by A. E. Radley
“Nope,” Kit said on an outbreath. “Never mind all that, I was ringing to suggest I take a break in the search for Pinky.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Shannon agreed.
“After the holidays I’ll talk to Steve again and try to get the contact details for the woman he dated. Not that she sounded like the thieving type from what Steve said, but you never know who has a kleptomaniac streak deep down.”
“Fair enough. To be honest, Rachel seems in a bit of a better mood. Maybe she’s been distracted by all the holidays?”
“Could be. Either way, we’ll get her favourite toy back after the holidays. Who knows, maybe Santa will bring it to her?”
Shannon scoffed. “I should hope not considering we’re celebrating Christmas with both our families.”
“Wow, sounds intense.”
“It is. It’ll be fun but crowded. It was actually my mum’s idea, she’s always been a bit uptight about the fact that I’m gay. So it's nice that she invited Rachel and her whole family for Christmas this year.”
“Yeah! That’s brilliant. I hope you’ll have a lovely time and if I don’t see you before then, Merry Christmas.”
“I’m sure we’ll see you around but yeah, Merry Christmas!”
Kit said goodbye and hung up. Realising that she didn’t ask if it was okay for her to tell Laura about Pinky. That could wait.
Guided by her stomach, Kit headed for the café where she used to have lunch with Laura back when they were just friends.
She ordered a panini and a cup of tea and sat down. Her phone rang and tingles coursed through Kit when she saw Laura's name on the screen.
“Hey baby! Thanks for calling back.”
“Hi, sorry I don’t have long to talk. Obviously. I mean what else is new?”
Kit hummed in agreement.
“But,” Laura continued. “I wanted to quickly check in, while scoffing a huge slice of the yule log Tim brought for the office.”
“Yum!”
“Yes. I think he feels guilty because he and the other employees haven’t pitched in much lately. He said something about realising that even though I don’t have kids I might still need to prepare for Christmas.”
“That was nice of him,” Kit muttered.
“His heart’s in the right place. And this log is amazing. I’m rather sure my fat bottom agrees and that it’s going to store the chocolatey goodness as insulating padding against these December winds.”
“Laura, we’ve been over this, you’re not fat. Curvy or at the most chubby. If you want a good descriptor though, I’d go with ‘perfect’. Nevertheless, when all the stress is done you do need to go back to eating healthier food. With a vitamin or two.”
“Tell you what, when things ease up I can go back to meeting you for lunch at Tea Gage, which I can hear you’re at right now. I know the sound of that bell above the door.”
“Yep, some of us are having a proper lunch. If I hitchhike up to the Gage Farm office I could bring you a sandwich and a cup of that frothy-vanilla-frappe-unicorn-foam you call coffee?”
Laura sighed. “Thank you but the Stevensons’ are arriving for a meeting in twenty minutes regarding the logo. I don’t think they’ll be happy to wait while I feast on sandwiches and the sight of a certain black-haired, pink-cheeked, blue-eyed beauty.”
Kit squirmed and tried not to smile. “Aw, shucks. Well, stuff your face with that yule log and try to at least hydrate properly. Oh and good luck with the Stevensons. Call me tonight?”
“I will. If it starts to get late and you haven’t heard from me, please call me instead.”
“Will do. I love you. Bye.”
Just as Kit hung up, someone sat down at her table and roared, “You!”
Kit counted to ten in her head at the sight of Mabel Baxter. The island’s most known grammar-enthusiast and complainer was currently pointing at Kit and scowling under her knitted hat.
“Hello Mrs Baxter.’
Mable ignored the greeting. “Ethel informs me that you’re lonely and therefore can’t get into the Christmas spirit. Well, young lady, I’m here to tell you that I have been a widow for over ten years. Most of my friends are dead and my family are all fools. The only person I have in my life is Ethel, who obviously celebrates Hanukkah. Christmas is not a good time for me. Do you know what I did about that?”
Kit sat straighter, as always feeling like a schoolgirl being told off when Mabel was around. “No?”
“I celebrate Hanukkah with Ethel and her son. Not because I’ve converted but because in the end, it’s not about the Christmas tree, the turkey, or even the presents. It’s about you and the people you care about making a toast to having survived yet another year.”
Kit cleared her throat. “Well, I would do that but I’m not in contact with my mum, my dad is abroad, my best friend is celebrating on the mainland with her boyfriend’s family, and my girlfriend doesn’t even have time for lunch with me.”
“Phah. Those aren’t the only people in the world.”
“Are you suggesting I come celebrate Hanukkah with you and Mrs Rosenthal? I will if it means finally getting to see what you look like under that hat,” Kit said.
“Are you being facetious? Never mind, I don’t care. I simply came by to tell you to stop pitying yourself and to look around. You’ve made friends and acquaintances here. Ask them to spend the holidays with you. You don’t need to find ‘holiday cheer’, you only need some company. And possibly a dry sherry to ward off the cold. Now eat and then get back to work.”
With that, Mabel stood up and left.
Kit was left gaping at the door. Then, she did it was as he was told and got back to her lunch. All while wondering if maybe she should ask Rachel and Shannon, or Josh and Matt, if she could spend Christmas with them.
CHRISTMAS IS COMING. YOU CAN’T HIDE!
24th December thudded down at Kit’s feet like a rain-soaked package through the letterbox.
The only highlight was a flurry of Christmas treats being dropped off throughout the day. Kit had been handed batches of home-made mince pies, tins of gingerbread, two Christmas puddings and a box of chocolates from library regulars. One of the good thing about Greengage’s ageing population – most of them they liked to bake and give away their baked goods.
When the library’s closing procedures were taken care of, Rajesh held out his big hands. “I’ll take the chocolates, Katherine. I’m going to spend the next few days catching up on my reading and could use the nibbles. You take all the fruity, spicy thingamabobs.”
“Sure,” Kit mumbled while stuffing gingerbread, mince pies, and the Christmas puddings into her rucksack and a plastic bag.
They parted with little fanfare, Rajesh going home to Phyllis and Kit popping into Steve’s off licence for some pouring cream to go with the mince pies and the puddings. At the last minute she also picked up a bottle labelled as ‘winter spiced brandy’.
Then she trudged through town and up the big hill until she could see Howard Hall and knew she was minutes away from her little cottage. She’d go in, light those scented Christmas candles, break open the Gage Farm mulled wine again and finish the bottle. Then she could take a page out of Rajesh’s book and catch up on some reading. She’d picked up a compilation of woman-loving-woman Winter Holiday stories and it was waiting for her on her Kindle.
Then I’ll call Aimee and guilt trip her for leaving me alone on Christmas. No, that’s not fair. She’s got her own life on the mainland.
She could however call to check how Aimee and little George were doing and if she should ring them tomorrow to wish them a Merry Christmas.
She fished out her phone and located Aimee’s number in her ‘recent calls’ log.
“Hey muppet,” Aimee replied after the first ring.
“Hey rude person. You all right?”
Aimee hummed. “Ups and downs over here. An ‘up’ is that our Christmas tree is bloody smashing this year! Oh, wait, George is pulling on my trouser leg. W
anna say something to your godmother, sweetie?”
Kit heard scuffling as the phone was obviously handed over to the toddler.
A small voice coughed and then said, “Hi. What?”
Kit knew that ‘what?’ was George speak for ‘guess what’. Missing her best friend and this little bloke squeezed Kit’s heart. “I’ve got no idea. Tell me.”
“I drawn dinosaur. On wall.”
Kit heard Aimee gasp in the background and thudding steps as she probably ran around checking the walls.
Trying not to laugh, Kit replied. “You’re not allowed to do that, mate. Mummy is not going to be happy. I’d start looking very cute right about now if I were you.”
“I cute all time.”
“True. But you might want to ramp it up, sweetheart.”
Thudding steps as Aimee obviously returned. “George. Give me the phone and do not move, young man!”
Kit waited as she was once more handed over.
“Hi again. I’m going to have to go,” Aimee whinged. “I need to have a chat with George. And then scrub a wall,” she groaned, “Or possibly repaint a wall.”
“Right. I’ll leave you to it. One thing before I do, though.”
“Sure, shoot.”
Kit rubbed the back of her neck. “Um, well, tomorrow’s Christmas, right.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you… think you might have time to ring me then?”
A moment of silence.
“Aw, love,” Aimee said with a voice full of sympathy. “I promise you we’ll talk tomorrow.”
The vice-grip around Kit’s heart loosened. “Great. Talk then. And good luck with the clean-up.”
Aimee said goodbye and hung up.
Kit was left with only her Santa gnome for company. “Well, beardy. Now it’s you, me, a bottle of the best mulled wine on the island and some good reading material. Oh and twenty thousand mince pies baked by every Greengager over fifty. Better get cracking!”
Her phone vibrated, revealing a text from Laura.
Hello dearest,
Something’s wrong with the plumbing at Howard Hall. I’m trying to get a plumber who’ll work today. Tom took a last-minute trip to London. Says he’ll stay until the plumbing is fixed. I doubt I’ll come over to yours tonight and I wouldn’t recommend you come over here until I have this fixed. After I find a plumber I’m going back to the office to see if I can clear off some paperwork so I can take time off tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted. I love you! Merry Christmas in advance.
Kit replied that she was sorry about the plumbing, lamenting the loss of their time together and reassuring Laura that she’d be here and available whenever.
She had a long bath while drinking her first glass of mulled wine, then she got into her robe, got comfy on the sofa with her book and munched on a couple of cold mince pies. When dinner came around, she had finished the book and was now sadder than ever. All those cute stories with women spending the holidays with the lady they loved. She ate a Christmas pudding for dinner just out of spite. It was an appropriate side dish to her bitterness, loneliness and self-pity.
It was a quarter to nine and Kit was still sitting on the sofa, warm in her fluffy robe and slippers in the shape of flamingos. By now she was also tipsy and queasy from only eating sugary treats. The telly was on and she was trying to watch it without nodding off when the doorbell went.
Kit rubbed her face.
I bet that’s Mabel Baxter come here to tell me off for not having crashed someone’s Christmas party.
She closed her robe tight to not scare off her visitor with her boobs. Or her tired-depressed-and-no-sun-for-months pale skin.
When she opened the door, there was barely time to see who was on the other side since she was immediately assaulted with a huge hug.
Kit pushed her visitor away to greet her.
“Aimee! What the hell are you doing here?”
“First of all, is that how you greet friends who travelled during a holiday to this godforsaken island to see you? Secondly, why do you have flamingos on your feet? Thirdly, don’t curse in front of my superb offspring, the Prince of Wall Painting.”
Kit bent down, picked George up and kissed his cold cheeks as she spun him round. He squealed between giggles.
Aimee laughed. “Can you two get out of the doorway and let me in? I’m freezing my ars…I mean bottom… off here.”
Kit moved aside, still clinging on to George as if he mighty vanish if she let him go. “Of course. Hurry in! Blimey, I missed you two!”
“We missed you too,” Aimee said while lugging two big bags inside.
Kit took in the bags and the red, puffy eyes of her friend. She put George down and said, “But, missing me isn’t the only reason why you’re here, is it? Shouldn’t you be with Mr Right?”
“Nope. He was Mr Wrong,” Aimee said with a feeble attempt at a smile. Then she crouched, opened a bag and took out a bucket of Duplo. “George? Why don’t you play with this for a while? Kit and I are going to pop into the kitchen for a chat.”
He accepted the Duplo with open arms. “Yes!”
“Don’t get too excited, though,” Aimee warned. “It’s way past your bedtime so you’ll have to get to sleep soon.”
“Okay mummy.”
Kit followed Aimee into the cottage’s small kitchen. They were barely out of George’s earshot before Aimee whispered, “I caught Carl telling George off for the wall painting.”
“Okay? Is that a bad thing?”
“Not if he’d done it in a normal way. A non-screaming way. I’d already talked to George earlier and made him understand that it was wrong and denied him dessert as a punishment. George got it and has been an angel ever since. There was no need to shout at him for twenty minutes.” Aimee pulled her hand through her long, black tresses. “He really frightened George. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time. I’ve had to talk to Carl on several occasions about not disciplining George so hard and certainly not doing it without talking to me about it first.”
“Seems like he didn’t listen.”
“Exactly. Yesterday’s shout fest was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It doesn’t matter how much I like a guy, if he frightens my son and upsets him needlessly – I’m dumping him.”
“So, no Christmas with Carl’s family?”
“Nope. Meaning that we were free to come to see you! Which, let’s be honest, will be a hell of a lot more fun. Mind if we stay for a couple of days?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I don’t bloody mind, love! I mean, I would’ve liked to know first but hey… I don’t mind a surprise if it’s a nice one. I’ll sleep on the sofa and you and George can take the bed.”
“Deal. I know you haven’t been feeling the holiday cheer so I assumed the place would be Christmas free and brought a few Santa ornaments to decorate with and some crackers to open. You know, to make it festive for George.”
“Sure!” Kit looked at the fridge. “I do have loads of mince pies, gingerbread, and a Christmas pudding. Complete with pouring cream to be served with it. Also, there’s some holiday themed brandy for you and me. But no turkey or sprouts or anything.”
“That’s okay. George and I mainly like the puddings anyway,” Aimee said cheerfully.
Kit chewed her lower lip. It didn’t feel right not to have a real Christmas with all the trimmings if she was going to have guests. Especially not if one of them was a child who was now celebrating away from home.
Aimee leaned in for a quick hug and said, “I should go get the little builder ready for bed. I’ll be right back and we can break in to that brandy while I sob on your shoulder over my buggered relationship.”
Kit kissed her hair. “It’s a deal, mate. There are clean towels and stuff in the bathroom cupboards. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do,” Aimee said as she went to gather up her son.
Kit stayed in the kitchen, trying to think of ways to arrange a full holiday celebration for her guests.<
br />
For the first time this month, it felt like there was going to be a real Christmas.
And for the first time this month, Kit wasn’t pitying herself.
At least not as long as she didn’t think about Laura’s absence.
Anyway. Maybe a tin of chicken soup can serve as a turkey substitute?
Kit started rummaging around the kitchen with new energy.
CHRISTMAS DAY KISSES
The next morning it happened. 25th of December arrived right when the calendar said it should. Christmas day’s arrival was heralded by George jumping up on Kit’s stomach to give her his usual rousing - a wet kiss on the nose.
Kit pushed her slight hangover aside and gave him a cuddle. “Ah! I missed those morning nose kisses of yours, Georgie. Merry Christmas. You sleep okay?”
He nodded while patting her head. “Yes. Your hair is all up. Comb it.”
“I will, mate. I need to wake up first, though. Is your mum awake?”
Another nod. “Shower.”
“Good. Let’s get some tea and toast on the go.”
“Present?”
“Nope, no Christmas gifts yet, mate.”
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. Then he jumped off her to run towards the kitchen.
“Don’t know why you’re rushing, kid. You can’t reach the kettle or the toaster,” Kit muttered as she dragged herself off the sofa. She found herself smiling despite the sleepiness and hangover from the mulled wine and brandy last night.
I’m not alone for Christmas.
She kept her duvet on as a cape as she switched the heating on and then went into the kitchen. While she was filling the kettle, her phone vibrated on the counter. She blinked at the screen and saw a text from Laura.
Good morning my love. And Merry Christmas!
I found a plumber yesterday and he fixed the problem. I think the smell is gone but I can’t tell anymore. Can you come over in a while and check for me?
Kit frowned but texted back that she’d be over when she was dressed and fed, with a quick mention of that Aimee and George had come over for a few days. When she finished the text by saying she loved Laura, the frown was clearly gone as George looked at her and said, “Kit happy?”