Christmas Cakes and Mistletoe Nights

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Danny …’

  ‘Ah!’ He holds a finger to my lips to shush me. ‘No talking.’

  He moves, his skin against my skin, slowly, slowly, kissing me down from my face, my neck, my breasts, over my stomach and down, down. When a pleasurable moan escapes my lips, he puts a pillow over my face and we giggle some more.

  Then he slides inside and moves torturously slowly, so as not to rock the boat. When I come, I swear that I try to be as quiet as a church mouse.

  But Edie bangs on the wall and shouts. ‘I can hear you! I can hear everything!’

  Chapter Forty

  In the morning, as I lie in Danny’s arms, he says, ‘I’m thinking of going into London at the weekend, if the boatyard can spare me. I’m going to hook up with some old contacts and see what’s available, put my face around.’

  I hold him tighter. ‘I don’t want you to.’

  ‘I’m not that keen either,’ he admits. ‘But, if I can get a job, it would only be short term. I promise. I want to go in, hit it, stash some cash behind us and dive out again before it destroys my soul.’

  ‘Getting The Dreamcatcher was your new start away from that life,’ I remind him. ‘I know how much you hated it.’

  ‘I loathed every second,’ he agrees. ‘Lija’s going to need our help, though, and our credit card bills are climbing steadily.’

  I sigh and burrow down. ‘Why is life always so complicated?’

  ‘At the moment, we’re always fighting fires. If I can bag a short-term contract, it will help us to get ahead of the game.’

  ‘Swear to me that you won’t get sucked into that life again.’ It worries me that Danny might discover that life is too quiet and settled for him here. I know that he used to be quite the party animal and why not? He’s young and there’s still a laddish streak inside him that he’s buried since he’s been on the canal. Maybe it needs to resurface every now and again. I deflect my concerns by adding, ‘I’d rather be poor than have you ground down by your job.’

  For the first time in our relationship, I’m anxious.

  ‘I know.’ He eases away from me. ‘I’ll just put my toe in the water. I’d do it for six months max. It would be worth it for the money. I’ll call Henry later.’

  That’s one of Danny’s old colleagues. I met him briefly at the canal festival in the summer along with his partner Laura and another friend, Sienna. I hated them all, instantly. They were young, beautiful, moneyed, city-slick and supremely confident. All that I am not. My stomach tightens at the memory.

  Sienna’s name tells you all that you need to know about her. She’s slender, pretty and successful – legs that go up to her armpits, and teeth from a toothpaste advert. Her long, glossy blonde hair is a marketing man’s dream and she has a penchant for minimal clothing. She and Danny have ‘history’ and when I first clapped eyes on her, it was the first time in my life that I experienced raw, green-eyed jealousy. He said that they never had a relationship as such but used to sleep together if they stayed over in the same hotel whenever they were working away. I suspect that Sienna may well have wanted more. Even now the thought of it makes me feel slightly sick. If I close my eyes, I can picture them together and that’s not an image I want. I’ve never had casual sex in my rather dull life and it terrifies me that, if Danny gets back in with that crowd, he might want that buzz again.

  ‘However, now we have our current jobs to go to,’ he says. ‘Can’t stay here snuggling up all day with you.’

  I can’t even promise him a day in bed at the weekend as we’re both working seven days a week in the final push to Christmas. ‘It would be nice though.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He flicks a thumb towards Edie’s cabin. ‘But our new lodger might complain if we stay in bed all day.’

  I sigh. I expect our new lodger will complain about many, many things during her short stay here. Perhaps one night in her tiny, single bunk will have her frantically phoning round hotels this morning.

  Danny and I get dressed. In the galley we stand leaning against the counter while we eat a couple of slices of toast and throw down some tea, whispering to each other so as not to disturb our guest. Poor Diggery has no idea why he’s being shushed so much.

  On the jetty, Danny takes me in his arms and kisses me. It seems strange that there’s a yawning gap now where my dad’s narrowboat used to be moored. ‘Have you made any progress on the Maid of Merryweather?’

  ‘Nah,’ Danny says. ‘Too busy. Not enough cash.’

  ‘Same old story.’

  He shrugs. ‘We’ll do it one day. For now, she’s sheltered and dry.’

  ‘For which I’m very grateful.’

  ‘How grateful?’ he teases, stealing another kiss.

  It’s a bitterly cold morning, the wind cutting through us like a knife. The sky is white, ominously heavy with the threat of snow that’s been forecast for days now. The trees along the canal are mere shadows in the grey light of dawn. I shiver and Danny pulls me closer. The only plus side with the weather is that at least it’s not raining.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’ Danny kisses my nose and, with one last squeeze, breaks away, ready to head off along the canal.

  ‘Have a good day.’

  He clicks for Diggery and sets off at a stride, hands stuffed in his pockets against the cold. I watch him go and think that I could not love this man more. When he’s out of sight, I turn and head towards the house.

  Lija is at the kitchen table nursing a black coffee.

  ‘How are you feeling today?’ I hang my coat and try to shake the cold from my bones.

  ‘Like shit,’ she says.

  ‘Rainbow and I can cope,’ I say. ‘Go back to bed for a couple of hours.’

  She looks like she might be about to crack but, instead, she shakes her head. ‘We are too busy.’

  ‘Sit here and supervise, then. I don’t want you rushing about today.’ My fears about the baby remain unspoken. ‘We’ll find you some sitting-down jobs to do. You could decorate the macarons and stuff.’

  ‘I cannot sit down for next six months,’ Lija points out.

  ‘I know. But you can sit down for the new few days. Until everything’s settled again. That’s what the doctor ordered. I’m only following instructions.’

  She gives me a slow and resigned smile. ‘Better get baking with the mince pies then, bossy woman.’

  I tie on my apron. After the Christmas rush dies down, I realise that I might need to find another job. I’m not sure that Lija will be able to pay me and we wouldn’t want to have to let Rainbow go as she’s pure gold. Yet the truth of the matter is that I’m never happier than when I’m here in my old kitchen baking. It feels as if it’s where I’m meant to be. Perhaps if we’re staying around for a while, I can help Lija to develop the business further. Then I remember the baby on the way and that Lija is going to have her hands more than full. Any business plans may well have to go on hold.

  One moment I feel that we can all handle this new edition with ease – after all, women have babies every second of the day, the world over, and have always managed – the next moment I feel struck with terror at the enormity of it all and I can only imagine how much turmoil Lija’s emotions must be in.

  ‘You have gone quiet.’ Lija shoots me a suspicious look.

  ‘Just thinking,’ I say hastily. I need to be her rock through all this and not have a wobble myself. ‘Mince pies first?’

  She nods.

  As the first batch are going in, Rainbow arrives.

  ‘Oh, man,’ she says. ‘It’s totally FREEZEBALLS out there!’ The beanie hat comes off and unleashes the exuberance of her curls. ‘I seriously can’t wait for global warming then we won’t have cold mornings or have to go abroad on holiday and EVERYTHING. My nana said that 1976 was the last decent summer we had and that’s, like, HUNDREDS of years ago. I wasn’t even born, so I hardly remember it AT ALL. Where do you want me to start?’

  ‘Morning, Rainbow.’ I like a person who’s breathless with e
xcitement before they even begin their day. ‘Do you fancy making the sandwiches?’

  ‘My nana told me that some duchess or duke or SOMETHING invented sandwiches in the olden days. Probably 1976 or WHATEVER. If I was a duchess or duke or royalty, there’s NO WAY I’d ever eat SANDWICHES. I’d go to Nando’s EVERY DAY.’ Without pausing for breath, she adds, ‘Usual stuff?’

  I nod and she cracks on with the task in hand. For no one’s benefit but her own, she does it with a commentary about last night’s soaps and reality shows while singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio. Lija rolls her eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile on her face.

  Stan nips in for breakfast and listens to Rainbow as she tells him about the latest happenings in the Big Brother house.

  ‘I don’t think they were really DOING IT,’ she says over her shoulder to her confidant. ‘They were under the duvet and, like, MOVING.’ She indicates the specific type of moving up and down with her hand, grimacing as she does. ‘But who’d do IT on TELLY? That’s RANK!’

  Stan bears it with a stoicism born of years of experience and nods his head when he thinks it might be required.

  Around eleven o’clock the back door opens, letting in a blast of wintery air. ‘I don’t suppose that the kettle’s on,’ Edie says.

  ‘No,’ I answer. ‘But you’re more than welcome to come in and make some tea for us all.’

  ‘Oh,’ she says. And, clearly unable to find a valid argument against it, my sister puts the kettle on and makes us tea.

  We take a quick break and all sit around the table.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ I ask.

  ‘Fine, once you two had stopped shagging,’ she complains.

  ‘Edie!’ I feel myself flush.

  ‘Well, you did ask. I thought you were going to be at it all night, for Christ’s sake.’

  Lija’s expression tells me that she’s quite impressed by what she’s hearing and, in a rarely seen reversal of roles, I glare at her.

  Edie flicks her hair. ‘Actually, I hardly slept at all. That bunk bed thing is like a kid’s bed and the mattress is totally concrete.’ She rubs her back, theatrically. ‘I’m going to need a chiropractor. Ducks quacking woke me,’ she complains. ‘I hate the countryside. I’m used to the sounds of the city.’

  ‘Move to hotel,’ Lija says flatly.

  Edie throws her a disdainful look. ‘I’m here to have Christmas with my family. If that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Then stop moaning,’ is Lija’s verdict. Edie looks as if she’s been slapped.

  I hide my smile behind my coffee cup.

  ‘If you’ve not got anything better to do with yourself, you can help us,’ I say. ‘Lija’s taking it easy after she slipped on the ice.’ I realise that I haven’t told Edie that she’s pregnant. Still, she doesn’t need to know right now. ‘It’s shaken her up.’

  ‘I am not shaken up,’ Lija protests.

  ‘You are,’ I insist and she falls silent.

  ‘Kitchen stuff really isn’t my bag.’ Edie pouts. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

  ‘Then you can learn. What else were you planning to do?’ Edie looks blank for a second too long and I say, ‘Excellent. That’s settled then.’

  I usher Lija off to bed for a rest and then give Edie a few tasks that won’t strain her too much. Even someone unused to the ways of catering work can butter bread and set a table, surely?

  We all have another push on making the food for the Christmas afternoon teas. Our first customers will be arriving soon and I show Edie how we like the tables set and instruct her on filling the three-tier cake stands with our lovely seasonal goodies. Today’s special is a Black Forest cheesecake which has been lavishly decorated with chocolate curls sprayed with edible gold. Very decadent. We’ve a full house booked again today and are going to be busy.

  Edie works quietly, if a little sullenly, and I have to tell her off for eating as much as she puts on the plates even though she’s supposedly a carb-free zone. But she does it – if not exactly with good grace.

  Chapter Forty-One

  In an economy drive, I bring the leftover cheese sandwiches back to the boat and bake them with some stock and single cream that was also going begging after today’s service. It makes a sort of savoury bread and butter pudding. I’m sure Nigella would have some wonderfully exotic name for it. I’ve christened it cheesy bake.

  Edie turns her nose up at it. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many carbs and calories on a plate.’

  ‘Put your complaints in writing to the management,’ I say.

  ‘I could just eat the veg.’ Edie pushes it away from her broccoli.

  ‘If you want lobster and prawns every night, you’re booked in to the wrong gaff,’ Danny adds. ‘Money’s tight.’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Edie says crisply as she forks a morsel into her mouth, turning up her nose as she does. ‘I just won’t be able to get into any of my clothes in a fortnight.’

  We both ignore her, but the shine has been taken off my lovely make-do dinner.

  ‘I called Henry today,’ Danny says when we’ve finished our meal. ‘I’m going to catch up with them all at the weekend. See what’s on offer. I’ll go down straight after work on Saturday, do a bit of networking and will be back in time for work on Sunday.’

  ‘You’re staying over?’

  ‘I’ll crash at Henry’s place. Or with Sienna.’

  My stomach turns to ice at the mention of her name.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It’s cool,’ he says. ‘If I go there and back overnight, then I won’t miss any pay.’

  That’s very good of him and I don’t want to raise my concerns about him staying with the lovely, pouting Sienna – especially not in front of Edie. I don’t want her to think there are any cracks in our relationship. There aren’t. Are there?

  ‘You could come,’ he says. ‘But we’ll probably end up in a shouty, overpriced bar and you’d hate it. I expect you don’t want to leave Lija at the moment, in case there’s an emergency.’

  ‘No,’ I agree.

  ‘What’s the deal with Lija?’ Edie tuts. ‘Everyone’s handling her with kid gloves.’

  I don’t know why I’m not keen to reveal Lija’s condition to my sister, but I’m not and there you have it. Still, we can’t keep it a secret for much longer. I take a deep breath and say, ‘She’s having a baby.’

  ‘Christ on a bike.’ Edie nearly splutters her food out. ‘Lija is?’

  ‘Yes. Next spring.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ My sister looks stunned. ‘Who’s the father?’

  ‘That’s kind of a moot point,’ I explain. ‘He’s not around any more.’ I glance at Danny when I add, ‘We’re planning to stay on and help her out.’

  ‘She’s bloody well going to need it.’ Edie puts her plate aside, food largely untouched. ‘Who’d have thought that Lija of all people would be stupid enough to get herself up the duff?’

  ‘I’m delighted for her,’ I retort in defence of my friend. ‘It will be lovely to have a baby around the house. It’s been too long.’

  ‘Yeah, wonderful,’ Edie says. ‘A howling kid, dirty nappies, tits like cow’s udders.’ She shudders.

  I take it that Edie isn’t feeling very maternal, but keep my own counsel.

  ‘She’ll be a terrible mother,’ Edie continues.

  ‘I actually think that it will be the making of her. You don’t know Lija like I do.’ Edie still looks sceptical. I slip my hand into Danny’s and squeeze. ‘Well, we’re both very much looking forward to it.’

  ‘Yeah. I second that.’

  Edie pouts and then Danny, unsuccessfully, tries to stifle a yawn.

  My sister holds up her hand. ‘Please don’t be saying that you need an early night, you two. I couldn’t bear it. I’m not lying on my own in that cramped cabin and kiddie cot listening to your shagfest.’

  ‘We can supply you with earplugs,’ Danny says.

  ‘No one should
have to listen to their sister having sex,’ Edie counters.

  Danny grins at me. ‘I think your sister makes great sex noises.’

  ‘Bleurgh. TMI,’ she complains. ‘This boat is so claustrophobic. You haven’t even got a telly. That’s positively primitive. We could go out to the pub or something?’

  ‘It’s cosy in here.’ I snuggle closer to Danny. This is the time of day that I love the best. The log burner is roaring away, the curtains are closed against the cold night pressing in, Diggery is curled up next to us snoring gently. The man of my dreams is at my side. The twinkly Christmas tree lights add a magical element. A glass of wine would absolutely complete the picture, but Edie has slugged all that back. ‘Besides, we haven’t got any money to go to the pub. Unless it’s your shout?’

  I don’t want to keep banging on about it, but I wish that Edie would start to appreciate our situation. I’ve never been a money-oriented person, but it makes a big difference when you haven’t got any – at all – and your sister is frittering away pots of cash. She could help us out if she wanted to. However, you know what Edie’s like by now. She’s so selfish that she wouldn’t even think of it. Perhaps I’m going to have to summon up the courage to sit her down properly and raise the matter with her. She did promise me half of the money from the sale of the house but, of course, it has never materialised.

  ‘I’m bored,’ she complains. ‘There’s nothing to do here.’

  ‘You’ve been back for a day, Edie. I thought the idea of this festive holiday was that you were going to bask in the bosom of your family.’

  ‘I miss New York.’ She sighs like a sullen teenager.

  ‘You could have a wild night in the fleshpots of Milton Keynes. Probably. But you’d need to count us out.’

  Edie cocks an ear. ‘Listen to that.’

  ‘What? I can’t hear anything.’

  ‘Exactly. Nothing. Not a bloody sound.’ An owl hoots. ‘Well, apart from that. And a hooting frigging owl doesn’t cut it. It’s as quiet as a grave.’