All I Want For Christmas

by Willis, Susan

  The market was in full flow as she hung up her jacket and the owner of the bookstall told her how much she’d been missed. She smiled gratefully and reassured him she was well enough to return to work. There was a definite festive buzz in the market as she walked around to the front of the stall, waving across at Darren and watching the queue form as soon as Santa’s grotto opened its door. Ellie fondly watched a line of small children with shiny faces excitedly waiting for their turn to sit on his knee and be given a present.

  Ellie smiled, remembering when she was five and her first visit to see Santa in their small Yorkshire village hall with her mum. Fully believing in Father Christmas, she’d wondered how her father had actually known the Santa Claus man sitting in the chair giving out presents to everyone.

  Now she grinned, knowing full well that the man who dressed as Santa every year was a good friend of her father’s. Ellie sighed with pleasure at the thought of seeing her parents later that day. Although she’d grown used to living away from home, she still missed them dearly. Christmas carols bleated out of the loudspeaker and, although it was the same set of carols over and over again throughout the day, Ellie hummed along to her favourite, “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem”. She looked across at the big pine tree by the café, with its traditional decorations and twinkly lights, then inhaled the Christmassy waft from the pine needles. Happily, she remembered meeting Tom there weeks ago and hugged herself with anticipation at seeing them all later, and prayed that her parents would like him as much as she did.

  *

  Ellie sat opposite Tom at the square table in the restaurant while her father, Jack, and mother, Angela, sat on her right and left hand side. She’d proudly introduced her parents to Tom as they entered the light, spacious room and were shown to the table that Jack had reserved. With warm, flushed cheeks from loving hugs in Jack’s strong arms, Ellie grinned good-humouredly around the table. ‘My favourite three people all at the same table,’ she said, ‘I’ve been dying for Tom to meet you both.’

  Tom smiled casually at her parents. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and I’ve been looking forward to meeting the people responsible for bringing Ellie into the world and hence into my life.’

  Ellie noticed her father draw his thick grey eyebrows together as he studied Tom and knew he was trying to form an opinion. Jack had told her often enough over the years that he prided himself in the fact that he could weigh up people’s characters within the first few minutes of meeting them. Ellie decided he was doing just that.

  Her mother looked radiant in a pale blue suit and cream silk blouse. The skirt just swept below Angela’s knees and had Tom roaming his eyes up and down Angela’s long legs as they’d walked into the restaurant.

  Angela sat back in her chair with her legs demurely crossed and smiled welcomingly at Tom. ‘Well thank you, Tom,’ she murmured. ‘We’ve been listening to Ellie’s news about you on the telephone every week. I’m glad we’ve got the chance to get to know you, too.’

  Tom grinned and nodded. ‘Yep, and now that we’ve met,’ he said, turning towards Angela, ‘I can see where Ellie gets her good looks from. I can’t believe that you’re her mother. Watching you both together, well, you could be sisters.’

  Ellie saw her mother place a small hand to her neck and giggle shyly at Tom while Ellie heard a low, soft growl escape her father’s throat.

  The waiter appeared and Jack took control of ordering red and white wine while discussions over the menu took place and the slightly tense atmosphere lightened. Ellie breathed out slowly - it was going to be all right. Tom had already won her mother over and her father, Ellie hoped, after a few glasses of wine, would soon come around to liking Tom. He had to, Ellie mused, smiling adoringly at Tom, who was wearing the same smart shirt he’d worn on their first date together. I mean, what could her father possibly find to dislike about her new boyfriend? He was simply perfect.

  As Tom recommended the breaded garlic mushrooms to Angela, who tittered and declined, using the excuse that she had to watch her figure, Ellie caught Tom’s eye and he winked at her. She squeezed her knees together, feeling the effects of the red wine slacken her shoulders and make her feel mellow with longing for their chance to be alone together in bed.

  Tom had bent down to pick up her mother’s napkin, which had fallen to the floor, when the waiter placed their starters on the table. Ellie knew Tom was making a monumental effort, which made her love him all the more.

  Ellie turned to her father and struck up a conversation about the three run-down village houses he’d recently bought to re-develop. Jack Ferguson was an experienced property developer in Yorkshire and his reputation for quality building went before him. In his late fifties he was, Ellie thought, still a ruggedly handsome man who worshipped her mother to the point of distraction. It was only lately that, as her feelings of love had grown for Tom, she’d begun to recognise the same tender loving looks that passed between her parents.

  When her father refused the second glass of wine that Tom offered to pour, Ellie looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I’m driving home later,’ Jack explained. ‘I know we were going to stay over at The Malmaison tonight, but I’ve got to be back for a meeting in the morning. I’ve told your mum she can stay over and maybe take you shopping tomorrow, but she wants to come home with me. I’m sorry, darling, it’s just a flying visit, but it just can’t be helped.’

  ‘Aww, Dad,’ Ellie pouted. But knowing it wasn’t long until Christmas, she cheered her spirits as they made plans for the holidays.

  By the end of the meal they were all chatting freely and Angela recalled Ellie’s childhood antics. Good-humouredly Ellie protested at the trip down memory lane, but she watched Tom’s eyes shining as he encouraged them to relate the happy memories.

  When Jack had paid the bill and stiffly refused any contribution from Tom, Angela and Tom headed off separately to the toilets, and Ellie was left alone with her father. Slightly tipsy with the wine she’d drunk, she slid her arm through his, loving the feel of his Argyle sweater. ‘Well, Dad,’ she asked, ‘what do you think of Tom – isn’t he lovely?’

  Jack drew his eyebrows together and patted her hand. She saw the serious expression spread across his face. It was the one he wore when he was going to give one of his stern lectures. But then Ellie watched his shoulders slump slightly, almost in defeat.

  He sighed. ‘Ellie, love, you’re old enough now to know your own mind, but I have to say that Tom doesn’t fill me with confidence. I’m not sure he’s the type of man to look after you very well. He appears to be very blasé about money, or the lack of it.’

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Jack raised his hand with a knowing look in his eyes, as though he was seeking permission to carry on. Ellie nodded sadly, realising he had more to say.

  ‘And that’s coupled with the fact that he doesn’t seem to have a profession or definite career at the age of thirty,’ he warned. ‘Well, I just want you to be careful, sweetheart. Tom looks to me like what we used to call in the 60’s a good-looking playboy…’

  Jack then stood up to pull on his sheepskin jacket as Angela and Tom approached the table laughing. They all wrapped themselves up in their winter coats and jackets. Outside the restaurant Ellie heard her mother offering Tom a Yorkshire welcome for the future if he ever wanted to come to visit with Ellie, and then Jack shook Tom’s hand brusquely as they left to head down to the car park.

  *

  ‘Noooo,’ Ellie squealed, ‘they both loved you!’

  Tom wasn’t sure and frowned, remembering an old film, “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner”, with Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. They’d played concerned parents to their daughter who had brought home a black man, foreseeing the problems surrounding mixed race marriages. But, Tom thought, I’m not black, and wondered why Jack had seemed to take an instant dislike to him.

  ‘Well, maybe your mum did,’ he muttered darkly, ‘but your father certainly didn’t.’

  Thinking
of Angela, Tom cast his mind back to his fourteenth birthday and how, at an earlier age than most, he lost his virginity. Mrs Jennings had lived at the top of their street in Brighton, she had very long legs and always wore mini-skirts and, although he never knew her exact age, he figured she was in her late twenties. She’d called at the house one day to see his mother, but finding she wasn't at home she told Tom about the problem with her husband’s fish tank. Tom had offered to look at it and after he’d diagnosed a split in the air pipe he taped it up temporarily while she explained that her husband was working in Wales. Gently Tom placed the fish back into the tank, when suddenly she’d brushed her arm across the zip on his trousers. Tom had gasped and there’d been an awkward silence at their close proximity, as though she was waiting for his reaction. He’d grinned and within seconds she’d latched her mouth on to his. He’d felt her small, pert breasts press against his chest and two hard nipples stand out through her low-cut silky blouse. She kissed him with her mouth wide open and he had copied, trying to do the same. When Tom had felt her little tongue darting in and out of his mouth, the pulsating in his groin intensified to such a pitch that he’d felt fit to burst. She’d taken his hand and led him to her bedroom and made love to him with experienced ease. During the next six months Mrs Jennings had her fish tank cleaned at least once a week until her husband came home, and Tom had learnt the art of making love to perfection.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Ellie asked as she lay naked in his arms on the settee.

  They’d hurried through the flat, tearing at each other’s clothes until they reached the settee and collapsed on to it in a heap of sweaty urgency. After only three days apart Tom had hungered for her young body until his whole insides ached and he could tell by the way she cried out his name that she felt equally rampant.

  With her legs entwined through Tom’s and lying on top of his broad, smooth chest, Ellie purred, feeling as though she was in heaven. She glanced around the lounge with the gas fire glowing in the semi-darkness and the small, artificial Christmas tree on top of her desk. The silver tinsel seemed to twinkle in her eyes and she sighed happily, knowing that she’d never forget this special time between them. Lifting herself up on one elbow, she leaned over him to reach the coffee table and picked a satsuma out of the bowl while reiterating the fact that her parents had liked him and there was nothing to worry about. She snuggled back on to him and began to peel the satsuma, inhaling the fruity smell that she always associated with Christmas.

  ‘You can’t still be hungry after the meal we’ve just had. You’d better not get fat, mind,’ Tom warned, ‘or I’ll be off like a shot.’

  Ellie popped a segment into her mouth. ‘No,’ she giggled, ‘I’ve just got a sour taste from the red wine.’

  Tom shook his head when she offered him a piece and then lifted one of her breasts up towards his mouth. He felt her shake her head slightly and click her tongue.

  He teased playfully, ‘Now, these are more like Jaffa oranges than piddling satsumas,’ he said and groaned. ‘Aw, don’t be selfish, Ellie. You’ve got something to suck on so I’m just doing the same.’

  She laughed out loud and coughed a little on a segment as he covered her nipple with his mouth. Tom moaned deep in his throat at the sheer ecstasy of the hardened nipple in his mouth, watching her automatically rub her thighs together in desire. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her drop the half-eaten satsuma to the floor as she slid on top of him, groaning and wet with desire, and pulled him into her.

  Later, as Tom sat on the end of the settee pulling on his crumpled shirt, Ellie kneeled behind him, stroking the broad span of his back. She wanted to beg him not to leave and stay the night with her. But, when he’d told her it was time for him to go she’d hesitated and sighed, not being able to understand why there was such a rush to go back to an empty house. Unless, of course, she thought, he was doing something else tonight. They’d had such a lovely day together and she didn’t want it spoilt if he took umbrage at her request, especially as he’d already done so much by meeting her parents.

  Ellie knew it was early in any relationship to be meeting each other’s families and wondered more about his. She knew his wife was gone, but what about his parents or siblings? Did he have any, and if so, where were they? Maybe, she thought, he couldn’t bear their company at this horrible time of year, with his dreadful memories. She felt her insides twist with sympathy for him and quickly decided on a plan.

  ‘Tom,’ she said, ‘I was just thinking about Christmas Day and wondered what your plans are?’

  He turned to face her as he pulled on his socks. ‘Well,’ he hedged, willing himself to stay calm.

  Ellie ran her hand down the back of his hair. ‘It’s just, well, I’m thinking of staying here this year rather than going to Yorkshire,’ she said, ‘And I thought I could make us a Christmas lunch here in the flat. I could cook a turkey with all the trimmings.’

  Tom stood up, tucking his shirt into the waistband of his trousers. His mind raced and he felt his stomach lurch. What in God’s name was he going to say? He stared down at her kneeling naked on the settee, her red curls hung loose around her beautiful face as she held her palms up towards him with her head on one side. She looked like a wanton angel that had fallen from the top of the tree and he sighed heavily. It was almost as though she was begging for him and he swallowed hard.

  ‘Oh, there’s no need for that,’ he muttered, bending down to run his hand through her dishevelled hair. ‘It’s only one day; a mere 24 hours and then it’s over.’

  ‘Please, Tom,’ she coaxed, taking his other hand and cupping it snugly around her breast. ‘I can’t bear to think of you being alone on Christmas Day.’

  Tom felt every inch of self-control leave his body. He smiled at her and melted while murmuring his agreement.

  Chapter Ten

  Everyone at Anne’s workplace, including herself, was excited and longing for the Christmas holiday break. The chef was developing new ready-meals for the following spring, which had seemed strange when she’d first started working for him until he explained that new product ideas were usually worked upon months in advance. She’d been out to supermarkets nearly every day that week with shopping lists for spring vegetables, herbs and summer seasonings, which seemed a strange thing to be doing during the week before Christmas when it was cold and wintery. Especially, she mused, as the shops were crammed with her favourite winter vegetables, sprouts, turnips and parsnips.

  Placing a bag of frozen asparagus into the freezer for the chef, Anne left the development kitchen to join Sharon for lunch in the canteen. It seemed a long time since their summer holidays and Anne felt weary of the week-to-week routine. She longed to relax at home with Tom. When she entered the small canteen adjacent to the factory entrance doors, Sharon was already sitting at one of the white melamine tables in the corner of the room next to a shabby-looking Christmas tree.

  ‘Hiya,’ Anne said, brushing past the tree and gently touching one of the plastic balls that hung from the branches. It wasn’t a patch on the new tree she’d bought and as she slid on to the hard plastic chair opposite Sharon she smiled a look of smug satisfaction at her memories of the night Tom had helped her dress the tree.

  Sharon raised an eyebrow, looking around the small, cheerless room. ‘I see the company has gone to great lengths again and spent a small fortune on Christmas decorations.’

  Anne giggled at her friend’s sarcasm. ‘Yeah, it’s the same tree we’ve had for over ten years now,’ she said, staring up at two green streamers crossing the ceiling, and the collection of balloons that were already beginning to deflate. ‘But maybe they’re keeping the money aside for a Christmas party like last year when we all got drink vouchers.’

  Sharon opened her packet of sandwiches and groaned. ‘Yes, but we’ve always got to wait until January when the factory quietens down for the party, which has nothing to do with Christmas as it’s over and done with by then.’

  Anne could tell by the
look on Sharon’s face that she wasn’t in a particularly good mood, but knowing her sulks never lasted for long, she tried to cheer her friend up. Sharon usually loved Christmas, so Anne told her about the new tree she’d bought and how Tom had been delighted with the red decorations and the effort she’d made.

  Sharon grunted between taking big mouthfuls of her sandwich as she listened without comment.

  Anne continued, ‘The chef has been telling me how he always cooks a goose on Christmas Day rather than turkey, which sounds exotic and exciting. I’m wondering whether to try it. But,’ she paused, watching Sharon draw her eyebrows together in a frown, ‘what if I make a mess of it and ruin Christmas dinner by cooking something new? I mean, I’m confident about cooking a turkey and I really want the whole day to be perfect.’

  Sharon tutted loudly and looked away from her towards the doorway. The canteen began to fill up with factory workers laughing and calling their greetings across the room. Anne waved to a few of their friends, who were all commenting on the drab decorations. She began to eat the tuna salad and tried to ignore the miserable expression on Sharon’s face.

  Crunching into a slice of cucumber Anne tried again. ‘I’m still not certain what present to buy for Tom. I’d set myself a budget, but have already over-stepped it by buying the tree. I know he’d love one of the new tablets to write with, so he won’t be restricted to working at the computer,’ she said, watching Sharon swallow the last of her sandwich. ‘He reckons he’d be able to write in other locations while he is setting scenes and watching people. It’s how he makes up his characters, you see.’