by Emma Davies
Freya listened to the overly casual tone in Merry’s voice, one that Freya had heard her adopt on many occasions over the years. It hadn’t fooled her then, and it wasn’t fooling her now. ‘I see … you’re sure it’s not because Sam has rung you and you’re checking up on me?’
There was silence for a moment, before Merry heaved a sigh. ‘Do you know I thought it might work this time, you know, seeing as we’re not face to face, but I can never seem to get one past you can I?’
‘Nope. You never could lie at the best of times. You are actually in labour I suppose? You haven’t made that up as well?’
‘No I bloody well have not. I’m in agony here. Listen, Sam’s just worried about you Freya. He couldn’t get hold of you, said something about an argument and being out in the snow.’
‘We had a fight … well not really, but I’ve done it again Merry, jumping to conclusions, running off without giving him the chance to explain.’
There was an answering silence. That grew longer. ‘Merry?’ whispered Freya, ‘Are you still there?’
Merry drew in a sharp intake of breath that was readily audible this time. ‘Freya … I think my waters just broke … Oh God my waters just broke Freya, I’m going to be a mummy!’ Her voice rose with excitement mixed with pain. ‘I’ve got to go Freya, sorry … I’ll ring you okay?’
‘Yes, go, go!’ replied Freya urgently.
‘Listen, just one thing Freya Sherbourne, and you damn well listen this time,’ she panted. ‘My whole life is going to change today, nothing will ever be the same again, but it’s a good thing. It’s the right time for me and if you let it, it can be the right time for you too. Promise me you won’t fight what you’re scared of Freya, breathe through the pain and at the end of it, well you just might have yourself a miracle.’
‘Okay, she nodded. ‘I will, I promise.’
She could almost hear her friend nodding, words temporarily deserting her until she got her breath back. ‘Good, don’t let me down will you? Okay, I’m going now. Wish me luck …’
‘Merry Mistletoe!’ shouted Freya against the wind, but her friend had already gone. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and, wiping her eyes, set out from the shelter of the porch into the whirling storm. If she was lucky she would find someone who could take her home.
The church was in the very centre of the village, but even so by the time she had navigated the village green and emerged onto the high street she was exhausted. The little row of shops huddled together, their twinkly lights shining bravely out into the dimming light, but this was the only sign of the season. The place was deserted; even the butcher’s which would usually have a good-natured crowd spilling out onto the street as people queued to collect their turkeys, was eerily quiet. She thought of her own warm house, with its homely kitchen, and roaring fire, fragrant from the apple wood they burned, and her stomach turned over with a tiny shiver of fear. She was finding walking increasingly difficult, her arm still in its sling throwing her off balance, and her wellies, although waterproof, with next to no grip on the snow.
In desperation she walked toward the baker’s at the far end of the street. Millie’s husband was a farmer, and it was just possible he might be able to come and collect her. As she walked, she heard a light tinkling noise and then, ‘Freya?’
She turned to see the door of the off-licence closing. Stephen stood on the pavement, a carrier bag in his hand. He looked as surprised to see her as she him.
‘What are you doing here Freya? Jesus, you look cold.’
To her further surprise and humiliation she burst into noisy tears, all her pent up emotion finally catching up with her.
‘You bastard!’ she shouted, flailing her arm at him. ‘This is all your fault. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?’
Stephen put his bag down on the pavement with a clank, and tried as best he could to get both arms around her as she struggled against him. He said nothing, just tried to calm her, his natural height and build giving him the advantage, and after a while, although the whimpering accusations continued she eventually stopped wriggling and sagged against him.
‘Come on,’ he said gently. ‘Let’s get you home.’ He picked up his bag again, and still holding onto her as best he could, moved her slowly down the street to where his car was parked.
‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ she sniffed, eyeing his car warily. ‘Not if you’ve been drinking.’
He drew a slow breath in. ‘Jesus Freya,’ he said, studying her for a moment, her face a picture of abject misery. ‘You really do hate me don’t you? … No don’t answer that. I haven’t been drinking, not yet anyway. You’ll be perfectly safe. Come on, get in.’
He folded her inside, and then set about clearing the windscreen, which even in the short time he had been shopping had been completely covered in snow. After a few minutes he climbed in beside her, and started the Range Rover, turning the heaters up to full.
He was about to put the car into gear, when he suddenly stopped and looked at her.
‘Not that it will make any difference to you, but for what it’s worth I wanted to say that you’re quite right. I am a bastard and it is all my fault.’
Freya turned to look at him, sniffing gently, her eyes still full of tears. ‘Stop playing games Stephen, enough is enough.’
‘You know, I don’t blame you for not believing me, but actually this time, I mean it Freya, I’m telling the truth. I should never have done what I did. You were young and I took advantage of that. I knew exactly what I was doing.’
‘So why did you then?’
Stephen toyed with the air freshener on the dashboard. ‘Because I’ve always been jealous of Sam, right from when we were children; of the way he made friends when we were young, of the way he made people laugh. Stupid and irrational I know but there you are. I can’t think of one single reason why I should have felt like that, but I did, and anything he had, I set out to take from him … including you.’
Freya’s lip trembled. ‘And I let you take me,’ she said sadly. ‘I’m just as much to blame.’
Stephen reached for her hand, even now feeling her flinch as he took it. ‘No, it wasn’t your fault Freya. I pursued you like a hunter stalks a lion. I showered you with compliments and presents, planted dreams of what our life could be like if we were together, of the riches we would have, the places we would travel to.’
‘Empty promises …’
‘Yes, but you weren’t to know that. You were eighteen, not old enough to know what you wanted.’
A tear trickled down Freya’s cheek. ‘But I did know what I wanted … and I let him go.’
The silence stretched out between them for a few minutes, both lost in a time over 15 years ago. ‘He wanted to go after you that day, after the wedding, did you know that? But I stopped him. Even then after all that had happened, he would still have gone after you, but I punched him and knocked him to the ground.’
Freya looked up in shock. ‘I never knew that,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘But you were angry Stephen, I’d stood you up in front of all those people. I knew weeks before that I didn’t want to marry you but I let it go too far. I was scared; your dad had done so much, all those beautiful flowers, the marquee, I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. I just thought I would go through with it and in the end it would all be okay. But on the day … I just couldn’t … I should never have done that either.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘We both made mistakes, but I don’t blame you for what you did. Marrying me would have been a disaster. I’ve never said this to you before, but I am truly sorry for what happened.’
Freya looked down at her hands.
‘Why are you telling me this now Stephen?’
‘I don’t know … because it’s Christmas … because I’ve fucked up my life and it’s time to do something about it … because my brother has loved you since primary school and you should be together …’ he shrugged. ‘I could go on.’
‘Wha
t will you do?’
Stephen gave a rueful smile. ‘Go home and get bladdered one last time and then try to sort my life out. Try to salvage what I can of my home and my business, maybe marry someone like you, try being a grown up for a change.’ He pushed the gear stick forward. ‘But first I’m going to get you home.’
Appleyard was only a three-mile drive from the village but the snow was coming down so fast now that Freya wondered if they would make it at all. The wind had blown huge drifts against the hedges and in places there was barely room to pass. Even with the car’s four-wheel drive they struggled up the lanes, visibility almost zero, but Stephen drove slowly on, his teeth clenched in his jaw. Freya sat forward in her seat and urged them onwards.
Eventually, the gates to the house came into view and Stephen gently brought the car to a standstill.
‘Are you sure you’ll be alright from here?’ he asked anxiously.
Freya touched her hand gently to his. ‘I will, I’m sure of it.’ She leant over to kiss his cheek. ‘And thank you.’
Stephen smiled at her touch, for once in his life having done the right thing.
She had only made it halfway up the drive when the back door opened and a familiar figure half-ran half-stumbled towards her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest now as she took the last few steps, until finally she felt Sam’s arms go around her and there, swaying gently in his warmth with the snow whirling around them, cold and exhausted, Freya finally came home.
‘I thought I’d lost you again,’ murmured Sam as they clung to each other in the quiet solitude of the kitchen. They held each other close, the years catching up with them until a peaceful silence settled on the room, and this was how Amos found them, in a silent embrace, standing oblivious under the mistletoe that they had hung from the rafters only hours earlier. He closed the back door firmly and turned the key in the lock before coming to rest a hand on Sam’s shoulder and kiss Freya’s cheek.
‘Merry Mistletoe,’ he whispered.
It was fully dark by the time she awoke, stretching luxuriously under the weight of the blankets. After gallons of tea, hot buttered toast and jam and a rather giggly one-armed bath she’d had no objection at all to being told what to do, and had fallen into a deep sleep.
It was quiet downstairs as she made her way along the landing, pausing for a moment as she spotted Sam sitting at the bottom of the stairs, an open book on his lap. He turned as he heard her footsteps.
‘I didn’t want to miss you,’ he said, holding out his hand and waiting for her to reach his level. ‘Come with me.’
She followed his lead along the hallway until he stopped at the door to the lounge. ‘Close your eyes,’ he instructed, a smile on his face.
She did as she was asked, stepping gingerly into the room, a childlike leap of excitement filling her. The door closed behind her and she strained her ears but there wasn’t a sound that she could hear.
‘Okay you can open them now.’
She peered between her fingers, the room still completely dark, and suddenly she was aware of a familiar fragrance. In the split second that she realised what it was, the room came to life with what looked like a million points of dancing light.
‘Oh,’ was all she could say, her mouth round as she inhaled a sharp breath of surprise.
In the room before her were a myriad Christmases past; holly and mistletoe heaped along the mantelpiece, woven with tartan ribbons and gilded pine cones, bright red woollen stockings at either end – stockings she herself had knitted. Strings of fairy lights hung across the alcoves on each side of the room and the edges of the bookshelves were covered in twinkly gold stars. Her patchwork Christmas quilt was thrown over the cream sofa, and the jolly felt reindeer and elves she loved so much stood on the coffee table to one side.
Her eyes swept the room each time seeing something new but each time coming to rest on the huge tree that stood in one corner, a beautiful spruce of the brightest green and now bearing only the simplest of decoration. As Freya moved closer, something caught in her throat as she realised what was hanging there; each and every one of the beautiful baubles she and her dad had collected over the years, each with its own story to tell and each still as perfect as the day they had bought it. She looked at them all in turn, every one bringing a smile of memory until she saw right near the top, the most recent addition: a shimmering rose globe, caught in the light to reveal its perfect feather frozen in time within. It was utterly, utterly beautiful and left her devoid of words.
She felt an arm go around her, warm and comforting and familiar.
‘I thought you might like it,’ murmured Sam in her ear. ‘It seemed such a shame to leave them in their boxes; all those memories locked away. They need to dance again don’t you think?’
A soft smile lit up Freya’s face. ‘I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you do all this?’
‘This afternoon while Amos was out looking for you. I wanted to stay here in case you came back, but I had to have something to keep me occupied, I was going out of my mind with worry.’
‘I’m so sorry I ran away. I should have let you explain,’ said Freya biting her lip.
Sam placed a finger gently across her lips. ‘I seem to remember a time when I should have listened to you, but I let a lot of years go by letting my stupid pride have its way. We should look to the future now, not the past.’
Freya kissed his fingers, entwining them with her own. ‘It was Stephen who brought me home you know. He actually apologised for what happened between us, said it was all his fault. I’ve carried the guilt of that around with me for so long Sam.’
‘I know.’
‘I think he’s going to be okay though, Stephen I mean. He might even be growing up finally.’
Sam smiled, his eyes twinkling in the light. ‘Well it is Christmas Freya, stranger things have happened.’
She looked at the mistletoe on the mantelpiece, deep in thought. ‘Where is Amos by the way?’ she asked.
‘Gone to bed, he said he’d see you in the morning.’ He touched Freya’s face once more. ‘You know he’ll be gone soon don’t you?’
Freya stared wistfully at the bauble on top of the tree, thinking of the man who had come into her life so suddenly and would no doubt leave it just as suddenly. He would remain in her memory for a very long time. ‘Yes, I know. He’ll go whichever way the wind blows him.’
She watched the light for a moment sparkling on the rose coloured glass, her eye now drawn to something she hadn’t seen before: a bright red velvet box, tied with golden thread.
Sam followed the direction of her eyes. ‘It was supposed to be your Christmas present, but you could have it now if you’d like.’
Freya grinned, trying hard not to jiggle with excitement. Sam lifted the box from the tree, motioning for Freya to come and sit down beside him.
He waited until she had wriggled herself comfortable, sliding onto his knees beside her. It had been a gamble this. But one he should have taken years ago. Instead, he had convinced himself that there could never be anything between them, and every year it got easier to believe that this was true – and harder to find a way to live with it. He wasn’t entirely sure why things were different now, but he knew that this was his chance to finally make things right between them. He looked up into her expectant face, a face he had loved for most of his life and bit his lip, drawing in a steadying breath as he thought of all the things he needed to say.
‘Before I give this to you, will you let me tell you what I meant to say this morning? In fact I should have said this a long time ago …’ he trailed off as the smile fell from her face. She was serious now, waiting for his words.
‘I don’t blame you for what happened with Stephen, I never did Freya. I pushed you away as much as he pulled you to him. I’d lived so many years losing things to him, that I viewed it as inevitable in the end. He’d taken so many things from me over the years that when I saw him begin to take an interest
in you I thought I never stood a chance. I should have fought for you. What’s worse was that I never gave you the opportunity to tell me differently and I’ve had to bear the consequence of my stupidity ever since.’
‘We’re both to blame Sam. I was flattered by Stephen’s attention, and I let myself be seduced by his stupid promises. I knew deep down that he never loved me, but I so desperately wanted to believe everything he told me. I wanted to stay here, among the orchards, to follow in my father’s footsteps, raise my own family here. I thought that’s what he wanted too, but I knew really it was never the case. Time has shown me that.’
‘But is that what you still want Freya, a life here?’
Her lip trembled. ‘More than anything. I thought I could start a new life, buy Merry’s shop and move away, be something different, but I can’t. This is where I belong. I have to try and find a way to make it work.’
He pressed the box into her hands. ‘Open it Freya,’ he said.
She pulled at the thread holding the tiny parcel closed and let it fall away until she was left, with shaking hands, holding the lid. She closed her eyes and opened it.
Inside was a key.
She looked up puzzled for a moment, until it suddenly struck her what it was.
‘I’m giving you back Appleyard Freya, so that you never have to worry about leaving again. The Sherbourne orchard has been here far too long to let it go, I want us to breathe new life into it … together.’
‘But –’
‘I’m asking you to marry me Freya. To let me live here with you, and work alongside you, as equal partners, ’til death do us part and all that. We can make Appleyard whatever we want her to be, what she deserves to be.’
The clock on the mantel chimed midnight as Freya reached down to pull Sam to her, her lips only inches from his. She smiled softly. ‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ she breathed, ‘I wonder what we should do now?’