The Mistletoe Pact: A totally perfect Christmas romantic comedy

by Lovett, Jo

  Twenty-Nine

  Now – August 2022

  Dan

  Fair enough.

  Dan smiled at Evie and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  She was absolutely right to have broken the moment. What had they been thinking?

  It was utterly ridiculous how deflated he felt.

  She smiled back at him.

  Yeah. Move on.

  ‘There’s a pheasant,’ he said, pointing. ‘Lot of them around at this time of year.’

  After, really, a long nature conversation, they moved on to other topics, until it was like the near-kiss hadn’t happened and things were back to normal, except for the fact that thoughts about Dan’s father – and how much he liked Evie and how much he’d stupidly missed the boat because now she was going out with Matthew – were bubbling at the back of his mind. If he was honest, he’d also missed the boat because he’d been too scared, of having a disastrous relationship like his parents and of losing Evie’s friendship completely and both of them getting hurt. Anyway, academic now; she was with Matthew.

  ‘That was a lovely walk,’ said Evie as they rounded the corner near the church onto the path round the green.

  ‘It was.’ He wanted to say that they should do it again sometime, but he wasn’t sure how to word it. In case it sounded like a date or something. ‘I think I’m going to text my father and suggest meeting up. Somewhere neutral. Not at his place. I’ll let you know how it goes.’

  ‘Good luck.’ Evie smiled at him. ‘I’ll be thinking of you.’

  ‘Bye then,’ he said. Hug? Air-kiss?

  Evie said, ‘Bye,’ and gave him another one of her smiles and started walking off round her side of the green. Stupidly, he felt bereft now, like he didn’t want to go home.

  Okay. He was going to text his father now, as he walked back round to the house. It felt like he’d promised Evie that he’d do it.

  The reply came straight after he’d got inside the front door. It smelled as though his mother was making a beef stew. Loudly: there was a lot of clattering from the kitchen.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, putting his head round the kitchen door. ‘How’s your afternoon been?’ His mother was loading the dishwasher. ‘Let me do that,’ he said, ‘while you put your feet up for a minute. Can I make you a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, no, no,’ his mother said, batting him away from the dirty dishes. ‘You work such long hours and you’re here for a holiday. You sit down and I’ll make the tea.’

  ‘You’ve twisted my arm,’ Dan said, smiling at her. There was no way he could read the text from his father when he was in the house with his mother; he’d feel like he was betraying her.

  His mother popped out a couple of hours later to drop some home-made jam with Mrs Bird and a couple of other villagers. Dan waited until the coast was clear and then pulled his phone out. God, this felt awful. He was totally going behind his mother’s back. It would actually have felt less like a betrayal if he hadn’t waited until she’d had gone out.

  Okay. His father was suggesting meeting tomorrow morning for a coffee in Cirencester.

  What Dan wanted to do now was call Evie and ask her if he should go.

  But since he was thirty-three years old and he and Evie were just friends who saw each other occasionally, that would be an odd thing to do.

  So what was he going to do?

  He was going to go. He was just going to go and meet his father.

  * * *

  ‘Hi, Dan.’ Dan’s father had arrived before him at their meeting place in Cirencester and he was standing outside looking unusually unsure of himself, his smile a little tentative and his voice not that confident-sounding. Like a shadow of himself. Had the prospect of meeting Dan done this to him?

  ‘Hello.’ What now? Should they shake hands? What would they have done in the past, when they were still speaking? Dan realised with a jolt that he didn’t know, because he’d been holding his father at a distance ever since he first realised that he was having an affair, half a lifetime ago, when Dan was sixteen. ‘How are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m well, thank you. You?’

  ‘Yep, great, thanks. Shall we go inside?’

  When they were seated at a table in the corner of the café – café was the wrong word; it was a very fancy tea room, of course, because his father had suggested it and he liked fancy places – his father said, still sounding like a muted version of his normal bombastic self, ‘I was very pleased to hear from you.’

  ‘I thought it would be good to talk,’ Dan said. He’d spent all evening yesterday, eating dinner with his mother and some of her friends, knowing that he should prepare something to say today, and not doing it, because it had just felt too hard. So now he was floundering. What a muppet.

  His father waited and then said, ‘About anything in particular?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dan. ‘I think so.’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled at the waiter who was hovering a few feet away. The waiter stepped forward and handed menus to them and then melted away. Dan opened his menu and blinked at the array of different teas on offer. He looked up at his father. They hadn’t been on their own together like this for years and Dan never studied him closely nowadays. His father was actually showing his age physically. His face was pretty lined and his hair was completely grey now. Dan had a sudden wave of memory of maybe the last time they’d sat together like this, just the two of them. His dad had taken him out for dinner to a smart restaurant in Cheltenham a few days after he’d finished his GCSEs. That had been a great evening. ‘I think I miss you,’ he said.

  His father nodded, very slowly. ‘I know that I miss you,’ he said.

  Dan looked back at his menu. What now? Where were they going to go with this conversation? He gestured at the page in front of him. ‘That’s a lot of teas,’ he said. ‘I’m more of a plain English breakfast man.’

  His father smiled at him. ‘You never liked a lot of fuss. Like your mother, I suppose. Sasha would be the one who took after me with a liking for fancier things.’

  Dan couldn’t smile back. How dare he just talk about Dan’s mother like that? In fact, why didn’t he just ask him that question? Otherwise what was the point of being here? ‘Do you not feel bad, talking about Mum so casually? You betrayed her. You betrayed all of us.’

  His father’s head shot up and he looked Dan right in the eye. Then he looked down again.

  ‘Yes, I do feel bad,’ he said. ‘I made a choice and it hurt a lot of people.’

  ‘Was it the right choice?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  Dan looked down. He was holding the menu very tightly.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked.

  His father pursed his lips and then twisted them. ‘I damaged my relationship with all of my children. And I feel that that probably damaged you. And children only get one father, whereas most people get more than one shot at love.’

  ‘From where I was standing, it looked like you took a lot of shots at love,’ Dan said. Maybe that had been rude, but it felt like his mother had only had the one shot. Dan was pretty sure that more than one man had been interested in her since his father left, and she kept them all at arm’s length. ‘And I think you destroyed something in Mum, as well as in me.’

  His father nodded. ‘I’d like to apologise,’ he said, ‘if that’s possible.’

  ‘Is it? Would you do the same again?’

  His father pressed two fingers to his forehead for a moment. ‘Now, looking back, I don’t know. Your mother and I… we didn’t have the best relationship. All my doing. I think therefore that by staying I’d have destroyed my relationship with you no matter what. I should really have left when you were all little, so that you didn’t witness the deterioration of our marriage. I can never regret marrying your mother, of course, because we created four wonderful children together.’

  ‘Right.’ Dan suddenly really wanted just to leave. He stood up and pulled his wallet out of his pocket and put a twenty-pound note on the
table. ‘For our tea,’ he said. ‘I have to go. Thank you for meeting me.’

  ‘We didn’t even order,’ his father said to his back. ‘And I wanted to pay.’

  Dan didn’t turn round as he left.

  He should have stayed. He should absolutely have stayed. Dan indicated left and pulled the car into a gateway in the narrow lane and took his phone out of his pocket. He sent one text to his father apologising for leaving so abruptly and thanking him for his time. And then he sent another to Evie to see if she was around to meet for a quick drink at some point today because he really needed to talk and she was the only person who knew about this.

  * * *

  ‘Hey, Evie.’ Dan stood up as she walked over from the door to where he’d nabbed the sofa next to the pub’s open fire. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet.’

  ‘It’s lovely to see you.’ She smiled at him and started to unwind a scarf – a different one from the one that she’d been wearing yesterday – from round her neck. God, this was ridiculous. Due to the direction his mind was taking, watching a woman wearing a jacket over jeans and boots take a scarf off was feeling like he’d ventured into a strip club. How could scarf removal seem erotic?

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Just a lime and soda would be lovely. The party I’m going to this evening is a gin cocktail one, and I’m a bit of a lightweight nowadays…’ She coughed and Dan tried to keep his face completely emotionless despite a wave of memories of Evie under the influence of cocktails washing over him. ‘So I’m not going to drink now.’

  ‘Very wise,’ he said. ‘Lime and soda it is.’ He wandered over to the bar, astonished by how much he wanted to turn back round and drink in the sight of Evie arranging herself on the sofa.

  When he was back at the fire with the drinks, he put hers on her side of the table in front of them and sat himself on the opposite end of the sofa from her, angling himself so that they could talk comfortably. This was awkward. It didn’t normally take this much brain power trying to work out how to sit next to but not too close to someone.

  ‘Not sure why I didn’t just choose a table,’ he said. ‘Much easier to reach the drinks.’

  ‘You know Sasha and I used to come here really early in the evenings – late afternoon really – just so that we could get this sofa? It’s the best seat in the best pub,’ she said. ‘And here you are, dissing it, like one of the tables over there might be better. Honestly. No respect.’

  Dan laughed and took a sip of his beer.

  ‘So you said you met your dad? How did it go?’ Evie sipped her own drink.

  ‘Basically, he apologised for having messed up and having left but said, I think, that he never loved my mother so it would always have been awful and his biggest mistake was not leaving her earlier but he’s glad he married her because of us.’

  ‘Wow. That’s quite honest. What did you say? And how do you feel?’

  ‘I’m not sure how it made me feel. Not great. I walked out before we’d even had a drink and then I regretted it. Imagining being in his position, I suppose you can sympathise with realising that you’d married the wrong person. But I don’t think staying and having a lot of affairs was the right thing to do. I think that was cowardly and it hurt a lot of people. He should have left as soon as he realised. Which he did admit, to be fair.’

  ‘I suppose things probably aren’t straightforward in practice. He probably hadn’t realised that he’d fallen out of love with your mum before Lucie came along. And then a lot of people find things tricky when they have young children, don’t they? And you can see why someone would feel too guilty or confused or whatever to leave a family with young kids.’

  Dan nodded. ‘Yeah, maybe I do kind of get that. It’s harder to understand or forgive the affairs, though. Those were a choice. Falling in or out of love isn’t.’ Their gazes held for a long time, too long.

  Eventually, Evie visibly swallowed and said, ‘Adult relationships are different from parent-child ones, though. If it would be the right thing for you, I think your mum would want you to start seeing him again.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Dan thought about Katie and how he hoped beyond hope that she’d have good memories with both her parents as a child, and about Evie and how she’d never had the opportunity to meet her father. His father was an arse but he was his father. ‘I might stay in touch with him.’

  ‘Sounds like a good plan. For your sake as well as his. And, for what it’s worth, there are far worse fathers than him. Jack can’t even be bothered to pitch up for the textbook biggies, like Autumn’s birthdays and Christmases.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you’ve never had a dad around.’

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine. My mum was and is always amazing. And this is about you and your dad, and I think you have to focus on the positives.’

  ‘Yep. I’m thinking about birthdays now. I remember this one time when he took us camping for Max’s birthday and we all thought it was the most amazing thing ever. Max and I were literally high-fiving. He nearly always made it home early for our birthdays. In retrospect, he must have blocked his diary out a long time in advance.’

  ‘You know what I think,’ Evie said. ‘Maybe see your dad again, maybe don’t, but do talk to Max about what you told me at the wedding. Sounds to me like a lot of your good childhood memories involve him.’

  ‘That does sound quite wise again.’

  ‘It is. As you know I’m exceptionally wise.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe I will talk to him.’ Maybe he would. ‘Okay, enough about me. Talk me through what a wise woman’s cocktail plans for the evening are.’

  What felt like a very short time later, Evie checked her phone and said, ‘Oh my goodness. I’d better go. I’m going to be late. I need to get ready.’

  ‘You already look ready to me,’ Dan said. He frowned and laughed. ‘Sorry, that sounded ridiculous. I meant you look nice.’ Nice. That was far too lukewarm for how Evie looked, which was gorgeous, frankly, whatever she was wearing.

  ‘Well, thank you,’ Evie said, ‘but I really don’t look cocktail-party-ready. I need to pull some kind of miracle out of the bag in the next half hour.’

  ‘I think you look lovely,’ said Dan, standing up.

  ‘Oh my God—’ Evie stood up too and started with her scarf arranging ‘—I sounded like I was fishing for compliments. I really wasn’t.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. And it wasn’t a compliment, it was a fact. Come on. I’ll walk round your side of the green with you.’

  When they got to Evie’s mum’s house, Dan really didn’t want to say goodbye.

  ‘I’d better go inside and get on with glamming myself up,’ Evie said, rooting around inside her bag for her key. ‘Found it.’ She looked up at him and smiled. Dan swallowed. He loved the shape of her lips. ‘So, bye then.’

  ‘Bye.’ He really wanted to ask if she’d like to meet up in London. Except she had a boyfriend and it would maybe sound odd. ‘Hopefully see you sometime soon.’

  ‘Yes, hopefully,’ she said. ‘Good luck when you speak to your dad again.’ And then she whisked herself inside, and Dan had the strangest feeling that his fairy godmother had just disappeared in a puff of smoke. Though he doubted Cinderella had ever wanted to kiss her fairy godmother to high heaven.

  God, he wished Matthew didn’t exist.

  * * *

  A week later, back in London, Dan was in a pub in Islington with Max, just the two of them, and he was wondering whether Evie was actually wise or whether this was going to have turned out to have been a big mistake.

  ‘Thanks,’ Max said when Dan, back from the bar, put his beer down in front of him. Dan sat down on the stool opposite Max’s, and Max raised his glass and said, ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers.’ Dan took a long sip.

  ‘So you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘So, fire ahead?’

  ‘Okay.’ Dan took another long sip and then said,
‘I wanted to apologise again, as adults, about the accident.’

  ‘What?’ Max was just staring at him.

  After a few seconds, Dan couldn’t take the silence any more. He drank some more beer and then looked around at the bar. Maybe he should go and buy some crisps or something. Or just leave.

  ‘Why are you apologising now?’ Max asked, just as Dan was on the brink of standing up. ‘It was so many years ago and you apologised then, a lot, and it wasn’t your fault, so actually there was never any need for any apology.’

  ‘It was my fault.’ Dan partially relaxed back down onto his stool. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Seriously. It wasn’t your fault. It could have been either of us. We were both a bit pissed and we were half-fighting. And I’m cool about it now. It was half a lifetime ago. I’m happy now. You can’t regret stuff that happened in the past if you’re happy where you are now, can you? It all contributed to getting to that happy place. I can’t actually believe you’ve brought this up now. Has this been eating away at you?’

  ‘No,’ Dan said. ‘I mean, maybe a little.’

  ‘God, Dan. God. Is this why I’ve always felt that you’ve kept me a little at arm’s length? I thought you were just really busy with work, or it was something to do with Dad.’

  Dan shook his head. And then nodded.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Max had spoken so loudly that the people at the nearest tables turned round to look at them. Max ignored them. ‘I wish we’d had this conversation a long time ago. Just for the record, I properly love my life now. I’ve met the man of my dreams, not to sound too vomit-worthy, and we’re getting married. I have a great job, which I might not have if I hadn’t had the accident when I did. And I swerved a lot of pressure. I mean, I saw some of my friends develop real mental health issues from the whole selection thing. Constant stress. Like, even if you make it to the GB squad, do you make it to the Olympics, for example? And, if you do, what are the chances of you actually winning? As it is, I never failed at anything. I went out at the top of my game. Who knows, I might have peaked five minutes later and been dropped. Obviously I wasn’t happy in the immediate aftermath, but I was never angry with you, and, you know, you have to be able to make the best of any given situation. I’m really happy with my life.’