Christmas at Carol's

by Julia Roberts

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Matt shouts, running down the path. ‘Geez, Carol, are you okay? What happened?’

  I’m now shivering violently, a combination of the shock of almost being knocked down outside my front gate and the extreme cold. I manage to nod.

  ‘Let’s get you inside,’ Sally says, putting her arm around me and ushering me towards their front door. ‘You’d better check on the driver, Matt, and pull Carol’s door to. You have got your keys, haven’t you?’ she asks me.

  I nod again, still trying to process what just happened. I can hear a car door open and Matt’s voice but I can’t make out what he’s saying while Sally is offering words of comfort in my ear.

  ‘Sit here,’ Sally says, steering me towards the sofa and tucking a fleecy throw across my legs, ‘and I’ll get you a cup of sweet tea. I know you prefer coffee,’ she calls through from the kitchen, as I hear cupboard doors open and close, ‘but tea is supposed to be good for shock.’

  I’m still shaking several minutes later, despite my hands now being wrapped around a mug of steaming hot tea, but at least my heart has stopped thundering in my chest.

  ‘What happened?’ Sally asks, turning back from the shutters at their window where she had been checking on the situation outside.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I was putting my wheelie bin out, grateful for the lights of the passing car so that I could see what I was doing, and the next thing I knew there was an almighty crash. Is the driver out of the car yet? Do they look okay?’

  ‘It looks like it. They’ve managed to separate the cars and he’s parked behind you. Matt’s just pointed in our direction so I guess he’s suggested coming in so that he can give you his insurance details. Do you think we need to ring the police?’

  ‘I don’t know. I guess if the road isn’t blocked and nobody’s hurt there isn’t much point.’

  ‘But shouldn’t they breathalyse him or something? We don’t want to be responsible if he’s over the limit and he crashes again on his way to wherever he’s headed. The next victim might not be so lucky. They’re coming up the path. If I smell alcohol on him I think I will call the police to be on the safe side.’

  The door opens and a tall blond man follows Matt into the room. He looks shocked, but otherwise unharmed.

  ‘This is Jacob,’ Matt says, by way of introduction. ‘I’ve already got his insurance details but he wanted to come in to apologise and make sure you are all right, Carol.’

  Jacob’s eyes are a deep grey-blue and he appears to be scrutinising me. For a moment, I wonder if he’s a doctor.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he says, his tone deep and velvety, ‘I honestly don’t know what happened. I was driving along and I noticed a movement in the corner of my eye. I thought it was a cat about to dash out in front of me so I touched the brakes and the next thing I knew I was sliding towards your car. I must have hit a patch of black ice.’

  I have been listening to his explanation, honestly, I have, but his voice and chiselled cheekbones have distracted me somewhat. He is the most handsome man I have ever seen in real life. Everyone is staring at me as though I’m expected to say something but I am quite simply rendered speechless. I hope they all think I’m still in a state of shock which, in a way, I am.

  Sally is standing as close to Jacob as possible without it seeming weird and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. In her opinion, he obviously hasn’t been drinking and Matt validates his story further by confirming it is icy on the road surface.

  ‘That’s the problem with living on a quiet side road. They’ve probably already gritted the main drag through the village but they rarely get to us. It’s even worse when it snows; we can’t get the cars down here at all. We don’t get a lot of passing traffic since they put the barriers up at the other end of the lane in the summer to stop people using it as a short-cut. Are you visiting someone or had you taken a wrong turn?’

  For a split second, Jacob has the look of a rabbit caught in headlights.

  ‘Actually, I haven’t been this way for a while and didn’t realise it’s a no-through road. I’m one of the annoying people that always used it to avoid the traffic lights in the market square. It must be a lot quieter for you with no through traffic.’

  ‘It is,’ Matt said, ‘but now we have to queue up with everyone else at the lights and it’s a bit of a pain having to go down to the bottom to turn around. You’d better be careful when you leave as there is bound to be more ice the further away from the houses you go.’

  I finally find my voice.

  ‘Is your car okay to drive?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jacob says. ‘The impact sounded a lot worse than it actually was, although your car is going to need a new bumper and probably a new rear wing as well. I’ve emailed my insurance company already and Matt has got all my details, so hopefully they’ll have you booked in for the repairs as quickly as possible. I should probably be getting going. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,’ he says, once again fixing me with his intense gaze.

  ‘Much better now, thanks,’ I say, wafting my mug in the air as though hot sweet tea is, after all, the cure-all it is reputed to be. ‘Drive safely.’

  Three pairs of eyes fix on me and I can feel my cheeks flush. Maybe not the best choice of words.

  Chapter 9

  19th December

  I didn’t stay long at Matt and Sally’s last night once Jacob had left. The sweet tea had done a great job of reviving me and I wanted to get back home to keep an eye on my fire. I hadn’t put the guard in front of it while I nipped out to do the bin and I was feeling anxious that maybe the accident with my car was just the start of a run of bad luck. I had started picturing a spark from the fire catching a branch of the Christmas tree and the whole cottage going up in flames while I sat sipping tea next door. I hope I didn’t come across as rude after Matt and Sally had been so neighbourly. I’ve already decided I’ll walk into the village later and buy them a nice bottle of wine as a thank you.

  It’s unlikely I’ll be driving anywhere anytime soon. I had a look at the damage to my car after breakfast and it looks as though the crushed metal would prevent the back wheel from rotating properly. Apparently, there was barely a mark on Jacob’s four-wheel-drive Audi so maybe I’ll buy German next time. When I was making my excuses to leave last night, Sally kindly offered to ferry me to the big supermarket in the next town for my pre-Christmas food shop but I explained that I wouldn’t need much as I’ll be at Noella’s. If I do need any extra bits I can buy them in the village and I didn’t bother to mention that I have a freezer full of ‘meals for one’ so I won’t be going hungry.

  ‘Are you away at all over Christmas?’ I had asked her on my way out.

  ‘No, we’re having Christmas here. Matt’s parents live in Spain so we won’t be seeing them but his brother is coming for a few days, and my mum, dad and little sister are here on the big day but only for lunch and the customary walk afterwards. I’m looking forward to a bit of “us” time, once we have the house to ourselves, if I’m honest.’

  It must be nice to have someone to share some ‘us’ time with. I don’t think I’ve ever had a boyfriend over the festive period. They always seem to conveniently dump me about a fortnight before my birthday, which is only two days before Christmas and is the reason Mum and Dad will be coming to visit on Friday. Presumably, none of my former boyfriends thought I was worth spending two lots of hard-earned cash on for presents, not a problem I can ever remember Noella sharing. Her birthday is on Boxing Day, hence the rather obvious name choices, which we were teased relentlessly about at school. Even in that department my sister fared better than me. Noella has an exotic ring to it whereas I am just plain, boring old Carol. I shake my head, trying to clear it of negative thoughts, and plan my day ahead instead. I might as well get on with painting the spare bedroom, even though it looks unlikely that it will be used anytime soon. First though, I’m calling Rob about Leanne’s parents’ phone number.

  ‘Robert
Johnson, how can I help you?’

  ‘Oh, hi Rob. I hope I’m not disturbing you. It’s Carol here, Matt and Sally’s neighbour. I just wondered if you have that number for me?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I rang first thing to get their permission to pass it on. Have you got a pen handy?’

  I have to suppress a smile. Clearly, I come across as someone who writes down phone numbers rather than storing them straight on my phone. In this instance, he is right. I have a pen poised above a note pad but only because it seems pointless storing this particular number in my phone when I’ll probably only use it once.

  ‘Fire away.’

  He rattles off the number and gets off the phone in under thirty seconds, either still embarrassed by Matt’s failed attempt at matchmaking on Saturday, or genuinely busy selling houses in the week before Christmas. I think not, regarding the latter, but I’ll try not to take it too personally. I stare at the number on the pad for a moment. I need to think carefully about what I’m going to say to Gillian Sykes, Leanne’s mum, because I’m only going to get one shot at it.

  I know I shouldn’t have done it, but after my macaroni cheese supper last night, which I have to say wasn’t a patch on my mum’s, leaving a rather unpleasant plasticky taste in my mouth and making me wish I’d accepted Sally’s offer of dinner with them again, I carried the pink envelope through to the kitchen intending to steam it open over the kettle. When I examined it more closely, the glue had only partially stuck and I was able to slide my finger under the flap and ease it open without tearing the paper. At that point, guilt kicked in and it took another thirty minutes before I finally retrieved this year’s card to read the message inside. It was only one line – ‘I will always love you, Annie x’ – but it still brought a lump to my throat. There was also a folded sheet of writing paper and it took me another few minutes of soul searching before I finally smoothed it out to read.

  Darling Annie

  I miss you more with every passing day. It has taken a huge amount of willpower for me not to come and knock on your door to beg your forgiveness now I know where you live. I wanted to, believe me, but your mum told me you never want to lay eyes on me again and I have to respect your wish. I can’t bear the thought of going to my grave with you not knowing what happened and how much I love you, so I’m praying that you’ll read on as you clearly don’t want to speak to me.

  I nearly didn’t at this point. It all felt so private and I was intruding. The only thing that made me continue was the thought that somehow, I might be instrumental in getting them back together.

  It should have been the happiest day of our lives, Annie, the start of our future together and I ruined it because of my dad. When we were organising the wedding, you asked me if I was going to invite him and I said no. It’s difficult to forgive someone who has abandoned you at a vulnerable age and broken your mum’s heart. I didn’t think he had a right to be part of something so joyful, but in the end I turned to him in desperation. The boys got me very drunk, trust me I’m not proud of myself, but their little prank of setting me up with a prostitute backfired. She earned a couple of hundred pounds for untying me from the bedposts and lending me her coat– that’s the truth, I promise. I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t go back to ours as you were so adamant about not seeing me on our wedding morning and I had no money as the boys were going to fetch me in the morning and had taken everything. I’ve always known where my dad lived and in my desperate drunken state I thought that maybe he could go some way to redeem himself by letting me sleep there for the night. It’s the biggest mistake I have ever made. Mum never told me that he was into drugs and when I told him I was getting married the next day he went crazy, saying all women were bitches and he couldn’t let me ruin my life. He must have drugged me cos I didn’t wake up for three days, by which time you had disappeared. Even as I’m writing this it all sounds so far-fetched but I swear it’s the truth. Your mum obviously thought I was lying when I turned up on their doorstep looking for you, but you know me better than she does. I would never willingly do anything to hurt you, Annie, please believe me.

  I’m still on the same number but I’ve put it at the bottom of this letter as you’ve probably deleted it. Please call me; my life is empty without you. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll take it that you have moved on and I won’t bother you again, I promise.

  Jake xx

  I sat staring at the letter for several minutes. He could be lying, of course. Maybe he simply got cold feet on his wedding day at the enormity of the commitment he was about to make, but somehow I doubted it. I don’t even know Jake but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and I wanted Annie to as well.

  That’s why the call I am about to make to Gillian Sykes is so important and why the plan I’ve devised to get Leanne to come to my cottage simply has to work.

  Chapter 10

  22nd December

  I press the red button with the telephone symbol to end the call. I must confess, I’m in a state of mild shock. Leanne Sykes has just agreed to call at Wisteria Cottage this afternoon to sign the release document from the gas company. She did say she couldn’t remember being party to an agreement that prevented anyone else from taking over the supply unless she expressly gave her permission in writing, but that would be because it never existed. Thankfully, it seems she has a kind heart and doesn’t want me to be without gas over Christmas because of something she had inadvertently forgotten to do. And, as it turns out, she has only moved a few miles away so I’m not inconveniencing her too much. I guess my nightmare story of dealing with foreign call centres and being passed from pillar to post, with no progress being made, is a shared experience we can all relate to. In the end, though, it was probably the fake tears that swung it.

  The surprise was that Leanne had rung at all. I wasn’t even sure that her mum would pass on my number after I spoke to her on Monday, regardless of my tale of woe. She was very guarded in her responses to my questions and clearly had no intention of giving me any contact details for her daughter. I suppose her protectiveness is understandable, but I couldn’t help thinking if she had tried to mediate when Jake turned up on their doorstep, rather than sending him away, things could have been different.

  I do feel bad about lying to both of them but, ultimately, I have Leanne’s best interests at heart. When she has seen the Christmas cards from Jake and read his version of events, it will be up to her to decide whether or not she wants to give him a second chance. At least I will feel I have done the right thing by making sure she has received them. I have a good feeling about today.

  It had already started well, before I received the phone call from Leanne. Among this morning’s post was an envelope bearing the crest of Donnington College, which I presumed was the customary Christmas card and book voucher, thanking me for my contribution over the past year. I was wrong. It was a letter informing me that the head of the English department, Miss Abraham, was taking early retirement and offering me the opportunity to interview for the role as, in their words, they thought I would be the perfect candidate. Of course, it doesn’t mean I’ve got the job but at least it would appear that my more focused efforts over the past few months have not gone unnoticed. I was so excited, I immediately rang Mum and Dad but no-one was home.

  With the benefit of hindsight, I’m quite glad. I’ll tell them in person tomorrow over my birthday lunch, which is one of the reasons, along with Leanne’s impending visit, that I devote the next two hours to cleaning and tidying. I’ve barely used the gas cooker since moving in, relying mostly on the microwave, but I give it a quick wipe anyway before steam cleaning the tiled floors in the kitchen, hall and bathroom. I run the vacuum over the carpeted floors in the rest of the house keeping an eye on the fire in the lounge which I now seem to have got the hang of keeping alight.

  It’s not until I flick the switch to turn on the fairy lights on the Christmas tree, wondering how Leanne will feel when she sees her carefully selected decorations brightening a stran
ger’s home, that I notice it has started to snow.

  The flakes are small and infrequent, floating down from the palest grey sky only to disappear the moment they hit the ground, but it still makes me smile. Memories of rushing down the hillsides near my parents’ house on a yellow plastic sledge, with my sister gripping me so tight around the waist that I could barely breathe, fill my mind. I can still feel the rush of cold air turning our cheeks pink and the wet iciness of snow creeping over the top of our wellington boots as we trudged back up the hill for another run. The simple joy of being a child back then, before mobile phones and tablets turned everything from real to virtual. I don’t know whether Daisy and Alfie, my sister’s kids, would be allowed to go tobogganing; Noella probably considers it too dangerous. If I ever have children, though it’s looking less likely with every passing birthday, I’m determined they shouldn’t miss out on all the fun stuff, even if it is slightly risky.

  Chapter 11

  Three o’ clock, the agreed time for Leanne to call in, has long since come and gone. I’m wondering if she has changed her mind, particularly as the snow is now falling quite thick and fast, when I hear a knock at the front door. This is it, I think, taking a deep breath and wiping my slightly sweaty palms down my jeans as I head for the front door. I don’t know why this matters to me so much, but it does. I don’t want there to be any underlying sadness surrounding Wisteria Cottage; I want my home to be a happy place. Maybe getting the two of them back together will be the catalyst to a brighter future for them, and for me as well. I organise my facial features into a smile, open the door and have to adjust my gaze upwards by several inches.