The afternoon was slow, but that was what I needed after the week I’d had. Bazza let me head home early as the pub was strangely quiet for a Saturday in December, so I was back by seven and immediately started rummaging in the loft for all my lights and decorations. When I emerged from the attic I could hear noises downstairs. I found Enid in the sitting room, flicking through my CDs.
‘Found it!’ she said, waving a Christmas compilation CD at me. She put it into my ancient CD player (I usually use my phone for music these days, but Enid’s still living in the dark ages) and immediately skipped forward until Mike Oldfield’s ‘In Dulci Jubilo’ came on.
I dropped all the decorations on the sofa and we grabbed hands and started whirling around the room. For some reason the song has always got us jigging around; it brings out Enid’s light-hearted side. I was so thrilled to see her in such high spirits that I decided to ignore the feeling of dread resulting from the knowledge that, at some point, unless I can get hold of Fred and convince him I made a mistake, her jubilation will be short-lived.
‘Oh, Bess!’ Enid said when we’d collapsed on to my sofa. ‘I love how you love Christmas. I can’t ever muster the enthusiasm myself but it’s just so you to embrace it like you do every year, even though – I know – there aren’t any carol singers nowadays! Honestly, Bess, you’re so funny about that.’ Enid paused, thoughtful. ‘I mean, it’s not as if every Christmas is wonderful, either. Mum and Dad died a week before Christmas, for heaven’s sake! You should loathe it! And then, in recent years, there’s been Nigel.’
I froze slightly at this. Admittedly Nigel has done his best to ruin the last few Christmases, one way or another, but I try not to think about it. Yet there’s no denying I’m nervous about his involvement again this year.
‘Bess, last year the berk got completely plastered in the pub after church and then invited those ghastly people back for lunch without even asking you! They were hideous! It was one of the reasons I was so pleased to be going to Australia this year, if I’m honest. The prospect of escaping Nigel.’
It hurt to hear Enid’s brutal honesty, but she’s right. Nigel’s the antithesis of Christmas. We’re the yin and yang of the festive season. If I’m completely frank with myself, I’m not sure even I can bear the thought of Christmas with Nigel this year. I sighed. Yet another problem to add into the mix – along with Fred and the school play. I must have looked glum, as Enid rubbed my arm and passed me my wine glass. We started popping decorations on to the tree in the corner of the room, warmed by the roaring fire.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve dampened your Christmas spirit.’
‘No,’ I told her. ‘Just making me see the truth, like you always do. Enid, I think it’s time I split up with Nigel. I’ve only been staying with him in the hope we’ll have a baby, but I know in my heart he’s never going to commit to that. Anyway, I’m not that sure about passing on his genes.’
Enid grinned from ear to ear. ‘I’m sorry,’ she laughed. ‘I can’t help it. I can’t pretend . . . Bess, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time!’
Chapter Twenty-nine
Sunday 17 December 2017
Fred
On Saturday night Fred went to bed and, despite his usual stoicism, he cried himself to sleep. The last time he’d done that he’d been seven years old and his cricket bat had been stolen by the big boys at junior school. He felt oddly like he was grieving.
The following day he found himself calling Terri-Lee.
‘I’m coming round,’ she said when he explained what had happened.
When he saw her at the door, looking all dishevelled and sympathetic, he realised that she truly cared about him. The fact she’d just dropped everything and turned up looking pretty scruffy showed that he really meant something to her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know I’ve been a bit negative about her, but I don’t want you to go through this. There’s nothing worse than unrequited love. And I should know,’ she said softly, shrugging.
Her words tugged at his heart. ‘Come here,’ he said, and she moved towards him. She smelt divine. Of coconuts and mango and something he couldn’t put his finger on. Pheromones? He’d never felt an attraction towards Terri-Lee before, despite her good looks, and yet suddenly he felt a distinct shift in his feelings. She looked up at him shyly, her blue eyes wide.
Fred felt a surge of lust that reminded him of his old life: it was as if that person he’d been in his twenties had suddenly reappeared out of nowhere. He leant down and kissed her. For a moment it felt exquisitely tender, but almost instantly Terri-Lee lost that shyness, and started pulling at their clothes.
‘Hey, hey, slow down,’ Fred mumbled, but Terri-Lee wouldn’t listen.
‘I can’t, I’m sorry . . . I’ve waited too long for this,’ she said, pulling her top over her head and shaking off her shorts, revealing an incredible figure: toned and tanned and wrapped up in a striking set of matching underwear. Fred tried to work out what felt wrong. Then he realised – it was the underwear. He’d thought Terri-Lee had turned up because she cared about him, with no agenda, but the undies told another story. Surely no one wore that sort of stuff unless they had a plan in mind?
‘Stop, wait . . .’ Fred said, but Terri-Lee still wouldn’t listen. In the end it was the shrill ringtone of Fred’s mobile that stopped her in her tracks.
‘Leave it!’ she whispered, but Fred grabbed his phone and answered it, feeling a massive sense of relief to have found a diversion.
‘Hey, it’s your realtor here,’ said the voice. ‘I hope you don’t mind me calling on a Sunday but I have good news for you, though it’s a little unusual. The couple who looked round your house last week have been in touch. They really want to buy it so I’ll discuss their offer with you in a minute, but before I do I need to check if you might be able to accommodate their needs. You see, the lease on the flat they’re renting runs out tomorrow and they have literally nowhere to live. If they have to, they can check into a hotel or stay with friends, but what they’d really love to do is rent your place until the sale goes through? I know it’s a bit unusual, and I don’t know your circumstances, but I thought it was worth checking. They’re willing to pay a very generous deposit up front and a pretty decent rent. Want me to run through the figures?’
Fred looked at Terri-Lee, standing there in her underwear looking expectant, and realised that the feeling of attraction he’d experienced had vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
‘I’m really sorry,’ he whispered to her. ‘This is mega-important. I need to take it.’
‘Is it her?’ she asked.
‘No, no, it’s not Enid.’
‘So I’ll wait,’ Terri-Lee answered with a pout and she wandered down the corridor towards Fred’s bedroom, carrying her clothes.
Fred listened to the realtor and scribbled down some notes, then agreed to head round to the office in the afternoon to finalise everything. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse – and the call had arrived at the perfect time, too, preventing him doing something he knew he’d have regretted. He said goodbye to the realtor and went to find Terri-Lee.
Fred’s face must have said it all, as she crossed her arms defensively the moment he found her in the bedroom. ‘I don’t believe this . . .’ she began.
‘I’m so sorry – you just caught me in a weak moment. I know it would never work between us, Tel. It’d just be classic rebound and you deserve better than that.’
‘What do you know about what I deserve?’ Terri-Lee replied bitterly as she began yanking her clothes back on. ‘You’ve just strung me along, haven’t you?’
‘I’ve never once made you any promises, mate. I thought we were friends.’
‘Well, we’re not any more!’ was her parting shriek, the fly screen clanging loudly as she slammed it on her way out.
Fred felt terrible. Terrible for Terri-Lee, terrible for Enid, terrible for himself. He sat down at his laptop, his mind spinning, but he didn
’t have time to dwell on anything. He needed to think about where he could go, now that he needed to vacate his house by the following day. There was Mike, Fred supposed – his old cricketing mate in Sydney. Fred gave him a call and Mike told him in his affable and generous way that Fred would be more than welcome to stay for as long as he wanted. So he found the travel website he needed and set about using some more of his loan from Todd on booking a flight (a couple more days and he’d be in a position to pay him back), only to find his computer crashing just at the moment he was about to pay for it.
Fred pushed his laptop away from him in despair and got himself a beer, then began packing up his belongings instead. After that he cycled to his meeting with the realtor and, everything signed and sorted, he returned home to finish off his packing.
When he finally got into bed it was nearly midnight. He lay under the sheets thinking about Terri-Lee and feeling bad again. It made him realise that he’d rejected her just like he’d been rejected by Enid, and perhaps he at least owed Enid the chance to explain why she didn’t want him to fly over to see her. He looked at his phone and, after a few more minutes’ deliberation, found himself unblocking the phone numbers he’d petulantly barred in his anger. Almost instantly, his phone rang.
‘Fred, it’s Bess, I’ve tried calling a million times! Thank you so, so much for unblocking me, if that’s what you did. Listen, I got it all wrong. About Enid not wanting you to come and stay. The opposite is true. She really wants to see you! Is there any way I could get you to reconsider?’
Fred rubbed at his temples, unable to believe his ears.
‘No way, Bess! I’m too tired of being mucked around. I’m tired through and through. Anyway, if Enid wants me that much, why isn’t she the one calling me?’
‘Because she doesn’t realise I told you not to come! She’d be devastated if she knew.’
‘What? But you said she categorically didn’t want me to visit.’
‘She did say that, it’s true, but then she had a wake-up call and realised how important you are to her. She asked me not to say anything to you about not coming over, but of course by then it was too late. And after that I couldn’t get hold of you to explain.’
‘So she doesn’t know you’re calling me now?’
‘No. I’m trying to repair the damage before she realises. You know what she’s like, Fred – how sensitive she is.’
‘Turns out she’s not the only one. I was gutted when you told me not to visit . . . and now, I’m sorry, but I can’t take a chance on her changing her mind again once I’ve forked out for another flight. I can’t go through this again. I know it’ll be hard for her, but I have feelings too.’
‘I’m so sorry, I feel awful! Please, Fred,’ Bess begged. ‘Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?’
‘No,’ Fred told her. ‘It’s over now, Bess. Finished. Done.’
Fred hung up and settled down to sleep, thinking it would come easily, but he found his brain couldn’t stop whirring. It wasn’t just his brain either – it was that instinct of his, the feeling he’d always trusted, nudging at him persistently. Eventually, at three in the morning, he admitted defeat. He grappled around for his phone and, pausing only to do a bit of mental arithmetic (he worked out he had enough dollars left over from Todd for one final flight), he rang Bess’s number. She answered after one ring.
‘Bess, mate, I’ve had a chance to think about it. Look, I’m going to give it one more go. But if I get to the airport and there’s any trouble at all then I’m going to take it as a sign that Enid and I just aren’t meant to be.’
‘Oh, Fred, I’m so pleased! What shall I tell Enid? Do you want to talk to her? Shall I tell her you’re coming over?’
‘No. Look, I’ll try to get on a flight tomorrow – today, in fact – but don’t tell Enid anything. I just want to know that nothing else is going to stop us getting together first. Can we keep it a secret?’
‘Sure,’ Bess agreed.
‘It’s like a farce,’ Fred told her. ‘But let’s hope it’ll all be worth it.’
Chapter Thirty
Tuesday 19 December 2017
Enid
It wasn’t as though I was transformed or anything. I was feeling pretty buoyant in my new frame of mind, but I always know that – even at the best of times – the Asperger’s is there and the depression can strike at any time. Still, I decided to seize the moment and speak to Harry Harrison about the school play. It would take my mind off Fred, yet again, and the fact I hadn’t been able to speak to him since my attempt to get to Australia. I rang him first thing. He answered after two rings.
‘Hello?’
‘Harry Harrison, it’s Enid. Bess said the kids aren’t too enthusiastic about the play. Can I help? Maybe if I came in and had a chat with them about their characters? I could bring in a couple of hedgehogs, even? My baby ones are hibernating in their nest box now, but I could bring the box in to show the children.’
‘Brilliant idea! Could you come in this afternoon? We’ve got a rehearsal at two.’
By the time I arrived at the school with the box containing a couple of my little friends I was regretting the idea, though I was relieved to see Harry Harrison was the only adult around. Speaking to kids is a different proposition to trying to address a group of adults. I could never do that.
‘Enid!’ Harry Harrison hurried over and relieved me of my box. He looked like he’d had a long day, his pink shirtsleeves rolled up and his eyes tired-looking and bloodshot.
‘Do you want me to introduce you or anything?’ he asked, popping the box down gently.
I shook my head and knelt down beside the stage next to the hedgehogs.
‘What’ve you got in there?’ asked a little girl with pigtails.
‘Hedgehogs!’ I said.
‘Really? Can we see?’ she asked, and immediately all the children were surrounding me.
‘You can,’ I said. ‘But you’ve got to be really quiet, okay, because they’ve only just gone into hibernation, which means they’ll sleep now until the spring. This one here is called Santa,’ I said, pointing to the larger juvenile. ‘And this little one here is an orphan called Elf.’
‘They’re adorable!’ the pigtail girl said and all the children gawped, amazed.
‘Are they prickly?’ another child asked.
‘No, as long as they’re relaxed, they just feel like a hairbrush,’ I explained. ‘So the little orphan one is what the woodland animals find in The Christmas Forest,’ I explained. ‘You can see how full of wonder the animals would have been to come across her, can’t you? And how it might have jogged Fox’s memory and made him remember the real meaning of Christmas.’
I chatted to them a little more about the creatures, with Dan chipping in about owls, and then Harry Harrison suggested the cast rehearse in front of me.
Towards the end of the run-through, I turned to him.
‘What are you worried about?’ I whispered. ‘They’re very good!’
Harry Harrison shook his head in wonder. ‘They weren’t,’ he said. ‘But you’ve done something, Enid: you’ve sparked their interest. I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘You don’t need to – I’m just glad I could help. But I’d better get these little friends of mine back home.’
By the time I got back it was dark and bitterly cold. I settled the hedgehogs into the warm shed, then headed inside and put all the lights on. Bess can never understand why I don’t use my lamps, but it’s such a faff putting them all on and the main lights are far more effective. I went into the kitchen, thinking about what I might eat for supper, and found a note on the island in Bess’s writing.
I’ve done it! I’ve finished with Nigel. Would you come and keep me company tonight? We can commiserate (me) and celebrate (you). I’ll give you supper. See you at seven?
‘Sorry, Clifford,’ I said as he wound himself around my legs. ‘But I won’t be long.’
I found Bess in a rather strang
e sort of state, which I put down to her having just dumped Nigel. She was all twittery and flushed and couldn’t sit still.
‘Are you upset?’ I asked, eyeing her over my wine glass.
‘What about?’
‘Nigel, of course!’
‘Oh . . . Yes, I am, for all sorts of reasons, but I’ll tell you about it later,’ she said, flapping her hands around. ‘Erm, I’m just going to . . . Oh, listen, there’s the doorbell. I wonder who that could be!’
‘Maybe it’s the rector! You’re a free agent now, as well!’
‘Won’t be a sec. Back in a tick,’ she said, skipping off to the door. She seemed to take ages. In the end I went through to the sitting room to see what was going on. It was so murky dark in there, thanks to Bess’s ‘atmospheric’ lamps and sparkling fairy lights, but amidst the gloom I saw a man; a tall man with greying hair and a suntan, taking off his jacket. Behind him, in the porch, was a suitcase.
‘Fred!’ I called out, my voice breaking with emotion.
He looked at me, a wide smile on his face, and I knew immediately – in an instant – that all my previous doubts and anxieties had been unfounded. Fred abandoned Bess and his case and ran towards me.
‘Watch the—’ Bess shouted out, as Fred whacked his head on a beam, knocking himself clean out.
PART FOUR
Chapter Thirty-one
Tuesday 19 December 2017
Bess
What a day! Towards the end of the morning I decided to call Nigel to finish things with him. Only it wasn’t Nigel who answered his phone. It was a woman.
‘Nigel’s phone,’ she giggled.
‘Who is it?’ I asked.
‘Oh, it’s Rowena,’ she answered. ‘Do you want to talk to him? He’s right here!’ There was the sound of mumbled conversation and then Nigel came to the phone.
‘Bess, I’m so sorry you’ve had to find out in this way . . .’
The Christmas Forest Page 10