The Christmas Wish List

by Heidi Swain

  *

  The mystery delivery turned out to be a huge bouquet of stunning winter flowers. A hand-tied mass of cream-coloured chrysanthemums, deep red roses and an excess of greenery interspersed with little woven willow stars which had been sprayed gold.

  ‘My goodness,’ gasped Rose as she came into the staffroom after releasing her class at the end of the day. ‘What have you done to deserve those, Hattie?’

  I didn’t need to open the card to know that they were from Jonathan and would have been sent by way of apology after our argument. This was just the sort of gesture he went in for and as lovely as the flowers were, I felt really rather rotten that he had sent them. Surely, I should have been the one sending something to him? And more to the point, how had he known to have them delivered to the school? I was certain I hadn’t let slip about my plans to volunteer because I knew he would have objected and said I should be resting as I was on holiday.

  ‘So,’ said Beamish, wandering in and joining in with the conversation. ‘Who are they from?’

  ‘One of Hattie’s many admirers,’ said Dolly with emphasis.

  ‘You didn’t think you were the only one, did you, Beamish?’ laughed Rose.

  Poor Beamish turned bright red and disappeared again.

  ‘What did you mean by that, Rose?’ I asked, still puzzling over the choice of delivery destination.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she replied, sniffing the pint of milk which had been left out of the fridge all afternoon before deciding to risk it.

  Whatever she was getting at, it wasn’t obvious to me.

  Chapter 8

  Before we left school that evening, I made use of the ICT suite to check my emails. Jonathan had already mailed me and attached lots of photos of the apartment he favoured most and where we would hopefully be living in just a few short weeks. His photos were far better than the agent’s and I was in complete agreement that he had picked the perfect place for us. I took my time, admiring the high spec, stylish details and cloudless blue sky beyond the windows. It didn’t look all that dissimilar to the flat we shared now, but this one would be ours, as opposed to Jonathan’s, from the off, and I couldn’t help thinking it was us to a T.

  I replied, thanking him for the flowers, but not mentioning the delivery address, and added my thoughts about our new abode, still wishing that I could have been there for the first viewing. Seeing where I was going to live on screen and imagining the life I would lead there, had put me back on track; my decision to go had been the right one. Wynbridge and Dolly’s cosy cottage were wonderful for a quaint rural holiday, but the sleek images in front of me represented the kind of couple Jonathan and I were and I knew we were going to be very happy there.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Dolly, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘You’ll soon make it look like home.’

  I hadn’t heard her come in so I jumped, biting back the expletive on my lips when I remembered I was still at school.

  ‘I think it already does,’ I said, looking up at her.

  Her comment had made me feel a little defensive.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said, cocking her head as she bent to get a better look, ‘but a few cushions on that sofa and some houseplants dotted about the place might make it feel a bit cosier, or should I say hygge? That’s one of the buzzwords for comfortable interiors now, isn’t it?’

  I wasn’t sure hygge was a thing in Abu Dhabi and I wasn’t sure how Jonathan would feel about the introduction of a spider plant or a cactus, but the cushions wouldn’t go amiss.

  ‘Perhaps you could even have a cat of your own,’ Dolly added for good measure.

  I closed the screen down.

  ‘Because I’m such a big fan,’ I laughed, ‘No, I don’t really think a cat, or a pet of any sort, will work for us out there and as lovely as the apartment is, we’ll be spending more time out of it than in.’

  ‘I hope you aren’t planning on working all hours again, Hattie.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘Not work necessarily. I just mean we’ll be living a very different lifestyle to the one that you have here in Wynbridge.’

  She didn’t get the chance to start listing the virtues of a welcoming hearth or remind me that home should be where the heart is.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Beamish, ‘Come on, you two. We need to going or we’ll never get parked.’

  ‘It’s not even four yet,’ I reminded him. ‘Surely it’s still too early to see the lights.’

  ‘But we’re shopping first,’ he reminded me, ‘and it’s a dull old day. By the time we’ve got what we want in town the light tour will be getting busy.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Dolly, accepting his offer of help as she pulled on her coat, ‘and I don’t want to be too late to bed, not with the fair looming. It’ll be bedlam in here tomorrow afternoon, it always is.’

  Beamish had been right to chivvy us along because we weren’t the only early arrivals in town and he was also right about the lights. The murky sky meant it was almost dark by the time we had stowed my bouquet safely in the truck and reached the market. The whole place was looking, sounding and smelling very festive and even I, who had so adamantly maintained that I wasn’t all that bothered about Christmas, felt a brief flicker of excitement as I listened to the carollers in front of the huge tree and thrust my hand into the bag of hot roasted chestnuts Beamish had treated himself to.

  ‘Does this count as Christmas food?’ I asked Dolly as I munched my way through what was probably more than my fair share of the sweet yet earthy treats. ‘Can I tick festive food off the list now I’ve eaten these?’

  ‘What is this list you keep mentioning?’ Beamish asked. ‘You were on about it the other day.’

  I wasn’t going to tell him, but Dolly had no such qualms about sharing our secret.

  ‘It’s my secret weapon for making Hattie fall back in love with Christmas before she leaves these shores in the New Year,’ she told him.

  ‘And so far, it’s been nothing but hard work,’ I grumbled.

  ‘Give it time,’ Dolly said back.

  ‘But you’re going to Abu Dhabi, aren’t you?’ frowned Beamish. ‘Christmas there’s a bit different to here.’

  ‘I know,’ I told him. ‘I have been before.’

  ‘And did you like it?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said, wrinkling my nose, before quickly adding, ‘the Christmas bit, I mean.’

  ‘Then surely this list is a bit mean, Dolly.’ He frowned. ‘Why would you want to send Hattie off with a hankering for all the things you’re making her experience again when you know she won’t be able to have them out there?’

  I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I wasn’t too worried. She still had a long way to go before I was back in love with any of it.

  ‘It’s about giving her the chance to make some memories to take with her as much as anything else,’ said Dolly, justifying her plan. ‘I want her to look back on this time we spent together fondly and remember Wynbridge in winter for all the right reasons.’

  ‘What might be the wrong ones?’ I frowned.

  Dolly didn’t answer.

  ‘In that case,’ said Beamish, ‘you’ll have to show me this list. I might be able to help with it. I’m assuming you’ve put a kiss under the mistletoe somewhere near the top.’

  ‘Funnily enough,’ I tutted, ‘kissing isn’t featured anywhere on the list at all.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, screwing up the now empty chestnut bag and grinning. ‘We’ll have to see about that, won’t we? Or would your admirer not approve, Hattie?’

  Jonathan most certainly would not approve of me kissing someone else, even with a bunch of mistletoe in the vicinity.

  ‘Right,’ said Dolly, before I could answer. ‘Why don’t we split up, that way we can buy our presents in secret? Let’s meet back here in an hour and then we can get going with the tour. Unlike the mistletoe, that’s definitely on the list.’

  Whereas at the switch-on I had felt a little out place bein
g among everyone who knew each other, I now found a few more familiar faces among the throng and there were plenty of people who knew me, even if I didn’t know them.

  ‘How did you like your flowers?’ asked the woman on the fruit and veg stall as I walked by. ‘I knew you were working at the school so I thought it best to take them there rather than leave them shivering on the doorstep at Dolly’s which is where they were supposed to go.’

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ I said, stopping to answer and feeling relieved to have that little mystery cleared up. ‘Thank you. Did you arrange them?’

  ‘I did,’ she said proudly. ‘I’m Marie Dempster. I’m a florist by trade but I’m helping my husband and son out on the stall tonight as it’s so busy.’

  ‘Hello, Miss,’ said a voice behind me and I felt a firm tug on the hem of my jacket.

  ‘Hello, Thomas,’ I said, turning around. ‘Are you Christmas shopping?’

  ‘Dad is,’ he said, pointing at his father.

  ‘You must be Hattie?’ His dad smiled. ‘Thomas tells me you’ve helped him make something special for the fair tomorrow.’

  Thomas’s bauble was positively groaning with glitter and sequins and I’d had to reinforce his ribbon to stop it weighing down the branches of Dolly’s old tree.

  ‘I have,’ I smiled, winking at Thomas. ‘But it’s a secret, isn’t it, Thomas?’

  He nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ said his dad as they moved off.

  ‘Alison was telling me you’ve been a godsend already,’ said Marie, picking our conversation up again. ‘Poor Mrs Newton was frazzled before you arrived.’

  So was Mr Patterson, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to say as much.

  ‘I’ve only been there a couple of days,’ I said instead. ‘I can’t have made that much difference.’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ she laughed. ‘Now, what can I get you?’

  I didn’t want to buy anything from her stall, but she very kindly directed me to the Cherry Tree one where I spent much of my shopping time looking through the pretty makes which Lizzie Dixon had put together. I hadn’t really expected to buy anything from there either, but was soon seduced by what was on offer.

  I found a floral-patterned quilted knitting bag for Dolly, which Ruby, the young woman running the stall, told me Lizzie had made herself and then I crossed the road to the gallery where I found the perfect supersized chunky scarf for Beamish which was also locally made. He would be able to wind it around his neck and have yarn to spare.

  As I stowed my purchases out of sight, I couldn’t help thinking that picking out my presents and chatting to the sellers had been far more pleasurable than clicking a few buttons and loading up my PayPal account when I was home alone.

  ‘What did you get?’ asked Beamish who had crept up in full stealth mode behind me.

  ‘Jeez!’ I jumped. ‘About three years knocked off my life expectancy, I reckon.’

  He laughed and tried to look into the bag.

  ‘No peeking,’ I told him firmly, nudging him to one side. ‘What did you buy?’

  He had far more bags than me, but then he no doubt had more folk to buy for. He certainly seemed to know everyone.

  ‘No peeking,’ he mimicked, nudging me back. ‘But our time’s up. Let’s go and meet Dolly. I know she’s desperate to see these lights.’

  As we drove around the little town, the map from the Wynbridge tourist information representative guiding our way to the illuminations, I could sense Dolly’s excitement to see how everyone else had decorated their homes.

  There were plenty of garishly adorned front doors, tinsel toting fence posts and lavishly lit facades and I knew Jonathan would have hated them all. He would have berated everything on display and I realised that my ‘tacky Christmas tat’ comment had indeed come straight from his phrase book, not mine. I would have to watch that. I might not have been a huge fan of the flashing lights and inflatables myself, but my own opinion was nowhere near as harsh as my other half’s, so why express it?

  ‘I’ve saved the biggest for last,’ said Beamish as we drove out of town. ‘This one is definitely the most spectacular.’

  After a mile or two he turned off the narrow twisty road and onto an even more twisty and potholed drive.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as we turned the last corner and were faced with what looked like a stately home. ‘That’s incredible.’

  ‘That’s Wynthorpe Hall,’ smiled Dolly.

  The hall was lifted straight off the pages of a fairy tale and we weren’t the only ones who had turned out to take a look at it. I could see lots of people milling about. The entire house was draped in the warm white lights I had mentioned to Dolly, and was definitely worthy of the coveted front page of a glossy magazine. Noting the rapture on Beamish’s face, I got the impression that he wasn’t likely to tease me about tasteful decorations on this occasion.

  ‘You introduced me to the owner, didn’t you?’ I said to Dolly as I leaned between the seats to get a better look.

  ‘That’s right,’ she nodded. ‘Catherine Connelly. This place has been in her family for generations but, like the town, its undergone quite a transformation in recent years.’

  ‘Her husband, Angus,’ Beamish laughed, ‘is mad keen on Christmas. He’s the one behind the Winter Wonderland.’

  Perhaps a sleigh ride around the grounds might not be such a bad idea after all and perhaps I shouldn’t grumble about the work Dolly’s list involved if visiting places like this also formed a part of it. I could well imagine that the memory of Wynthorpe Hall in winter, recalled while lying beside an infinity pool, under a cerulean sky, would help me cool off if nothing else.

  ‘I know you weren’t too keen when Catherine mentioned the event . . .’ Dolly said to me.

  ‘Yes, about that,’ I quickly cut in. ‘I think I might have been a bit hasty.’

  Dolly said she would add it to the Wish List and she might even telephone Catherine and ask if there was any chance of a private tour of the hall.

  ‘I’d love to get a look inside,’ she said, taking in the prettily lit windows, ‘and see how they decorate the family rooms. I love my little cottage,’ she added, ‘but it would be exciting to see how the other half lives, wouldn’t it?’

  I knew Dolly had maintained that she always did everything she wanted at Christmas, but clearly she was keener to make some extra special memories for herself than I first realised and even if she didn’t succeed in making me fall back in love with Christmas, I was going to make more of an effort to make sure that she ticked off everything she wanted to achieve.

  *

  After unloading the truck and making sure Dolly had a cup of tea, some biscuits from Jonathan’s hamper and a well-stoked fire, Beamish asked if I would like to go back into town with him.

  ‘I’m not going to be long,’ he said. ‘I’ll need a decent night’s sleep ahead of setting up for the fair in the morning, so you can’t use me dragging you out for a late night as an excuse not to come.’

  ‘It would do you good, Hattie,’ Dolly agreed.

  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘thank you, Beamish.’

  Truth be told, I wouldn’t have minded being dragged out for a late night. It had been a while, although going to the pub with Beamish was going to be a far cry from going out with Jonathan. That would involve hours of preparation; selecting the right outfit and applying flawless make-up. Heading out with a speedy slick of lip gloss and my hair in a messy bun was a completely different kettle of fish.

  If Jonathan had landed on Dolly’s doorstep then, I wasn’t sure he would have recognised me, but it felt good zipping out again without having to put in so much effort. I hadn’t let my cleanse, tone and moisturise routine slip because that was plain good sense, but it was nice to forget the rest for a few weeks. I knew that working in an Abu Dhabi hotel would require the whole pristine package, so this downtime Dolly had bestowe
d upon me was quite a luxury.

  ‘So,’ said Beamish, after we had arrived at The Mermaid and he had introduced me to the owners, Evelyn and Jim, ‘tell me some more about how you met Dolly. She said she used to come and stay in the most amazing hotel where you worked.’

  ‘The hotel was amazing when Dolly used to visit,’ I agreed. ‘It was run by the Lucca family and they were the most wonderful hosts.’

  I told him all about the little finishing touches the Luccas had considered so important, how the place had been a hit with families and how lots of customers, like Dolly, came back year after year.

  ‘It was a wonderful place to work then,’ I sighed.

  ‘But not now?’ Beamish questioned. ‘I mean, I know Dolly said you’d been made redundant but the hotel had changed hands, hadn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘the Luccas sold up a few years ago and it’s completely different now.’

  As I described to him all the changes which had occurred since the Luccas left, and how the place had gone from comfortable to corporate, I realised just how much I had changed too.

  The person I was in that moment, sitting opposite Beamish in jeans, drinking a lager, was far more like the person I had been when the Luccas were in charge, but that version of me rarely put in an appearance now. She was the Hattie which Dolly had been hoping to find, but before I knew it, I would be boarding a plane and leaving her behind for good.

  ‘So, what’s next?’ Beamish asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems to me that you’re absolutely loving your time volunteering in the school.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, is that what you’re going to do in Abu Dhabi? Have you got a job lined up in a school?’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said, ‘absolutely not. I haven’t got anything lined up, but I’m not thinking about schools. I’m going to be looking for another hotel position.’

  I had worked hard to gain my promotion and glowing reference and I was good at my job. There would be no point in letting all that go to waste.

  ‘I might even try for management,’ I told Beamish, lifting my chin a little. ‘I’m still young enough to be considered for an in-house management training programme.’