Gran pushed her feet into comfy, wide trainers. She’d splashed out on ones with rose gold stripes, saying if she had to wear them all the time she wanted to feel less Paula Radcliffe and more Kim Kardashian. I slipped an arm around her shoulders. Gran slipped an arm around my waist and we headed left, along the corridor, Oliver walking behind with Buddy. Lights automatically flicked on as the sky outside darkened. It was quieter than usual for midday, without the clatter of cutlery and lively banter. We walked past reception and into the dining room area with buttercup walls and a pine floor. The decor had looked a bit tired this last year. A handful of residents sat at tables. Seeing as he was so well-behaved, Lynn always let Buddy in.
‘Salmon with hollandaise sauce,’ I said and breathed in. ‘Followed by crème brûlée by the looks of it.’
‘We had stewed apples and custard yesterday – your mum’s favourite,’ said Gran wistfully.
I wouldn’t know about that.
‘Woo hoo! Alice! Darling!’ called Pan. Despite the time of year, she wore her favourite rainbow-coloured sunhat. Large gold hoops hung either side of her cheeks. Long red nails beckoned us over. ‘Jess! Oliver! How lovely to see you! It’s been ages.’
The three of us looked at each other but said nothing. Pan might have looked dynamic but she wasn’t always on the ball – she’d had other things to worry about lately.
We headed over and she stood up. After she’d greeted Buddy we all hugged.
‘Did you get that email this morning?’ asked Gran. We sat down, around the rectangular table.
‘What email?’
Gran reached across the patterned tablecloth. ‘About this place hitting the duffers.’
The smile dropped from Pan’s face as torrents of rain broke through the cloud. ‘Yes. I… I forgot for a moment – at least there’s one upside to this blasted diagnosis. I haven’t told my boys about the closure yet. They’ve been harping on for me to move in with them, ever since… I won’t be a burden. I can’t see us moving out until the spring. That gives me the chance to make other arrangements.’
Gran squeezed her hand. ‘One thing reaching this grand old age has taught me – you never know what’s around the corner. Maybe there’ll be a last-minute rescue plan and we won’t have to leave at all.’
‘I doubt that very much,’ said a crisp voice. Glenda approached us slowly, in her court shoes and smart, starched slacks, looking as if she’d just walked out of a board meeting, even though she was approaching eighty, had a limp and the top of her spine bent forward slightly. She may have left her highly paid, well-travelled executive past but she hadn’t retired her appearance. Her flawless makeup and co-ordinated clothes were admirable – all top brands, of course. She still fitted the trouser suits and skirts she used to wear to work. Glenda was a woman who believed in herself. In that sense, she reminded me of Gran – although in other ways she couldn’t be more different.
‘I’ve just cornered Lynn and demanded more details. She said it wasn’t fair to give out information that wasn’t concrete. I said it wasn’t fair to keep us in limbo – especially for those who are self-funded or have no family to help them with the onus of finding a new home.’ Her narrow eyes brightened as if powered by obtaining secret knowledge. ‘The deal with the hotel has gone through and the developers are keen to start work as soon as possible.’ Glenda rubbed her hip. ‘It looks as if we’ll be thrown out in the middle of December.’
‘That’s outrageous,’ gasped Oliver. ‘That’s, what, six weeks from now?’
‘Such a shame, isn’t it,’ said Glenda in a voice that implied the opposite, ‘that we’ll have to cancel this year’s Christmas party?’
4
I stared at Nik’s business card, my finger hovering over my phone.
‘I wonder if I should contact him,’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘I felt a bit rude about not being able to say goodbye before he left the shop.’
Oliver and I sat on the sofa in our flat, in front of the television as the credits went up. Ever the diplomat, in between both our feet Buddy snoozed on the floor. I’d needed to put on my pyjamas and chill with Chinese takeout after a busy day at work. One week into November and the Christmas rush had begun. Angela had made me responsible for ordering in this year’s festive stock with minimal input from her, and for the last few months I’d had sleepless nights wondering if I’d chosen the right products. Yet it gave me such a buzz to follow my instincts and see a customer buy a toy I’d chosen. Seb had been brilliant, coming over for dinner so that we could discuss the options.
Oliver had picked up dinner after his shift. It was almost eleven. Gran would have had something to say if she knew we often ate at this hour. But then it was Friday night, even if we did both have to be in work tomorrow morning.
‘Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said,’ asked Oliver. ‘I was concentrating on the last episode of the final season of the show we’ve been avidly watching. Did you like the ending?’
‘Um… yeah… it was good…’ I snuggled under my blanket. Oliver never seemed to feel the cold and would laugh at me each night, hugging my hot water bottle despite the heating being on.
‘Jess! How would you know? You’ve been swiping your phone since swiping that last prawn cracker. Buddy probably has a better idea of what happened.’ Oliver stood up and went over to the window. We were one floor up and west-facing which meant enjoying glorious sunsets during warmer months. Oliver drew the maroon curtains closed. They matched the sofa and the rug on the oak laminated floor. The walls were painted a nutty white. The coffee table was made from glass. Working nine ’til five in a colourful, cluttered toy shop made me err towards simplicity with my own interior design.
Our landlord had let us redecorate and we’d added personal touches. A bookcase to the left was filled with Oliver’s thriller novels, along with my miniature Buddha and a small lotus flower ornament. On the coffee table sat one of my scented candles. It was burning and smelt of nacho cheese. Oliver had bought it for me as a joke so I forced him to suffer the extremely creamy fragrance. We’d also hung a vibrant watercolour print by a local artist who painted riverside wildlife. The local waterway ran straight through Amblemarsh and Springhaye.
‘I couldn’t concentrate and I was so looking forward to it.’
‘Honestly, you remind me of my parents,’ he said with what I could tell was forced cheerfulness. ‘Time together was always interrupted by their phones and them muttering it’s work.’
I tossed the phone onto the cushion next to me, got up and went over. I put my hands on his shoulders and stared into his face.
‘Fine. You have my full attention. I’m all yours.’
He stared back into my eyes for a moment and his shoulders relaxed. ‘Too late,’ he said after a few moments, with a superior air. ‘The episode is over.’ Oliver strode over to the open plan kitchen and switched on the kettle.
I followed him to the breakfast bar. ‘Don’t be grumpy,’ I said, poking him in the ribs, my finger pushing against muscle.
‘Stop it,’ he said and reached for teabags.
I could tell he was working really hard to keep a straight face and poked him again. He roared, turned around and tickled the air with his fingers. I bolted over to the window and hid behind the curtains. Buddy barked and claws scrabbled on the wooden floor.
‘It is safe to come out?’ I asked in muffled tones, failing not to laugh. ‘Why don’t you tell me how the series ended? You can even have some of those chocolate chip cookies I baked.’
‘I’m already eating them.’
A curious nose snuck through the gap in the curtains and nudged my pyjamas.
I stroked Buddy’s ears and left my hiding place. Sure enough, Oliver was back on the sofa in front of two mugs of tea and an open Tupperware box. I headed over and collapsed next to him. Our shoulders rubbed comfortably together as I pulled up my blanket once more.
‘You’re nothing but a big bully, Oliver Hart.’
‘And you’
re nothing but a scaredy cat, Jess Jagger – although you are a fantastic baker.’ He offered me the box and I pulled out a cookie. Then another. We sat munching.
‘Were your parents really that bad?’
‘Time with them was rare enough but even when they promised a family night in I never got their full attention.’ He smiled. ‘But I’m over it.’
I slipped my hand into his and squeezed, aware of the bravado underneath, the boyish smile reminding me of the one time we’d kissed. It was shortly after he moved in and had too many bubbles to celebrate. He’d smiled at me like that and one thing had led to another. I took my hand away, cringing at the memory. Not so much at the kiss that had warmed me from head to toe, that had got my heart racing and my fingers running through his hair… no, it was our mutual embarrassment when we’d sobered up and drank coffee together the next morning. He’d acted as if nothing had happened. I’d felt a little wounded that he felt so mortified, at least I’d been prepared to joke about it.
I stared at the little Christmas tree in the corner, by the window. Multi-coloured lights twinkled and hid the straggly branches. Oliver had picked it up for half-price, the second year we lived together, before we both got pay rises at work and could have afforded something bigger. Oliver put it up every year on the 1st of November and religiously bought me an Advent calendar on the 1st of December. His face was a picture the first time I’d bought him one too and each morning he’d excitedly shout out what the picture was behind the door. After too many mulled wines he’d once mumbled about Christmas never being celebrated much when he was little. It was then that I’d begun to realise our very different childhoods actually had common ground in buckets.
‘Blissful silence,’ said Oliver and he stretched as he did every day when he got in from a shift of shaking cocktails and cleaning tables. My days were visually overcrowded, with dolls and bears and electronics whereas it was Oliver’s ears that took a beating due to his job in Misty’s, a music bar a twenty-minute walk away from our flat.
‘Do you think we’re weird?’ I asked eventually.
‘Definitely.’
‘I’m serious. We’re both thirty next year. Neither of us has settled down. We’re living the carefree life of a pair of twenty-year olds. Work aside, I’m only responsible for looking after Buddy and a couple of cacti. The most concrete personal commitment either of us has made is buying a second-hand car each with long-term payment plans. Most of my friends have kids now – or at least a forever partner. Usually a mortgage and—’
Oliver put down his drink and turned to me. ‘What’s brought this on? We’re both doing fine. Some might say commitment is overrated, in business or life.’
I studied his face. As usual, he gave nothing away when we neared the subject of any kind of past relationship in his life.
‘But maybe if I had a partner to put down roots with, then I’d be able to look after Gran.’ My voice wavered. ‘I wish I could take away all her upset. As I’ve become more senior at work Angela’s been very fair about raising my salary, but I’m going to have to save hard for several years to have my own place. If only I could afford to buy… I don’t know… a bungalow, especially adapted for her needs. I’d rent a room to you and—’
‘Jess,’ he said gently, ‘even that wouldn’t work. She needs someone around the whole time. As it is, you and I struggle to make sure one of us is here most of the time for Buddy. Increasingly Alice struggles to get dressed and washed. On bad days she wouldn’t be able to make herself lunch. With your frequent phone calls and visits you already do the very best you can.’ He rubbed my arm. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort this out, the three of us together.’
I liked the way he rubbed my arm. Oliver’s reassuring presence had filled a gap in my life when I’d moved out of Gran’s.
‘You’re very good to me.’
He took another biscuit. ‘Yes, just don’t take advantage. It’s still your turn to clean the toilet this weekend.’
I shuffled and sat straighter. ‘Did you know in Australia they call an outside toilet a dunny? And we’re currently enjoying a choccy biccy. I could change careers and get a job as a garbo, chalkie or milko. Facebook is Facey.’
‘You’ve been researching Australian slang? This Nik really made an impression.’
‘I’m just curious. I’ve never really got to know an Australian and we really hit it off.’
‘Anyone would think you fancied him,’ said Oliver and took a large mouthful of tea.
‘What would be the point of that? He lives on the other side of the world for a start.’
‘You could always keep in touch via Facey…’
‘Ha ha.’ I picked up the business card again. It was basic and didn’t even mention the name of his company. ‘But he is around for a while, on some sort of break. Maybe I’ll ring and see if he fancies meeting up. It must be lonely, not knowing anyone here. I feel bad that I’ve left it this long.’
‘It was Bonfire Night last night and Remembrance Sunday this weekend – why not take Nik to a fireworks display? Or you could meet him in London – take him to see the Cenotaph.’
‘I’m out to work early in the morning, like you, although Angela texted to say I could just do until three tomorrow, if I wanted, as she’s going in to look at some paperwork and can cover. I think she appreciated me going straight to Under the Tree from the airport last Saturday. But Nik may not want to come all this way for a couple of hours, just for coffee, before I head to Gran’s at five. And I can’t cancel her, not with the shock of Willow Court closing. Even if I could there’s Buddy to think about.’
Between us Oliver and I managed to stop Buddy from getting lonely. The fact that Oliver worked shifts helped, and sixteen-year-old Immy next door loved to spend time with him after school. Eventually I insisted on paying her when she offered to let herself in and take him out for a walk.
‘I know… I’ll text him. That way it’s easier for him to duck out, if he’s actually really busy. He left his business card – I don’t want to come across as unfriendly by not contacting him. At least this way I’ve made the effort.’ I picked up my phone and added Nik’s number to my contacts list before typing.
Hi Nik. Jess here – we met this time last week, on the plane from Nuremberg. Sorry I had to take that call. Hope you got to Islington okay.
A message pinged back almost immediately.
Hi there Jess! I was just thinking about you and how you shared your chocolate with me. I thought you’d appreciate this joke:
What do you call a wooden toy that likes chocolate?
Pinocchi-cocoa.
Mentally I gave myself a hug and grinned before replying.
Love it! How about telling me some more of your bad jokes in person?
5
Red anorak. Khaki trousers. Feet planted on the grass verge at the front of Willow Court. I almost forgot to turn the car as I stared at Nik. There was something compelling about his smile. I waved as my battered old hatchback headed into the car park and he followed. We’d agreed to meet at Willow Court and go to The Corner Dessert Shop before I visited Gran. I’d nipped home first to pick up Buddy. He’d been jumpy what with fireworks going off all week. I smoothed down my curls after I’d climbed out of the car although there was little point as one touch of the dusk dew would instantly unleash the frizz. I’d sprayed my favourite perfume across my hair, as well as on my clothes. I had as many bottles as I had candles.
‘Hey, Jess, how you going? Great to see you again.’ Nik opened his arms and we hugged briefly, a spark of electricity making its way down my spine. He bent down to stroke Buddy. ‘And who’s this handsome fella?’
‘My other flatmate, Buddy,’ I said with a smile. ‘Great to see you too – although I don’t flatter myself you came all the way to Springhaye for a couple of hours with a woman you met on the plane. Did you get it?’
He put his rucksack on the ground and delved inside, pulling out a box that he opened. Out of that he gently pull
ed an old-fashioned camera. It had a chrome and leather body just like he’d described, with the word Pentax printed above the lens.
‘I’ve been thinking about it all week. You texting prompted me. I rang Mr Wilson first thing this morning to see if it had been sold. I asked him to put it aside until I dropped by this afternoon.’
Carefully he put it back in its box and into the rucksack. We crossed the road and headed down the high street, passing Under the Tree. I wished I’d worn gloves as the tips of my fingers turned red. Nik looked in and waved at Mr Wilson as we passed Smile Please. The Corner Dessert Shop was next to the bank. It was bright and modern with white furniture and matching walls, decorated with silver frames filled with tempting photos of sweet treats. It was a welcome contrast to the clouds outside darkening the winter afternoon.
We went in and found a table for two, on the left. Like many of the food and drink establishments in Springhaye, dogs were allowed as long as they were under control and didn’t climb on any of the furniture.
‘I don’t think I’ve been to a dessert shop before,’ said Nik as Buddy collapsed at my feet.
‘They’ve become really popular over here in the last couple of years. You won’t find a wider choice of sweet treats. All they sell is desserts and puddings – huge ones as that’s all the meal consists of, without any savoury dishes. Then there’s a range of soft drinks, teas, coffees and mocktails.’
Nik took off his anorak and scanned the menu. ‘Wow.’
‘I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when this place first opened up last year.’ I glanced through the choices of sponges, waffles, pancakes and ice cream dishes, the cakes and cookies, the tarts, the macaroons and muffins… Nik focused on the page of traditional English puddings. I knew it well. Gran and I often came here and she always had trouble choosing from her old favourites, including apple and blackberry crumble, sticky toffee pudding, custard tart and jam roly-poly. He glanced at a neighbouring table where a couple were eating and his eyebrows shot into his hairline.
The Winter We Met Page 3