‘Thank you.’
‘So you’ll be having dinner with your mum tomorrow?’
‘It’s Christmas Day and we’ve got a lot to celebrate, so I think so. Unless she changes her mind. I’m sure you’d be welcome to join us. But I suppose you’ve already got plans.’
‘Sort of. I’ll be with my parents and my gran.’
‘Right.’
‘And in the morning I have this daft charity sea-dip thing on the beach,’ she added, not even sure why she was telling him this. She only knew there were gaps, huge gaping holes that were supposed to be full of the things they needed to say but weren’t, and she had to fill them with something. It didn’t seem to matter what any more. ‘Gran says I’m mental but it’s actually good fun.’
He’d just opened his mouth to answer when the shop phone rang.
‘You want to get that?’ he asked.
‘We’re supposed to be closed but—’
‘It might be important… Don’t ignore it on my account.’
Dodie nodded and went over to pick up the call.
‘Gran? Why have you called me on this phone?’
‘You weren’t answering your other one,’ Gran said. ‘And you told me to phone if they wanted help at the homeless shelter.’
‘Oh, so I did,’ Dodie replied absently, her eyes following Ed as he went to the window and looked out at the street.
‘They’d be thrilled to get more help tonight,’ Gran continued. ‘Can you get here for seven? And would you mind picking me up if you’re coming this way anyway?’
She hesitated. Ed looked around and gave a brief smile before turning back to the window again. What was the point of sitting alone and dwelling on what could have been? The letter was back with its rightful owners and Julia had been reunited with her son. All in all it was a good result and to expect anything else was plain greedy. She’d got nothing else to do so why not make herself useful?
‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘I can help and I’ll come and get you on the way through.’
Chapter Eighteen
Spirits were high at the shelter. Dodie had helped out a couple of times before but she’d never seen it this full or this rowdy. Groups were sitting around tables eating good, wholesome dinners, playing cards and drinking coffee, or deep in conversation with old friends. Christmas songs played on an old radio, a threadbare plastic tree was strewn with faded tinsel and paper chains stretched the lengths of the walls. No sign of Nick, though, and as Dodie stood behind the hot plate wearing a far-from-fetching apron and cap she wondered where he was. His usual excuses, she supposed, though even if he didn’t spend the night she had wondered if he’d celebrate Christmas Eve by having a hot meal there. She glanced down at the hot plate and gave some of the sauces a stir to stop them congealing. There was a choice of peri-peri chicken, curry and rice, fish pie or an early Christmas lunch for those who wanted it, all cooked by volunteers with as much love and care as any top chef at any restaurant. At any other time the smells under her nose would have driven her mad considering the long and hectic day she’d had with little time to do more than snack. But though she tried to stay cheerful for the sake of everyone around her, her low appetite was the real giveaway of her actual mood.
‘Francesco says you can help yourself if you’re hungry,’ Gran said, tottering past with an armful of dirty dishes.
‘Maybe later,’ Dodie said with a vacant smile. She shook herself. ‘Hey, what are you doing with all that? Let me take some.’ Without waiting for a reply she grabbed the top plates and followed her gran to the pot wash.
‘Are you alright, love?’ Gran said as they loaded the crockery into the washer.
‘Of course.’
‘Only you don’t seem quite yourself. Fallen out with Brian?’
Dodie sighed. ‘We’ve split up.’
‘Well, I expect you can fix it again.’
‘No we can’t. It’s not a spat. We’ve split up. For good. That’s it, no more Ryan.’
‘What happened?’
‘I happened. I’m an idiot, Gran…’ Tears squeezed her throat, unexpected and unwanted. Damn it, why did she have to react this way at the most inconvenient times? She swallowed them back. If her love life was a mess she had only herself to blame.
‘I’m sorry,’ Gran said. ‘You must be so sad. And at Christmas too. You’ll find yourself another nice man in no time.’ She reached up and stroked Dodie’s hair behind an ear with a fond smile. ‘Sweet little thing like you won’t be on your own for long so don’t worry.’
How could Dodie tell her gran that it wasn’t about being alone? How could she tell her she wasn’t crying for Ryan because she knew now that they’d never really been in love? How could she tell her she was crying for what might have been because, no matter what everyone said about her supposed goodness and wisdom, she’d got it so woefully wrong with the man who might just have been the real thing – actual true love?
‘I don’t care about that,’ Dodie said, forcing a bright smile. ‘I don’t need a bloke because I have enough to keep me busy as it is.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Gran said, patting her hand. ‘Right, I’d better get the rest of those tables cleared or we’ll be here until midnight.’
Dodie nodded and as Gran went back to the common room she pulled her mobile phone from her pocket. Not a single message from anyone. As she took her place behind the hot plate again, she looked up to see Nick coming in, greetings from all directions as he walked through the common room. As he set eyes on Dodie he broke into a broad grin.
‘Merry Christmas to me! What are you doing here?’
Dodie shrugged. ‘My gran was helping out so I thought I’d come along.’
‘Well it’s made my night.’
‘I wondered if I’d see you here this evening. What are you having?’
He planted a hand to his chest. ‘Please… it’s got to be turkey, right? Today of all days it’s got to be a lovely bit of turkey.’
Dodie smiled. ‘I suppose it has.’
‘So I saw your fella yesterday,’ Nick said as Dodie scooped some mash onto his plate.
‘Who?’
‘Blimey, how many you got? That Ed fella.’
‘Oh, he’s not mine. We’re just friends.’
‘Sorry, I forgot. You’ve got that other one, haven’t you? Sour-looking youth.’
‘Ryan.’ Despite the melancholy and the mention of a painful subject, she couldn’t help but chuckle at Nick’s description of her ex. ‘I suppose he had his moments. We’re not together any more either.’
‘Footloose and fancy free, eh?’ He tilted his head around to the dining room and called out, ‘Form an orderly queue – she’s available!’
Dodie turned puce as the room erupted into laughter. Gran smiled across from where she was stacking plates, though Dodie didn’t think she’d quite caught the joke.
‘Only joking, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Any of these renegades try anything I’ll knock them out.’
‘Oh God, don’t do that on my account!’ Dodie squeaked. ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that!’
‘Just saying,’ Nick added, rolling his shoulders like an East End boxer. ‘So you and Ed… you’re an item now?’
‘No. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason. Just asking. Cos if you were it couldn’t happen to two nicer people. You like him?’
‘He’s pretty busy at the moment so I doubt he’s interested in romance. And like I said, we’re just friends.’
‘He can’t be that busy; he was asking me about volunteering here. And I see him around town now almost as much as I see you. Always gives me a handful of change or gets me a cup of tea. Top bloke.’
‘Ed?’ Dodie blinked. The surprises just kept coming. She’d imagined him holed up in his flat feeling sorry for himself night after night, and that was how he made his life sound. But all the while he’d obviously been making an effort to reach out to Nick and help him. Had he been doing more than that, modesty
dictating that he kept it to himself? Nick had already told her about one time Ed had given him money, but it sounded as though it was happening regularly. There had been many strange coincidences over the past few weeks but Ed running into Nick by accident so often definitely wasn’t one of them. He had to be seeking him out with the intention of helping him, and the thought squeezed Dodie’s heart just that little bit tighter. He’d made mistakes and he’d told some lies, but underneath it all he was a good man. The sort of man who could make Dodie very happy.
‘He’d be good in here,’ Nick said. ‘Ex-army, he tells me. Straight down the line, no bullshit, capable of a bit of banter and looks like he can handle himself.’
‘I suppose he would,’ Dodie said. She handed Nick his dinner and he nodded his thanks.
‘You’re one of the good ones, you know that.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Dodie said with a small smile. ‘We’re all just getting by the best way we know how, aren’t we? Sometimes we do the right thing, and sometimes we mess it up, but the important thing is we keep trying.’
On Christmas morning she’d woken at seven, though the alarm still had half an hour to go. Opening her curtains, she looked across the strangely silent street to see two magpies perched on the opposite roof engaged in a rowdy exchange. Two for joy, she mused, and with a shake of her head and a wry smile went through to put the kettle on.
After opening a box of special Christmas tea she’d treated herself to when she’d bought Gran’s hamper, Dodie sat at the table with her mug, fragrant with the warm scents of cinnamon and star anise, and stared, yawning, at the kitchen wall. It didn’t feel like Christmas, but perhaps that was because she was tired. Her thoughts kept going back to the previous day. It was no wonder she was tired when she considered just how much had happened, and that was without her evening shift at the shelter. She wondered what Ed was doing now. She hoped he was getting ready for a day with his mum – they had a lot of ground to cover to fix their relationship but she was certain that they’d be OK.
Breakfast was her usual of toast and jam – she didn’t see the point in overdoing it when she was going to be throwing herself into the sea in a couple of hours and later on she’d be eating enough for three people anyway. She savoured the peace and quiet for a while – the time to collect her thoughts. There would be enough excitement and noise later too.
As she washed up the breakfast dishes, the radio on the kitchen shelf played the early morning Christmas church service, the pure voices of the choristers singing carols giving her a contented smile as she worked.
Despite the fact she’d only be ruining it all in a matter of hours as she splashed around with hundreds of other mad people on the beach, she took half an hour to fix her make-up and hair. Her outfit was a strange, stiff felt Christmas tree dress that did nothing for her figure, but then, what did it matter?
By 8.30 a.m. she was dressed and ready, drumming on the kitchen table as the local radio began its broadcast of more contemporary music and Wizzard expressed their earnest desire that it should be Christmas every day. A silly notion by anyone’s standards, but something felt different about this Christmas already. Maybe she’d have a different opinion on the matter by the end of it.
While she waited she wished that she’d been able to sleep in a little later but her racing brain had seen to that. But now she had time to kill and it was driving her mad waiting to go out. There was no point in starting any little jobs and no point in waiting around at the beach unless she wanted to stand around in sub-zero temperatures dressed in a felt Christmas tree. Probably not her best idea. But the longer she sat around in her flat with time to think, the more she decided it wasn’t a good thing. More times than she could count she’d been so tempted to phone Ed. To say what? Merry Christmas, how’s it going with your mum? By the way I think I love you and I wondered if we might rerun that scene on the beach where you ask if you can kiss me, only this time I’ll say yes and I’ll snog your face right off. Would he thank her for dropping such a bombshell? Didn’t he have enough to deal with already without her complicating things? Maybe she would make that call one day, but today wasn’t it, no matter how much she wanted to.
With a sigh, she looked up at the clock. It would be freezing down on the beach but at least there’d be plenty of people around to take her mind off silly notions. Grabbing her keys and her kitbag, she headed for the door.
The skies were a thick, heavy blanket of white cloud that stretched out to sea. On the horizon it was hard to see where the ocean ended and the sky began. But the waves were tame, gentle white-topped rollers ambling in and out, which had to be better than the churning conditions Dodie had endured the year before when she’d done the Christmas Dip with Isla.
She pulled into a parking space overlooking the sands. The beach along here was quieter than the main Bournemouth beach and it was easier to park close, particularly today and particularly as the event organisers seemed to have made provisions for it. It would save Dodie walking through the town looking like a mad Christmas junkie. There might not have been many people wandering the streets at this time on a Christmas morning, but even one person seeing this was one too many.
The weather app on her phone had predicted snow, and while Dodie was the biggest white Christmas fan this side of Dorset, even she was hoping it would hold off for a little while. The sea would be cold enough without snow as well.
She’d barely walked twenty yards from the car but already she was feeling the chill beneath her flimsy costume. There hadn’t been much point in wearing lots of layers to get wet and heavy, though, so she’d stashed her bag containing a woolly jumper, fluffy socks and leggings in the boot for when the dip had finished so she could drive home warm and dry.
Dodie turned her attention to the crowds on the beach as she reached the railings that separated the sand from the pavement that ran along its length. It was flanked by pastel beach huts and seaside shops, people with pushchairs, prams, wheelchairs and bikes standing aside to watch the action on the beach.
It looked like a good turnout already; there must have been 700, maybe 800 people waiting at the seashore itself, all dressed as Santas, reindeer, snowmen, pirates, elves, hula girls, aliens and some things that weren’t even vaguely recognisable. One or two very sensible people had turned up in scuba gear, while others had gone for the simple Speedo look. Another sprinkling of spectators stood further up the beach, dressed more appropriately in heavy coats, scarves and hats, pointing and waving at people. It had to be the coldest day they’d had so far since winter had arrived, and Dodie clung to her own coat, determined to leave it on until the very last minute. As she smiled vaguely at fellow bathers, the sense of being alone struck her more keenly than ever before. Doing things on her own had never really bothered her but today, as everyone waited to begin the event with their families and friends in tow to support them, she realised how much she missed that. Isla should have been there, of course, and that had always been enough. She’d phoned her parents and told them not to worry about travelling over from Dorchester as she’d be going back that way to meet them for dinner anyway. And she’d told Gran to stay home where it was warm and dry, knowing she would have been tired out from her evening helping at the homeless shelter and needed the rest. Other friends had partners and children and had moved on. On good terms with Dodie still, but not close enough to expect them to give up their Christmas morning for an event like this. She half wondered if she’d see Nick, but this was too far down the seafront from his usual haunts.
‘Finally! I’ve been calling and calling you! Where’s your phone?’
Dodie whipped round and found herself face to face with Ed.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’
‘Looking for me?’ Dodie blinked. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No… God, no. In fact everything’s amazing. I remembered you’d said you were doing this today and I thought I’d come dow
n – offer a bit of support. And then I thought, what the hell, I can do more than offer support. So I’ve signed up.’
‘To this?’ she asked, angling her head at the sea.
‘Yeah. I’ve not got much in the way of sponsorship but I suppose I can collect after I’ve done it. Mum and Trevor have sponsored me, of course.’
‘That’s amazing!’ Dodie said, breaking into a bemused smile.
‘It’s only a little bit of money.’
‘I mean it’s brilliant that you’ve come. Really brilliant.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ he said.
Dodie’s heart leapt. Did he mean that? And was he speaking as a friend, from gratitude for all she’d done to help get his life back on track, or did he have another reason for wanting to be there today?
‘You must be the best-looking Christmas tree I’ve ever seen,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts.
‘I’m sure you say that to all the Christmas trees,’ Dodie laughed, feeling weirdly giddy at the sight of him looking rested and handsome, even if he was in his scruffy old sports clothes, his smile for her warm and his eyes making her feel like nobody had ever done before. He looked better today than she’d ever seen him look, but she couldn’t decide whether that was down to the new inner peace he seemed to have found or whether she was just seeing that as a consequence of the decision she’d made to bare her soul and the anticipation of what that might mean for them. Because as he stood there, she knew she would have to tell him how she felt. She had no choice but to risk it, to go all or nothing because the alternative – a half measure where she got to see him but didn’t get to touch or kiss him, where she didn’t get to lie in those arms and feel those lips upon her – was unthinkable. Denial was no longer an option, and pretence even less so. And if she didn’t say something today, then he might go back to Blackpool with Julia and never come back.
A Very Vintage Christmas: A Heartwarming Christmas Romance (An Unforgettable Christmas Book 1) Page 24