Christmas Cakes and Mistletoe Nights

by Carole Matthews

  Anthony frowns at the mention of Danny’s name.

  ‘Ah.’ He busies himself stirring his coffee. ‘Things going well there?’

  I’m not certain I want to be getting onto this ground with my ex, but I say politely, ‘Yes. Fine.’

  ‘I’m not with Deborah any more,’ he volunteers.

  While we were still, supposedly, together, Anthony took up with a brunette bombshell from his handbell-ringing troupe, the Village Belles. She was as blowsy as I am mousy. No wonder he had his head turned. But then I could hardly complain about his infidelity as my heart had already been given to Danny. And my body. Just the once. I try to hide my smile as I remember that wanton night and what a revelation it was to me.

  I press my lips together. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’

  He shakes his head. ‘It was for the best. She was too flighty for me.’

  ‘Oh.’

  There’s a bitter little laugh before he says, ‘She left me for the solicitor who was finalising her divorce. I thought she had to have a lot of meetings with him, but the whole thing had been quite acrimonious and, well, I’m very trusting by nature.’

  I try not to laugh at that.

  ‘He has a yacht in Southsea marina,’ Anthony continues, ‘the solicitor. A small one. Still, that apparently top-trumps membership of Woburn Golf Club.’ He bristles at the thought and I can’t help but smile. Some things don’t change. He’s as pompous and priggish as ever he was.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘It’s only the Village Belles that are keeping me sane. My lovely ladies never let me down.’

  I don’t point out that, very briefly, Deborah the Deceitful was one of those ladies.

  ‘We’re entering our first competition this year,’ he adds. ‘National. Well, only in England. However, it would be a big one to land for our first foray into the competitive world of handbell championships. I have ambitions to be on the international circuit, but we’ll have to see how we go.’

  ‘I see. You’ve replaced Deborah?’

  ‘Of course. With an older lady. One not prone to hysteria.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘There’s no one else in my personal life yet.’ He fails to meet my eye when he says that. ‘I had a go at one of those dating sites, but no joy.’

  ‘That’s seems to be the best bet, these days. Keep going.’ I try to be encouraging. ‘There’ll be someone out there for you, I’m sure.’

  ‘I might advertise for a young lover like yours.’ He clearly can’t resist a jibe.

  ‘I can highly recommend it,’ I say, calmly. Surely I’m allowed a dig or two as well. ‘He’ll be along in just a minute, in fact. You can say hello.’

  Anthony bolts down his coffee. ‘Must be going. Lots to do.’

  ‘It’s been nice to see you, Anthony.’

  He stands up and fusses with the packages he has. Then he looks directly at me. ‘You and I rubbed along quite nicely,’ he says. ‘If you ever change your mind, I’d be prepared to take you back.’

  Once again, I try to smother my smile but there’s a little shard of sadness in my heart for him. I think of how I feel about Danny – the love, the passion, the friendship, the laughter, the respect – and know that if I die tomorrow then I’d die happy as I know what true love feels like.

  ‘Things would be different,’ Anthony says, bashful now. ‘You could take up golf. I’d be happy to introduce you as a member. If you had some lessons, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well.’ Anthony puffs up his chest. ‘It’s been good to see you, Fay.’

  ‘It was good to see you too. Merry Christmas, Anthony.’

  As he turns to leave, he adds, almost as an afterthought, ‘If you ever wanted to take up handbell ringing – and you did once express an interest – then you’d be more than welcome in the Village Belles. As a beginner. You’d fit right in.’

  ‘I’m sure I would.’ The old Fay, perhaps, I think. But not the new me.

  As he holds up a hand and walks away, I realise that Anthony really doesn’t know me any more and probably never did.

  Chapter Twenty

  When Danny comes in ten minutes later, he throws himself into the seat next to me and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then he says, ‘You look deep in thought.’

  ‘I just had a coffee with Anthony.’

  ‘Wow,’ Danny says. ‘The Anthony?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘How did that go?’

  ‘Weird,’ I admit. ‘Very weird. I find it hard to believe that I spent so many years with that man. It felt as if it was another lifetime, as if I didn’t really know who he was at all.’

  ‘Things change. People do.’

  ‘Anthony hadn’t changed at all. Or maybe he’d got even worse.’ I shake my head. ‘He said he’d take me back, if I ever changed my mind. We could play golf together and I could take up handbell ringing.’

  Danny laughs and says, ‘I can just see you playing at next year’s canal festival. Actually, no I can’t.’

  ‘Good!’

  ‘I’d better look after you then, if you have another offer.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t have too much to worry about on that front,’ I tease. ‘I actually felt really sorry for him. Pity, really. It didn’t work out with him and the lovely Deborah. Which is a shame. I’m sure he loved her. He’s on his own again now.’

  ‘He’ll be fine, Fay,’ Danny reassures me. ‘People like that always are. You have to stop worrying about everyone. Anthony had his chance with you and messed it up. You’re both different people now.’

  ‘I know. It’s hard to cut myself off completely when he was a part of my life for so long.’

  Danny smiles at me. ‘And that’s why you’re you.’

  But he’s right. I have more things to worry about than my ex being lonely. I put any thoughts of Anthony aside. ‘How did the job hunting go?’

  He shrugs. ‘Not that great. Most of the seasonal posts have been taken. I’ve got a couple of application forms, though.’ He brandishes them at me. ‘One of them is for a trendy shop selling jeans. I wouldn’t mind that.’

  ‘You do wear denim very well,’ I tell him.

  ‘I’d probably be more at home in a jeans shop than at Marks and Spencers. They’d have to keep me in the back-room there.’

  ‘You’ll find something,’ I reassure him. ‘You’re quite the most resourceful person I’ve ever met.’ I fish for my purse. ‘Let me get you a coffee.’

  Danny jumps up. ‘I’ll go. Want another?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘I’ll see if we can run to a couple of treats too.’

  I smile at him. ‘Let’s go mad.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘It is nearly Christmas, after all.’

  So we enjoy our coffee together and Danny gets us two Christmas pastries studded with pistachios and cranberries and drizzled with white chocolate. I snap a quick photo to show Lija as a version of these would be fab for our café too. Then I stop short as I realise I called it ‘our’ café. It’s not mine any more, it’s hers.

  ‘We should go.’ Danny picks at the last few crumbs of his cake. ‘Lija will think we’ve got lost.’

  ‘It’s going to be busy today.’

  ‘If she doesn’t need me, then I’ll walk up to the boatyard at Great Linford and see if they need a spare pair of hands. Lots of people put their boats in for repairs and repainting over the winter months and I’m a dab hand with both a spanner and a paintbrush, so you never know.’

  We finish up and head out of the shopping centre, which is even busier than when we arrived. If people are tight for money, then there’s no sign of it here.

  The rain, still as heavy, is outdoing our umbrella and it makes us hurry. When we reach The Dreamcatcher, Danny kisses me and says, ‘I’ll carry on to the boatyard.’

  ‘You’ll be like a drowned rat when you get there. Why not dry off now and go tomorrow instead?’

  �
�I want to strike while the iron’s hot,’ he says. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘OK.’ I watch as Danny, shoulders hunched, strides away down the towpath. I jump onto The Dreamcatcher and Diggery goes into a frenzy, having cruelly been left alone for almost two hours. I bend down and cuddle him until he’s calmed down. Then I dry my hair and, this time, do manage to tame it into respectability before I go to work.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Diggery comes to work with me too. I couldn’t bear to leave him by himself all afternoon. Those big brown eyes were looking at me in a very accusatory manner. Though he’s not allowed in the kitchen while we’re working, he can lie in the shelter of the veranda and watch the rain. We walk up the garden together and I’m glad that I’ve kept my boots on. The grass is absolutely sodden and big puddles are forming. Some of the path has disappeared beneath them. I can’t remember it being this bad in a long time. ‘This isn’t much fun is it, lad?’

  Digs barks his agreement.

  I check the drive and that’s starting to get pretty waterlogged too. I don’t want our customers to get their feet wet, but I can’t think what else I can do for them. They’ll have to pick their way through the puddles. When I get in I’ll round up some umbrellas and I can rush out to greet people and keep them covered.

  When I’ve settled Diggery by the back door, I go into the kitchen and slip off my boots. Rainbow and Lija are working away.

  ‘OMG.’ Rainbow shakes her curls indignantly. ‘Wet or what? It’s TOTALLY raining like TARANTULAS.’

  ‘Tarantulas?’

  ‘Torrential,’ Lija translates.

  ‘Oh. I don’t know about making sandwiches,’ I say, ‘I think we need to build an ark.’

  ‘That’s when the unicorns drowned when Neil or WHATEVER wouldn’t let them on the ship thingy,’ Rainbow informs me. ‘My nan told me.’

  Lija and I exchange a glance. No idea.

  ‘Have you checked upstairs for leaks?’ I ask her. ‘The roof has needed attention for years.’

  ‘No,’ she says.

  ‘I’ll get Danny to look up in the loft when he’s back. You might need a bucket or two up there to catch the drips.’

  I hunt out the umbrellas – there are still a few in the understairs cupboard that belonged to Miranda, and an old one of mine too. After that I check the dining room. Everything’s nice and cosy in there. The Christmas tree lights are on and shining brightly. Rainbow has finished setting the tables and there’s a silver Christmas cracker by each plate. The tables have a floral arrangement in the centre studded with silver and white pine cones. Pausing for just a few moments, I stand still and take a few deep breaths. Life rushes by at such a pace that it’s sometimes difficult to stop and be in the moment. This looks lovely and Lija should be really proud of herself.

  ‘A car’s pulled up outside,’ Lija shouts.

  The first of our customers. Four elderly ladies. That’s my brief meditation over with. I dash back to the kitchen and grab the biggest brolly. ‘I’ll go and escort them in.’

  Outside, the rain is coming down like stair rods. Diggery is lying with his head resting on his paws, staring dolefully at the weather. He jumps up when he sees me. ‘Stay here, boy. I won’t be a minute.’ But he ignores me completely and trots along at my heels.

  The customers are tentatively opening their car door when they arrive and I hold the brolly up for them. It seems as though they’ve come already armed. ‘I can hold this for you while you put your own umbrellas up.’

  ‘I’ve had my hair done this morning, especially,’ one lady says. ‘I don’t want to spoil it.’

  I think how much nicer it would be if we had a crisp frost, a few wisps of gently falling snow. Torrential rain – or tarantula rain as I should now call it – never makes it feel festive. Still, I manage to get all of the ladies inside without too much damage to their hairstyles. After that, there’s a steady flow of customers and the dining room is mad busy all afternoon. Rainbow holds the fort on service, while I dash in and out to help people out of their cars. The thing that worries me most is that there’s no let-up at all. I’ve never seen the level of the canal this high and there are now rivulets of water running down the lane towards the house. Worrying. I haven’t had time to check on Stan yet and I missed him at lunchtime as Rainbow took his soup round to him. So when I’ve escorted one group of customers inside, I nip back to his cottage while I’m togged up for the rain.

  ‘All OK in here?’ I ask.

  ‘Snug as a bug in a rug,’ Stan says, beaming. He’s sitting in front of the log burner, which is roaring away, blanket over his knees. He’s watching a black and white film on his television.

  ‘Good. Don’t you be venturing out in this weather. It’s dreadful. I don’t want you taking a tumble or getting wet through. The lane’s like a stream.’

  ‘I’m happy here. When this is finished,’ he gestures at the film, ‘I’ve got a good book and the radio. Sounds as if this part of the country is bearing the brunt of the weather. There are flood warnings all over the place.’

  ‘Batten down the hatches, I think they’re right for once. This shows no sign of letting up. I’ll be back later with your supper.’

  ‘Smashing.’

  ‘But call me if you need anything.’ I put his phone next to him. ‘Anything at all.’

  ‘Right-ho.’

  I’m reluctant to leave him, though I have to say that he looks quite cosy. I glance down the garden as I make my way back and see the Maid of Merryweather looking very sorry for herself. We should get a tarpaulin or something to cover her. Though goodness only knows how much that would cost. I’ll talk to Danny and see if he has any bright ideas. That roof could disintegrate entirely if this carries on.

  The rest of the day speeds by, even though a couple of tables call to cancel due to the worsening weather which, at least, gives us a five-minute breather. When they’re finished with their teas, I escort the customers back to their cars as they’ve finished, getting more concerned by the rising water all the time. As we’re clearing up, Danny returns. He’s soaked through to the skin. He stands and drips on the doormat.

  ‘It’s terrible out there,’ he says. ‘This rain is just getting heavier and heavier. Even the canal is overflowing in places. I’ve never seen that before. The sluice gates must be struggling to handle the volume of water.’

  ‘I’ve been taking customers out to their cars all afternoon. The lane is really flooded.’

  ‘Have you looked at the weather forecast?’

  ‘We haven’t had a chance,’ I admit. ‘But Stan said there were severe flood warnings for this area.’

  ‘Great.’

  Lija pulls her iPad towards her and taps away. ‘Weather warning. Blah, blah, blah.’ She turns the screen towards us. ‘Bad shit all over.’

  When I look at it over her shoulder, I can see that her assessment is fairly accurate.

  ‘I wanted you to check in the loft, Danny,’ I say. ‘I’m worried there might be a couple of leaks.’

  ‘I’ll do that now.’ He shrugs off his wet coat and kicks off his muddy boots, then heads upstairs.

  ‘I’m sure we’ve got some wellies somewhere. I’ll see if I can dig them out. We might be needing them at this rate.’

  ‘I’ve got pink polka dot WELLIES,’ Rainbow says. ‘For festivals and WHATEVER. At home. In the cupboard. They’re SO cute, I don’t like getting them wet. In fact, I haven’t ever got them wet. NEVER. LOL!’

  With a bit of hunting, I find three pairs of wellies and dish them out. ‘I’ll go out and check on the lane,’ I say.

  ‘I will come with you.’ Lija follows in my wake.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on!’ Rainbow calls after us.

  Lija and I walk out of the garden, each step creating its own puddle. When we get to the drive, it’s a disturbing sight that greets us. Rivers of water cascade down either side of the lane, they’re carving their way down the drive and towards the house.

  Li
ja’s face is grim. ‘Not good.’

  ‘No.’ I can only agree.

  Even as we stand and watch, it’s getting worse. Soon we’re up to our ankles in water in some places. It’s creeping towards the garage and, even worse, the house.

  ‘Has flooded like this before?’

  ‘No. Well, maybe once when I was a child. I seem to remember the bottom half of the garden being under water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the lane like this before though.’ They’ve built a small estate of executive houses just across the road, so whether that’s affected how the run-off water flows and it’s channelled it towards us, I don’t know. However, I do know that whatever’s caused this, it’s not good news for us.

  Lija looks at me worriedly. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Let’s go and have a talk to Danny.’

  He comes into the kitchen as we do. ‘Not good.’ He shakes his head. ‘There’s half a dozen leaks upstairs already.’

  ‘Shit,’ Lija mutters.

  ‘Have you got some buckets or big pans?’ he asks.

  ‘I will find them,’ Lija says.

  ‘There are buckets in the garage,’ I tell him. ‘Come outside. It will give you a chance to look at what’s happening out there too.’

  We all troop out again, even Rainbow who is TOTALLY not keen to get her hair wet. She hogs an umbrella to herself.

  Danny blows out a worried breath and scratches his chin. ‘OK. Let’s round up what buckets and stuff we’ve got. If the rain eases off anytime soon, then we’ll be all right. But if it keeps lashing it down, then we need to be prepared for the worst.’

  We all head into the garage and the water follows us. Fighting our way through the cobwebs, Danny and I rummage about on the shelves at the back until we find the buckets we so need. We pass them to Lija and Rainbow. There are a couple of big paint kettles too. I wish I’d had a good sort out of this mess years ago. It was something I meant to get round to, but never did. I love the comforting, woody, musty smell in here – it reminds me of times spent with my dad. All his tools are still here and, at this moment, I’m so grateful for that. Danny is still going through the shelves piled with screwdrivers, hammers and goodness knows what else to see what might come in useful.