The Christmas Calendar Girls

by Samantha Tonge

  Oh God. Pity. I didn’t need that.

  ‘And it’s in the past. Really.’ I forced a laugh. ‘My head was still all over the place after that fall on the ice rink, so don’t flatter yourself it was anything more than that.’

  He stared at me for a moment and ran a hand through his hair. ‘You mean it? Because, Fern… I really don’t want to lose your friendship. Without you, these last few months… I’ve hated the last week or so… But I understand if…’ The way those chestnut eyes looked at me made me feel as if there was no one else in the playground.

  I inhaled and exhaled.

  There are some moments in life – big and small – when you need to listen to your gut. Like at school when a well-meaning English teacher told me I wasn’t hardnosed enough to follow my dream of becoming a journalist. I understood why she said that but – deep down – knew she was wrong. I never thought that everyone who worked on a newspaper was an insensitive, ruthless hack. I’d always believed that the passion for a story and determination were the most important things and I still reckoned I was right.

  Then there was Adam… the day he told me he didn’t want to do any more chemo. My heart willed me to persuade him to carry on – but in my gut I knew it was time to let my husband go.

  And now there was this. Kit. My bruised ego was telling me to give him the brush-off but, in my gut, I couldn’t do that. He was a decent person. He’d have a valid reason for ending our kiss. The core of me knew that.

  ‘We’re good,’ I said. ‘Honestly.’ I reached out and squeezed his hand.

  He smiled. ‘Great… I’ve missed your texts and silly gifs. How are the arrangements going for the living calendar? I’ve heard some of the kids talk about it.’

  ‘Do they seem excited?’

  ‘Yeah… sure…’ He nodded a little too vigorously.

  I sighed. ‘I am worried it will appeal more to adults.’

  ‘Not with all the snacks and drinks, surely?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know, but we really need the children on board. After a day at work it’s not going to appeal to everyone to go outside and stand in the cold. Whereas if people’s little ones are urging them on…’

  Kit cocked his head. ‘This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. And it’s a responsibility. It was my idea and now I’ve got people’s hopes up. What if it fails?’ I pulled my coat’s zip up higher, thinking once again of the homeless who depended on Ron. About that phone call last night. About other things that could go wrong.

  ‘If anyone can do this, superwoman Fern Fletcher can,’ he said.

  ‘Tease if you must – although I could do with a golden lasso to throw around a huge pile of cash.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m not joking. I mean it. Just look how you’ve galvanised parents into action already.’

  I wrung my hands together. Yes, but had I done enough?

  Kit stared at me. ‘What you really need is something – or someone – important and tangible that adds weight to the event.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We once ran a series of summer parties in London. It was 2016. They were fancy dress. We weren’t sure if they would take off. Due to the Rio Olympics we decided on a sports fancy dress theme, dedicating each night to a different event. Like tennis. Swimwear – that was held in a club with an indoor pool. The horse-riding night was most popular, what with whips and tight jodhpurs…’ He gave a sheepish smile. ‘But this wasn’t enough to bring in big ticket sales. So we managed to book a couple of retired Olympians to make an appearance. One even acted as a guest DJ. Despite their fees, we still made a profit. Celebrities always add a sense of excitement and gravitas.’

  I pulled a face. ‘Not sure I know of any celebrities local to Alderston.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘No, but if you want… it’s only an idea… I guess I could…’

  ‘Kit! Spit it out,’ I said, any awkwardness forgotten for a moment.

  ‘How about I turn up on, say, the first and last nights, dressed as the ultimate Christmas celebrity… Father Christmas himself?’

  Regret crossed his face as soon as he said it. And I understood why. This idea was as far out of his comfort zone as having another date with Oliver would be for me. A lump formed in my throat.

  ‘You’d really do that?’ My heart lifted for the first time in a few days.

  ‘I can tell this means a lot to you,’ he said quietly.

  We looked at each other.

  ‘Truth is, I’d forgotten what it was like to have a real friend,’ he said.

  ‘What about your friends in London?’

  ‘I haven’t kept in touch with a single one. I’ve realised a lot of them weren’t real friends at all. They liked my reputation. My money. The parties I took them to. The glimpses of famous people.’

  ‘What about those you set the business up with?’ I asked.

  His face had darkened. ‘They were good friends but I wasn’t.’

  Was that why he made that comment about me and Lily being able to do so much better?

  I paused. ‘Well, you’ve been a good friend to me.’

  His brow furrowed. ‘How? You helped me find this job. You’ve given me the confidence to start building a life again.’

  ‘And… and you’ve kind of done the same for me. You’re the first man I’ve let get close, since Adam. When he died I felt as if my world had ended. All the plans. Us maybe giving Lily a sibling. Watching the two of them grow up. Us achieving great things at work and supporting each other. Then retirement. Travelling the world. It’s taken time but… moving to Alderston… you, Davina, Cara… slowly the void is filling and I’m accepting that maybe, just maybe, everyone has more than one life story and it’s time I got writing my next one.’

  He nodded. ‘I can’t compare what happened to me to losing a partner, but I get it, Fern. When my London life imploded I didn’t know which way to turn. I felt like I’d lost my compass. Like you say – the story I was writing was erased. The sheets were blank. I didn’t have a clue about the next plot or characters. And then you asking me questions about how I was going to find a job, your gentle interest and help, it gave me focus and motivation. And…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s going to sound stupid.’

  ‘Try me.’ I smiled.

  ‘It gave me faith that I didn’t have to be this amazing, popular party animal for someone as… as brilliant as you to want to get to know me.’

  A lump rose in my throat. We could still be friends – even if he was dating someone else. I mean, it was only a matter of weeks since I’d been telling myself the idea of me and him was a joke. Our connection was too important to lose.

  ‘As for me being Father Christmas, it’s the least I can do for Ron and the food bank. They saved my life. I’m often busy in the evenings but a couple of nights won’t matter. And I’d be done by 7 p.m. anyway, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. That’s agreed, then.’

  ‘Oh, Kit. That would be wonderful. I can just picture the children’s excitement. You could sit outside and listen to what they want for Christmas.’

  ‘I know the manager of the pound shop in Chesterwood really well, having shopped there so often. I could ask if he’d donate any sweets for me to hand out to the children.’

  ‘And what about an outfit?’ I looked him up and down.

  ‘I know my way around the local charity shops and jumble sales. There must be red trousers and jackets out there somewhere. Or I could use dye. I’ll get onto it tomorrow.’

  I pressed my palm to my chest. ‘This is brilliant. I’m feeling much more positive already.’

  His face lit up as if my palm had actually pressed a happiness button on him.

  ‘Fern! There you are.’ Davina came over, in her cherry red hat and gloves, suede blazer and matching boots. She glanced at Kit and then back at me. I told her about Kit’s idea.

  ‘That’s fabulous. My boys will love
it. In fact…’ She thought for a minute. ‘One of Max’s brickies, he’s a big man, and last year he was Santa for his son’s cubs group. I’ll ask if he’s still got his outfit.’

  Kit gave a thumbs-up before crouching down again. He wasn’t wearing a coat and the back of his jumper rode up revealing tanned, toned muscles. A glimpse of the taut waist. A hint of the long torso. I caught Davina’s eye as I looked away. We walked over to Cara.

  ‘Oh. My. God,’ whispered Davina.

  ‘What?’ asked Cara. Was that a pyjama top I could see, peeking out from the top of her jacket? She’d never worn bedclothes on the school run before. Not that it mattered. Several parents did. But not Cara – especially not with Audrey around.

  ‘I believe our Fern does have eyes for our caretaker after all.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Davina. I’ve told you, we get on really well but he’s…’ I fiddled with the end of my scarf and said the first thing that came into my head. ‘For a start he’s so tall compared to me.’

  ‘And that’s a bad thing because…?’

  It’s not.

  Even Cara chuckled.

  ‘Although it would feel a little weird, you dating Father Christmas,’ said Davina.

  ‘What?’ asked Cara and rubbed her arms to fight the wintry nip in the air.

  Davina and I explained. Cara couldn’t wait to tell Hannah and Lex – keeping Father Christmas’s real identity a secret, of course.

  It meant so much. Kit didn’t like attention. Oh, he chatted to parents in the playground but that was only banter about the weather or school projects or last night’s television. But agreeing to do this… Ron would really appreciate it.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m only teasing,’ said Davina. ‘Although I suspect you’re the only woman in the playground immune to his appeal. You know, he caught Jasper worrying about his maths in the playground last week. Jasper has always found the concept of division tricky and even though I’m an accountant I struggle to explain it in a comprehensive way. But your Kit did just that. In his own way, he’s becoming as much of an asset to the school as dear old Jim. I’ll be sorry to see him leave in the spring.’ She gave a sigh. ‘And at least Jasper let him help. He won’t allow me lately – talks about all this big boy nonsense and him being able to manage on his own.’

  I squeezed Davina’s arm.

  ‘Is the map of the calendar route finished?’ Cara asked, changing the subject away from men I might like.

  She was reliable like that – never one to relish others’ discomfort; always looking to help the underdog. Like at sports day. As well as cheering on Hannah and Lex she always threw in a few shouts for the children coming last.

  I pulled a sheet of paper out of my pocket and sighed. Last weekend we’d all had fun putting it together. We’d walked around the estate, drawing the direction and curves of the road in order, according to the houses taking part. Then when we’d got back, I made lunch. Davina drew out the map properly, marking crosses for the twenty-four stops. Then Cara helped the children decorate it with little pictures of trees and post boxes. The final task was for me to list the companies sponsoring the event, on the back. The total number was impressive, some offering physical donations in the form of snacks, from corner shops to well-known supermarkets. Others were residents’ employers giving money, including a law firm, computer company, a bookshop and fashion house.

  ‘I thought it was done until late last night. The Head said I could print off as many copies as I need here. I was going to take it to the secretary’s office now. Tonight, Lily and I should be posting them around the estate. Megan said she’d help. But there’s been a last minute emergency…’ I rubbed my forehead.

  ‘What kind of emergency?’ asked Davina as she smiled at a passing dad she knew.

  ‘Remember we’d tried to guess what sort of display people would create?’ One family went skiing every year so we reckoned theirs would feature snow – a theory confirmed later by Audrey, who’d seen the mum, Cheri, walk past carrying bags full of cotton wool.

  My two friends nodded.

  ‘Last night I got a phone call from the parent due to host number nine. He was furious. Said he’d told Cheri that he was doing a snow scene and mentioned the shop that was selling cotton wool off cheap. Yesterday he overheard Cheri telling another parent about her display and the great deal she’d got on the decorations. She’d emptied the shop of all the necessary materials. Needless to say, number nine has pulled out saying he didn’t want to get involved with anything that was so unneighbourly.’

  ‘Oh no. But I can understand him getting upset,’ said Cara. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I told him I’d ring Cheri – ask if she would sell him half of her supplies at the discounted cost. But he just said to leave it. He apologised. Said his heart wasn’t in it any more. So there’s one slot remaining. I’ve got to get the map printed and handed out today – or tomorrow at the very latest.’

  Cara pulled out her phone. ‘Give me a minute.’ She dialled a number, explained the situation, thanked the person on the end of the phone and came off looking like her old self. ‘One of my friends from the reading club initially said no but then changed her mind when she told her kids and they got really excited. But by then all the slots had been filled. She’s thrilled and would love to do it, even though it’s late notice.’

  ‘Oh Cara.’ I gave her a tight hug. ‘Thank you. What’s her address?’

  I completed the map, knots in my neck and shoulders disappearing.

  ‘I can’t believe Cheri, but I suppose a degree of one-upmanship is unavoidable,’ muttered Davina.

  It could be a competitive business, having children, starting with whose baby weaned first. That’s why I loved Davina and Cara. The three of us never tried to outshine each other.

  ‘Are you ready for next Monday, Fern?’ asked Davina. ‘And still refusing to tell us anything about your display? I really feel you should give us a clue, seeing as we’re helping you organise this whole thing and it’s the first night.’ She grinned.

  ‘Yes, I am ready, and yes, still refusing.’ All the participants were keeping their plans to themselves, wanting the reveal of their windows each night to be a surprise for everyone – apart from Cheri. It sounded as if she was only too pleased to boast about hers. ‘I’m looking forward to the market tomorrow night.’

  ‘We can catch the four-thirty bus,’ said Cara. ‘That gives the children time to pop home and change into warm clothes. Hannah can’t wait. Other children from the class are going.’

  ‘Mr Carlton is too,’ said Davina. ‘Mia was talking again. Her chatty son told him that his mum’s client had seen him kissing in the park. Apparently, Mr Carlton said he was meeting this friend at the market tomorrow.’

  I’d thought about Kit kissing another woman, since first finding out, and had decided that there were different types, for parents, children, siblings, friends… and frogs. Whoever this friend in the park was, Kit said he wasn’t ready for a relationship and regardless of whether their lips had met or not, I believed him.

  15

  This was the last Friday in November. I couldn’t believe the living calendar was starting on Monday. Each day my nerves were increasing. They hadn’t been helped by another complaint last night. One resident said she and her friends were concerned about litter. I did my best to reassure her that all remnants of snacks and drinks would be cleared away every evening.

  Organising the calendar hadn’t all been stressful. Davina and Cara had shared the load. It just felt like it sometimes, especially with Kit being on my mind as well.

  Because that was the problem with romantic feelings. You couldn’t just snuff them out.

  Sometimes I worried I’d never meet another man.

  I didn’t need one to look after myself and Lily. But I wanted the company. The closeness.

  I missed that.

  My thoughts switched back to the calendar. Lily and I had put aside Sunday to bake our fairy cakes and put
the finishing touches to our display. We would then keep our front curtains drawn until the following night so that it was still a surprise for callers. I’d bought in plastic cups for the drinks. The seven day forecast said the whole of next week was due to be rain free. I was keeping my fingers crossed that the prediction was right, having fielded calls from participants worried they’d have lots of refreshments left over if no one turned up.

  I walked through the school gates. I’d passed several houses that had put their Christmas lights up early and were switching them on each day for the afternoon school run. Lily would love the newly erected free standing family of reindeer I’d just spotted.

  I rubbed my eyes. Straight from dropping Lily off this morning, I’d interviewed the manager of Alderston Park. On returning home I wrote the first draft of my column in which I’d be calling out to pensioners in the locality to help in a variety of roles. I’d also pitched an article about phantom pregnancies to one of the health magazines I regularly sold pieces to, after a mum in the playground had confided in me about this relatively unknown condition.

  All in all, I was looking forward to our trip to the Christmas market. It had almost been cancelled at Davina’s and my suggestion. Hannah and Lex had turned up to school this morning with tear-stained faces. Last night Pickle had died. They found the hamster curled up asleep – or so they’d first thought.

  ‘They’ll be okay for going out tonight,’ Cara reassured us when she told us just before the bell had rung. ‘It will distract them from the upset. And Hannah wants to buy a little wooden ornament to put on his grave, so that Pickle can have a nice Christmas too. We buried him early this morning. I’m hoping one of the German stalls has got one that isn’t too expensive.’

  I headed over to where Cara was standing. Davina wasn’t there yet. Instead of being her usual ten minutes early, she was cutting it fine every Friday because of helping out at the food bank.

  ‘Not too cold, is it?’ I said to Cara. ‘Thank goodness. The December markets can be freezing in the evening.’

  ‘Ah, well, I won’t need to buy us hot chocolates then,’ she said and grinned.