‘Tell us more,’ said Alf taking out his notebook.
Nik took Lachlan’s coat and put it on a chair. Oliver headed over with a Snowflake Martini that had been left over.
‘Cheers,’ he said and grinned. ‘Well, Nik has a habit of not knowing when to stop helping others. Once he’s invested in a project he becomes fully absorbed and loses track of everything else.’ He clapped Nik on the back again. ‘Nik Talvi is one of the kindest, most generous people I know – but I’m guessing you’ve found that out for yourselves.’
Alf shot me and Oliver a smug look.
‘Take the sponsored walks he does and Christmas shoebox appeals. They totally take over Nik’s life to the exclusion of everything else. Joanna says you’re needed back at the factory now – but more than that, I think she wants her son home for Christmas.’
Nik groaned and comically pulled a face. ‘Mum’s apron strings stay tethered even at nine thousand miles away.’
‘I don’t blame her,’ said Glenda, eyes glistening. ‘I think I speak for everyone when I say you’re going to be deeply missed.’
‘Damn decent man you are,’ said Fred.
Nik’s cheeks flushed. ‘I’m no saint.’
‘Really?’ piped up Alf. ‘I find that hard to believe. You see I’ve had this theory – it’s as tight as a drum now – that—’
‘No really. He’s not joking,’ said Lachlan and he chuckled. ‘I’ve known Nik since we were at school together. Talk about drama.’
‘It’s true. I never studied. Was always outside the head’s door. I even got caught shoplifting once.’
He and Lachlan preceded to laugh over some of the escapades he’d got up to in his youth.
Alf’s face fell.
‘Why, what’s this theory?’ asked Lachlan.
Alf put the notebook on the floor. ‘Nothing. It sounds stupid now.’
But all eyes were upon him.
‘If you must know… I thought… what with Nik drinking sherry, wearing red, coming from Lapland… what with him having the same name as Saint Niklaus and his charitable nature…’ He sighed. ‘I’m just a silly old fool, thinking Father Christmas might really exist. Maybe I’m wrong about everything else. Perhaps man did land on the moon.’
Lachlan and Nik exchanged looks. No one laughed, not even Glenda.
‘You’re not a fool, Alf,’ she said quietly. ‘As you know, I’ve been more sceptical than anyone, over the years, when it comes to Christmas but this year – watching Jess, Oliver, Nik, Alice and Lynn… seeing how everyone has pulled together – the local paper, the community, the choir here, the caterers… it’s made me believe that Father Christmas is a real thing, or at least his spirit. It’s inside people at this time of year and makes them full of goodwill and charitable to others. I’ve never really liked the festive season with no family or children of my own and even though you’ve all always tried to include me in Willow Court, I’ve always felt like I’ve been on the outside looking in.’
That explained it.
‘I don’t think you’re stupid at all, Alf,’ she continued. ‘Nik embodies the very best of that genuine Christmas spirit. He has a way of making people feel valuable, special, as if they are the only person on the planet and that their wish list, so to speak – their dreams – are just as important as anyone else’s…’
That’s exactly how he’d made me feel.
‘And he’s brought the Father Christmas out in everyone else,’ she continued. ‘Perhaps even me.’
‘What a compliment,’ said Nik and with a flushed face looked from left to right, across the sea of faces, smiling at every resident. ‘You’ve taken me into your hearts and there’s a place in mine for Willow Court. I think what Glenda says reflects the theme of this party. Every single one of you here will have made a difference to each other’s lives, including all you party guests. Like George Bailey, we may have regrets, we may think ourselves not worthy, but if we each had a guardian angel they’d show us how, over the decades, all of us have positively affected others. It’s a wonderful life even though, at times, it may not feel like it. I’ve been blown away about how strong you’ve all been at facing your recent challenge.’
I went behind the hatch and came out with a big bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates. ‘This seems like a good moment to give you these, Lynn – from all the residents, to put in the staff room. Day in, day out, you and your team carry that goodwill throughout the year.’
Pan started clapping and one by one everyone else joined in, several residents and guests wiping their eyes. I gave Gran a hug and went over to the window. Snow was falling, on cue, as the end of the party drew near.
I was going to miss this place. So would Buddy.
Buddy! I hadn’t taken him outside since we arrived. He was due for five minutes of fresh air.
I looked across the room, at Nik embracing Glenda. Lachlan was talking to Fred and Alf. Gran chatted with Pan’s son, Adam. And Oliver and Krish… things would never be the same again. Come the New Year Willow Court would be a hotel. Nik would be back in Oz. Oliver would have settled into his new flat. Yet Buddy would always be by my side and I had a lot to be grateful for. The expansion of Under the Tree was exciting and if the residents of Willow Court could face the closure with such stoicism then I had no excuse not to show some determination.
I slipped on my coat, took Buddy’s lead from Nancy who’d been fussing over him and slipped out to the front. Delicate snowflakes fell.
‘Fantastic job. Thanks so much,’ I said to the Pro Snow workers, before moving right, across the lawn, Buddy sniffing plants and happily stopping by a tree in front of the lounge window.
‘Jess?’ Oliver was heading my way, just in his shirt, sleeves rolled up. ‘Everything going okay? I saw you nip out and wondered if you’d gone home. You can’t leave without trying the trifle Nik made with that Spanish sherry he bought from the Birmingham markets… Hurry now and you’ll get the last morsel.’
‘I thought Buddy might be crossing his legs after all those treats Alf gave him.’ I turned away, not wanting to see the etch of concern on his face, that only reminded me what a caring, loyal part of my life he’d become. ‘You’d better not leave Krish too long.’
‘I think she’s taken a shine to that Lachlan, to be honest. Who could blame her with his surfer look?’
I turned around. ‘But I thought… you stayed over.’
‘On the couch. Why, did you think…? We’re just friends, Jess. She’s great but we’ve acknowledged there’s no chemistry there.’
‘Really? You seemed to hit it off – what with you and her both having experience of owning your own businesses, or, at least, her working with family.’
‘Yes, it’s been good to talk to her, really good, with that common ground. Birmingham – what happened – it had been too tough to talk about it with anyone on a personal level. If I could have done that it would have been with you. Clinically dissecting what happened, with Krish – it’s made me realise I’ve had trust issues.’
‘Was there a woman? Someone you worked with? Did you break up with her just before coming to London?’
‘It wasn’t a woman. It was Josh, the guy who swindled me. At the beginning he wasn’t just someone I met in a business capacity. We were best mates and did everything together, had done for years. That he could do that to me… it shook me to the core. It was all still so raw when I met you so I buried it and avoided getting close to anyone else – man or woman.’
‘Right. It’s just I thought… I sensed a spark between us, right at the start.’ Inwardly I cringed but I had to tackle this. It was now or never. Willow Court closing so suddenly proved you never knew what was around the corner.
‘You did? But all these years… the dates you’ve gone on… I mean, we’re just friends, right – always have been?’ He shivered and snowflakes rested on his shoulders.
‘This is like our first meeting in reverse,’ I mumbled. ‘This time you’re the one unsuitably
dressed.’
‘That split second when our paths crossed – it… it changed my life.’ He stared at me for a moment and then started walking up and down. ‘Okay – I’m going to say it, here goes…’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve regretted that things haven’t gone further between us, that I never tried to tell you how I feel.’
What?
‘I blew my chances, Jess. I know that.’
‘You really liked me?’
He nodded vigorously.
‘But… I don’t understand… I overheard you and Krish – you’re moving out on the 28th of December and in with her brother.’
His eyebrows knitted together. ‘No… no, Jess – it’s Krish who’s on the move. His place is much better than hers, with a balcony and communal garden, they both get on well and I sensed that she wanted to move in, so I made up some excuse about not being able to leave our flat for a while.’
‘But the 28th?’
‘I’m going around for a party they are holding, to celebrate the move.’ His face broke into a smile. ‘Meeting Krish and coming to terms with what happened in Birmingham… serving drinks today at this party… it’s got me excited about work in a way I haven’t felt for years. A while back I put forward the idea to Misty of the business branching out and providing pop-up bars and we’ve been brainstorming it whenever we’ve had time. Krish’s move is when I’ll test out Misty’s Minibar properly. I’ll be serving a selection of snacks and drinks and…’ Eyes sparkling, he chatted for a moment.
‘That all sounds amazing,’ I said. ‘Look at us both moving forwards – me being promoted, you being in charge of an exciting side venture…’
His mouth downturned. ‘It is, Jess. New beginnings, and on that note, I need to up my search for other digs. You and Nik – it showed me I can’t… I just can’t do it anymore.’
‘Do what?’
‘I meant what I said – I really liked you when we first met. I always have and I can’t pretend I don’t want to kiss you on the lips. I can’t watch you go out on any other dates. When we’re on the sofa all I want to do is hold you tight in my arms. When you’ve done something great at work I want me to be the first one you call. I’ve got to move on with my life, Jess. The whole friends thing – it’s been torture.’
Rapidly, I blinked.
‘Your feelings for Nik prove—’
‘Have proved to me what’s really important. What love really means,’ I stuttered. ‘It’s the being there when the sun rises and when it falls, whatever has happened in between.’
He stood still. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t want you to move out. I don’t want you to ever kiss another woman. I want you to hold me tight on the sofa. I want to call you first if I have a great day at work. I want to watch the sun rise with you, and it fall. I want all of that and so much more.’
His face kind of crumpled and he came over and took my hand. ‘You really mean it?’
‘More than anything I’ve ever said,’ I whispered.
‘That night I came home early and Nik was there… I could deny it no longer – I wanted to be the one giving you red roses. When I first moved in, I thought dating other people might help me learn to trust again – it didn’t. I just wasn’t ready, it was to protect my own feelings because of Josh – and meeting you ruined my chances of ever feeling completely attracted to another woman.’ He brushed my cheek with his hand. ‘I love your tangled morning curls, the mole by your lip, the way the end of your nose tilts up at the end… but more importantly I can’t stop thinking about you because of how much you care for your gran, for Buddy, the customers in Under the Tree, and how I’ve never laughed with anyone like I do with you. I’ve so much respect for the life you’ve carved out for yourself, after a difficult start. You make me feel alive, Jess. Accepted for who I am. Like I matter.’
‘Same here,’ I mumbled. ‘All of this with Nik, it got me thinking about what true love really is. When he helped me write the article for the Gazette he made me feel as I was such an amazing person, and I decided it was that. But it’s not. It’s what we’ve got. With you I don’t feel as if I’ve got to be anything but exactly what I am right now, with my mood swings every time of the month and my habit of never replacing the toilet roll.’
‘I hate that,’ he said with a shy smile.
‘We haven’t got a mortgage, high-powered jobs or pension schemes,’ I said, my voice growing stronger as every atom of me tingled. ‘The only pitter patter of little feet belong to Buddy here, but right now in my life, if we’re together, I’m living the dream and it’s real, no fairytale.’
‘There’s only one thing I’d change about the status quo…’ Oliver stepped nearer. He glanced down at my mistletoe jumper. ‘It would be rude not to, right?’ he murmured.
I leant forwards and felt his lips on mine. I let go of his hands and ran one through his hair. I’d been longing to do that. His arm slid around my waist and eased me close. I lost myself except I didn’t feel alone. All sense of time disappeared as if we’d never been without each other. Despite the winter chill heat coursed through my limbs. Buddy barked – and barked again. We drew apart, fingers intertwined, to see him wagging his tail and pulling towards the lounge window.
Cheers and clapping came through the glass. Gran had never looked happier. Pan beamed and theatrically drew a heart in the air. Nik gave a thumbs-up, one hand resting on Alf’s shoulder. Nancy waved a bit of tinsel and Fred punched the air. Glenda smiled and nodded.
Oliver and I looked at each other with a new intimacy.
He was my true Mr Winter and life really was wonderful.
Read on for a sneak peak of The Christmas of Calendar Girls…
1
‘You’ve got to be joking.’ I pulled a face at Davina and Cara, my two best friends.
The cream sofa creaked as I shuffled backwards. Tea slopped over the side of my china cup and trickled onto the saucer. My curly hair and Cara’s bright clothes always seemed out of place in Davina’s orderly, elegant living room.
‘There’s just over a month to do it.’ Davina shrugged. ‘I think it’s one of the Parents’ Association’s best ideas yet.’
‘You would say that.’ I couldn’t help smiling. ‘You came up with it.’
She gave me a flash of pretend offence. ‘I’ve spoken to the Head and she agrees that a homemade advent calendar is a super challenge for Year Three.’
I groaned.
‘And that it will develop the children’s imaginative and motor skills.’
‘Or rather those of the parents. Remember the paint-an-egg competition last Easter?’
Cara yawned. ‘That Fabergé egg by little Tommy looked so authentic.’
‘Mia probably used real jewels.’ Tommy had only joined the class in September, with his lunchbox salmon bagels and tales of clay pigeon shooting with Daddy. And who could ignore his divorced mother, Mia, with her pewter Puffa jacket and pink jeep bearing her beauty salon’s logo?
‘This is to raise money for a worthy cause, remember,’ said Davina. ‘A reasonable entry fee will be charged and the winner gets a small prize.’
‘Which charity?’ asked Cara. She knelt on the laminate floor, stroking Prada, a Persian cat. ‘I’ve not kept up to speed lately.’
Cara not up to speed? That was like saying Lewis Hamilton had been cautioned for driving too slowly.
‘Cancer Research,’ said Davina. In memory of…’
We all looked at each other. One month, Polly had been there. The next she hadn’t. It must have been terrible for her husband. Indeed, I knew how that felt. And I’d tried to protect Lily but the school secretary’s death was always going to make her think of her dad.
At the start, moving away from the centre of London – away from our memories of Adam – had diverted me. I envisaged cul-de-sacs where Lily would make friends and neat squares of garden to play on and Alderston village was just like that. The timing was perfect, as she was five years old and had just l
eft nursery and started primary school. A new home. A fresh start. That’s when I met Davina and Cara.
But three years later and the hurt still unexpectedly surfaced. Not as frequently as it used to but I’d never get used to that punch to the stomach. Like last week when Adam’s favourite rugby team were on the television and won their match. Or yesterday when Lily laughed – blissfully unaffected by the fact she’d given the loudest, daddy-like snort.
I should have got used to it by now: the bedroom floor minus discarded socks; the bathroom cabinet missing shaving gel; the absence of off-tune whistling. Before his diagnosis Adam used to whistle a lot.
Our new home was very different to the London pad Adam and I had excitedly bought two years after we’d first met. Mum and Dad had given us a lump sum and said we could use it to spend on a honeymoon or a deposit for a house. We’d not even had to discuss which option to choose. Our relationship was like that. We agreed on the small and big things – like cream going on scones first and London being an exciting, vibrant place to bring up children. However, since his death, I wanted the quiet life. Somewhere to heal my wounds and provide a gentle upbringing for Lily.
Yes, things had changed. As Lily had grown, I enjoyed her arms round me instead of his. They were just strong enough to push me forwards in time when, now and again, I longed to jump back.
‘But all those little doors – twenty-four!’ I said brightly. ‘Even Cara will struggle with that, and we know there’s nothing she can’t make out of a toilet roll and a cereal box.’
‘Apart from a car that doesn’t cut out in weather this cold. Now if I could create one of those…’
Playfully I pushed her shoulder. Dear Cara was ever modest. She’d warmly introduced her eldest daughter, Hannah, that first day in the playground, then beckoned over Davina with her twins, Jasper and Arlo. I was dressed up for a meeting to interview someone about the latest feature I was writing. Davina was dressed up just because. In jeans and trainers, Cara made some comment about herself never being a yummy mummy. I told her she looked great but said being a chummy mummy counted for much more. We’d had to explain to the children that the word chum meant friend. Appropriately, Cara meant friend in Irish. Her great-grandparents had come over from Belfast and she’d often told stories of their legendary hospitality. She must have inherited it.
The Winter We Met Page 29