A Winter Flame

by Milly Johnson

  Eve noticed how everyone was hanging on his every word. There was an emotion that was binding everyone together here and she didn’t know what it was, she just felt its power, its warm, all-encompassing power and that each and every one clustered around Christopher’s grave had a huge respect for the man now talking.

  ‘But he was a very old boy and any time he had with us was a blessing for him and us both.’ There was a chorus of nose-blowing. ‘It’s all any of us could hope, that we are loved to the last. So goodbye Christopher, old boy. We shall miss you. We wish we could have had you for longer, but we’re just glad we had you at all.’

  During the mumble of ‘goodbye Christophers’ Eve slid to the back of the crowd and slipped away before anyone saw the tears flowing down her cheeks. Jacques’ words were too cutting, too full of meaning. They were as meaningful to her about Jonathan as they were about Christopher. Sometimes she wished she had never met Jonathan, then she wouldn’t have this never-ending pain within now, but then she would have missed the short, sweet, rich firework length of time they had together that lit up her life and altered it for ever. We wish we could have had you for longer, but we’re just glad we had you at all.

  ‘Eve.’ His voice came from behind, his body caught it up. He ran steadily and quickly towards her before stopping at her side. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, covering any loss of composure with a bristling tone. ‘I just have to get back and get on.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to join us because I didn’t think you’d want to be there.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she said. ‘But I felt I should show my face.’

  His arms filled the top of his sleeves. He must work out, she thought. Mind you, if he hadn’t had a job for ages, he had plenty of spare time to beef himself up at a gym, said her head. Surprisingly another voice rose up and snapped, ‘Oh for God’s sake, stop bitching about the man, Eve. Give him some credit.

  ‘I’ll be helping on the snagging list today, you don’t need me in the Portakabin, do you? You’re better at the paperwork than I am anyway; if anything comes up, I’m sure you’ll be fine with it.’

  ‘Well yes, of course I’ll be fine,’ nodded Eve, trying to look brave and efficient and not as if she felt near to crumbling like a packet of Digestives under a steamroller. ‘Are you expecting any calls?’

  ‘I know Pav is going to tell you about his wedding today,’ said Jacques. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say you already knew. Serena will be ringing this afternoon about the final arrangements for the wedding chapel.’

  Eve nodded. Her green eyes held his blue ones, but there was no impish sparkle in them.

  ‘Right,’ she said.

  ‘You know where I am if you want me,’ he said. ‘Effin’s taking the Santapark sign down this morning, so you’ll get your Winterpark one up.’

  ‘Ah, good,’ replied Eve.

  ‘I’ll get on,’ and he turned and ran back to the paddock whilst Eve watched him. He ran in a very masculine way, she decided, confident and assured. He ran as if he had done a lot of it – and seriously. She used to run; Jonathan used to say she was incapable of actually walking anywhere. She had stopped running when he died – one of many things she loved but didn’t do any more. She used to run up hills until she reached the top, breathless and exhilarated, and the air felt sweeter in her lungs for the effort.

  Pav was waiting for her when she reached the Portakabin. She plastered on a wide smile in greeting and prepared to act her socks off.

  ‘Hello there. Thought you were on a day off. Violet not with you?’

  ‘Er, no,’ said Pav. ‘Can I see you for a moment, Eve?’

  ‘Come inside,’ she said, stripping off her gloves as she opened the door into the cosy warmth of the Portakabin. They would be moving into a completed log cabin at the other end of the park any day now, but she doubted it would ever feel as cosy as this little scrappy place, with the grumpy machine making coffee-Tourette’s-type noises.

  ‘Sit down. Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ said Pav, moving the chair back from the table to give himself leg room. Eve tried not to smile. Pav always exuded such lovely, warm, friendly vibes. She was so glad he was marrying her beautiful cousin. Only now did she realize how distraught Violet must have been to think she was losing him, and how happy she must have been to know that she wasn’t.

  ‘Okay, shoot,’ said Eve, trying to keep her grin friendly and professional. Pav stroked his thin line of a black beard nervously.

  ‘I haven’t told you,’ he said, with an apologetic tone, ‘but I have booked the wedding chapel for Violet and myself for Saturday.’

  Here goes, said Eve. Please don’t make me do an Auntie Susan/Meryl Streep.

  ‘This Saturday? The day after tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. I know it is short notice, but if I told anyone sooner, the secret might have leaked out.’

  ‘Wow.’

  That was worse than anything her Auntie could have come out with so she felt duty bound to add more.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to react. I’m presuming she hasn’t a clue? No, of course she hasn’t or she would have said.’

  ‘No, she doesn’t know,’ said Pav. ‘It is a surprise for Violet. Today, I went to see Susan and Bel and Max. Now I come to see you. It’s just a small wedding. In the chapel here.’

  ‘Here? Why here, Pav?’

  He seemed surprised that she asked that. ‘Because Violet loves Christmas so much.’

  ‘Does she?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he smiled. ‘She goes crazy for Christmas. She is like a child.’

  Does she? Again Eve gulped down the realization that she didn’t know that. She knew Violet always enjoyed Christmas – how could she not in Auntie Susan and Uncle Jeff’s cosy house, with the real tree and all the paper decorations which they and Nan Flockton used to make throughout the whole of November. But she didn’t realize that her cousin loved it enough to be married by the Christmas equivalent of Elvis. It seems she didn’t know much about anyone she was supposed to love.

  ‘I don’t want you to do anything. Everything is arranged with Jacques. I just want you to turn up and be the guest and sign the register as witness. Please don’t tell Violet.’

  ‘I’m really happy for you both,’ said Eve with a rush of emotion. ‘I think you’re so good together.’

  ‘I love her with all my heart,’ said Pav. ‘Maybe on Saturday she will believe it finally.’

  After Pav had gone, Eve couldn’t concentrate. There was something circling her brain like an eagle that was distracting her from filing invoices. The eagle wouldn’t go away. The eagle had a whiff of lemon French fancies about it. Eve stopped struggling against it, put on her coat and walked up to the amusement park. The sky was dark and dull, but the bubble of Winterworld was a much more colourful and beautiful place. The snow machines were puffing out flakes which fell softly onto Eve’s shoulders as she walked. Hundreds of colourful lanterns were lighting the forest with their soft glow. It reminded her of Narnia. But it wasn’t the look of the place which was driving her feet forward, it was the feel of it. Something had touched her as she stood at the side of Christopher’s grave with all the people whom her Aunt Evelyn had chosen to work here. They were all united in striving towards the same end – Evelyn’s vision. Only she was pulling in a different way. Only she was standing outside the snow globe of Winterworld, looking in through the glass.

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this, she said to herself as she reached the amusement park.

  Effin’s men were struggling with the huge iron ‘Santa’ part of the sign. He was screaming at them as usual.

  ‘Cocs Cymreig a prics Pwyl – s’dim dianc!’

  ‘He said, “Welsh cocks and pricks from Poland – there’s no escape!”’ translated Arfon for Mik, who then promptly translated it into Polish for his workmates. Eve noticed that one of the Welsh lads was wearing a pair of Christmas
pudding deely-boppers on his head; another had tinsel wrapped around his hard hat. The place was soaked in Christmas and there was no getting away from it.

  ‘Effin, can I have a word?’ said Eve, touching his arm.

  ‘You can have more than one, lovely,’ replied Effin.

  Eve took a big breath.

  ‘Leave the sign as it is, will you?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Winterpark isn’t the right name. Santapark is.’

  Effin tried not to let his top lip pull back over his teeth.

  ‘It’s taken five of them over half an hour to unscrew it.’ Then he added a respectful, ‘Missus.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry. But I’ve had a change of heart.’

  Effin sighed through gritted teeth. ‘’Course. You’re the boss, so if that’s what you want . . . Oy,’ and he shouted up at the men on the scaffolding. ‘Don’t bloody take that down, leave it up. Screw it back in. And don’t take half as long putting it up as you did taking it down, you lazy bastards.’

  There was a chorus of protesting groans in response, which set Effin back into paroxysms.

  Eve took a few steps backwards to watch the spectacle of the sign being replaced, and crashed into Jacques. ‘Sorry,’ she apologized.

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘I didn’t see you,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t mean bump into me, I meant keep the sign.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Eve, and meant it. ‘It just felt right. I don’t like that I like it. But if we strip all the Christmas references away from the park, I think we’d be doing the wrong thing. I’ll admit it, okay?’

  Jacques crossed his arms and she noticed there was a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Ordinarily this would have make her hackles rise, but that smirk told her the ice was thawing between them and it was more than she deserved.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘It’s finding you, isn’t it? The Christmas spirit of this place.’

  ‘Don’t talk bollocks,’ she replied.

  ‘Come in with us, Eve. The water’s lovely.’

  ‘How are the honeymoon cabins coming along?’ she said with a sniff, changing the subject completely and trying to hide the shake in her voice. ‘Do I need to check them? I’m presuming one of them will be used on Saturday night?’

  ‘All finished,’ he said. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’ And he threaded his arm inside hers and walked her forward, almost lifting her in the air as he did so. And though she made huffs of protestation, she didn’t resist him physically. She thought she had disliked his ridiculously flirty attentions, but to be stonewalled by him was worse.

  The first cabin door they came to was open as one of the interior designers was steaming the curtains.

  ‘They’re all more or less the same, give or take little touches. They’re just getting this ready for Violet and Pav.’ He addressed the lady inside. ‘Okay to come in?’

  ‘Yes, sure.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Eve stepping through the doorway. ‘How have they managed to do all this in such a short time?’ The cabin was a snuggery of sofas and carpets. There was a tiny wood-burning stove in a large inglenook fireplace, just the thing for a couple to cuddle up in front of; a short run of kitchen units and a bathroom beyond, with a very roomy bath and shower – obviously meant for more than one and no more than two. An open staircase led to a room with a very bouncy-looking bed taking up most of it.

  ‘Nice, isn’t it?’ said Jacques. ‘The designers are all widows of soldiers and set up in business together.’

  The military again, thought Eve. It kept cropping up in one form or another.

  ‘How did Aunt Evelyn find all these people?’ said Eve.

  ‘She just did,’ shrugged Jacques.

  ‘I’m presuming all the elves she found weren’t on active duty in Toytown?’

  Jacques laughed. It was the first time in ages she had heard him laugh and it was a ridiculously welcome sound to her ears.

  ‘I think they might have been,’ he said, turning his eyes onto her and studying her with a tender intensity, which she found uncomfortable. She turned around and looked at one of the watercolour pictures of a snow scene on the wall.

  ‘Everyone has done such a great job,’ she said, preparing to admit more. ‘I’m not sure the people I would have set on would have done as well.’

  ‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ he said. ‘They’ve done a perfect job – right from the big rug in front of the fire to the big bouncy bed upstairs.’ And she waited for him to make some crack about testing out the big bed upstairs, but he didn’t. And she felt herself bristle more that he didn’t, than if he had.

  ‘Pav didn’t twig that I knew,’ said Eve.

  ‘Good,’ said Jacques. ‘We don’t have to hang onto the secret for much longer. They’re a lovely couple.’

  ‘Right then, back to the grindstone,’ said Eve, clapping her hands together and heading for the door. She didn’t notice – but Jacques did – that she walked off in the direction of the Portakabin with a spring in her step.

  DECEMBER

  Chapter 43

  The night before her big day, Violet tried not to bubble over with excitement. Pav cooked tea – her favourite, his spicy polish dumplings – which she usually wolfed down, but she was too full of nervous excitement to have much of an appetite.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her, trying to coax her into eating another. ‘You never usually leave any.’

  ‘I had a big slice of cake with Eve earlier on,’ Violet lied.

  Pav did a rubbish act of an exaggerated yawn. It was on par with her mother’s acting skills.

  ‘I’m so tired. I think tonight, I will have an early night,’ he said. He leaned over and stroked her cheek. ‘You look happier these past few days. I have been worried about you, my love.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be,’ Violet smiled. ‘I was panicking that we wouldn’t be able to run both parlours. I got myself into a pickle about it.’

  ‘You should have told me,’ he said, and wrapped his big arms around her and squashed her into his strong chest. ‘You shouldn’t keep things from me.’

  Violet wanted to giggle. That was rich.

  ‘I’ll have a quick bath and then join you,’ she said. ‘Warm the bed up for me.’

  In the bath, Violet tried to shave her legs, exfoliate and super-condition her hair as quickly as possible. As she went into the bedroom she noticed that the big suitcase, which was usually on top of the wardrobe, wasn’t there. And when she opened her underwear drawer, a few of her best knickers had vanished as well. Oh God. He must have packed them a case to go away. She was a little horrified that he had gone through her underwear. Still, she had to keep schtum. Pav had obviously put so much work into the wedding that she couldn’t and didn’t want to spoil any of it for him.

  She went to bed and pretended to fall asleep with his arm looped around her. The last thing she remembered thinking was that she would never drift off, then the alarm clock was waking her up and she felt Pav spring out of bed as if he had an ejector seat hidden in his part of the mattress. He might have been composed up to this point, but he was twittery now.

  ‘Are you okay?’ said Violet, rubbing her eyes. ‘It usually takes you ages to get up. At least three snoozes.’ She wanted to giggle very badly.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said, disappearing off to the shower. She smiled as she thought about the day to come. That someone loved her enough to surprise her like this was magical. Many people wouldn’t have liked not to know that by the end of the day they would be married, but Violet wasn’t one of them. She had gone down the traditional, heavily planned route with her last fiancé and this – wonderfully – was about as far away from that as she could get. She had underestimated how much he wanted her to marry him. She had been stupid to think that true love would be put off by a piddly little barrier of nine years.

  ‘I think I’ll have a shower to war
m me up,’ said Violet, pretending to shiver as Pav walked into the bedroom beautifully naked. He had such a gorgeous body. It wasn’t marred at all by the long scar on his chest which the dark hair worked to cover. ‘It’s a chilly one today.’

  This is the last shower I’ll have as a ‘miss’, she said to herself, as the water cascaded down onto her body.

  Pav had made her a coffee and some toast, as he always did. He was chewing on it but he didn’t look hungry, he looked nervous, and Violet really had to pretend she didn’t notice anything. This is the last piece of toast I’ll have as a ‘miss’, she said to herself.

  Then Pav’s mobile rang. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Yes, this is Pav.’

  Oh God, more Susan Flockton/Meryl Streep acting, thought Violet.

  ‘Yes, Jacques, of course I can pick this up for you. No problems.’ He turned to Violet whilst clicking the phone shut. ‘I have to pick up a box of something for Jacques before work.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Violet asked mischievously.

  ‘No, no, it’s fine,’ he said hurriedly. ‘You go to Winterworld and I will see you very soon.’

  ‘How will you get there if I’ve got the car?’ asked Violet.

  ‘Ah. I’ll take the car and I will order a taxi for you. You wait until it arrives.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Violet. ‘I’ll just go and clean my teeth and see you later.’

  Upstairs in the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and looked at herself in her Nan’s old wall mirror. This is the last time I’ll see my face in this mirror as Miss Violet Flockton, she said to herself, and blew a kiss upwards to her nan. She felt so happy, she was in danger of bursting like a balloon, one which would spray the world with tiny little love hearts and snowflakes.

  Chapter 44