Kit came around the side of the building, carrying a bucket. We caught each other’s gaze. I was glad for the distraction when my phone rang, and wondered if things between him and me would ever feel the same again.
‘Hello? Yes, that’s me. Yes… hmm…’ I held the phone away from my mouth for a moment and, pulse racing, took a deep breath. I spoke into the phone again. ‘People will have to pay for the refreshments but I’ll bear your concerns in mind. Goodbye.’
Cara raised an eyebrow as I slipped my phone into my pocket muttering something unsuitable for a primary school playground under my breath.
‘I’m beginning to regret putting my mobile number in the Facebook group.’
‘What now?’
‘You couldn’t make it up! A Mrs Green is worried the snacks and drinks will attract the rough sleepers and “all the problems they bring with them”. Can you believe it? I think she’s missed the point about whom this calendar is trying to help.’ I shook my head. ‘I’m half expecting people to appear on Monday with pickets, demonstrating against the whole bloody thing.’
I joined Cara’s laughter but my stomach clenched.
The bell went and children ran out of classrooms, babbling with plans for the weekend ahead. Proudly Lily carried a Jackson Pollock inspired painting she’d worked on all week. Davina rushed up, looking at her watch. We waited but the twins didn’t appear. Instead the teacher did. She beckoned to Davina.
‘We’ll hang on,’ said Cara.
Fifteen minutes later the three of them came out. Jasper had wet eyes, and Arlo a bruise around one of his. Davina’s mouth was pursed. She jerked her head towards me and Cara, and we stood to one side whilst the children talked.
‘Really sorry, ladies, but me and the boys won’t be going tonight. So I’ll have to miss that trip on the bus I was so looking forward to…’ She gave a wry smile.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked.
She pulled down her fur headband. ‘The twins have been fighting. No one saw the incident but Miss Jones finally got the truth out of them. Jasper actually punched Arlo. I can’t believe it. But they won’t tell anyone what the argument was about. Quite rightly, Miss Jones says she won’t condone behaviour like that. Seeing as neither has been in trouble before and it has happened between brothers – and not involved another child – she is leaving it to me to sort out. But if it happens again, she says the perpetrator might be excluded for a day. And I don’t blame her.’
‘Fighting? Your two? I can’t believe it,’ I said and shook my head.
‘They’re always so close,’ said Cara.
Davina’s voice sounded strained. ‘I know. But I suppose it’s naive to think that will never change. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new phase… what with Jasper behaving differently this term…’ She cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, it also might just be a one-off. I’m not going to catastrophize, but I can’t let it go without any sort of punishment, so they’ll both be missing the trip tonight. Sorry to let you both down. I’m really disappointed.’
She headed off, the boys in tow, Arlo dragging his feet, Jasper wiping his face.
‘Are you still up for it?’ asked Cara. ‘Hannah really wanted to get that ornament and after last night, they need cheering up. Perhaps we can go a second time with Davina. There are always too many stalls to see them all in one go.’
‘Of course. Hot chocolate, remember?’ I said and gave a thumbs-up.
Hannah and Lex were still quiet on the bus. As we got off all the children stared at a homeless man, asleep in the shelter.
‘Why hasn’t he got anywhere to go?’ asked Lily.
‘People end up on the streets for all sorts of reasons,’ I said. ‘The important thing to remember is that they are just like us, but with lots of problems.’
‘Is he someone we are trying to help, with the calendar? Do you think he goes to the food bank?’
‘It’s very likely,’ I said.
She looked thoughtful as we headed off.
Hannah and Lex’s faces finally lit up as we emerged from the alley and into Churchill Square. They stood mesmerised by the twinkling trees. Gratefully, I walked into the distracting hustle and bustle of the square, hoping it would distract me from memories of my recent visit there with Kit.
‘Keep close,’ I said to the children. ‘If we get parted speak to one of the adults wearing a yellow security jacket.’ I pointed to a man walking past. ‘Or if you can’t see one of them, try an adult running a stall. Okay? Someone in charge.’
The three of them nodded.
Hannah and Lily walked ahead. Lex stayed with me and Cara.
‘Overwhelming, isn’t it?’ I said, taking in the sensory overload of brightly coloured gifts and delicious smell of street food.
‘How about a hot dog first?’ said Cara. ‘The kids must be hungry after school.’
The children didn’t need asking twice and we walked away from the ice rink on the left and straight past all the gift stalls, to the row of log cabins, on the far-right side, that housed the caterers. We stood for a moment and simply breathed in the buffet of smells, some meaty and spiced, others pandering to a sweet tooth. Up and down we ambled, eyes widening at the array of steaming dishes including whole huge circular metal plates covered in sizzling burgers and German sausages. There was schnitzel as well, along with deep pans of goulash. My stomach rumbled at the sight of pancakes and Dutch waffles smothered in Nutella or maple syrup. And as for the choice of strudels, served in polystyrene trays, bathing in buttercup yellow custard, all washed down with soft drinks and coffee, or Glühwein and beer, or hot chocolate with cherry liqueur in… After much contemplation the children stuck with hot dogs and juice, whilst Cara and I each enjoyed a strudel slice and a hot chocolate.
‘Can I buy something to eat for that man in the bus shelter?’ asked Lily, after finishing her drink. ‘We could give it to him on the way back. I want it to come out of my pocket money.’
I gave her a sideways hug.
‘Daddy said in his book of advice that we should always help others because it’s kind and – who knows – one day we might need help ourselves.’
We bought a bag of mini donuts.
I collected up the children’s empty boxes and cups and threw them into one of the overflowing bins. We used the temporary toilets and then headed towards the gift stalls. As we did the festive pop music changed to German carols and the raucous laughter of drinkers was left behind for the earnest mutterings of shoppers.
‘I think I’ve gone to heaven,’ said Cara and pulled down her woolly hat after we’d enjoyed another drink. ‘That spiced winter fruit strudel was divine. I must try my hand at making it. Perhaps for Christmas Eve.’ She linked her arm through mine.
We linked arms a lot, Cara, Davina and me. It felt good – like holding hands with Lily. I missed physical contact. Adam was a hugger and could hug away a bad day in seconds. I used to laugh about it being a magic power. Now I’ve realised it really was. The joke was on me.
It was a relief to see Cara in such good spirits and I only wished it had lasted longer, but once we’d managed to get the children past the stall of German chocolate, Lex complained that her hands were cold. We stopped whilst Cara rummaged in her rucksack. Neither Lex’s nor Hannah’s gloves were there. She was usually so methodical when it came to parenting. Fallen over? She had a plaster. Got a headache? Her handbag would contain an aspirin – as if her life was governed by the Girl Guides’ Keep Calm and Be Prepared mantra.
Until lately.
Forgetting gloves was a small thing – understandable after a Friday rush home and out to catch a bus. But small things became big when they happened often. Lily insisted on lending hers to Lex. I could sense Cara’s frustration as we moved on to the wooden Christmas bauble stall.
Whilst Lily was distracted, chatting with her friends, I bought her a bright slab of orangeade scented soap, a colourful purse in the shape of an owl and a bag of Christmas pudding flavoured fudge. For her
main present this year Lily was hoping for a football ticket to see her favourite team. She’d never been to a match. If I’d been feeling sorry for myself I could have wallowed in the fact that Adam wasn’t here to share her passion. But the truth was, he was no football fan. Lily’s interest had come from her school friends.
Mum and Dad had been on a health kick all year and I knew would like the porcelain set of salt and pepper cellars in the shape of avocados. For Megan next door I found a silver necklace with a small star, snowflake and penguin. She’d become a good friend of Lily’s and a trustworthy babysitter. Cara looked at a coin tray for John. I missed having a partner to shop for. Although there was nothing to say I couldn’t buy Kit a modest gift. I mean, friends wished each other a good Christmas. Last year Cara had given me a small hamper filled with homemade chutneys, pickled onions and chocolates. From Davina I’d received a gorgeous handbag from a shop where I couldn’t even afford to look in the window. She’d insisted she got it in a sale. And my gift for them had been tickets to Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5 musical, being put on by a local amateur dramatic group we’d seen perform before.
The first Christmas present Adam ever bought me was an exquisite rose gold engraved pen. It still made me laugh. It said From Adam but instead of kisses those words were followed by the emoji sticking tongue out face, because that’s how we always finished our texts to each other. He also bought me a special card. It gave me the biggest shock. When I pulled it out of the envelope and opened it, snowflakes burst into the air.
I wondered what sort of gift Kit would like as we pushed our way down another row of stalls featuring hand-knitted hats and flamboyant scarves. Buying him a gift was the least I could do, considering he’d committed to playing Father Christmas for the living calendar. I’d bought him a housewarming present when he’d first moved into his flat in Alderston. A set of knives. I’d told him there was now no excuse not to cook. So the following week, when Lily went to a birthday party, he made the two of us a stir-fry. I baked a cake and took it for dessert. He’d mentioned something about never doing this in London. How he always ate out or got in caterers if he was hosting a meal. The meal was delicious and he’d flushed when I said as much.
The crowds had swollen and I insisted on Lily holding my hand. By now the sky was inky-black. Despite the glow of streetlights, constellations of stars still stood out. The buzz the children felt was tangible as day turned into night. They were out with the grown-ups, there was food and drink and laughter and they wouldn’t get back until past bedtime.
We let them buy sweets from a pick’n’mix stall and bon bons muted their chatter. We bumped into a couple of parents from school who, like us, had gone together with their children. Ours shared their sweets. Theirs shared their French fries. Lex couldn’t stop yawning and said she needed the loo. Cara offered to take all three children for one last toilet stop before we left. I agreed to meet them by the ice rink. Lily and Hannah wanted to watch the skaters for a couple of minutes before we went home.
Navigating the throng of shoppers, I weaved my way to the rink, clinically lit up compared to the cosy and dimmer lights of the markets. Folding my arms for warmth, I looked on, glad to see no long lines forming. Teenagers mainly filled the space, apart from a few couples in their twenties – and a Viking-like man who stood out from the rest because of his height. Immediately I recognised Kit.
I watched him take the hand of a brunette and lead her off the ice. They were laughing. Then he hugged her before making his way to join the long queue at the refreshment hut. She came over my way and sat at a free table on my left. Glossy brown hair. Lithe figure. She was just how Mia had described the woman Kit had been seen kissing.
In fact… Oh. My. God.
I knew who she was.
16
‘Busy, isn’t it?’ I said to the woman. She looked up as I stood by her table.
‘Fern? I can’t believe it! How are you doing? It’s been…’
‘Over two years,’ I said and sat down. I reached out and briefly we clasped hands. ‘I was so thrilled to take over your column in the Express. How are things? You look absolutely fantastic.’ I almost hadn’t recognised Paula. I’d never seen her look so chirpy and she must have lost half her body weight.
‘Cheers.’
We talked about the paper. Briefly touched on the current local, national and international news. At university I sometimes used to wonder if choosing journalism had been the right decision. But when I’d got my first job and mixed with reporters and editors, it was as if I’d found my tribe. The wit, the passion, the ambition to uncover a good story… Paula and I had hit it off straightaway, despite her challenging situation.
‘Things have finally turned around for me in the last few months,’ she said, as we moved on to discussing her health. ‘Eighteen months of therapy and the medication seem to have done their job. Dad’s also been so supportive. I’ve only recently moved out of his house.’
She was a couple of years older than me. Her mum’s cancer and death had sent her into a downward spiral of eating and drinking too much. She ended up agoraphobic and spent her time inside, online, eventually getting hooked on glamorous looking Bingo sites. The editor had filled me in when I’d been offered her column. He’d realised something was seriously wrong after a few weeks of her turning up at the office late – or not at all.
‘I was so grateful, the way you gave me your contacts and told me about your years on the paper,’ I said. ‘It really helped me get a flavour of what its readers would expect.’
We’d met on several occasions for coffee and conversation had easily flowed. I’d even gone around to her house, once, and met her lovely dad. I’d talked about losing Adam one year before. She’d talked about her mum. Paula had asked how I’d held it together. I didn’t know how to answer.
‘And you’re doing a grand job,’ she said. ‘You know, I’ve read your piece every week.’
‘Thanks. I consider that a huge compliment. Are you still writing?’
‘I’ve been doing freelance editing and proofreading. Now I finally feel ready to look for a different kind of job – where I actually have to get out of the house and meet people…’
‘Yes. If it wasn’t for having to get Lily to the playground I could easily spend most of my days in front of the computer, wearing pyjamas and working.’
‘Or watching Netflix.’
We smiled.
‘An old colleague got in touch via LinkedIn,’ she said. ‘I’m meeting him for coffee next week. There might be an opening for me where he works, covering sports – that’s where I started out.’
‘I never knew that.’
She nodded. ‘Living with Dad lit the old spark. We’ve spent whole days together, watching football and golf, especially at the beginning when Mum’s death was still raw and I was really ill and neither of us knew what to say. It’s probably hard to believe that I was in the athletics and netball teams at school, what with the shape I used to be in. But at last I’m feeling more like the old me.’
Paula told me more about the treatment she’d had. The group therapy and appointments with a dietician. Plus she and her dad would do a Saturday morning park run together.
‘I know he’s been glad to have someone in the house since Mum died,’ she said. ‘Even though I’ve not been the best company at times. But moving out has really spurred me on.’ She tilted her head. ‘I remember you saying pretty much the same about when your husband passed away…’
‘Yes. Relying on other people when life gets tough… if it goes on for too long I believe it can become a habit instead of a need and the worry is you’ll never learn to pick yourself up again, or manage on your own. Part of me wanted to move in with my parents, but now I’m glad I didn’t.’
She gazed at the rink and back at me. ‘My mum took me ice-skating once, when I was little. This is my first time since. It’s much harder than I remember. I fell over twice.’
‘Tell me about it. I was lucky n
ot to crack a rib, the last time I was here.’
‘I’m just lucky to have Kit to help me,’ she said and flicked back her hair. A feminine gesture. One of confidence. It was good to see. The Paula I used to know always wore an apologetic air.
‘Kit?’ I asked, innocently.
‘He’s a good… friend.’
Why had she hesitated? It reminded me of when I was younger, in a new relationship and still getting used to calling the new partner a boyfriend.
‘You need a good friend to take you skating if you haven’t done it much before,’ I said, brightly. ‘It required a lot of patience to get me to the point where I’d circle the rink on my own.’
Yet I trusted Kit. Always had. Right from the start. Call it a sixth sense. I’d felt it on first meeting Davina and Cara as well.
My eyes scanned her high cheekbones and slim arms. Her jacket was fashionably cut, unlike the practical anorak I’d thrown on. Her hair was shiny and for the first time in forever I wished I had straight hair instead of curls.
‘Kit’s the perfect teacher,’ she said. ‘Super patient and if I fall he could easily lift me up with just one finger.’ She grinned. ‘Seriously. The man’s a mountain. He’s the tall one over there.’ She jerked her head toward the refreshment hut. ‘I’m grateful every day that he came into my life.’
‘I know Kit from Alderston. He works in my daughter’s school and—’
‘Oh right…’ Something in her expression changed. I couldn’t figure out what.
‘How long have you known him?’ I asked.
‘Oh… about two months. Honestly, he’s so easy to confide in,’ she blurted out and blushed as if she’d said something she shouldn’t.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Kit approaching. He came up to us carrying steaming drinks and two burgers.
‘Fern.’ He stopped dead. ‘Hi.’
He looked between me and Paula. Why didn’t he introduce her?
‘Paula used to write the column I took over,’ I said and smiled. ‘How did you two meet?’
The Christmas Calendar Girls Page 11