Love and Lies at the Village Christmas Shop

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘I’m thinking of getting a pet,’ Gaz tells her.

  ‘Oh?’ she replies. ‘What kind?’

  I suspect Gaz is just looking for an excuse to talk to Charlie. They start to chat between themselves.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Seb says to me quietly, so that only I can hear.

  ‘No, we don’t,’ I correct him.

  ‘Ivy, it’s crazy to think you can buy the shop and the land without any money.’

  ‘You’re just worried you’ll lose your plot.’

  ‘No, I’m worried you will,’ he says. ‘Don’t ruin yourself for a business.’

  ‘It’s not just a business,’ I remind him. ‘It’s my mum’s.’

  ‘Ivy…’

  ‘Isn’t that right, Ivy?’ Gaz interrupts.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I’m great with kids and animals, right?’

  ‘Right,’ I reply. Exclusively kids and animals, though.

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ Charlie asks, suddenly paying attention. ‘You’re looking a little intense.’

  ‘We were just talking about business,’ Seb says. ‘Ivy makes all these amazing festive chocolates, sweets and biscuits.’

  ‘I just make them for my niece and nephew,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, and I think she should sell them. They’re incredible,’ Seb stresses. ‘I think people would pay a lot of money for them.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re great,’ Gaz chimes in, not one to be outdone by Seb.

  ‘You should take some home for your son,’ I tell him.

  ‘Who?’ Gaz replies.

  ‘Your son,’ I repeat.

  ‘I don’t have a son.’

  ‘Yes you do,’ I tell him. ‘You told me, when I hired you, that you were a single dad.’

  ‘Oh.’ Gaz laughs wildly. ‘No, sorry, that was just to get me the job.’

  I feel my jaw drop.

  ‘Anyway,’ Seb interrupts, changing the subject. ‘I was just telling Ivy that, in business, you have to be flexible.’

  ‘I’m flexible, FYI,’ Charlie tells him, with an unsubtle flirtatious tone that Gaz is no stranger to.

  ‘Well,’ I say, knocking back the last sip of wine in my glass before standing up. ‘We should probably get going, Gaz, right? Early night tonight.’

  ‘Ooh, it’s like that, is it?’ Charlie teases.

  It’s not, at all. What I meant is that we need separate early nights, because Gaz is opening up the shop tomorrow and I’m heading out early for my meeting at the bank.

  ‘Something like that,’ I reply casually. I don’t know why but suddenly I want Seb to think there’s something between me and Gaz. Well, if he’s turning up with Charlie, rubbing her flexibility in my face, why shouldn’t I do the same? ‘Bye.’

  ‘See you tomorrow, Ivy,’ Seb calls after me.

  Outside the pub, away from the warm lighting and the even warmer log fire, it’s so dark and cold. I tighten the belt on my coat.

  ‘So, my place or yours?’ Gaz asks. ‘If we go to yours, I’ll be ready for work in the morning.’

  ‘What? Gaz, no!’

  ‘You said we were getting an early night.’

  ‘Yes, separately,’ I point out. ‘You’re opening up the shop early, I’m at the bank – we need to be up early, so we need to get to bed early.’

  ‘Oh,’ he replies. ‘So…you’re not interested?’

  ‘Gaz…I’m your boss – I like to think we’re friends too, but when I say no, I mean no, OK?’

  ‘Hmm,’ he replies. ‘OK. So…’

  ‘So you go to your place and I’ll go to mine.’

  ‘OK.’ He laughs. ‘Night, love.’

  ‘See you in the morning,’ I call after him as he walks away, leaving me alone outside the pub.

  I glance back at the window where we were sitting, where Charlie and Seb are happily chatting away. What was he thinking, turning up where he knew I’d be, with a girl in tow? Was that for my benefit? I don’t know what he’s playing at, but he needs to stop. My life is stressful enough right now. I don’t need his games.

  Chapter 12

  ‘What now, Auntie Ivy?’

  ‘I just need a second, Chloe,’ I reply.

  I’m sat in the driver’s seat of my car, massaging my temples as I try to get my stressed-out ducks in a row.

  ‘The bank was fun,’ Chloe informs me.

  ‘Yes,’ I lie. It might have been fun for Chloe and Harry, who got to sit and play with toys. It was less fun for me, who was told that, due to her situation, getting a mortgage was going to be tricky. The fact that I am going it alone, along with my financial instability, means I’ll need a much larger deposit than I thought, with much higher monthly repayments to really twist the knife. The advisor I spoke to did say that my business had drastically improved recently, but that I would need to sustain it.

  Things don’t look great, but I don’t feel like my horse is out of the race just yet. Business is improving, and I’ve still got a few more tricks up my sleeve. Maybe, just maybe, with some sort of Christmas miracle, I can make the deposit, or perhaps what I do manage to make will be enough for the bank to take pity on me (not that anyone has ever known a bank to do that…) or if the worst does happen, at least I will have made some money to live on, until I figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life.

  I don’t think it helped my case that I turned up to my meeting with two fidgety children in tow. I’d only just got in my car, ready to set off, when Holly called and asked me if I could take the kids. She said that she needed to ‘do some things’ and that the kids needed someone to take them to buy her a Christmas present – none of which I buy, but no amount of asking got a different answer from her. She may not have sounded truthful, but she did sound desperate, so I agreed.

  I picked the kids up, along with some money from Holly, that she told me to use on a present for her, from the kids, and then she got in her car and left. It was weird because, although she’d made an effort, she wasn’t exactly dressed up, so I couldn’t even guess where she was going. I feel like if she were going to battle her way through Christmas shoppers, she would’ve just gone in her trackies for comfort and for grabbing items with ease, but she’s definitely spent a little time in front of the mirror this morning.

  After my disastrous meeting, I took the kids shopping and now we’re just sitting in the car outside my shop, because I called Holly 30 minutes ago and she said she wasn’t home yet.

  A knock on my car window causes me to jump out of my skin.

  ‘Hey,’ I say, winding my window down. ‘You scared me half to death!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Seb laughs. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Going fine,’ I reply.

  ‘You and Gaz get back safe last night?’

  I ignore him.

  ‘Who are these two little angels, sat listening ever so attentively?’ he asks.

  I glance in the mirror and see Chloe eyeballing him, listening to every word we’re saying.

  ‘This is Chloe and Harry, my sister’s kids.’

  ‘Hey guys,’ he replies. ‘You having fun with your auntie?’

  ‘We’re bored now,’ Chloe tells him. ‘But we had fun at the bank.’

  ‘You’ve been to the bank?’ he asks me.

  ‘We’ve been to lots of places,’ I say.

  ‘Are you Auntie Ivy’s boyfriend?’ Chloe asks him.

  I turn around in my seat at the speed of light. ‘Chloe, no,’ I tell her. ‘That’s a rude question to ask.’

  ‘My mum says Auntie Ivy needs a man,’ Chloe announces.

  I turn back to face Seb, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

  ‘Just for building bunk beds,’ I clarify. ‘Holly and I were having a bit of trouble, and their dad works away. We’re just waiting for him to come home for Christmas, aren’t we, kids?’

  ‘When is he back?’ Seb asks.

  ‘Christmas Eve,’ I reply.

  ‘Do you know who is really good at building bunk beds?’ Seb
asks the kids, getting them all hyped up.

  ‘Who? Who?’

  ‘Me,’ he replies. ‘I could put them together in no time.’

  I laugh it off.

  ‘Can you do it today?’ Chloe asks.

  ‘How about right now?’ he replies.

  ‘What? No, you don’t have to do that,’ I tell him. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Why not, Auntie Ivy?’ Chloe asks.

  ‘Yeah, why not, Auntie Ivy?’ Seb echoes, flashing those cheeky dimples of his.

  ‘You’re busy,’ I say.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he replies. ‘Come on, let me do this.’

  I think for a moment. If I know Seb’s MO – which I think I do by now – he probably thinks that, by doing something nice for me, he’ll win me over. He really does think his charm and his fake generosity will get him whatever he wants. Well, he’s wrong and I’m going to play him at his own game.

  ‘OK, sure,’ I reply.

  ‘Yeah?’ He smiles.

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘Thank you.’

  Seb probably thinks he’s playing me so good right now, but I’m playing him. This little stunt isn’t going to sway me at all, but it is going to get my niece and nephew’s bunk beds built, and that’s all I care about.

  ‘You kids ever been in a convertible?’ Seb asks them.

  ‘A car without a roof,’ I tell them.

  They both shake their heads.

  ‘I know it’s a bit cold,’ Seb starts. ‘But if you button your coats up, and I turn the heated seats up to full blast, we could drive over to your house with the top down.’

  ‘Cool,’ Chloe replies.

  ‘Fancy going in my car?’ Seb says. ‘You did give me a lift on your train that one time.’

  ‘OK, sure,’ I reply, unable to fight off a small smile.

  ‘OK, let’s go,’ he says, helping us out of my old banger and into his swanky sports car.

  Chloe and Harry are mesmerised by Seb’s car. I don’t think they’ve ever seen anything like it in real life before. Seb fastens them into the back before getting in and putting the top down. The kids gaze up at the roof as it disappears, like a real-life Transformer. As their little jaws drop, I can’t help but smile. I suppose it’s nice of Seb to do this for them, but I’m not going to be swayed by it.

  ‘You seem like a two-seater kind of guy,’ I tell him as we make the short journey to Holly’s, who has since let me know that she is home. When she learned that I was bringing Seb to help build the bunk beds, she got very excited.

  ‘I seem like a lot of things to you.’ He laughs. ‘None of them are accurate.’

  I’m pretty sure I’ve got most of them right.

  ‘So, I finally get to meet your sister,’ he says, as though that’s where our weird working relationship was heading all along.

  ‘Mummy and Auntie Ivy are twins,’ Chloe tells him, shouting loudly from the back of the car.

  ‘Oh really?’ Seb replies. ‘Can you tell them apart?’

  ‘They don’t look the same at all,’ Chloe replies, with more emphasis than I’d like. ‘They came from the same tummy, but not the same egg.’

  ‘Oh wow.’ Seb smiles at me. ‘I don’t think I knew what an egg was at that age. I’m not sure I know what one is now.’

  I laugh. ‘I don’t think she actually knows what it means,’ I say quietly. ‘I think that’s just Holly’s way of explaining to her why we’re twins, but we look different.’

  ‘Not even a family resemblance then?’ he asks.

  ‘Erm, a little, I guess. Holly got all the height and the looks – and the awesome kids,’ I say for the benefit of those in the back of the car.

  ‘And what did you get?’ he asks me.

  ‘The shop,’ I say, with a slight laugh. ‘It’s a left here.’

  We turn onto the street where Holly lives and I direct Seb onto the driveway.

  ‘This is a nice house,’ Seb observes, as we get out of the car, outside Holly’s detached house.

  ‘It is,’ I reply.

  ‘What does your sister do?’

  ‘She’s a housewife,’ I tell him. ‘She looks after the house and the kids while her husband is away. He’s got a pretty good job.’

  ‘What does he do?’

  ‘He works in the oil industry. He’s an engineer. He’s away a lot, working on oil rigs.’

  ‘So he must go a long time without seeing his family?’ Seb enquires. I nod. ‘Wow, I’m not sure I’d want to be away from my wife and kids for so long – if I ever have them.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I reply, dismissively, ushering the kids towards the front door.

  ‘Hello,’ I call out.

  ‘Hello,’ my sister says as she emerges from the kitchen. She seems a little frazzled, and there’s red sauce all over her apron, but when she spots Seb, her tone changes.

  ‘Hello, hello,’ she says, looking him up and down. ‘You’re Seb?’

  ‘Guilty,’ he replies.

  Holly giggles like a little girl. And, here we go. Another woman falling for the supposedly irresistible Seb Stone charm offensive.

  ‘It’s nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule to come and help us.’

  I notice my sister suddenly sounds distinctly less Yorkshire than usual.

  ‘I’m happy to help,’ he replies. ‘I never get to build fun stuff and your kids are adorable.’

  ‘My kids? Oh, yes,’ Holly replies, as though she temporarily forgot she’d had them. ‘You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?’

  ‘I’m sure Seb has to rush off,’ I insist.

  ‘Actually, I don’t,’ he replies. ‘I’d love to stay for dinner.’

  ‘Spaghetti Bolognese OK?’ she replies.

  ‘It’s one of my favourites,’ he tells her.

  I roll my eyes. ‘I’ll show you where the room is, so you can get started,’ I tell him. Sooner he gets started, sooner he can leave.

  ‘OK, thanks. I’m going to need your help though.’

  ‘Me?’ I reply.

  ‘No, Harry,’ he jokes. ‘Yes, you. Nothing difficult, I promise, I just need an extra pair of hands.’

  Ergh, I was really hoping we could just shut him upstairs and leave him to it. When I thought I had his MO figured out, I didn’t quite have it right. Yes, he’s trying to use his faux nice guy persona to score points and get what he wants, but he’s also only doing this to get me on my own, so he can talk to me when I have no choice but to listen.

  ‘After you,’ I instruct, gesturing towards the staircase.

  Holly grabs hold of my arm. ‘You two behave up there,’ she whispers into my ear.

  I shoot her a filthy glance before following Seb up the stairs. ‘It’s that room over there,’ I tell him.

  We walk into the kids’ room, where the pile of bunk bed parts are exactly as we abandoned them.

  Seb glances at the instructions before taking off his jacket and his tie, and unbuttoning his top shirt.

  ‘First up, we need to attach the bed ends to the side rails,’ he says. ‘Simple enough.’

  ‘Simple enough if you know how,’ I tell him.

  Seb arranges the parts where we need them and it’s my job to hold the pieces together while he fixes them in place.

  ‘I’m concerned about you,’ he eventually says.

  I shrug my shoulders.

  ‘Ivy, I’m concerned about you,’ he says again.

  ‘If you were that concerned, you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing,’ I tell him.

  ‘Building bunk beds?’

  ‘Ruining my life,’ I tell him.

  ‘Ivy, it’s business. Whether I buy the place or not, Mr Andrews is selling it, and unless things change, whether he sells it or not, your business is failing.’

  ‘Things are really picking up,’ I tell him.

  ‘I know, you’re doing an amazing job, but it’s not enough to be able to afford to stay there – I’m sure the bank told you as much.’

  I don’t say anything.
r />   ‘Is that why you went?’ he asks. ‘To see about a mortgage?’

  Still, I don’t stay anything.

  ‘I know that it was your mum’s place, and you don’t want to say goodbye, but your mum’s memory isn’t in a shop, it’s in you, and your sister. There’s a term we use in business: the sunk cost fallacy. It’s where you make decisions based on future values – the more you invest in something, the harder it becomes to stop investing in it. Say you’re in a casino and you’re gambling, putting money into a slot machine – gamblers believe that, once they’ve put a certain about of money in, it’s better to keep going than it is to quit. When it’s the right time to walk away, that’s the time to walk away. Don’t keep ploughing money and time into the business, just because it’s what you’ve been doing for years. Do not ruin yourself, trying to save something that can’t be saved.’

  ‘Finished?’ I reply.

  ‘Ivy…’

  ‘Sebastian,’ I reply. ‘Did you come here to build bunk beds or give me life advice?’

  ‘Both?’

  ‘Let’s just stick with bunk beds,’ I tell him.

  Seb nods and carries on with his work.

  ‘We can still chat though, right? Things will go faster if we chat.’

  ‘Well, if it will make things go faster,’ I reply.

  ‘Your sister seems nice,’ he says, as he screws two pieces of wood together.

  ‘She is,’ I tell him. ‘She’s a bit stressed at the moment; she’s not usually so intense.’

  ‘I like her,’ he says. ‘And, for the record, you can tell you’re sisters.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m not sure what it is…just a look you both have in your eyes.’

  I feel a little flutter in my chest. That’s something my mum always used to say, that we had the same glimmer in our eyes.

  In no time at all, the bottom bunk is assembled.

  ‘You didn’t really need a man for this, did you?’ he asks with a laugh. ‘Was it just a ploy to get me here?’

  ‘Yes, I am the kind of person to have hidden agendas,’ I reply, with the sarcasm turned up to 10.

  ‘You’re the one trying to gazump me,’ he points out. ‘I’ve been honest since day one.’

  ‘Erm, day three at best.’ I laugh. ‘Let me remind you that the first time we met, you came into the shop, didn’t tell me who you were or why you were there – when you were, in fact, scoping out the joint. And then you kissed me, which is just so disgusting.’