Notting Hill in the Snow

by Jules Wake

  ‘You believe me?’

  ‘Of course I believe you. Viola, you’re the kindest-hearted person I’ve ever met. You do things for other people all the time. If Paul had been in bed with flu and your mother had needed you, you would have found a way to do both. I’ve seen the way you try to please all of the people all of the time and it’s amazing how you manage to find a compromise to suit everyone.’ He put an arm across my shoulders, pulling me into him. ‘You’re a good person.’

  ‘It hurt, though, that he went back to his ex. As if I’d been temporary accommodation, lodgings for his emotions. A place to keep them in storage until the property he really wanted to invest in became available.’

  And now I knew what I was really upset about. What would happen if Elaine ever came back?

  Chapter 25

  ‘Viola! Viola, you came!’ Grace came running out of the classroom and threw herself at me with such enthusiasm I almost fell over.

  I still felt slightly jittery after my emotional roller coaster lunch with Nate, so her whole-hearted delight made me even more wobbly.

  ‘Of course I came,’ I said with a huge smile on my face, feeling tearful again as she wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her head in my middle. Looking down, I could see she was wearing the slightly tatty snow boots again.

  She hung on, squeezing me over and over.

  ‘Hey, it’s OK. I’m here.’

  She looked up at me, her eyes shining with tears and her lip quivering. ‘I was mean to you. I didn’t think you’d come.’

  ‘Of course I’ve come. I wouldn’t let you down. I’ll never let you down.’ I crouched down and looked her in the eyes. ‘We all say things that sometimes we don’t mean. And you said sorry yesterday. It was all sorted out. Come on, it’s cold, let’s go home.’ I took her hand and her book bag.

  ‘But you have a nimportant job. You have to go to work. Tomorrow you can’t pick me up.’

  ‘That’s right, tomorrow I have a rehearsal and then a performance in the evening. But Daddy’s going to work from home so he can pick you up. But I’ll be here the day after.’

  ‘Yes, but I was really mean and I thought you might not come back because I’d been bad,’ she said, falling into step beside me as we joined the last of the stragglers leaving the cold, damp playground. The snow scuffed up in most places had turned grey and the edges were covered in slush, while the school playing field was a messy patchwork of green and white with a brown scar on the small hill down to the fence where children had tried to carry on sledging even after the snow had melted.

  ‘I said bad things.’

  ‘You were upset and that’s fine. But you need to talk to Daddy about these things as well. You need to tell him how you feel.’

  ‘But he’ll be mad at me when he knows what I said.’ Her eyes grew rounder. ‘My teacher says that hate is a very strong word and you shouldn’t use it. And I said it to you and I didn’t meant it because … I love you.’ My heart flipped as I looked down into her guileless blue eyes. ‘I’m sorry. And I’m glad that you’re Daddy’s friend and I … don’t mind if you’re his … his friend,’ she finished awkwardly and began to skip beside me as if the conversation was over and done with.

  ‘I got lots of Christmas cards today,’ she announced a couple of minutes later.

  ‘That’s nice. Are they from your friends?’ I remembered seeing the big red postbox just outside the hall at school the day before.

  ‘Yes. I got one with a robin on it from Ellie. One with a snowman from Aidan. One with … Do you think our snowman is still there?’

  ‘I’m sure he will be. Shall we go and visit him quickly when we get home?’ I was thinking perhaps we ought to retrieve the hat and scarf we’d left out there.

  Conversation bounced around in this fashion until we reached the warmth of the house and we were peeling off all our layers in the hallway.

  ‘Is your job really, really nimportant?’ asked Grace, levering one boot from her foot and I could tell from the way she paused and waited for my answer that whatever I said held considerable significance.

  I gave it careful thought, trying to figure out what the subtext to her question was; I had a strong inkling.

  ‘It’s important to me, yes, because I worked very hard, learning to play my viola so that I could get it. When I go to work, people are expecting me to be there, so I can’t let them down: the people I work with and the audience that comes to see the opera or the ballet that I’m playing the music for. Everyone in the theatre can see where I sit because I sit right at the very front, just below the stage.’

  ‘Like the front row?’

  ‘Even closer than that.’ I widened my eyes, teasing her as she scrunched her nose in a disbelieving frown.

  I suddenly realised that she might not really understand what I did. ‘Come on –’ I shoved our coats and boots haphazardly in the cupboard and took her hand ‘– let me show you. You get the iPad, while I make us a hot drink.’

  Pouring the milk into a pan and firing up the gas, I turned to find that Grace had switched on the iPad and was sitting on the bar stool swinging her legs. Leaving the pan to boil, I clicked onto YouTube and typed in a quick search.

  ‘Here you go, this is the pit at the front of the theatre.’ I’d found a clip put up by the Opera House, a promotional behind-the-scenes piece which had been made last year. ‘That’s the strings section. You can just see me – look there.’

  She craned her neck and I enlarged the picture. ‘That’s where I sit. I share a desk with my friend Becky.’

  ‘A desk? I can’t see a desk.’

  I laughed, realising that to a layman there were so many terms and traditions that I took for granted. ‘That’s just an orchestra term. We sit together and share the music.’ I thought I’d probably get myself into trouble if I attempted to explain the hierarchy of the strings with its first and second violins, principal players and inside and outside players. I realised I was in danger of straying from the point I so desperately wanted to make.

  ‘So when the theatre is full of people, in these seats –’ I pointed to the plush red velvet seats ‘– they can see the orchestra playing. And that’s my job to be there. People would notice if I wasn’t. So it is important like that but –’ I turned to her ‘– the thing is, Grace, when I play at the theatre, I always know when I’m going to play. It doesn’t change. It’s not like some jobs, where you get held up or have to do something different.’

  She nodded, her face intent. ‘So if I say I’m going to pick you up, I will pick you up. But if I’m working I’ll know before, so I’ll tell you I can’t pick you up. Like tomorrow. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Yes. And the people –’ she pointed to the seats ‘– they can see you.’

  ‘Yes, although they’ve come to see the opera or the ballet as well as listen to the music. So I think my job is important, because those people really want to see the opera or the ballet because they love it and I can’t let those people down.’ She nodded again.

  I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. ‘But it means that I won’t let you down because I always know when I’m going to work and how long I will be there.’

  She didn’t say anything for a minute so I stood up to grab the pan of milk before it boiled over but I could see that she was processing the information. I was just pouring it into her Elsa mug when she asked, ‘What if someone broke their leg? Would you be running late then?’

  I blinked at her. Interesting question. ‘I’m not sure anyone has ever broken a leg while I’ve been playing. But –’ I gave it some thought ‘– I think we’d stop, get them off the stage, the understudy, that’s another actor who can play their part or a dancer, would come on and then the show would carry on. So it might be held up for a little while but it’s extremely unlikely.’ And then there were the music union rules that didn’t allow us to play for any longer than the agreed times. We had a maximum working day of seven hours and anything over that
triggered overtime. I wasn’t sure that Grace would really understand management being keen to avoid paying overtime at all costs. They were always desperate for us to finish on time. The minute the conductor takes his bow, that’s the signal for us being off the clock.

  ‘And what if the tube trains aren’t working when you’re at work?’

  ‘You’d be in bed and fast asleep,’ I said, tweaking her nose. ‘Now, what shall we make for tea tonight?’ After my big lunch I wasn’t that hungry and I was a little embarrassed about seeing Nate after my meltdown, now I’d had chance to calm myself and go back over everything I’d said.

  I was reading yesterday’s Metro and just finishing my drink when I realised that it had gone very quiet. Grace had said something about going up to her bedroom to get something.

  Still worrying about her, I went upstairs just in time to hear a crash coming from Nate’s study.

  A panic-stricken Grace was standing on a chair — oh, my God — precariously balanced on top of a footstool, stretching up on her tiptoes, reaching up to the top of the built-in cupboard, desperately holding up a haphazard pile of boxes about to cascade down on her head, like a hopeless mini Canute trying to hold back the tide. There were already a couple of boxes spilling their stationery contents across the floor.

  The chair was wobbling and she looked anxiously over her shoulder at me.

  I ran over and snatched her into my arms, stepping back out of the path of the avalanche of boxes as the chair fell off the stool. Bish, bash, bosh, the boxes tumbled to the ground, bouncing open and spilling out cards and envelopes, curls of ribbon, gift tags and Sellotape.

  ‘Whoops,’ I said, looking at the mess, my heart thudding furiously. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Mmm,’ she whimpered, but I could hear her little pants of fright. I gave her a hug and gently set her down. ‘What were you doing?’ I asked, kneeling on the floor and starting to gather up the bits and pieces that had slid across the cream carpet.

  ‘I was looking for Christmas cards. This is where Mummy keeps them.’ She sighed. ‘I’m the only one in the class who hasn’t sent any.’ Poor kid, another ball dropped, but at least I could help with this one. I felt like I was some kind of Caped Crusader coming to the rescue, which was kind of nice but at the same time I felt I wasn’t doing a good enough job. Grace needed someone proper looking after her, who would pick all this stuff up. I really hoped that Nate found a new nanny soon.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, picking up one of the extremely expensive-looking cards that had slithered from its box. With gilt foiled lettering on very thick cardboard, I was pretty sure that sending these to every one of Grace’s classmates was not what her mother had had in mind. These were so not suitable, especially when I opened one up to find that it had been pre-printed with the rather impersonal message, Season’s Greetings from Elaine, Nathan and Grace Williams.

  ‘Why don’t you make some?’ I suggested. All of my cousins’ kids had art boxes with creative bits and bobs in them. ‘Don’t you have some art things? Some stickers or some coloured paper? You could design your own.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Grace, making a move towards the door.

  ‘But not until you’ve helped me tidy up this lot. And next time ask for help. You could have hurt yourself … and you nearly gave me a heart attack.’ I imitated her wobbling about.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No worries. No harm done.’

  We tidied up – well, shoved everything back in boxes – as I wondered if Nate had done anything about Christmas cards; these ones were definitely redundant, which reminded me I still needed to do something with the picture of Grace and Nate and the snowman.

  By the time Nate came home, Grace had dragged out a very well stocked art box, which had been enthusiastically filled by Svetlana; apparently she liked drawing and watching Neighbours, and we had our own little production line going with me folding and cutting card and then drawing two perfect circles, one small and one large, for snowmen, with Grace adding different hats and accessories, spangling them up with liberal sprinklings of glitter glue to make Williams’ copyrighted Christmas cards.

  ‘Hi ladies – how are my favourite girls?’ Nate asked as Grace clung like a monkey to his neck, covering him in glitter.

  ‘Look at my cards,’ she said. ‘I’m going to put them in the postbox tomorrow.’

  ‘They look very … sparkly,’ said Nate. ‘And so do you.’ He kissed her cheek and she giggled. ‘You’ve got sparkles on your lips, Daddy.’

  ‘All the better to kiss you with,’ he teased and started to pepper her face with kisses, making her squirm and giggle.

  ‘Do it to Viola,’ she squealed, ducking away and grabbing me and trying to jump ship into my arms. Suddenly his arm was around both of us and he was alternating between kissing her and me, with Grace giggling away.

  ‘Stop, stop,’ I cried, breathless with laughter. ‘I need to get ready to go to work and I can’t go all covered in glitter. Everyone will see me sparkling in the pit.’

  Grace’s face looked horrified. ‘It will wash off, Viola.’ She turned to Nate to advise him with great solemnity, ‘Viola sits at the front. Everyone will see her and she’s nimportant.’

  Reluctant to leave the circle, I pulled away, my heart a little tender at the look in Nate’s eye. This felt like being part of a family.

  That golden glow lasted all through the evening’s performance and a couple of people commented on the stray bits of glitter that had managed to adhere to my skin and hair. My heart was light as I let myself into the house later that night, imagining Grace tucked up in bed and hoping that Nate might still be up.

  As I slipped through the door, the soft light of the lamps in the lounge were like a beacon guiding me home and I found Nate reading a book, his legs stretched out on the sofa.

  ‘You’re still up,’ I whispered, taking off my coat and draping it over the nearest armchair.

  ‘I don’t like to think of you coming in on your own. I like to know you’re safe.’ He nodded to a bottle of red wine on the coffee table in front of him. ‘I saved you a glass.’ Shifting his legs off the sofa, he patted the cushion next to him. ‘Come tell me about your day.’

  I smiled and crossed the lounge, admiring the picture he made, looking relaxed and indolent with his open-necked shirt and the book still in his hand. ‘I think you heard plenty. Thank you for listening and I’m sorry I got a bit emotional.’

  ‘Don’t you dare apologise.’ He put the book face down on the arm of the sofa.

  ‘I was worried you’d think I was a bit of a lunatic.’

  ‘Not at all. I can’t believe that people can behave like that. All it did was make me think even more of you.’ He poured me a glass, which I took and sat down next to him.

  ‘You’re cold; I can feel the chill coming from you.’ He touched my cheek, his warm hand almost burning. ‘I don’t like you walking from the tube station on your own, but thank you for texting when you leave the station.’

  ‘It’s getting icy out there. Frost on the cars already and the slush freezing.’

  ‘It’s warm in here.’ Nate slipped an arm round me to highlight the point, pulling me against him and, with a this-feels-like-home sigh, I leaned in. ‘So how were things after school today? Grace seemed much happier tonight. Did you say something to her?’

  ‘No, she … bless her, she was still fretting about upsetting me and being bad.’ Her anxiety about being bad still worried me. ‘And she was really anxious about not being picked up, that I wouldn’t turn up, almost as if that was what she deserved. So I explained about my job and that when I was at work I had to be there but that I always knew my schedule. I think it reassured her but … Any news on the nanny front?’

  ‘Wrong time of year, apparently.’ He rolled his neck as if trying to ease the tension. ‘But I can get a temporary nanny to start in January for a month, which isn’t ideal but I’m not sure what else to do. The local childminders are all full and so is the after-sc
hool club. I can’t thank you enough for stepping in these couple of weeks. I don’t know what I’d have done. But I’ve fixed it so that next week, the last week of term, I’ll wind down and just do a few hours from home each day.’

  ‘The term is finishing really late this year. And Christmas is only three days later,’ I observed.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Just wondering when you’re going to get all your Christmas shopping done.’ I hadn’t seen much in the way of preparation. ‘Once Grace is finished at school, what will you do? I’m going this week’ I added smugly.

  As I was in rehearsal from eleven every day this week, I’d planned to go into the West End first thing one morning, blitz my shopping and then go to work.

  ‘Fuck,’ he whispered. ‘Oh, for—’

  ‘Don’t say it.’ I put a finger on his lips.

  ‘I … Elaine always did all that and I … I thought I’d got ages.’

  ‘What happened to the letter she wrote to Santa?’ At his blank face, I groaned quietly. ‘Nate, you’re rubbish. Please tell me you haven’t lost it.’

  ‘No, I think it must still be in my coat pocket.’

  ‘If you give it to me I can have a look and do some shopping. I was going to do her a little stocking from me.’

  ‘That’s really kind of you.’

  I lifted my shoulders. ‘I want to … and I know what to put in it.’

  ‘Come on, I’m a bloke.’ My reproving glare brought a mischievous grin. ‘But I know that she’d like an Elsa dress, an ice cream maker, some high heels and some purple jeans. And to appear on Strictly, which ain’t going to happen any time soon.’

  ‘OK –’ I grinned back at him; he was looking so pleased with himself ‘– I’m impressed. You do know your daughter.’

  ‘That and the fact that on Saturday night during Strictly she told me what she wanted because she wasn’t sure that I’d have passed her letter on to Father Christmas and it was always good to have a backup plan, her words.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘I’ll be near the Disney store this week. I could probably get the Elsa dress for you and, if you want me to, look for some purple jeans.’