Finding Love at the Christmas Market
Page 22
‘And what you needed to do was share your worries.’
‘Nothing wrong!’ she calls to Norman, waving the crumpled letter. ‘Got myself into a tizzy, waiting for my check-up results.’
He climbs down his ladder and comes over to hug her hard, then kisses her gently on the lips. ‘Best Christmas present ever,’ he says, looking at her wet face.
‘Life is always better shared!’ I say.
‘Now, talking of presents,’ says Pearl, wiping her eyes, then straightening from Norman’s embrace.
‘Let’s open that prosecco,’ announces Norman. ‘It’s Christmas Eve after all. And turn up the carols, John!’
John does so with a smile.
I grab some glasses and Norman fetches the prosecco from the fridge. He opens it with a pop and a cheer.
‘Well I never!’ says Penny, coming into the day room, with a couple of about my age just as another cork pops.
‘Wow!’ says the younger woman, admiring the decorated room, the gingerbread-house building and the prosecco pouring.
‘Not what I was expecting!’ says the young man.
‘Thought we’d all be locked away in our flats, did you?’ says Maeve, with a wink.
‘Actually, we’re planning lots of things for the new year,’ says Norman.
‘We could have cookery classes, get the kids from the school over to bake with us,’ says Maeve.
‘And have concerts. Maybe that Scottish choir could visit while they’re touring,’ says John.
‘And a knitting group. I have lots of ideas for next year’s Christmas jumpers,’ confirms Norman.
‘And wait until you see the gingerbread house we’re making!’ Alice joins in.
‘What about adopting a donkey?’ Norman puts it to the group.
‘No!’ we all answer and he laughs.
‘We’re having prosecco,’ says Norman, handing each newcomer a glass.
‘And presents,’ says Pearl. ‘In Germany you have presents on Christmas Eve and your big family dinner. And Christmas Day is for seeing more family and friends.’
‘We bought the last turkey in the butcher’s.’
‘And you said I wouldn’t want to go into a retirement flat!’ says an older woman, about Pearl’s age, pushing forward between the couple. ‘You said I’d hate it here. It would be boring and dull. I’d be better off moving in with you, you said.’
‘Well, we just thought—’
‘More likely you wanted free babysitting.’ She sniffs and the younger couple shrug to each other. ‘Looks fabulous to me. Show me where to sign.’
‘Come in, love. Leave your baggage by the door, we’re all friends here,’ says Pearl.
‘Would you like a glass?’ Norman offers.
‘Love one! I’m Doris, by the way. Come to look at the empty flat.’
Elsie’s, we all realize. But everything changes, I muse, and Elsie is very much here with us. Pearl, clearly thinking the same, winks at me.
Doris sits next to Ron with a puff.
‘So you’ve come to see Elsie’s flat,’ says Ron. ‘I don’t suppose you like the purple Quality Street, do you?’ he asks, offering her the box.
‘As a matter of fact, they’re my favourite.’ She takes one and nudges up to him.
‘Now then, presents,’ says Pearl, with purpose, and walks towards the Christmas tree. I follow her and put the paper bag with my gingerbread hearts beside it, then step back and wrap my arms around myself. This is perfect. Almost. I try to push all thoughts of William out of my mind.
FORTY-NINE
‘I’ll start,’ says Norman. ‘From all of us, Pearl, to say thank you for organizing the best wake ever.’
‘Hear, hear!’ They raise their prosecco glasses.
‘And many more to come! Oh, no. Bugger. Not what I meant,’ says Maeve. ‘I meant many more years for us to come!’ She raises her glass.
‘And may I enjoy the ones I have with the people closest to me.’ Pearl raises her glass and toasts them back. Her eyes rest on Norman. ‘Thank you for being there for me.’
Once again I think of William, helping Maeve around the ice rink, bringing back my Christmas memories with the gingerbread-making. I hope he got his Christmas wish.
Norman hands her a large wrapped present. ‘Go on, open it,’ he says. ‘It’s a jumper, just like the ones we got in the market but with the date embroidered into it. The date our new life together started.’
‘Oh, Norman! Thank you,’ says Pearl. ‘It’s perfect!’ She holds it up to herself. Then takes off her cardigan and pulls it over her head, kissing Norman as she does. ‘Perfect!’ she repeats.
‘And this is for you, Maeve, from all of us,’ says Norman.
Maeve looks at the snow globe as she unwraps it and beams with delight at the ice skater in the falling snow.
‘Oh, and, Norman, I got you these,’ says Pearl, cheekily.
‘Lederhosen!’ Everyone cheers.
‘And I got you this CD of the choir singing in the church, John.’
‘Thank you. Violet would have loved it. I’ll play it every day,’ he assures her.
‘And I got one of these each for you,’ I say, handing round the small gingerbread hearts, each with their Christmas memory.
‘And, actually, this must be for you,’ says Pearl. ‘It was in my case. I think someone got them mixed up and hoped it would find its way to you. In fact, I made myself promise it would.’
She holds out the parcel tentatively.
I take it from her. It’s just like the one William was holding under the tree at six o’clock so I know exactly who it’s from.
FIFTY
I unwrap the tissue paper carefully, my hands shaking. The smell takes me straight back, transporting me to the shop, to the moment when we looked at each other and I knew the alchemy was there. I feel like a string of fairy lights that’s just been switched on and is shining brightly. I’m beaming.
I pull back the paper to reveal a large plain gingerbread heart, nothing on it, just the heart.
I feel ridiculously disappointed. I look at the heart again. It’s just a heart. No note, no message.
I sigh deeply, resting the heart on the table in front of me.
I look up slowly.
‘And this,’ says Pearl, holding something out to me.
‘My notebook.’ I chuckle. ‘I don’t think I’ll have much use for that any more.’ I take it from her and flick through the pages. One last look at the hours I’ve spent on trying to find my perfect match before I toss it into the bin. I roll the edges of the pages under my thumb. All the thought and planning that went into finding my perfect match. I stop at Heinrich’s page, and study the long line of ticks all the way down the edge. And then I look again. There’s another question at the bottom of the page, not in my handwriting.
‘Could you love him?’
There’s more writing over the page. But my dating journey finishes with Heinrich, and I wrote the Christmas memory list in the back of the book. So what’s this?
I turn the page and see a list, exactly the same as the one for Heinrich on the previous page.
‘Appearance?’ Beside it, there is a cross instead of a tick and a note: A little shabby, to be honest, and always wearing a ridiculous bandana.
‘First impressions?’ Another cross. Rude and obnoxious.
‘Financially secure?’ Cross. Hardly!
‘Own accommodation?’ Shared with a loving but deaf dog.
‘Gets on well with his family?’ With the help of someone special, he does now!
‘Single?’ Tick. Yes.
I read the words and reread the word ‘single’.
Then: ‘Could you love him?’ followed by There will always be a place at my Christmas table for you.
I stare at the list with all its crosses, then at the final statement. Is it … is he …?
I look at Pearl in disbelief. She raises an eyebrow. ‘Well?’
‘I think he may just be trying to tell me
something!’ I laugh. ‘That he ticks none of my boxes, we have barely anything in common, apart from our love of baking but …’
She picks up the gingerbread heart off the table and hands it to me. ‘He’s giving you his heart,’ Pearl says quietly. ‘I knew you’d found your perfect match when you arrived out there. It just took you a while to realize it. But you had to do that for yourself.’ Her eyes are twinkling mischievously.
FIFTY-ONE
I’ve got a lump in my throat. I grab my bag and fumble for a tissue, putting my hand on something hard in there. I pull it out. Heinrich’s ring. I hold it in one hand and look at the plain gingerbread heart in the other, then remember William’s perfect Christmas dinner table: ‘To be with the ones I love.’
Is he saying he loves me too? I look down at the heart and my own starts to soar. My hand tightens around the ring box.
‘I have to go,’ I say, quietly at first. ‘I have to go,’ I say louder, and back out of the room. I have to go! shouts the voice in my head.
‘Connie?’ Di asks.
‘Go where?’ asks Norman.
‘Back! I have to go back!’ I say.
And all their faces break into smiles.
‘Go, go!’ shouts Pearl, hugging me, then practically pushing me towards the door. ‘Go and get your man!’ She’s crying and I’m crying.
Suddenly my phone rings with a WhatsApp call. It’s Sam. ‘Hi, Sam,’ I say quickly, brushing away the tears.
‘Mum, are you okay? Do you need me to come home?’
‘No, I’m fine. Don’t come home. I won’t be here.’ I beam.
‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘Back to Germany!’ There’s another ripple of excitement in the room.
‘Back to Germany? To be with Heinrich?’ he asks.
‘But I thought she’d decided Heinrich wasn’t the one for her?’ asks Norman.
‘Not Heinrich,’ Maeve, Pearl and Di say together. ‘William!’
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow and explain,’ I say to my son, over the noise.
‘Okay, Mum. And you’re happy, yes? You found him!’
‘I think so.’
‘Then go and get him!’ shouts Sam. ‘Happy Christmas!’ He and Amy wave into the screen.
‘Happy Christmas,’ call my friends around me, waving.
And with that I need no other encouragement.
‘I’ll drive you to the airport. It’ll be quicker,’ says Norman. ‘We’ll take the minibus.’ It’s covered with tinsel and paper chains.
FIFTY-TWO
I stand at the big front door and ring the bell. At first, there’s no answer. I look up at the tall building. It’s snowing hard. I ring the bell again. Then the door opens. Tall and in his socks, Heinrich looks surprised to see me.
‘Connie? But I thought – I thought you’d gone. I thought you’d decided …’
I smile at him. ‘I forgot something,’ I say. He looks dumbfounded.
‘Who is it?’ I hear a voice from inside the apartment. A voice I recognize. I smile.
‘Happy Christmas, Heinrich.’ I reach up and kiss him, put the small black box into his hand and squeeze it shut. He looks down at it. ‘Use it wisely, on someone you love,’ I say, and turn to go.
‘Connie?’ I turn back. ‘You too! Happy Christmas.’ He smiles and waves, and I know I’ve done the right thing. I walk away from the New Town, towards the bridge, terrified and excited all at the same time.
Now I’m standing in the shadows, by the bins in the alleyway, looking at the shop, closed now for Christmas. The snow is falling heavily, like paper doilies, lit by the orange glow of the street lantern. The cobbles are covered. There are people skating on the ice rink and the market is buzzing. I’m dying for another look at the gingerbread town. But not now. I look at the door, from my safe distance, shaking with nerves. I take a deep breath, and feel the tickle of snowflakes on my face. This is me stepping out from behind my computer screen and living in the real world, in the now. Because I’m here and, right now, there is nothing else I can think about. I look at the door and step forward, when suddenly I hear voices. One in particular I recognize. It’s William. I step back into the shadows. I hear him giving directions, then laughing, and shiver with excitement. That laugh! It makes me smile and want to laugh and cry at the same time. I hear a second laugh. His son! Then they come into view, carrying a Christmas tree between them. William reaches for his keys in his pocket, opens the door and they start to negotiate the tree through the door to the flat upstairs. I step forward to offer to help, hold the door or carry the tree, when I hear another laugh and an extra pair of hands is reaching out to help with the tree. I stop, and don’t even dare to breathe.
It’s Marta, dressed beautifully, in a baby-blue wraparound coat and white hat highlighting her beautiful blonde hair. They get the tree through the door, where Marta stands smiling, dusting off her hands. My heart is crashing around inside my chest, throwing itself against its walls. Did I really think I could jump on a plane, fly out here and he’d be waiting for me? Did that gingerbread heart really come from him or was Pearl just trying to make me feel better? Or did he think I wasn’t interested as I hadn’t replied? Or was it all just a lie?
Suddenly he appears again, the tree inside the front door and his son shouting about getting it upstairs. Fritz is barking. William comes to stand in front of Marta, takes hold of her elbow and says something to her that I can’t hear. I don’t want to – I just want to get out of here. Then he kisses her cheek, and I feel as if my heart has been ripped into tiny pieces, smashed like the polar bear into thousands of pieces. I feel so foolish. My cheeks burn, as do my eyes, and I shut them tight, wishing I was anywhere but here.
I hear her laugh, then him. Noah calls for his dad to get a move on: he wants to decorate the tree. A cold wet nose is pushed into the palm of my hand. Oh, no! Not now! My eyes fly open. Fritz is wagging his tail.
‘Hi there,’ I say quietly, and rub his head. ‘Now, go home,’ I instruct, and point. ‘Go on, go home.’ But he just barks at me. ‘Go on,’ I encourage him and step further down the alleyway, backing once again into the bins. This time, I managed to steady myself and not fall. If only my heart had learned the same lesson. Next time I’ll stick to a list. Next time? I laugh at myself. There won’t be a next time. No. This is me done. Just like ice skating, it hurts too much when you fall. I’m not falling again.
Fritz nips my coat sleeve and tugs it, as if playing.
‘No!’ I try not to but a laugh comes out anyway. It’s a mix of pleasure and nerves. ‘Go home!’ I try to be firm but the bubble of laughter rises up in me again.
And he pulls me a little further forward, under the lantern, as I try to pull away. And as he does so, William sees me. My stomach lurches and my body tingles. I’m wishing he hadn’t noticed me, but he has. And in that moment, all I can see is him, with the snow falling around him, and it’s a moment I will never forget. Just like the memories we brought to the gingerbread town, this one is etched into my heart. He cocks his head. His mouth is tugging into a smile. I stand rooted to the spot, despite Fritz’s efforts to take me home.
William straightens himself, looks left and then right, no doubt checking to see if my friends are with me. Then his smile widens and he walks towards me.
‘Oh, no,’ I say, backing away. I don’t want Marta to see me. My eyeballs sting even more. I take another step back and this time I feel myself lose balance as I hit the bins and start to fall. A hand catches me before I hit the ground and pulls me upright. He stares at me, and all I want to do is fall into his arms. Our eyes flicker from lips to eyes and back again and I want so much to kiss him. But I can’t. He’s not free. And I have to leave.
‘You got my message! You came,’ he says.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.’
He frowns. ‘Why not?’
He’s still holding my arms and I don’t want him to let go, because I will be letting go of everything I want. But he�
�s not mine to have.
‘I …’
Noah calls from the shop. ‘Papa, come on! Let’s get the tree up!’
William smiles. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, and we’re putting up the tree. Come and join us!’
I shake my head, tears filling my eyes. He got his Christmas wish.
‘I should go. Happy Christmas,’ I say, and start to walk away.
‘Wait!’ He follows me and grabs my arm.
‘You did get my gift?’ He’s confused.
‘That’s why I came,’ I say, my voice hoarse.
‘Then, why leave again? Didn’t you come here … for me?’
Tears slide down my face, mingling with the snowflakes falling there. ‘I came back, because I thought … I thought …’
‘We have alchemy?’ He smiles a lopsided smile.
I nod, and this time let out a little sob.
He puts his finger under my chin and lifts it. ‘That is exactly what we have,’ he says softly. ‘And I always want to feel like this.’
‘But Marta? She’s here with you and Noah. You have your Christmas wish.’
He throws back his head and then nods, understanding. ‘Everything changes, Connie. Nothing stays the same for ever. We can’t go back, we can only remember the good times and go forward.’
I have no idea what he’s talking about.
‘Marta and I have talked. We are better as friends. We share a son and we want the best for him. She has dropped him off to spend Christmas Eve with me and my father.’ He points down the lane to where Marta is getting into her car. ‘She’ll be back for him in the morning. We have agreed it’s important he has us both in his life.’
He holds my hands. ‘She knows I can never give up the baking. It gets under your skin.’ He smiles. ‘I can’t sell the shop. Someone taught me that. It’s in me.’
‘And now maybe Noah has found it too.’ I smile and sniff.