With Love at Christmas

by Carole Matthews

  I look at myself in the mirror. I’ve not scrubbed up too badly, even though I say it myself. The dress is scarlet, a wrapover number that clings in all the right places. On go the high heels – which I know are going to cripple me within an hour. I’m a flatties sort of woman these days, and don’t do tottering well. But needs must. I slip on my diamond bracelet, too. That doesn’t get much of an airing either, but it’s nice to have something special to wear. I’ve even painted my nails – toes and fingers – scarlet to match. Then my confidence crumbles as I wonder how I compare with unknown female Lisa. Is she younger than me? Glamorous in the real sense of the word? Stylish? Beautiful? I only wish that I knew.

  Rick’s going to drop me off at the hotel, and then I’ll get a taxi home in case it’s a late finish. As far as I remember, the party goes on until one o’clock – though I’m not sure that I’ll be one of the stalwarts who stays so long.

  As I’m finishing off with a squirt of Chanel No. 5, Chloe comes into the bedroom and leans against the wall. ‘Mum, I think Jaden’s got a temperature. Can you come and look at him?’

  I follow her through to my grandson’s bedroom. In his bed, Jaden’s cheeks are flushed and I feel his forehead. ‘He is hot,’ I say. ‘Have you taken his temperature?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The thermometer’s in the bathroom cabinet.’

  Chloe lingers for a second or two. Then, when it becomesclear that she’s the one who should go and get it, she pads away. A moment later, she’s back and I slip the thermometer under Jaden’s tongue. ‘It’s a little high, but not too bad. Give him a bit of Calpol. You could get a cool flannel and just wipe him down.’

  ‘Can’t you do it?’ Chloe says. ‘You’re better at these things.’

  ‘That’s because I’ve had a lot of practice,’ I remind her. ‘When you’ve had a lot of practice, you’ll be good at it too.’

  ‘Mum . . . ’

  ‘I’m on my way out to the office party, Chloe. You’ll be fine. If there are any problems, you’ve got my phone number.’

  ‘I was thinking of popping out tonight.’ My daughter does big eyes.

  ‘Then you’ll have to think again,’ I tell her.

  ‘Tom has asked me to go for a drink with him and his mates.’

  ‘Much as it’s nice to hear that you and Tom aren’t bickering as you normally do, it won’t hurt you to stay in for one night. It wouldn’t hurt Tom, either.’

  The dark looks say that she’s not too keen on my assessment of her social plans. So be it.

  ‘It’s Christmas.’

  ‘And Jaden’s your son. You need to be here for him.’ I hand her the thermometer. ‘Besides, it’s my big night out tonight. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to miss that.’

  My dear child very much looks as if she would actually like me to miss my party for her. Well, it’s not going to happen. Not this time. For once, I’m putting myself first. Chloe will just have to learn to take her responsibilities more seriously.

  ‘Have a nice time,’ she says reluctantly. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’

  ‘I’m sure you will.’ I give her a twirl. ‘Do I look OK?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Feigning such extreme disinterest is surely an art form. I probably shouldn’t have expected more. One last look in the mirror and I think I’ll do. Then doubts swamp me again. Am I still an attractive woman? Or do I now look every one of my forty-five years? What does Rick think when he sees me? Is the spark for him still there, or has it died? Is that why he is exchanging texts with another woman? I don’t want to think about that. Tonight, I just want to leave everyone behind and go out and have fun.

  Downstairs, and Mum and Dad are watching television. No change there. Despite their differences, they seem to be rubbing along quite nicely, and Dad is certainly helping me to keep an eye on Mum.

  ‘I’ll be back later,’ I say. ‘Be good.’ Rick has taken to marking the bottles of alcohol after we caught Mum necking the Croft Original straight from the bottle last week.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Mum asks, tearing herself away from The One Show.

  ‘To my office Christmas party.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to dress up?’

  ‘I am dressed up, Mum.’ This is as dressed up as I get.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You look very nice, dear,’ Dad offers.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Very Christmassy.’

  Good. Because that’s what I was aiming for.

  In the kitchen, Rick’s reading the paper. He doesn’t actually like reading the paper, it gets his blood pressure soaring sky high. I think he’s just trying to grab a moment of peace. If he didn’t have to run me into the town centre, he’d probably already be in his shed.

  ‘Da-da!’ I say.

  ‘You look lovely,’ Rick tells me. ‘Very lovely.’

  The expression on his face says that he still likes what he sees.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You’ll be the belle of the ball,’ he assures me. ‘I almost wish I was coming with you.’

  ‘You did have your chance,’ I remind him. When I booked this I asked Rick if he wanted to be included, and he chose not to. Most of the staff aren’t married and don’t take partners, so if you do take your other half along they are a bit of a spare part.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Besides, I’m glad you’re staying here to keep an eye on this lot. Jaden’s running a temperature and I’ve put Chloe in charge.’

  ‘God help us.’

  ‘She needs to do it, Rick. It’s time she realised that her son needs her and she can’t just palm him off on us all the time.’

  ‘We’ve been too soft with her.’

  ‘I know. I don’t want to stop helping her completely, but I am trying to wean her off being totally dependent on us.’

  ‘Not before time.’

  I check my watch. ‘I’d better get going or the turkey will be on the table without me.’ As I’ve booked it all, I feel responsible for making sure it all runs smoothly.

  Rick grabs his keys and drives me into the High Street. The Cock Hotel is situated right in the centre, and it only takes a few minutes by car from our house. When Rick pulls up I can see Robin Westcroft just ahead of us walking towards the venue. He looks very handsome and smart in his dark cashmere coat and silk scarf, but his head is down and his shoulders are hunched against the cold. His wife, it seems, is not accompanying him after all. As he turns into the hotel, he cuts a lonely figure.

  ‘Thanks for the lift.’ I kiss Rick. ‘See you later.’

  ‘No coming home in the early hours drunk and unnecessary and trying to ravish my body like you did last year.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Only if you insist.’

  I kiss him again. ‘You’ll have to see what Santa brings.’

  My husband smiles at me. ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  But, in the meantime, I want to forget all our troubles and have some fun. I have several glasses of wine to consume and a four-course Christmas dinner to eat. Bring it on!

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It was about eight o’clock when Merak returned with the van. Rick had waited in the kitchen for him. When his apprentice walked in he was dressed all in black and was wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, even though it was dark.

  ‘That’s a new look for you,’ Rick noted. ‘Very smart.’ If slightly menacing.

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied proudly. Merak took off the sunglasses, carefully folded them and put them in his top pocket.

  ‘Where have you been all poshed up like that?’

  ‘I have been busy,’ Merak said.

  ‘Had anything to eat, lad?’

  ‘No. I have not.’

  ‘Could rustle you up a bacon sarnie, if that would tickle your fancy?’

  Merak nodded solemnly. ‘I think my fancy would be tickled.’

  ‘Deal done then.’ Rick clapped his hands together and se
t about cooking. ‘Help yourself to a beer.’

  ‘Thank you. May I pour one for you too?’

  ‘That would be champion.’

  ‘Champion,’ Merak echoed.

  Rick slid the bacon under the grill and Merak cracked open two bottles of Stella. He clinked his bottle against Merak’s. ‘It’s not much of a Christmas party for the staff of Walk All Over Me, but hopefully next year we might do better. Thanks for all your help, Merak. I don’t know how I’d manage without you now. I’d hoped to give you a bit of a bonus. Show my appreciation, but, well . . . ’ Rick’s sentence tailed off.

  ‘Money is tight.’

  Rick shrugged. ‘Got it in one.’

  Merak frowned. ‘I have something to tell you.’

  Rick turned back to the bacon and flipped it over. ‘This will be ready in five.’

  ‘Something important,’ Merak insisted.

  ‘Do I need to sit down?’

  ‘Perhaps it would be a good thing.’

  Rick wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. Maybe all this talk about money being tight had made Merak look for a new job. Could be that he was going to give him his notice, and next year Rick would be back to doing all the humping and dumping on his own. He’d hate it if that happened. He’d got used to having Merak around, and he’d struggle to find anyone half as good to replace him. Still, if the lad wanted to move on, he wouldn’t be the one to stop him. Whatever he wanted to tell him, he’d take it on the chin. So he made a bacon butty for himself too, even though he wasn’t all that hungry. Comfort food.

  ‘We’ll wander down to my shed with this,’ Rick said. ‘My sanctuary. You’ll like it in there. Not many people get invited into the inner circle. We can have a good chat. Do you want your bacon on bread or toast?’

  ‘Bread, please.’

  Minutes later, they were heading down the garden, a pile of bacon sandwiches on a tray. Rick unlocked the shed. They settled themselves on the sunloungers.

  ‘Look,’ Rick said. He opened his man-fridge, his pride and joy. It was round, stainless steel with a glass top and had wheels on the bottom so that he could use it in the garden when they had a barbecue. There were more beers in the fridge. In fact, more than he remembered being in there. Perhaps Juliet had treated him to a few and had forgotten to mention it.

  ‘Right,’ Rick said as he bit appreciatively into his sarnie. ‘Spill the beans.’

  ‘I do not have beans,’ Merak said.

  ‘It means tell me the story.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ With a sigh, the lad reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a thick wedge of money. He held it out to Rick.

  Carefully wiping his greasy fingers on the bit of kitchen roll he’d wisely taken with him, Rick put down his bacon sarnie before he took the cash in his open hands.

  ‘That’s a lot of money.’ Rick could feel his eyes widening.

  ‘It is eight thousand, four hundred and ninety-two pounds.’ Merak reached into his pocket again. ‘And fifteen pence.’ He put the coins in Rick’s hands too.

  ‘Eight thousand, four hundred and ninety-two pounds,’ Rick repeated, open-mouthed.

  ‘And fifteen pence,’ Merak stressed.

  ‘What did you do, lad? Rob a bank?’ Rick laughed nervously. He hoped that this wasn’t the moment when he discovered that his apprentice wasn’t quite the straightforward and polite kid he’d grown so fond of.

  ‘I went round to customers who owed us money,’ he said flatly. ‘I collected this money. Tomorrow night I will visit some more.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Rick said. He put the money on the little coffee table in front of them both. Staring at the pile of cash, he rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘Who paid up?’

  Merak delved into another pocket. He produced a small notebook. Inside, neatly written, was a list of names. ‘Mr Taylor, one, Woodman Rise: two thousand, three hundred and fifty-one pounds.’

  ‘You went back there?’

  ‘I did. He was not happy to see me.’

  ‘I’ll bet!’ Rick was dumbfounded. ‘But he paid up?’

  ‘Yes. He did.’

  ‘And the dog?’

  Merak’s expression didn’t change. ‘The dog, he tasted my shoe.’

  Rick let out a giggle that, even to himself, sounded crazed.

  Merak cleared his throat and continued. ‘Mr Bateman-Smith, The Elms: three thousand, nine hundred and eighty-four pounds. Mr and Mrs Davis, seventy-three, The Spinney: nine hundred and eighteen pounds. Mr Ackersley, ten, Grandley Gardens: one thousand, two hundred and thirty-nine pounds and . . . ’

  ‘Fifteen pence,’ they finished together.

  Merak closed the notebook, but not before Rick had registered that there were still several names on his list. The rest of his customers who hadn’t paid up didn’t all owe such large sums of money, but it was cash he’d rather have in his own bank account, where it rightly belonged, than in theirs.

  ‘I’ve been trying for months to get this money out of them. What did you do? Threaten to take a sledgehammer to their cars?’

  Merak shifted uncomfortably on his sunlounger.

  ‘Tell me you didn’t!’

  ‘I told them that I was Russian mafia, and simply reminded them that swimming with fishes is very cold at this time of year. I told them that it was advisable for them to pay their debts to avoid this experience.’

  ‘Are you Russian mafia?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ Merak shrugged. ‘But you English people think that we all sound the same. Polish, Lithuanian, Albanian, Russian. It is the same to you.’

  ‘That’s probably true enough,’ Rick admitted. ‘But you can’t go round threatening our customers, Merak.’

  ‘I only threatened them little bit.’

  ‘If you do that, we’ll have none left.’

  ‘Might I say that we do not want to have customers who do not pay their bills.’

  Rick risked a smile. ‘That’s true enough.’

  ‘I watch you. Many times, you have asked them politely and still they do not pay. It is your money. I think they now understand that.’

  Rick laughed out loud. ‘Bloody hell, Merak, I can’t believe you’ve done this.’ He clinked his bottle against Merak’s again. ‘Eight bloody grand! That solves a lot of our problems.’

  ‘Then you are not angry with me?’

  ‘No,’ Rick laughed. ‘Not angry at all.’ In fact, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had enough cash now to see them through the Christmas lay-off and well into January. If Merak could get all of the outstanding money in, then he’d be for ever indebted to him. ‘I thought you’d got yourself another job,’ he confessed. ‘I thought that’s what you were going to tell me.’

  ‘No. Never,’ Merak said fiercely. ‘I would not do that.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Rick laughed again. ‘I want to give you a bonus. A little something to say thanks.’

  ‘It is not necessary.’

  ‘Here,’ Rick peeled off a roll of notes. ‘That’s about five per cent. You can have that on whatever else you manage to collect in.’

  ‘That is very generous, Rick. Thank you.’

  He settled back onto his sunlounger and swigged his beer. There would be turkey on the table after all this Christmas. He could afford to buy Juliet a nice present, something special. And maybe, and the thought pricked at his conscience, a little something for Lisa and Izzy, too. Perhaps he’d pop in to see them again in the next couple of days, if he could find a moment.

  Rick threw his head back and chuckled loudly. ‘Bloody Russian mafia!’

  Merak laughed too – a rare sound – and relaxed back on his lounger. ‘If you let me help, Rick, I will find new customers for us.’

  ‘We’ll do it together. Grow the business. I’m going to put you in charge of credit control from now on.’

  They laughed together.

  ‘Now, let’s kick back and chill for an hour. Make yourself at home.’ He got Merak anot
her beer from the fridge. ‘How do you like my shed, lad?’

  The kid looked around appreciatively. ‘I like it very much indeed,’ he said.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The room for our party is beautiful, decked out like a winter wonderland, and The Cock Hotel have made an excellent effort. There’s a huge tree in the corner hung with decorations themed in pink, lime and burgundy, which makes mine at home look very old-fashioned. Perhaps I’ll have a total revamp next year. The tables are set to match. And, as the party is so large, we’ve taken over the entire place. At least we don’t have to worry about upsetting any other diners if the antics of the youngsters get a bit out of hand. Office parties are a lot more raucous now than when I was at the library.

  Even the youngest of the boys are in dinner jackets, and they all look so smart. The girls are in their party best, all spangly and barely there. I’m so glad I splashed out and bought a new dress. No one wants to be the old frump on the dance floor.

  We all snap our crackers, put on our hats and swap jokes. Robin sits at the head of the table, and I’m next to him.

  ‘Excellent work, Juliet,’ he says. ‘This looks great.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I have to say that I’m pleased with it myself. It’s always nerve-wracking booking a party for other people. Now I can relax and enjoy it too.

  Robin raises his glass. ‘Merry Christmas, everyone!’

  The staff cheer, and then everyone throws the streamers that I’ve bought for the table and we’re instantly covered with multicoloured strings. Spirits are high, and it’s nice to see my colleagues outside of our usual surroundings and everyone letting their hair down.

  The dinner is superb. Succulent turkey and all the trimmings. Which, like a full English breakfast, somehow always tastes better when you don’t have to cook it yourself. Even the sprouts are cooked to perfection, which is always tricky with large-scale catering. It’s just a shame that nearly everyone has left them. We had little smoked-salmon canapés and cocktails to start with when we got here, too. Even though I’ve squeezed a hearty portion of Christmas pudding within the confines of my dress, after the main course, I’ve still managed to top it with two mince pies. Now that we are all far too full to move, the tables are being pushed back against the walls to clear a space for the dance floor.