The Christmas Stocking and Other Stories

by Katie Fforde

  ‘And I hope’, said Fitz, ‘that it gave them a stomach ache to end all stomach aches.’

  Mac began to laugh. ‘Of course you were a fool to leave the bag where the dogs could get it, but now I know my Christmas dinner went to a good home I don’t mind missing it.’

  When Mac and Stella were on their second glass of wine (Fitz had moved on to water) Stella said, ‘I have a mad idea.’

  ‘Join the club,’ said Mac. ‘You fit right into this family.’

  ‘I’ve got some bits and pieces. I bought a bumper pack of butcher’s sausages from the farmers’ market and put them in the freezer. And there are some posh sausage rolls – also from the market – and all sorts of vegetables. We could have another Christmas dinner tomorrow, with all the usual trimmings? We’d have to use today’s turkey though.’

  ‘Well, there’s a lovely suggestion. Can I come?’ said Mac. ‘I do have a lot of fun in my care home but my partner in crime has gone to her family for Christmas and won’t be back until the day after Boxing Day.’

  ‘Of course! I meant both of you.’ She turned to Fitz. ‘Or are you going to your girlfriend’s for Boxing Day?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I’d be delighted to come back tomorrow, if you can stand another day of doggy hell.’

  ‘I love dogs, and I think Tris and Izzy are just misunderstood,’ Stella said. ‘Now I’ll go and get the puddings,’ she added, thinking her unexpected Christmas was a lot nicer than her expected one.

  ‘That was quite the loveliest Christmas meal I’ve had for a long time,’ said Mac. ‘Last year we had it with Fiona – that’s Fitz’s girlfriend – and it wasn’t nearly such fun.’

  ‘Mother!’ said Fitz, more exasperated than offended.

  ‘Everyone had gone to a lot of trouble,’ his mother explained, ‘and it was the perfect Christmas, it’s just I’ve had more fun this year. But can you take me home now? I’m tired and I need my bed.’

  But Fitz made his mother sit down by the fire, both the dogs’ heads on her lap, while he helped Stella ferry the detritus into the kitchen.

  ‘This has been so kind of you,’ he said. ‘My mother really has had a brilliant time. She speaks her mind so we’d know if she hadn’t.’

  ‘She explained to me about the filter, how when you get old you lose it and say exactly what you think.’

  Fitz laughed loudly. ‘I’m sure that’s all true but I promise you, my mother never had a filter. She’s always made her feelings clear about everything.’

  ‘I rather thought that was the case. She’s so bright I’m sure she’s got every one of her marbles.’

  ‘She has but they’ve always been in a very random order.’ He sighed. ‘I’d better get her back. Would it be all right if I left the dogs here until I can pick them up later?’

  Just for a few seconds Stella let herself imagine what might happen. He would come back, it would be late, she’d offer him a drink – he could walk home from here and had only had a glass of stout to last him all day. They’d sit in front of the fire, the room lit only by fairy lights and flames. One thing would lead to another.

  ‘Don’t worry!’ she said brightly. ‘Why don’t you leave the dogs here overnight? I’m sure they’ll be fine. They can sleep in the boot room. The garden is dog proof for when they need to go out.’

  He frowned down at her. ‘Are you sure?’ He seemed to think she was making a generous gesture when, in fact, she was just protecting herself, and him, from something bad happening.

  ‘Absolutely! Now what time will you bring your mother? And it might be an idea to tell your girlfriend you’re coming here again tomorrow? She’s coming down the day after tomorrow, isn’t she? Really, it’s one of those situations—’

  He put up a hand. ‘I know. That if you don’t say something right at the start, it all gets misconstrued.’

  ‘So, would about twelve o’clock work for you both, do you think?’

  ‘It would be perfect.’

  He kissed her cheek. But it was only a peck on the cheek, she told herself. Nothing to get worried about.

  When Stella had closed the door behind Fitz and his mother she had intended to finish the clearing up but instead she found herself in the sitting room on the old leather sofa in front of the fire. Both dogs had snuck up beside her, seemingly fine about being abandoned by their owners.

  Stella had a lot to think about and today had somehow made the decision harder. She felt so torn.

  In some ways it would have been easy for her to look back on the day and think how lovely it had been – because it had been. But was one lovely Christmas Day with strangers, who had rapidly come to feel like friends, really a sign that she could be happy in the country, in this house? Or was it just a weird blip and would the rest of her life here be lonely?

  Fitz and her feelings for him definitely complicated matters. He was so much fun, witty, warm, kind to his mother (always a sign of a nice boy) and he loved animals. They seemed to have a connection. But he wasn’t free and so was completely off limits.

  But even if he had been free, and had reciprocated her feelings, it wouldn’t be right to give up everything and move just because of that. After all, he might sell his mother’s house, and not even be around at weekends. She’d be left alone, far from her support system.

  No, she had to take him right out of the equation. She had to move down here because she wanted to, because it was the right thing to do.

  Tristan’s head moved so it took up even more of her lap. What was she going to do about these dogs?

  Stella decided not to tell Mac and Fitz that the dogs had spent the night on her bed. It really wasn’t important. She did, however, intend to boast about getting up early and letting them drag her up on to the common for a Boxing Day walk.

  At first she’d been a bit worried about letting them off but she’d filled her father’s old coat with dog treats, so they came back willingly every time she called. She had really enjoyed the experience.

  She hadn’t quite decided if she should report that the dogs had turned the television on for themselves by stepping on the remote, in order to get at a couple of Welsh cakes that had been left in the sitting room. Technically this was quite clever but morally it was frowned upon.

  Once home, and in spite of her inability to shut the dogs in the boot room (even with the stable door open, they howled heartbreakingly), Stella managed to prepare a passable meal. It was putting it on the table that would be the real challenge, she realised, and decided to wait until people were there to guard it before she did so.

  She was just putting the finishing touches to her make-up, glad to think that Fitz would see her looking a bit better than she had the previous day, when the bell went.

  Fitz and Mac were a bit early, but that was a good thing. They could look after the dogs while she basted the roast potatoes and got the sausages in the oven. She’d finally coaxed Tristan and Isolde into the boot room (their prison, as they saw it), surrounded by biscuits and ancient dog chews, but now they were trying to make a break for it by jumping over the top of the stable door. The house was filled with their deep barks, which made them sound as if they were enormous.

  She opened the door with a happy smile, only letting it falter for a nanosecond when she realised too late that it was a total stranger on the doorstep. She had a fair idea who this woman was. Stella did slightly wish she wasn’t still wearing the casual black cords and deep pink sweater she’d walked the dogs in but it was too late to worry about that.

  ‘Hello?’ she said.

  The woman was a little younger than she was, possibly about twenty-eight, Stella reckoned, and a bit thinner. Also, she looked properly groomed and elegant in a new-looking Barbour jacket, long boots and a handbag with a lot of gold bits on it. However, as glamorous as she was, she did not look comfortable. ‘Er – hi – you don’t know me but I’m Fiona, Fitz’s girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh! Come in! Fitz has talked a lot about you.’ This wasn’t true b
ut it was only a white lie. ‘Have you come to join us for our second go at Christmas lunch?’

  ‘Is that all right?’ Fiona seemed surprised.

  ‘The more the merrier. It’s all a bit makeshift, I’m afraid. Let me take your coat.’

  The dogs were going mad but the one thing Fitz had impressed upon Stella about Fiona was that she wasn’t keen on them. They would have to stay where they were. And at least they’d stopped barking, and were just flinging themselves against the door in excitement to greet the new arrival.

  ‘Did you tell Fitz you were coming?’

  There was a tiny, very revealing pause. It meant Fiona wasn’t entirely sure how Fitz would react. ‘No, I thought I’d make it a surprise.’

  ‘Lovely! I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Now what can I get you to drink? I’ve got a bottle of Prosecco?’ she went on.

  ‘It’s a bit early—’

  ‘Just before twelve, not at all early considering it’s Christmas.’ There was no way Stella would get through this without alcohol, but she hadn’t quite sunk to the level of tippling in the kitchen. Yet.

  Having checked that nothing was burning, or likely to give anyone salmonella, she brought the Prosecco and a couple of glasses through to where Fiona was sitting huddled next to the wood burner.

  ‘I haven’t got champagne flutes, I’m afraid. This was my father’s house and I’m just staying in it for Christmas. I think. Now, let me get a look at the fire. It’s not really doing its thing, is it?’

  Fortunately the stove was obedient and more flames flickered the moment she opened up the draught. If only the dogs were so biddable, she thought, straightening up.

  Prosecco poured into Paris goblets (Fiona winced only slightly as Stella handed her one), the two women sat opposite each other while the dogs bounced against the door of the boot room. Stella took a sip of her drink and then realised that making conversation with a complete stranger (who did seem just a little anxious and possibly a bit hostile) while the dogs were so unsettled was impossible.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘I’ll have to see if I can shut them up. Although,’ she added hopefully, ‘they would be calmer if they were with us?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t cope with dogs unless they’re really well behaved. My father has shooting dogs and they hardly ever come into the house. Only for photos. But they never make a sound.’

  Stella wondered what the hell she could do. Yesterday having her father’s slippers to chew on had calmed them down. She ran upstairs to see whether she could find any other old shoes of his.

  She peered into the wardrobe to see what had escaped the charity-shop bag. (The slippers had been deemed too disreputable to put in.) Shoe-wise, there was only one pair of very good leather shoes, hardly worn. Now why had her sister not sent these off to Longfield Hospice? It was, she realised, because Annabelle planned to put them on eBay. They were very nice shoes, weighed a ton and had possibly cost hundreds of pounds.

  Stella gulped, picked up the shoes and took them downstairs. She’d have to make some excuse to Annabel. Maybe she’d have forgotten about them, Stella hoped.

  Stella rejoined Fiona by the fire.

  ‘So what did you do to quieten the dogs?’ Fiona asked. ‘It seems to have worked.’

  ‘I just gave them something to occupy them. I wonder where on earth Fitz and his mother are? They’re late!’

  ‘They’re always late if his mother is involved,’ said Fiona. ‘I think it’s something to do with me.’

  ‘So as she doesn’t know you’re here, that can’t be true. More Prosecco?’ Stella didn’t wait for her to answer, she just filled up her glass.

  She’d gone back into the kitchen ostensibly to check on the dinner but really to escape Fiona, with whom she seemed to have nothing in common, when she heard them arrive.

  Fiona had answered the door.

  Stella hovered, listening to the ‘Surprise!’ and ‘Oh, hello, darling’ which had more surprise than delight about them, as long as she could. Then she emerged.

  ‘Isn’t this lovely!’ she said, her voice full of welcome and Christmas spirit. ‘Fitz and Fiona can be together for Christmas after all!’

  ‘Delightful,’ said Fitz’s mother. ‘Now where are my dogs? You haven’t shut them in the car, have you?’ Mac’s blue eyes pierced Stella’s. ‘They hate that.’

  Just then, possibly hearing the voices of their loved ones, the dogs started to bark.

  ‘I’ll sort them out,’ said Fitz.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ said Fiona.

  ‘I’ll get you a drink,’ said Stella to Mac.

  Stella chose to ignore the shouts of dismay that were coming from the boot room. It was Christmas, she was doing her best, and she had given the dogs the shoes – it wasn’t as if they’d stolen them.

  She and Mac were sitting on the sofa when Fitz came in with one of the dogs on a lead. Fiona brought in the other.

  Fiona was seething with indignation. ‘You’ll never guess what we found them doing.’

  Stella didn’t have to guess, she knew perfectly well. ‘I gave the shoes to the dogs,’ she said defiantly. ‘I knew it would keep them quiet.’

  Fiona turned on her. ‘But have you any idea how much those shoes cost? What a waste.’

  Stella took a breath but was saved from having to answer by the doorbell ringing.

  ‘Who on earth can that be?’ said Fitz, who didn’t seem to be having a nice time.

  ‘I’ll open it and see,’ said Stella, who’d have welcomed even a chugger collecting money for a phony charity just then. But as she got nearer to the front door she realised that on Boxing Day it probably wasn’t someone who could be sent away with a couple of pounds.

  It was her boyfriend from London.

  ‘Piers!’ she said. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  He smiled, his charming, slightly crooked smile that never failed to make her stomach flip. He’d grown a beard since she’d last seen him and seemed to be developing a bit of a hipster look with skinny jeans, a lumberjack shirt and braces. ‘Annabel called me. She thought you needed rescuing. And by the sound of it, you do!’

  But this time her stomach didn’t flip. It could have been his new look, or because she was too annoyed with her sister and him. ‘I don’t need rescuing at all!’ she said sharply. ‘But I suppose you’d better come in.’

  ‘Yah!’ he said, his upper-class charm fading a bit in the face of her irritation. ‘I’ve driven down from London just to see you, to be with you at Christmas.’

  ‘We were on a break, Piers! And you showed no interest in spending Christmas with me when I sent you an email about my plans at the beginning of the month! In fact you said you’d rather stick pins in your eyes than spend Christmas in the country.’

  He shrugged. ‘Annabel said you needed me. Of course I came!’

  ‘You’d better come in then. Put your coat on one of those hooks.’ She flipped a hand. ‘Now, come through.’

  There seemed nothing to be done about it. She brought him into the sitting room where at least the dogs were now quiet. Izzy was sitting with her head on Mac’s lap, and Tris had snuck up on the sofa behind Fitz. Fiona, sitting next to Fritz, was looking pained. Stella felt a flicker of sympathy for her. She didn’t like dogs and one was sitting very near her.

  ‘This is Piers, come to join us for the day,’ Stella announced.

  ‘And who is Piers?’ asked Mac, very stately all of a sudden. ‘Is he your man?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fiona, suddenly looking a bit happier. ‘Please introduce us properly.’

  ‘OK, but I’ll have to be quick, there’s a meal to be served. Mrs Fitzgerald—’

  ‘Fitzherbert,’ corrected Fitz.

  ‘Call me Mac,’ said Mac, examining Piers intently.

  ‘And this is Fiona, who’s Fitz’s’ – she gestured with her hand – ‘girlfriend. And this is Fitz, short for Fitzherbert, obviously. Now I must get back to the dinner.’

  She
allowed herself a small panic attack in the kitchen and soothed herself by tasting the gravy, which was spectacular. Strengthened, she added another plate to the pile she was warming by turns and wondered if she’d have enough chairs. She’d remembered there was one in the spare room when Fitz came in.

  ‘Well! This wasn’t what we expected, now was it!’ he declared. ‘Two unexpected guests!’

  Because he was indignant, Stella felt more generous. ‘No, but we’ve got loads of food and it’s Christmas: we can’t turn them away.’

  ‘Indeed not. Now what can I do to help?’

  His matter-of-fact presence was very soothing. ‘If you could just go upstairs and get a chair out of the spare room. It’s the one opposite the bathroom. And actually, maybe you’d better get the one out of the bathroom too. Not both at the same time, obviously.’

  No sooner had Fitz gone than Piers appeared. ‘So, Stellar Stella? What do I have to do to get a drink?’

  She used to love this pet name for her but now it fell flat. ‘Oh, sorry. I was preoccupied with chairs. Help yourself.’ She gestured to the array of alcohol on the dresser. It was a combination of what Fitz had brought and what was left over from her father’s time. ‘I’m not sure what’s there but there’s wine on the table in the dining room, if you’d prefer that.’

  ‘I could do with a Scotch,’ said Piers. ‘The traffic was surprisingly bad on the way down.’

  ‘Have a look.’ It had suddenly dawned on her that he was expecting to stay the night and planned to drink all day. Well, he could go in the spare room.

  ‘Oh!’ said Piers, sorting through bottles. ‘There’s the remains of a really good bottle of Madeira here. Shame there’s only a drop left.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Stella, who’d put most of it in the gravy, which was why it was so sensational.

  ‘So, how’s it been down here on your own? Lonely, I bet,’ said Piers.

  Stella thought about it. ‘A little lonely. At first.’

  ‘And who are these mad people you’ve hooked up with?’