by Kate Forster
Petey looked at the page, running his finger down the list and then stopped.
‘Hartley. Stag clearing,’ he read aloud.
‘A what?’ she asked.
‘In Anglo-Saxon times, “hart” meant a male deer, a stag, and “lea” meant a clearing of wood. It would have meant your family lived where the deer stood in the clearings.’
Christa put her hands over her face. ‘Ever since I have been here I keep seeing this stag near Pudding Hall. I’ve seen him three times and once in the dell,’ she said to Peggy. ‘He was so close I could see the velvet on his antlers. And then Marc gave me a Christmas decoration of a deer family. Don’t you think that’s weird?’ she asked.
Petey shook his head. ‘No, I think you have an affinity with them and now you know why. I know Pudding Hall was once home to large deer clearing and hunters used to come before Mr Ferrier bought it. I don’t think he hunts though?’ he asked Peggy.
She shook her head. ‘No, never, there isn’t even a gun in the house.’
‘I love knowing the meaning of my name, Petey. Thank you for telling me.’ Christa stood up. ‘And now I have to go and find something formal to wear to my dinner,’ she said, feeling excited at the thought of wearing something other than jeans and jumpers.
Peggy grabbed her bag and patted Petey on the shoulder. ‘I’m off to run some errands.’
‘Do you want a lift anywhere?’ asked Christa but Peggy declined and soon Christa was on her way to find a dress worthy of the new Christa Hartley.
35
Christa drove her car towards Pudding Hall, turning off at the driveway. It was already dark and she put her driving lights on high as she navigated the driveway. She really didn’t want to hit a fox, or a deer for that matter.
In the distance she saw the lights of beautiful Pudding Hall, welcoming her, and emotion welled up inside her. She thought her time at Pudding Hall was gone but now she was having her birthday dinner there and Christmas as well. Don’t cry, she told herself. Not only had she bought a dress but she’d also had her short hair washed and dried so it was a shiny, beautiful cap and her makeup had been done by a girl whose had more piercings in her face than Christa had ever seen but she made Christa look like a beautiful version of herself, with smoky eye makeup and flawless skin.
And when Christa had shown her the dress, which was carefully hung in a dress bag, the girl had exclaimed she had a perfect shade of plum lipstick to go with it.
Christa stopped her car on the driveway and took some deep breaths and tipped her head back to stop the tears from falling.
When she finally trusted herself not to ruin her face, she looked out of the window and she saw the red stag in the centre of the driveway staring at her straight on.
Please don’t run at my car. The stag lowered his head for a long moment and then lifted it again and slowly walked across the drive and into the darkness.
But what did the deer mean? she wondered. She wasn’t a superstitious person but she knew it meant something. She wondered if her dad knew what their name meant. It probably didn’t mean much when you were a lorry driver in London but she knew there was significance even though she couldn’t work it out.
She drove slowly in the dark, not just for safety but also to savour the drive to the house. She wanted to make a mental snapshot of the lead-up to this moment.
She didn’t know what would happen – maybe she and Marc were just a flirtation and it was only desire but it felt so good to be wanted again and she had never felt more beautiful.
Her phone rang and she pressed the hands-free device.
‘Baby girl, happy birthday,’ cried Selene’s voice. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you for the past week, but my God my life has been crazy since you recommended me to Avian. I signed the contract today and then they had me filming promos right away. I’m in the middle of every shot with the other judges because I’m the woman. A black Frenchwoman no less. I am going to change the world one plate at a time. I’m sick of writing reviews for already well-known places. I’m excited to find raw talent!’
‘You were always going to be a star,’ Christa said, meaning it. She had recommended Selene to Marc who had told Avian. There was no one better who was camera-ready and who was both smart and funny.
Selene sounded genuinely excited as she told her about the day, and how one of the guest chefs from France had asked her opinion on his next career move. Giving advice was Selene’s favourite thing to do, so when combined with restaurant and food industry conversation, Selene shone like no one else.
‘What are you doing for your birthday?’ Selene asked.
‘Dinner at Pudding Hall,’ she said. ‘Nothing special.’
‘Oh? How are things with the fancy billionaire?’ she asked.
‘Complicated and involved but I can’t tell you now, as I’m arriving at the house. I do need to debrief though. Can I call you on Boxing Day?’
‘I don’t know why you still have this Boxing Day. We don’t have it in France – silly holiday,’ Selene complained.
‘That’s because French people don’t eat their own weight in goose and pudding and drink too much on Christmas and then get indigestion and need to spend the following day moaning about how awful they feel.’
Selene laughed. ‘I will be at my parents’ but will fly back to London that night. Call me. Happy birthday again, my friend.’
‘I will. Bye,’ said Christa and she finally parked the car at the house and smoothed out her dress.
It was pink. Of course, it was pink. When she had been with Simon her evening wear was always black and quiet. Minimal and streamlined.
This was nothing like that.
Fuchsia pink silk that fell below the knee, with a fitted top and a flared skirt.
The V-shaped neckline showed off her creamy skin in both the front and back, and the gathered shoulder strap detail was delicate and flattering. A thin black velvet ribbon was tied around the waist and she had black velvet pumps that were surprisingly comfortable.
There was so much fabric in the skirt that Christa had to resist the urge to do a spin in the dress as she walked towards the house.
Something cold fell on her back and she put her hand out and saw snow.
‘Oh come on,’ she said aloud, looking at the sky. She really was living the fairy tale. Before she got to the front door, she stood in the snow and looked up at the sky and twirled around, letting the pink skirt spin out around her.
‘What a moment,’ she heard and stopped twirling and looked up to see Marc standing in a dinner suit on the steps of the house.
Christa smiled. ‘I just felt so pretty, and it’s snowing,’ she said. He looked incredible, as though the dinner suit was cut just for him. It probably was, she reminded herself, hoping her pink dress was enough.
‘You look incredible,’ he said and he came down to take her hand and they walked to the front door together.
‘Happy birthday, Christa,’ he said turning to her.
‘Thank you, Marc,’ she said and he kissed her on the cheek and opened the door.
The Christmas tree was dressed in all her glory and beneath the tree were piles of presents in all colours.
Marc led the way to the formal sitting room, a room Christa hadn’t seen but to walk past. She didn’t think anyone had used it during her time at Pudding Hall but now when he opened the door she wondered why it wasn’t used every day.
The fire was burning in the grate and the room was filled with pink flowers.
Candles and soft lighting warmed the room and Marc took her to sit in a large armchair with an archway of balloons in different shades of pink over the top, and a sign above reading, Christa, the Birthday Queen.
Christa felt the tears fall as Marc helped her sit and she bit her lip to try and stop them falling.
‘Happy birthday,’ she heard and then the door burst open and in came her favourite people.
The twins in little dinner suits, which was too cute, she
thought, and Adam and Paul looking so handsome and glamorous.
‘Oh wow, you’re wearing a velvet dinner jacket,’ she said, touching Pauls’ arm as she went to hug him.
‘And you have on velvet shoes. Do they come in men’s sizes?’ he asked as she squeezed him tight. Paul had been a true friend to her during her time at Pudding Hall.
Adam kissed her cheek and looked her in the eye. ‘Happy birthday, Christa. You are one in a million, and I mean that.’
She hugged him. ‘Thank you, Adam.’
And then walked in Peggy and Petey. Peggy in a sparkling top and a long black skirt and Petey looking like a happy penguin in his dinner suit.
‘Oh my God,’ she cried. They were like surrogate parents and now she knew how much they meant to her.
‘You knew!’ she accused them.
‘Of course I knew, Christa, I know everything that happens in this house,’ Peggy said firmly and Christa laughed.
Waitstaff in white shirts and black trousers came in then with trays of drinks.
‘This is a Love Potion,’ said Marc to Christa as he handed her a gold-rimmed martini glass, with what looked to be a steaming liquid but then she realised it was dry ice.
‘Goodness,’ she said as she took the glass from him. ‘What’s in it?’
The waiter answered, ‘Pomegranate juice, strawberry vodka, and Chambord.’
There was a gold arrow with strawberries cut into heart shapes speared on it, sitting in the drink, and Christa thought she could have died in this moment and been happy but decided against it since she knew there was more to come.
Everyone had their drinks, and Marc raised his glass to Christa, the birthday queen of hearts he said, and then everyone raised their glasses and said, ‘To Christa,’ and she cried.
She couldn’t help it but no one seemed to mind.
More staff came into the room with canapés and drinks and somewhere Christa could hear music playing.
‘Where is the music coming from?’ she asked Marc and he showed her out the door, where there was a small swing jazz band playing on the landing of the stairs.
‘Are you kidding me? It’s Christmas Eve. Where did you get all of this from? The staff, the food, which is excellent by the way. Did you try those blinis?’
Back in the sitting room, Seth and Ethan both wanted to sit by Christa.
‘When can Christa open her presents?’ asked Seth.
‘Now,’ said Marc and Seth and Ethan ran to the table and came back holding two large boxes.
‘Two presents?’ she said and looked up at Marc. ‘This is a lot.’
He looked unconcerned at her worry and took a sip from his cocktail.
‘Too bad, we’re only just beginning. So, get ready for the best birthday you’ve ever had in your life.’
Love Potion #9 Cocktail
Ingredients
1 cup pomegranate juice
80ml/2¾fl oz strawberry vodka
80ml/2¾fl oz Chambord Black Raspberry Liqueur
2 small chunks dry ice (optional)
2 strawberries cut into hearts for garnish (optional)
Method
In a cocktail shaker, combine the pomegranate juice, vodka, and Chambord. Shake to combine.
Place one chunk of dry ice into the bottom of each glass.
Pour the martini over a very small piece of dry ice.
Garnish with skewered strawberry hearts if desired. Pretty cute :)
Wait 5–10 minutes for the dry ice to dissolve (and enjoy the fun show!) before drinking.
36
Marc worried it was too much for Christa but if he could have tied up the world in a pink ribbon then he would have.
The evening had gone perfectly, with presents given. The boys had given her a Lego set of a bakery to make together.
‘I can’t wait,’ said Christa, clearly meaning it, and Marc saw how happy they were to be around her.
Avian had left without much fuss. At times Marc wondered if they even realised they could have a close relationship with their mother but he knew it was her job to create the connection, not the boys, and he hoped it would happen one day.
Paul had given her a silk pillowcase and sleep mask and Adam had given her a gift box of Jo Malone perfumes.
Peggy, ever practical, gave her a book of traditional Yorkshire recipes that Christa had been very enthusiastic about.
‘There’s more to us than just Yorkshire puddings,’ announced Peggy to the room.
‘No doubt,’ agreed Paul and she smiled at him.
‘He’s the cultured one,’ Marc heard her whisper to Petey.
Petey gave her her own fudge that he had named after her. ‘Christa Pudding,’ he said and she laughed, and opened the bag and took a nibble.
‘Brandy. Lemon.’ She paused. ‘Glacé cherries. Nutmeg. Molasses?’
She looked at Petey who nudged Marc. ‘She’s got a fine set of taste buds on her that one.’
And Marc.
He handed her a small box and she opened it carefully.
‘Oh, Marc, it’s beautiful,’ she whispered, and she took the delicate chain from the box and held it up to admire the charm.
‘It’s a pudding,’ said Marc feeling silly now she was holding it.
‘I know,’ she said holding it to the light.
‘It’s tourmaline and the holly is emeralds and rubies, and the custard or icing, I don’t know what you call it, they’re diamonds,’ he said hurriedly but she was already trying to put it on, not listening to him as he tried to convince her of the credentials of the jewels.
‘I love it so much,’ she said as he took over and fixed the clasp around her neck.
‘It feels so nice against my skin,’ she said and she turned to him to show him. ‘Look how cute it is,’ she said looking down at the charm.
‘You can change it,’ he said. ‘If it’s too childish.’
‘Are you kidding?’ She laughed at him. ‘I love pink and Lego and pudding and you,’ she said and then caught herself and he smiled at her.
‘Sorry, too much,’ she said and pretended to rewind her words. ‘Probably the Love Potion playing tricks on me.’ But he saw her blush and the way she touched the charm and he kissed her cheek before leaning in close to her ear.
‘I love you too, Christa, so much.’
She grabbed his hand and he resisted the urge to carry her upstairs to bed because they still had dinner to go.
There wasn’t a single low point of the night. Christa sat at the head of the table, and they ate their way through a delicious dinner of bruschetta, salmon and lemon risotto, salad, fresh bread and beautiful wine. It was light and fresh and everything he knew Christa loved.
And then the pièce de résistance was brought in.
Marc opened the door and Peggy carefully carried in a large cake covered in pink iced roses and with tapered candles glowing and flickering as Marc started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone joined in. Christa cried happily as she blew out the candles.
‘Make a wish,’ yelled Ethan.
Marc saw her glance at him and smile as she then cut the cake. Peggy served it and they drank tea and laughed and the boys performed magic tricks they had been teaching themselves from the internet. Finally Marc said it was time for the last part of the night.
‘Come on, everyone,’ he said, standing up and opening the door to the foyer.
The waitstaff were lined up holding coats and everyone slipped into them.
‘This is exciting,’ said Peggy.
‘You do know it’s snowing,’ said Christa as she zipped up the coat.
‘We won’t be out for long,’ he said as he was helping the boys into their coats.
The party stood on the front steps and looked out into the dark night. There was a light dusting of snow on the steps and Marc wondered why he had thought even for a minute he would sell Pudding Hall.
The sound came first and then the sky glowed as the first firework exploded and the party clapped an
d cheered. The boys yelled as the Catherine wheels and rockets flew through the night sky. The sky glittered with fiery rain and then burst into peony-shaped flowers of pink and red and orange and blue until the last one fired into the sky and the night fell silent again.
‘Happy birthday, Christa,’ he said to her and she turned to him.
He wasn’t sure when everyone had left them alone on the steps, but all he knew was her lips were on his and he had never felt happier than in that moment.
‘You are so beautiful for going to all this effort for me,’ she said when she finally pulled away and Marc held her cold face in his hands.
‘That’s the thing, it’s no effort. I would do this every day if I could but I know you would hate it.’
Christa kissed him and again and shivered.
‘Inside. It’s freezing. And I have to put those kids to bed.’
*
Peggy and Petey said their goodbyes and held Christa close.
‘We are coming back for lunch tomorrow. Marc invited us,’ Peggy said.
‘Who is doing the cooking?’ asked Christa.
‘He has someone apparently, a chef whom he paid huge money to so you don’t have to cook, he said to me.’
Christa waved them goodbye and closed the front door. Adam and Paul had gone to bed and the waitstaff had cleaned up.
She kicked off her shoes and sat on the long sofa in front of the dying fire in the sitting room, watching the coals glow.
It was such a beautiful birthday, she thought. Not because of the excess and largesse but because everyone made themselves available. They didn’t say there would be more presents tomorrow or not to eat too much because there was Christmas lunch the next day. They all made sure she was celebrated and that was enough. She could happily never have a birthday again, as this night would be enough to see her through till she died.
‘You okay?’ she heard Marc ask as he closed the door behind him.
She turned and smiled. ‘I’m more than okay, I’m content,’ she said.