The Christmas Cake Cafe: A Brilliantly Funny Feel Good Christmas Read Kindle Edition

by Sue Watson

In Europe Christmas Eve is like Christmas Day in the UK – presents are exchanged and supper is a special family event. So on my day off I bought Christmas presents – a beautiful notebook for Jon to write his recipes in and a pair of black opal earrings for Ella. The earrings cost a lot more than the notebook, but they were slightly Gothic, which I felt she’d approve of, and as opals were her birthstone (October), I hoped they’d make her feel special, knowing I had thought about her when buying her gift.

  I took the bus to Saas Fee and on arriving decided to walk out of the town towards Jon’s flat. It was so Christmassy here with the snow-covered roofs. I walked past chalets, glimpsing candlelit tables, families warm inside their homes, while outside a wind was whipping up around me, and the snow was coming down much more heavily now. I pushed myself forward through the weather, just hoping I could find where he lived easily, before the snow became any thicker and deeper.

  Eventually I arrived at Jon’s home, a small, but lovely wooden chalet with a wreath on the door and fairy lights around the windows.

  ‘Welcome,’ he said, opening the door and letting me and the weather in. ‘Wow, that feels like a snowstorm is coming,’ he said, putting his arm protectively round me and guiding me into the warmth. Once inside, I looked up into his eyes and reached up to kiss him. He responded eagerly and his warmth took away all the cold in my bones.

  ‘Oh God no,’ a voice said from the sofa. I hadn’t realised Ella was already there. She didn’t look up from her phone. I wasn’t sure whether the comment was about my arrival or not – but then that was the idea, to make me feel uncomfortable and if challenged say it was nothing to do with my arrival, and that she was referring to something on her phone. I knew all the tricks from long ago… I’d played a similar game with a copy of a magazine as a teenager.

  ‘Oh, hi, Ella. Happy Christmas!’ I said, walking into the room. She just grunted. It was going to be another one of those nights.

  It was warm and snug and lamplit inside, and I could smell the delicious aroma of warm garlic and chicken coming from the oven. The chalet was two bedroomed, and downstairs was open plan, with the kitchen only feet away from the cosy living room and open fire. It was small and simple with a Scandinavian feel – all block shelving and straight lines, no frills, a real bachelor pad stacked with books, skis and snowboards leaning against the walls. Christmas music was coming from a little radio in the kitchen. It sounded tinny and fizzy, but I liked the old-school sound of it – like music from the past.

  Ella immediately announced she was going to shower, which was her way of confirming I wasn’t welcome, but I was determined to stick this out. Jon said she was likely to be ‘several days’ in the shower so not to take it personally if we didn’t see her for some time. He was joking, but I knew he was trying to soften this for me – he’d picked up on her feelings too. I appreciated this and the fact he wanted to make things easier for me while trying not to antagonise and upset Ella. He was treading that tightrope and I could see the pain in his eyes – I recognised it as the pain in my father’s eyes when I’d told Claire how much I hated her. I’d had no idea of the deep feelings, the complex layers of guilt and hurt, my treatment of Claire must have caused my dad.

  ‘Your home is lovely and the food smells delicious,’ I said, trying again to shake off the past and all the pain.

  We wandered into the kitchen, where Jon put his arms around me and hugged me for a long time. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he sighed into my hair.

  ‘You saw me yesterday,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘That’s how it is. There is no rhyming and reason,’ he sighed, as always getting the phrase a little wrong – which made me love him all the more. ‘I miss you when you’re not here, in my arms – I can’t help it.’

  I reached up and kissed him. This is how it should feel to love someone – that you can’t leave their side. I felt the same way too.

  ‘I hope this is going to be okay,’ I sighed, gently pulling away from him.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s Christmas, your special time with Ella. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gatecrashed?’

  ‘No, you’re not crashing the gate, Jenny,’ he said, pulling me back into his arms. ‘I have never had a girlfriend since Martha and I parted. It’s been a long time and it’s new to Ella. When Martha left to be with her new husband, it hurt Ella so much I vowed I would never bring anyone into our lives… but just like you didn’t want a man with a child, we can’t help what our hearts do.’

  I was touched by this lovely sentiment, and the fact that until now, he’d given up on the idea of a girlfriend or partner for his daughter. What a wonderful father was all I could think as we kissed and slowly danced to Bing Crosby now singing on the tinny little radio.

  Eventually we pulled apart and Jon poured us both a glass of wine before we sat on the sofa together. ‘I want you both to be friends more than anything I’ve ever wanted,’ he suddenly said.

  ‘Me too,’ I sighed.

  ‘And you can… if anyone can reach out to Ella, you can.’

  ‘I’m not so sure, Jon.’ I almost rolled my eyes Ella style at this. In the first few encounters I’d hoped we might have a breakthrough, but the longer I was with Jon and the more I saw Ella, the more it felt like we’d made no progress at all. The idea that she would ever even make eye contact with me was still a stretch of the imagination.

  Jon stood up and wandered into the kitchen area where I instinctively followed him. We stood together as he stirred the chicken casserole. It was unspoken, but we both knew we had to be discreet and neither of us felt comfortable showing affection in front of Ella. She would be out of the shower soon – even Ella could only string it out so long – but we took a chance and kissed again. I longed for him to lift me up and throw me on his bed and make love to me, but the slamming of the bathroom door was a reminder that we weren’t alone and we sprang apart as Ella appeared.

  ‘That was a quick shower, for you,’ Jon said.

  ‘I changed my mind,’ she snapped. In her efforts to avoid me, she’d obviously realised it would make it easier for Jon and I to chat or kiss or do any of the other things couples were supposed to do. I knew what she was doing, I’d done it all myself, but I had to let her believe she had the upper hand. She needed to exercise what little control she had, because throughout everything that had happened to her, she’d had no voice.

  ‘Dad, shall we do presents?’ she said, like I wasn’t even there.

  ‘Yes, let’s.’ He smiled, clapping his hands together like an excited child. I loved this about Jon. He could be serious and strong, which I found very attractive – yet he could also be childish and spontaneous and fun.

  Jon picked up an armful of gifts from under the little pine Christmas tree. It was quite bare, with only a few baubles and a wooden train decorating it – and there was little colour coordination. I had to smile – if there was such a thing as a bachelor tree, this was it. Jon took the presents to the sofa and plonked himself down, where Ella joined him, while I put my presents on the coffee table and sat down in the nearby bucket chair.

  The present giving was fun, though it felt rather naughty opening them on Christmas Eve. I’ve always been a stickler for waiting until the day, but this was how they did it here. Jon gave me a beautifully wrapped robe. It was long and thick and cherry red, and I held it to my face, feeling the soft warmth.

  ‘I wanted to get you something because of your suitcase mishappiness,’ he said and Ella smirked at his language mix-up.

  ‘Oh and this is from Ella,’ he said, handing me a small parcel. I opened it and inside was a bauble, a beautiful white glass bauble that glimmered and glittered under the light.

  ‘Oh, Ella, it’s so beautiful. Thank you,’ I said.

  She shrugged, a little shimmer of embarrassment crossing her face. ‘Dad chose it, I didn’t.’

  ‘Well, it’s lovely,’ I said, putting it carefully back in its packaging so it wouldn’t break in transit. I
glanced at Jon and Ella, sitting expectantly together on the sofa, his arm around her, unopened gifts waiting to be discovered, a funny little Christmas tree in the corner – and I felt a tingle of happiness. Was it possible that one day Ella would let me in and we could become a kind of family?

  It was my turn to hand out gifts, so I plucked Ella’s from the little pile first. ‘I hope you like them,’ I said, holding the beribboned gift out to her.

  She waited a few agonising seconds before she took it and glanced from me to Jon as she opened it.

  ‘I thought they were your style – I hope so…’ I started as she undid the wrapping and opened the box.

  ‘My ears aren’t pierced,’ she said and, unsmiling, she closed the box and put it on the table.

  What an idiot I was. I felt so stupid and I’d been so desperate to give her something special I hadn’t even checked that her ears were pierced. So much for being caring and showing her some support.

  I smiled, embarrassed, looking at Jon for reassurance and he looked as lost as I was.

  ‘You don’t have to be so rude, Ella.’ Jon said this gently, but my heart lurched. I didn’t want Ella to react to this by creating a big row on Christmas Eve. This was a special time and I didn’t want to live through another awful Christmas.

  ‘Perhaps you could have your ears pierced?’ I suggested.

  ‘Mum won’t let me,’ she said.

  ‘Oh. Well, you don’t have to wear the earrings,’ I said, imagining this gift could open a whole new can of worms. Ella could easily translate this to her mother as ‘Dad’s new girlfriend says I have to get my ears pierced’. ‘I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you,’ I said, smiling broadly, braced for what she’d say next.

  ‘I thought you’d bought me the new Bieber vinyl,’ she said and looked disappointed.

  ‘Er, no… why?’

  ‘Well, you kept going on about him when we went to the café the other week.’

  ‘I just thought you… might like him, but you said he was a… tool.’

  ‘He is. But I would have liked the vinyl.’

  I thought about the vinyl and the lipstick I’d bought for our first ‘encounter’ abandoned in a shop doorway because I thought she’d hate it. I sighed. I couldn’t win this one.

  Once the presents were exchanged, Ella was immediately back on her phone and Jon, who was now tending to the Christmas Eve casserole, had given up on any kind of Christmas ceasefire tonight and was losing himself in chicken and garlic.

  ‘What time is supper?’ Ella said, putting the earring box on a shelf without acknowledging it and now addressing Jon. I felt a pang of hurt, but I also felt a little bit angry. It didn’t matter what my reason for being here, I was a friend of her father’s and she was being rude. I considered saying something but decided to leave it – I had to hold back and hope she’d come round.

  ‘Supper is… now!’ Jon said and she giggled at the sudden way he said it. I giggled too and looked around to see if she would grant me this, but she didn’t catch my eye, just opened the drawers and took out cutlery. Two of everything.

  I stood in the kitchen hoping Jon would realise and say something, but he just kept stirring his bloody stew and smiling inanely.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he said to me and I sat at a place with cutlery, much to Ella’s annoyance.

  ‘Ella, you silly billy, you forgot my knife and fork,’ he said, not missing a beat as he placed the bowl of steaming chicken stew in the middle of the table and winked at me. Oh he was good. He’d managed this whole situation without offending or hurting either of us – and I know perfect doesn’t exist, but in that moment he came pretty close.

  Ella didn’t say anything. She just walked back to the cutlery drawer like a robot and took out the necessary fork, knife and spoon. I pretended not to notice; again this was her way of exercising her voice and I must let her do this. Claire would sometimes comment on my rudeness or reprimand me – and as gentle as it was, it gave me the glorious opportunity of saying those words stepchildren love to keep in their armoury and use to wound: ‘You’re not my mother.’

  I was thinking about this as we all sat down and ate in silence, the wind howling outside and the snow on the window ledges growing higher and higher.

  ‘I think you have more books than me,’ I said to Jon, seeing some titles and authors I recognised among the mainly Swiss-German novels along the shelves.

  ‘I have the cookery books too,’ he said, gesturing towards a shelf in the kitchen with several large books. He got up from the table and opened a cupboard – inside were jars filled with flour and sugar, molasses, candy canes and brightly coloured sugar strands.

  ‘Wow, is that all your baking equipment?’ I said, as he proffered an open jar for me to smell the divine aroma of sugar infused with cloves, the most beautiful Christmassy fragrance. I just wanted to breathe it in for ever.

  ‘I was going to make topping for cakes – the café in the village said they would buy them from me – but I haven’t had the time.’

  ‘Oh you must. I bake most weekends when I’m at home, but I can never eat them all so take them to our neighbours,’ I said. ‘There are quite a lot of families with children who can’t afford luxuries like cake, so I have a weekend of baking therapy and they get to enjoy the results.’

  ‘That’s what you call “winning-winning”,’ he said, pleased with his mastery of the English language.

  I smiled. ‘Win-win.’

  ‘Yeah, win-win, Dad.’ Ella smiled and rolled her eyes, and I didn’t know if it was with me or at me, but I took it.

  After supper, Jon asked Ella to help him clear the table and she grudgingly asked me if I’d like some coffee. I said that would be lovely, and Jon washed the crockery as I opened a curtain to peep out at the snow.

  ‘It’s coming down pretty fast,’ I said, a little concerned at how much the snow had risen since I’d arrived. Jon leaned over and looked through the window, our heads touching. ‘Oh dear, it’s bad – it looks like a snowstorm out there.’ Ella joined us at the window. ‘Bloody, shitting hell!’ she said and glanced at me to see if I was going to react. I didn’t. I presumed Jon was too worried about the weather to reprimand her, and then someone knocked on the door and Jon went to answer.

  ‘It’s a neighbour,’ he said, wandering back in and putting on his coat. ‘He needs help moving his car from a snowdrift. You ladies will be okay for a little while, won’t you? I won’t be long.’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ I said and smiled as he left. ‘I hope your neighbour’s okay,’ I said to Ella. ‘I’m not used to snow like this… I had planned to go home to the resort tomorrow. I hope it clears so I can get back.’

  Ella shrugged and lay on the sofa, engrossed in her phone.

  I continued to dry the crockery and wipe down the kitchen units, and when it was all sparkly clean I turned round to see Ella was still on her phone.

  ‘How long has your dad been out?’ I asked, beginning to feel a little concerned. He’d only gone out in a coat and it was minus twenty degrees.

  Again she shrugged, but then I saw her glance at her watch.

  ‘I reckon he’s been gone about forty-five minutes now,’ I said, trying not to sound worried. I didn’t want to alarm her.

  She again didn’t answer me, just shuffled her bum further into the sofa and continued to gaze at her phone.

  I swept the floor and leafed through some recipe books and then went to the bathroom, by which time another forty-five minutes had gone by. Jon had said he wouldn’t be long, and now I wished I’d asked him how long that meant. He hadn’t even taken his phone, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just kept going to the window to look for him.

  Ella hadn’t moved or spoken throughout this time but, as I turned from the window, she finally looked up from her phone and made eye contact with me.

  ‘Are you looking for Dad?’

  I nodded, still trying to hide my concern. ‘I don’t know how long it takes to get a
car out of snow, do you?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’ She put down her phone and stood up. I expected her to announce she was going to bed or the bathroom, but she walked over to the window where I was standing.

  ‘I’m a bit worried,’ she said, almost to herself.

  ‘Me too,’ I admitted, as we both looked out into the snowy darkness, joined briefly and awkwardly by our love for one person.

  ‘I’m scared,’ she suddenly said. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to my dad.’

  At this my heart swelled and I put my arm around her, fully expecting a rebuff, but for once, she allowed me this. ‘Don’t worry – I’m sure he’ll be fine. Nothing will happen to your dad. He knows his way around here, doesn’t he?’

  She nodded slowly, and I pulled away slightly to look at her face and reassure her, but I could see indents on her chin that suggested she might be about to cry and I knew just how she felt. She’d lost her dad once when he and her mum divorced – she couldn’t go through it again.

  ‘It’s okay, he’ll be fine,’ I repeated, guiding her away from the frightening blizzard at the window. We sat next to each other on the sofa, and I reached my arm out tentatively again to comfort her as one would a touchy cat.

  ‘How do you know he’ll be fine? You don’t know what it’s like here. People get killed from falling snow, it happens – people just disappear!’

  ‘I know they do… I know they do…’ I said gently. ‘But your dad has lived here all his life – he knows what he’s doing and he wouldn’t leave you, Ella. Your dad will never leave you, I promise.’

  ‘Promise?’ She looked up at me, a frightened little girl in clown eye make-up, silent tears running down her face, and she seemed so vulnerable. And then she started to cry in earnest, huge sobbing tears, unable to get her breath as she dropped her phone onto the carpet and put her head on my shoulder. She collapsed into me, and we stayed like that for some time, me and the little girl with all her sass and pseudo-sophistication wiped away along with the charcoal eyes.

  If we’d been at home I’d have put on my wellies and gone on a search, but I didn’t know where I was, there were now weather warnings on the TV and there was nothing we could do but just sit and wait it out.