The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’

  ‘I know that I need to tell Martin, I really do, but it hasn’t been the right time.’

  ‘Perhaps you could tell him tomorrow. Does he take Saturdays off?’

  ‘He’s trying to finish a job, so he’s been working some hours on weekends, but if I tell him it’s important, I’m sure he’ll make time. We need to decide what to do as a family, anyway. I can’t make these decisions alone. They’re just too big.’

  ‘Do you mean you’ve considered . . . ?’

  Jenny’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘It’s not what I want to do. I’m a firm believer in a woman’s right to choose, but whenever I’ve tried to imagine not going ahead with the pregnancy, I’ve been hit by the reality that this baby is part of me and Martin and a sibling to Tilda and Lizzy. Then I go through the whole, it’ll work out pep talk, and it seems fine until I wake in the morning and the fears start choking me all over again.’

  ‘You really do need to speak to Martin. At least you could work this through together then, because at the moment you’re carrying everything on your shoulders. He’ll be able to help you, I’m sure.’

  ‘How would you feel though, Clare? If you got pregnant now?’

  Clare sipped her tea. How would she feel? ‘Honestly?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. My marriage wasn’t . . . physical for a long time. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to . . . but Jason wasn’t interested. He hadn’t looked at me in that way for ages.’

  Her cheeks burned at the confession. Knowing that her husband hadn’t wanted her, even when she had tried to reason it away as being down to the fact that they’d been together for so long, had been humiliating. She’d felt undesirable, frumpy, unwanted.

  ‘I’m sorry, Clare, that’s not fair.’

  Clare shrugged. ‘It stopped worrying me after a while, I think I just assumed that most marriages were the same. It wasn’t that I didn’t think about how nice it would be to have a man gaze at me with interest, or kiss me passionately . . .’ Her mind strayed to Sam and how it would feel to have his lips against her own, his strong arms embracing her, and adrenaline coursed through her, making her momentarily lightheaded. She put her hands self-consciously to her cheeks and took a few slow deep breaths. ‘I’m only human, I guess, and I do have desires.’ She giggled then and met Jenny’s eyes. Her friend was nodding.

  ‘Of course you do – and you’re a beautiful woman, Clare. Any man would be lucky to have you and you deserve to be happy.’

  ‘Hardly.’ Clare huffed. Then she considered her reaction. She wasn’t in bad shape, she was warm and loving, and she did deserve to be happy. ‘No, you’re right. I do deserve happiness. I’m not sure that it needs to come in the form of a man, but a hug and the odd night of hot sex wouldn’t go amiss.’

  They both laughed and it felt good for Clare to have someone to talk to about these things again. Someone who wouldn’t judge her for having these feelings, for wanting to be held by a man again, at least once in her life. What was so wrong with that? But, of course, there were other things she wanted too; she just needed to figure out exactly what they were.

  ‘Look, Clare, life doesn’t end once you hit forty. I’ve read enough articles in magazines at work and spoken to enough clients in the salon in their forties, fifties, sixties and beyond and sex doesn’t stop just because you’re no longer twenty-five. Where there’s a will – or a willy, in some cases . . .’ Jenny winked, ‘there’s a way. And why shouldn’t there be? Life is for living.’

  ‘You’re so right, Jen.’

  ‘Unfortunately, though, my desire for my husband and his for me led to this little accident.’ Jenny patted her belly, slightly rounded beneath her top.

  ‘Do you know how far along you are?’

  Jenny pursed her lips. ‘I haven’t been to the GP yet, but I had a look back through my dates on the app on my phone and I could be around four months.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘I know. I didn’t know I should still be using protection. Bloody fertile body having its last hurrah, I bet.’

  Clare nodded. ‘But if you’re that far along, Jen, then the pregnancy must be pretty strong.’

  Jenny pulled up her top and Clare gasped. Jenny’s belly was round and tight, the skin shiny where it was being stretched. ‘It seems to have popped out overnight.’

  ‘Well, at least the morning sickness should pass soon then.’

  ‘I don’t know – it’s like my body is getting revenge for feeling fine and leaving me in blissful oblivion for the first few months.’

  ‘Will you go to the GP soon?’

  Jenny nodded. ‘I’ve made up my mind – I’ll speak to Martin tonight. I won’t wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘He’ll be tired, but I’ll make him dinner, then I’ll tell him.’

  ‘You don’t think he has any idea?’

  ‘He just thinks I’ve been eating too many treats at work and that I’ve had stomach flu these past couple of weeks. You know what men can be like. They don’t want to believe that there’s anything to worry about unless you actually spell it out for them. Martin works so hard and he just wants a quiet life.’

  ‘He’s not going to get much quiet for the next few years.’

  Clare winced, wishing she could take the comment back because Jenny hadn’t made any decisions yet, but Jenny sniggered nervously. ‘He’s going to go mad.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t do this on your own, so he has to take responsibility too.’

  ‘Two to tango and all that?’

  ‘Exactly. As you said, where there’s a willy . . .’ Clare smiled again, enjoying that they could be silly together too. ‘Right, Mrs Rolands, you go and have a bath and put some clean clothes on and I’ll tidy up a bit. Not that I’m suggesting that your home is a mess or anything, but . . .’

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry. You could never offend me, Clare.’

  ‘Well, there was that one time . . .’ she said, thinking about when they’d argued about Jason.

  Jenny waved a hand dismissively. ‘We were young and hot-headed. We just needed to clear the air and if you hadn’t left the next day, we’d have made up again. Just like always.’

  They stood up and Jenny hugged Clare, causing a host of emotions to flood through her. Seeing her oldest friend in her home, knowing how vulnerable she was right now and realising exactly how much they’d missed out on over the years was proving to be very emotional. She loved Jenny and had done for as long as she could remember. At least now they could be there for each other again.

  Jenny released her, then padded across the room and Clare rolled up her sleeves. It was time to get to work.

  ‘What’s up?’ Magnus asked as he set two pints of beer down on the table at The Red. ‘Your face looks like you’re chewing a wasp.’

  ‘What?’ Sam frowned at Magnus. ‘I look like I’m chewing a wasp?’

  ‘Yes!’ He chuckled. ‘Especially now.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Sam pulled his mobile from his pocket and checked the screen again. No text messages or missed calls. It was just gone seven. Should he text Clare to find out if she was coming or would that be too pushy? What were the rules of engagement these days anyway? It had been so long since he’d dated, since he’d pursued a woman or had so much as expressed an interest in anyone. Liking Clare was probably a really bad idea and not going to get him anywhere. They weren’t dating, were barely even friends, and perhaps she’d been keen to get away from him today and had no interest in seeing him socially again. And yet, when he was around her he felt certain that there was something between them, a spark, something that fizzed like champagne, things yet to be said, yet to be done.

  ‘Why do you keep checking your phone?’ Magnus asked. Sam looked at him, his eyes drawn to the foam that was clinging to his blond moustache like an extra layer of hair. ‘Are you waiting for a message from her?’

  ‘It depends who you m
ean by her.’ Sam sipped his drink, wishing he’d ordered a spirit instead, something to numb the rising anxiety.

  ‘I mean Clare. Are you expecting to hear from her?’

  Sam shifted on his seat. How did Magnus know?

  ‘You’re wondering why I said Clare?’

  ‘Yes. Why would you think it was her?’

  ‘I’m part psychic.’ Magnus closed his eyes and placed his forefingers either side of his brow, then exhaled loudly. ‘You were expecting Clare to come this evening. Yes?’

  Sam nodded. Great. Now Magnus could read him like a book. He’d never been very good at hiding his emotions, but he had been quite good at pushing them away. Clare coming to the village, Alyssa getting into a relationship, the past threatening to catch up with him . . . it was all building like a tornado that would, sooner or later, whip him off his feet and carry him away. Sam was always, always in control, but he had a feeling that the tight grip he’d exerted on his life was slipping and some days he thought it might actually be nice to let go and feel that release. Surely no one could control everything in their life? Surely, at some point, something had to give . . .

  ‘I’m teasing you, Sam. The reason I thought it was Clare was because, firstly, you have chemistry with her. I’ve never seen you act like that around another woman before. With Clare, it’s like you come alive.’

  ‘Come alive?’

  ‘Yes. You become animated, you relax a bit and let go of the . . .’ Magnus tapped his chest with his fists. ‘The tension that you always hold there. That slightly awkward way you carry yourself.’

  ‘Right.’ Magnus wasn’t doing a lot for Sam’s self-confidence. Sam pushed his shoulders back, suddenly painfully aware of how tight they were, of the tension across his chest and the way it made his head ache. ‘I’m awkward.’

  Magnus laughed. ‘And secondly, because I saw you earlier from the surgery window, you and Clare, gazing intently into each other’s eyes like the whole world had come to a stop and nothing else mattered.’

  ‘Ha! I think you’re getting carried away now, Magnus.’ Sam coughed, trying to clear away his embarrassment.

  ‘I don’t think so. You exchanged numbers, right?’

  ‘Uh . . . yes.’

  ‘And you asked her to come tonight?’

  ‘We’re friends.’

  ‘Good.’ Magnus nodded. ‘That is a good basis for a romance. Friends first, love comes next with all the passion and fun.’

  Sam couldn’t help himself then, he smiled. ‘You’re an old romantic, Magnus.’

  ‘I know. It’s my Viking blood. It runs hot and red like a river of fire.’

  ‘Is that the line you use on dates?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Magnus winked to show he was teasing.

  Just then, Sam’s mobile buzzed on the table where he’d put it face down after checking it for the hundredth time that hour. Magnus stared at it. Sam stared at it.

  It buzzed again.

  ‘Go on then, take a look.’ Magnus smiled.

  Sam shrugged. ‘Maybe later.’

  ‘I’ll check it for you, shall I? To be honest, Sam, I can’t stand the suspense.’

  Sam laughed, then picked up the phone and, sure enough, he had a message from Clare. Reading it twice, disappointment swirled inside him.

  ‘She can’t make it.’ He put the phone down on the table again and picked up his glass. ‘She’s with a friend and won’t be here in time for the quiz.’

  ‘Sorry, man.’ Magnus patted Sam’s shoulder. ‘Another time maybe?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘It’s a genuine reason, Sam, and at least she did text you. She could have left you wondering all evening.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Sam sighed. Magnus was right. Clare could have left him wondering all night, but she had taken the time to send him a text. He was disappointed, wanted to see her and to talk to her again, watch as the light shone on her silky brown hair and observe the endearing way she worried her bottom lip whenever the blush bloomed in her cheeks. The blush that rose so readily when he teased her and sometimes when he didn’t. Would that same blush fill her cheeks in a moment of passion? Would she bite her lip then as she was carried away with desire and delicious sensation?

  He took a long drink from his glass. Thinking like this wasn’t helping matters. The text could be Clare’s way of letting him down gently, of informing him that she did have better things to do on a Friday evening than spend it in the pub with him. It wasn’t a nice thought but sometimes it was better to face the truth, however much he’d prefer to reassure himself with other possibilities.

  With hope.

  ‘That feels better.’ Jenny entered the kitchen-diner wearing fresh pyjamas, her hair damp and her face shiny.

  ‘You look better too.’ Clare smiled, glad to see some colour in Jenny’s cheeks.

  ‘Thanks. It’s amazing the difference a bath can make to how you feel. Just washing my hair helped.’ She pushed her sweeping side fringe back from her forehead and tucked it behind a small ear. ‘Wow, Clare! You’ve cleaned up in here. Thank you so much.’

  Clare shrugged. ‘It’s no problem – and it wasn’t that bad.’

  The dirty dishes had been loaded into the dishwasher, the surfaces cleared and disinfected, and the washing sorted into lights and darks, then the first load put on. Clare had also run a duster around the furniture in the diner and lit a scented candle that she’d found under the sink, so the room smelt of ginger and vanilla.

  The light was fading outside so she’d turned on the lamps in the corners and the room had a cosy feel. She could imagine summer days spent here with the bifold doors open, letting in the aroma of roses and honeysuckle as the birds sang into the twilight. Would she be here in the summer to spend time with Jenny and her family? She wouldn’t have thought so just weeks ago, but she was starting to consider staying here as a definite possibility. Jenny might well have her new baby by then and Clare could come and help her, possibly even do some childminding for her when she returned to work after her maternity leave. Anything was possible now that there were no other commitments holding Clare back. She had her half of the money from the sale of the house, after all, so she could put a deposit down on somewhere local and create a new home of her own. Of course, she did need to consider looking for a job and would do so if she decided to stay in the village. Otherwise, she could go anywhere that she found work. Having been back now for over five weeks, the idea of leaving was difficult, but if she couldn’t find a job, she’d probably have to leave at some point. Kyle had spoken about having Christmas together and she really wanted that, plus there was the show to think of, so if she did leave, it would be in the New Year. That gave her time to think more and to check out the local job market.

  Whatever happened, she would be fully independent, in control of her own life, and no man would be able to tell her that she couldn’t buy what she wanted for dinner, that she needed to pluck the hair that had sprouted on her chin (a recent and unwelcome addition, but one that she found quite amusing at times) or that she should try to exercise more. Clare would exercise if she wanted to, take care of herself for herself, and no man would ever make her feel as low as Jason had done again. Even though she tried not to blame him, he had been responsible for his own behaviour, and he hadn’t always been as kind or considerate as he could have been.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Jenny asked, placing a warm hand on Clare’s arm.

  ‘Oh . . . yes.’

  ‘You looked miles away then and a bit sad.’

  ‘I’m not sad. Just thinking about all the good things to come.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Jenny sighed. ‘I hope it’s all good.’

  ‘It will be.’ Clare gave her a hug. ‘What time will Martin be home?’

  ‘Any minute now.’

  ‘Good, because dinner is ready.’

  ‘You cooked as well?’

  Jenny peered at the range cooker, but it wasn’t on.

  ‘Wel
l, I hard boiled some eggs and made a salad from what was in the fridge. There was some cooked salmon in there too, so I thought you could have that or I could heat some soup for you.’

  ‘Salmon will be fine. I can stomach that and, again, thank you.’ Jenny’s eyes glistened. ‘I’m not used to this.’

  ‘To what?’

  ‘Having a friend around to take care of me.’

  ‘Jen.’ Clare pulled her into another hug. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ She sniffed.

  ‘Not being here.’

  ‘I wasn’t there for you either. Who took care of you when you needed a friend? Did you have friends in Reading?’

  ‘Some. But they weren’t like you. They were people at work and other mums with children Kyle’s age, and I don’t know . . . I never let them get close, was always on my guard. I think that after I left here and we drifted apart, I was afraid to trust in friendship again.’

  ‘Now I feel even worse.’ Jenny’s nose started to run as she cried.

  ‘No! Don’t! That wasn’t what I wanted. I was just trying to explain why I didn’t get close to anyone. I was just as much to blame as you were. I could have tried to heal the rift between us, made more of an effort to come and see you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter anymore, Clare. You’re back now when I need you most.’

  Clare started to cry and they held each other tight, rocking gently from side to side.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Martin’s deep voice made them start and Clare gently released Jenny and wiped her tears away with her fingers.

  ‘We were just being sentimental,’ Jenny said, as she pulled a tissue from the pocket of her pyjama bottoms.

  ‘And reminiscing.’ Clare smiled wanly and Jenny took her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Looks and smells lovely in here, Jen,’ Martin said as he went to the fridge and brought out a bottle of beer. ‘Either of you want one?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Clare shook her head.

  ‘Jen? No?’ Martin looked at Clare. ‘My wine-loving wife has turned teetotal recently. Saved us a small fortune on dry white.’ He laughed but Jenny caught Clare’s eye and raised her eyebrows.