A Very Merry Manhattan Christmas

by A Very Merry Manhattan Christmas (retail) (epub)

  “Nope!” He patted her knee. “You’re whisking me away to New York City, so you can help me break the news to her.”

  “I’m hardly whisking you away, Dale. You agreed to come to support me, and I’m very grateful, but you know I’d do the same for you any day, don’t you?” The chill began to seep outwards, penetrating her limbs and making her stiffen.

  “I do know that, Luce. But I’m not asking for that right now. I just want you to help me break the news, soften the blow or however you prefer to word it.” Lucie saw a tiny muscle in his jaw twitching, which she knew from long experience meant that he was stifling laughter – at her expense.

  “Can’t you just tell your dad and get him to speak to her?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh please, Dale?”

  “Nope.”

  Lucie sighed. Dale was right; she really should help him speak to his mum about it. Glenda had always been very kind to Lucie, ever since she’d first gone round for tea when they were in primary school. This thoughtfulness had continued through secondary school, and after Lucie’s mum had passed away, Mrs Treharne had been kinder than ever, as if she sensed that Lucie was lost. With no daughters of her own, she’d seemed to enjoy Lucie’s company and had taken her on frequent shopping trips during her teenage years, as well as telling her all about the facts of life. Yet Lucie still found her a bit intimidating; the woman was a fierce matriarch and extremely protective of her family. She had been a member of the PTA at St. Clotilde’s while her boys attended the school, and even spent a few years as a governor there. Glenda was a woman who didn’t baulk at expressing her opinion, and even though Lucie had never actually heard Dale describe a time when his mother had lost her temper, it had become the stuff of legend. Possible. Yet still to be witnessed first-hand. And terrifying.

  “Okay then, I’ll come. When do you want to tell her?” Lucie’s neck had stiffened and she moved her head from side to side in an attempt to loosen it.

  “Sooner the better I figure.”

  “Next weekend?”

  “Yeah, come round for Sunday lunch.”

  “Hadn’t you better ask your mum first before inviting me?”

  “Lucie, you know that won’t be a problem. Mum absolutely adores you. Of course I’ll ask her, but she’s always telling me to bring you round.”

  “Next Sunday it is, then.”

  Lucie wriggled. Her left leg had gone numb from being pressed against the car seat, and her right was aching from trying to prevent it from brushing against Dale’s. Not that the physical contact would bother either of them – they’d always been quite tactile – but it just seemed a bit strange being squashed up with him in the back of their friend’s car. As if they were teenagers again, or…

  “You two are like an old married couple, you know that?” Arianwen flashed them a smile in the rear-view mirror. “I’ll never understand why you didn’t get together at some point.”

  This time it was Dale who wriggled in his seat. Lucie hoped he’d look at her but he didn’t, seeming instead to deliberately turn his head and stare out of the window at passing cars.

  Of course, Arianwen hadn’t been around before Lucie had left for university, and the thing – whatever it was – that had happened between them that summer was something that Lucie and Dale never spoke of: it was almost as if it had never happened. The very fact that Dale never raised it made Lucie certain that it was because it was something he’d rather forget.

  Why else would he refrain from mentioning it?

  Ever.

  Chapter 3

  Lucie closed the door of her car and went round to the boot. She pulled out two large carrier bags and put them on the ground, locked the car, then picked up the bags and waddled towards the school, trying to avoid bumping her shins with her awkward load.

  When she reached the entrance to St. Clotilde’s Primary School, Lucie ran her card through the scanner, turned around and pushed the door open with her bottom. The familiar scents of paint, cabbage and fart greeted her. The school had smelt the same ever since she’d attended it as a pupil and she suspected that it would smell that way until the day it was torn down. The thought made her heart dip; she’d imagined her own children attending the school one day. Although seeing as how she was thirty-three, had no admirers on the horizon and was still waiting to hear the ticking of her biological clock, she wondered some days whether she’d ever have kids.

  There’d been men over the years, yes, but she’d never found one she could imagine living with. Something always put her off: hairy toes, hairy ears, snoring, not putting the toilet seat down… all superficial reasons to reject a man, perhaps, but how could she allow herself to fall in love with someone when she couldn’t look at his feet without recoiling?

  Most of the time, she didn’t even get past the first date anyway: things usually went wrong. Like the last one she’d been on when the guy had paid his phone more attention than her, and when she’d caught a glance of the screen, he’d been on a dating app. During their date! Suffice to say, at the end of the evening she’d been relieved when they’d taken separate taxis travelling in opposite directions.

  She hadn’t allowed herself to really care about anyone since the Christmas after graduation, when Jamie Davenport had broken her heart. After she’d allowed herself to fall madly in love with him, the bastard had hurt her more than she could ever have imagined. She’d been like a zombie that Christmas, and her poor father and Dale had tried so hard to cheer her up, but Lucie had been inconsolable. It was after that terrible Christmas that Lucie had decided not to return to university the next year – to study for her masters in education, as she’d planned for so long – but instead to ask for more hours at the local supermarket where she’d been working to put herself through another year of higher education.

  She spent the next two years at the supermarket. She didn’t mind the routine and enjoyed the daily interaction with customers and the security of knowing exactly what she’d be doing on any given day. At times, she’d been convinced that she might end up working there until she reached retirement age and that retail was her destiny. Then one day she saw an advert for a teaching assistant post at St. Clotilde’s. Something told her to go for it, and she’d got the job. Perhaps she could have been a teacher, had she followed up her BA in English Literature with an MA in Education, but she always reminded herself that she was happy enough in the job she did. She loved working with the children, preparing them for each term then watching with pride as they accomplished so much in their early years. She didn’t get the same pay cheque as the classroom teachers, but she did get to enjoy the buzz of seeing children learn and enjoy their time at primary school.

  Lucie shuffled into the staff room and put the two bags filled with recyclable materials in the corner by the pigeonholes. Dawn, the year three teacher she supported, had asked her to save up plastic bottles, toilet rolls and anything else that could be used to make Christmas decorations, so Lucie had been washing out bottles, yogurt pots and milk cartons for months. She knew the children would be delighted to start making festive decorations, and their innocent enthusiasm was so cute. She just wished that she could share their excitement in the buildup to the Christmas break.

  * * *

  Sunday morning arrived, and with it a sense of dread. The week had flown past and Lucie had barely had time to think about lunch at the Treharnes’. Today, she would help Dale break the news to Glenda, and she worried that it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  She showered then blow-dried her wavy, dark-blonde hair straight, before spending twenty minutes staring at the contents of her wardrobe. What did you wear in such circumstances? What was appropriate when going to tell your best friend’s mother that her son would not be around for Christmas? Because of you? In the end, she selected a pair of indigo denim jeans and a red V-neck jumper that she paired with a navy silk scarf printed with tiny rosebuds. Smart-casual, she hoped.

  At eleven o’clock, she heard the be
ep of a horn. She grabbed her bag and coat and went out to meet Dale. She climbed into the passenger side of his van and did a double take.

  “Well, you’ve scrubbed up nicely!” He’d had his hair cut shorter than normal and was clean-shaven. He was wearing a grey button down shirt, which Lucie couldn’t help noticing emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, along with a pair of black jeans.

  “What’re you trying to say, Luce? That I usually look like a sack of rotting leaves?” He stared at her, his face deadly serious.

  “Of course not! Just… you know… I’m used to seeing you in your overalls or pub casuals.” She watched him carefully then saw the twitching in his jaw. “You’re winding me up!” She punched him playfully in the arm.

  “You’re too easy, Lucie.”

  “I’m just really nervous today.”

  He nodded. “Me too.”

  “You think your mum’s going to flip?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “It’s like we’re kids again and we’re in trouble for not doing homework or something.”

  He nodded. “And that was always bad enough.”

  He drove them across town to the home where he had grown up. His parents owned a detached five-bedroom house that they’d renovated during the seventies. It was now worth a small fortune, but Glenda had once told Lucie that she’d never sell as it was full of memories of her boys growing up. Lucie had always thought that it would be lovely to have a home like that to return to, where there was always a warm welcome. A proper family home was like a security blanket, somewhere to run when times got tough; a place where hot chocolate and hugs were offered freely.

  Lucie had never had a place like that. After her mother died, her father had moved them closer to the town, keen to escape the memories of the home he’d once shared with his wife. Following his marriage to Thelma when Lucie was at university, he’d moved again, and now they lived in a three-bedroom semi that was built in the mid-eighties. It was grey and soulless, and nothing about it felt like home to her. Luckily, she had her own flat, or she’d have been completely rootless.

  Losing her mother had changed her life in so many ways, and it was now very different to the life that she’d envisaged as a child. But wasn’t that just reality for many people? How many adults actually had a parental home to run to when everything overwhelmed them? Lucie would have liked to be able to go and have a cup of tea with her mum, to drop in and chat about her day, but even that was impossible. Sometimes life was so unfair.

  Yet she had more than many people, and she always tried to remind herself of that when sadness crept in.

  “So how should we do this today?” Dale asked her.

  She chewed on her bottom lip then stared at her fingers. “Quickly?”

  “Like ripping off a plaster?”

  Lucie watched as an elderly man walked his ratty-haired dog along the pavement, his head nodding every time the dog stopped to sniff at something. For a moment, she wished she was the old man. Then she wished she was the dog. That way she could avoid what she was about to do. “I guess so.”

  “I’m not sure. I mean… Mum’s always made such a big deal about Christmas. But she has said in the past that she knows things will change at some point. I think she’ll be okay, especially as I’m going with you.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

  “I hope so, Dale. I don’t want to upset her but I don’t want to go to New York alone either. It just wouldn’t be as much fun.”

  Dale glanced at her quickly before turning back to the road. “So we’re going to have some fun, are we?”

  “As long as we can pretend it’s not Christmas, yes, we will.”

  He shook his head. “Not sure I can oblige with that one, Lucie. If I’m going to come to New York with you in December, it’s going to be impossible to ignore Christmas. Perhaps I can even try to help you enjoy the festivities for once.”

  Lucie sank deeper into her seat and exhaled slowly. She wanted Dale to have a good Christmas, it wouldn’t be fair to drag him all the way to New York otherwise, but as for her enjoying it… that might be a bit much to hope for.

  Dale pulled up in front of his parents’ driveway behind a brand new silver Audi. It sparkled in the morning sunshine and reminded Lucie of a small plane. All it needed was a set of wings and it could soar right off into the sky. She guessed it probably belonged to Dale’s older brother, a dentist with a lucrative practice.

  “Looks like Ieuan’s here already,” Dale said as if reading her thoughts. “Think the whole clan will be today.”

  Lucie’s stomach flipped as she unbuckled her seatbelt. The thought of facing the whole Treharne family whilst breaking the news about Christmas was daunting. What if they all thought she was a bitch for taking Dale away? For ruining the usual festive routine. Dale and his brothers were almost as protective of their mother as she was of them, and Lucie didn’t want to face their collective resentment.

  “Let’s do this, then,” Dale said, flashing her a smile. “I think it’s best if we play it by ear. See how the land lies and I’ll tell her when the moment’s right.”

  “Okay. Good plan.”

  They got out of the van then walked up to the front door and Dale called out as he opened it. The mouth-watering aromas of roast chicken and thyme greeted them as they entered the magnolia-patterned hallway. It was warm and cosy inside.

  “Hello, you two!” Glenda appeared in the kitchen doorway, an apron tied around her neck and waist, covering her usual beige trousers and pastel blouse. She hugged Dale then did the same to Lucie. “I hope you’re hungry. I’ve made a mountain of food.”

  “You know me, Mum,” Dale said as he rubbed his flat stomach. “Plenty of room in here.”

  “That’s because you don’t look after yourself properly at that house of yours. You need to get the kitchen in soon. Beans on toast will not keep you going long-term.”

  “It smells wonderful,” Lucie said as they followed Glenda through to the kitchen.

  Hank was at the central island carving a large steaming chicken. He looked far younger than his sixty years. Although his hair was greying, his skin was smooth and clear and his eyes, as he turned them to her, were as warm and lively as Dale’s. Her friend had inherited his mother’s dark hair and olive skin tone, and his father’s eye colour and strong jaw. Hank had also passed on his height and broad shoulders, and it was one of the things that Lucie knew women admired about Dale. He didn’t even have a gym membership, but good genes and an active lifestyle meant that he looked like he could play international rugby. The thickening at the bridge of his nose from a childhood break added to his charm, and had certainly provided Dale with a talking point when they were growing up. He always told people that he broke his nose play fighting with his oldest brother, but in reality it had happened when Lucie fell out of a tree and landed on him.

  “Are you all right, Lucie?” Glenda placed a hand on her arm.

  “Sorry?” Lucie shook herself as she realized that she’d been staring at Dale while he spoke to his father.

  “You seemed far away.”

  “Oh yes, I’m fine thanks. Just a bit tired.”

  “All those hours spent preparing for the school play, no doubt,” Glenda suggested as she filled the kettle with water then flicked the switch.

  “Yes. It’s been a busy term and the children get more and more excited by the day. Sometimes, they get so wound up they’re impossible to teach. I really don’t envy their parents having to deal with them during the holidays.”

  “That’s all part of the fun, Lucie. I loved it when the boys were younger. Children are what Christmas is all about. Every parent knows that…” She bit her bottom lip. “Oh, Lucie, I’m sorry dear. Me and my big mouth. Sometimes I just prattle on and don’t think. Do you forgive me?”

  “Of course. I wasn’t offended.”

  My mother didn’t care about me at Christmas but normal parents do. Normal parents put their children first.<
br />
  “Can I help with anything?”

  Glenda glanced around the kitchen as if to check. “No, I think we’re on top of it all. Why don’t you and Dale go and say hello to Ieuan? He’s in the conservatory with Thomas, telling him all about his new Audi.” Glenda rolled her eyes and Lucie giggled. Ieuan was a complete obsessive when it came to cars and Lucie was certain that he bought a new one every six months at least. But apart from brief flings with women he never brought home, he’d never settled down, and as he had such a successful private dental practice, he had plenty of money to flash around.

  Lucie went through to the conservatory with Dale and they found Thomas and Ieuan deep in conversation.

  “But I’m telling you, Thomas, the new model is nothing like the last one. It’s a complete upgrade, to a standard that’s never been seen before.”

  “That may well be, but they could always find faults further down the line.” Thomas shook his head. “You’re better off sticking with something you can trust.”

  “I disagree. You’ve had your Land Rover for what… three years now? It’s ludicrous keeping a vehicle for that long.”

  “It’s hardly lost any value at all and it won’t depreciate much further. They’re sturdy, built to last.” Thomas thumped his knee as if to hammer the point home.

  Thomas and Ieuan both looked more like their mother than their father, yet they were as tall and broad as Dale. Family photographs adorned virtually every surface in the Treharne house, evidence of how much Glenda doted on her boys. They’d matured from cute babies into awkward kids then handsome men, although Lucie thought Dale was the most attractive brother. But then she was biased.

  “Hello, brothers!” Dale announced as he parked himself next to Ieuan on the sofa. “And how are you both?”

  “Good, thanks. Hey, Lucie!” Thomas waved a hand; Ieuan nodded at her and offered a warm smile.

  “Hi.” Lucie took one of the wicker chairs. “Helen not with you?”

  “Upstairs.” Thomas pointed at the ceiling. “Speaking to the boys about manners.”