Season's Meetings

by Amy Dunne

  “Sorry?”

  “I need to tell you something you might not want to hear.”

  “Go on.” Holly nibbled her bottom lip.

  “If it was me I’d want to know.”

  “What is it?”

  Managing to keep both a serious expression and tone, Catherine said, “You’ve got icing smeared on your forehead.”

  Holly’s hands flew to her head and, upon finding the drying icing, began rubbing it vigorously. “Jeez, you had me stressing it was something serious.”

  “You should’ve seen your face.” Catherine wriggled her eyebrows and grinned.

  “You think that was pretty funny, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly spotless yourself.”

  Catherine’s grin faltered. “Oh. Where?”

  Holly raised a hand and touched one of Catherine’s cheeks and then the other. A cold, sticky residue clung to her skin. “There,” Holly said. She jumped back and waved her fingers. They were covered in icing.

  “You…” Catherine was speechless. She wiped her cheek and stared at the drying clots of paste.

  Holly grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You should see your face.” She blobbed her tongue out to add insult to injury. “And that was funny.”

  Catherine reached for the bowl of icing and submerged both hands. Holly gasped and watched with big eyes. With the thick goo covering her fingers, Catherine slowly withdrew her hands.

  “Catherine,” Holly said. She took a step backward. “It was a joke. Don’t overreact.”

  Catherine had no intention whatsoever of backing down. She stepped closer. She’d exact her revenge on Holly and it would be sickly sweet, quite literally. The only problem was, she could feel the tightening of the substance on her skin. It was drying too quickly.

  “Say you’re sorry.” Catherine eased closer.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think you mean it.”

  “I do mean it.”

  “I don’t think it’s sincere. I think you’re saying it because you’re afraid I’m going to get you with my sticky fingers.” Damn it! It sounded so much better in my head.

  Holly stopped moving. One of her eyebrows arched, and a second later, she burst out laughing.

  Using the momentary lack of defence, Catherine pounced, smearing her sticky fingers not only on Holly’s face, but also parts of her neck and possibly even an ear. When she stepped away, she couldn’t help but laugh. Holly was covered, and the pissed-off look made it all the more adorable.

  “You should never start something you can’t finish,” Catherine said smugly. She walked over to the sink to wash her hands. As the hot soapy suds incapacitated her hands, she sensed movement behind her a fraction of a second too late—

  An evil laugh filled her ears as a mound of icing plopped on top of her head. Holly rubbed it into her hair with light fingers. Holly’s stealthy footsteps had been hidden by the radio and running faucet. How could she have been so foolish?

  Holly’s voice whispered in her ear, “You should never turn your back during a food fight. Big mistake. And you should know, I always finish what I start, Catherine.”

  *

  After washing her hair for the fifth time, the remaining granular traces of the icing finally washed away. Holly had graciously let her use the bathroom first, which Catherine took to be some kind of unspoken apology.

  Today seemed to be full of firsts for her. Buying Christmas presents and wrapping them, decorating a tree, building a gingerbread house, and having a glucose-fuelled food fight. Was it possible for a person to change so quickly? Not only in her likes and dislikes but also her personality? There was no denying she felt happier than she had in years. Holly seemed to nourish the playful and adventurous side of her personality which had long been dormant. It was as if she was thinking and feeling from a completely new perspective—a colourful and cheerful one.

  She picked up her icing-stained clothes and headed into the bedroom.

  Holly stood waiting. “Are you done in there?” She scratched her neck and face.

  Catherine nodded. “You okay?”

  “It turns out the icing is seriously itchy and aggravating when it dries on skin,” Holly said. She stripped mid-sprint as she rushed into the bathroom and closed the door.

  After a few minutes of deciding what to wear, Catherine chose a pair of black trousers, a fitted white shirt with pink stripes, and a black jumper. She dressed so quickly, she could’ve given Superman a run for his money. The last thing she wanted was for Holly to walk out and see her in an unflattering compromising position. She need not have worried. By the time Holly eventually appeared, Catherine had had enough time to dry her hair and apply a little makeup.

  “You look great.” Holly’s gaze slowly travelled over Catherine’s body.

  “Thanks. I’ll go spend some time with Kimmy before we head out.” It was true she felt bad for leaving Kimmy again, but her main reason for leaving the bedroom was her overzealous libido. Seeing Holly standing there, dripping wet with nothing more than a towel to cover her, gave a powerful jolt of arousal—which wasn’t ideal, considering in less than an hour she’d be standing inside a church.

  Kimmy greeted her in the usual rush of energy but still gave no bow. “We’ve twenty minutes to play, and then it’s out to do your business and back into bed.”

  Kimmy seemed to grasp the gist of what she was saying because she picked up her squeaky bone and trotted over to Catherine. With a little growl, which sounded more like a purr, she dropped the bone and sat on her haunches. Choosing the less sodden end, Catherine flung the bone and waited for Kimmy to bring it back. It was a simple thing: her throwing it and Kimmy retrieving it, but it didn’t diminish either of their enjoyment. Eventually, Kimmy surrendered herself—collapsing in a dramatic heap beside Catherine and nudging in close for a fuss.

  “You can’t be tired already,” Catherine said disapprovingly. She tickled behind one of the furry ears. “Mind you, I suppose the tinsel escapade may have worn you out.”

  Kimmy closed her eyes and sprawled out in a most unusual fashion. Her back legs spread out behind her body like a frog’s legs. It was quite comical. Catherine had never seen a dog lie like this before, but from all appearances, Kimmy was comfortable.

  “What’s going to happen to you?” Catherine asked quietly.

  That question had been reverberating in her mind, refusing to be ignored. The relationship between the dog and her was developing no matter how much she tried to back away or put up barriers. And she was trying, because she sensed an immense amount of hurt on the horizon. She was getting too emotionally invested in Kimmy. In three days’ time, Kimmy would return to Fiona’s care and they would probably never see the little fluffball again. The realisation was deeply unsettling, but there was no other option. Catherine was not in a position to own a dog. She lived in an apartment with no garden and worked far too many hours a day. The guilt of selfishly inflicting that life on Kimmy, especially knowing it would do no good for her in the long run, made the decision slightly more bearable. A family out there somewhere would cherish Kimmy and shower her with the love and affection she deserved. To think otherwise was too upsetting.

  “Penny for them,” Holly said. She was stood behind the sofa.

  Catherine jumped with surprise. “Pardon?”

  “Penny for your thoughts. You look troubled.”

  Catherine ran a hand down Kimmy’s back, tracing the natural parting of her fur. “I’m going to miss her when we leave.”

  “Try not to think about it yet. We’ve got a few more days left to enjoy our time together.” Holly sat next to Kimmy and gave her a big fuss. Her expression mirrored Catherine’s melancholy mood.

  She wore jeans and a white, snug-fitting jumper. Her honey-coloured hair fell in heavy ringlets past her shoulders. Fresh faced with a healthy glow, she wore only mascara and lipstick.

  “You look beautiful,” Catheri
ne said. “I think icing might make for a great exfoliation cream, because you’re glowing. In a healthy way, I mean, not in a toxic or radioactive way. It suits you.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Holly smiled. She stood and patted her thigh. “Come on, Kimmy. Time to go out and do your business.” Kimmy leapt from the sofa, tail wagging vigorously as she trotted after Holly’s heels.

  Catherine watched as they disappeared into the kitchen and felt the bitter taste of melancholy again—only stronger, as if Holly and Kimmy hadn’t simply left the room but were, in fact, gone. Never to return.

  The assault of grief astounded her and served as a stark reminder that playing happy family was all well and good, but the familiar haunting loneliness waited in the wings, ready to swoop down and stake its claim on her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. If she had one wish, she’d choose to capture this break from her mundane life and treasure it forever. An endless supply of cosy fires, games of fetch, slobbery doggy kisses, festive cheer, laughter, and Holly’s tactile flirtations would make for a content life indeed.

  *

  Being an atheist didn’t bode well for a carol service in a church. In fact, the last slightly religious building Catherine had entered was the crematorium for Granny Birch’s funeral. As they made their way along the main street, an uncomfortable tension settled across her chest and shoulders. She felt like a fraud, deliberately infringing on an occasion precious to others.

  Once again, she had no choice other than to wear Holly’s wellies, which, unsurprisingly, didn’t go with her outfit. She’d considered wearing something else on her feet, but the prospect of falling on her backside in front of the whole population of Athegither was enough to make her see sense. As they approached the iron gates, streams of people coming from different directions surrounded them. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, of course, but they were friendly enough to the outsiders, waving hello in greeting or wishing Catherine and Holly a Merry Christmas. When they reached the threshold, a young boy thrust a worn hymn book into Catherine’s hands. He grinned at her and, a second later, brandished another book, and lunged for the person behind her. He obviously wanted to get his job, and possibly the service, over as quickly as possible. A slightly older girl with auburn ringlets falling to her shoulders shyly presented Holly with hers.

  They continued to follow the queue of people and eventually shuffled inside the church. It was packed solid, and the heat from so many people already bordered on stifling. People of various ages filled rows upon rows of wooden benches to the brink. An aisle of worn, red carpet ran up the centre, splitting the benches into two sides. It led to the front where stone steps led to a raised area with a stone table.

  Feeling self-conscious and totally out of her depth, Catherine looked to Holly for guidance. As if sensing her stress, Holly gave her hand a gentle squeeze and led her to the right-hand side. Eventually, they found a precious part of the exterior wall that hadn’t already been claimed. They leant against it, looking out over the benches to the table, candles, and statues at the front. Catherine felt a little calmer and settled into a favourite pastime of people watching.

  An excited buzz filled the room: quiet chatter and laughter, with the occasional cough or sneeze thrown in the mix. People smiled and seemed genuinely happy to be there. The children fell into two categories: the wide-eyed lot, brimming with excitement and bodily energy they were restraining—only just—so as not to slip up at the last minute in front of Santa. The other category of children seemed tired and grumpy, clinging to caregivers with heavy-lidded eyes and pouting bottom lips. Perhaps a few sleepless nights leading up to the big night itself had left them exhausted.

  “Okay?” Holly whispered, giving a gentle nudge with her elbow.

  Catherine nodded and turned to the front where some people were setting up seats. Seven people sat in a semicircle, took out varying musical instruments, and began fiddling with them to make sure they were in tune. A stir spread throughout the congregation. The man next to Holly opened his hymn book and ruffled through the pages.

  The room darkened as some of the lights were turned off. Three large candle displays glowed at the front, and rows upon rows of lit tea lights danced inside red holders. Several large pillar candles stood next to the stone table, three purple, one pink, and the final one white.

  A man—presumably the clergy—stepped up to the wooden lectern and spoke. “It’s wonderful to see so many familiar, and unfamiliar, faces here this evening. In a wee moment we’ll get started with the carols, but I want to remind you there’s Mass straight after this service and again at midnight.” He glanced around at the musicians. “Right. Without further ado, please turn to our first carol, which I believe is ‘Silent Night.’” He stepped away from the microphone and everyone in the church stood.

  Catherine turned toward Holly. Everyone seemed friendly, but she wasn’t sure what was expected of her. Carols were one thing but Mass? Would Holly expect them to stay? Catherine wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.

  Music started up, and Holly smiled, warm and reassuring. Catherine felt some of her unease melt away. Glancing at the number in Holly’s hymn book, Catherine quickly found the words in time to join in with the first verse. The voices from the congregation sang loud and mostly in tune. Sneaking a glance around, Catherine saw the closeness and love surrounding her. Families squeezed together sharing books, hands being held, shoulders leaning against shoulders, tapping of hands and feet—but more than anything else, she saw loving smiles. The tight quarters and uncomfortable heat didn’t seem to dampen anyone’s spirits. In fact, Catherine guessed most people here wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

  It was a curious thing.

  At the next verse, Catherine joined in once more. Her voice immediately disappeared into the ether, harmonising with everybody else’s. It felt good, like she was a part of something big, something she couldn’t put into words. She’d always believed Christmas was about receiving gifts, some of which you didn’t want or like, and gorging yourself sick on vast piles of extravagant food and drink. This experience had proven her cynical beliefs wrong. There was definitely more to Christmas than she’d originally thought, and she was determined to experience as much of it as possible. As they started the next carol, she sang with genuine gusto.

  *

  The Inn was full, so solidly packed with bodies Catherine nearly suggested they leave.

  As if reading her thoughts, Holly said, “We have to show our faces. It’d be rude not to, especially after all Fiona and Alistair have done for us.”

  Feeling suitably berated, Catherine gave a nod and followed as closely behind Holly as humanly possible. After a few seconds of squeezing past people, Holly reached behind her and took hold of Catherine’s hand tethering them together. They’d held hands a few times before, but this time Catherine noticed their hands fitted together perfectly, as if they were made for each other.

  The raucous sound of laughter, good-natured shouting, and faint background music filled the room. Catherine hadn’t been inside the bar area before, and she wouldn’t get much of an opportunity to check it out this evening, either. It was far too busy to see anything other than the occasional bit of floor and a fleeting glance of a wall or the bar.

  Unlike most bars Catherine had been in, there were no tables or seats provided, although she assumed this wasn’t always the case. Tonight was obviously one of the busiest, and therefore standing room only would accommodate as many patrons as possible. After the church service finished, there would probably be a further influx of customers. Catherine hoped they might be gone by then, not because the atmosphere wasn’t friendly, but because she felt a little claustrophobic, rather guilty for leaving Kimmy alone, and desperate to spend some time alone with Holly.

  Holly glanced back and said something, but Catherine couldn’t hear. She pointed to her ear and moved closer.

  “What drink?” Holly asked. She added the universal hand gesture for drinking.

&n
bsp; “Red wine please,” Catherine shouted.

  Holly smiled and turned back to the bar. A gap opened up, and like lightning, Holly filled it. A few moments later, she relinquished her hold of Catherine’s hand and presented a large glass of wine in one hand and a small glass tumbler with a generous shot of amber liquid in the other. Regaining her balance after someone accidentally shoved past her, Catherine held both glasses steady and changed her stance so she wouldn’t be knocked so easily. When Holly moved away from the bar, she held a second glass of wine and an identically filled glass tumbler.

  Catherine led them to the farthest end of the room hoping there might be more space. There wasn’t, so they hovered by the door leading to the restaurant and fire exit.

  “Thank you,” Catherine said loudly. She raised both glasses.

  “The whiskey’s from Fiona. Everyone gets a wee festive dram, apparently.”

  Catherine gave a nod. That’s probably why it was so bloody busy in here. She decided to forgo the whiskey for the moment and concentrate on the wine instead. Trying to hide her snobbery, she lifted the glass and breathed the wine’s bouquet in through her nose before taking a sip. It exceeded her expectation, so she drank some more.

  Conversation was limited because of the noise, which led to them both drinking their wine far more quickly than advisable. A familiar warmth surged through Catherine’s body. Holly’s cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes narrow, as she followed suit and drained her glass.

  “Shall we drink this and go get some takeaway?” Holly asked. She raised her tumbler a little haphazardly, managing to narrowly avoid spilling the contents.

  “Okay.” Catherine lifted the glass to her mouth, but stopped when Holly tugged her arm.

  “Like this.” Holly interlinked her arm through Catherine’s like people do at weddings. “A toast. To the best Christmas ever!”

  Catherine snorted a laugh. Wow. Holly was tipsy and her loud toast had drawn attention from the people surrounding them. They were all smiling and a few raised their glasses in cheers, too. Holly gave a frustrated nudge with her arm and Catherine laughed. Giddy, Catherine said, “To the best Christmas ever.” Heads thrown back, they downed the contents of the tumblers. The whiskey was nice but strong. Catherine grimaced at the aftertaste as the fiery trail made its way down to her stomach. Granny Birch would be highly disappointed in her.