What Happens At Christmas...

by T A Williams

  Just then the waiter arrived to clear the table and leave them the dessert menu. As Justin made to open it, Holly reached across the table and tapped his hand. ‘Nothing for me, Justin. I’m so full I think I’m going to explode.’

  He dropped the menu and gave her a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry, Holly. You didn’t need to hear all that about me and my troubles. It’s just that your dad was always a really good shoulder to cry on and you seem to have inherited his skills.’

  Neither of them wanted dessert so he asked for the bill. Holly offered to split it with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Outside, the air was cold, but not freezing. Maybe the expected snow was not on its way after all. They drove home in silence until they reached the village. As they came down the narrow lane past the green, Holly made an observation.

  ‘Maybe it’s not too late, Justin. Why don’t you try to see her, talk to her? Or have you already tried that?’

  He slowed up and stopped outside her house. ‘I haven’t seen her since February.’

  ‘What, not at all?’ Holly was amazed. ‘Surely in a small community like this, you must have bumped into her sooner or later?’

  He switched off the engine and half-turned towards her. ‘After a month or so of badgering her by text and email, and not getting any sense out of her, I thought I’d give her time to think things over, so I turned this year into a sort of gap year. I’m fortunate in that I’ve got some really good people running the business for me and they’ve been covering for me. I spent most of March and April in South Africa with my folks, came back in May, and then I went away for another few months this summer. I took the yacht down into the Med and I sailed all over the place; Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, all over. At the end of October, I left the boat in a marina in Cyprus, and she can stay there for the winter. Since I’ve been back here, I haven’t been out much, haven’t done much socialising. Howard Redgrave’s Christmas Eve Ball would be just about my first outing for months.’ He reached over and took her hand in his. ‘Thanks for listening, Holly. I’m sorry to have been so boring.’

  ‘Anything but, Justin. You don’t need my advice but, if I were you, I’d talk to her.’ She leant over and kissed him softly on the cheek and then unclipped her seat belt. ‘Now, I’d better get back to my four-legged friend. Good night, Justin and thank you.’

  She watched the tail lights of the car disappear back up the road again and then opened the door. Stirling, already alerted to her return by his ears or his nose or both was standing just inside, wagging his tail furiously. She ruffled his ears and went over to the table, taking off her coat and holding it against her dress to stop the enthusiastic dog from messing it up. As she sat down, he sat down beside her and a large heavy paw landed on her lap. This was immediately followed by his other front paw and then the rest of him. After a struggle, during which she clung onto her protective jacket for dear life, she managed to persuade him to return to the floor. She patted him on the head.

  ‘Good dog, Stirling… eventually. So, have you had a good night?’ There was a film on the TV pretty evidently taking place in outer space and, somehow, she doubted whether he had been very interested. She scratched his ears as she reflected on her day.

  Since arriving here in Brookford less than a week ago, she had met and formed attachments with two handsome men – three if she included dear old Howard Redgrave. Now, as a result of their meeting earlier this evening, Jack thought she was in a relationship, or at least starting something, with Justin. Besides which, Jack didn’t appear keen to take his own relationship with her any further. Justin pretty evidently was still hung up on his wife, and Howard Redgrave was a sweetie but over twice her age. The last remaining male in the village with whom she had any kind of emotional attachment was sitting on the floor at her feet, looking up at her with the sort of big brown eyes that, were they on a man, would have had female hearts breaking all around him. As it was, Holly knew deep down that she didn’t want to be separated from him.

  Yes, he was a good dog, apart from his habit of climbing on her. Yes, he was well-trained and great company for walks on the moor. Yes, it was great to have another being so clearly delighted to see her every time she came home. But there was more to it than that. This large lump of black hair, bone, muscle and bad breath was the closest remaining link she had to her father.

  Thought of her father took her back to the letter she had read from him earlier. So he had finally found the courage to return to the family home in the hope of establishing contact with his long lost daughter. Unsurprisingly, her mother, after the pain she had suffered at his hands, had told him where to go. But the fact that she had not told her adult daughter about his visit stuck in Holly’s throat.

  The dog in the meantime had slid sideways onto the floor and was now upside down at her feet, all four paws in the air. She scratched his chest with the toe of her Alexander McQueen shoe and, for the first time, began to realise what else might have been underneath her mother’s motivation. All her life, Holly had lived with the thought that her mother had kept her away from her father to protect her little girl from what she saw as his bad influence, but maybe there was another reason, too. Everything Holly had learnt about her father in the last few weeks pointed to the fact that he had been a charming, friendly, helpful, generous man. Suddenly Holly began to realise that her mother had most probably spent her life terrified lest this charismatic man, having wounded her so badly by leaving, might complete the job by taking her daughter from her. For the first time in her life, Holly now felt she had the full picture, and she finally understood the motivation of both of her parents. Her anger towards her mother was replaced by a feeling of sympathy.

  ‘Life’s not easy, is it, Stirling?’ She thought of her mother, living her whole life in fear of losing the one thing that was dearest to her. She thought of Justin still pining for his wife after her inexplicable departure and she thought of Howard Redgrave, heartbroken since the death of his wife of forty years. She thought of Jack and wondered yet again what it might be that was troubling him and how she could help. She prodded the dog. ‘I said, life’s not easy, is it?’

  He looked up at her and his eyes said it all. He was warm, he was well fed, he was loved and, any minute now, once his mistress changed out of those ridiculous high heels, he was going for a walk. For a moment, Holly thought she saw him grin. She reached down with her hand and caught his face in her fingers, the decision now made. She really loved this big animal, for himself and, most of all, for her father.

  ‘Well, one thing’s for sure, Stirling. I’m not letting you go. It’s you and me, dog, best friends forever. Stirling and Holly against the world. All right with you?’ She wasn’t too sure how she was going to arrange this, but she would make it happen.

  Day Seven

  Thursday

  Holly was late going to bed, having spent several hours reading the last of her father’s letters. All bar one. She had decided to keep his last ever message to her until another day, when she could fully take it in. By the time she went to bed, she felt emotionally drained. These letters told of his life in Brookford, his renewed friendship with old acquaintances, among them Howard Redgrave, but underlying all the tales of cricket victories, tennis matches, dinners and dances, the grief he still felt for his dear dead childhood sweetheart shone through. Alongside this was his bitter disappointment at not seeing his beloved Holly. In his more pragmatic moments, he questioned whether her mother would even have told her of his visit, let alone passed on his letter and his gift. In his more dejected moments, he lamented the fact that he had to accept that his only child, his dearest Holly, hated him and never wanted to see him again.

  It was still dry outside and the temperature was dropping. Together with the dog, Holly climbed up to the top of the big hill above the village, and for the first time saw the strange rocky outcrop that gave its name to the hill – the Laughing Man. It took her some time, and she had to walk all the way round the tor a few times before she g
ot it. Squinting at the rock against the orange glow of the early dawn, she finally made out a forehead, a nose and a mouth with a definite upward turn to the edges. As the sun rose above the horizon, the smile turned into a grin and she found herself smiling back at the wind sculpture.

  The view from up there was terrific and she took some photos of the village with her phone. Everything was visible, laid out like a model, from Howard’s Castle hotel and its golf course to the church, her own house, the pub, the green and a large grey stone house where she knew Justin lived, all on his own now that his wife had left him. The sunlight cast shadows alongside all the maze of drystone walls, reinforcing the chequerboard effect. These photos would provide great memories for her when she left the village and returned to London. Of course, she told herself as she and the dog walked back down the slippery path through the ferns, that would depend upon whether or not she decided to return to London. Up here on the moor, in the first light of dawn, she leant against a boulder and found herself seriously considering her future.

  The money her father had left her, plus the proceeds from selling her flat in London, if that was what she decided to do, would make her financially independent. She felt confident that her employers would rather agree to let her work from down here than lose her, but even if they didn’t, she knew she could find another firm that would. So there was nothing to stop her moving to Devon and establishing herself in Brookford. There was nobody in London, except maybe Julia, to keep her there, but what about Brookford? And, when she really admitted it to herself, what about Jack? She had known him for less than a week and, yet had already broken her three dates rule. Could it be she was coming round to believing in relationships?

  She had never been to an analyst, but she was sensible enough to recognise that she had been carrying round some pretty complicated emotional baggage for most of her life. Her father’s departure, she now realised, had deprived her of a person she had loved from the bottom of her heart. His apparent abandonment of her had scarred her to the extent that she had shied away from anything that could risk hurting her in the same way ever again. No long-term commitment meant no deep feelings, no love to be lost, and so no danger of more emotional torment, The fact that she was now actively looking forward to a deeper relationship with Jack had, in some way, to be linked to what she had discovered about her father. Desperate as the results had been for her and her mother, he had chosen the path of true love and it was only now that she could see things from his point of view. She thought back to her A-levels. Amor vincit omnia, love conquers all; the trouble, as with all conquests however, being the collateral damage. Even so, she knew she was ready to try now. Ironically, where Jack was concerned, the problem was not with her for once; the problem was with him. She shook her head to clear it and looked down at the dog.

  ‘This love business isn’t so easy, is it, Stirling?’

  He wagged his tail.

  After a shower and a change, Holly sat down to have some breakfast. As she was eating, her phone rang. It was Julia.

  ‘Hi, Jules, how’s it going?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. I was just ringing to ask if there’s anything you need me to bring from the big city? I could pop into Harrods and pick up some Beluga or foie gras, or if you want me to get you some sexy underwear for Range Rover man, just say the word.’

  ‘None of that’ll be necessary, thanks. There’s a small change of plan though, if your folks don’t mind.’ Holly went on to explain about her having discovered that Jack would be on his own for Christmas lunch and to ask if Julia’s parents would mind if she didn’t after all have lunch with them.

  ‘Absolutely no problem, Hol. So, does this mean I might have to buy you some sexy underwear for Land Rover man as well?’

  ‘I’m all right for underwear, Jules, but thanks for the thought. As for food, somehow, I don’t think we’re going to run short of food and drink. Just bring yourself, sweetie.’

  ‘All right, if you’re sure. I’ll see you at Exeter St David’s at 12.56 tomorrow, Great Western Railways permitting.’

  ‘See you Jules.’

  ‘And you. Give both your hunky men a kiss from me.’

  Holly put the phone down, reflecting that she was unlikely to be kissing either of her hunky men any time soon; one because of residual feelings for his wife and the other for some unfathomable reason. To take her mind off such things, she switched on the TV just as the weather girl was repeating the weather warning for snow in the West Country around Christmas. Holly glanced out of the window at the cloudless sky and wondered if they had got it right this time. If so, getting about wasn’t going to be easy; not without a Land Rover at least. Thought of Land Rovers brought her thoughts straight back to her neighbour, so she turned off the television and looked round for something else to occupy her mind.

  She decided to concentrate on decorating the house. First, she went out to the shed in the back garden and located a large pot. She wedged the Christmas tree into the pot and filled it with compost from a sack, tamping it down well so that the tree stood upright. She bent her knees and crouched down to lift it and very quickly realised she would have done better to fill the pot once it was in place in the house. She couldn’t even shift it off the ground, let alone carry it inside. She was scouting round for a trolley of some kind when there was a tapping noise. She looked across at Jack’s kitchen window in time to see it open. Evidently he had spotted her and realised her predicament.

  ‘Do I spy a maiden in distress?’ He looked happy to see her.

  ‘It’s not quite like that.’ She was definitely pleased to see him.

  ‘Is that the distress part or the maiden part?’

  She smiled at him. ‘I’m not so much distressed as annoyed with myself for committing such a schoolgirl error. I’m an engineer for crying out loud.’

  ‘Help is at hand, fair maiden. I’ll be right with you.’ Sure enough, a minute later, he appeared round the side of the house, vaulted over the dividing wall and came over to help. ‘You take one side and I’ll take the other?’

  ‘I thought a fit, strong man like you would just tuck it under your arm.’

  ‘The trick to staying fit and strong is not to do too much heavy lifting. Come on, grab hold and lift with the knees.’ Between the two of them they made short work of bringing the tree indoors and positioning it in the corner. As they did so, both of them were severely hampered by Stirling who was delighted to see Jack again. Holly found that she was too.

  She straightened up and went over to close the back door. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Love some, if I’m not stopping you working.’ She went over to the worktop and pulled out her father’s old Moka machine. Jack followed her over and watched as she unscrewed the bottom part, filled it with water, measured out the coffee into the filter and screwed it back together again. As she put it on the hob, she looked up at him. ‘I’ve got an amazing Gaggia machine back in London, but the coffee this one makes is almost as good. It just doesn’t do the frothy milk.’

  ‘I prefer mine black anyway.’ He looked back at her and an expression of concern crossed his face. ‘What’s up? I’ve seen you in your pyjamas, I’ve found you smelling like a Labrador, and even fairly tipsy on good wine, but you’re definitely looking bothered today. What’s the matter, gorgeous?’

  Holly gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m not feeling very gorgeous. I spent most of last night reading letters written to me by my father.’ He raised his eyebrows and she went on to explain about the box of letters she had found, ending with her father’s visit to her mother’s house in Cheltenham. ‘So he really did try to contact me, and my mum sent him away without telling me.’ Her eyes were stinging once more. ‘I was twenty-six, Jack. She should have told me. It broke my dad’s heart.’

  He gave her a look of sympathy. ‘It didn’t, Holly.’ His voice was low. ‘His heart was already broken.’

  ‘Lynda?’

  ‘Lynda. He never recovered from her death. I thought I knew a goo
d deal about heartbreak, but I’ve never come across such devotion. It was almost Shakespearian in its intensity. Seeing you would have helped, but the damage was already done.’ He sat down at the table and gently dissuaded Stirling from climbing onto his lap. ‘For such a kind, good man, life dealt him a pretty crappy hand.’

  ‘Or maybe he played a good hand badly.’ Holly was still wondering what he had meant by his heartbreak remark when the coffee pot started bubbling. Glad to be able to change the subject, she counted up to ten and then removed it from the heat, setting it on the table. ‘Biscuit?’

  The man and the Labrador both looked up with interest and she found herself smiling again. ‘I’ve got some chocolate ones in the fridge. And Stirling can have another one of his biscuits. It is Christmas, after all.’

  ‘Talking of Christmas, I have to ask a big favour of you.’ She looked across at him as he explained. ‘Having insisted that Christmas lunch be at my place, I just found out ten minutes ago that there’s a problem with that. I called the electrical spares place in Exeter about the part I’ve been expecting for my cooker and it won’t be in till after Christmas. So, until then, the hob works, but the oven doesn’t. Unless you fancy raw turkey, I’ll need to use your oven and, at that point, it might be better if I take you up on your kind invitation to have Christmas over here.’

  ‘Of course, Jack. No problem.’

  ‘Great. Now, I’ve got a socking great turkey, a dozen sausages, loads of spuds, Brussels sprouts, onions.’ He ticked the items off on his fingers. ‘Carrots, peas, cauliflower, cranberry jelly, crackers, champagne, beer and wine. I haven’t got round to the pudding yet.’