Christmas at the Falling-Down Guesthouse

by Lilly Bartlett

  So I’ve been left to unwind by the glow of my BlackBerry. I’ve found that if I lean out the open bedroom window I can get a painfully slow internet connection. I do realise that shivering in the cold trying to download BBC news may not be everyone’s idea of relaxation, but this late-night news cruise is now habit. Though squizzing at the little screen in the dark does give me a headache.

  I dive into my handbag in the hope that there’s some paracetamol in there. My tummy lurches when my hand finds Robert’s present instead. It’s the size of a spectacles case and weighs nothing. Maybe it is nothing. Ha, wouldn’t that be the last laugh? No, that’s something Karl would do, not Robert. He bought it before, he said. That would be before, when he still liked me. Before he dumped me without even telling me why.

  Not that I asked at the time. I was too angry. After six months, to be so unceremoniously ditched still makes me seethe. It has to be another woman. Though Robert doesn’t seem like the two-timing type.

  I didn’t find out until later that Jez had defied Matchmaker Marley for years to keep us apart (he’s a braver man than I). I never asked Jez why he did that. At first I didn’t think I’d like the answer. Then, after Robert did the runner, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about him, not even Marley.

  I noticed him right away at the bar the night we met, even though it was heaving. He’s tall and lanky, with friendly yet bashful deep blue eyes. Jez clocked me looking at his best friend and hurried over. ‘Carol, hey! I think Marley’s just gone to the loo if you want to join her.’

  ‘Why would I want to join her in the loo?’ I asked, kissing him hello. ‘I’ll get a drink and mingle.’

  Within five minutes Robert and I were talking like Skate and I used to. Not in bone-shattering confidences, but with an easy repartee. There was no question that we’d see each other again.

  He took me to St John in Farringdon on our first date. ‘This is offal!’ I’d said, perusing the dinner menu.

  ‘Oh, it’s not that bad,’ he deadpanned. ‘Nose-to-tail dining. Will you have the bone marrow or trotter pie?’

  ‘Bone marrow is a treatment for leukaemia, and I make it a rule never to eat any cut of meat with toenails attached. I think I’ll have the roast beef.’

  ‘Living dangerously.’

  ‘I’m playing fast and loose with the horseradish, though.’

  The night galloped along, as did the many dates afterwards. Within a month we were spending our weekends together.

  Robert was so easy to get along with. It never seemed to bother him that I can be a bit particular in my views and habits. In fact, he seemed to find them cute. Nobody’s ever called me cute before or since.

  One thing did start to rankle, though. The first time it happened I was taking some clients to a concert and black-tie dinner at St Paul’s Cathedral. Just as I’d changed into my gown in the tiny office loo cubicle, my BlackBerry rang. ‘Hi!’ I said happily. ‘Are you all dolled up?’ I loved Robert in his dinner jacket – very sexy.

  ‘Carol, I’m really sorry but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight.’

  ‘But we’re meeting in an hour.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry but I can’t. Something important has come up that I have to do.’

  ‘More important than keeping a date with me that you’ve had for weeks?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ I knew by his tone that this was non-negotiable. ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?’

  So I went alone to St Paul’s with a false smile on my face, wondering what could be urgent enough to stand me up.

  I never found out. When Robert and I talked the next day, he was evasive. Just personal stuff, he said, and nothing to do with me, or us. He was adamant about that, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  But forgiving him seemed to unleash a flood of personal stuff, and he started disappearing more regularly. I became alert to absences even when we weren’t due to spend the night together. At first it was the odd evening when he’d shut off his mobile. If I left a message he wouldn’t return it until the next day. He claimed it was because every so often he liked to be alone without distraction. Then I sometimes called the office to be told he’d taken the afternoon off. Of course he was perfectly welcome to take time off without clearing it with me first. But it was odd not to mention it, given that we talked every day (when he returned my messages, that is).

  Yet I couldn’t fault our relationship when we were together. Sometimes, when you first think someone’s funny, that humour dims with familiarity. There are only so many times you can hear the same joke and still raise a smile. But that didn’t happen with Robert. He stayed funny, and interesting and smart and sexy.

  Then, in September he stopped disappearing. It was a perfect month. By the time my birthday came around I’d convinced myself that I was overreacting. Who didn’t like a little ‘me’ time?

  Marley arranged for a bunch of us to meet at my local pub the night before my birthday. When Jez arrived I was surprised Robert wasn’t with him.

  Jez was equally surprised that he wasn’t with us already. ‘He’s probably tied up at the office,’ he said.

  Robert often worked late when he had a project to finish. I rang his mobile but it went straight through to voicemail. He must be on the Tube, I thought.

  Two drinks later and there was still no sign of my boyfriend. His phone was switched off. ‘Can I have a large glass of wine?’ I asked Marley as she prepared to go to the bar.

  ‘How about a small glass? You don’t want to be hung-over for your birthday.’

  ‘Hmph. I don’t care. I might just stay in bed anyway.’

  ‘No, you can’t! We’ve got breakfast and then shopping, remember? And you’ve got lunch with Robert.’

  ‘Screw Robert. He doesn’t even care enough to be here tonight. I don’t need this kind of hassle. It’s not worth it. I’m going to tell him so.’ I pulled out my BlackBerry before remembering that his phone was off.

  She hugged me. ‘You know that’s not true, Carol, and you like him too much to break up.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I wish you’d stop being so guarded all the time. You don’t let anything touch you. That’s no way to live.’

  ‘You know why, Marley.’

  The scars Ben left were still pretty fresh. I may have forbidden myself to think about that relationship but I couldn’t stop my nerve endings from still being sensitive.

  ‘Emotions get you nowhere.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, I’m sure Robert’s got a very good explanation,’ she said. ‘Don’t do anything stupid just because you’re angry.’

  ‘I thought you said I have no emotions?’

  ‘I meant pleasant emotions.’

  She got me the large glass of wine and I downed it. By the time we left, my anger at Robert was awash in the Merlot.

  Over breakfast with Marley the next morning I mentioned Robert’s disappearing acts. She was surprised, to say the least.

  ‘Can you talk to Jez and find out what’s going on with him?’ I asked her after breakfast as we wandered through Harvey Nichols looking for my birthday present.

  She shook her head. ‘He won’t say a word to me about you and Robert. Every time I bring it up he reminds me–’ Her eyes slid away.

  ‘He reminds you what? What? What did he say?’

  ‘Oh, Carol, you know Jez loves you, right?’

  I nod.

  ‘He just doesn’t think you and Robert should be together. He says one of you is going to get hurt.’

  ‘You mean he thinks Robert will get hurt,’ I say. If someone who’s known me for that long didn’t want their best friend to go out with me, what did that say about me?

  ‘He just thinks you two are very different, that’s all. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what he thinks, does it? You and Robert are good together. Please don’t be angry with Jez.’

  ‘I’m not angry. I guess we are different.’ I pondered that all the w
ay to the restaurant where I was meeting Robert for my birthday lunch.

  My anger flooded back as soon as I saw him at the entrance. He kissed me deeply. ‘Happy birthday, darling. Did you have a nice breakfast?’

  ‘Yes. In fact, I’m not very hungry yet. Maybe we could have a glass of wine in the bar first?’

  We definitely needed to talk.

  ‘I was going to suggest the same thing.’ He led me through to the sleek bar overlooking the Thames. ‘Two glasses of champagne, please.’

  ‘Robert, you know I’ve never been very good at pretending nothing is wrong, so I can’t just ignore the fact that you didn’t bother to turn up last night.’

  He just grinned like I’d told him his football team had won. ‘Thank you,’ he said to the waiter as he set our glasses down. ‘Shall we toast?’

  ‘Robert, are you listening to me? I’m really angry about last night!’

  ‘I know. Cheers.’

  He tipped his glass to mine, still grinning.

  ‘Have you had a lobotomy or something? This is ridiculous.’ I’d rather spend my birthday at home on my sofa. I stood up to leave, shrugging back into my coat and gathering my bags.

  ‘Carol? Wait a minute, you forgot something.’

  On the table was an airline envelope. ‘What is that?’

  ‘Open it and see.’

  I opened the envelope. ‘Denpasar?’

  ‘Bali. In fact, we’d better leave in a few minutes, just in case there’s traffic on the way to the airport. Happy birthday, Carol! I packed your bag last night.’

  ‘I thought you stood me up.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry you were upset but we figured it was better for me to be missing than Marley. You’d never believe she wouldn’t be there for your birthday.’

  That was true. ‘But–’

  ‘Don’t worry. Marley made me the most detailed packing list you can imagine. She knew you’d freak out without exactly the right outfits.’

  I stared at my boyfriend, letting this complete turnaround sink in. ‘Thank you,’ I said, finally hugging him. It was quite the most wonderful thing anyone had ever done for me.

  ‘You’re welcome. I love you very much, Carol.’

  I was stunned. Robert loved me. Intense feeling swelled up, churning, threatening to burst the banks. But then so did an intensely sick feeling, as if I was looking over a cliff’s edge. I’d been here before and look what happened. I still smarted from letting those words loose before. Was it worth it? I felt dizzy thinking about it. So I said nothing.

  We left for the airport with his declaration unanswered.

  We both knew something changed that day and no amount of soft sand, hot sun or spicy curries made up for that. We bickered our way through paradise, finding fault with each other where there wasn’t any before. I didn’t know how to correct my mistake. I couldn’t answer him days later. If he didn’t reciprocate, I’d feel like crawling under the closest volcanic rock and dying. That was probably how he felt all week long.

  By the time we got back we’d found an equilibrium again, both pretending that Robert had never uttered those words. Things went back to normal. We went out. We stayed in. He occasionally went incommunicado.

  But I still felt bad. That poor man had taken the risk of telling me his feelings and I ignored him. And that was before he spent a fortune to fly me halfway around the world for a romantic birthday week. So I decided to make it up to him in the only way I knew how. Not with a week away – there was no way I could drop another surprise like that on my boss. As it was, he’d barely let me go in the first place. Instead, I booked us a table at The Fat Duck, the Michelin star restaurant that Robert had been dying to try for ages. I arranged for a car to pick us up from work and take us out to Berkshire for the evening sitting.

  The only problem was, when I got to Robert’s office, he wasn’t there. I’d checked with his secretary when I made the reservation. He didn’t have any client meetings and she made sure it stayed that way. ‘I’m so sorry, Carol,’ she said. ‘He left about an hour ago, but didn’t say where he was going. Do you want to try his mobile?’

  I knew it was no use but I dialled anyway. I wasn’t prepared for him to pick up. ‘Robert! Hi. Erm, where are you?’

  ‘At the office. What’s up?’

  ‘You’re at your office? That’s funny, because I’m here. And you’re definitely not… Would you like to tell me what’s going on?’

  It was too much to hope that he was secretly packing my bags for another romantic jaunt.

  ‘Why are you at my office?’

  ‘I was going to surprise you by taking you to The Fat Duck tonight. I’ve arranged a car to drive us, and a table for seven o’clock.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Carol, but I can’t do it tonight. I wish you hadn’t booked it without checking first.’

  ‘This isn’t fair,’ I said angrily. ‘It was going to be perfect. I turn up to take you out and you’re not even here. Even worse, you’re lying about where you are. This was meant to be a perfect night and you’ve ruined it.’ I hated the disappointment I felt, the gut-wrenching hollowness when I realised what this probably meant. I quickly stamped down those feelings.

  ‘Carol, don’t you get it? Nothing’s really perfect.’ He sounded angry. ‘Life isn’t perfect. It’s horrible and messy and pretty bloody unfair, in fact. We just muddle on as best we can.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ I said. ‘In my life, things are pretty damn perfect because I make sure they are. If something isn’t perfect, then I change it. It’s only when other people get involved that things go wrong.’

  He sighed. ‘I know that. I’m sorry but I’m not like you. My life is so far from perfect, you can’t even imagine. If I thought you could, I’d– It doesn’t matter. You’re right. You do deserve perfect, and that’s so much more than I can ever offer. I’ve known that all along but I hoped… I’m sorry but this isn’t going to work, is it? Please forgive me.’

  He hung up, leaving me wondering how we went from dinner at The Fat Duck to breaking up in a single phone call.

  That was the last time I talked to Robert. Until yesterday.

  I put the present back in my bag. I wish those memories were as easy to pack away.

  Chapter Eight

  It’s still dark when Marley crawls into my bed. ‘Are you awake?’ she whispers, unnecessarily, given that she’s trying to disturb me.

  ‘If I said no, would you leave me alone?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She flips and flops, wrapping herself in my duvet. ‘I’m getting married today!’

  I smile. ‘I know. That’s why we’re all here, remember? I’m guessing you’re excited.’

  ‘You know what I keep thinking about? Standing up next to Jez and telling him I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him. I’ve been trying to figure out why that’s so significant for me.’

  I prop myself up on an elbow. ‘The clue is in the words, Marl. The rest of your life. That’s huge.’

  ‘But I already know I want to be with him forever. So why does it matter so much saying it out loud? That’s what I don’t get. But it definitely does matter.’ She flops again. ‘I’m never going to go back to sleep.’

  Then apparently neither am I.

  ‘Come on,’ she says, bouncing to her feet. ‘Let’s sneak downstairs and eat last night’s leftover pudding, like we used to do at home. If Mrs Campbell catches us we’ll pretend we’re sleepwalking.’

  ‘Just let me check my BlackBerry first.’

  ‘Carol, you are ridiculous! It’s Saturday. What can be so urgent? You have an unhealthy relationship with that thing. You and Karl were messaging each other at dinner last night, weren’t you?’

  ‘How did you know that?’ I’d kept it on silent in my lap the whole time.

  ‘I didn’t. You just confirmed it. Seriously, can’t you leave it, just for today? Please? It can be your wedding present to me.’

  ‘You know I already got you the Louboutin we
dding shoes.’

  ‘Then you can give me two presents.’

  ‘Greedy.’

  ‘Speaking of presents, I have one for you, too, in my room.’

  She leads me next door to the wedding suite.

  ‘For today,’ she says, handing me a small package. Inside is a tiny bag to perfectly match my dress. ‘It’s beautiful!’ I say, kissing her.

  ‘And it’s too small for your BlackBerry. It took me ages to find one that size. So there. Problem solved.’ She looks very pleased with herself.

  As we pad downstairs in our dressing gowns and slippers, the lamp outside catches Marley’s attention. ‘Oh no, look!’

  Big fat snowflakes twinkle in the lamp’s glow. ‘I’m sure it’s just a flurry,’ I say. ‘That’s hardly any snow at all. Come on, let’s eat some pudding.’

  I hurry her away from the window before she gets a look at the small drifts that have started to accumulate against the outbuildings.

  Nearly a hundred guests are due on the coaches at lunchtime, but at this rate, Mum might never see them. She’ll be in hospital with a coronary by then. There’s a queue of vans along the drive all trying to deliver their goods before the blizzard properly takes hold. Mrs Campbell is barking orders at the caterers and florists and wine merchants, and Auntie Lou is flapping so hard she looks ready to take off. In the midst of it all, Dad quietly strums his guitar on the stairs.

  ‘Mum, what can I do to help?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ she says. ‘It just seems like everything is happening at once. Mrs Campbell is shouting a lot.’

  ‘I think that’s her normal mode of communication,’ I point out.

  ‘She seems to have everything under control,’ Dad says.

  ‘But what if she’s doing it all wrong?’ Mum says with her hand on her hip. ‘I should go check.’

  She rushes off to the kitchen to harass the house manager. And they wonder where I get it.