Snowflakes Over Bay Tree Terrace (Willowbury)

by Fay Keenan

  As Sam hopped over the wall, he again wondered about that conversation he’d overheard between Aidan and Tom when they’d said farewell that morning. If he didn’t know better… But that was stupid, and he was just jumping to conclusions. Just because Tom was gay, it didn’t mean he automatically fancied every bloke he saw, did it? And so what if Aidan hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since university? With army life and then his injuries, it was hardly surprising he’d not got close to anyone. Besides, he’d know if his own brother was coming out, surely?

  Putting Aidan out of his mind resolutely, he pushed the doorbell and waited for Florence to answer. Carpe diem, he, too thought, not for the first time that weekend.

  25

  After the euphoria of the performance of Much Ado About Christmas, Florence found herself pulled into the end-of-term celebrations at school. It had always been her favourite time of year to be in school, even if the near-constant chorus of ‘can we watch a video this lesson, Miss?’ got a little wearing after a while. It was a time for winding up pieces of work, talking to students about their Christmas plans and handing out more Haribo than she could reasonably carry single-handed.

  With only three days left of term, the majority of students were excited for the holiday, and Florence found herself getting in the mood, writing Christmas poems with her classes and sneaking in the odd Christmas-themed film.

  As the last day of term beckoned, Florence reflected on the kind of Christmas Day she was going to have. Her parents had indeed opted to spend the holiday abroad, and were already in Australia with her brother, who’d emigrated ten years ago. Turkey on the barbecue hadn’t really appealed to Florence, so she’d decided to stay at home on her own in Bay Tree Terrace instead of flying out to join them when term ended. In another year’s time, when the loft extension was complete and the house was more shipshape, she’d volunteer to do the hosting at her place, but for this year it was just going to be her, her sofa, a fridge-full of party food and Love Actually on Netflix. She was content enough with this choice; after all, she’d had a lot of happy times in this house when Great-Aunt Elsie was alive, including one memorable Christmas Day when her mother had been rather over generous with the sherry and Aunt Elsie had been so tipsy she’d taught them all to play poker in the afternoon.

  She did, however, find herself wondering what Sam and Aidan were going to be doing for the holidays. She figured that Sam was bound to be on shift for at least some of Christmas, but, even during their breakfast together, he hadn’t really said much about his movements over the holiday period. She tried not to be offended or unsettled by this; a childhood of being on military bases, and more than one Christmas of missing her father dreadfully when he’d been deployed in places far away from home, meant that she was accustomed to the uncertainty of jobs like this, and the circumspect nature of those who did the jobs. Sam may not be in the navy any more, but a career of being guarded about his movements seemed to still be having an effect on his communication skills.

  Struggling to her door on the day that school ended for the Christmas holidays, she nearly didn’t notice the envelope that was sellotaped to it at eye level, with its festively attached sprig of holly in one corner. She put down her box of holiday marking on the dividing wall in order to gently remove the envelope. On the front was simply her name. What could it be?

  Standing on the doorstep, she thumbed open the flap of the envelope and pulled out a Christmas card that had a series of penguins doing somersaults on icebergs on it. Inside was a short, but very sweet message that made her heart beat just that little bit faster. It read:

  If you have no other plans tonight, I would love it if you joined me for a pre-Christmas dinner. I’ve got the house to myself! My place at 6.30 p.m.?

  All love, S xx

  Florence smiled, then panicked. It was gone five-thirty now, which gave her not even an hour to make herself feel less teacher and more temptress. Since, due to school and Sam’s shifts, this would be the first time they’d seen each other for any significant amount of time since they’d spent the night together, she wanted to be able to give the evening her full attention. Divesting herself of coat, backpack and box of books, feeling slightly slovenly for not putting them in the right places, she headed upstairs and into the shower. A little part of her felt irritated that Sam had obviously just made the assumption that she wouldn’t have made any other plans for tonight, but, she reasoned, it wasn’t as if she’d had a roaring social life since she’d moved here, even with the Much Ado rehearsals. Shivering with anticipation despite the hot water, she wondered what tonight would bring.

  On the other side of the party wall, Sam was putting the finishing touches to a dinner that he hoped would show Florence that he wasn’t just good in the bedroom. He was, tomato soup notwithstanding, a decent cook, and as he checked the temperature of the oil in the fryer for his first course, breaded Camembert, which he would deep-fry and serve with rocket and cranberry sauce, he glanced at the clock. If Florence had got his note, she’d be knocking on the front door in less than half an hour. He’d prepared the main course, a delectable rib eye steak with green beans, which would only take a few minutes to flash fry on the griddle when they needed it. He’d cheated a bit on the crème brûlée and bought it, but, he reasoned, he couldn’t make it better than that, anyway.

  He’d packed Aidan off on the train to their mother’s place earlier that day, having promised his brother that he’d be heading down the day after, which was Christmas Eve. Sam knew that Aidan found the visits a trial, even more so since his discharge from the army, and did feel slightly guilty that he was leaving him to his mother’s untender mercies for one night, but, he reasoned, at some point he needed to let go a bit, give Aidan the space to cope with potentially stressful things on his own. It was tricky, but it was a step in the right direction to let Aidan go there before him. To be fair, they weren’t going to be at their mum’s place for long, anyway; Sam had rostered himself to work on Boxing Day and in that strange limbo period between Christmas and New Year that seemed to disorientate so many people. Since he didn’t have any family apart from Aidan close by, he figured he might as well volunteer to work most of the holiday period, although Christmas in Willowbury seemed like a more tantalising prospect now that he’d grown so close to Florence.

  Perhaps tonight would be a good time to tell her how he was starting to feel about her. He was, by nature, a private man, who didn’t shout about his emotions from the rooftops, but Florence had really got under his skin. As he put some rocket onto the plates for the starter, he found himself imagining what their future might be like together. After all, sharing her house and having Aidan next door where he could keep an eye on him would be perfect, wouldn’t it?

  He stopped that line of thought abruptly in its tracks. What was he even thinking? He and Florence still barely knew each other, after all. Perhaps it was just the euphoria of being opposite each other in the play that caused them to fall into bed together. Perhaps, when they sat down to dinner, they’d have absolutely nothing to talk about.

  Suddenly, he was gripped with anxiety. He shouldn’t have just stuck that note to her door and expected her to comply; she wasn’t one of his naval subordinates, after all. She was her own person, and, more than likely, she had plans for the last night of term, anyway. He’d behaved like an idiot. And anyway, if he’d wanted to ask her out on a date, why hadn’t he just asked to meet her at The Travellers’ Rest in town, instead? That place certainly had enough ambience to be a talking point. What happened if they just sat opposite each other in total silence all night, without Aidan to provide a chatty buffer between them?

  He was just about to text her and call it off when his phone pinged with a message. Heart thumping, although it was probably just Aidan sending him confirmation that he’d made it to their mother’s house and was already stuck into the Scotch, he wandered over to the kitchen table where he’d put it earlier.

  Thanks for the invite. Luckily I didn
’t have other plans! See you in a bit.

  Love F x

  Sam breathed out a long, slow, calming breath. So she hadn’t taken the invitation the wrong way, then. Thank goodness for that! She could have just chucked it in the recycling bin, after all. But she hadn’t.

  Oh God. She hadn’t. He’d better stop faffing with lettuce and go up and get changed. Putting down his phone, he raced upstairs.

  26

  Twenty-five minutes later, Florence put the finishing touches to her make-up and took one last look in the mirror. Dinner at Sam’s place wasn’t exactly going to be a formal affair, so she hadn’t gone overboard, although she had put on a festively patterned dress from Boden that she hadn’t been able to resist when they’d sent her a fifty-per-cent-off voucher a couple of weeks ago. Flat boots and a black cardigan completed the look and made her feel dressed up but not trussed like a Christmas turkey.

  A thought ran, unbidden, through her mind that perhaps she wouldn’t be wearing the dress for very long anyway. She rapidly shushed that thought.

  She was hungry after a long day at school, and she couldn’t help wondering if, without the context of the Dramatical Spectacular to focus on, she and Sam would find enough to talk about over dinner. Especially since Aidan wouldn’t be there. What if it was all a colossal let-down?

  It was too late now though. She’d texted her acceptance before she’d got in the shower. If it all got too awkward, she supposed she could just make her excuses and leave. It wasn’t as if she had far to walk home, after all.

  ‘Right,’ she said out loud, as if she was addressing a particularly tricky class and not staring doubtfully at herself in the mirror. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s dinner and hopefully a chat with a man you’re seriously attracted to and have already shagged. Chill.’

  She laughed out loud as she imagined what Aunt Elsie would say if she could have seen and heard her now. Somehow, she doubted the word ‘shagged’ had ever been spoken in this house before. To the best of her knowledge, Aunt Elsie had never had any romantic entanglements of her own, or, at least, none that she’d ever shared details of with Florence.

  Checking her appearance one last time, she headed down the stairs and, remembering at the last minute to grab her house keys, stepped outside her front door. She glanced around her briefly, ensuring there was no one there to witness her slightly ungainly hop over the dividing wall in a skirt, took a deep breath and then knocked on Sam’s front door.

  As the door opened, Florence let out the breath. Sam was wearing another beautiful cashmere jumper, this time in a striking midnight blue. She found her left hand reaching out, instinctively, until she realised what she was doing and stopped.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, leaning forward and giving her a brief kiss on the mouth. ‘I’m really glad you didn’t have any other plans tonight.’

  ‘Well, Adam Driver called, but I decided I’d rather spend the evening with you instead,’ Florence teased as she crossed the threshold.

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ Sam replied. ‘Although, since I’m a massive Star Wars fan, I wouldn’t have blamed you for blowing me out for him!’

  ‘I never had you for a sci-fi geek,’ Florence said as she followed him through to the kitchen, which was lit only by the downlights under the units and a rose-coloured candle in the centre of the dining table.

  ‘Are you kidding? I was brought up on the first six films, and Aidan and I have made a date every time a new one comes out.’ He turned back and grinned at her. ‘I always fancied being a pilot like Han Solo, and even as a grown-up I idolise Poe Dameron!’

  ‘It’s Princess Leia all the way for me,’ said Florence. ‘Although I’m rather partial to the love story between Rey and Ben, too.’

  ‘Oh, you’re one of those, are you? A shipper?’

  Florence laughed. ‘Only in a really cool, non-geeky way, you understand.’ She’d never admit to Sam the hours she spent reading Star Wars fan fiction online after the new films had come out, or the evening may well have ended there and then.

  ‘Of course!’ Sam gestured to the table. ‘Have a seat if you like. Can I get you a drink? There’s white wine in the fridge, or I’ve got red, or cider if you want.’

  ‘A glass of white wine would be lovely,’ Florence replied. She needed one to calm her nerves, which was daft since she and Sam had been far more intimate than this after the play. In a certain part of her mind, though, it almost felt as though the two of them had still been acting when they’d fallen into bed last weekend. Perhaps it really had been Beatrice and Benedick acting out their desires and not she and Sam? She felt another flutter of nerves before she took the glass that Sam was holding out, and thanked him.

  As they made small talk about their respective days, whether it was due to the wine or the company, Florence gradually relaxed. Sam had always been easy to talk to, despite his reticence about his personal life, and even though he had a habit of deflecting things about himself and asking her lots of questions, she did sense that gradually, he was relaxing too.

  ‘Are you hungry? I can sort out the starter if you like.’ Sam put his glass down on the kitchen table and enquired, his deep blue eyes taking on a shining hue in the candlelight.

  ‘I am,’ Florence replied, slightly surprised. ‘Actually, I really am. Lunch is always somewhat of a rush during the school day, and even though I never want to see another packet of Haribo or box of Celebrations ever again, I actually do feel hungry now!’

  ‘Glad to hear it!’ Sam sprang up from his seat, nearly knocking it over in the process. As he reached out a hand to steady the back of it, Florence realised that he must have been feeling as nervous as she was.

  Without pausing too much to think, she stood from her own chair and crossed the kitchen to stand next to him. ‘It’s all right, you know,’ she said softly. ‘I came here tonight because I wanted to.’ She drew a little closer to him and, as she did so, his left arm slid around her, pulling her even closer. ‘What happened after the play was really fast. We can take our time now.’

  Sam smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he did so. Florence reached up with her right hand to stroke the creases, and then slid a hand back through his tousled dark blond hair.

  ‘We’ve got all night,’ she whispered. ‘There’s no rush.’

  In response, Sam dropped his head and kissed her, slowly at first and then with a deepening intensity. He tasted of the white wine they’d both been drinking, and the warmth and sweetness of his mouth made Florence’s senses reel. She pressed closer to him, feeling the contours of his body moulding into hers, and a warmth of arousal spread through her, wrapping them both up in a sensation of heady emotions.

  ‘I thought you said we had all night,’ Sam murmured, breaking away briefly to smile at her again. ‘And that you were hungry.’

  ‘I did,’ Florence replied. ‘And I am. But you just do something to me. Especially when you wear such gorgeous jumpers.’

  Sam grimaced. ‘Aidan refers to them as my “on the pull” jumpers! Although Mum actually bought the two of them for me a few Christmases ago, I only ever seem to wear them, he reckons, when I want to impress someone.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Florence raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘And does it work?’

  Sam laughed. ‘Not until you! Although don’t tell him I admitted to that.’

  ‘You were wearing the grey one when you popped into the auditions for the play,’ Florence said. ‘Were you, er, on the pull, then?’

  Looking a tad sheepish, Sam turned away and went to the fridge. ‘Not exactly, although I was pretty glad I had put it on when I saw you were involved with the play.’

  ‘Smoothie!’ Florence teased. She was impressed when Sam brought the Camembert out from the fridge, noting that he’d obviously toasted the breadcrumbs himself. ‘Is that our starter?’

  ‘Yup. Is that OK?’ Sam asked as he placed it down by the deep-fat fryer, which was now ticking away in the corner of the w
orktop.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Florence replied. ‘I love cheese – the smellier the better!’

  ‘Well, this one should whet your appetite,’ Sam replied. ‘Have a seat, and a top-up of wine if you like. It’ll only take a couple of minutes to sort out.’

  Florence did as he directed, topping up her glass and Sam’s with a generous slug of white wine

  ‘So you said in your note that you’ve got the house to yourself,’ she said between sips. ‘Where’s Aidan tonight?’

  ‘Gone to Mum’s in Cambridge,’ Sam replied. ‘I only got off shift at seven a.m., so I said I’d drive up and join him tomorrow for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and then bring us both back on Boxing Day. I’m working on Boxing Day afternoon, so we can’t really stay any longer than that.’

  Florence had been in the classroom long enough to know when someone was being a little reticent with details. Although she found Sam quite tricky to read, she was beginning to work out when he wasn’t being overly forthcoming. This was one of those occasions.

  ‘Do you both, er, get on well with your mum?’ she asked.

  Sam looked back over his shoulder and gave her a rueful smile. ‘She’s changed a lot since Dad died,’ he said. ‘She lost him to lung cancer so suddenly, and it was relatively soon after Aidan ended up being injured as well, so she’s really struggled to come to terms with it all. She can’t quite get her head around the fact that, while he looks and sounds OK, the worst injuries are the ones that can’t be seen.’ He sighed. ‘She tries really hard to be accommodating, but in the end, they just frustrate each other. I’m trying not to worry about leaving them alone for twenty-four hours, but it couldn’t be helped.’

  ‘Do you visit her often?’ Florence asked.

  ‘Generally only during the holiday periods now,’ Sam admitted. ‘Our sister Kate lives a mile away from Mum and sees her most days, which lets us off the hook, I suppose, and Kate’s got three children, which takes Mum’s mind off Dad and worrying about Aidan, so she’s well looked after, really.’