A Very Vintage Christmas: A Heartwarming Christmas Romance (An Unforgettable Christmas Book 1)

by Tilly Tennant

  His frown lifted. ‘Honestly. You’re not saying that because you feel sorry for me? You really want me to move in?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do. But I do need some time to sort things out. Can we hold that thought until after Christmas?’

  ‘After Christmas.’ He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. ‘I can do that.’

  Chapter Eight

  Monday mornings arrived with alarming regularity and this one was no different. With her promise to Ryan still hanging over her head, Dodie stood in the kitchen of the flat above Forget-Me-Not Vintage and reflected, as she had many times that weekend, on just how tiny it was. She was tidy and Ryan was a slob. She was eclectic and he was minimalist. She liked quiet, introspection, history documentaries and monochrome films and he liked shouting at football on the TV. How in the hell was this going to work? Maybe if they had a huge house where they could lose each other every once in a while, but here…?

  Her life as she knew it was about to change beyond recognition. Most people would see this kind of commitment as a good thing, but Dodie wasn’t most people and she rather liked her life just the way it was. Perhaps she was being unreasonable and perhaps she was being stubborn, clinging to a life she’d grown to love. Perhaps Ryan moving in was just what she needed to spark some changes around the place, and perhaps it would be good for her. She tried to focus on the positives, as difficult as it was to spot them on the choppy seas of her looming new future. She tried to convince herself that she was being a selfish cow and that Ryan moving in was exactly what she needed. She’d reacted badly at the restaurant, the very least she owed him now was to give it a chance to work.

  She opened at nine on the dot to find a young girl on the doorstep who’d passed by the previous day and had seen a lime-green kaftan through the window. She explained it would be perfect for a bad taste party she was going to so had come back as soon as the shop had opened in case it was sold. Dodie had to agree with the bad taste bit – she’d only put it in the window as she thought the bright colour would catch people’s eyes – but she couldn’t imagine how it would have been sold before the girl returned. She’d learned since she’d started this business that there was no telling what would sell, and as she rang up the sale she gave silent thanks for bad taste parties and prayed for many more over the festive season.

  The second customer of the morning was her gran. Dodie suppressed a groan as she heard the bell go on the door and turned to find her smiling in the doorway.

  ‘You’re early,’ she said as Gran tottered over to the counter.

  ‘The gas engineer is coming tomorrow and I’ve been invited to go bowling the next day so I thought I’d pop in while I got the chance.’

  ‘Bowling?’ Dodie frowned. ‘You mean bowls? On grass? It’s a bit cold for that, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Gran said amiably. ‘That sort of bowling when you throw it down an aisle at some sticks and knock them over.’

  ‘Tenpin? You’re going tenpin bowling?’ Dodie raised her eyebrows but her gran was fast running out of ways to surprise her these days. ‘Who are you going there with?’

  ‘Alan Lawrence.’

  ‘Who the hell is Alan Lawrence? I can’t keep up with your boyfriends!’

  ‘They’re not my boyfriends,’ Gran said as she started to peel off her coat. ‘They’d like to be, but I’d rather keep them guessing.’ She handed her own coat to Dodie, who took it with a questioning look. ‘I thought I might try that lovely green coat on again,’ she clarified. ‘The one you had in the other day. You haven’t sold it, have you?’

  Dodie chewed her lip for a moment. It wasn’t that she minded giving Gran her coat – she’d happily give her anything she had – but she wasn’t sure she could cope with the going around in circles that trying on would have them doing.

  ‘I did sell it,’ she said, making a mental note never to wear it when her gran was around. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But I thought you wanted a camel coat anyway? I’ve been looking out for one for you.’

  Her gran’s expression brightened. ‘Have you? That’s sweet of you.’

  ‘So if I see one I’ll get it in stock and then you can come and look at it. There’ll be no obligation because I’m sure I could sell it anyway.’

  ‘Lovely.’ Gran rubbed her hands together. ‘Cup of tea?’ she asked, going through to the back of the shop without waiting for a response.

  Dodie shook her head. There was no point in replying because her gran would make her a cup of tea no matter what she said. Besides, she quite liked her gran’s visits to the shop, even if they did sometimes leave her reeling. But then her mind went back to Ryan’s imminent moving in and she realised that even the nature of her gran’s visits would change with him living there. It wouldn’t be just her place, and she wouldn’t be able to let her gran loose in it just as she liked. And what if Gran visited when Ryan was there? Upstairs in his pants watching telly and scratching unnameable parts while Gran pottered around making tea and checking her cupboards for digestives?

  She shook herself. Morose wasn’t her thing, but how she was feeling today came pretty close. But the fact was she’d agreed and she couldn’t very well back out now. Besides, she ought to be happy about the prospect of spending more time with her boyfriend; anyone else would be. It would be good for them, and hadn’t she always said it sometimes felt like a part-time relationship? This would cement things, make them into a real couple. She couldn’t complain about that. She just wished that sinking feeling wouldn’t keep plaguing her every time she thought about it.

  Ten minutes later Gran reappeared with two mugs of tea and handed one to Dodie.

  ‘Isn’t it funny?’ Gran said as she took the spare seat behind the counter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve just seen a green coat upstairs exactly like the one I tried on in here. In your wardrobe. I didn’t know you had another one.’

  Dodie clung onto the internal groan so it wouldn’t escape, cursing the fact that she hadn’t bolted upstairs to make sure the coat was firmly stashed in a carrier bag under her bed.

  ‘Still,’ Gran continued, ‘I expect it looks nicer on you than it did on me.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  They lapsed into silence as Dodie took a sip of her tea and Gran bit into a chocolate digestive. Then she spoke again, spraying crumbs over the counter. Dodie stared at them, fighting the urge to run and get a dustpan to clean up the mess.

  ‘I wanted to tell you something.’ Gran screwed up her brow in concentration. ‘What was it? Oh!’ she cried, causing Dodie to almost throw the tea she was holding over her shoulder. ‘Your letter!’

  Dodie sat forward. Finally a subject she could think about and not feel down. An outcome she might have the power to influence when everything else seemed to be slipping from her grasp. With all the drama around Ryan’s announcement the letter had been pushed to the back of Dodie’s mind. Hiding there, not forgotten, but waiting patiently until she had time to pay attention again. Now looked like that time, and it was just what Dodie needed to cheer her mood. ‘You found something?’

  ‘I think… now let me get this straight. I was at salsa dance class and I was talking to Winnie, and I was telling her about your letter. And then she shouted to Arthur who came to listen. And then Arthur called Gloria over and she said that her dad’s uncle had a friend who fought in France during the war and he was supposed to marry a Margaret somebody or other, but he never came home and she spent the rest of her life mourning him. Such a terrible story.’

  ‘Gloria told you this?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Gran nodded cheerfully.

  Dodie blinked. She’d been expecting that George or Margaret or both would be dead, and she had even been ready to hear that he hadn’t made it back from the war, but to hear it confirmed still left a sense of numb shock. ‘Does Gloria know the family?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Dodie frowned slightly as she processed the new informa
tion. Now it seemed more important than ever that Margaret or her family got the letter back – it might be the only thing they had left of George.

  ‘Well, could she find out Margaret’s surname? Could you ask her?’

  ‘I can ask her. Of course her dad and his uncle are both dead now so it wouldn’t be much use asking them.’

  ‘Probably not,’ Dodie agreed wryly. ‘But will you let me know if you find out?’

  ‘Yes.’ Gran reached for another biscuit from the plate.

  Dodie turned her gaze to the window and tried to temper the feeling of excitement building inside her at the thought that she might just have a clue. She wanted to leap up now, lock the shop and rush to Gloria’s house to grill her. It was a silly notion, of course, and real life had to come first – shutting the shop and rushing to Gloria’s house wasn’t going to pay the bills. Still, the idea that she was just that little bit closer to the truth had Dodie’s insides fluttering. So much for letting the mystery go.

  Gran stayed for an hour, during which time she’d managed to try on four pairs of shoes, two jackets and a tweed skirt and not take any of them away with her. But she’d had fun trying on so Dodie couldn’t see the point in complaining, and all the while they’d talked over the possibility of learning more about George and Margaret. Gran’s information was patchy and not much better on more in-depth scrutiny, but Dodie was hopeful that more would come soon once Gran’s friend had done some digging.

  At five Dodie turned the shop sign to closed and locked the world out with a thankful sigh. Something from the freezer would do for supper and then a soak in the bath, she thought, if only because she knew that her days of soaking peacefully in a bath for hours on end were numbered. Afterwards, hair coated in scrummy-smelling banana conditioner and wrapped in a fluffy towel, she curled into the corner of the sofa with her laptop to do some more digging into George and Maggie.

  Research wasn’t as easy as it looked on the TV where they pushed a few buttons and – hey presto! – the result you wanted was right there in front of you. The reality was rather more laborious and less glamorous. Dodie had read some mind-numbingly boring stuff as she trawled through endless obscure pages ranging from census records to lists of schoolchildren. Nothing.

  Isla’s name suddenly flashed up on her phone.

  ‘Oh, hey! I was just thinking about you; how’s everything? You’re feeling happier?’

  ‘Better, thanks. I think it really helped having our evening together – just talking to someone who doesn’t have their own agenda, y’know?’

  ‘And has it helped you come to a decision?’

  ‘Maybe. I’m closer, even if I haven’t quite made up my mind. Honestly, it’s more about what other people will say than what I want now.’

  ‘It’s really not,’ Dodie began, but Isla jumped in to change the subject.

  ‘So… are you OK? Sorted things out with Ryan?’

  ‘Oh, he’s fine,’ Dodie said, deciding not to tell her about his request to move in and her mixed feelings on the subject. Isla had enough to worry about, and the more she thought about it, the more Dodie could see that she might have overreacted to the news.

  ‘Did he stay over?’

  ‘No, went home. Early start. I probably won’t see him until the weekend now; we’re both a bit busy.’

  ‘So what are you up to?’

  ‘Oh… this and that.’

  ‘Your letter?’ Isla asked, and Dodie could hear the wry smile in her voice.

  ‘OK, yes. I’ve been searching again.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to bother.’

  ‘I wasn’t, but then my gran came over with some news and made me think about it again. One last go, and if I don’t get anywhere by the end of this week I’ll give up. I’ll be too busy to worry about it over the next few weeks with Christmas coming up. So if you do go to the Alps…’ Dodie continued, hoping to turn the focus of the conversation back onto Isla, ‘when were you thinking?’

  ‘I’ve got to go soon, to be honest. Like in the next week or so.’

  ‘A bit short notice, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think it’s to do with the timing of the will reading. That, and it took a while to track me and Mum down, apparently, so they’re up against it now.’

  Dodie’s glance went back to the laptop, the screen open to show a page of black-and-white photos from a VE Day street party. If Isla’s father’s solicitor had had trouble finding two people living in twenty-first-century Britain with more technology than ever before, what hope did she have of tracking down George or Margaret?

  ‘So you might be gone for Christmas? Your mum will not be happy about that.’

  ‘She would go nuclear! No, I’ll have to get back somehow, even if that means leaving France and going back to finish off afterwards.’

  ‘Expensive business, four flights instead of two.’

  ‘Hey, but my dad is paying, right?’

  ‘In that case can you go via the Seychelles?’

  ‘I can try,’ Isla laughed. ‘Screw the old goat for as much as I can get.’

  ‘And you’ll need a chaperone; can’t just go flying around the world all by yourself.’

  ‘Absolutely. Know anyone?’

  ‘Let me think about it and get back to you.’ Dodie grinned down the phone.

  ‘I wish you could come,’ Isla said, serious now. ‘I’d appreciate the company.’

  ‘Even if I had the money for the flights I couldn’t leave the shop at this time of year. Otherwise I’d have bloody loved to. Just one thing… under no circumstances must you hook up with a hot ski instructor named Jean-Luc and decide to stay there because I will not be impressed.’

  ‘I seriously doubt you need to worry about that. I’ll be keeping a low profile, getting my head around meeting my dad and possibly a whole new family for the first time. I have so many questions; I don’t even know where to start.’

  ‘Sounds to me you’ve already decided you’re going.’

  ‘Maybe. But then I’m more like you than you realise so there shouldn’t be any surprise there…’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, we both find it hard to settle when there’s a mystery to be solved.’

  ‘I never thought about it that way.’ Dodie glanced back at the laptop. ‘I suppose it’s true. I suspect your methodical way of dealing with things is better than mine though.’

  ‘I don’t feel very methodical right now. In fact, I’m an emotional wreck and I don’t much care for the feeling.’

  ‘Even more than when we watched Titanic?’

  ‘I wasn’t crying, it was your bloody air freshener getting in my eyes.’

  ‘Of course it was. How silly of me to forget that. Listen,’ she added, serious now, ‘if you need to come over and talk, any time at all, then just come. I’ll always make time for you.’

  ‘I know you will,’ Isla said. ‘I’m so lucky to have you. But right now I need to get things straight in my own head.’

  ‘A bit more talking might help?’

  ‘A bit more talking might tie me up in bigger knots. I feel as if all I do is talk about it and I must be driving everyone nuts. Thanks, but this is for me to figure out now. But as soon as I know what I’m doing, you’ll know too.’

  ‘I’d better!’ Dodie said with a smile. ‘The title of best friend has to come with some privileges you know.’

  ‘Always. So, you want to tell me what’s going on with your letter? Anything more from your gran? Turned up anything new?’

  Dodie glanced back at the screen again. If Isla thought her predicament was boring then Dodie’s current painstaking line of investigation was likely to put a room of insomniacs to sleep.

  ‘Trust me, you really don’t want to hear about what I’ve been reading.’

  When she was a little girl, Dodie’s gran and grandad used to take her to the Lower Gardens at the heart of the town to see the brass band play. They’d sit on the grass in the sun eating ice cream, and
while other children fidgeted next to their parents or ran about playing tag, Dodie would sit, mesmerised by the musicians with their starched uniforms and gleaming instruments, nodding to tunes that had been penned long before she was born. She’d sit still for hours, snug in her gran’s arms watching the show, and would always feel sad when the applause died and everyone started to drift away. Looking back, she often wondered whether her love of old things had started that very first time her grandparents had sat her down on the yellowing grass one roasting July day to watch that brass band play.

  The night after Isla had poured her heart out there was a concert – a medley of Christmas hits by a local orchestra ensemble – and Dodie was determined not to miss it. She’d even phoned her gran to see if she wanted to go, but she had made arrangements to try out a pottery class with someone named Kay she’d met in Waitrose. Dodie didn’t even ask what the hell that was about, because she was used to her gran muscling in on every social occasion going. Besides, it was good for her; when Dodie’s grandad had died everyone thought Gran would wither to a shadow within a year, but she’d faced her grief head-on and fought it. Her way of coping with the loneliness was to make sure she never spent a minute alone.

  It didn’t matter that her gran was busy, though, because Dodie was happy enough to stand in the park and watch the band by herself. It might be the last opportunity to do anything much by herself before Ryan moved in – not that he’d be seen dead at an open-air brass band concert.

  So at seven that evening she was huddled in her new green coat, unglamorous thermals finally put into use and hot chocolate in her grip as she stood on the grass and waited with the crowds for the show to begin. The smells of the nearby bratwurst stall lingered in the air, and further down the gardens the disco music from the ice rink could be heard along with shrieks of laughter from its customers. Maybe she’d have a look later; maybe she’d even be persuaded to have a go this time.