by Kate Hewitt
“Yes,” Ellie answered slowly, “I can understand that. I felt a bit like that with Oliver, at the start. I had Abby to consider, and we were both from such different backgrounds…”
“I suppose it’s always complicated, isn’t it? I mean two people trying to make their lives work together… It’s never easy.”
“No, but this is the fun part, surely?” Ellie asked, concern crinkling her brow. “The getting-to-know-you part, that first rush of—of excitement?”
“Yes, that part’s lovely.” Although Simon still hadn’t kissed her, at least not properly. They’d had another awkward few moments at the door on Sunday night, shifting from foot to foot while they smiled uncertainly at one another before Simon leaned in and kissed her—on the cheek. His lips had been cool and soft and Olivia had been tempted—very tempted—to turn her face so their mouths collided. But she hadn’t, because Simon seemed determined to take things slow, at least in that regard, and she could respect that. She wasn’t some teenager to be slave to her hormones, although sometimes she felt like one.
“So what’s the not-easy part?” Ellie asked.
“I suppose I’m just a little scared,” Olivia admitted. “I haven’t had a lot of relationships. I haven’t really seen the point.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged, uncomfortable. “I never met someone who seemed worth the risk.”
“Ah, the risk.” Ellie nodded in understanding. “It’s so hard to put yourself out there when you’ve been hurt before.”
“But I haven’t been hurt before, not really,” Olivia protested. “I called off my most serious relationships, and the dates that petered out hardly scarred my soul.” Ellie gave her a funny look, as if Olivia was missing something obvious. “What?”
“It’s just…I would have thought…I mean your dad. His leaving. That surely left a mark on you?”
“My dad…” Olivia repeated, surprised. She never even thought about her dad. She never wondered about him, why he left, what he might be doing now. Her mum hadn’t told her much, just that it hadn’t worked out and they were better off, just the two of them. She’d been briskly practical about it all, and she’d shown Olivia a few photos of the man who had fathered her. There was one of the three of them at Christmas, sitting in front of a fireplace; another at Blackpool, the pewter-coloured sea stretching out behind them.
“He’s a good man, Olivia, but he wasn’t cut out to be a father. We’re fine as we are, aren’t we, love?” And Olivia had always assured her that they were.
“Olivia…?” Ellie prompted. “Sorry if I’m overstepping the mark. I just thought…that’s kind of a big thing, isn’t it? To have your dad walk out?”
“I suppose,” Olivia said, even as part of her thought, yes, of course it is. A very big deal. Yet she’d never acted as if it was, never felt the need to work through issues of rejection or abandonment. “It must seem strange to you, but I’ve never really thought about it. I was always happy with Mum and me, and I couldn’t even remember my father.”
“Sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up…”
“No, it’s okay. Something to think about, anyway.” She smiled, or tried to, but she felt strange inside, like part of her had just developed a hairline crack that was surely getting wider and wider. “I’d better shower and change. I’m due to pick Mum up soon.”
“What can I do down here?” Ellie still looked concerned and apologetic, as if she regretted bringing the whole father thing up.
“Just man the fort, really. Stir the wine on occasion. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Upstairs in her flat, Olivia knew she should hurry to get ready, but some strange and persistent curiosity had her taking a stool to reach the high cupboard above her bed where her mum stored all sorts of things—boxes of jumbled ribbons and thread, old cords to various appliances and devices that no longer worked, and photo albums.
Olivia took out the oldest one, the one she hadn’t looked at very much. Her mum hadn’t been much of one for photo albums; instead she and Olivia had made a framed collage of photos for each year of her childhood. Tina had taken many of them to her flat in Witney, and a few were still left here. But the collages started after Olivia was two.
Now she perched on the edge of the bed and opened the dusty album, smoothing the wrinkled plastic that covered the old, now-faded photos. There weren’t many—a dozen in all, if that. Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at them. She’d never been curious, which now seemed odd; but in her child’s mind she’d drawn a very firm line across the past. Her life had begun at age two, when it was just her and Mum.
Except of course it hadn’t. She squinted, peering at the slightly blurry photo of them at Blackpool. Her father had her sandy hair, although his was cut short and didn’t look frizzy. In the photo he had her hoisted on his shoulders and she had her arms around his neck like a little, smiling-faced monkey.
What had happened? Why had she never really wanted to know? How could a man, a loving husband and father judging by admittedly just a handful of snaps, have walked away from it all? From his own child?
A lump was forming in her throat, a stone in her stomach. She felt heavy, burdened by a weight she hadn’t even realised she’d been carrying all these years. She’d always been fine about her dad’s leaving. It had never mattered, because Mum was enough. And in many ways her mum had been enough, but there was, Olivia realised, a dad-shaped hole in her life, and there always had been.
Dr Jekyll stalked into the room and jumped onto her bed, startling her out of her reverie. With a jolt Olivia realised nearly half an hour had passed. She closed the album and put it on her bedside table, to look at later. Right now she needed to focus on the present.
An hour and a half later she was throwing open the door of Tea on the Lea to a satisfyingly large crowd—well, at least a dozen people, but the little shop couldn’t fit many more. Christmas carols played merrily, and the space was filled with festive smells, ringing with laughter, filled with friends, acquaintances, and a few smiling strangers besides. More than one person told Olivia they hadn’t even realised Tea on the Lea had been on the high street—but they were sure to stop in now. Words to warm her heart, and hopefully increase her bank balance.
Tina was circulating with platters of cupcakes and mince pies, and Ellie was doling out the mulled wine and apple cider, served in Olivia’s ever-growing collection of mismatched teacups.
After an hour, when many of the cakes had been scoffed and cups of wine or cider drunk, Olivia decided it was time to start the Christmas quiz. Simon still hadn’t made an appearance, and she tried not to let that bother or worry her as she called everyone to attention and began to hand out pencils and sheets of paper for the quiz.
“You can work in teams… Phones away please!” She gave a look of semi-mock severity at Harriet’s husband Richard, who had been thumbing buttons on his phone.
“You can’t get good reception in here, anyway,” he said good-naturedly, and Harriet poked him in the ribs.
“Or anywhere in the village. Let’s do this the old-fashioned way. Set a good example for the kids.” She rolled her eyes at Olivia. “He’s always been competitive.”
“You’re a good match, then,” Olivia teased. The sound of jingle bells as the door opened had her lifting her gaze and then her heart turning over as she saw Simon coming in—unwinding his scarf, smiling sheepishly, looking wonderful.
“You’re just in time for the quiz,” Ava called out with a devilish glint in her eyes. “Why don’t you go on Olivia’s team?”
“I don’t have a team,” Olivia protested. “I know all the answers.”
“Even so,” Ava said, grinning. “It seems fitting.”
“Oh, really.” Olivia turned away to hide her blush. Ava didn’t need to be so obvious, but Simon was laughing and somehow Olivia didn’t mind. In fact, she rather liked it—the good-natured teasing, the feeling that she was part of something.
“Sorry I’m late,” Simon murmured as he joined her at the front. “Stroppy parent.”
“These Cotswold mummies can be quite precious about their children sometimes.”
“Indeed. Have I missed very much?”
“Just a few cups of mulled wine.” Olivia cleared her throat. “All right now! Question number one…”
The quiz went swimmingly, with plenty of good-natured competitiveness and joshing, and a bottle of fairly decent plonk to the winning team. Afterwards Olivia topped up more glasses and served more cakes, before they ended the evening with a collection of carols to sing.
I’m happy, she realised with a jolt as she stood side by side with Simon, singing Ding Dong Merrily on High. Happier than I’ve been in a long while. She didn’t think she’d been unhappy all these years on her own, but she definitely hadn’t felt like this. And yes, she knew that first rush of excited infatuation would pass, but already she hoped it might be replaced by something far deeper and stronger.
And Simon hadn’t even kissed her yet. But perhaps he would tonight. By nine o’clock everyone was trickling out, and Ellie and Alice offered to start the washing-up while Olivia took Tina, who was looking quite tired, back to Witney.
“Will you stay?” she asked Simon as she headed out with her mum. “We could have a sherry upstairs after…”
Simon’s mouth turned down at the corners and he shook his head. “I’m sorry… That sounds delightful but I really should get back.”
“Oh. Okay.” Olivia tried not to show her startled hurt. She’d been expecting Simon to say yes. She’d thought they were both hurtling towards something, and while saying no hardly meant a screeching halt, it sort of felt like one.
She had to get over this ridiculous insecurity, she told herself as she helped Tina into her car. The night was black and breath-takingly cold, and the stars looked very far away. So Simon needed to get back home. No big deal. She didn’t need to feel so rejected, as if everything was suddenly cast in doubt.
“Simon seems like a nice man,” Tina remarked as Olivia started the car and headed out of the village.
“He is, Mum.”
“I’m glad you’ve found someone, darling, I really am.”
“Well, it’s early days yet.”
“I know, but I feel better knowing you’re not alone.”
“Mum…”
“Sorry.” Tina held up a hand. “I’m not trying to sound melodramatic.” She leaned her head against the seat. “I had a lovely time tonight.”
“I’m glad, Mum.” Olivia hesitated. “Will you come to the flat for Christmas, then? Simon will be there too and it would be lovely to spend the day together. I don’t like thinking of you having some institutionalised dinner by yourself…”
“It’s not that bad,” Tina said reprovingly. “And the people are quite nice. I went to a coffee and cake morning a few days ago.”
“You did?” Olivia was both pleased and surprised. It was the first event her mother had gone to at the retirement community.
“Yes, I did. I figured I needed to start meeting people, before I lose all my marbles.”
“Oh, Mum—”
“I’m joking, Olivia.” Tina smiled at her. “Sort of.”
“I’d still like you to have Christmas with us,” Olivia persisted. She didn’t want to nag, but she worried her mum was insisting on staying in Witney out of some misplaced sense of not wanting to be a bother. “If you want to.”
Tina turned to look out the window. The wolds were cloaked in darkness. “Wouldn’t you rather spend it with your new man?”
“No, I’d rather spend it with you. Seriously, Mum.” Olivia didn’t want to sound macabre by saying something about who knew how many Christmases together they had left, but she felt it. She wanted to enjoy life as it came, just as Simon had said back in the pub. Take each moment and hold it in her hand. Savour what—and when—she could.
“All right,” Tina relented. “If you insist. I just don’t want to be a bother.”
“You won’t be,” Olivia promised. “At all.”
Back at Tea on the Lea, after dropping her mother off, Olivia found the shop and kitchen both sparkling clean, with Ellie draping a damp tea towel over the oven railing, and Alice putting the last few cakes in Tupperware.
“You’re too wonderful,” Olivia said, hugging them both. “I was expecting to have to be up for hours.”
“Glad to be of service,” Ellie said cheerfully. “It was a fab evening, Olivia. You deserve to put your feet up.”
Which was what she’d wanted to do—with Simon. Olivia tried not to let that bother her as she headed upstairs to her flat, kicking off her low heels with a groan of relief. Dr Jekyll was in Mr Hyde mode, hissing at her from the corner of the kitchen, but Olivia just ignored him.
“You’re warm and fed and cosy,” she said as she collapsed onto the sofa. “You have nothing to complain about.”
And neither did she. So Simon had declined her invitation. It wasn’t a big deal. At least, it didn’t have to be a big deal, if she chose not to make it one. She hugged her knees to her chest, willing herself to feel that, or at least to believe it.
A text pinged on her phone, and she snatched it, her heart lifting when she saw it was from Simon.
Sorry I didn’t come round. I don’t think I’d be very good company.
But he’d been charming company all evening. Frowning, Olivia deliberated over her response. It’s okay, Simon, she finally texted. Another time.
She sent it, waiting for his reply, but none came. Tossing the phone aside, Olivia gazed into the empty fireplace, the ashes of their fire from the other day filling the grate, and she tried to decide if his text had made her feel better—or worse.
Chapter Twelve
After the success of the Christmas Carols & Quiz Evening, Olivia decided to give herself a break and close the shop for the week of Christmas. She wanted time to relax, to spend with Simon, and to focus on her mum—and she didn’t usually get much custom during Christmas anyway, as everyone was busy at home with their families.
First, of course, she had to finish her cupcake promotion, which she did on the twentieth of December, with a big, red and green sign in the window advertising the free cupcake for “loyal customers.” She made a batch of triple chocolate cupcakes and another of her own creation, Christmas cake cupcakes, complete with brandy-soaked fruit and marzipan icing, which she gave away for free.
Over twenty people, all told, came in to buy their last cupcake and get their card stamped, and Olivia decided the promotion had been more than worthwhile—she gave Mallory another six Nutella cupcakes, her favourite flavour, as a thank you for giving her the idea.
Simon came in as well, and even though Olivia had seen him a few days ago, at the quiz night, her heart still did that squeezy thing that it seemed to do every time she caught sight of him.
He waited until the crowd had dissipated before asking her if she’d bought a Christmas tree yet.
“No, not yet. I’ve been a bit busy…”
“I was only asking because there is a Christmas tree farm nearby where you can cut your own tree down, and I thought it might be fun to go together.” He smiled wryly, waiting for her reply.
“Oh, it would, but—” Olivia hesitated, imagining the massive firs and spruces that were undoubtedly farmed. “I’m thinking I’ll need quite a small tree. More of a tabletop item.”
“I’m sure they sell small ones,” Simon said easily, and so they arranged to meet up the next day.
A few snowflakes were drifting down as Simon picked her up in his car, cheery as ever, and they fell into an easy camaraderie as they drove to the farm on the other side of Oxford.
“Do you have a saw?” Olivia asked somewhat dubiously. She’d never cut down her own Christmas tree before; she tended to buy them from the supermarket, prewrapped.
“Of course,” Simon answered easily. “I borrowed it from my brother-in-law.”
“When are they he
ading out for Christmas?”
“Tomorrow. And I pick up the keys for Willoughby Close this afternoon.”
“Oh!” Olivia was pleased for both Simon and the close itself, with a new resident to liven things up. “That’s wonderful, Simon.”
“When I’ve retrieved all of my furniture and things from storage, you must come over to dinner.”
“I’d love that,” Olivia answered, “but let me help you move in. That is, if you want me to…”
“That would be wonderful,” Simon answered with a beaming smile, and Olivia grinned back. Everything suddenly felt so wonderfully simple—her, Simon, their fledgling relationship.
A short while later they arrived at the Christmas tree farm, and with guidelines given and saw in hand, they walked across a field glittering with frost to the selection of smaller trees one of the staff had directed them to.
“How about this one?” Olivia asked as they approached a small, squat tree. Simon shook his head definitively.
“Too stubby.”
“Stubby?” Okay, actually, she could kind of see it. “Right, then. Do you see one you like?”
“Hmm.” Simon rubbed his chin, looking around the field of trees with a connoisseur’s discerning eye. “What about that one over there?”
Olivia looked where he pointed and then shook her head. “It’s all bare on one side.”
“All right, let’s try again.”
In the end, they decided they’d found the perfect, or almost, tree on the fifth attempt, and then spent a good twenty minutes taking turns sawing it. Lying flat on her back on the cold, frosty grass, staring up at the blue sky through a screen of pine needles as she sawed and sawed and her arm ached, Olivia couldn’t remember feeling so happy.
“Are you getting tired? Let me have a go.” Simon scooted next to her, and for a second his hip and leg were pressed to hers, his face so close if she turned her head they’d be kissing. Not that that was how she wanted their first kiss to happen.