Love, Lies and Lemon Cake

by Jayne Bartholomew

  “So… there’s no cost, you get a high return…”

  “… and the only thing we spend is time. It’s the best hobby ever”

  Hilary picked up her mug and viewed her visitor with new respect. “Tell me more?”

  Mark lay on a sun lounger by the pool of the exclusive hotel he and Tamara were staying in and idly thought about what the day would bring. So far the trip had provided little more in the way of entertainment than watching his fiancée endure endless beauty treatments and spa visits. Today she had been wrapped in seaweed, stuck in a steam room for a scary amount of time and had just booked an appointment to have hot stones placed on her back. When she wasn’t being primped and preened she was either inside with cucumber on her eyelids or somewhere outside deep in the shade with her sun block. He was failing to understand why she had insisted on going abroad when she could have booked into a spa back home for the same experience.

  “Darling, where do you fancy going for lunch?” Mark flicked through the folder that had been presented to them on arrival. “Do you think it would be nice to try the Christmas dinner they’re doing at the main restaurant? Go for something a bit traditional?”

  Tamara glared at him. “Are you mad? Do you know how many carbs are in one of those things? How would it look if I was pictured at a restaurant that was doing something as mundane as a turkey dinner? God, Mark, sometimes I think that you really don’t care about me at all.” With that she burst into tears and went to fling herself on the bed.

  He knew that the expectation was that he would go and comfort her, tell her that she was the most important thing on the planet and then buy her something expensive to apologise for whatever it was that he was supposed to have done wrong. Her tears would magically disappear and they would probably spend the next few hours having sex. Depending on how many calories she wanted to burn up it could be quite an energetic experience.

  Depressingly he found the prospect of another four days with little Miss Moody-Mudpack something he was not looking forward to, but if he didn’t play his part then she really would make his time with her a living hell. For the first time since becoming engaged he started seriously thinking about what his future would be like if he stayed with Tamara.

  He was struggling to find any positives so lay back and thought of England instead.

  When Edward arrived back from the last hospital visit before the New Year, Geoff and Penny were both in the kitchen. Geoff was comfortably sitting back in one of the kitchen chairs, holding a bottle of beer, and Penny was laughing so hard she was wiping away tears.

  As pleased as he was that she seemed to be coping so well with the stress of Christmas, Edward couldn’t help but feel that she was enjoying herself a little too much.

  Penny’s face was slightly flushed as she beamed at her husband. “Look what Geoff’s given us for Christmas - it’s a dishwasher!”

  Edward stepped back to take in the chrome and steel magnificence that was the state-of-the-art dishwasher before him. “Geoff, that’s too much. I mean, it’s so generous!”

  Dismissing the thanks with a slight wave, Geoff drained the last of his beer and stood up to leave. “Not a bit of it, it’s a joint gift from mum and me to say thank you for everything. It was a dream to install so you’re good to go. I must nip off too, I’m meeting someone and I’d better not be late.” He gave Penny a hug and a kiss, nodded to Edward and left. Edward felt another flush of annoyance but couldn’t work out why.

  “Isn’t this great? No more grubby dishes after Christmas dinner, we can relax and put our feet up for once!” Penny moved her chair around so she could see it better.

  “Yes, not having to do the washing up is marvellous, but it’s such an expensive gift. What are we giving them?”

  “Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. Ruth and I talked about it and she was adamant she didn’t want anything that she’d have to store away. She’s… running out of storage space. I’ve got such a good feeling about Christmas dinner this year; it’s going to be amazing!” Penny looked at the clock. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the church for the choral practice?”

  Edward sagged. “I’d forgotten about that. Damn, I’d better go. See you after midnight mass then. Will you stay up?”

  “Absolutely.”

  It was while she was in the shower that Penny started to remember all the little things she’d forgotten to buy, do or cook. A slow drip, drip, drip of panic that chilled her faster than the hot water from the shower could heat her. As supportive as she was of her husband’s commitments she drew the line at joining him for midnight mass when there were guests coming over the next day. As she dried herself the most pressing issue was that she had completely forgotten to put a wash on for the last few days and was therefore out of clean underwear.

  Penny grabbed at the Agent Provocateur package that Ruth had given her and held up the expensive lingerie. It was her size and she could probably wear it safely, secure in the knowledge that Edward never noticed what kind of underwear she wore. If pressed he would probably come up with “grey”.

  The bra and French knickers set were actually rather cute, although Ruth had been quite correct; it was not something you could donate to a jumble sale.

  Lacking the time to do anything inventive with her hair she brushed it back off her face, threw on the silk dressing gown given to her from Babs and Luke and headed downstairs with an arm full of dirty laundry.

  The bottle of champagne called to her and she thought it might be a nice surprise for Edward to come home to something chilled and fizzy. It would definitely make the next few hours of baking whiz by. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop and she brought out two of the proper champagne glasses, leaving one on the table waiting for her husband.

  For no better reason than she liked the name, Penny started to mix up a batch of extra gooey chocolate mess buns which she planned to offer up with tea in the afternoon. It was amazing how people could be semi-prone and groaning about having eaten too much one moment and then suddenly find space for a nibble after an hour. There were always a few extra mouths that just “happened” to be passing, too.

  Penny was so engrossed she didn’t notice her robe coming loose; the darkness outside turned the window into a mirror and all she could see was her own reflection. The man at the end of the front path went unnoticed.

  Her glass having become inexplicably empty, she quickly topped it up before moving on to the old favourite of sausage rolls. As she went, dirty dishes and spoons were happily thrown into the dishwasher.

  When the washing machine beeped to let her know it had finished, she took the damp pile of underwear up to the spare room where she kept her airers. She emerged moments later with the dirty towels and threw them into the washing machine with an extra glug of fabric conditioner.

  She took a quick sip from the glass on the table and moved on to making up a batch of vanilla and orange mousse; a simple recipe but another crowd pleaser. Mousse done, dishwasher on, she took a pensive sip of champagne while trying to remember if she’d stocked up on enough loo roll for the festive season. Idly she licked the mousse off the wooden spoon she’d been using. She probably had enough and the shops were really only shut for one day, she was sure she’d be OK.

  Tiredness caught up with Penny and she headed off for bed. She left the champagne glasses on the table and hoped that Edward would call up to her if he came in soon or at least enjoy his glass if he didn’t. Strangely there didn’t seem to be much left in the bottle…

  She completely missed the sight of her husband, frozen at the gate, watching guiltily as a siren in sexy underwear licked something off a wooden spoon. He was transfixed; it was as if he was watching her for the first time.

  He crept into the house and saw two champagne glasses and a near empty bottle of reserve Clicquot. To steady his nerves he finished the full glass in one gulp and then had a second to welcome in Christmas Day. Edward washed up the glasses, put the champagne bottle in the recycling bin and
went up to bed trying his hardest not to wonder if the glass had been left for him or left by a previous caller. By this time Penny had taken off her lingerie and was in her warmest pyjamas, dozing in a happy fizz-filled half sleep.

  “How was the service?” she asked.

  “Fine, the usual, hymns, prayers, hurrah it’s midnight. Did you have a good evening?”

  “Hmm, did some baking but was a bit naughty and opened some champagne that Mum gave me. I left you some?”

  “Ah, thank you, darling.” And thank you God, he thought, I was worried she was having an affair for a moment. “You know, I saw you while you were by the window, we may need to consider getting blinds by the way, and you looked awfully sexy…” He speculatively kissed his wife’s neck and was met with thick flannel material and a muffled snore.

  Edward curled around his sleeping wife and, finding there was less of her to snuggle next to, wondered if she’d been losing weight deliberately or if her current obsession with the laptop was helping her forget about biscuits. He really hoped she wasn’t trying to do it for Geoff.

  His last thought before he fell asleep that night was of Penny standing by the window licking mousse off a wooden spoon.

  Edward’s first thought as the alarm went off in the morning was that he was going to be late for the first of the Christmas day services.

  He had a quick shower and then raced around the bedroom in a whirlwind of black socks and boxer shorts. He gently woke Penny, who groaned and tried to bury her head under the duvet, and then rushed out to the church.

  Occasionally he resented having to be on call so often; granted, Christmas was one of the happier services but increasingly he found himself wondering when he was allowed time for himself. The Christmas Day service went well, all things considered. There hadn’t been too many crying babies and the donkey that was on loan for the nativity scene had at least waited until the end of the event before urinating on the frankincense and myrrh.

  He walked back up the path to the vicarage feeling like a rather tired yo-yo. He ached to take some time off but wasn’t too sure what he’d do with it given the chance. Although he now had a few suggestions to run past Penny if the moment seemed appropriate.

  Tea lights in an assortment of clear jam jars lined the path to the front door and cast warmth over the fading light of the day. A large green wreath adorned the door itself and was crowned with a velvet red bow. It looked beautiful.

  The first person he saw when he walked into the kitchen was Geoff. He was twirling Penny along to the radio and chatting to her as they danced. It was as though he had entered the wrong house.

  Laughter rang out from the lounge: his father he guessed, probably trying to find out how old Hilary was before spending the rest of the day flirting with her. Some things sadly never changed.

  The wind caught the door behind him and it slammed shut, disturbing the impromptu dance routine.

  Unwilling to appear as rude as he was feeling, Edward contorted his face into what he hoped was a smile. “Hello, Geoff, I thought you were working today?” he asked, hopefully.

  “I was but my shift was cancelled and your lovely wife offered to feed me. Your home looks great.”

  “Thank you.” Edward spotted a bottle of reserve Clicquot champagne on the table, the same vintage that Penny had drunk the night before. “Champagne?”

  “Just something to say thanks for having me.” Geoff’s phone started ringing. “Sorry, I’m not at work but still on call, I’d better take this.” He disappeared into the hallway.

  “Isn’t that the same type that you said your mother had given you?” asked Edward.

  Penny glanced over. “Looks like it. Shall we save it for when everyone’s gone or do you think we should be good hosts and open for everyone?”

  “Let’s save it.” Edward told himself that all supermarkets sold champagne, there was nothing unusual about two bottles that looked the same. There was no reason to be suspicious. He could get through the meal without being unpleasant to his guest. Penny was a loyal wife and he had no reason to be suspicious.

  Geoff came back into the kitchen. “False alarm. Someone left a suspicious package on a train that turned out to be a box of mince pies. Can I help you with anything, Penny?”

  “That’s fine, Geoff,” cut in Edward quickly, “you sit down and make yourself comfortable and I’ll help my wife.”

  “Right you are.”

  Watching him leave Edward prayed for strength, courage, and for Geoff to get the dry cuts of turkey.

  “Hello, darling.” Andy sat on the bed next to Laura. “Suzie and I thought we’d join you for lunch today. Seems only fair really considering the number of Christmas lunches you’ve made for me over the years.” Andy laid Suzie in the crook of Laura’s left arm and moved into the chair next to her.

  “Mum’s gone to the vicar’s for lunch; I think she understood that I wanted our first Christmas together as a family, just the three of us.” He looked around the ward at the tired decorations and back to the little plastic tree he’d put on the locker before reaching into a bag for a store-bought sandwich and a bottle of formula milk.

  “Just so you know, Suzie had clothes for Christmas. Nothing you’d disapprove of, nothing too short and absolutely no sequins. Promise. I gave your mum a brooch that Luke picked out from his shop after he swore that it would match her colour scheme as she’s an Autumn. Anyway, she thought it was great, which is the main thing.

  “Suzie’s nursery is total Christmas, just as you like it, and we’ve got a Christmas tree in the lounge by the window. Suzie lies for hours just staring at the lights. The rest of the house, well, we didn’t really get much further than that. Without your enthusiasm it’s not really the same. To be honest, without you prodding me and hitting me with a pillow, some days it’s hard enough just to get out of bed.” He put one of Laura’s fingers in Suzie’s hand and the little baby held on to it. “I miss you, sweetheart.”

  January

  The snow, promised by most of the popular newspapers, had yet to materialise, but the air was so cold it was biting. A light mist hung around the village, curling through gardens and clinging, with dank tendrils, to any washing that had been optimistically left hanging outside. Despite the gloomy weather, the dark foreboding skies and the vague sense of anti-climax following the Christmas rush, tonight was a big night for the village of Lower Hupswallop. Tonight, anyone who was anyone was going wassailing.

  Traditionally, and wassailing is all about tradition, the village did not publicise the event but chose to gather in the Feisty Ferret on the old Twelfth Night and do what needed to be done without having to explain the proceedings to outsiders. However, Pam had a mortgage to pay and so had advertised the event in the local paper. The pub was packed.

  The chalkboard on the wall, which usually listed the day’s specials, had been turned over for a brief history lesson on what wassailing was all about. Dating back centuries, wassailing is believed to scare off evil spirits from apple orchards and wake up the trees to promote a good harvest.

  Of course, in these enlightened and modern times, the majority of those attending would have said that they went for the warm spiced cider, or the group sing-song around the bonfire. Naturally they didn’t believe in evil spirits. But for the others, the mildly superstitious, the lovers of traditions, historians, the farmers who couldn’t afford to be wrong and the all-out bat wing wielding devotees of any ancient arts that allowed them to dress up, tonight was incredibly important.

  When Pam had first looked into buying the pub she was gently, but firmly, advised that the wassailers didn’t have to start or finish the event at the Feisty Ferret but that they had done so for as long as records had been kept. The unspoken message was that it wouldn’t just be the apple crop that suffered if the tradition changed. Pam didn’t mind, in fact she wanted to be a part of something.

  The pub started filling up early with families ordering snacks to keep the children occupied while they waited
for the entertainment. At around seven o’clock the morris dancers trickled in, some nipping into the bathrooms to change shyly out of office suits. The more traditional brought their own flagons, which Pam quickly filled with free beer.

  The wassail queen was resplendent in a flowing gown and cape with ivy drawn on her face in black eye liner; but it was the wassail king that really caught the eye. Easily recognisable as Charlie the butcher he was tall anyway, but in his traditional morris outfit and a hat that boasted pheasant feathers and ferret skull he was an impressive crowd pleaser.

  Word that Pam would be supplying free beer to any traditionalist in authentically old outfits had spread and dotted around the bar area Mark could make out two Vikings and a group of characters from a Chaucer novel. He grinned; he and James had been wassailing since they were little boys and he was really excited to be able to initiate Pam’s children to the tradition.

  Four locals that had showed musical talent had been press ganged into fiddlers and a drummer. A recent, particularly virulent virus had decommissioned the flautist but one of the Vikings had gamely brought along his old recorder.

  Once the morris dancers were suitably lubricated the crowd surged outside to watch them jingle and smack sticks together.

  A call for responsible adults rang out and eight lit torches were distributed. Sam was first in line and Mark moved a little closer to him in case of problems; Pam felt a rush of warmth inside her at his thoughtfulness. A few of the older, more experienced in the crowd had brought their own battery powered torches.

  The crowd, led by the wassail king and queen followed the procession to the apple orchard, serenaded by the musicians. From the back of the line only the primal beat of the drum could be heard with any clarity.

  In the orchard a huge bonfire was already ablaze and people huddled around it for warmth. Kate and James were holding hands with their backs to the fire, watching the entertainment. Occasionally a loud noise would make her jump but she stayed close to James and saw to it that she always had a clear view of her surroundings. She would not be so easily caught out by Ryan in a hurry.