by Rosie Blake
‘How about you?’ Greg asked, one hand stroking Marmite’s body. Eve couldn’t stop looking at his knuckles.
‘Me?’
‘Work stories, what do you do?’
‘Oh,’ Eve said, dragging herself back, surprised by this old familiar feeling, she hadn’t felt it in years, ‘I’m an estate agent, but I’m not allowed to tell you any stories about my job because you will explode with laughter, they are so funny.’
‘Really?’
‘No, really not. The funniest thing that happened in our office recently was that someone put the staplers in upside down so the stapler wouldn’t work.’
‘I can see how that might be amusing.’
‘So, shall we go?’ Eve stood up, placing her mug in the small sink, the movement causing Marmite to scramble up and look at her expectantly.
‘Oh dear, he definitely thinks he’s invited,’ Greg said, grinning at her.
Eve sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, but you have to behave.’ She dropped to her knees. ‘No embarrassing me in public.’
Marmite walked over and licked her nose.
‘That definitely means it’s a deal,’ Greg said, shrugging his coat back on and holding out the lead. ‘What?’ He laughed. ‘Trust me, I’m a vet.’
She clicked the lead into place and stood. ‘Woe betide you if he eats all the sausage.’
Marmite yapped once.
‘Sausage?’ Greg said, and for a second Eve felt her whole body flush.
‘There’s always sausage at a Christmas market, German thing,’ she mumbled, busying herself with putting on her gloves.
They stepped out onto the common, the day already darkening, a couple of stars out. The wind was whipping around them, flattening the long grass and lifting their hair. The sky was a deep blue, ribbons of blacks and greys cutting across it, the river moving past making its silent progress. They walked across the common in companionable silence, Marmite racing round their legs, growling at a dandelion clock and randomly sniffing the ground as if picking up the scent of Christmas-market sausage.
In the distance they could hear the sounds of laughter, children’s shouts and the noise of sellers. As they approached, they could make out the stalls lining one side of the common, emitting steam, their windows lit up yellow and inviting, children queuing for cookies warm from the oven, candy floss on sticks, bags of doughnuts covered in sugar, the doughy scent making Eve’s stomach grumble. In the centre was an enormous Ferris wheel, with a couple of other rides, all lit up with flashing bulbs, tinny music clashing and competing. A siren went off, a shout, some jeers from a group of boys nearby as one of them walked away with an enormous giant stuffed panda, his cheeks flaming.
Greg raised an eyebrow. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to win you one of those,’ he said.
‘Why do you think I invited you?’
They bought a bag of peppermint creams to share, the sweet, mint smell making her nose wrinkle. They melted in her mouth, ‘Amazshing,’ she said through a mouthful. She swallowed, giggling at him. ‘Um… you’ve got icing sugar on your nose.’
Greg reached up and rubbed at it. ‘’Course I have.’
They were interrupted by Marmite, who decided to make a run for it, strangling himself on the lead as he came up short, barking and yapping like a mad thing so that people turned to stare.
‘Marmite!’ Eve hissed.
His barking was joined by a lower, longer bark and Eve looked up to see Sandy straining on his own lead, Minnie wrapped in a charcoal shawl, purple leggings underneath, waving at her frantically, ‘Eve, darling, Eveeeee.’
Eve gave her a wave back and watched as Marmite and Sandy jumped and frolicked, clearly delighted to see each other.
‘Darling, isn’t it wonderful, I just love this market…’ She stopped with one hand to her mouth as she took in Greg standing next to Eve. ‘Oh, hello, I doooooo apologise,’ she said. ‘I’m interrupting,’ she continued in a way that made it sound as if Eve and Greg were busy doing something disgusting rather than eating peppermint creams.
‘Oh, not at all. Minnie, this is Greg, Greg, Minnie,’ Eve said, motioning between them and wanting to add ‘we were just eating mints, it was nothing’, but felt that would be strange.
Minnie stepped forward to kiss him on both cheeks as if she were at Ascot races. ‘Greg, I know Greg, darling, he’s the heavenly local vet.’
‘The heav… oh!’ Eve nudged him in the arm. Greg seemed pinker beneath the thin layer of stubble.
‘How’s Sandy?’ he asked, bending down to pat the golden retriever on the head.
‘Oh, how gorgeous you remembered. He’s fine, long in the tooth obviously, but fine. Actually, I was going to come in and see you last week because he was doing these very strange poos, but turns out he’d been at Gerald’s Braeburns.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Greg laughed, his face splitting into an easy smile, one of his front teeth slightly crossing the other. Eve felt a bubble of warmth rise up through her at the sound.
‘And how is…’
‘Oh look, isn’t that amazing,’ Greg said, pointing quickly towards the trees where the sun was now streaked with lilacs and pinks. Eve was surprised; she hadn’t pegged Greg as a sunset man. Minnie had spun round to look, both hands flying up to rest over her heart. ‘Just glorious,’ she said, her face glowing orange from the last of the sun.
‘So, Eve and I were just about to head off actually, to the Ferris wheel…’ Greg said, his mouth in a thin line.
‘Were we…? We were, sorry, we were,’ Eve confirmed, noticing Greg’s expression, her thoughts whirling a little.
‘Well, I best get on too; I want to head back. Gerald is out tonight with the darts team so I have a whole evening to myself. Baileys and Jackie Collins. Bliss.’
‘Sounds ideal.’ Eve laughed.
Minnie turned to go, waving an arm behind her as she left them, weaving her way through the crowds, Sandy looking wistfully behind as he left.
‘So the Ferris wheel?’ Eve asked, turning to Greg and putting her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised in a question.
‘Definitely.’ Greg grinned and offered her his arm. She went to link hers through his, wondering why she felt as if she should be wary. What was it about the moment Greg had said it, as if he was trying to distract her? What had Minnie been about to ask? As they stepped over in the direction of the Ferris wheel, with the sight of the gently rocking carriages, the bold colours, the lights, she found herself growing excited and the questions were already fading.
The market noises faded as they returned to the boat on the common. The tinny music tripped on the wind as they left the magic behind them. Eve had loved the market; as the day had darkened and they had moved around the stalls, the light falling in pools on the grass in front of them, people smiling and nodding, she had really felt part of the village. Large lanterns were stuck in the grass to guide people back into the centre and the meaty scent of roast-turkey baps and stuffing made her think of her mum’s Christmas lunch.
She was quiet as she made her way back to the boat, Greg walking beside her, a small stuffed panda under one arm. Marmite drooped on the end of his lead, over-excited by the sights and smells of the market. The turkey-bap man had given him a sausage.
They got to the boat and moved inside, Eve not wanting the day to end, suddenly bereft that he would leave.
‘That was fun,’ she said in a hearty, Head Girl voice.
Greg smiled and sat down, still in his duffel coat as if he would make his exit at any moment. She didn’t want to beg him to stay, felt she had taken up enough of his day. She sat opposite him, casting around her for some inspiration.
‘Do you know what I really feel like?’
Eve leant forward, feeling herself growing pink. ‘What is that?’ she asked in a husky voice. Gosh, where was that voice coming from? That wasn’t the voice of a heartbroken woman who was hurting from her fiancé. ‘What is that?’ she repeated in a newer, louder voice
that made him frown a fraction.
‘Mulled wine. I’ve had a craving for it since I saw the Crosskeys put a board outside the pub.’
‘So shall we go there?’ Eve asked.
‘It’s the pub quiz tonight, you can never get a seat. But…’ he paused. ‘We could make it here?’ he said. ‘It’s not difficult.’
‘I don’t know how, and I don’t have any ingredients,’ Eve said, knowing mulled wine probably wasn’t made from tea and dried pasta.
‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a list of what we need and get things ready here.’ He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. ‘My treat,’ he said, handing her a twenty-pound note before she had time to take things in.
‘Well, that’s kind,’ Eve said, confused now as she clutched the twenty-pound note. ‘Don’t you want to come?’
‘No, I can sort things here so we’re ready to go when you get back.’ He was writing a list on the counter, pen tapping his mouth before his eyes lit up and he was done, thrusting the list at her like it was homework he wanted marking.
‘Okay, if you’re sure,’ she said, holding the list and the twenty-pound note. ‘I’ll just get my scarf, it’s colder now,’ she added, taking a step forward to squeeze past him and doing a sort of half-dance as they side-stepped each other. Her eyes met the top of his jumper and she focused there, suddenly afraid to look up.
‘Brilliant,’ he said, his laugh a little strange, faster and higher than normal.
She shrugged on her coat and wondered whether she should go. It felt odd leaving him in the boat on his own. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him but something felt wrong. Did he not want to be seen with her?
When she moved back through to the kitchen, though, he was washing up at the sink and as she went to say something, he gave her a slow smile and she found herself saying, ‘I won’t be long.’
She stepped off the boat and walked away, still feeling thrown by this last development. She clutched the list in her hand. Had she made a mistake about him? Should she be more suspicious? She didn’t know him very well yet and couldn’t necessarily rely on the fact that she thought he had a trustworthy face, a lovely laugh. Look where that had got her with Liam. Something was going on. Then perhaps she was just being silly. Maybe mulled wine required quite complicated preparations and when she returned he would have transformed the kitchen into an elaborate staging area.
*
When she got back, he had cleaned up, put a saucepan on the hob and had the chopping board and a knife out on the side. He had wiped down the table in her absence and took the bag from her peering into it with false enthusiasm, a muscle going in his neck.
She felt heat on her legs and turned. ‘You lit the stove.’
Greg’s eyes widened, the muscle still pulsing. ‘I hope that was okay?’
‘Of course, I love it,’ Eve said, listening to the pop and fizz of the logs inside, the smell filling the boat, warming her up immediately. It was fantastic, pumping heat into the space, crackling and spitting as the flames flickered behind the door. She moved over to the counter as Greg started to lay out what she had brought: spices, fruit and red wine.
She took a breath, ready to ask him whether he was all right. She had psyched herself up to probe on the way back over the common, but as he lined things up on the counter, his face relaxed, he looked like the easy Greg, the one who smiled readily, who absent-mindedly scooped up Marmite to ruffle his hair, the one who lit up when he cooked.
She let him walk her through the recipe as he instructed her to keep stirring at a steady pace. He poured in red wine, brandy, sliced up oranges, opened up the container of cherries and popped one into her mouth automatically.
‘You won’t look back once you’ve tried this,’ he said. ‘It’s a real winter-warmer, perfect.’
He ladled it into two wine glasses and handed her one, raising his glass at her before he drank.
‘This is incredible,’ she sighed after the first taste, leaning back against the counter.
‘Told you.’
Eve moved through to the living room, curling herself up onto the bench and watching him sit on the stool, Marmite quick to nestle at his feet. The room smelt of bonfires and cinnamon and Eve felt herself feeling festive for the first time. In this space, with the orange glow from the woodburner and the tartan blanket she had flung over her legs, the mulled wine warming her from the inside.
‘We just need an old movie,’ she said, nodding ruefully at the television, the stubborn blank screen staring back.
‘Do you want me to try and fix it for you?’ Greg asked, getting up and putting his wine on the counter before she could protest.
He started looking behind the television, his head resting on the wall to peer at the back of it. Reaching behind it, he fiddled with some wires as Eve called, ‘I’ve tried that, I really think it’s broken.’
Not saying anything, he followed the lead down to the wall, clicked the switch to On, picked up the remote and grinned at her as it sparked into life.
Eve rolled her eyes. ‘I’m an idiot.’
‘Or I spend too much time watching television,’ Greg said, handing her the remote and settling back in the chair.
She scrolled through the channels, half-wishing he hadn’t got it working. The jarring voices filled the boat and drowned out the gentle sound of the logs and their quiet chatter. They watched partway through a film, Greg topping them up with mulled wine, the portholes turning from dark blue to black. It was easy, familiar and, for a panicked second, she wondered what she was up to. Greg was stroking the top of Marmite’s head and when he drained the last of his wine glass, he suddenly rose from the stool, his head almost bumping the top of the boat.
‘I’d better get home,’ he said, perhaps as thrown by the domestic scene as she was. He looked about for his coat as she stood up, feeling her legs wobble from the rocking of the water, and the brandy.
‘Thank you for the recipe,’ she said, feeling strangely shy, her mouth all tongue as he leant across to place his empty glass on the counter.
‘My pleasure, work tomorrow, probably shouldn’t do surgery after too many of these.’ It was the second Greg, the one with the tense look in his eye.
She went to ask, to see if everything was okay, and then bit down the question. He’s fine, Eve, he just wants to go home. Some people have actual real lives to live rather than pottery classes and lie-ins.
She followed him out to the door, a strange moment, a half-hug, an ‘Okay then,’ as he left. She watched him step onto the bank, cross the grass, hands in his coat pockets, head down. Leaning against the wall, she felt her body relax. The mulled wine seemed to have flushed her cheeks, warmed her toes and fingers, reached into every part of her and heated her up. She watched him until he left the common, turning down the high street, wondering where he was headed and whether he was still sad.
He knew he’d been acting strangely, could see it as he wrote out the list in a hasty scrawl, Eve’s uncertain lingering as she wondered whether she should leave him there on her boat. Seeing Minnie had reminded him again; he spent the day with clients from the village and those who knew her often asked, so he was on guard. When he was out in the village, though, focusing on the shopping or getting a quick pint, the enquiries floored him for a second and he didn’t want to answer. It got to the point where he couldn’t face going to his usual haunts because of the questions.
What had he been thinking? Turfing her out of her own boat and sending her into the village like his skivvy? The moment she’d walked off he’d wanted to run after her, walk to the shop, be normal. Instead he pulled things out of the cupboard, cleaned and wiped the surfaces, lit the stove, fooled himself into thinking he was just preparing for her return when, in fact, he was just being a coward.
He was relieved when she had come back, glad to find the stove on and the kitchen wiped down, watching closely as he got all the ingredients prepared. She seemed genuinely interested, writing down
the recipe so she could make it again. And he’d loved watching her face as she’d taken that first sip, the brandy hitting them both at the same moment so they gave each other sleepy smiles. It suddenly felt like Christmas then and, for a second, he was looking forward to it. Then the thoughts came crashing in and when they started watching that film his mind wandered like it often did now. He didn’t want to share it with her and, anyway, talking about it wouldn’t help.
He’d had the most surprising afternoon, though, wanted to be walking round a Christmas market with her every day, exclaiming over the stalls, watching her face flood with embarrassment every time Marmite ignored her. She had sat on the Ferris wheel, as it rocked gently at the top, the black ribbon of river winding out of sight, the bridge in the distance peppered with lights, and pointed out the boat, one porthole lit up. He had a sudden urge to take her face in his hands and kiss it. She looked so adorable in her hat, hair sticking out under it, her coat buttoned right up to her chin, her nose and cheeks pink with cold, her green eyes sparkling and shifting in the lights from the Ferris wheel. Then the mechanics had kicked in and they were falling past the treeline, down towards the ground, and that moment had remained up there, with the shadows of themselves.
As he reached to turn off his bedside lamp, he felt the urge to open his curtains and look out across the village in the direction of the river. He couldn’t see anything and a light drizzle had started up, smattering the window, making it impossible to make out even the houses opposite, but he felt better doing it. Getting his e-reader out, he started to read, losing himself in another world.
Danny was standing next to the table with the teapots and mugs, talking to Raj. She noticed the backs of his hands were smeared with black and wondered whether he was a painter. She reached across for the cafetière, sun bursting through the conservatory windows, making the glass sparkle.
‘Morning,’ she said as she poured.
Raj gave her a devastating white smile, a Colgate advert, and Danny swiped at his blond fringe. ‘Hey.’