“No,” Mac agreed. “But different. You’ve always been strong-minded, Kate. If you’re honest with yourself, I don’t think you would want to change a thing.”
Of course her dad was right. Dammit! In all probability, Kate would have dropped everything to be with Matt then. As much as she’d told herself—and everyone else—that their one-night stand was a meaningless mistake, deep inside, she’d wanted it to happen. How could she hold a friend in contempt whose decision had allowed her to flourish?
“I am lucky to have Laura,” said Kate.
“Yep.”
“I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”
“Yep,” said Mac. “But you don’t have to stay one.”
* * *
• • • • •
Mac left. Kate made him promise he wouldn’t tell Matt about her decision to leave and he reluctantly agreed; left to his own devices he would almost certainly try to fix things between them, and this was something that couldn’t be fixed. Even if they made up after the argument, it would only solve half the problem.
Kate had convinced herself that being great friends with Matt was enough. But now she knew different. Now she’d listened to what her heart had been trying to tell her for so long: she would always yearn for being more than just good friends. She couldn’t stay in a place where their lives were so intertwined; one way or another they always had been, and that was why she had to leave.
* * *
• • • • •
Kate opened the larder and pulled out two bags of hazelnuts. She would need more. Laura’s favorite bake of all time was a toasted hazelnut brownie. As a peace offering Kate planned to make her a batch and buy her a bottle of wine, and stand on her doorstep with her figurative cap in her hand and beg forgiveness. But first she needed more hazelnuts.
She wrapped up appropriately for the arctic temperature and made her way to Evelyn’s shop. It had stopped snowing, but it was freezing cold and the wind was bitter. She cut through Potters Copse, where the foliage acted as a reasonable windbreaker.
There was barely a branch or bush that wasn’t hung with baubles or tinsel now. People had started to leave larger decorations too. Through the trees, just off to the right, someone had deposited a wooden sleigh pulled by eight plastic reindeer. A nutcracker doll stood at attention by a hawthorn tree and several—some might say life-size—wooden elves were dotted along the snowy path.
A squirrel stopped to look at Kate, a nut clamped between its teeth, before scurrying up the nearest tree trunk. It paused at a shiny pink bauble that dangled from a twig and gave it a good sniff; then, satisfied that it hadn’t missed out on a tasty morsel, it disappeared up into the spindly top branches.
Kate took out her phone and began to take photographs: the jolly Santa with his black boots in a tangle of snowy roots, the knitted owl that someone had perched in the hollow of a tree, and the fairy doll in the pink tutu, balanced where bough met trunk.
She lost herself for no little time in the magic of the quiet copse—until the spell was broken by a crow squawking angrily above her and a streak of a ginger cat landed in the snow next to her and slunk silently away, with no crow to show for his efforts. Kate pocketed her phone and continued on to the shop.
Of course Evelyn had hazelnuts. Not only that but she had the perfect wine to complement a hazelnut brownie.
She also had news: the caroling would take its route through Potters Copse this year and would then make its way back round to the Pear Tree for Christmas treats.
Kate didn’t tell Evelyn that she wouldn’t be attending the caroling, or any of the festivities thereafter. She had resigned herself to a quiet Christmas Eve this year. She would prep the veg for Christmas Day in front of the TV, with some mulled wine and a bag of truffles she had stashed in the fridge. It wouldn’t be so bad. In truth, after so many dates of enforced conversation with strangers, she was quite looking forward to a bit of calm.
“I had a chap in earlier today that knows you,” said Evelyn.
“Really?” said Kate.
“Lovely lad,” said Evelyn. “Been in the Pear Tree asking after you. Said you told him it was the best coffee for miles. Was on his way to the manor.”
Kate recalled there being a Christmas-tree-decorating competition as one of the Twelve Dates options. She hadn’t realized it was up at the manor. Kate had opted for the wine-tasting tour at the local vineyard instead.
“Did you get his name?” Kate asked.
Evelyn closed her eyes and screwed up her nose as she thought.
“Daryl, Darrius, David . . .”
“Drew?” asked Kate helpfully.
Evelyn slapped her thigh.
“That’s it!” said Evelyn. “Lovely chap, said you were a fine filly on the dance floor!”
Kate laughed. “That’s Drew all right.”
Kate stocked up on a few essentials while she was in the shop: a packet of Patrick’s free-range bacon and a white crusty loaf. She had veg from the garden at home, so she picked up a pack of chopped steak from the fridge to make a stew. She grabbed some more suet for dumplings. She could slow-cook it today and there’d be enough for tomorrow as well—she would need something to line her stomach before the wine-tasting tomorrow afternoon.
Kate wandered around the shop. Evelyn put her glasses back on and went back to her book. It was the twentieth of December. The kids had broken up from school and the village suddenly seemed crowded.
Kate lingered by the deep rounded bay windows—filled with bargain romance novels, canned goods, and tinsel—and looked out across the green. The Pear Tree windows were steamed up as usual and a steady stream of families filed in and out. Kate could just hear the jingle of the bell above the café door. Her heart gave a twinge, and she felt a pang of longing. Longing to be in the Pear Tree, drinking coffee and being teased by Matt. Longing for things to be like they were before.
“We’ll all be sad to see you go,” said Evelyn without looking up from her book.
Kate might have guessed her dad would tell Evelyn her plans.
“Not everyone,” said Kate.
“Some more than you might think,” said Evelyn. “The world doesn’t seem to sit right when you two are fighting.”
“The world won’t need to worry when I’m gone,” said Kate.
Kate paid for her shopping.
“Don’t leave on an argument,” said Evelyn. “I know, he’s proud and stupid, but don’t do that to him. Give him a chance.”
Kate smiled and nodded noncommittally. She was giving him a chance. She was giving them both a chance to get on with their lives.
* * *
• • • • •
Kate pulled the toasted hazelnuts out of the oven, tipped them into a tea towel, and folded it up, rubbing the rough toweling furiously over the hot nuts. When she unwrapped the tea towel the hazelnuts were peeled and the towel was full of brown papery skins.
She chopped a third of the nuts roughly and ground the rest in the blender; these were flourless brownies—the best kind. She folded all the nuts into a thick mixture of melted dark chocolate, sugar, and eggs and poured the batter into a tin for baking.
She filled the slow cooker with the stew ingredients and left it to do its thing. She would make the dumplings later.
The house filled with the smell of hot chocolate praline. Laura would be at work today. Kate considered waiting until Laura was home, but then she thought she was less likely to throw her apology back in her face if Kate took her by surprise at work. Besides, she would quite like to see if she could bump into Drew.
Two hours later, armed with a batch of warm, very squidgy brownies and a bottle of Merlot, Kate set back out into the snow in search of salvation.
She heard Laura before she saw her. She was organizing the rehanging of a freshly polished chandelier in the ballroom. Two men stood atop a ladder each, with the c
handelier held between them. Hundreds of crystal glass drops clinked merrily together as the men worked to reattach the light fitting to the ceiling rose.
“Steady now,” Laura called. “A little to your left, Peter. Michael, there’s a pendant hooked around your collar!”
Kate decided this was not the time to make a surprise entrance. She turned quietly and left the ballroom. She would find Laura later. She followed the signs instead for the Christmas tree decorating competition. Kate found herself in a corridor with blue fleur-de-lis carpet and framed pencil drawings of birds hung on the walls.
At the door to the room signposted The Twelve Dates of Christmas, Kate recognized the Lightning Strikes rep from her unfortunate dinner date in London. The rep looked up and smiled.
“Kate!” she said. “I didn’t know you were doing this date.”
“Oh, I’m not,” said Kate. And she explained to the rep that she thought she might find Drew here.
The rep pointed to a tree in the farthest corner, where Drew looked astonishingly sexy in jeans, brogues, and a tweed jacket. He was untangling a string of gingerbread-man fairy lights with his date, who looked as if he couldn’t believe his luck in being paired with Drew.
Kate thanked the rep.
“By the way,” she said. “How did you get with your expulsion-of-arseholes mission?”
“Very well,” said the rep. “After the infamous Jim, we managed to get rid of six more. We reckon they’d put about eighteen grand into the betting ring between them.”
“Well done!” said Kate. “You should join the fraud squad.”
* * *
• • • • •
Kate wandered passed the other couples and their trees. As usual there was a mix of couples, some taking the competition very seriously, some making light of it; all of them flirting wildly.
When Drew saw Kate he dropped his fairy lights and got her into a bear hug. His date looked on with pursed lips.
“I’m so happy to see you,” he said. “I had the most interesting chat with an intense man called Matt, in that coffee shop you kept on about.”
Kate tried to look casual. Even the mention of his name made her wince.
“You were right about the coffee,” he said. “Actually I was going to email you later about the twelfth date. Fancy it?”
There were two options for the twelfth date. The first was a “choose your own date” night; the idea was to pick your favorite date of the Twelve Dates experience and spend the final evening, the 23rd of December, with that person. The second option was the Lucky Dip Date, whereby your name would be put into a virtual hat and jiggled about and paired randomly with a wild card.
Kate had had enough surprises on this experience and had decided early on that she would not be partaking of the lucky dip.
She had considered asking Richard, but since it had been logged that he’d stood her up on their date, she’d thought it would look a bit odd. And actually, her date with Drew had been a fantastic night—before she got stranded in the car park . . . and even then . . .
“I’d love to,” said Kate. “You haven’t found Mr. Right either, then?”
Drew smiled wickedly and lowered his voice so that his date—who was feigning nonchalance but clearly straining to eavesdrop—wouldn’t hear.
“Actually,” he said. “I think I have. Only not on the Twelve Dates. I met him at the dry cleaners, of all places. They’d mixed up our dinner jackets. His name is Archie.”
“Wow,” said Kate. “That’s great, Drew, I’m really pleased for you.”
Drew sucked his cheeks in and tilted his head, looking smug.
“Anyway,” he said, looking over at his date, who was beginning to tap his foot impatiently. “I’d better get back. But I will see you on the twenty-third for outdoor movie and chill.”
Chill was the word! The final date was being held in Fitzwilliam Park on the edge of Great Blexley. It was an outdoor Christmas movie night—though how they would manage to prevent the participants from getting hypothermia was beyond Kate—and all the people from all the different dates were going to be there; hence the need to hire out a park. The film showing was It’s a Wonderful Life, one of Kate’s favorites, and she was looking forward to seeing it on the big screen.
But before that, Kate had to get through the wine-tasting date tomorrow with Thomas, the twice-divorced carpenter. And before that, she had to win her best friend back with brownies and booze.
Kate went back the way she had come and found Laura seated in a carved wooden throne, beneath a portrait of a portly, ruddy-faced man wearing velvet britches and a ruffled shirt beneath his matching coat. She was engrossed in the papers she held, running her finger down a list and stopping every now and again to mark a spot on the page with her pen.
“Hello,” said Kate. Her voice sounded as small and pathetic as she felt in the big pompous room.
Laura looked up. She didn’t speak. She just looked at Kate. And Kate looked back.
“I’m so sorry,” said Kate. “You did absolutely the right thing for me and I was an ungrateful cow. I’ve brought hazelnut brownies and plonk as a peace offering.”
Laura burst unceremoniously into tears. She held her papers up over her face, but it didn’t hide her sobs. Kate crossed the room and knelt down beside the throne. She was crying too now.
“I’m really sorry,” said Kate. “I know you were doing what you thought was best.”
“I’m sorry toooooo,” sobbed Laura. “If I’d told you sooner . . . It just kills me to think that you might be unhappy because of me.”
Kate knelt up and put her arms around Laura’s neck.
“I’m not unhappy!” said Kate. “I mean, yeah, I’m unhappily in love with Matt. But I’m not unhappy with the way my life turned out. I love my life!”
“I’ve been so worried you’d never want to speak to me again!” said Laura.
“That would never happen,” said Kate. She leaned back onto her knees and took Laura’s hands.
Michael walked into the room, saw the two friends crying and holding hands, and walked back out again scratching his head. Kate and Laura started laughing.
They sat themselves down on the floor, leaning up against the wall, and shared a large chunk of brownie. They left the wine in the bag, since Laura was still officially at work.
It was barely four o’clock, but the windows showed only dark outside.
Laura flapped her papers.
“I’ve got twelve live pheasants, thirty-six partridges, and two peacocks being delivered on the twenty-third, so the Lord and Lady can have live birds wandering around outside on Christmas Day,” said Laura.
“Bloody hell!” said Kate. “You’d better tell Matt to steer clear of the manor for a while!”
“God only knows how we’re supposed to stop them from flying away,” Laura replied.
“It does seem extravagant,” said Kate.
“This is the compromise!” said Laura. “They’d wanted flocks of geese and swans and a pack of wild boar let into the woods, but the groundsman said they were liable to attack the guests when they went out for their constitutionals.”
Kate laughed. Laura wiped her brow.
“They like the juxtaposition between what they’re eating and their live counterparts outside the window,” Laura went on.
“Sickos.”
“I’ve got enough dead animals hanging in the cold storage to entertain a taxidermists’ convention!” said Laura.
She looked tired. The smudged mascara didn’t help.
“Still,” she said. “I sign out at five p.m. on the twenty-third and I’m not back till after the New Year.”
They were both quiet for a moment. Reminded suddenly that one of them would be gone by then. Laura put her head on Kate’s shoulder.
“What will I do without you?” she asked
.
“You’ll just have to have plenty of weekends away in London,” said Kate. But they both knew it wouldn’t be the same.
* * *
• • • • •
Kate pushed her front door open and was greeted by the rich smell of beef stew. Her stomach growled. The house felt very warm after the bracing weather outside and Kate felt her cheeks stinging slightly as they thawed, chafed by the bitter wind.
She felt lighter now that she had made up with Laura. Kate wandered into the kitchen and caught sight of one of her packing boxes, half filled with art supplies, and a weight of sadness cloaked her shoulders once more. She sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy to leave. But, she told herself, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d started over; she could do it again.
* * *
• • • • •
Her phone buzzed her out of her reverie. It was her mum.
“Hi, Mum,” said Kate. “Are you safely home?”
“Yes, my darling,” said her mum. “I am, thanks to you, Katy-Boo!”
“Dad went halves with me,” said Kate.
Her mum went unusually quiet on the other end of the line.
“Did he, darling,” she said after a moment. “He’s a good man, your father.”
“Yes,” said Kate. “He is.”
“I know you always thought he was too good for me, darling,” said her mum.
“I never said that!” said Kate.
“You didn’t need to,” said her mum. “And, well, the truth of it is, he was. It wasn’t that I didn’t love him. I just didn’t love him enough.”
“Then why did you keep going back to him?” Kate asked.
“Because he is a good man,” said her mum. “I could never match up. I could never love him like he loved me. I just haven’t got it in me. You and your dad are cut from the same cloth; you’re both sturdy, you can stand up to life and give it as good as it gets. I’m always just trying to stop it from blowing me away.”
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 28