Snowflakes at Mistletoe Cottage: A heartwarming and funny Christmas romance

by Katie Ginger

  When Esme opened the door to Joe half an hour later, she couldn’t believe her eyes. He looked sharp in a black suit, bright white shirt and long, thin black tie. She felt her cheeks lift as she smiled, unable to contain it. Joe’s eyes glanced over her body, probably surprised to see in her something other than dirty jeans and baggy jumpers, and with unbrushed hair. She hoped he liked what he saw. ‘Wow. You look amazing.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Her confidence lifted a little. ‘I was worried it’d be a bit much.’

  ‘No. No. You look great.’ They stood in silence for a second until he pointed at his car. ‘Shall we make a move?’

  Esme nodded and climbed in quickly, shivering in the cold. Having grown used to multiple layers of clothes on all parts of her body, her elegant jacket and scarf didn’t offer much protection against the chill of the night. Joe turned up the heater and began the drive into town.

  ‘Are you looking forward to Christmas?’ Esme asked. It wasn’t the most exciting question to start the evening, but she couldn’t exactly begin with, ‘Have you got over your dead ex-girlfriend and total heartbreak yet?’

  ‘I kind of am this year.’ They fell back into a moment’s silence as Joe concentrated on the road. He glanced at her from time to time and Esme pulled down her skirt, nervous it was too short. ‘Are you enjoying being in the cottage?’ he asked as they left the pitch-black winding country lanes behind and drove along the streets of Sandchester lit by streetlamps and houses.

  Esme brightened. ‘Definitely. I do like it there. It’s scruffy, and sweet, and crazy. Bloody cold, even with the fire, but I like it.’ She had grown to like it in its mad way but whether this was her future or just a stepping stone to something else, she still wasn’t sure. Since being blacklisted by a couple of agencies, she’d been researching other career options that still used her food tech skills; at night, when that eerie silence descended, London still called to her. She still missed the hustle and bustle of the city, and of course, her friends.

  Joe pulled up in the car park and ran to open the door for Esme, like a gentleman. They walked down the steep high street to the wine bar chatting about Joe’s work and some of the new houses that were coming onto the market. Esme spoke of her recipes and how the blog was beginning to flourish a little. It was already busy when they entered the bar, but it was a pleasant change from the pub, especially as there was far less chance of her parents being there. Esme could only imagine what Carol would say at seeing her a) tarted up for a change and b) there with Joe. After the whole Christmas tree episode, it didn’t bear thinking about. A bright full moon shone in through the large glass windows on one side and a glitzy bar ran along the other. Subtle lighting gave an elegant feel and groups chatted merrily to each other.

  Joe met his friend with a firm handshake and introduced Esme. Then the owner showed them to their table where a bottle of champagne in a cooler full of ice waited for them. Joe poured, his hand shaking a little. Esme hoped everything was okay and that it wasn’t anything to do with memories of Clara. ‘So, the blog’s going well?’ he asked, passing her a glass.

  ‘Yeah, really good, I think. Some people think I’m a bit unprofessional, but others like it. I’ve had some sweet messages from someone called Penny85. She’s been really supportive right from the start and I found out she’s local. I’m going to meet her to say thank you.’

  Joe’s face flickered with concern and Esme worried he thought it was a bad idea, but then he said. ‘You’re not unprofessional, you’re just not boring, like most TV presenters.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘How are things with you?’

  Joe lifted his eyes and met her gaze. ‘Do you know, for the first time in a long while, things are going okay.’ He shook his head as if not believing his own words. ‘I took your advice and called Clara’s mum. I’d tried before but she didn’t want to speak to me. But then this time we had a great chat and cleared the air. I apologised for not making it to the funeral, and she apologised for not asking me, and she let me know they didn’t blame me.’ He took a sip of his drink like his mouth was dry, the words zapping him of his energy. ‘Not that it was an apology they needed to make, but it meant a lot. I’ll never forget Clara, but ringing her parents, speaking to them and knowing they don’t blame me, like I blamed myself, I feel like a giant weight’s been lifted. I can’t remember the last time Christmas felt exciting. I’m not dreading it, which is great.’

  ‘That’s fantastic.’ Esme smiled. Did that mean he was ready to move on? Maybe with her? She shook the thought away. She wasn’t even sure that was what she wanted right now. And her future might still lie in London, not here. ‘That was really brave of you.’

  A gentle blush touched his cheeks as he grinned. ‘Shall we get some food to soak up this booze? I’ve got a feeling there could be a lot of drinks tonight. It seems we both have things to celebrate.’

  *

  Though it wasn’t really a date, it was turning out to be one the best nights of her life. They talked endlessly during dinner with no uncomfortable silences and afterwards, Joe asked her to dance to the cheesy Christmas songs playing. There was hardly enough room for all the people shifting and moving on the dance floor, and more than once Esme bumped into someone, turning to apologise to be met with a huge grin. Joe was a pretty good dancer and when his hand went to the small of her back Esme had a sudden flashback to Leo and the night she’d called Sasha. The night she’d changed her future forever. But the gentle pressure of Joe’s strong hand sent a tingle down her spine. The air was heavy with the smell of perfume and alcohol, and carried the buzz of excitement that work was finished and Christmas nearly here. The couples surrounding them laughed and kissed, and she turned to Joe.

  Her heart had been a broken clock and now something had clicked and the cogs had started working again. Had Alice been right that everything happened for a reason? Was this going to be the best thing that had ever happened to her? Being in Joe’s arms felt right. Was this the man she was supposed to be with? As they swayed in time to the music, their bodies coming closer together, she could feel his torso press against hers and her heart began to pound. If she looked up at him, would he kiss her? Did he want it as much as she did right now? Risking a look, she tilted her head upwards, and his dipped. His mouth was coming closer to hers and she shut her eyes, her body tingling with anticipation. Then a voice called his name and Esme looked up to see Joe’s raised head watching as the dark-haired woman he’d been with in the pub ran up to him. Esme backed away, and Joe’s hand fell from the small of her back as the other woman flung her arms over his shoulders.

  ‘Joe! Where’ve you been? You’ve been ignoring me.’ She kissed him on the cheek then turned to Esme who, startled by how pretty she was close up, studied her shoes. ‘What are you doing here? You’re not being naughty, are you? Anyway, I need to see you. Can you meet me after Christmas?’

  All at once Esme’s confidence, not to mention her belief in Joe, was cut down. He hadn’t changed. Lola was right, some men never grew up. She’d been taken in by the vulnerability of a man she had imagined. Joe’s eyes darted from Esme to the brunette and back again, his cheeks red with embarrassment at being caught out and, Esme hoped, shame.

  ‘Esme, this is—’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Esme said as she clenched her jaw and rushed to the door. Did he think he could use her then cast her off, just like Leo had? Like he did with his one-night stands? Well, she wasn’t going to stand for this. She wasn’t going to stand there and be humiliated.

  Over her shoulder she heard Joe say, ‘Just wait there a second, angel.’

  What? He was calling her his ‘angel’ when Esme hadn’t even left the building? She was only a few yards away! The palms of her hands were sweaty as, outraged, she made her way to the front door and out into the street. The cold night air hit her face, taking her breath away. Stupidly, she’d left her jacket and scarf back at the bar. Never mind. She hadn’t liked them much anyway and wouldn’t want to wear
them again after tonight. A taxi sat ready and waiting in the taxi rank a few metres away.

  ‘Esme? Esme, wait.’ Joe’s voice carried on the wind but she didn’t look back, just ran on towards a taxi. Pulling open the door and jumping in, she tried hard to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill down her face. She’d thought her heart was beginning to rebuild itself again. That slowly, piece by piece it was mending and her with it. She’d allowed Joe to inch his way inside and now, instead of helping her heal, like she’d helped him, he’d battered it, tearing it in half again.

  Chapter 28

  Sandchester

  As Christmas Eve had ended so badly, Esme was grateful to spend Christmas Day with her parents. The noise and hubbub of their celebrations would stop her thinking about Joe and there was no way she could cope with being in the cottage all on her own.

  Dressed in a tacky Christmas jumper she’d found in a charity shop, decorated with a snowman whose large woollen carrot nose stuck out, Esme climbed into her dad’s waiting car. He wore something similar: a jumper with an Christmas elf on it. Stephen’s thin face and weak chin made him look the least elf-like he possibly could. He looked like a grumpy accountant, but wearing silly Christmas jumpers was their family tradition and Esme wondered what marvellous creation her mother would be wearing. Carol never held back when it came to dressing up.

  Alice’s car was already parked when they arrived. No doubt Daniel had got up ridiculously early for them to be there already. It was only just after nine. As Carol opened the door, Daniel came running at her, shouting, ‘Santa Claus has come, Aunty Esme! He even left me some presents here!’

  Esme smiled and hugged him close, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. ‘Do you know, he even left a present for you at my house. He told me I could be an elf for him today and give it to you because you were the best boy in the whole world.’

  Daniel’s face lit up and his eyes opened wide. ‘Can I have it now, Aunty Esme? Can I, please?’

  Esme looked to Alice stood behind him in the hallway, who nodded. ‘Okay, then. I just need to bring it in from the car.’

  Daniel ran back inside and Esme brought the presents in. They settled in front of the fake fire with her mother’s CD of carols playing in the background. There was no TV allowed on Christmas morning. It was always music mixed with laughter until the Queen’s speech. Then an afternoon film with bursting bellies.

  Esme shook off her jacket and perched on the end of the sofa, her mum and dad next to her. Carol was wearing a jumper with a giant advent calendar on it, with little flaps for each day, Christmas tree-shaped earrings hung down from her ears and Rudolph antlers were perched high on her head. As per usual, she had a glass of bubbly in her hand. ‘Merry Christmas to you, my sweetheart,’ she said, reaching over and taking Esme’s hand.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Mum.’ Her dad handed Esme a glass. Her family were pretty amazing. They watched as Daniel, unable to contain himself, tore off the wrapping paper. As he got to the last little bits, Esme switched her gaze between Daniel and Alice, hoping to catch the exact moment Alice realised what it was.

  ‘A drum kit, Daniel,’ said Alice, through gritted teeth. ‘How amazing is that?’

  Esme gave a cheeky grin and after Alice had shot her a pretend evil glare, they burst out laughing. She turned to Esme. ‘I’ll get you for that later. As soon as you have kids I’ll be buying them every musical instrument I can think of.’

  ‘I know,’ laughed Esme. ‘I know.’ Esme got up and moved to the other sofa to sit next to her sister, then wrapped her arm around her and rested her head on Alice’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here, sis,’ Alice whispered, kissing the top of her head.

  ‘Me too,’ Esme replied, refusing to let thoughts of Joe creep in.

  They settled down next to the tree with its twinkling multi-coloured lights, and the fake branches decorated with baubles, and began exchanging gifts, sipping Prosecco and eating another batch of sausage rolls and cheese scones that Esme had made a couple of days earlier. When it came to Esme’s turn to open her presents, a surge of emotion formed a lump in her throat. Looking around at her family all gathered together, all staring at her with love in their eyes, joy filled her heart. She opened the first gift from Alice and after removing the wrapping paper, unfolded an apron that said, ‘When in doubt, add booze!’ It was perfect and thinking of her last live vlog, quite apt too.

  Her mind tried to replay last night and the drinks she’d shared with Joe, but she shoved the thought away. She was so angry with him that when he’d texted late last night, she’d deleted it without reading a single word. How could he have used her like that knowing everything she’d been through, everything that he’d been through? Clearly the genuine, caring side of him had been fake all along.

  ‘Here’s another one, Esme,’ said Carol, passing her another present. She opened another and another and, before long, had an array of cooking utensils and cookbooks surrounding her. ‘We bought you cookery things,’ said her mum, looking uncharacteristically serious, ‘because we believe in you. We know you can do this.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said her father, raising his glass.

  ‘Me too, Aunty Esme,’ said Daniel, running and strangling her from the tightness of his embrace.

  Esme wiped a tear from her eye. This was the best Christmas Day. Ever. Her family were her sanctuary. Her place to hide and be safe, protected from the rest of the world, which was just what she needed right now. She kissed Daniel’s cheek and he let go to begin bashing his drum kit just as Esme’s phone pinged with a message. She checked it quickly, wondering if it was Joe. He was spending the day with his family and she hadn’t expected to hear from him. Whatever excuse he came up with, she wouldn’t believe it. Esme was just preparing a curt response in her head when she saw it was from Leo. He wished her a Merry Christmas, sent his love to her family and hoped she was well. Esme’s stomach lurched. Was he sorry for what he’d done and regretting it, or was this just a strange peace offering?

  ‘Everything all right?’ asked Alice.

  Shoving her phone into her pocket, Esme fixed a smile. ‘Yeah, fine. Nothing important.’

  Though Esme loved to cook and all the family thought her food better than Carol’s, she could never bring herself to cook the big Christmas dinner. She would help out in the kitchen, stirring, chopping, peeling and doing whatever else was required, but Carol always said it was her place to make and serve dinner on Christmas Day, even though she was terrible. It was part of her job as Mum, and no one challenged that because they loved her and her crazy antics so much. Esme remembered the year Carol had messed up the turkey and it was still frozen in the middle so Esme had knocked up an amazing broccoli cheese dish and served it in giant Yorkshire puddings. It was divine and one for the blog, she thought with a grin.

  They gathered around the table, squeezed in next to each other with elbows knocking and legs at awkward angles. Helping themselves to the bowls of food, they chatted together, teasing, laughing, joking. Alice tried to get Daniel to eat more sprouts and Esme kept stealing them from his plate whenever Alice wasn’t looking, her dad aiding and abetting by distracting Alice if she glanced over.

  The only aspect of Christmas dinner Esme was allowed to help with was the Christmas pudding. Made from a traditional recipe of her great-grandma’s, it had one secret ingredient no other Christmas pudding had. A good local ale was used instead of stout, and it gave the pudding a lighter flavour. Grandma always used to tell them how when she was a child, she would be given a large white jug from her mother and a purse full of coins and she would walk to the nearby pub to collect the ale. The landlord always gave her an apple for the walk back.

  Now that Esme made it, she’d gather everyone around and they would all stir the pudding three times clockwise and make a wish. She’d nipped home for the day in late October, before this whole horrid mess had started, with the contents in a Tupperware box next to her on the train for them to ma
ke their wishes. Leo never came. He always said it was her family tradition and she should keep it that way. She’d always believed it to be a kind gesture, but now, looking back, she wasn’t sure. The morning she’d packed up her belongings and left the flat, she’d pulled it out from under the spare bed and tucked it under her arm, her suitcase in the other hand. There was no way she was leaving it behind.

  Now Daniel was older and she wasn’t in London, maybe he would make the puddings with her next year? She wanted to pass on all these family traditions, ensure they didn’t die out. And they wouldn’t if she had anything to do with it. After a big helping of the pudding with lashings of cream, they flopped on the sofa. Bellies full, tired and sleepy, while Daniel played with his new toys.

  ‘What are you up to tomorrow?’ Carol asked Esme. ‘Only, you know Mildred and Norman next door have a shindig every Boxing Day? They thought that, as you were back, you might like to come. Their son will be there.’ Mildred and Norman’s son, James, had been the kid at school who always had a runny nose. Esme blanched at the thought of what he must look like now. ‘He’s divorced,’ continued Carol. ‘And I wouldn’t say handsome, but he’s not unattractive. Could do with some teeth whitening from all the smoking, but he’s a very nice man.’

  Esme grimaced and Alice hid behind her husband’s arm, giggling. ‘No, thanks, Mum. I’ve got plans. I—’

  ‘Are you sure, love? As you’ve given Leo the old heave-ho, you should be getting back out there again. You could think of him as a practice run. I’m not saying you need to have sex with him but—’

  ‘Mum, stop it! Ewww. I do not want to hear you saying the S word again.’ Luckily, Daniel was in the toilet so hadn’t heard. Esme could only imagine the emotional damage he’d suffer hearing his granny talk like that. ‘Honestly, Mum, it’s fine. I’ve got the gang coming over for a live Boxing Day Bake Off. I thought it’d be a great way to show people how to use up leftovers. Me and Helena are going head-to-head. All in good fun though.’