by Lucy Coleman
Our eyes lock for a few seconds as her words sink in. The thought of a life without Gray is unimaginable and that’s what scares me.
‘You’re right, of course you are. I guess I just needed reminding of that. I’ve been constantly on the go and I think the tiredness has gotten to me. Rona’s on the mend, but there are things that still need to be sorted out between her and Gray. I didn’t want to add to his worries, I suppose, so thank you for listening, Valerie. And for your advice – it means a lot. Tollie isn’t good with the emotional stuff and it’s hard without Grandma around to talk some sense into me when I need it.’
‘My point, precisely. We each have our own strengths and weaknesses, but teamwork always wins the day. Now, come on. We have two hungry men waiting and, believe me, they’ll eat anything we present them with.’ Her words make me laugh, because I know that’s the truth and it’s time to stop making pathetic excuses.
It doesn’t take long to heat up the oven, make up a mix of pink Himalayan sea salt, pepper, and chopped rosemary, freshly picked from the garden. While Valerie minces a couple of cloves of garlic to go with the onions, she tells me to rub the dry mix onto the steaks.
‘Goodness, that was simple,’ I remark. Maybe I need to experiment more with fresh ingredients, rather than ready-meals, or making a dash up to The Bullrush.
Quickly frying the meat off in a little olive oil to give it some colour, Valerie then slides the steaks onto a tray and pops it in the oven, while I sweat the onions and garlic.
By the time we have filled the rolls with the meltingly tender steaks and caramelised onions, the fire is lit, and the guys are patiently waiting. We wrap the rolls in foil, and I carry the tray as Valerie opens the door.
‘Take a deep breath, Immi,’ she whispers. ‘You’ll figure it all out over time.’
‘Ta da!’ I announce, stepping forward and looking rather smug at the result of our efforts.
‘Well, it smells good, whatever it is.’
Isn’t it funny how good food and wonderful company instantly seem to lift the spirits? Or is it that everything tastes better when you eat it outdoors?
Even after the first mouthful, it’s obvious the guys are impressed, too.
‘We need beer with this,’ Gray says, jumping up to go back inside.
‘Here you go.’ Gray comes back and hands around the opened bottles. ‘Can’t get a better beer than The Bulrush Inn Christmas Brew.’
We all raise our bottles to chink.
‘Here’s to a wonderful Christmas surrounded by some great friends we’ve come to regard as family.’ As Gray makes the toast I can see that both Fisher and Valerie are touched.
‘How did you manage to get the fire going so quickly?’ I ask, sitting back to savour the remainder of my steak roll as I watch the flames licking up around the sides of the pit.
Fisher taps the side of his nose, giving me a wink.
‘Old trick from my camping days. We found a disposal barbecue in the garage and put that in the bottom, then kindling on the top. Gives out a fair bit of heat, too.’
It’s cosy sitting here all wrapped up, despite the chill, and for the first time in a couple of days I’m finally feeling relaxed.
‘Is there much still to do?’ Fisher asks.
‘Quite a bit,’ I admit. ‘If we can get all the greenery sorted and store it overnight in the outhouse, then we can put it up first thing tomorrow. I don’t want the berries falling off because the temperature inside is too warm, but we’re going to need the heating on if it’s as cold tonight as it was last night.’
Gray peers up at the sky.
‘Well, if the temperature plunges again tonight the gritters will be out in force, that’s for sure.’
‘You might have to go and fetch your mum in the morning. I don’t like the thought of her driving over if it’s icy. It’s so kind of you to put her up, Valerie.’
We turn to look at Valerie, and her cheeks begin to colour.
‘I’ll be very glad of the company. Only one of my neighbours is home for Christmas, so Saint Nicholas’s Well is going to be rather quiet this year.’
After our little chat the other day I did wonder if she’d invite her son to stay, but maybe it’s simply too soon.
‘Don’t forget I’m always around to walk you back at any time, Valerie,’ Fisher says, breaking the silence. As their eyes meet, their gaze lingers for a second or two.
I look across at Gray, trying to draw his attention. Jumping up, I begin stacking the plates on the tray. Valerie immediately rises up out of her seat, but Gray has got the message.
‘You sit and relax for a bit, Valerie,’ he insists. ‘I’ll give Immi a hand with the dishes.’
As the two of us slip inside I give Gray an appreciative smile.
‘Thanks. It’s the perfect opportunity for them to sit and chat for a while if we take our time. Will you ring your mum and suggest you collect her in the morning?’
Gray sidles up to me as I deposit the tray on the worktop. He spins me around and into his arms.
‘Yes, I will. Now stop worrying. Everything is going to be fine. By the time we have all of this up tomorrow…’ he casts his eye over the results of this morning’s efforts ‘… it’s going to look amazing.’
I’m itching to make a start, but I know it would be a mistake.
‘We could put the tree up today, though, couldn’t we? It was supposed to go up last weekend.’
The poor thing has been languishing in the shed, standing in a bucket of water.
‘That’s my next job. Then sort the lights.’
As I snuggle up closer to Gray, I can’t resist taking a quick glance over his shoulder to peek at Valerie and Fisher. They’re chatting away so comfortably together, it’s a joy to see. I don’t think either of them quite knows how to handle that awkward stage where you leave a casual friendship behind and move on to the next stage. They’ve both been on their own for a long while, but they’ll figure it out when the time is right. Hopefully before the holidays are over, because I have a huge ball of mistletoe ready and waiting.
We both slip into a deep sleep, exhausted from the day. But just a few hours later I find myself in the darkness staring aimlessly out of the bedroom window, while Gray continues to sleep soundly.
I’m trying so hard to shake off the remnants of a disturbing dream, real enough to awaken me with a start.
As my eyes adjust to the dim greyness outside the window, the contours of the trees on the far side of the fields seem to step out of the shadows, like eerie sentinels keeping guard, and I begin to shiver.
Everything is going so well, that little voice inside my head speaks up reassuringly.
And it’s true, so many people I care about seem to be edging towards their own happy-ever-afters, at last. And even Tollie is the most relaxed I’ve known him to be in a long while. It feels as if this Christmas is a turning point in so many ways, for so many people.
And you know what they say about endings, I tell myself firmly. They signal the start of new beginnings.
The image from my dream is still trying to replay in my head, as much as I’m trying to push it away. I keep seeing a magnificent tower made of wooden bricks, each one carefully positioned as it goes higher and higher. And then, suddenly, one brick is taken away and the tower comes crashing down to the floor. All that is left is a higgledy-piggledy pile of meaningless wooden blocks – the magnificence of the structure gone, as if it were merely a mirage.
My heart begins to race as that familiar sense of panic rises up within my chest. I had it the day before Dad died and many, many times since. Determined to pull myself together, I think about the conversation I had with Valerie. She said that loving someone means you face things together, no matter what happens, and she was right. That’s all I need to remember now.
You’re starting to hyperventilate, Immi, you know the signs. My inner voice sounds strangely calming as the blood begins to pound in my ears. Slow your breathing down. You’
ll get through this – you know that for a fact. Good things happen all the time and now it’s your turn.
Holding onto the windowsill to steady myself, I take a slow, deep breath in and hold it for a couple of seconds before slowly releasing it.
One. Do it again, Immi, you’ve got this. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
My heart rate begins to slow, and the pounding sound starts to fade. It’s nerves, that’s all, I tell myself. Getting engaged is a big commitment and finding your soul mate, the one man who makes you feel complete, is a blessing.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ A sleepy voice calls out in the darkness and I take one final deep breath in as I head back to bed.
‘Nothing. It’s all good,’ I whisper as Gray throws back the covers so I can slip into bed. He proceeds to wrap himself around me to warm my chilled body.
It was just a dream, I reassure myself. As the cosy warmth of Gray’s body banishes not just the chill, but the fears, I continue to stare up at the window and the half-open blinds.
‘It’s snowing,’ I whisper. Gray’s body shifts slightly, but his eyes remain closed.
‘It’ll be gone by morning. It wasn’t forecast. Now close your eyes, Immi. It’s going to be a long day and you need to get some rest. Sweet dreams, my darling. I love you.’
20
A Dusting of the White Stuff
Oh dear. Sitting eating breakfast, I gaze out at the layer of whiteness stretching as far as the eye can see. It’s only a couple of inches, but no one was expecting it, so who knows whether the lane has been gritted? I suspect not as the temperature warmed overnight.
‘Do you think it’s possible to be weather sensitive?’ I pose the question in between bites of honey-and-butter-covered toast.
‘Weather sensitive?’ Gray looks at me uncomprehendingly, before wiping a few crumbs from around his mouth.
‘You know, emotionally. I felt a bit jittery last night and then when it started snowing everything changed and I settled back down.’
Now he’s frowning at me.
‘Well, some people say they get a headache when a storm is brewing, but it’s something to do with falling air pressure rather than a premonition. I’m not sure a flurry of snow has the same sort of dramatic effect on the barometer, so I’d guess your broken sleep was probably due to eating late and going to bed on a full stomach.’
I pop the last piece of toast into my mouth and decide to let the subject drop. This morning I feel fine and it’s probably best not to dwell on an unsettling dream. But now Gray is looking at me intently.
‘You aren’t having second thoughts about us, are you?’
My hand instinctively reaches out for his and our fingers entwine.
‘No, of course not! I guess the truth is that I’m missing Dad. And Grandma. It doesn’t feel right somehow, as if I’m waiting for them to turn up so the celebrations can really begin. I know how happy they would be for me, for us. It hurts that they aren’t a part of it, and I can’t get my head around them not being here.’
Gray wraps both of his hands around mine, drawing them together.
‘That’s perfectly understandable, Immi. I’d hoped that celebrating our engagement tomorrow would help lift your spirits this Christmas and make up for the disappointments of last year, but that was kind of naïve of me, wasn’t it? You’re bound to miss the people who should have been here. It will obviously play on your mind, so don’t go fretting over the feelings it churns up.
‘But can you do me a really big favour? Next time you wake up in the dead of night like that, dig me in the ribs, because I don’t want you feeling alone, or lonely, ever. Once I’m out for the count, then I’m gone; it takes a lot to disturb me. I want to be there for you, though, whenever you need me, but I won’t know unless you tell me. Fair deal?’
As he raises my fingertips to his lips I nod, tears beginning to blur my vision as I take in the concern reflected in his eyes. ‘Yes,’ I reply, my voice suddenly raspy.
‘Hey, silly thing, it’s Christmas Eve and you aren’t allowed to get maudlin. We have garlands to hang and the tree to finish. Next year we’ll get our act together a lot earlier, I promise. Anyway, are you a betting woman? Do you think the snow will be gone by the time I drop Mum off at Valerie’s later this morning?’
Gray releases my hand and I swipe away a tear that’s about to spill down over my cheek. Flashing him the brightest of smiles, I glance across at the patio doors once more to gaze out.
‘Hmm. That’s a very strange-looking grey sky. I’d wager a fiver that we’re actually going to get a little more.’
‘Are you saying that as an optimist, or a pessimist?’ His eyes are teasing me, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘I think it’ll turn to rain.’
‘Well, as long as it doesn’t stop our guests from getting here and we don’t get a power cut before the turkey is cooked tomorrow morning, put me down as an optimist. It would be rather romantic.’
And then Gray starts singing, ‘Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!’
His voice is soft and low as he pulls me to my feet and waltzes me around the kitchen.
‘It’s a big day for us tomorrow, my lovely Immi. I think the snow will melt away as quickly as the other day and the sun will come out to shine on us.’
I can’t help but grin back at him as he looks at me with adoring eyes. A stray thought jumps into my head.
‘Should I have organised an engagement cake, instead of the traditional Christmas desserts?’
His face falls. ‘Cake? Christmas desserts? I was rather banking on a cheesecake.’
I slap my forehead dramatically with my hand as if I’d forgotten, then throw him a wicked smile.
‘Third thing on my to-do list for today. I thought I’d make an extra big one, in case the others decide to sample it, too. But I’ll only cut them thin slivers, I promise! Anyway, first things first. That huge pile of twinkly lights isn’t going to sort itself. We don’t want Santa driving on past us tonight, do we, if everything’s in darkness?’
‘Yes, boss. I’m on it,’ Gray replies, giving me his best Captain Gray salute.
‘I’ll clear this lot away, if you get the ladder and start hanging the two ropes from the beams. I can then begin hooking on the bunches of greenery while you make a start on the lights.’
Gray immediately scurries away to get started and it doesn’t take long to sort out the kitchen. As Gray returns with the ladder the doorbell rings.
‘It’s the farm shop,’ I call over my shoulder as I walk out into the hallway. When I open the door, the guy in front of me has his arms firmly wrapped around a very large box.
‘Morning, Immi. Where do you want the turkey? I also have another box for you. It’s quite a trek back to the van, what with this snow.’
‘Hi, Roger. Thanks. If you can pop it through here, that would be great.’
He follows me into the kitchen, placing it on the draining board as he looks up at Gray, who is now drilling and plugging the first fixing.
‘Goodness, that’s a job and a half you have on your hands there, Gray,’ he reflects jovially.
‘Anything to please my woman,’ Gray replies, giving me a wink. ‘What are the roads like?’
‘Not too bad, at the moment. Right, second box on its way.’
As Roger disappears Gray stops what he’s doing, nodding in my direction.
‘Is that all turkey?’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘Well, I’m assuming, hoping, that the meat is all in one box.’
Gray returns to his work and I go in search of my purse to give Roger a tip. Then the unpacking begins. I ordered a large joint of pork as my back-up plan, as suggested by Valerie, and I want to get it into the oven pretty sharpish. A couple of hours should do it and then I’ll sort the cheesecake.
As I begin to unpack the box, to my dismay it’s just the turkey and it’s a struggle to lift it out.
‘Immi, is that monster going to fit inside the oven?’ Gray call
s over, looking down at me from halfway up the ladder.
I’m thinking the same thing as I dump the shrink-wrapped bird down on the counter and go in search of the new roasting tin that I bought to accommodate it.
And it doesn’t fit.
I’m conscious Gray is now laughing at my dilemma and as he clears his throat to speak, the long coil of rope slung over his shoulder suddenly slips. In his efforts to rescue it the drill slips out of his other hand and crashes to the floor. Nerves jangling, we stare at each other in a state of shock.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. Are you okay?’ he asks sheepishly.
At least his feet are still planted very firmly on the steps.
‘Not the best start to the day, is it?’ I murmur, glancing out to see that it’s just started snowing again.
What is it they say about the best-laid plans? I give up scratching my head over the turkey and stick it back inside the box, then unpack the rest of the delivery.
‘Right, I’m done securing these ropes, Immi. I might as well take the turkey and stick it in the utility room for now. It’s cooler in there and you certainly won’t get it in the fridge.’
Just the thought of how on earth I’m going to squash it into that tray is beginning to give me a headache.
With the joint of pork safely in the oven cooking, I climb the ladder to start hanging the bunches of greenery. My mood lifts with each little bundle I lovingly suspend with a bow of thin twine.
On his return, Gray looks up, impressed. ‘That’s awesome, Immi. There’s only one set of lights I haven’t managed to get working yet, but I think it’s best that I fetch Mum now. It’s not looking great out there, and the forecast isn’t good. I’ll sort them out as soon as I get back, though. Be careful up there and don’t be tempted to over-reach.’