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

by Tilly Tennant

  Down in the shop, she frowned slightly as she hurried to let her gran in.

  ‘Everything OK?’ she asked, fear clenching her gut. Her phone had been off – what if something terrible had happened, an emergency, and she hadn’t been there to respond to it?

  ‘Oh yes,’ Gran said cheerfully. ‘I was just passing, you know, and I thought I’d pop by.’

  ‘But you rang the shop bell?’

  ‘I thought it was about time you were open; it’s ever so late, you know.’ Gran stepped in and Dodie locked the door again.

  ‘It’s Sunday. I’m not open on Sunday.’

  Gran blinked at her. ‘Is it? I hadn’t realised. You do lose track of the days when you retire, you know, and with all the other shops open in the town it felt like Saturday…’

  ‘They’re open because the Christmas markets are on.’

  ‘Perhaps you ought to be open too?’

  ‘I don’t think I’d get enough business to warrant it and I already do six days,’ Dodie replied, suddenly wondering how on earth she’d come to be discussing her business strategy with her gran on a Sunday standing in the middle of her shop in her pyjamas.

  Gran looked confused for a moment, but then she shook her head. ‘Oh, don’t mind me, I have some news for you.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Dodie asked, her vexation at her gran’s appearance suddenly lifted. ‘Something more about Margaret?'

  ‘Margaret?’ Gran shook her head. ‘No idea who you’re… Oh! You mean that woman who wrote the letter?’

  ‘She didn’t write the letter; George did…’ Dodie began, but then she stopped herself. ‘Never mind. What’s your news?’

  Gran broke into a broad grin but didn’t reply. Dodie waited as Gran continued to grin like a loon.

  ‘Ryan’s here, Gran, so if you’ve got something to tell me you’d better—’

  ‘I’m getting married!’ Gran squeaked.

  It was Dodie’s turn to stare like a loon, but she wasn’t grinning. ‘What!’ she spluttered.

  ‘I’m getting married!’ Gran repeated. ‘Isn’t it exciting? Bernard Truman asked me and I said yes!’

  ‘Who the hell is Bernard Truman?’

  ‘I met him at darts… remember?’

  ‘No, I bloody don’t! I’m pretty sure I’d recall if you told me about potential marriage material! And since when did you play darts?’

  Gran looked troubled. ‘I’m sure I did mention it. Are you upset? It means I might have to bring Bernard when I come to visit you…’ She lowered her voice as if Bernard might be hiding around the corner eavesdropping. ‘He gets very anxious when he’s left alone.’

  ‘What is he, a bloody labradoodle?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be cross, Dodie. I’m old I know, but I’m entitled to a bit of happiness. And he really is no trouble. He’s got his own bungalow in Moordown and five thousand pounds saved up. Gets free sausages from the butcher’s on account of his cat helping keep the mice down.’

  ‘Of course you’re entitled to be happy,’ Dodie said, trying to level her voice. ‘I’m just surprised, that’s all. Very surprised. What’s Mum said?’

  ‘Well… you know how protective she is… I was hoping you’d tell her.’

  ‘Holy Mary! You want me to tell her? I don’t sell bulletproof vests here you know!’

  ‘But she’ll take it so much better coming from you.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘And you can persuade her it’s a good idea.’

  ‘I doubt that as well. Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’ve hardly known him for five minutes.’

  ‘At my age you don’t mess about,’ Gran said. ‘Never know how long you’ve got left.’

  Dodie tugged a hand through hair that still needed combing from bed. There was no argument against her gran’s statement, even though the whole idea was madness.

  ‘Have you set a date?’

  Gran looked sheepish. ‘Don’t be angry…’

  ‘I’m going to get angry? Like, you’re going to tell me something even worse than what you’ve told me already?’

  ‘You might. Because we can’t see any point in a long engagement. Like I said, not at our age because you never know…’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘So we thought Christmas Eve.’

  Dodie had run out of exclamations. She stared at her gran, hoping she’d wake any minute to find this had all been a cheese dream.

  ‘What about your other boyfriends?’ she asked, not knowing what else to say, despite how weird her question was when looked at in context and how ridiculously imminent the wedding date was.

  ‘Oh they won’t mind. He does have his own bungalow, after all, so how can they compete with that?’

  ‘How indeed…’ Dodie let out a sigh. ‘What are you going to wear?’

  ‘I don’t know. Will you come shopping with me?’

  ‘What about Mum? Surely she’ll want to go shopping with you, and I don’t have time with my own shop to run.’

  ‘Oh, your mother won’t want to come.’

  ‘Anything to do with the fact that she won’t approve of this shotgun marriage?’

  ‘I’m not pregnant!’ Gran said indignantly, and Dodie held in a scream.

  ‘I mean it’s sudden!’ She took a deep breath and tried to level her voice. ‘Gran… you’re going to have to talk to Mum about this. She won’t be happy hearing it from me. Ideally, Bernard should talk to Mum with you, seeing as he’s about to become her stepfather. Have they even met?’

  ‘I doubt it; I only met him two weeks ago and that’s hardly time. Unless they’ve run into each other in town before now.’

  ‘Hardly likely as Mum is in Dorchester and Bernard, as you just mentioned, has a lovely bungalow in Moordown.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Gran said. ‘I’d forgotten about that. In that case they won’t have met.’

  Dodie was about to sit her gran down and explain her reservations about the whole marriage business, which mainly boiled down to the fact that she’d only known Bernard for two weeks, and that, regardless of his bungalow and his five thousand pounds and excellent mouse-hunting cat, perhaps she ought to get to know him a little better before she committed in a legal capacity, but then Ryan appeared at the doorway.

  ‘I wondered…’ he began but stopped when he realised what he’d walked into. He was already backing away from the door when Gran threw him a bright smile.

  ‘Oh, hello, Brian!’ she said.

  Neither Ryan nor Dodie bothered to correct her because, no matter how many times they’d done so in the past, he’d always been Brian in Gran’s mind and probably always would be. It had got to the point now where it was easier to live with and sometimes Ryan even thought it was funny. Not today, though. Today he just looked terrified as he clocked Dodie’s thunderous expression.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked tentatively, looking from one woman to the other.

  ‘I came to tell Dodie about my engagement,’ Gran said. ‘You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?’

  Dodie could tell Ryan didn’t know whether to laugh or scarper. After a moment of indecision he opted for the latter and disappeared at a speed that would have made Usain Bolt proud, mumbling something about waiting upstairs until they were finished. Dodie turned to Gran.

  ‘Sit down; I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll sort this out.’

  Gran had left with a promise to phone Dodie’s mum as soon as she got home. Ryan had left shortly afterwards when Dodie explained to him what her gran had done, and that it looked as though she had a lot of smoothing over to do with her mum. Dodie figured he was probably terrified he might somehow end up involved and thought it was better to be out of the way entirely. She couldn’t blame him for that, though she would have appreciated the support.

  A bit of Dodie could understand why her gran had rushed into an engagement, but she couldn’t fight the constant weight of her need to protect her. They didn’t know the first thing about Bernard, and every time Do
die’s objections to the wedding had brought them round to that fact, Gran had an answer that did nothing to lessen Dodie’s fears. The fact was that Grandad had provided well for Gran in the event of his demise, so she was a relatively wealthy woman these days. Dodie felt sure that this fact wouldn’t have escaped the attention of many of the so-called friends she’d made here and there since Grandad had died.

  When Dodie phoned her mother later, she got the answering service, which meant her mum was either out or already embroiled in a heated debate with Gran and blocking the line. Whichever it was, Dodie needed some air. She was juggling so many balls right now that it was beginning to feel as if she’d have to grow extra arms to keep them up. Very soon, she was going to drop them and everyone who was relying on her to keep them whizzing around and around was going to be let down and it would all be her fault. She could feel her anxiety levels zipping through the roof as she thought more and more about all the things demanding her time and this was the kind of stress that a glass of wine or an old film couldn’t fix. At times like these, there was only one place she wanted to be – a place where the only thing that mattered was the feel of sand beneath her feet and the steady rhythm of an ever-dependable tide.

  The sun was already dipping below a shell-pink horizon as she stepped out onto the street and locked the door behind her. December was racing by, bringing not only Christmas but also the shortest day of the year. Her breath rolled into the frosty air as she took the road into town. The evening was clear and crisp – a good night for stargazing on the beach. This was one of her favourite things to do since she’d arrived in Bournemouth to live. She didn’t manage it as often as she’d have liked to, but sometimes she’d take herself along the promenade, walk for miles along the tarmac that hugged the softest sand, all the way along the coast to the outskirts of town at Boscombe. Somewhere in between, the lights of Bournemouth faded and the ones of its coastal neighbour were still too far away to reach into the dusk, and the stars would burn brighter. Dodie would sit huddled on the sand and look up at the pinpricks of light for a while and feel like a comfortingly tiny part of creation. Nobody ventured this far out from either resort apart from the odd jogger or cyclist, and so it was like a little no-man’s land, and Dodie loved the peace and calm of it. One day, she’d think as she passed the pastel beach huts that flanked the promenade, she’d get herself one of those beach huts and she’d stay out all night, every night, as long as she wanted, looking up at the stars that were as numerous as the grains of sand on her beloved beach.

  But the prospect of that life was distant and muddied as she walked through town tonight. Not only did she have Gran and the shop to worry about, but there was also Ryan. Once he moved in, nights like this, where she was free to come and go as she pleased, would be gone. He’d never forbid her, of course, but he’d frown and roll his eyes and complain and make snarky comments and eventually it just wouldn’t be worth the hassle. They’d settle down to nights in front of the telly with game shows, take-outs and sex on a Saturday, and the months and years would roll by until she’d quite forgotten who she used to be before he’d moved in. Perhaps it was all a normal part of growing up and growing older, but if it was, Dodie wasn’t sure she was ready to grow up just yet. What if she was never ready?

  The lights of the Christmas markets greeted her as she reached the town centre, along with the sights and smells of the season that had been so welcoming the last time she was here with Ed. Now it filled her with an odd sort of melancholy that she couldn’t explain. Leaving the markets behind, she crossed down into the gardens and past the now dark and silent bandstand, down the path and out the other side to the promenade. As she crossed under the road bridge that straddled the space, she heard her name echoing across the tarmac and turned to see Nick leaning against a wall, sleeping bag scrunched on the floor at his side, nursing a Starbucks.

  ‘Looking for your boyfriend?’ he asked as Dodie made her way over.

  ‘Ryan?’ Dodie asked, trying to pinpoint an occasion where Nick had met Ryan. She was pretty sure it had never happened while she’d been with him, and if it had Ryan wouldn’t have given Nick the time of day.

  ‘Is that his name? Decent bloke. He was down here earlier today. Gave me a tenner so I got myself a nice cinnamon latte.’

  ‘Ryan gave you a tenner? Earlier today?’ Dodie repeated, realising even as she did that she probably sounded like a mentally subnormal parrot.

  ‘Not long ago, actually,’ Nick continued. ‘An hour, tops. Stopped for a chat. Asked about you; I said you were a good ’un, a real keeper, and that any man worth his salt ought to treat you nice.’

  Dodie frowned. Ryan had left her two hours ago, but it was likely he’d have headed straight back to Dorchester. But then the lightbulb finally popped.

  ‘Ed?’ she asked. ‘Ed was down here earlier?’

  ‘That geezer you were with the other night,’ Nick said. ‘Ed, is it? Top bloke.’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Dodie said.

  ‘Pity. I reckon you two would go well together.’ Nick sniffed. ‘Who’s this Ryan then?’

  ‘My actual boyfriend.’

  ‘He treats you nice? Takes you out and stuff?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ Dodie said.

  ‘Good,’ Nick said, nodding sagely. ‘Good.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ Dodie asked. ‘You need anything? Supper? Some money?’

  ‘Ah, well, I’m flush tonight on account of Ed.’

  ‘But you won’t be tomorrow,’ Dodie smiled.

  ‘Love, you keep your money. You do enough for me as it is and I’m not taking it when I have plenty to keep me going for now.’

  Dodie forced a smile and put her purse away. ‘Do you know where Ed went?’ she asked.

  ‘Said he was going to walk along the beach. Must be a fair distance by now though.’

  ‘Which way – left or right?’

  ‘Left… up towards Boscombe.’

  ‘Thanks, Nick. See you later,’ she said, starting to walk in the direction of the beach. ‘And watch yourself tonight – it’s going to be freezing!’

  Striding past the pier entrance towards the sand, Dodie fished her phone from her bag. In all the excitement of the day she’d clean forgotten to switch it on. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt to see that there was no further message from Ed apart from the one expressing his uncertainty over the decision to let Sally Chandra from the Echo interview him. With her non-reply, she’d wondered if he’d send another one asking again, or even articulating annoyance at her lack of response, but this apparent indifference was strangely disappointing. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from Ed, but it wasn’t indifference. It didn’t really matter, though, she decided, because perhaps indifference was for the best – she was hardly going to be able to hang out with him when Ryan moved in anyway.

  Still having no more of a clue how to reply than she did before, she closed the original message again. There was also a missed call from her mum, obviously returning Dodie’s from earlier, and there was a text from Isla saying she’d pop over on Monday evening before she left for France.

  Stuffing the phone back in her bag, Dodie pulled her collar around her chin and picked up the pace along the seafront. The sea was calm and very still, a gently undulating mass of black stretching as far as she could see, but the air was already bitterly cold, the beginnings of frost glinting on the tarmac as she passed under the sodium pools of streetlights. Before she’d left she’d pulled on her thermal undies. Ryan would have died laughing to see her in them so it was lucky he hadn’t been there, but at least she’d be warm on the beach as she stargazed. Although that was something else he’d have died laughing at.

  There were more people around than Dodie had expected to find, and she passed joggers, cyclists, dog walkers, even the odd brave family, kids armed with beach toys and wellies on their way home. But as she moved further from the town, further than the beach huts and showers, the walk became more solitary. Once the sounds of the
town had faded, she found a spot under the shadow of the gorse-speckled cliffs and sat down on a bench, looking out to sea. Pinpoints of light bobbed around on the blackness and she watched, trying to imagine just how much better the light from the stars would be if she was aboard one of those boats now, out on the open sea. They’d be scattered across the sky in vast swathes, like dust in the sunlight. She’d only ever seen them look like that once before, during a power cut on holiday in a remote villa in Spain with her parents when she was fourteen, but she’d never forgotten it. She’d probably never see them like that again.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by laughter coming from close by, high-pitched giggles followed by the voices of two, maybe three young men, and then a couple of different girls. She turned to see a group of teenagers making their way towards her seat. But then they veered off onto the sand, pots clanging in bags and blankets under their arms. It was a bit cold for a beach party, but Dodie had learned that in Bournemouth nobody cared about such trivialities; if you had a beach this good on your doorstep, why not have beach parties, even in the winter?

  Time to move on for Dodie, though. Much as she didn’t blame them for wanting to enjoy the seafront, she didn’t want to listen to them. She’d come for peace and solitude, and it looked as though she’d have to find that further down the beach.

  She walked for perhaps ten minutes more, moving away from the sounds of the town, passers-by getting less and less frequent. Her shadow lengthened and shrank as she passed from lamp to lamp, her breath curling into the frosted air. Then she spotted a figure, sitting alone on the sand, just visible in the darkness. They had the posture of someone who’d spent a lot of time having to think about it, and that was one thing she’d always noticed about Ed – his proud bearing. She often wondered whether that had come from his time in the army, but it was just another question she had been too afraid to ask.

  Making her way cautiously across the sand, the figure became clearer and she saw that it was Ed, just as she’d guessed. He’d been motionless, straight-backed as he stared out to sea, but suddenly whipped around at her approach.