘Are you okay, Daisy? What on earth happened?’ He tucked my hair back behind my ear, then lifted my hand up tenderly.

  ‘It’s top secret, I can’t tell you. But I’m fine, Ollie helped me.’ I said in a hushed whisper.

  ‘Ollie?’ He frowned. ‘Daisy, you should be able to tell me anything, I’m your BF!’ He often abbreviates things like that, I think it’s because he doesn’t want to say the word ‘boyfriend’ and he says he doesn’t like being a ‘partner’.

  ‘Are you?’ I was confused. ‘But, yesterday, you said …’

  ‘Of course, I am. Don’t you want me to be?’ He kissed the tip of my nose and managed to look hurt at the same time. ‘Christ, so sorry about yesterday, don’t know what got into me. Just meant we should cool it at work, not professional and all that. Can’t keep away from you though! We are still okay?’ His worried gaze met mine and I wanted to snog him there and then. But I didn’t, it wouldn’t be professional.

  ‘Of course, we are!’ Bloody hell, I really would be better sticking with Stanley. But I do like Tim, and I quite understand the remaining professional at work thing.

  He winked. ‘Great! Fill in at lunch?’ Then he walked off in one direction whistling, and I went back to my desk with a big grin on my face. It was even better when I spotted an email from the big boss congratulating me on another brilliant review.

  8pm 17th July

  ‘Oh my God, I miss you!’ I launch myself at Frankie, who is dressed in a halter-neck black velvet jumpsuit that plunges at the sides almost down to her waist. If she had big boobs they’d be planning an escape, but she doesn’t. She has clothes-friendly tits that make designer gear look fab.

  Frankie somehow managed to wangle an invitation to Mum’s surprise party from me, and even though she knew we’d be in a bookshop, with the mainly elderly inhabitants of the village, plus my family, she’s never been one to worry about being overdressed.

  ‘Hello darling, my goodness, you’re early!’Mum has appeared from nowhere and managed to jump between us, which means she gets the slobbery kiss intended for my friend. She’s so taken aback she’s speechless for all of two seconds.

  I have actually managed to arrive before my mother for once though! This is mainly down to the fact that I left work on time, Ollie had very kindly packed my food for the buffet into a posh hamper and taken it with him earlier, and I had hours on my own to shower, change, dance to my summer schmoozing playlist with Stanley, get dressed and pick up Tim. He doesn’t drive as it damages the planet, but he’s quite happy to be driven. He’s also quite happy for me to use up petrol and go on a detour for him, only to find he’s left a note on the door saying he’s been called on urgent business and will see me at the party later. I text, asking why he couldn’t have let me know, and he said it was because he’d left bubbly (for Uncle T), and flowers (for Mum) with his neighbour and wanted to be sure I’d got them. Which was nice.

  Anyway, it was quite hard to not be early actually, seeing as these days I am so organised. I truly am in danger of getting my shit together, I’ve got a boyfriend, and a career!

  ‘Well, you do look lovely!’ I think it’s shock that is making Mum so nice.

  Frankie winks at me over her shoulder. She is towering above both of us (even more than normal) in her ultra-high heels. Her black fringe has been cut at a daring angle so that it dips over one eye, and she’s gone for the type of bright red lipstick that only people like her can pull off.

  ‘Quite sophisticated.’ Somebody should explain to Mum that sometimes less is more, she should stop at the ‘lovely’ and not add ‘quite’s’.

  Sasha, who writes the fashion column for the newspaper has an amazing eye for fashion (she used to be one of those personal stylists) and is also very generous. I’ve managed to totally revamp my wardrobe with a combination of freebies she’s pushed my way, and advice she’s given me on shopping trips. I am now looking stylish, rather than bag-lady. I am going to stop at quite sophisticated though, I think the natural me is more casual than smart.

  ‘Oh my goodness dear, won’t your breasts burn?’ Mum has just seen Frankie’s reflection in the glass door and spun around to stare. ‘Would you like to borrow a cardi and cover them up?’She turns back to me, looking puzzled and slightly disappointed. A look I know well. ‘I thought you were bringing a boyfriend to my party, not a girlfriend?’

  ‘He’s going to be late, he went to interview some guys who’ve chained themselves to trees.’

  ‘Saving the planet? Is this a vegan thing?’

  I laugh at Frankie. I can’t help it. ‘No, they’ve just chained themselves to trees, but they’re naked and the allotment is on one side and the school dipping pond on the other.’

  ‘How frigging stupid can they be? Don’t they know there’s a heatwave? Their bits will frazzle and drop off!’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, it doesn’t bear thinking about!’ My mother clutches her hand to her throat melodramat
ically. ‘Those poor oldies who grow their own veggies will think they’ve got a bumper crop of beetroot, they’ll be trying to pull them off!’

  Frankie is laughing, in fact she’s laughing so hard she’ll fall off her heels if she isn’t careful. ‘As long as they don’t try and chop the stalks off!’

  ‘You two should form a double act!’ I shake my head at them. ‘Tim should be here later, and he’ll be coming for Christmas as well Mum.’

  ‘How lovely. Ah now, you ladies will have to excuse me, I need to go and chat to Vera and tell her all about your new man and your job.’

  ‘I can tell her myself, Mum.’

  ‘Oh, don’t bother yourself dear, now where is your father? I’m sure he was with me a minute ago!’

  Dad had winked at me, blown a kiss and mouthed ‘catch you later’ before sneaking off in search of a whisky bottle the moment Mum had leapt between me and Frankie. He’s not daft. I imagine he is now safely hidden between some bookshelves with a tumbler, Uncle T, and Ollie’s father, Charles.

  ‘It is brilliant to see you again.’ I give Frankie a proper hug, now that we are on our own and have a drink in our hands.

  ‘I only spoke to you three days ago, you daft bint!’

  ‘Talking on the phone isn’t the same and you know it.’

  ‘Maybe not, you only give me the highlights. I don’t get the down and dirty on the luscious Ollie, all you talk about is Tim and his hairless sack, back and crack.’

  ‘No, I don’t!’

  ‘Yes, you do!’

  I might have mentioned it once, in passing, because I’ve never been out with a man who is so totally obsessed with reducing drag.

  ‘He wants to swim faster, he’s competitive!’

  ‘He’s a bloody reincarnated fish if you ask me.’ She laughs and plonks herself down on a chair. ‘Fuck, these heels have to have been designed by a man.’ The one green eye I can see glints as she gazes round the bookshop with mild interest, and rests on Terence who has just walked over to join us. ‘No insult intended.’ She winks at him, and he laughs.

  ‘My darling girl, I totally sympathise but they really are glorious I have to say.’

  I’m not sure if, when he says he understands, he means he’s done the heels thing (oh please, no, the image of Uncle T in bowtie, waistcoat, a skirt and heels is terrifying), or he’s just spent so much of his life with women that he can empathise. He is an empathetic type anyway. He’s lovely. With or without heels.

  And he writes the most beautiful love letters. I so want to mention the one I found, to tell him it nearly made me cry, but I can’t. I shouldn’t have found it. Although he had said I could look in the book cabinet any time I wanted. I wasn’t snooping.

  ‘Wonderful to see you again Frankie, and of course you, my dear Daisy. You are positively glowing!’ He gives me a big, whisky-infused hug. ‘No Stanley?’

  ‘He’s not really keen on the hot weather, so I left him flopped on the kitchen tiles dreaming about Christmas.’ He really doesn’t like it when it’s hot, and he doesn’t like the bad weather either, the first sign of rain and he hides under the bed when I get his leash out, and he sulked for hours when he discovered that the white stuff outside wasn’t warm sand, it was icy snow. He’s a funny dog.

  ‘Well I don’t know about Stanley, no pompous prick either?’

  ‘Don’t call him that!’ The words are out before I stop to think.

  ‘Really?’ She laughs, her amused gaze resting on me in such a way that I can feel myself going bright red.

  ‘Ollie’s fine, quite nice actually.’ I mumble. ‘And he is here, well at least I hope he is, he promised to bring my nibbles.’

  ‘And you’d know, now you live with him.’ She drawls. ‘And is the lovely Juliet here?’

  ‘Oh, good heavens no.’ Uncle Terence shakes his head, and whisks a cocktail from the passing Mabel, who shoots off in alarm when she recognises Frankie. ‘Juliet is old news.’

  ‘Thank fuck he saw sense! I mean, what was he doing with somebody who makes up excuses for a living? Who’s he dragged along today then? A cardio nurse who’ll jump in and resuscitate me when I swoon at his feet? Or will he do mouth to mouth himself?’ She licks her lips in anticipation and I don’t know whether to hit her or laugh.

  ‘He’s single.’

  ‘Single?’

  I can positively see Frankie perk up and start to search for him with new intent. She’s always making remarks about Ollie on the phone, calling him an arse, but I’m pretty sure she still wants to make babies with him as much as she did when she first saw him last Christmas. All the insults are a cover. She’s been round to my new home a few times and the disappointment positively rolls off her when she realises he’s not there. He’s never there when she is. Which is good as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want to watch their mating ritual.

  ‘But you’re not single Frankie, you’ve got Tarquin! Haven’t you?’ I feel strangely possessive of Ollie, I don’t want him to be another of her conquests. And I think she’s still got Tarquin, although it’s hard to keep track of Frankie at times.

  ‘Oh God, Tarquin. It was so much frigging easier to live with you than sarky Tarqy.’ She rolls her eyes dramatically. ‘God you have no idea how much room that man takes up.’ She throws her arms wide to demonstrate and nearly empties her bright blue cocktail over a pile of thrillers. She puts the glass down, and I can feel relief wave off Terence. ‘Stuff here,’ she flings one arm, ‘stuff there,’ she throws the other out, ‘game controllers, tablet, phone, they end up everywhere! Then he can’t find stuff. And his guitars.’ Another dramatic eye roll.

  ‘Guitars plural?’ Asks Terence.

  ‘Three! He dances round the living room semi naked—’

  ‘I thought you liked him semi-naked?’ She likes most men semi-naked.

  ‘Not with a Strat strapped between me and his vital parts! He is just so,’ she pauses, searching for the word, ‘big. Even though he’s only average size.’

  ‘Like a terrier, that bounces about so much you might as well have a Great Dane?’

  ‘Not sure about that analogy.’

  I laugh. I do miss her. ‘Where is he then?’

  We had agreed to meet up here as a foursome. She’d said Tarquin had been complaining they never went out as a couple (Terence was quite keen to add him to the guest list, I think he thought she’d be easier to manage with a man in tow), and I’d said I’d bring Tim. She has a thing about Tim. She likes to needle me about him. I sometimes think Frankie’s expectations are higher than my mothers. Mum just wants me to have an escort, Frankie wants to be sure he’s the right one.

  To be honest, right now I’m siding more with Mum, I just want somebody who will come out with me, who will be nice and will not invade my apartment, or life, or upset my dog. And Tim might fit that bill. I don’t want to get to that stage where you take each other for granted, get upset when lids get left off and snipe about who finished the wine (me) and who forgot to turn the bathroom light off (him). Is it too much to just want a bit of romance and a laugh?

  ‘Tarquin? Oh, he’s got a nasty nettle rash that makes it hard to sit still.’

  I raise an eyebrow, they’re really not the woodlands-walk type, and she sniggers.

  ‘It was something we read in a book about the power of stings, a quick whipping can do wonders, apparently. It’s important to keep the spice in a relationship. So’ – she seems keen to move on from that quickly – ‘where’s Ollie, then?’

  ‘I do believe he is with his parents, although I’m sure he will mingle later.’ Uncle T gives me a sideways glance. I think this is his code for ‘I’ve warned him Frankie’s here, so hide in a corner’. I do like Uncle T’s company, we’ve grown even closer over the past few months. He is a complete film and book buff, he’s funny and he’s kind. He’s also incredibly close to Ollie, I hadn’t realised just how similar they were until recently. I think Ollie actually finds Uncle T’s gentle humour and manner easier to deal wit
h than his own father’s gruffness. I guess we have parental high expectations in common.

  ‘Oh, I do hope so.’ Frankie grabs a bottle of bubbly from the passing Mabel and fills her cocktail glass to the brim. ‘So, Tarq has got a nasty rash, what’s Timbo’s excuse? Have you been nibbling his nuts?’

  ‘Frankie!’

  Frankie has gate-crashed a couple of times when Tim and I have been having a night in, and they’ve got on okay, but she has made the odd dig about him. It’s almost like she’s been jealous of him taking my attention away from her when she’s been expecting a girlie night in. So, this evening was partly my way of stopping her little jokes, I just knew once we had a proper night out together, that would be it. I mean, I don’t exactly want her fancying him (like she does Ollie), but it would be great if they were friends. It’s a lot easier to manage when everybody gets on, isn’t it?

  ‘Have you met him, Terence?’

  Terence nods, and orders dirty martinis all round. ‘He’s a nice boy.’

  ‘But not her forever man?’

  He chuckles. ‘More a spring fancy.’

  ‘That’s turned into a summer warmer?’

  ‘Hey, you two, stop ganging up on me!’

  ‘I’d never gang up on you, Daisy.’ He pats my hand. ‘But sparks don’t exactly fly, do they? You need passion in your life!’ He says the word passion with gusto and a punch to the air.

  ‘Damp squib.’ Mutters Frankie. ‘Not enough lead in his pencil.’

  ‘I heard that! What have you got against him?’

  She tilts her head on one side, as though she’s thinking. ‘Maybe it’s the beard? Maybe he’d look more he-man if he had a chin?’

  ‘He has got a chin! And I wouldn’t care if he hadn’t, he’s nice!’

  ‘So are strawberries dipped in chocolate my dear,’ Terence takes the bottle of fizz from her and tops up all the glasses, ‘but they’re not very satisfying, are they?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Frankie gazes beyond us and sighs. ‘If you’ve got a man who knows his way round fruit, a punnet of strawberries can last all night!’