The Winter We Met

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘It’s the details of a childhood Christmas people remember, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Running upstairs to read a new comic annual or watching the cat hide under piles of discarded wrapping; the smell of roasted meat sneaking into every room and talking of food…’ He studied the menu again. ‘Steak and kidney pudding? Perfect. It sounds like a main and dessert rolled into one.’ He grinned. ‘Never thought I’d order anything that stodgy ever again after our snack this afternoon.’

  I had bangers and mash. Nik wanted to know if that dish was anything to do with fireworks. The barman overheard and explained that during World War One there was a meat shortage, so sausages were also filled with cereal and scraps and that made them explode whilst cooking. Afterwards Nik and I ordered a bowl of apple crumble between us. He was very polite and let me have the last mouthful. Unlike Oliver – we’d fight over the last chunk of brownie or scoop of ice cream if we ever shared. It was worth it to laugh at the wounded expression he’d pretend to wear afterwards if my spoon scooped quicker.

  Nik gave a contented sigh as the barman appeared to remove our plates, and asked him to pass on to the chef that the meal had been second to none.

  ‘No idea why everyone says English cooking is bad. That food was fit for a king.’

  ‘People like stereotypes. They’re familiar. Unthreatening. I’m not sure Alf will ever recover from the fact that a “strapping lad” like you drinks sherry and eats plant-based burgers.’

  Nik grinned. ‘He’s quite a character. I like Alf. He calls life as he sees it, just like Glenda. And she may not be the only resident who needs persuading that bringing their Christmas celebration forwards is a good idea. In fact, an overload of carbs has helped me brainstorm the party – would you like me to share my thoughts?’

  ‘Oh, yes please. It’s going to take more initiative and effort than ever if we’re going to pull this off on time. Any outside help would be appreciated.’

  ‘Ace! I do love a project.’

  His youthful enthusiasm made me feel half my age. ‘Hold on.’ I rummaged in my handbag and pulled out a pen. I reached for a napkin. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit old school for you?’ he asked, in a teasing tone. ‘I’d have thought you’d punch notes into your phone.’

  ‘The battery’s gone.’

  ‘I’m saying nothing,’ he said and laughed, attracting appreciative looks from a group of young women at the bar. ‘Okay. Why not contact the local press? I think it’s a story that suits the residents’ generation – a stiff upper lip in the face of adversity. Readers will love that. And going public might make the event extra special – give your gran and her friends the attention they deserve. I help out with various local charity initiatives, back in Sydney, and press coverage is also great for getting help.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Nik sipped his coffee. ‘You’ve got a couple of weeks less than normal to organise this event. Glenda’s right – people who are straight-talking often talk sense…’

  I loved how Nik saw the good.

  ‘…everyone will be distracted by the priority of sorting out where they are going to live when Willow Court closes. So the coverage could also be about asking the community for help – caterers, any company with spare decorations… why not go big? It’s the last one.’

  ‘You’re good,’ I said, pressing the napkin flat with one hand whilst I scribbled.

  ‘Last winter I helped renovate a homeless shelter. There was a fire just before a cold front was due – not cold by British standards, but still, no one deserves to sleep outside on an empty stomach at any time of year. The community really pulled together –the local paper advertised for help and joiners rebuilt shelves and units without charging. Electricians mucked in for free. I was part of a team that helped redecorate and a restaurant donated a cooker they were about to replace. It was hugely satisfying to see it all come together.’

  Nik told me about other charity work he’d done – a sponsored hike in a nearby national park… and every Christmas Junior Magic ran a shoe box appeal for impoverished children in our locality.

  ‘That’s amazing. Where do you find the time, with work? I feel wholly inadequate.’

  ‘Don’t be. Your life’s no less busy. You look after your gran – and Buddy. I’ve only got myself to worry about.’

  By the time we’d finished talking, the white napkin was covered in scrawl on both sides. I waved for the bill. Nik tried to pay when the waiter came over, but I got there first.

  ‘This meal is a thanks from me,’ I said, ‘for breathing cheery, warm Aussie air into Willow Court this afternoon, at a time when the residents need it most…’ A lump formed in my throat. ‘It was good to see Gran perk up. I’m really worried about what’s going to happen. She’s been so happy at Willow Court and a bit of excitement around the party, keeping busy… that would soften the blow just a little.’ I folded up the napkin and put it carefully in my bag. ‘I’m grateful, Nik. Your input will really make a difference.’

  I’d been watching a couple at another table. He’d snapped at her several times and talked her down every time she’d tried to respond before going back to scrolling down his phone. Now she sat in silence, simply drinking her wine. I wanted to go over and tell her she deserved better.

  Aside from Oliver, I hadn’t met many men as thoughtful or kind as Nik. My mum’s boyfriends were usually bad choices. Talking about Christmas reminded me of one with her then-boyfriend, Dave, who hardly spoke to me at all. I was eight. Mum couldn’t be bothered to cook vegetables and hadn’t had enough money to buy turkey. So I’d had my usual – chicken nuggets with baked beans and oven chips. I didn’t mind but could have cried when she said the Christmas puddings had been too dear. I’d wanted to see blue flames on the top that my friends had told me about. She’d switched on the telly and told me to watch what I liked – she and her latest were off down the pub.

  I could have been one of those children Nik did his shoe box appeal for.

  I shook myself, determined not to dwell. I’d always worked hard not to let my past define my future. I had Gran. An amazing job working with toys. Buddy and Oliver and now a lovely new friend. Nik passed me my coat, cleared our cups and took them to the bar. Buddy pushed close against my legs as we stood outside and breathed out white air. As a child I’d sometimes pretend to blow out smoke when it was cold, trying to be like Mum. She’d noticed once. Asked what I was doing and why. When I replied she’d burst into tears. I’d never seen her like that before. In between sobs she told me never to dream of being like her. I didn’t understand. I thought she’d be pleased.

  Annoyed at how these flashbacks popped up now and again, I pushed the memory away.

  ‘You’re really worried about Alice, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, smarting at the cold air. ‘But Gran’s one for getting on with things and not wallowing. I’ve just got to do my best to make this party the best one ever.’ I bit a fingernail. ‘I really hope I can pull it off.’

  Nik zipped up his red anorak. ‘Sounds to me like you could do with all the help you can get, at this meeting. Look… I love a challenge. How about I come along tomorrow – for extra moral support? Although please tell me if that’s too much, I—’

  ‘You’d do that? You’d really help me? But you must be busy researching for work.’

  ‘Sure… but there’s no tight schedule with that,’ he replied vaguely.

  ‘What about other things you want to do – that trip to the Cenotaph, for example, that I mentioned, or what about the London Eye and—’

  ‘My mate who owns the flat I’m staying in, gets on well with his neighbour, Rob, who knocked this morning to check I’d settled in okay. He happened to mention the Cenotaph as well. His grandfather died during the war. I can get to Whitehall from Islington on the tube in half an hour, with a couple of changes. Apparently there is a service at eleven. To get a good view you need to get there as early as possible. Rob said, if I like
d, I could go with him. But I’m at a loose end in the afternoon. To be honest you’d be doing me a favour.’

  ‘I look forward to hearing about it. My Sunday morning is brunch with Oliver and Buddy – I know it must sound silly, but it’s one of Buddy’s favourite times of the week. I take him out for a long walk when Oliver heads off to work, late morning. The rest of the week we’re both rushing around and too tired to play with him much in the evenings. If it wasn’t for that I’d have suggested us meeting tomorrow instead of today.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound silly at all.’

  ‘I’m off work Monday. I could meet you in London then, if you wanted, and show you around. But honestly, don’t feel obliged about tomorrow afternoon…’

  Nik offered his elbow and after pausing for a second, I slipped my arm through it as we headed out of the pub’s car park, part of me feeling like skipping.

  8

  ‘But you hardly know him,’ said Oliver as I approached the breakfast bar. He’d turned on the Christmas tree fairy lights even though it was daytime. Brunch was almost ready. It was utter luxury for me to have tomorrow off, as well as today. Consecutive days away were rare at Under the Tree. I poured orange juice whilst the kettle boiled for coffee. Oliver served poached eggs onto toast topped with mashed avocado and sprinkled freshly chopped parsley on top. It was one of our healthier meals. Well, almost – he sat down with me and shut his eyes whilst I performed the ultimate insult and squirted the whole of mine with tomato ketchup.

  ‘Finished?’ he asked in a solemn voice.

  I giggled my reply. He opened his eyes and we started eating.

  ‘You can’t ever get married, you know,’ I said and wiped avocado from the corner of my mouth. ‘I’m not sure how I’d function without this once a week.’

  A strange expression crossed his face for a fleeting second. He caught me looking.

  ‘I’m sure Nik makes a better breakfast,’ he said and rolled his eyes.

  ‘Meow!’

  Buddy barked from his place on the sofa.

  ‘Seriously though, Jess. You hardly know the guy yet now you’re taking him along to the residents’ Christmas party meeting?’

  ‘I do know him. He runs a toy manufacturer called Junior Magic. He’s from Sydney. His grandparents were immigrants from Finland.’

  ‘That’s quite a rundown.’

  I put down my knife and fork. ‘What’s ruffled you? He’s just a nice man trying to help out.’

  Oliver stared at me for a moment, sighed and took a swig of orange juice. ‘It’s just… I don’t want to see you hurt. Working in a bar… so often I see supposedly nice men behaving like real jerks, all charm and let me buy you a drink until they realise they aren’t going to get what they want. More than once, every weekend, we have to deal with angry exchanges or tears… how can you trust this guy? He could be anyone.’

  ‘I’m nearly thirty and hardly some youngster fresh on the dating scene – not that this is a romantic thing. But I think I can recognise a superficial idiot when I see one.’ I bristled. ‘And growing up with some of Mum’s dodgy boyfriends I reckon I’ve got a pretty good gut feeling for these things. Don’t you trust my sense of judgement?’

  ‘A toy manufacturer travelling during one of the most profitable seasons for their business? And now he can suddenly drop everything and help you?’ He shook his head. ‘Something just doesn’t add up.’

  ‘He’s explained all that.’

  ‘Precisely. I think you should be careful. People aren’t always what they seem.’

  I snorted. ‘Whatever’s made you so cynical?’

  He broke eye contact and I felt insulted that he was treating me like some helpless damsel. I finished my brunch in silence, headed into my bedroom and shut the door. I only lasted half an hour during which my stomach tied into knots and I sat on the bed, hugging my pillow. Oliver and I never argued. Perhaps he was jealous of Nik – owning a business, travelling the world… yet Oliver wasn’t the jealous type and always said how much he loved his simple life. I got the feeling that was due to his past but Oliver so rarely opened up about his jobs prior to London. He’d only recently moved down from Birmingham when we first met and if I asked any questions he’d change the subject.

  I opened my door. Oliver’s was closed and I couldn’t hear anything. The lounge was empty. He must have gone to Misty’s early. Buddy lay asleep on the sofa and I went over to the kitchen. Oliver had washed up and tidied away, apart from… I let out a huge sigh. He’d left out a dinner plate and in the middle was a large red kiss drawn with ketchup.

  ‘Friends again?’ said a voice behind me.

  ‘You made me jump, I thought you’d gone out,’ I said, swinging around. His bedroom door was now open.

  He ran a hand through his tawny crew cut. ‘I couldn’t leave – not with an atmosphere between us. I- I do trust you to look after yourself, Jess, and know you don’t need me for that.’ He opened his arms and came forward, enveloping me in them. I nestled there for a moment feeling warm and safe. Eventually his arms dropped and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but then changed his mind. Oliver looked at his watch.

  ‘Right, I’d better going. Honestly, breaking and making up is exhausting.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘for making the first move.’

  He took my hand and shrugged. ‘My parents never used to admit they were wrong. I swore I’d never grow up like that.’

  I squeezed his hand encouragingly before he took his away.

  ‘I shouted at them once.’

  ‘What about?’ I asked.

  ‘I was a hot-headed ten-year-old and they’d missed my Christmas play yet again. I asked them how come no one else’s nanny went, feeling furious with myself as tears ran down my cheek, me stamping my foot and saying they didn’t care.’

  I rubbed the top of his arm.

  ‘They said I was ungrateful and that they worked all hours to provide me with the best education. I never shouted at them again. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that I missed them.’ He gave a lopsided smile before taking my hand to his lips and kissing it. Then he grabbed his coat and hurried out of the front door. I gazed after him, wanting to follow and hug his heartache away.

  *

  Any doubts Oliver had planted in my mind about Nik were extinguished as soon as I pulled up into Willow Court. He was already there, helping Glenda – she must have been to the shops and dropped her bag as he’d squatted and was picking up a couple of apples. I hurried out of the car and gave a big wave. By the time I reached them the tarmac was clear. He stood with an arm around Glenda, holding her bag, complimenting her navy coat that had gold buttons down the front. Buddy tugged at the lead, keen to see his friends.

  ‘I’ve just been explaining that any bowling would be far better indoors at this time of year.’ Nik scratched Buddy’s head. ‘And that really, for a decent game, apples are a bit small.’

  I’d rarely seen Glenda smile like that, with her cheeks plumped out.

  It was almost two o’clock. Most of the residents, including Gran, were already in the lounge, drinking cups of tea. It wasn’t only the central heating and smell of warmed mince pies that welcomed me as I walked in, but the terracotta curtains, the sage walls and fern leaf patterned armchairs, each with a drinks tray attached to one side. The whole room had such a conservatory, sunshiny feel. Paintings hung on the walls of scenes from bygone times – an old-fashioned sweet shop with colourful jars, a horse and cart in front of a farm and a classic car driving down a narrow street. Lift music played in the background and was cheerful, unobtrusive and somehow comforting.

  Nik chatted to Betty who paced in and out of the room, in her usual raincoat, holding the doll. He asked her about her children, Lily and Roger. As the creases in Betty’s forehead momentarily smoothed out, it touched me that he’d remembered that detail. She talked about her ‘wonderful life’ with them but those sentiments only lasted briefly before she was transported ba
ck to the present and complained to Nik that strangers were being let into Willow Court whilst she wasn’t being let out.

  I turned left into the lounge and headed over to Gran, stopping to hug Pan who was dressed from head to toe in animal print and then Alf who always acted as if physical contact was embarrassing, yet never seemed to want to let go. Gran grunted and pushed herself up. I passed the dog lead to Nik who’d come over.

  ‘Let’s get this meeting started,’ she said.

  ‘First, I hope you don’t mind – but I couldn’t help buying you this,’ said Nik. He set his rucksack on the floor and pulled out a slim paper bag. ‘I passed a bookstore today. They had a whole section dedicated to Christmas. During our meal last night Jess mentioned that you used to enjoy reading festive novels with her when she was younger and are the mobile library’s keenest customer. The store had a special sale on. Apparently this new detective novel is selling out. It’s about a series of murders that all relate to a Christmas party in a haunted mansion.’

  Gran’s mouth fell open as she pulled out the book and ran her hand over the cover. ‘I don’t know what to say. You hardly know me.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘I love cosy crime – although Alf always tells me off for reading the last page first. Thanks, Nik.’

  They smiled at each other and a warm glow enveloped me. I took off my hat, scarf and coat and draped them over the back of her chair. Nik sat down next to Alf, wiping mince pie crumbs from his chin. Buddy collapsed at their feet. Arms linked, Gran and I made our way to stand in front of a hatch, behind which was a small area where residents could make coffee or tea and cook snacks. Nik winked and my stomach felt topsy turvy.

  ‘Right everyone,’ said Gran, taking her hands out of her cardigan pockets, ‘as I’ve already told most of you, our Australian visitor has come up with the brilliant idea of having our party a couple of weeks early. If Nik’s home country can celebrate Christmas six months before, there’s no reason why us lot should be shy, right?’

  They looked at him and some raised eyebrows. Others shrugged. Alf stopped feeding Buddy treats.