The Winter We Met

by Samantha Tonge

  I stared at Nik. ‘You know how she’s been mistaking you for her husband, Jim?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, almost every time she and I get talking, Betty mentions the video store where he worked.’

  I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It’s now the bookshop at the end of the high street, right?’ asked Oliver.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Come on. It’s a long shot but worth trying.’

  We turned left and dodging the last stragglers heading home after work we speed walked towards the end, past shops lit up with twinkling lights. I squinted as we neared the shop. There were two women outside. One was in her twenties and the other… I exhaled. She was wearing a raincoat.

  ‘Betty!’ I said.

  The young woman stared at me. ‘Is this lady a relative of yours? I thought she looked a bit lost and then I saw her slippers.’

  Nik moved forward and positioned himself in front of Betty, crouching down a little. She looked at him. Confusion swept over her exhausted features.

  ‘Jim… the children… need to get home,’ she mumbled. Betty held onto just one of the bag’s handles and it swung to and fro.

  ‘Everything’s all right,’ he said, ‘but yes, let’s go home and get a nice hot drink.’

  Oliver touched my arm. ‘Well done, Jess. You’ve saved the day.’ He and Nik wrapped the space blanket around her shoulders and then one of them either side, they accompanied her back down the street, her arm linked with Nik’s.

  I thanked the young woman profusely and she insisted on accompanying us for her own peace of mind, just to make sure Betty got back to where she belonged. I rang Lynn who choked up when I told her the good news. It was a short conversation as she needed to immediately update the police. When we arrived at Willow Court she gave Betty a big hug. Two of her team took Betty back to her room with instructions to make her tea and toast.

  ‘I can’t thank you three enough,’ said Lynn before going into the office to fill in an incident form and ring Betty’s daughter who would have been waiting for the video call.

  ‘What a mess,’ I said, the adrenaline wearing off and every limb suddenly feeling heavier. I stared at a blank space on the wall near the reception area, where a favourite picture had been removed. ‘Perhaps Glenda was right – maybe this party is a bad idea. It’s a distraction amongst unavoidable chaos and that could be dangerous.’

  Oliver took my hand and led me into the lounge. ‘You really think so? Just look around. I don’t think Alice would forgive you if you cancelled it…’

  I listened to the chatter, above which rose the voice of… Gran? She was walking out from behind the hatch, with Pan, holding court whilst reading from my clipboard. I pulled off my hat. We took off our coats and placed them on the chair where I’d left my chocolates. Most of the residents were sipping small glasses of sherry. Carers sat helping to make angel, bell and snowflake cardboard cut-outs. Nancy waved at us, silver glitter down her top. Gran and Pan stood wiping their hands on tea towels.

  ‘That’s the dough kneaded,’ said Gran. She gave a thumbs-up to a couple of women who’d been waiting to go into the kitchenette. They got up. ‘Now it’s someone else’s turn to roll it out and cut into suitable shapes.’

  ‘I can’t wait to try them,’ said Nik. ‘It’s just as well we decided to leave the stone painting until Sunday – you all look very industrious as it is.’

  ‘They aren’t for eating and would taste right disgusting without sugar in,’ she said.

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, I’m a poor, lonesome traveller making do with scraps,’ he said and grinned. He clicked his fingers in time to the music, for a few seconds, and then placed an arm on Pan’s shoulder, one around her waist, and started dancing with her as Bing Crosby picked up the beat. Her face lost the frown lines that had characterised it in the last week or two and she beamed as other residents began to join in. Fred stood behind Nancy and moved her wheelchair from side to side. My shoulders started to relax.

  ‘Such a lovely bunch of people,’ I murmured.

  Gran hesitated. ‘That’s why I’ve told them there are places at Darkthorn House.’

  We looked at each other. I helped her over to her favourite chair, with a straight upholstered back, and sat down nearby. Buddy rested his chin on her lap. She leant over and gently stroked my hair. ‘I’m sorry, love, that I walked out on Monday – it’s been a difficult few weeks and hearing about that email was the last straw. I appreciate that you thought about whether to tell me or not – I know you only had my best interests at heart. ‘

  ‘I didn’t mean it to come across as patronising,’ I whispered, voice wavering.

  ‘I know. And I love you very much. It’s me and me alone who should apologise.’

  Sorry wasn’t a word I ever heard growing up with Mum – not in a healthy way. It was new for me when I moved in with Gran, an adult properly apologising, like for snapping when she was tired. I learnt to follow her example. Mum’s way of saying sorry was to give me a big bar of chocolate from the pound shop. Yet even if I ate the lot it never seemed to fill an emptiness I felt.

  ‘In fact, sweetheart…’ She waved the clipboard in her hand. ‘You did me a favour by delaying telling me about Karen’s email… it made me realise how I’ve allowed myself to drown in a pity party since I heard this place was closing down, when the only party I should be focusing on is this Christmas one and making sure it’s the best bloomin’ one ever. In fact, I’d like to discuss a few pointers with you later. The buffet menu details aren’t detailed enough for my liking, most us residents are a little particular – and we need to write an exact timetable of the big day, thirty minutes by thirty minutes, I’d say, so we know exactly what’s going to be happening…’

  I couldn’t help grinning.

  She caught my eye. ‘It’s time I took control of my life again. Darkthorn House is the next best thing to Willow Court and I’ll accept the place there. I’d love fellow residents to move with me so I had a chat with everyone last night. Fred, Nancy, Glenda and a couple of the others are interested in taking a look. Glenda’s going to ask Nik if he’d mind accompanying her.’

  My eyes pricked. Gran was back, taking charge.

  ‘I’ve just got to get on with it,’ she said. ‘I’ve nursed my wounds for a while – and no shame in that, I wouldn’t be human if I hadn’t got upset… but now’s the time to find that stiff upper lip Fred likes to talk about.’ Gran fiddled with the cuff of her coral fleece. ‘I chatted with Pan. It’s hard knowing Darkthorn House isn’t suitable for her – or won’t be once her… her problem grows bigger. But I hope everything I said showed her that she just struck unlucky with the home she visited – and she really cheered up when I passed on what you said about us visiting each other.’ She rolled her lips together. ‘I can’t help feeling disloyal – accepting a place when Pan’s got no plans. She’s my best friend. But I can’t get sentimental about this. We’ve got to move out in three weeks.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ I said. ‘But that doesn’t mean you are letting her down. It’s obvious how much you care.’

  She nodded. ‘So instead I’m going to do my best to help her find somewhere. We’re going to go through the list in detail tomorrow. If my slow pace doesn’t hold them back too much, I’m going to suggest I go on the next viewing with her and her son, if she wants – and if Adam doesn’t mind. Pan deserves the best.’

  ‘She does indeed,’ said Alf, who’d just eased himself into a chair near us, notebook on his lap, a smear of glitter across his bald head. ‘My Maisie would have loved listening to her talk about movies. She used to have a crush on Kojak. We used to joke it was just as well I lost my hair.’

  ‘Did I just hear my name?’ asked a breathless Pan as the dancing couple came to a halt in front of us. She looked ten years younger with her eyes sparkling and cheeks blushed.

  ‘We were just saying what a wonderful person you are,’ I said.

  ‘And how we are going to find you a five-star plac
e to live,’ added Gran.

  ‘You couldn’t help me too, could you?’ asked Alf and he groaned. ‘Looks like I’m moving in with my daughter, for the time being anyway.’

  Nik pulled a chair around to face us and pointed to Pan to sit in it, before he collapsed onto the arm.

  ‘Your daughter?’ asked Pan. ‘Holly?’

  ‘Polly,’ he said and smiled.

  ‘But I thought you and Maisie made some sort of pact about never…’

  ‘Being a burden?’

  ‘Yes. Like me and my husband did.’

  Alf adjusted his rimless glasses. ‘Things change, don’t they? No point being pigheaded. Christmas is a busy time of year and it’s more of a burden for my family to have to help me find somewhere to live at such short notice.’

  Pan listened intently.

  ‘What’s more, I caught Polly crying when I went around for lunch yesterday. I managed to wheedle it out of her, just like I used to when she was a little girl and someone upset her at school. She said it was never a case of out of sight, out of mind with me – just the opposite. There wasn’t a day when she didn’t worry about me being in Willow Court, even though Lynn and the staff are brilliant.’

  ‘I’d never thought of it like that,’ said Pan.

  ‘It’s a huge decision to ask a relative to move in with you,’ said Nik. ‘I don’t think people do that unless it’s something they really want. My grandmother moved in with us eventually. Grams fought against it even though we knew she got lonely after Grandpa had died. Dad had a word in the end and told her how much Mum used to worry about her living on her own; how much happier she’d be if Grams moved in. He joked how much I’d love her cooking every day.’ Nik stared at Pan. ‘In my experience it’s not a one-way thing – your family want to help look after you and it doesn’t mean they won’t get anything back.’

  ‘They’ll get peace of mind for a start,’ said Alf and his eyes twinkled even though he pulled a face. ‘Once Polly got over her upset, she was back to being just like her mum and told me not to be an old, stubborn fool, that it was the best answer all round and we could just see how it went. The grandkids have already left home and Polly’s got a bedroom extension on the ground floor, that they built for their eldest.’

  ‘How is Adam’s house set up, Pan?’ asked Nik gently.

  ‘He lives in a sprawling bungalow. They have two teenage daughters but still have a spare room with its own ensuite – his wife’s dance business has done very well. And there is a wonderful garden with a vegetable patch at the bottom and summer house.’

  ‘Sounds very roomy,’ he said.

  ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ came on and Nik stood up as Glenda came out from the hatch, brushing flour off her smart cardigan.

  He strode over and bowed. ‘May I, Glennie?’ Before she had time to disagree, she was gently swaying in his arms. Pan and Gran were deep in a conversation about Adam’s bird feeders. Oliver came over and jerked his head towards Nik.

  ‘I can’t compete. The man’s got more charm in his little finger than I ever had in my whole body at my peak – which is nineteen for most men, according to Misty.’

  ‘Wish I could remember that far back,’ said Alf and he chuckled.

  I got the feeling Alf talking about his daughter had really helped Pan. I mulled over what Nik had shared about his gran and the news that he’d be accompanying Glenda to look at Darkthorn House.

  ‘He’s an absolute saint,’ I muttered.

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ said Alf. He pushed himself up, his breathing slightly better than normal today. ‘It’s no good. I can’t keep this to myself any longer.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Oliver.

  ‘Let’s go and sit by the window.’ He patted the notebook.

  Oliver and I accompanied him to the table where they normally played dominoes. The terracotta curtains had been drawn and gave the room an even cosier feel. I pulled up an extra chair and the two men sat opposite each other.

  ‘What’s this all about?’ I asked. ‘I’ve seen you jotting down notes about Nik.’

  Alf rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ve been building a theory, day by day. The evidence has stacked up and now there’s no disputing it. I just have a few more things to find out before I’d say my case is concrete.’ He undid the top button of his striped shirt.

  ‘Case for what?’ asked Oliver.

  Alf looked over the top of his glasses. ‘It’s going to sound damn crazy, but often the truth does… like… like a celebrity becoming president and talking to the world on that Twitter.’

  ‘Alf! Don’t digress!’ I said.

  ‘Not here,’ he said in a conspiratorial tone. ‘You’ll both be here Sunday, right? And I need time to collate my notes so that they make sense. Let’s meet at twelve o’clock in The Silver Swan on Sunday, before the next crafting session. Are you both off work?’

  ‘I’m doing a late shift, starting at five,’ said Oliver.

  For once Seb had asked me to swap so I was just popping in for an hour to check up on things, late morning. ‘I should be finished at twelve, but—’

  ‘Okay, let’s say half past. So that’s Sunday the 29th November at twelve hundred hours and thirty minutes,’ he continued in the same low voice, sounding like a spy. ‘That still gives us an hour and a half before we have to be back here. Polly won’t be seeing me this weekend, she and her husband are working flat out to set up my room before I move in.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can wait that long,’ I said and looked at Oliver’s puzzled face.

  He clasped the notebook to his chest. ‘Trust me, young lady – it’ll be well worth it. You’re in for the surprise of your life.’

  35

  I gave a big yawn. It was Saturday night. I stood by the window and looked down onto the road and a couple bustling past under a streetlamp, laughing. They carried shopping bags with rolls of Christmas wrap sticking out of the top. Nik had been taken on a haunted London pub walk by his neighbour Rob. Oliver was on his second date with Krish. I thought back to the evenings Nik had come here and could almost not cringe now. What on earth made me think we’d ever be the perfect match?

  For a start, I came out in prickly heat if I sunbathed – Oliver was the same. Last year we’d saved hard and gone on our hiking trip to Canada in autumn, both preferring that to a sweltering beach break. The Australian climate would have never suited me. Nik didn’t like social media whereas, like Oliver, I was addicted to Instagram and Twitter, even though we knew it was a terrible distraction and he and I spend far too much time sending each other the latest silly memes. Plus Netflix was as important to us as oxygen whereas Nik laughed about how he’d first thought that word was a fishing term. His old school ways had made a refreshing change but his rejection had given me a new honesty and I had to admit they’d have pulled us apart once the initial passion died down. I needed to date someone who could talk Skype, hashtags and screenshots, especially if they lived nine thousand miles away.

  I picked up the phone and dialled Gran’s number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s me. How are things? Cold, isn’t it? We may not need that snow machine next week.’

  ‘Blimey O’Reilly you’re right, sweetheart. I didn’t put so much as a toe outside today once I saw how red Lynn’s cheeks were when she got into work. Instead I started to sort through my things, ready for the move. Oh, and I’ve rung the catering company to check they’re covering everyone’s dietary whims. My mouth watered at some of their suggestions.’ She went on to describe the finger foods that would be on offer, from chunks of soft turkey meat and soft, nut-free stuffing on sticks, to mini mince pies topped with whipped brandy cream.

  ‘So… did you do it?’ Yesterday I’d popped in after work and ended up staying for a couple of hours. ‘You still think it’s best to email and not phone?’

  ‘Yes. After such a long time it could get emotional. I think writing to your mum is better to start with. So I sent the e
mail after lunch. It wasn’t very long, my fingers are more stiff with the chilly weather and couldn’t manage much.’

  ‘I’d have done it.’

  ‘No. It was down to me. Shall I read out what I sent? Just let me find the piece of paper. I wrote it out first.’ A minute later she cleared her throat. ‘Hello Karen. Jess and I were both surprised to receive your email. You’ve got in touch now and that’s all that matters. Yes, let’s meet up. We’ll fit in with where and when suits you. Love from Mum.’

  ‘Is that okay?’

  I nodded down the phone.

  ‘I wasn’t sure how to sign off. I do love her. She’s my daughter. But after all these years…’

  ‘No one would blame you for feeling conflicted. I do myself. Well done, anyway.’ We chatted for a while, making pointless guesses about what my mum was doing now. How could we possibly all move forwards after such a lot of hurt? We both had so many questions. ‘Better go and make my tea,’ I said, looking at the clock. Half past seven. I suddenly realised how shattered I felt after a ridiculously busy day at Under the Tree – ridiculous and invigorating and stressful and crazy. I’d never get bored of a child’s face light up at the sight of an exciting book or cute plushy. I felt as if I could sleep for a week but with Gran now helping out again, perhaps I could start really savouring this time of year. I hadn’t been able to do that since the announcement of Willow Court’s closure. ‘See you tomorrow at the crafting session, Gran. Love you lots.’

  I didn’t tell her about the clandestine pub lunch with Oliver and Alf planned for beforehand because any conspiracy theory about lovely Nik was bound to be absurd. I yawned again and from the floor Buddy followed suit. I’d have a luxurious bubble bath with scented candles and then try some meditation, if I could focus.

  The door buzzer rang. I went over and pressed the button. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘A special delivery,’ said a voice in a weird foreign accent.

  I felt too tired to go down. ‘Okay, come up.’

  Buddy’s curls would be tidier than mine and I was still in my work clothes but didn’t care. I had no one to impress now. A knock at the door. I opened it, wondering what I’d have for tea.