The Little Christmas Kitchen

by Jenny Oliver

  As soon as they’d put the phone down it had rung again. And when Ella had heard her grandmother Julie’s voice on the phone something inside of her switched, like she knew that Christmas would never be the same again.

  She remembered her mum walking back from the phone box, remembered seeing her fumble to put the phone back on the hook, dropping it twice and slamming it down in the end to make sure it stayed in place.

  Her sister had been ill for a while she told them, she hadn’t wanted Sophie to know because she had too much to worry about what with the divorce and their dad’s relationship with Veronica.

  When her mum had dropped into a chair opposite Ella and asked the table top why no one had warned her, Ella, completely out of her depth, had leant forward, put her hand on her mum’s and said that she supposed it was because we were all always waiting for a miracle. She’d heard it said on Sunset Beach or The Bold and the Beautiful – one of the dreadful American soaps that they all watched at school that Ella would devour for its glittering, melodramatic escapism – but her mum had looked at her like it was completely inappropriate and gone upstairs to start packing on her own.

  They’d all flown back on Christmas Day.

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’ her mum asked, standing up from the table and going over to the fridge to pull out some bowls of olives, sundried tomatoes and artichoke hearts in olive oil without waiting for an answer.

  As she started to cut great chunks of white bread, it felt like she was buying them both some time. Like some memories were so precious, so rarely touched, it was like they were made of eggshell and you had to lift the lid off really gently.

  The flight home had been horrendous. Her mum had leant her head against the window, her hair lank and greasy, her eyes hidden behind massive Deirdre Barlow sunglasses that she must had plucked out of a drawer from the eighties. Maddy had been snuggled up next to her, her face buried in her soft grey woollen jumper. Ella had sat in the aisle seat. Her fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest. Her teeth were clenched without her realising and the stewardess had leant down and asked if she was ok, whether she was afraid of flying.

  Ella had shaken her head. She wasn’t afraid. The stewardess had smiled, stroked her hair with her hand and said, ‘Well Merry Christmas, then.’

  But Ella wasn’t thinking about Christmas, or her aunt, or anything like that. She had been consumed by just one thought, that please, just please don’t let her dad come to the funeral.

  CHAPTER 26

  MADDY

  The music kicked off again as Maddy slid down from the bar, wiping her sweaty, alcohol laced hair back from her face and awkwardly readjusting her boob tube as her mind ran through better scenarios for bumping into her father.

  But if he cared about the setting he didn’t show it, bridging the gap between them he stepped forward to hug her, but as he did Maddy took an uncertain step back, bumping into the bar and holding out her hand to shake instead.

  The perfect gentleman, her father just smoothly took hold of her hand, his fingers cool and his grip strong, and said, ‘It’s good to see you, honey.’

  Maddy gave her boob tube another awkward tug and glanced at Veronica standing behind him dressed in what looked like Chanel.

  Before she had a chance to say anything back, Mack appeared and slapped her dad on the shoulder saying, ‘Edward, good to see you old man. Maddy darling, get this man anything he wants.’ Then gesturing to one of the big crowds of suits in the middle of the room swigging champagne straight from the bottle and lining up the tequila, he added, ‘His lot have practically kept this place afloat.’

  Maddy tucked her hair behind her ear, watching her dad laugh good naturally with Mack, Veronica standing back, her perfect hair, couture black dress and huge jewelled necklace seeming out of place in the chaos of the bar yet somehow she still managed to radiate an aloof magnetism that had every man in the place glancing her way. Unable to think of what was appropriate to say, Maddy found herself starting to ask what drinks they wanted.

  ‘Do you know, actually Mack–’ her dad held up a hand to stop her. ‘What I’d really appreciate is a couple of minutes just to chat to my daughter.’

  Mack thought he was having a laugh. Then when her dad shrugged to show it was no joke, Mack turned to Maddy and said, ‘Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘What, that he was your father?’

  Maddy rolled her eyes, ‘No, that you knew him.’

  ‘Everyone round here knows Eddie. Christ, if you want to be a singer why haven’t you gone straight to him?’

  Maddy scuffed the floor with her foot, mortified. Telling her dad she wanted to be a singer was like telling the Queen she wanted to own Buckingham Palace someday. It was his industry, his contacts, his business. Edward Davenport was CEO of one of the largest talent agencies in the UK. A business he’d scrabbled to grow from nothing, supported by Maddy’s mum who’d made sandwiches and cakes for local cafes and offices, taken in ironing and made curtains while their dad sat with the phone glued to his ear and Maddy and Ella had watched TV and lived off lentil soup in a house that had cracks in the windows and carpet repurposed from the closed-down department store up the road. Now her dad built megastars, branded icons, plucked boy bands from Butlins obscurity and made them global phenomenons.

  He was the last person Maddy wanted to know about her tiny precious kernel of a dream.

  As her dad took his usual confident control of the situation, ushering her to one of the empty booths at the front of the bar, Maddy remembered him leaning over, tucking her mum’s hair behind her ear and saying, ‘One day I’ll buy you a mansion.’ And her mum had held his hand and said, ‘I’m totally happy as I am, Ed. I don’t need a mansion.’ Maddy had thought that the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, without quite understanding that all it showed were two massively diverging dreams for the future.

  When she’d reminded her mum of that moment, one day when she was too young still to realise that they didn’t really talk about her dad any more, her mum had paused, her hand resting on the neatly pressed shirt she was folding on the ironing board and sighed, ‘God, that was probably the exact moment where it all started to go wrong.’

  Maddy couldn’t forget the feeling of not being able to put right something her dad had destroyed in his wake. Him bulldozing through life getting whatever he wanted no matter the cost, her mum the dreamer, the poppy getting crushed in the cornfield.

  Behind her she heard Mack say to Walter, ‘Now they say it, you know, there is a similarity there. In the eyes.’

  The first thing her dad said when they sat down was, ‘Do you need money? If you need money I can give you money.’

  Maddy shook her head. ‘I don’t need money. I have a job.’ she said, pointing back to the bar with a self-deprecating little laugh.

  Her dad sat back, his fingers twirling a beer mat on the table, his black eyes watching her through the same thick dark lashes she’d inherited. ‘What are you doing working here?’ he said, incredulous, a slight smile on his lips, and she felt herself bristle.

  ‘I needed a job.’ she said, eyes narrowed, defensive. Wishing that this wasn’t how he’d seen her the first time. Wishing she’d been doing something more impressive.

  ‘Well why didn’t you come to me?’ He raised his hands wide in a gesture that implied that that would have been the most obvious course of action. Sweeping away years of no contact bar Christmas presents that arrived in the post, picked by his secretary or in a last minute dash to Selfridges. She hadn’t sent him anything.

  Maddy didn’t answer. Felt herself retreating inwards. Any bravado and self-assuredness she had day to day just slithered to the ground now she was sitting here opposite her father, especially when the watchful eye of Veronica was thrown in as well. It was like she was nine again, wanting just to go home. Needing her mum standing between them like a shield, telling her she never had to go back. Fighting for her on the
phone with the door shut so she wasn’t meant to hear. Ignoring Ella’s furious looks.

  ‘I should go back to work.’ Maddy said after a pause, glancing back towards the bar where Mack was now serving and a couple of drunk blokes had jumped up on the bar, shirtless and tinsel clad, to dance with Betty.

  ‘I think they’ll manage without you for a few minutes, Mads. I haven’t seen you for–’ He didn’t have the number of years off the top of his head and she could see him counting.

  ‘I’m going to go back.’ she said, sliding out of the booth.

  ‘Maddy, wait–’ He put his hand on hers. As she felt his palm on the back of her fingers she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Remembering that this was her dad. That he would kiss her goodnight, hug her when it thunder-stormed, check behind the curtains that there were no monsters.

  ‘Edward.’ It was Veronica who put her hand on his sleeve and pulled his arm back. ‘We should go. Leave Maddy to her job.’

  Maddy hated that she was grateful.

  ‘Maybe you could meet in the morning. Take Maddy for breakfast. Take her to The Ivy.’ The corners of Veronica’s mouth curled into what Maddy assumed was a smile. ‘Come on. Let’s leave her to it.’

  Her dad’s lips had pulled into a thin line as he looked from Veronica back to Maddy and then across to the antics at the bar. ‘How are you getting home?’

  ‘On the bus.’ she said, not meeting his eye.

  ‘Oh for god’s sake.’ He shook his head.

  Veronica unclipped her purse and pulled out a fifty, folding it in two and handing it to Maddy. ‘Take a cab. A black one.’

  Maddy didn’t want to take Veronica’s money but her dad looked like he might settle in for the night otherwise and wait to drive her home himself.

  ‘So can I take you for breakfast?’ her dad asked, hopeful, as he unfolded his coat from where he’d had it draped over his arm and started to stand up.

  Maddy nodded.

  ‘I can pick you up,’ he said quickly.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll meet you there. Where was it?’

  ‘The Ivy.’ Veronica said as she curled up the collar of her camel coat and knotted the belt. ‘Leicester Square tube.’

  Maddy nodded, eyes trained on their collars rather than their faces as she backed away with a wave and then turned and headed towards the safety of the bar. She ignored Walter when he leant over and tapped her on the shoulder for the gossip, and refused the hand of one of the men dancing on the bar. The moment was past. She felt hollow, like her insides had been scooped out.

  As she stood there, her feet sloshing in a river of beer and spirits, she realised that no, she wasn’t hollow, she was lopsided. And the half she’d convinced herself that she didn’t need, didn’t want, had just walked out the door.

  She watched the back of her dad’s coat disappear as the door closed behind him with a feeling she hadn’t expected bubbling up within her. She put her hand on her chest. Felt the St Christopher that hung on a long, thin gold chain just above her breast bone. Felt a moment’s guilt when, against her better judgement, breakfast suddenly held as much excitement as the snow.

  CHAPTER 27

  ELLA

  As her mum topped up their wine, Ella turned her head to look at the fire and seeing the flames licking the last of the blackened wood, she pushed her chair back and went to the stack to pick up two great logs. As she chucked them into the grate she watched the fire jump and dance with greedy excitement, then crouched down to prod the ash and wood with the poker as the yellow-eyed cat sauntered in and edged its way towards her. She didn’t touch it, just rocked back onto her heels and let the cat weave its way in front of her. It stretched itself out long, sparks jumping towards its fur as it rolled as far towards the grate as possible, and Ella watched silently, her flip-flop clad toes tickled by soft white fur as the cat inhaled.

  Before the funeral, before her aunt had passed away, before they’d hung up their stockings and laid out the nativity, Maddy had come to visit Ella and their dad for a weekend before they both went to Greece for the run up to Christmas. As they arrived together at Athens airport their mum had sensed something was wrong. Not from Ella, Ella had perfected a look of calm neutrality. But Maddy was all red-nosed and snivelling, refusing to look Ella in the eye when she grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back as they saw their mum waiting at Arrivals and whispered, ‘Just don’t mention it.’

  Maddy had flung herself into their mum’s outstretched arms and said, ‘He’s met someone else. She was there. She’s awful. She’s French and her name’s Veronica.’

  Ella had had to close her eyes for a second. Her mum might not have been able to read her, but Ella could tell every emotion that flickered on her face. She hadn’t wanted to see the eyes that widened just enough, the split-second freeze of her body, the half-smile that showed her teeth, the tightening of her arms around Maddy’s skinny little waist.

  ‘Well that’s ok, honey.’ her mum had said, pushing Maddy back, her hands resting on her shoulders so she could look her in the eye. ‘He’s allowed to move on. We’re all allowed to move on.’

  ‘I hate her.’

  Her mum had smiled and pushed Maddy’s hair back, tucking it behind her ear. ‘She can’t be that bad.’ she’d said softly.

  The cat rolled over so that its tummy was across Ella’s feet. She could feel all its ribs as it breathed. The fire kept her there, mesmerised. The wood cracking from the heat, the flames licking up the chimney breast.

  ‘Does he love her? What’s she like? Is she pretty? Is she prettier than me? No I didn’t say that. I don’t care how pretty she is. Is she awful? How French is she? I bet she’s all chic and je ne sais quoi. Bollocks. Does he love her? It can’t have been going on very long. He can’t love her. Does he love her?’

  They were standing in the big bedroom over the taverna where Ella was sleeping now. When her mum first moved in she’d had it as her own room but then decided that she liked the view from the smaller back bedroom better and decamped. Ella had been sitting on the bed, waiting while her mum put Maddy to bed. She knew she would have more to say than: We’re all allowed to move on.

  ‘Shit.’ Her mum had turned away and gone to lean against the windowsill. ‘Shit, I’m sorry Ella. Don’t answer any of this. You don’t have to answer. I don’t want to know.’ For a moment she’d looked out at the view in silence, and Ella had watched her shoulders rising and falling, wondering if she was crying and not really knowing what to do.

  Ella had really liked Veronica when her dad had introduced them. She’d liked how she’d held her hand out to shake, liked how she’d stood back when their dad had walked with them, asking Maddy questions about Greece and the taverna, liked how she’d ordered a Perrier with no ice, liked how she’d listened when Ella had told them about the English essay she was working on. She’d felt herself bristle when Maddy had played up, refusing to look Veronica in the eye, refusing to even acknowledge her.

  ‘I really like her, Ella.’ her dad had said that evening when Veronica had gone out on the balcony to have a cigarette and Maddy was in bed.

  ‘You do? That’s good.’

  He’d nodded. ‘I loved your mother, I really did. But this–’ He’d bitten down on his lip and shaken his head. ‘This is something I didn’t know was possible.’ He’d glanced across to where Ella was standing next to him, both of them in front of the big sliding glass doors of his apartment. Outside Battersea Bridge sparkled with white lights, the reflection wobbling in the choppy water of the Thames. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you all this. I’m sorry. It’s unfair.’

  ‘No it’s ok, I like her.’ But it was unfair. She’d been torn between liking being trusted with the information and wanting to put her hands over her ears and la la la. The only benefit was that it all seemed very Neighbours and her friends at school would devour it.

  ‘You do? So do I. I really like her. I just–’ He ran his hand through his hair.

  To E
lla he was almost like a stranger, she’d never seen him this excited, this happy, this relaxed.

  ‘I really love her. And it means so much to me that you like her, El.’ He’d winked at her and the shared confidence had made Ella feel all grown-up. She’d taken a sip of the cup of tea she was holding and beamed back at him but he was already looking away, back to the sliding doors were Veronica was stepping inside from the balcony, the faint smell of cigarettes entwining with Chanel No 5.

  ‘Ok. Just tell me.’ Her mum had twisted round where she stood at the window, looking back to where Ella sat on the bed. ‘Just tell me. Does he love her?’ She’d closed her eyes, put her hands over her face. ‘Oh god, he’s so annoying. Why can he still do this to me?’ Her voice was muffled, her mouth covered by her palms, then she’d moved her fingers to push back her hair and said again, ‘Does he love her? Do you think he loves her?’

  Ella had looked across at her, seen the desperate need in her eyes and testing out the first of her soap-opera-style answers had stood up, walked to stand next to her and said, ‘No. He said he doesn’t. You know he actually said he really misses you–’ And before she knew it she’d spun a whole new reality, one that seemed to make everything better.

  CHAPTER 28

  MADDY

  Her father had left instructions with the doorman to show Maddy up to the Piano Bar which was part of the private members’ club of The Ivy. She was ushered further up the road from the main door to a flower shop where a discreet entrance, opened by another doorman, led her to the club rooms above the restaurant. Maddy hadn’t been able to sleep the night before and, after being up for hours, decided to make use of the spare time by hiring a Boris Bike and cycling from Pimlico along the river, up The Strand and into Covent Garden where she’d got hopelessly lost and had to ask a Big Issue seller directions to The Ivy in exchange for buying one of his magazines and a coffee from Pret which he said he didn’t need but it was so cold Maddy ignored him.