Christmas in London

by Anita Hughes

  Now the cab turned onto Bow Street and stopped in front of the Royal Opera House. It had Greek columns and marble steps covered with a plush red carpet. And the people! Women in gowns like bright shades of lipstick and men wearing cashmere overcoats.

  “Remember when we were at St Andrews and I begged you to go to the Royal Opera House?” Kate peered out the window.

  “We were studying Romeo and Juliet and the Royal Ballet was giving a performance,” Trevor recalled. “Some students were driving to London for the weekend. They stayed in their parents’ flat in Kew and returned with bottles of Rémy Martin filched from their parents’ private collection.”

  “We could have gone,” Kate said. “It wouldn’t have cost you a thing.”

  “Sit in the back of some student’s Range Rover for eight hours? I was only invited because you refused to go without me,” he sniffed. “There was a perfectly good production at the Edinburgh Opera House. We took the bus and afterward ate fish and chips and toured the Scottish National Gallery.”

  “I couldn’t go without you. We were study partners,” she reminded him. “It would have been fun. The group went dancing at Annabel’s and had brunch the next day at the Savoy.”

  “We’re here now.” His eyes softened. “You look beautiful, Kate. I’m glad you came.”

  “I couldn’t refuse.” She smiled. “Where else will I ever wear long white gloves?”

  They entered a foyer with red velvet wallpaper and crystal chandeliers. Red sofas were scattered over Oriental rugs and there was a champagne bar with burgundy-upholstered chairs.

  “I’m glad I didn’t buy the red Halston,” Kate laughed. “I would have clashed with the décor.”

  “You would only have made it more eye-catching,” Trevor offered.

  A woman in her early thirties approached them. She wore a peach organza gown and emerald earrings.

  “Trevor!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing in London? I thought you’d be at Yardley Manor. I’m so disappointed Craig and I are missing Susannah’s house party.”

  “I had business in town,” Trevor said evasively. “I doubt I’ll be missed, I always get in the way. I give away our hand in bridge and misread Susannah’s prompts at charades. The house party will run smoothly without me.”

  “Nonsense,” the woman laughed. “You know everything about math and taught us how to play chess.” She turned to Kate. “I’m Jane Davies.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you,” Trevor apologized. “Kate is an old friend from St Andrews.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand. “Susannah and Trevor give the best parties. That reminds me—” She turned to Trevor. “We’re spending April in Cornwall and you and Susannah must come. We just redecorated the house.”

  “I’ll put it on the calendar,” Trevor said as the bell chimed. “It’s time to go in.”

  “You look somehow familiar,” Jane said to Kate. “Have we already met?”

  “I don’t think so.” Kate shook her head. “I live in New York.”

  “I love New York,” Jane mused. “Everyone is in a hurry and the skyline is spectacular. It was wonderful to see you, Trevor. Tell Susannah I’m devastated I’ll miss her plum pudding.”

  Trevor led Kate to the box and she glanced eagerly at the stage. A white Christmas tree reached the ceiling and a pink rug was littered with wrapped boxes. Stockings hung from the stone fireplace and a round table held cakes and dried fruit.

  The ballerina who played Clara was lovely and the Nutcracker was handsome and brave. In the second act the stage was transformed to the Land of Snow and Kate almost felt cold. Snowflakes covered the ground and trees were strung with icicles and the corps de ballet wore white tutus and white satin ballet slippers.

  They entered the lobby and Trevor bought glasses of champagne.

  “I love the ballet.” Kate sipped her champagne. “When I was a girl, I played a mouse in the local production of The Nutcracker. The next year I was promoted to Mouse King because I was the tallest girl in the class,” she laughed. “My ballet career didn’t last long after that.”

  “I will miss having a box,” Trevor mused. “Susannah will get it in the divorce, along with Yardley Manor and most of the people in our contacts.” He sighed. “I have my club membership and the dogs. Though the dogs may not be happy. At Yardley Manor they get fed goose and sirloin tips.”

  “Susannah won’t get all your friends. That woman, Jane, was eager to have you as a houseguest,” she reminded him.

  “Jane doesn’t know we’re getting a divorce.” He shrugged. “Susannah wanted to keep it quiet until after the house party. It’s easier to be festive when you’re not discussing solicitors or who gets the didgeridoo Prince Harry gave us for our wedding.”

  “Did Prince Harry really give you a didgeridoo?” she laughed.

  “He brought it back from Australia. At first I thought it was some kind of primitive weapon. But then Harry showed me how to play it, and I quite liked it.”

  A woman approached them and Kate recognized Jane.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I kept thinking about Kate during the ballet.” Jane joined them. “I remember where we met.”

  “You do?” Kate wondered.

  “It was at a Christmas house party in Scotland a dozen years ago,” Jane answered. “It was at one of those huge estates that never runs out of bedrooms. There was sledding and an amateur production of a Noël Coward play.” She fiddled with her earrings. “You were with Ian Cunningham. I remember the first time I saw you, in front of the fire in the drawing room. You had white-blond hair and a tan complexion.

  “To be honest, we wanted Ian to date someone from our own circle,” she continued. “But you were such a good sport during the snowball fight and taught everyone how to make American s’mores.” She paused. “By the end of the week we were hoping you were a couple.”

  Kate glanced at Trevor and his cheeks were pale. He gripped his champagne flute so tightly she was afraid it might break.

  “Ian and I didn’t work out,” Kate said quickly. “We broke up a long time ago.”

  “It’s a pity,” Jane said. “You would have made a wonderful addition to the group. Ian was clearly smitten with you.”

  Jane drifted away and Kate turned to Trevor. His brow was furrowed and there were lines around his mouth.

  “This has been lovely, but I should go,” she said. “I’ll call a cab. You can stay and have a proper dinner.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “The past is all around us.” She waved her hand. “At your private club and the Royal Opera House and at house parties in the British countryside. We can’t pretend nothing happened and we’re just going to get hurt.” She tried to smile. “It’s better if we become Facebook friends and send each other messages on our birthdays.”

  “You can’t leave yet,” he urged. “I want to show you something.”

  “What is it?” she wondered.

  “It’s a surprise,” he answered. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  Trevor flagged a cab and they drove to Hampstead. The taxi stopped in front of a stone building with an iron gate.

  “Where are we?” she asked, stepping onto the pavement.

  “Do you remember the night we first met and I took you to see the James Gregory Telescope? This is the Hampstead Observatory.” He led her inside. “It was founded in 1898. It’s the only observatory in London that’s open to the public.”

  “We’re going to stargaze wearing formal attire?” she laughed.

  “It’s like those nights at St Andrews when everyone got dressed up for a dance, and it was so boring they left early. They lounged around the quad in dinner jackets and evening gowns and saw who could toss cigarette butts the farthest.”

  “You never joined us,” she recalled. “You sat at the desk in your room and looked down as if we were a group of thugs.”

  “I’m here now.” He took her h
and and led her up a circular staircase. “Wait until you see Orion and Pluto.”

  At the top of the staircase was a room with rounded windows. Kate peered through the telescope and gasped. The stars were so close they were like diamonds on some fabulous tiara.

  “I haven’t looked through a telescope in years.” She stepped away. “Nobody stargazes in New York. There’s so much to do, it’s impossible to just stand and look at the sky.”

  “Nothing is impossible if you want it badly enough,” Trevor murmured.

  “Trevor,” she said and felt a sudden uncertainty, like when she was ice-skating in Central Park and the ice was slightly cracked. She didn’t know whether to keep skating or turn back.

  “You’re bright and beautiful and full of life,” he whispered. “What I really want is to kiss you.”

  He moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. His kiss was warm and she tasted champagne and butter.

  “Trevor, wait.” She pulled away. “You’re just separated and I’m leaving in a few days.”

  Trevor ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath.

  “You’re right. I got carried away by the ballet and the champagne and the stars,” he said.

  “It is beautiful here.” She moved to the window and gazed at the sky. “I’m glad we came.”

  He straightened his tie and a smile crossed his face. “Should we go? We don’t want to get caught making out, like two students sneaking into a chemistry lab.”

  She walked over to him and kissed him lightly on the mouth. He kissed her back and she inhaled his musk aftershave.

  “Now we can go.” She nodded and started down the stairs.

  * * *

  Kate stood at the window of her suite and sipped a glass of sherry. It was almost midnight and a thick fog had settled over the sidewalk. Silver Rolls-Royces were shrouded in mist and she could see the faint outline of Hyde Park.

  Kissing Trevor at the observatory had been wonderful, but it couldn’t lead to anything. She had a busy career and Trevor was starting a divorce.

  She had never been able to separate love and attraction. They were stuck together like the leads in a romantic movie: they always started out having a casual fling but ended up standing at the altar.

  And she and Trevor could cause each other so much pain. Trevor’s whole body tensed when the woman at the ballet mentioned Ian. Ian’s name would keep popping up and it would be like living with an unexploded bomb.

  She flashed on the house party Jane had mentioned. She had been stranded at St Andrews and Ian had rescued her.

  * * *

  Kate opened her textbook and fiddled with her pencil. It was finals week and Mitchells was crammed with students lugging heavy backpacks and drinking endless cups of coffee. Their eyes were rimmed and they wore baggy sweatpants and St Andrews sweatshirts.

  She and Ian had had a lovely time at the Snowdrop Ball. He kept her champagne glass filled and was a wonderful dancer. But when they returned to the residence hall, his lips barely brushed her cheek.

  She had only seen him a few times since, and he was usually in the middle of a group. Once he called her name while she was crossing the quad. When she turned around, he was flanked by two girls in sheepskin coats and fur boots like a rock star arriving at the airport.

  Now Trevor walked toward her table, carrying a Styrofoam coffee cup. His hair fell over his forehead and his socks didn’t match.

  “How can you drink more coffee?” She shuddered. “It’s only noon and it’s your fourth cup. You need to eat something—a slice of shepherd’s pie or a sausage roll.”

  “I can’t afford coffee and food at the same time. The only important thing is staying awake.” He set the cup on the table. “I’ve even given up fighting with the dryer for a matching pair of socks. It’s like a fire-breathing dragon. I wear whatever it spits out.”

  “Finals will be over in two days,” Kate said with a sigh. “Then I’ll be sitting on the beach in Santa Barbara. On Christmas Day all the surfers put on red hats and surf at Butterfly Beach. I wish you were coming. My parents would love to have you.”

  “I can barely afford my train ticket home and I don’t have a valid passport.” He shrugged. “I have bad news. Your Christmas isn’t going to involve palm trees and surfboards.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “There’s an airline strike,” he answered. “All the flights are grounded.”

  “That’s impossible!” she exclaimed. “The strike has to end. I have to be in California for Christmas.”

  “You’ve never experienced a British transportation strike,” he chuckled. “Heathrow will be more crowded than Wembley Stadium at a Rolling Stones concert. Once the flights resume, it will be impossible to get a seat. You could be waiting at the airport until New Year’s.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” She bit her lip. “The dorms are closed and if there’s a strike, all the hotels will be full.”

  “I wish you could come home with me, but there isn’t any room. My aunt arrives with her four children,” he explained. “We can stay here and bunk down in the Student Union. We’ll have unlimited cups of coffee and packets of shortbread.”

  “You can’t miss Christmas with your family.” She collected her books and stood up. “I’ll think of something.”

  “Where are you going?” he wondered.

  “To call my parents and tell them they don’t have to make my favorite gravy.”

  She hurried down North Street and bumped into a man wearing a wool coat. He bent down to pick up her books and she recognized Ian’s blond hair.

  “These textbooks weigh a ton.” He gave them to her. “If one dropped on your foot, you could break it.”

  “It’s finals week. Most students carry backpacks heavier than a stack of gold bullion.” She eyed his empty hands. “Not all of us can pass our classes on our good looks and smile.”

  “I’ve been studying all week,” he protested. “There’s a very nice library assistant who keeps my books behind the counter. She even provides me with a Shetland wool blanket.”

  “Lucky you.” She started walking. “Thank you for picking up my books. I’m in a hurry, I have to make a phone call.”

  “Are you always rude to people who are trying to be nice to you?” He followed her.

  “What do you mean?” She turned around.

  “Ever since the Snowdrop Ball, you’ve been avoiding me,” he said. “I’ve seen you crossing the quad, and you never even wave in my direction.”

  “You’re always busy.” She flushed. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “I’m not busy now.” He took her arm. “I’m going to the Student Union for hot apple cider. Why don’t you come? You can tell me why you’re putting innocent people at risk by barreling along the sidewalk.”

  They sat on low sofas in the Student Union and Ian ordered hot apple ciders and scones with strawberry butter.

  “There’s an airline strike and I can’t get home for Christmas,” she said, nibbling the warm scone. “The dorms are closed and all the hotels will be full. I’ll be sleeping on a bench at Heathrow Airport.”

  Ian brushed crumbs from his plate. “I can’t let that happen. You can come with me.”

  “Come with you where?” Kate asked warily.

  “To Churchill Lodge,” he said. “It’s my uncle’s shooting estate in Warwickshire. It was built in the seventeenth century. There’s grouse hunting and on Christmas Eve the whole parish sings carols on the doorstep.”

  “If you think I’m going to go away with you when we hardly know each other…” Her cheeks flushed.

  “I don’t expect to share a bedroom,” he chuckled. “Churchill Lodge has more bedrooms than the Ritz and just as many servants. There are scavenger hunts and charades, and on New Year’s Eve there’s a ball that makes the Snowdrop Ball look like a dance at the rec center.”

  “You really can just bring a guest unannounced?” Kate wondered.

  �
�You would make a stunning addition to the dinner table and I’m sure you’re good at games, all Americans are competitive,” he said and Kate noticed his eyes were the color of blue topaz. “We’ll even stop at Debenhams and pick you up some wellies. You don’t want to get those gorgeous legs wet if you go fly-fishing.”

  “All right.” Kate nodded and felt a frisson of excitement. “I’ll go, thank you.”

  * * *

  Kate sat at her desk and pored over a map of Scotland. There was a knock at her door and she answered it.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” Trevor entered the room. “I have good news.”

  “So do I.” Kate beamed. “I’m going to spend Christmas at Churchill Lodge in Warwickshire. There will be sledding and a New Year’s Eve ball. It’s going to be like something out of a Jane Austen novel.”

  “I’m guessing one of your society members invited you. The food will be so rich you’ll get a stomachache, and everyone will be hung over from drinking malt whiskey.” He shuddered. “It sounds gruesome.”

  “I think it sounds wonderful. It has one of those huge kitchens you see in the movies and a hallway lined with antlers. Not that I want to meet a moose in a dark corridor when I’m on the way to get a midnight snack,” she laughed. “But it will be a great experience. Ian said the dining-room table sits fifty and there’s a forest with its own Christmas trees.”

  “Ian?” Trevor looked up.

  “Ian Cunningham.” She nodded. “I ran into him in front of the Student Union. It belongs to his uncle and I’m going as his guest.”

  “That’s impossible.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You can’t go with Ian.”

  “What do you mean ‘I can’t’?” she demanded.

  “He just wants to sleep with you,” he started. “Ian Cunningham goes through women faster than other students consume Cadbury Flakes.”

  “Churchill Lodge is so big, we’ll probably be staying in different wings.” She bristled. “Anyway, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “It’s a bad idea,” he insisted. “Why would he invite a girl he barely knows to a family Christmas unless he has designs on her?”