‘Don’t worry about her,’ Rose’s companion said, handing over her own dress of choice. ‘She looked much better in the pink, anyway. And I love this shop. It’s a cornucopia of delights.’
Frankie laughed in relief as she packed the hour-glass peach satin cocktail frock. ‘Thank you. I might have that as my slogan in future.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Bev muttered in Frankie’s ear. ‘It sounds like a box of chocs.’
Frankie frowned. Bev was again perched on the counter, still in the snood, but with strands of tinsel wrapped round it now, and had red and gold baubles dangling from her ears making her look very Bet Lynch.
Frankie made frantic flapping ‘go away’ motions with her hands. Bev just laughed and swung her legs. Fortunately, the customer, unable to see her, took no notice at all.
‘Yes –’ Rose, also clearly not seeing either Ernie or Bev, emerged from the fitting room carrying a magenta frock, and nodded at Frankie ‘– it’ll do nicely. Mind, I still preferred the cream, but then again, this one for free is a much better bargain. OK, love, your mistake has turned into a nice little early Christmas present for me. I’m happy, and yes, I will be back again.’
Frankie and Ernie exchanged delighted – and very thankful – glances.
By two o’clock, Frankie turned the shop sign to CLOSED. She’d returned Achsah’s wedding dress to the rails because Ernie preferred it to be there, had sold another half a dozen dresses, the sky had darkened dramatically outside as the wind began to roar, and the ghosts had started their Christmas celebrations.
‘What the hell are they doing?’ Dexter tried hard to shut the door behind him. ‘God, that wind has got up suddenly. No, seriously, what are they doing?’
‘Having a Christmas party.’ Frankie laughed. ‘Although I did ask them not to start until I left, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.’
Dexter watched Bev and Jared cavorting round the floor, humming along with Jonah Lewie and his cavalry on the sound system, obviously not knowing the words, their headgear wobbling wildly, and Gertie and Ruby playing some sort of noisy clapping game with each other.
Ernie was leaning against the 1950s rails by Achsah’s returned frock, looking on, sad-faced.
‘Ernie can’t do as much as they can,’ Frankie explained. ‘And he’s feeling even more left out.’
‘Poor bloke.’ Dexter sighed. ‘We really will have to find some way of sorting him out as soon as Christmas is out of the way. So, are you all ready for the grand escape to your family?’
‘Yep.’ Frankie nodded as she tidied away the last of the carrier bags. ‘Lilly left for Protaras yesterday, I’ve loaded up my car and locked up the house and closed the shop, because I don’t think I’ll have any more customers now. Especially as it looks as though we’re going to have some sort of storm. What about you? Been busy today?’
‘Surprisingly, yes.’ Dexter leaned against the counter. ‘I bought a batch of forced flowers – red tulips mainly – which I don’t like because they’re not natural –’
Frankie giggled. ‘Now you sound like a real horticulturalist.’
‘Actually –’ he looked at her ‘– I’m beginning to feel like one. Anyway, these flowers had the edges of their petals dipped in some sort of glue and then sprinkled with glitter. I bought five dozen on the off chance, and they’ve all sold out. And I’ve sold two last-minute Christmas trees as well. So, I’m more or less done, too. I’m closing up now.’
The Christmas track had changed to George Michael being nostalgic about last Christmas. Bev, Jared, Ruby and Gertie were swaying blissfully with their eyes closed.
‘Oh God, last Christmas –’ Dexter pulled a face ‘– don’t remind me.’
‘Bad one?’
‘The worst.’ He shrugged. ‘Which means this one can only be an improvement. Anyway, I just wanted to wish you, well, whatever you want from the festivities.’
‘Thanks, you too. Oh, have you had the Ray-and-Rita card from Mykonos?’
Dexter grinned. ‘I have. All bright blue Mediterranean sea and sky, and acres of white sand, not to mention the taverna all flower-decked and laid-back – pretty cruel of them, I reckon.’
‘Me too. And did you get the industrial-sized box of baklava to go with it?’
‘Oh, yes. I ate them all in one sitting and wished I hadn’t.’
Frankie giggled. ‘I managed to make them last for two, but I still felt pretty sick afterwards. I’m glad Ray and Rita are happy, though. It must be lovely to be living your dream.’
‘Not many people manage that, do they?’
‘Sadly, no. Er, so, when are you opening up again?’
‘The day after Boxing Day. You?’
Doing mental cartwheels of absolute joy, Frankie tried to rein in her smile. ‘Oh, er, the same, actually. I know Rita used to be really busy in the run up to the New Year.’
‘I’m not sure if I’ll have any customers, to be honest. But anything will be better than sitting in the lonely bedsit between Christmas and New Year thinking about everyone else having a roaring time. Oh, hell, please change that record.’
Frankie, feeling very guilty about being delighted that Dexter would be home alone after all, was relieved when George’s sad memories were automatically replaced by Paul McCartney having a wonderful Christmastime.
Bev and Jared started prancing again. Ruby and Gertie clapped their hands and shrieked a lot.
‘Madness.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘And poor Ernie is still just on the periphery of everything.’
‘So our New Year resolution is to get Ernie and Achsah reunited.’ Dexter grinned. ‘Which will make a change from giving up unhealthy food and beer and taking up jogging. Anyway, I’ll let you get on, and I’ll see you in a few days. Oh, and I wanted to give you this.’
Frankie stared down at the small silver-wrapped box.
‘Oh no … I mean, thank you … but I haven’t bought you a present. I mean … well, I didn’t think … ’
‘It’s not much, honestly. I just saw them and thought of you. If you hate them you can give them to your kid sister or your mum.’
‘I won’t hate it, er, them,’ Frankie said, knowing that even if the silver box contained something totally hideous she’d absolutely adore it or them for the rest of her life. ‘Thank you so much. It’s really kind of you.’
‘And, because I’m something of a traditionalist, there’s this as well.’ Dexter smiled at her as he produced a tiny sprig of mistletoe from his pocket then held it above her head. ‘Happy Christmas, Frankie.’
As his lips brushed hers in the gentlest of kisses, the ghosts all clapped their hands in delight, and outside the first snowflakes started to tumble from the pewter sky.
Chapter Twenty-four
It was still dark when Cherish woke on Christmas morning, but there was something about the air of stillness and the strange pale shadows across her bedroom ceiling that made her blink in excitement.
The snow, which had started falling yesterday afternoon and carried on intermittently all evening, must have settled.
It was going to be a white Christmas.
And, Cherish thought delightedly, sitting up in bed and pulling her covers more closely round her, she had a Christmas stocking at the foot of the bed to open. Obviously, because she’d put it there herself the previous night, this wasn’t any huge surprise, but the contents would be. Oh, what a lovely idea this had been.
She and Brian had exchanged their stockings solemnly yesterday afternoon over a pot of tea and hot mince pies in Patsy’s Pantry just as the snow had started to fall. And they’d promised faithfully not to peek at their contents until Christmas morning.
Brian, Cherish thought, had seemed even more excited than she was – if that were possible.
She peered at her alarm clock. Seven already. Not too early for a cup of tea. Then she’d bring it back to bed, and open her stocking. After pulling on her camel dressing gown and sliding her feet into her sensible slippers, she couldn�
�t resist squeezing the stocking just to hear the blissful rattle and rustle of the paper inside.
She giggled to herself, suddenly filled with childlike joy, then crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains.
‘Oh, how wonderful.’
The snow had stopped falling overnight and was probably two inches deep, covering everywhere in a glittering pristine white mantle. It was bone-chillingly cold, with a hard frost, so the snow had frozen like icing sugar. Perfect, Cherish thought. Just enough snow to make it a proper white Christmas, but not enough to stop her going to Brian’s bungalow later, or returning to work after Boxing Day.
She couldn’t have asked for anything more.
Cherish practically skipped into the kitchen, quickly made her tea and hurried back to bed.
The stocking, red felt with a jolly Santa appliquéd on the front, was quite small, but fat with tiny presents.
Cherish placed her teacup on her bedside table, switched on the lamp, pulled the stocking towards her and opened the first present with much crackling of reindeer wrapping.
‘Oh!’ Cherish felt the tears prickle her eyes. ‘Oh, Brian, how clever you are.’
The first present was a pack of lavender fragranced drawer sachets. She loved lavender. She’d told Brian this once. He must have remembered.
The second present was equally wonderful: a set of lace-trimmed hankies. Cherish had told Brian she hated the trend for tissues, even if they were more hygienic. She loved her delicate hankies and laundered them all carefully on a Monday morning.
Brian, Cherish thought, as the bed became covered in discarded wrapping paper, must have listened to everything she’d ever said to him.
There was a tiny purse, because she liked to keep her change separate from her notes, and some pretty stretch gloves in a Fair Isle pattern, and a small old-fashioned manicure set with orange sticks for the cuticles, and a little box of sugared almonds, and a wipe-clean cover for her television and radio listings magazine.
Cherish, almost crying with happiness, slid her hand into the toe of the stocking for the last present. As she unwrapped it, she laughed out loud.
It was a very tiny, soft, plush pale-blue teddy bear with a sash across its little chest that read ‘Friends Forever’.
‘Oh, Brian,’ Cherish murmured as she sat the teddy bear on her bedside cabinet. ‘Oh, thank you so much. This is my best Christmas since … well, I can’t remember when.’
She wondered if he’d opened his stocking yet, and if he’d be as pleased as she was. She really, really hoped so.
Cherish looked at her presents again in total delight. Then, being Cherish, she put them tidily to one side, and neatly folded all the wrapping paper before settling back on her pillows and sipping her tea, staring out at the winter wonderland outside.
Happy, happy Christmas.
*
Brian arrived at twelve on the dot as they’d arranged. Cherish was waiting for him in the hall, wearing her best fawn coat and her best brown beret, her handbag on her arm, her presents for him in a carrier bag. She’d opened Frankie’s present while she’d had her breakfast to carols on the radio, because, knowing that Brian wouldn’t have presents from anyone else, she didn’t want him to feel awkward.
It was perfect, Cherish had thought, running her fingers over the diary and notebook and clicking the lovely pen open and shut. How clever of Frankie to give her something so wonderful and so useful. It was exactly what she would have chosen for herself. She really hoped Frankie would enjoy her bath cubes, too.
‘Happy Christmas, gel,’ Brian said gruffly, stepping into the hall. ‘And thank you more’n I can say for my stocking.’
‘And thank you for mine, too.’ Cherish beamed. ‘I loved it all. I couldn’t believe it. Everything was just perfect. You must have remembered everything I’ve ever told you.’
‘Ah, maybe I have.’ Brian nodded, his wild hair even wilder, his big blues eyes filled with tears. ‘But you, Cherish, gel. You couldn’t have given me anything nicer.’
‘You weren’t offended?’
Brian shook his head. ‘Offended? How could I be? It was the Christmas stocking I should have had when I was a lad and never did. I’m not ashamed to say I bawled me eyes out. You are wonderful, Cherish. The best.’
Cherish exhaled, blushing. She’d bought all Brian’s stocking fillers in Winterbrook’s main toyshop and carefully wrapped the colouring book and coloured pencils and stick-on transfers and some small cars and a jigsaw puzzle of 1950s steam trains, and then she’d spent the remainder of her stocking filler money on a festive selection box, a chocolate Santa and some chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil in a small net bag.
‘I’m so pleased you liked it all.’
‘Liked it –’ Brian was still damp-eyed ‘– I loved it, gel. I can’t wait to get stuck into the jigsaw later. This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. And the snow … well, that just takes the biscuit, doesn’t it? Are you ready to go, then, gel? I’ve left me turkey in the oven and the veg is all prepared and the spuds should go in soon, so we ought to get a move on. Your carriage awaits.’
Stepping carefully across the glittering ground, loving the creaking scrunch of the hard-frozen snow beneath her feet, Cherish made her way to the kebab van. Brian opened the door for her, and she clambered up inside.
‘All in? Right, gel, off we go!’
Brian’s bungalow was simply wonderful, Cherish thought, as she left her brogues by the front door. Although it was much the same size as hers, it seemed so much warmer and cosier. And it looked like Aladdin’s cave. Brian had garlands and baubles everywhere, in every colour of the rainbow and then some. A Christmas tree sparkled with multicoloured lights in one corner of the living room, with three presents underneath it, and a coal fire blazed in the hearth.
And, from the kitchen, wafted the delicious scents of roasting turkey and stuffing and … yes, surely that was the unmistakable smell of a proper Christmas pudding steaming?
Cherish clapped her hands happily. She hadn’t smelled anything like it since she’d been a child.
Brian took her coat and beret and handed her a glass of sherry.
‘Cheers, gel.’ He clinked his sherry glass against hers. ‘Happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas.’ Cherish sipped her sherry. ‘And this is such a lovely room. What gorgeous fat furniture – so deep and comfortable – and all those plushy cushions.’
‘Ah, Rita did me proud when she left me this place. She knew how to make a homely home, did Rita.’
Cherish still gazed round in wonderment. ‘And a real fire – how marvellous.’
‘Real gas.’ Brian chuckled. ‘Looks the part though, don’t it?’
‘It does,’ Cherish marvelled. ‘I’d never have guessed. It looks exactly like the real thing. And it throws out so much heat. It makes a nice change from my two-bar electric.’
‘Right, you sit yourself down,’ Brian said, indicating the pair of huge armchairs on either side of the fireplace, ‘by the fire here and get warm. I’ll go and see to the dinner.’
‘Please let me help you.’
‘Won’t hear of it.’ Brian chuckled. ‘I’m having the time of my life out there, gel. I’ve never cooked for anyone else before.’
And after putting Dean Martin crooning Christmas ballads on the stereo, Brian bustled out of the room.
Cherish sank into one of the deep cushiony chairs and wriggled her stockinged toes in front of the fire as she sipped her sherry. How simply fabulous this was. A proper Christmas …
They had dinner just before two o’clock. Brian had set the small dining table with red paper napkins, several red candles and a glass vase filled with sprigs of holly. He’d even opened a bottle of sparkling wine.
Cherish stared at her plate – piled high with turkey and all the trimmings – and gasped. ‘I can’t eat all this! Oh, two sorts of stuffing … and bread sauce! And chipolatas! And so many vegetables.’ She gazed at Brian across the table. ‘You�
�re a dark horse, Brian. I had no idea you could cook like this.’
‘Neither did I, gel.’ Brian laughed. ‘It’s all been a bit trial and error, but I seem to have got the hang of it pretty quickly. I hope it’s all right for you.’
‘Brian, it’s just wonderful.’ Cherish tried to remember her manners and not appear greedy, but it was difficult. The food was so delicious. ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’
‘Just seeing you happy is thanks enough for me,’ Brian said gruffly, concentrating on his food. ‘Seemed so silly, both of us being alone today of all days.’
Alone, Cherish thought. All those lonely Christmases … But not any more.
‘Now you must let me do the washing up afterwards. I insist.’
‘No need,’ Brian said cheerfully. ‘Rita had a dishwasher. I’ve loaded it and it’s whirring away nicely. All mod cons, see?’
‘Luxury,’ Cherish said faintly. ‘Total luxury. You’re very lucky, Brian.’
‘I know. Don’t think I don’t thank my lucky stars every day. And I thought,’ Brian said as he poured them more wine, ‘that we should be finished eating just in time to go through to the living room for the Queen’s speech, and then we could open our presents in front of the fire. Do you think that would be OK?’
‘Perfect.’ Cherish nodded. ‘Absolutely perfect. Like everything else today.’
By three thirty, hardly able to move, Cherish flopped happily in the fireside chair. It had been, without doubt, the most fantastic Christmas dinner she’d ever eaten. Now, she thought, with the standard lamps glowing, the Christmas tree lights twinkling, and the dark December afternoon closing in on the white world outside, it was like a dream come true.
‘Right –’ Brian looked like an overgrown schoolboy, his hair tousled and his eyes shining ‘– shall we do the presents now? Then we can settle down and watch the film before we think about tea.’
‘Tea?’ Cherish squeaked. ‘I’ll never be able to eat tea!’
‘Course you will, gel. Just need to let your dinner go down first. Anyway –’ he blushed as he knelt down near the tree ‘– these are for you.’
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