The Next Forever

by Alix Kelso

Chrissie took another sip and watched Keith swirl his glass. She’d never felt this close to anyone. Not even Steven had made her feel this way.

  “I want to tell you what happened,” Chrissie found herself saying. “With Alison’s father.”

  Keith turned, his slate-blue eyes focused on her. “Okay.”

  “I know you’re curious. It isn’t something I ever talk about, but for some reason I want to talk about it with you.”

  He gazed at her, waiting. “You shouldn’t feel under pressure to tell me.”

  “I don’t. But I like what’s happening between us. And because I like it, I want you to know. Maybe it’ll help you understand a little better who I am.”

  Chrissie drank more whisky, feeling the delicious burn and the spicy heat in her throat and taking courage from both.

  “We were supposed to get married. But on our wedding day, Steven never turned up.”

  Keith’s eyes widened and he stared, his gaze searching her face. “Chrissie, that’s terrible.”

  “It’s not a complicated story,” Chrissie began. “I was twenty-five when I met him. We were both chefs, working in different restaurants but moving in similar circles. He was wild and exciting and seven years older than me and he just swept me away. My father had died six months before we met and I suppose I was still grieving and looking for something to take away the ache. I was lonely and sad and didn’t know what to do about it. And then I met Steven.”

  Chrissie paused to sip some whisky as the rain grew heavier against the darkened windows. Keith laid a hand on her leg and the gesture almost brought tears to her eyes.

  “He was one of those people who’re always at the centre of everything – the heart of the party, the joker, the crazy one. I fell for him because he made me feel better about myself. We’d only been together a couple of months when he asked me to marry him. I assumed he was joking, that it was just one of those crazy things he suggested, knowing I’d never actually do it. But when I laughed, he said he meant it. He wanted us to get married and he didn’t want to wait. He wasn’t on speaking terms with his family, he said, and so there wouldn’t be much of a guest list from his side. And so we could keep it nice and simple, maybe just my mother and a few close friends. Before I knew it, I’d agreed to marry him, and in the same conversation we were already planning the ceremony. It was like being caught up in some kind of crazy magic.”

  “Did you want to marry him?” Keith asked.

  “Oh yes. I was head over heels in love and the idea that he wanted to be with me for the rest of our lives was intoxicating. My mother flipped out.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Chrissie laughed. “Once she realised I was serious about it, she was there for me and supported me, although she wasn’t exactly ecstatic about it. Anyway, on our wedding day, I arrived at the church for the ceremony, only to be told that the groom hadn’t yet turned up. I stood waiting in my wedding dress in this tiny side room, waiting and waiting. And then crying. I couldn’t get in touch with him, no one had mobile phones back then. The only close friends he had were at the wedding and none of them had the faintest idea where he might have gone.

  “An hour after the wedding was supposed to start, a phone call came through to the church. It was Steven. He told the minister to tell me he was sorry but he couldn’t go through with the wedding. The minister could hardly look me in the eye.”

  “Jesus,” Keith said, his gaze somehow acknowledging all the hurt she’d felt back then.

  “Finally, my mother sent the guests home and we went to the hotel where the reception was booked to tell the staff that everything was cancelled. I was stunned and in total shock, but not once did my mother say I-told-you-so. In fact, she never said it. I’ll always love her for that.”

  “I’ve been a groom at three weddings, Chrissie. I can’t imagine what it would’ve felt like to be abandoned at the altar.”

  “That wasn’t even the worst part of the day. While my mother spoke with the hotel staff, I went into the room where we would’ve held our wedding buffet. Steven and I had agreed that we wanted to have an amazing wedding cake. That’s what we’d see in our wedding photographs after all, so we’d make it really special.”

  Keith smiled sadly. “Just what my friend from the pub, Big Kev, wants for his wedding cake, too.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, Steven said he’d surprise me with something really gorgeous, and insisted on choosing and ordering the cake. I was so excited, wondering what he’d come up with. He was a chef, after all, and he was Steven, so I had all these images in my head of amazing wedding cakes he might pick. Would it be three tiers or four? Would the icing be elegant ivory or some gorgeous pastel? Would there be glorious flowers draped over it or would he choose some elaborate design in sugar work? He told me our cake would symbolise what we meant to one another and I was desperate to know what he’d pick. And so when I went into the room where the cake was laid out, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”

  Chrissie paused and took another long sip of whisky. This was the part that hit her hardest whenever she thought back on it, the terrible detail in the sorry story that always came closest to cracking open her soul.

  “There on the table was the wedding cake that Steven had chosen,” Chrissie said. “And in an instant, those gorgeous pictures I’d conjured in my head disappeared. There were no tiers, there were no decorative flowers, no sweet sugar work. It hadn’t even come from a cake shop. It was just this square slab of cake, like the ones you buy in the supermarket for parties.”

  Keith blew out a breath. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  “I found myself asking all these questions. Was that all I’d meant to him? Had he been having doubts all along and only bought the cake at the last minute? If he’d been having doubts, why had he bought the cake at all instead of talking to me? I realised that he must’ve been hedging his bets all along, waiting to see how he felt on the day.” She laughed sadly. “And if we had got married, I’m sure he would’ve come up with some story that made it seem like the cake he’d bought was the most obvious choice in the world. And I would’ve believed every word of it because I was under some dark spell.”

  Chrissie paused, the sad memories whirling in her mind.

  “Anyway, a few weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Alison. After a lot of soul-searching, I gave up my little flat, moved in with my mother, and later that year became a mother myself. It was a long time ago, and I got over it all a long time ago, too. I made a good life for myself and my daughter and I don’t regret anything.”

  “Was Alison’s father involved in her life?”

  “No,” Chrissie said, remembering back to the sadness of that time. “I hadn’t even wanted to tell Steven there was going to be a baby. He’d walked out on our wedding and left me standing at the altar. That wasn’t someone I wanted involved in my child’s life. But my mother convinced me that he ought to pay child support and that I shouldn’t let him off the hook when I’d quite obviously need the money. I hated that idea, even though I understood the logic of it.

  “After a lot of fretting, I finally tracked him down and called him. Steven began apologising for the wedding, saying he just wasn’t ready, it was all too much too soon. I was on the other end of the line, wondering why he was telling me this when the whole thing had been his idea. Finally, I got him to shut up long enough to tell him I was pregnant. He went wild, whooping with joy. He promised he’d be the best dad in the world.”

  Keith gave a sad smile. “Did you believe him?”

  “Not for a minute,” Chrissie said. “He’d already moved to London and found a new job, but he promised he’d come and visit as soon as the baby was born. He never did. In fact, by the time Alison arrived, he’d already fallen out of contact. He paid some child support for a few months, but it soon stopped and I didn’t go after him about it. Somehow I knew it would be a lost cause.

  “Once social media came along, I was sneaky and went searchin
g for him, wondering what he’d done with his life. I imagined he’d turned into this brilliant chef with his own restaurant and a beautiful wife and family. When I finally found him, he wasn’t any of those things. He’d had his own restaurant at one point but had lost it after getting into trouble with the taxman. A street food business he’d set up had also failed, and there were rumours of fraud. He had a string of angry girlfriends behind him and some dodgy looking friends. His life seemed chaotic and it made me glad he’d never been involved in ours.”

  “Sounds like you had a lucky escape.”

  “If I hadn’t met Steven, there’d be no Alison, and I can’t imagine my life without her. Even in my darkest moment, something wonderful still came out of it. Steven derailed my life, but I wouldn’t be where I am now if that hadn’t happened. I wouldn’t have left the restaurant trade to become a college teacher, and if I hadn’t become a college teacher I might never have found my passion for cakes and ended up opening my own shop.”

  Keith looked thoughtful. “You spend a lot of time making wedding cakes. Does that ever get to you, after what happened?”

  Chrissie gave a soft shrug. “The truth is I love making my wedding cakes. I love helping brides get what they want on their wedding day. Every time one of my cakes puts a smile on a bride’s face, I feel like I’ve made a tiny contribution to the world.”

  Keith watched her steadily. “You’re an amazing woman, Chrissie.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes, really.”

  Chrissie smiled. “We all choose the path we take through life. Do we let the things that hurt us destroy us? Or do we use them to get stronger? I decided to use them to build a life I could be proud of. My time with Steven was so long ago now that it feels like a fever dream. Yes, I have my moments when I’m preparing a wedding cake and I think about that day and how foolish I felt. And then once I’m done thinking about it, I get on with whatever I have to get on with.”

  Keith sipped from his whisky glass, his eyes still locked on her. “I’m glad we met, Chrissie.”

  “Me too.”

  “Want a top up?”

  Chrissie shook her head. “If I drink any more I might not make it back to my own room tonight.”

  “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.” Chrissie smiled. “But the truth is, I could murder a cup of tea.”

  Keith laughed softly. “You read my mind.”

  As she watched Keith deal with the kettle and the teabag sachets, and scowl at the pots of milk as he wrestled with the tiny foil lids, Chrissie found herself snuggling beneath the bed covers in contentment and thinking about how lovely it was to be so perfectly comfortable with this man who had slipped into her life when she was least expecting it. And it felt good to share her sad story with him. Now that it was out in the open, she could forget about it and think instead about whatever it was that was blooming between the two of them.

  This was the start of something good in her life, that much she was sure of. And it felt wonderful to be on the cusp of this new beginning and wondering what might lie ahead.

  It was almost seven the following morning when Chrissie woke and found Keith snoring quietly beside her. She roused him with a kiss and arranged to meet for breakfast in the restaurant, then returned to her own room to enjoy a hot shower and indulge in the hotel’s fancy complimentary toiletries.

  She pulled fresh clothes from her suitcase and turned on the shower, and was about to step under the hot spray when she remembered she hadn’t plugged her phone in to charge overnight. Her late night expedition to Keith’s room had made her completely forget to take care of the chore. In fact, she hadn’t even remembered to take the phone with her when she’d gone to seek him out.

  Chrissie grabbed the charger and her phone. But when she glanced at the screen and saw the long list of missed calls and messages from Alison and Irene, her knees buckled.

  Mum, I tried to call you – call me back!

  Mum, please phone me!

  Chrissie, where are you? Phone Alison or me as soon as you get this message, it’s urgent…

  Chrissie scrolled quickly through the messages. The first had come in just after one in the morning, the last a few hours ago. The missed calls had been coming through all night.

  Her hands shaking, Chrissie dialled Alison’s number. Thoughts flashed through her mind about all the things that might have gone wrong at the house in her absence. Had Gregor tried to finish the bathroom repairs and caused even more water damage? Had Alison turned her hand to more cooking and caused the house to burn to the ground? And why would they do such things in the middle of the night? It didn’t make any sense, and…

  “Mum!” Alison cried as soon as she answered Chrissie’s call. “Oh Mum, I’ve been trying to reach you all night. Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

  “What’s wrong?” Chrissie said, sweeping aside the awkward question. “What’s happened to the house?”

  “The house is fine,” Alison sobbed. “It’s Poppy. Poppy’s been rushed to hospital.”

  26

  The road sped by outside the car windows as drizzle fell from leaden skies. Yesterday, the scenery had looked glorious as they’d motored along. Today, everything just looked miserable and Chrissie couldn’t wait for the journey to be over. Even though Keith was pushing the speed limit, each mile still took an eternity.

  “Another hour and we’ll be there,” Keith assured her, his gaze flicking to her hands which she’d been kneading together in her lap in agitation.

  “Sorry, I know I’m not much company,” Chrissie said, forcing herself to stop fidgeting.

  “There’s nothing to apologise for. Your mind’s on your granddaughter. Talk or don’t talk, do whatever you want. But don’t apologise, not to me.”

  Chrissie gave a weak smile and sighed. The information she’d managed to extract from Alison on the phone, and then from her mother, was sparse but terrifying, and Chrissie couldn’t help but turn the details over and over in her head, trying to make sense of them.

  Poppy had fussed for most of the previous evening, Alison had explained, and at bedtime she’d only fallen asleep after much rocking and cuddling. When Alison had checked on her, she’d found Poppy awake but listless and with a high temperature. When she’d picked the toddler up, Poppy had begun coughing and vomiting violently, and at one point at choked so badly that her little face had turned puce and she’d almost stopped breathing.

  Fear and panic had set in. The emergency operator Alison spoke to on the phone had dispatched an ambulance. Gregor had called Irene, who’d immediately gone to the house and accompanied them to the hospital where the staff had worked to stop Poppy’s vomiting and figure out what was causing it.

  When Chrissie had spoken to Alison that morning, there was still no word on what exactly might be wrong, but the good news was that Poppy was stable. Alison had promised to phone if there was any more news. So far, Chrissie’s phone had remained grimly silent during the journey back home.

  In the absence of answers, terrible thoughts clouded Chrissie’s mind about what might be wrong with her precious little granddaughter. Gastroenteritis. Meningitis. Deadly poisoning. Chrissie felt sick at the thought of the awful, painful things that might be happening to Poppy’s tiny body at that very moment.

  And she felt sicker still when she thought of how Alison and Poppy had been going through this fear and trauma all night while she’d been having fun in bed with a man she’d only just met.

  Keith moved his hand from the steering wheel and gently patted her leg. “Everything will be okay.”

  Chrissie shifted in her seat and glanced away. Keith’s smile faded and he looked back to the road.

  “I promise you, Chrissie,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”

  For the rest of the journey, Chrissie repeated his words inside her head like a prayer.

  After a journey that seemed to last a thousand years, Keith finally pulled into t
he hospital car park. Chrissie was already releasing her seatbelt and opening the door before he’d even brought the car to a stop. Ten minutes and almost a mile of hospital corridors later, Chrissie ran into the ward and found Alison and Gregor and Irene huddled in a side room. Poppy lay on the hospital bed, her cheeks flushed and her eyelids fluttering. Her granddaughter looked so tiny and vulnerable, and Chrissie’s eyes welled with tears at the sight of her.

  “Mum!” Alison said, leaping from her chair and hugging Chrissie fiercely. “I thought you’d never get here.”

  “Is she okay?” Chrissie managed to say, her words thick with emotion.

  “She’s fine,” Alison said, nodding against Chrissie’s shoulder. “She’s going to be fine.”

  Chrissie began crying then, huge fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Thank God. If anything had happened to her, I don’t know what—”

  “Don’t say it,” Alison said. “I can’t bear to think about it.”

  Gregor stepped forward and hugged Chrissie, before making way for Irene to do the same. Chrissie pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes, and then jolted in surprise when she realised Keith had entered the room and was now embracing Alison in a warm hug, and squeezing Gregor on the arm, and giving Irene a friendly kiss on the cheek as he looked over at the little bed and Poppy. She’d almost forgotten he’d been hot on her heels as she’d darted through the hospital in search of the correct ward, and it touched her now to see the concern on his face as he looked at Poppy lying on the bed.

  A tiny smile caught on Poppy’s lips when she saw Keith, and she reached towards him. Chrissie’s heart clenched as the man stepped closer and let the little girl grab at his finger.

  Alison gasped. “That’s the most she’s moved in the last half hour.”

  “She just needed to see my ugly mug for a change of scenery,” Keith laughed softly.

  Chrissie turned to Alison. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”