A Cozy Christmas in Cornwall

by Jane Linfoot

  From the way he leads her around the room and back to the fireplace with perfect timing it’s obvious he’s worked on these moves in advance. By the time he’s repeated the fifth refrain and is humming his way to the end the last bars of music are fading, and we’re all applauding. But he’s still gazing into Miranda’s eyes, and then his hand’s in his pocket, and in one smooth, seamless movement he’s pulled out a ring box and popped up the lid.

  It’s the kind of thing you read about in OK! magazine and see in films, but it’s the first time I’ve seen it unfold in real life.

  Fliss is murmuring beside me, ‘OMIGOD he’s proposing! And LOOK at that diamond!’

  Even from across the room, I can’t believe how huge it is or how brightly it’s sparkling as the candlelight catches it. Let’s just say, from what I know of Daniels’ classiest jewellery, it must have cost a packet, and then some.

  I’m whispering back, ‘She can’t turn that one down.’ What Ambie lacks in willingness to help, he’s more than made up for with carats and the singing.

  Fliss is shaking her head, breathing the words behind her hand. ‘I’m not sure I want to see my mum getting proposed to, some things should stay behind closed doors, it’s a bit like watching my own conception.’

  I’m talking back through clenched teeth. ‘It is very public too, she can’t turn him down.’

  Ambie clears his throat and holds the ring up between his fingers. ‘Dearest Miranda, I was a very sad and lonely man when we met, but you came into my life like a storm trooper, and you lit me up from the inside out … we haven’t known each other long, but I already know, I have to make you mine. And once you’re on my arm I’m hoping you’ll finally become the lady you deserve to be.’

  Fliss gives a snort. ‘Condescending much?’

  Considering how many times she’s sat through similar before, I have to admire Miranda for managing to look like she’s not only enraptured, but hearing something totally fresh and new. And you have to hand it to Ambie, he’s doing this really well.

  Fliss is murmuring again. ‘The adrenalin must have sobered him up, for someone who’s been downing gin all day he’s very coherent.’ She lets out a sigh. ‘All that drinking, as future husband material he’s not ideal.’

  I send her a frown. ‘Fingers crossed it’s fourth time lucky.’

  Ambie’s carrying on. ‘Miranda, I’d love you to do me the honour of being the next Mrs Bentley.’ He drops down onto one knee and holds up the ring to her. ‘Please, will you marry me?’

  A collective ahhhh ripples around the sofas. Then Tarkie pipes up. ‘But Mum, I thought Granny Miranda had too many husbands already?’

  Tiff’s hissing at him very loudly. ‘No, it’s totally fine to get another, Tarkie, she’s dumped all the others, she got her absolute beginner certificates.’

  Tansy’s pondering. ‘Maybe she should get one that’s not old and wrinkly this time.’

  Keef’s voice cuts in from by the log pile. ‘So long as you’re sure, Mirry …’

  Miranda looks up at Ambie. ‘Dear Ambrose …’ Then she looks over her shoulder. ‘Thank you all for your help and concern, this is a big surprise for me too …’ she looks back to Ambie ‘… but I’m delighted to accept.’

  Then as Ambie pushes the ring onto her finger a roaring cheer goes up, mainly from the surfies, and we all clap. And I look round the faces to find Milo. After the way he’s been physically forcing his way between them the last few days, I’d have expected him to rugby tackle the ring before he let this happen. I’m pleased he’s seen sense, been the bigger man, and backed off at last.

  Willow’s shouting at anyone who will listen. ‘Lovers who kiss under the mistletoe will have lasting happiness.’

  As she heads for the happy couple I turn to Fliss. ‘So where’s Milo?’

  Fliss rolls her eyes. ‘Who knows, but he’s not going to be a happy bunny.’

  And then the door opens and he comes in. It takes him a few seconds to take in that we aren’t all watching A Close Shave, and then his brow creases. ‘What’s happening here …?’ Then, as he spots Miranda shaking her left fist like a super-sparkly maraca he comes again. ‘What THE HELL’S GOING ON? IS THAT A RING???’ When Miranda and Ambie are too busy whispering to reply, he rounds on me. ‘IVY?’

  I open and close my mouth a few times before I work out exactly how to put it. ‘Your dad just asked Miranda to marry him, she accepted, and they just got engaged.’ That just about covers it.

  ‘HE CAN’T HAVE DONE IT, NOT ALREADY!’ It comes out as a roar. ‘I TOTALLY REFUSE TO ALLOW IT!’

  Bill’s joining in as he heads towards the door. ‘It’s all done. The best thing you can do now is offer your congratulations.’

  Milo’s snorting. ‘OVER MY DEAD BODY!’

  I can’t understand how he missed it. ‘But where were you?’

  His voice is high in protest. ‘Dad sent me out to the car, I was literally away two minutes.’

  I feel awful for him, because it sounds like Ambie planned it, so I throw in a few more details. ‘Oh, and he sang too.’

  ‘Not Lady in Red?’ His face crumples in disbelief as he takes in my nod. ‘That was my mum’s favourite, he learned to sing it especially for her, we had it at her funeral.’

  Fliss is deflating more with every blow he strikes. ‘I’m so sorry, Milo. But if your dad’s moving on with his life it might be a good thing, he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t feel ready.’

  Milo’s groaning. ‘No offence to your mother, but they’re really not right for each other.’

  Keef’s putting an arm around Milo. ‘Don’t worry, lad, free birds like Miranda don’t take kindly to the kind of cage your dad wants to keep her in. She’ll be off before you know it.’

  Milo’s shaking his head, spitting. ‘Not before she fleeces us.’

  ‘Two little words, Milo.’ Keef’s tapping his nose. ‘Pre nup.’

  Milo sniffs. ‘Technically I think that’s one word not two.’

  Keef looks at the ceiling. ‘Who gives a damn, Milo, stop being a pedantic prick, cut the moaning, and get one in place.’

  ‘I will.’ Milo’s staring across to where Willow has seized an enormous bunch of mistletoe from a jug on the table, and is standing on a chair holding it up as Miranda and Ambie dip their heads together underneath. ‘Excuse me, I need to run …’ One leap, and he’s crossed the room.

  He’s too late to stop Ambie swooping in to give Miranda the snog of her life. But as he punches the mistletoe out of Willow’s hand the bunch explodes, flies in every direction through the air, and scatters all over the floor and the sofas. Which was somehow even more powerful and dramatic than the proposal itself.

  So if lovers who kiss under the mistletoe are guaranteed lasting happiness, a couple having the mistletoe snatched away just as their lips are going to meet has to mean something huge and significant. I’m just not sure what, other than Willow looking like she’s seriously going to lose it with Milo. It’s going to take more than a moment or two of heavy breathing to realign her serenity there.

  Which reminds me … this evening wasn’t meant to be hijacked by a proposal. And I refuse to allow it to turn into the full blown family row that could be brewing here. It’s our Christmas film fest, and from where I’m sitting there’s only one way to get this back on track. And blow all the bossier ladies, I’m going to take charge here. This one’s mine.

  Before I know it, I’m up on the coffee table and clapping my hands. ‘Okay, everyone … I’m going to tweak the running order here slightly, simply because there’s one film that encapsulates every bit of the happiness and positivity we should all be feeling now …’ I break off to give Willow and Milo my specially significant ‘belt the fuck up and be nice’ smile ‘… so let’s all grab our duvets …’ except that might not be necessary, because it’s actually baking in here ‘… put on our Santa hats, reach for the Christmas popping candy and move on with … ta da …’ I pause to do my jazz hands ‘… FROZEN.
’

  And for once Libby’s kids don’t groan, and the Twiglets don’t pull faces and start talking Spanish. They all erupt in a cheer and shout ‘Bring it on, Ivy-leaf!’

  All Merwyn and I can do is to stand back and take the applause and as I scrape the sweat off my forehead and push back the sticky strands of my hair I realise my scar must be in full view. And just for once I really don’t give a damn, and no one else does either.

  28.

  Fifty words for snow

  ‘When you propose to me, please promise you won’t do it anywhere remotely public.’

  As I listen to Bill’s laugh in the darkness over the sound of the wind and distant tumble of the waves as they fall lower down the beach I know I shouldn’t ever have started this. The smallest murmur of protest from him and I swear I’d have stopped. But the lack of any surprise or chiding at all on his part somehow spurs me on.

  ‘And absolutely no singing. I completely forbid you to sing.’

  He gives a grunt. ‘That doesn’t leave me many options. What the hell am I going to do then?’

  As I hear myself speaking, I’m shocked, appalled even, but I carry on anyway. We both know we’re joking, but somehow it’s like an antidote to the underlying tensions of the evening. Considering Miranda and Ambie getting engaged should have been a truly happy occasion without reservations, there were a hell of a lot of undercurrents from all directions.

  ‘You’ll have to be creative. Planes towing banners are definitely out. And I’d hate to have to solve a puzzle, or dig anything up. And it would be a complete nightmare being met off a plane by you holding a piece of cardboard in the arrivals hall. And I’m not thrilled at the idea of a ring buried in a cupcake either.’

  He’s walking in step beside me, still playing along. ‘I had no idea you were so hard to please. How about if I just stick a notice on Merwyn?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘What if you’re the one doing the asking?’

  So like Bill to push this. ‘You’d like that?’ We’re walking so fast now we’re catching our breath between strides.

  ‘I wouldn’t be complaining.’

  Hmmm. So likely. ‘You sound like you’ve been talking to Willow.’

  ‘We’ve got gingerbread women on the Christmas tree, it’s a logical step.’ Simply from the sound of his voice, I can tell his lips have curved into a smile.

  Except none of this is logical. Even in my wildest Will-dreams back in the day I never played out a conversation like this in my head. And yet here I am walking along the beach, the sea on our left is moving up the beach, its lines of breaking foam just visible like pale stripes in the blackness, the words tumbling out of my mouth. Absurd doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s as if once we started we’re daring each other to get more and more blatant. Even though I know we’re both pretending and talking the biggest load of rubbish I’m still getting the weirdest hot and cold rainbow tingles radiating through my body. I need to watch out, this Bill bollocks could be catching.

  I hung a couple of sea glass chunks round my neck yesterday and said the most outrageous things, and that was before champagne got thrown into the mix. When we toasted Miranda and Ambie earlier the bottles of bubbly kept on coming. I know I’ve knocked drinking on the head, but my bestie’s mum just got proposed to and has a rock on her finger the size of a small house to prove it. Obviously I had to have a tiny glass of fizz to celebrate, I just hadn’t expected the alcohol to multiply the sea glass effect exponentially. My only saving grace is that I didn’t invite Bill to come with Merwyn and I on our late evening phone-light walk, he was outside at the wood store and somehow just tagged along, so at least I hung onto my self respect there. And the tiny bit of self preservation instinct I have left is stepping in to save me here too so I’m moving this on.

  ‘As you had the champagne on ice and the glasses ready, I take it you were in on all Ambie’s plans?’ I’m watching Bill, his hands deep in the pockets of his Barbour. He’s close enough that every time we bump elbows I get a delicious burst of the oily smell of wax jacket. But we both know he’s only close because if he was further away it would be too windy for me to hear what he said.

  ‘He needed help with his backing track, so he had to tell me.’ Our eyes have got used to the darkness beyond the light beam from the phone and Bill’s looking up at the clouds racing above us, choosing his words before he rolls them out. ‘It was supposed to be a Christmas Day proposal, but Ambie’s a businessman, he knows the importance of closing a deal early.’

  ‘Milo was hell bent on wrecking things between them.’ It was supposed to be a secret, but anyone with eyes would have known.

  Bill laughs. ‘That too. But Ambie’s biggest worry was losing Miranda to the surf club. If they’d got their boards out, he wouldn’t have been able to compete. That’s more what the rush was about.’

  I can’t help feeling sad for Miranda. ‘If he couldn’t trust her for four more days, he’s not very sure of her.’

  Bill hesitates as he thinks about it. ‘I think he was hoping that once he’d put a ring on it he could relax and enjoy being engaged.’

  ‘More like, if he’s her fiancé she’ll have to give all her attention to him now.’

  Bill’s nodding. ‘That too. I promise I won’t be like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘When we’re engaged I won’t be possessive.’

  I let out a squeak of protest. ‘Keep up, we stopped playing that game way back.’

  He’s just looking down at me, unblinking. ‘We were playing?’

  I ignore that my stomach turned a cartwheel, swallow my heart back down from where it leaped and landed in my throat, and give him a play punch on his arm. ‘Durr, you know we were.’ I know he always does this. Winds me up with a completely dead pan expression. The only way to deal with it is to go in on the attack. ‘Anyway, changing the subject …’

  ‘That’s a shame, I was enjoying the other one, Star-girl.’

  ‘I saw you singing along to Frozen.’

  He lets out a sigh. ‘I wondered when we’d get onto that.’

  That’s the thing, saying he was singing along is understating hugely. ‘Put it this way, with you there joining in, Olaf and Sven were finding it hard to get a word in edgeways.’ I give it a few strides along the sand for that to sink in. ‘Unless you’re one of those people who has total language recall, you only get that word perfect from watching a film a gazillion times.’ I stop and turn to look up at him. ‘So which is it?’

  He lets out a breath. ‘What comes after a gazillion, then?’

  ‘Fuck knows. Maybe a trazillion? Why?’

  ‘As an approximate guess, that’s the number of times I’ve seen it.’

  ‘Oh crap.’

  ‘That’s not the right reply, Ivy-star, this is where you’re supposed to ask me why?’

  His voice slides so deep it’s making my ear drums tremble. There are the same lines on his face I saw earlier in the day, and seeing them sends my stomach plummeting to my knees. That box of DVDs. Keef treading on eggshells asking if we could use them. Was it really only earlier this afternoon? Today seems to have gone on forever. And there’s just this void of tragedy opening up in front of me. He was adamant he didn’t want kids here, and yet he knows his way round a pushchair back to front and it’s not because he’s been a mother’s help. And he can’t stand Christmas. And his house is stripped bare of anything personal. I’ve walked headlong into this one and there’s only one way out.

  My scalp is tingling, and my heart is stone cold in my chest. But most of all, I’m really really kicking myself for being so wrapped up in my own dramas that I’ve failed to notice his.

  ‘You’ve lost a child haven’t you?’

  He’s biting his lip. ‘Yes … and no.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘It’s not as bad as you’re thinking, she’s in London with Gemma. I just haven’t seen her since January so it feels like she’s been gone forever
.’

  He and Gemma had a baby together. It’s been staring me in the face, but I chose not to notice; as the truth finally hits it winds me like a kick in the guts. That’s so much deeper and more complex than being a boyfriend and girlfriend who split up. I’m swallowing back sour saliva and cursing myself for the pangs of jealousy stabbing in my chest. That it was Gemma, not me. That he’ll be tied to her forever now. I know there’s nothing rational about the thoughts my mind is throwing up. I drag myself together, and work out the proper reaction a normal, uninvolved person would give.

  ‘But that’s almost a year.’ As I say it, I can’t hide my horror. ‘That can’t be right!’

  He shakes his head. ‘At first Gemma didn’t want her to get upset by seeing me, and it’s ongoing, I’m the idiot for letting it slide.’

  ‘Does she have a name?’ I don’t want to push him. But at the same time, I’m desperate to know all of it. Right down to the very last detail.

  ‘Arabella, after Gemma’s mum, but Abby for short.’ His voice is wistful and faraway. ‘Saving you the next question, she’s almost six.’

  ‘That’s pretty.’ I’m trying not to think how cute and perfect a mix of him and Gemma will be. And doing the maths. They didn’t wait long after they got together, that shows how mad about each other they were, how committed, how head over heels. You don’t have a baby unless you’re all of those.

  ‘It’s all such a mess. And Gemma insists Abby’s very settled now. The last thing I want is to upset her because I’m selfishly wanting to see her.’ He closes his eyes. ‘But I miss her so much – for four years she was the reason I got up in the morning, although to be fair I didn’t usually have a choice, she’d be prising my eyelids open. She was such a live wire, her smiles brought the whole castle alive. I can’t tell you how empty my life is since she left. How pointless everything feels.’