Notting Hill in the Snow

by Jules Wake

‘Yes, I’m doing the nativity this year but I’m also picking Grace up after school this week.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked a little puzzled. ‘How does that work? Are you a friend of Mr Williams as well?’ I heard the woman in the Cossack hat give a small snort which, thankfully, the teacher ignored. ‘He sent a note saying someone new would be picking up. Is this a permanent arrangement?’

  ‘Erm …’ I blushed as I realised Cassie’s mum was listening avidly. I knew exactly what she was getting at.

  Grace’s hand slipped into mine and she squeezed it, a little signal of solidarity. I glanced down at her and she grinned at me.

  ‘I’m Grace’s friend. I’m just helping out for the time being.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the teacher, clearly a little put out that she was being denied any confirmation of the gossip she was so clearly keen to capitalise on. ‘Right, well, there’s some homework in the book bag and you should be getting an email about costumes tonight.’ She broke off and, with a stilted laugh, added, ‘But you probably know all about that.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ready to leave. It was getting chilly and the playground had emptied, although that was no bad thing. Cassie’s mum had melted away.

  ‘And how is the nativity coming along? We’re all very excited to see what you do. You’ve got a tough act to follow after last year but then –’ she shrugged ‘– I guess you’re a professional; this is all second nature to you. I’m sure you’ve got something amazing up your sleeve.’

  Oh, dear God, if only she knew. After that little encounter with the rabidly curious mum I was feeling even more out of my depth.

  ‘I was good today. I got a house point.’

  ‘Did you? What was that for?’

  ‘Eating all my lunch.’

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘It wasn’t as nice as your s’ghetti. That’s the best meal I’ve ever had.’

  I laughed. ‘Wow. You need to get out more.’

  ‘Can we have it again?’

  ‘Not tonight. I thought I’d make you some special chicken.’ It was a favourite with Bella’s kids when I looked after them. Chicken and broccoli stir fry with a few secret ingredients of my own.

  ‘We’ll pop to the shop on the way home. You can help me cook it if you like.’

  ‘Really?’ Her eyes shone. ‘Will you make it for Daddy too?’

  ‘Yes. It’s silly not to. And it’s always nicer eating with someone else instead of by yourself, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with delightful round-eyed childish enthusiasm, before adding with a considering expression, ‘And will you have some, like you did last night?’

  ‘I … I don’t think so. I need to go to work.’

  ‘But you have to eat,’ she said, sounding remarkably like her father had done the night before.

  ‘Come on, I’m getting cold. I think it might snow this week.’ They were forecasting heavy snowfall in the north and midlands of England; there was some talk of it working its way further south.

  ‘Did you know …’ Grace began.

  I looked down at her; she was clearly after my full attention.

  ‘That the Egyptians took their cats with them when they were dead? In bandages in case they got poorly in the afterlife.’

  ‘Did they?’

  ‘Yes, and they called them mummies, even though they were catties. And …’ she paused ‘… there weren’t any daddies.’

  I laughed. ‘That’s a good thought. I wonder why not.’

  ‘And Tutankhamun wore a big necklace. Blue and gold and he had a gold face when Howard Carter found him.’

  As we walked home, diverting briefly to the Tesco Metro, Grace skipped alongside me, telling me in minute detail everything she’d done that day.

  ‘I’m worn out just listening to what a busy day you’ve had,’ I said as we climbed the steps to the front door of the house.

  ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘Do you think it will snow?’ she asked, looking up at the dull grey sky.

  ‘Who knows? We’ll have to watch the weatherman and see what he says.’

  ‘Do you want to come and see my bedroom?’ asked Grace, her eyes bright with anticipation, unzipping her coat and letting her scarf drop to the floor. ‘I’ve got fairy lights and a special princess bed.’ She darted towards the stairs, glancing back at me over her shoulder, waiting impatiently for me to follow.

  ‘Shouldn’t you take your shoes off first?’ I eyed the expensive-looking stair carpet and the white boards, sure that there was a no-shoes rule in this immaculate showroom house.

  Grace’s face fell, her expression suddenly shuttered. Obediently, she ducked to her knees where she stood, took her shoes off and padded in her grey tights to the white panelled wall under the stairs. When she pushed, it sprang open to reveal a concealed cupboard ruthlessly organised with shoe racks, shelves and coat hooks. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place. Without looking at me, Grace paired up her shoes and neatly placed them on one of the racks before taking off her coat and asking in a small, polite voice, ‘Please could you hang this up for me? I can’t reach.’

  I felt as if I’d kicked a puppy as I hung it next to an elegant pale blue wool coat. Elaine’s, I guessed. It was the sort of thing the cool blonde I’d imagined with Nate that very first day I’d met him would wear. For some reason it was disappointing that I’d got it right.

  On the shoe rack there were a pair of beige high heeled court shoes, some pale green snow boots that didn’t look as if they’d ever been on a ski trip, some Nike trainers and flowery ankle wellies that looked hopelessly impractical for anything.

  There were more of Elaine’s things on the shelves – a couple of handbags, some scarves and gloves and a leather laptop bag, which could have been hers or Nate’s. It was strangely disconcerting, as if her absence was temporary and she’d marked her territory.

  ‘Gosh, this is all very neat and tidy,’ I said. ‘My house is a bit messy. I don’t have a cupboard like this.’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  I shook my head and ducked down to whisper in her ear, ‘And this cupboard is bigger than my whole wardrobe. It’s nearly as big as my bathroom.’ I poked my head around the corner. ‘Is there a bath in here?’

  Grace giggled. ‘No, silly. It’s upstairs.’

  ‘Phew. Now, are you going to show me your super-duper bedroom?’

  The dark evening was starting to close in as we went up the stairs.

  ‘Look,’ Grace said as she darted into her dark bedroom, ‘I have fairy lights.’ She switched them on and they cast a warm glow around her bed. It took me a minute for my eyes to adjust. It was only when she switched on the main light that I could see the pale pink walls and the white cast iron day bed with its white net canopy over the top. Her bedroom was everything a little girl’s princess palace should be.

  ‘This is very pretty. Shall we close the curtains?’

  I pulled the pink curtains closed, shutting out the night. They were covered in fairies and flower blossoms. I smiled, remembering Grace’s bossy innkeeper’s wife performance. She wasn’t a fairy and blossoms character.

  Over on the right, taking up most of the wall, was a lovely wooden book shelf and I bent to study the books. There were complete box sets of Enid Blyton, Harry Potter, endless Rainbow Fairy books and at the very end a solitary, slightly dog-eared Beast Quest book. I recognised it because Rosa, Bella’s middle child, was obsessed with them. It was the only book that looked as if it had been read.

  The whole room looked showroom perfect, almost as if Grace never set foot in here. There wasn’t a toy out of place, every book was in series order and not a stray sock or pair of pants on the floor.

  ‘You’ve got lots of books. I love Harry Potter. Have you read any of them?’ I asked.

  She shrugged and turned her back on me.

  ‘What do you like reading? Rainbow Fairies?’

  She shrugged again.

  ‘This?’ I pulled the Beast Quest book
out.

  She peeped up at me from under her lashes and nodded.

  ‘My niece, Rosa, has lots of them. Would you like me to see if I can borrow a few?’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘Yes, please. There are some in the school library. I borrow those but I always take them back. You can tell her that I’d give them back.’

  ‘Want to read this one to me?’

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘Yes, but let’s go downstairs to the kitchen. It’s a bit … warmer down there.’ And far more homely. I wanted to mess this room up, pull a few books from the shelves, rumple the bed and scatter colouring pencils on the floor.

  ‘Do you want to see Daddy’s room?’

  Before I could say no, she’d opened the door and switched on the light. To my surprise, it was far more subdued than I was expecting. No sign of Elaine’s signature showroom design in here. Everything was plain and simple and even a touch untidy. An open book by the bedside table along with a handful of receipts and business cards and a shirt tossed on the armchair by the window.

  ‘Very nice,’ I said, stepping back quickly. The last thing I wanted to imagine was Nate Williams sleeping in that big oak bed or hanging his smart suits and crisp cotton shirts in the matching wardrobe and I certainly didn’t want to picture him in nothing but a towel emerging from the en suite bathroom.

  Chapter 14

  ‘Shall we have some music on?’ I asked as I piled the ingredients on the chopping board, my heart still a little sore. This big house was far too quiet and staid for a little girl. As one of my friends would say, it needed a bit of a tickle. Actually, she said that about miserable people but I felt in this case it was applicable to this home: very beautiful but stark and cold. I looked around for a radio and spotted a leaf-green Roberts radio high up on a shelf, the colour co-ordinating perfectly with the kitchen.

  Standing on a chair, I pulled it down and wiped off a layer of dust and patted it. Poor neglected thing. Had anyone ever realised it had a practical use?

  Soon we were dancing away to Radio 2 while we chopped broccoli and dusted the chicken in Chinese Five-spice and cornflower.

  ‘Is this the right size?’ asked Grace, pointing with her knife at a small tree of broccoli, humming along to Mel Smith and Kim Wilde’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.

  ‘Perfect, but it doesn’t really matter, because it all goes in together. If you can make them a similar size to that then it’s a bit better because it all cooks at the same time, but no one’s going to complain.’ I put on a mock stern face. ‘Or they can cook their own tea.’

  Grace giggled and went back to her careful chopping. Despite my words, she still measured each piece against each other.

  ‘Can we have that song again?’ she asked, still humming the tune.

  ‘The radio doesn’t work like that but I can find it on my phone on YouTube,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, please.’ She watched avidly as I fiddled with my phone and then found the video. As I started it, she began to sway from side to side, while insisting that the radio stayed on as well in case we missed anything that might be good, singing along before she watched it another three times while I chopped the chicken and soaked the rice.

  I watched her happily warbling away, her face relaxed.

  When we laid the table, I decided to move it. At the moment it was in a dark corner under a pedestal light, which was fine for dinner parties, although there was a very formal dining room upstairs, but it was cheerless, so I pulled all the chairs out and, with Grace’s help – well, she thought she was helping – I shunted it across the room, turning it the other way so that it was now parallel to the kitchen area and encompassed by the bright glow of the lights. I also covered the chilly glass top with a wipe-clean tablecloth covered in brightly covered chickens which I’d found at the bottom of the drawer, the same one that the Cath Kidston apron had come from. There were quite a few other unlikely items in there, along with some matching napkins and some quite ugly table mats. Because I felt sorry for them and had a sneaking suspicion this was Elaine’s drawer of unwanted Christmas gifts, I put them out.

  Today I didn’t care what Nate would think. I wasn’t nesting or trying to impress him with my domestic skills; I was trying to create a more homely environment for Grace.

  Ugly table mats aside, it all looked a lot cosier in here.

  ‘Don’t be so grumpy,’ Grace scolded, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head with pretty convincing exasperation. ‘These poor people need somewhere to stay.’

  ‘Well, there’s no room,’ I said in a deep voice, which made her falter for a second and she almost laughed before she was back in character.

  With dinner ready to reheat as soon as Nate came home, we’d moved into the little snug just to the left of the kitchen to practice Grace’s lines for the play. The sofa was now the wall of the hallway of the innkeepers’ house.

  ‘What about the stable?’ she demanded, her long-suffering tone underlining the unspoken words, you silly man, perfectly.

  ‘The stable?’ I said in a passable King Henry VIII sort of voice, pretending to pat a big, round belly. I’d already decided I’d pad George out at the front and make him into a little rotund innkeeper, if he ever returned from flipping Disneyland Paris. He’d been absent for the last two days. ‘But it’s full of cows and oxen and sheep and dolphins.’

  ‘Mr Innkeeper, we don’t have dolphins in the stable.’ Her long-suffering rebuke was spot on.

  ‘We don’t?’

  Grace shook her head and stuck her nose up in the air with a perfectly superior tilt.

  ‘Oh,’ I replied in suitably chastened innkeeper tones.

  Turning to an imaginary Joseph and Mary, Grace said, ‘There’s a stable out the back. It’s not much but it has a roof and a door and, with the straw, it will be nice and cosy.’

  ‘Well, you two look like you’re having fun.’

  ‘Daddy!’ yelled Grace, the bossy innkeeper’s wife vanishing in a flash as she ran across the room and hurled herself at him. ‘We’re rehearsling for the play.’

  ‘Rehearsling?’ Nate caught my eye and we both bit back our smiles as Grace chattered on.

  ‘And Viola says I’m really good. I need a costume, though. We can use an old sheet and cut a hole in the top and put a belt round. The three kings need old curtains for their cloaks.’

  Nate nodded but, before he could say anything, she was off again.

  ‘And we cooked tea. And listened to music – Christmas songs. Do you know Christmas songs, Daddy?’

  With a happy twirl, she launched into a loud and almost tuneful rendition of a few lines of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, which she then repeated three times because they were the only ones she knew.

  ‘I know that one,’ he said, laughing. ‘Well, I do now.’

  ‘And I watched the video on Viola’s phone. They had a Christmas tree. When are we going to get a tree, Daddy?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Nate looked uncomfortable. ‘Isn’t it a bit early?’

  Grace and I looked at each other with unified horror.

  ‘It’s never too early,’ I said with exaggerated indignation. The decorations in the local shops were already starting to go up and this weekend, the second in December, would be the start of many of them gearing up for Christmas. There’d been mince pies in Marks for weeks now, although I’d yet to succumb. I preferred to make my own. ‘Or for the first mince pie.’

  Our eyes met in sudden remembrance.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Nate, ‘I agree with you there. I do love a mince pie. Warm from the oven.’ Was he thinking of the first day we’d met? That flirty frisson between us?

  ‘Talking of food, something smells good.’

  ‘I made it,’ said Grace, taking his hand and dragging him over to the hob.

  ‘Really?’ Over her head, Nate raised an eyebrow at me.

  ‘I did all the broccoli.’

  ‘Well, it looks delicious and I’m hungry. We’d better eat now s
o that Viola can get to work on time.’ He shot me a quick grin as Grace ran to sit down at the table. ‘Can I give you a hand?’ Then he looked back at the table, raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. I lifted my chin. He could always move it back if he didn’t like it.

  ‘Could you grab some plates? Bowls preferably, and I’ll dish up.’

  He loomed over my shoulder and looked at the contents of the wok. ‘That does look good and, unless the broccoli fairy does deliveries, you’ve been shopping. I must give you some money; you can’t keep buying food for us.’

  ‘I am eating some of it,’ I said as I ladled out a spoonful of rice.

  ‘Not that much and it still doesn’t seem right. You looking after my daughter and buying the food.’

  ‘Daddy, shall I get a candle from upstairs? Make it look like proper dinner.’ Grace had already bounced up from her seat and was halfway across the basement room.

  ‘Yes, if you want.’ He watched her go with a smile on his lips. ‘She’s full of beans tonight. Thank you. And I do need to give you some money.’

  ‘It’s fine. We can sort it out later. If I was doing it for any longer, I’d suggest an online shop.’

  As I carried on serving, I realised that Nate had gone quite still, his face guarded. He slid a quick look towards the doorway leading upstairs. Poor Grace; she’d been dealt a rubbish hand. I felt for her.

  ‘Actually, if it helps I could … I could pick Grace up next week as well.’ I said it in a hurry, blurting it out suddenly before I had time to think that perhaps I was being a bit presumptuous in assuming that I could take care of Grace and see to her needs better than someone else. But it wouldn’t be a hardship. I enjoyed her company and I knew a little too well what it was like for her.

  Nate was silent for a minute, staring at me.

  ‘That’s … very generous of you. I … I feel I ought to say no, it feels like I’m exploiting you but … she likes you and you have a rapport with her.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been racking my brains, trying to think what’s the best thing to do. I’ve been onto every nanny agency and I’m struggling to find anyone this close to Christmas. The following week I can probably work from home a couple of days but at the moment it’s manic, everyone wanting everything done before the holidays.’