Single All the Way: An unputdownable and uplifting Christmas romance

by Karen King

  As she got up to follow Meg into the hall, Sally wondered why she had left Oliver. She’ll tell me in her own good time, she thought. Don’t interfere. But her daughter’s pale face and dark eyes worried her. Whatever the reason was, Meg looked completely heartbroken.

  Wrapped up in their boots and winter coats – a berry-coloured parka for Meg and a dark blue duffel coat for Sally – they walked down the hill towards the harbour. Sparkling Christmas lights, adorning many of the windows and strung across the streets, twinkled merrily in the darkness while gaily decorated Christmas trees shone out from windows, porches and even a few front gardens.

  Sally remembered the narrow street as if it were yesterday, but it had been summer when she’d been here before: the sun had been shining and colourful pots of flowers had covered windowsills and hung in baskets by the doors of the cottages. The picturesque buildings ran right down to the sea, and at the bottom of the hill, set back from the harbour, was the little café where they used to have breakfast. She wondered if it was still there.

  She smiled as Meg linked an arm through hers and exclaimed, ‘It’s so pretty and festive! I wonder if there are any Christmas lights down by the harbour.’

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, Meg gasped and looked up at the strings of colourful decorations, their reflections shimmering in the calm, black, velvet sea. ‘It’s so beautiful.’

  But Sally wasn’t looking at the lights; she was looking for the café set back a little way from the beach. Her heart flipped when she saw that it was still there. Tears pricked her eyes as the bittersweet memories flooded back. Why had she thought coming here was such a good idea? It had only made things worse.

  5

  Meg

  As they walked along the harbour, chatting more easily now, Meg felt herself relaxing. She was ready to talk, she decided; it would be good to get her mother’s advice. And she also desperately wanted to find out what had gone wrong in her parents’ marriage. I guess I’ll have to start it off, she thought. Her mother seemed very reluctant to confide. She could understand that in a way; parents were used to keeping their problems from their children, and she guessed that habit continued even when the children were grown up.

  ‘Shall I make us a hot chocolate, then we can talk?’ she suggested when they returned home.

  ‘That would be lovely.’ Sally tugged off her boots and hung up her coat. ‘I’ll just pop to the loo.’

  As Meg made her way into the kitchen, her mind flipped back to the previous evening, when her life had been blown apart. It had started out so well; she and Oliver had organised and run another children’s party and it had been a big success.

  Meg looked around at all the happy, beaming faces. This was what she loved most about her job as a party planner: seeing the pleasure on the children’s faces. Amazing Anna, with her bright red curly hair, flamboyant rainbow-coloured cloak and matching hat, was a brilliant magician and had held them all enthralled with her skilful tricks. The last one, making a row of feathers change colour simply by passing her hand over them, had made the children gasp with amazement. She’d been right to give Anna a chance, although Oliver hadn’t been sure she was experienced enough – she’d admitted this was only her second party, but Meg was always one for giving people chances.

  She glanced over at Oliver, who was setting up the music for the games, his dark hair flopped over his face. The same colour hair as Meg’s, although, like today, Meg often wore her hair up in a messy bun whereas Oliver’s curled wildly beneath his ears. Sometimes, when they lay in bed together, their hair spread out on the pillow, it was hard to tell whose hair was whose. She often teased him about it, and he would laugh, threatening to put it up in a man bun so they could look like twins.

  As if he felt her gaze, Oliver looked up, his rich brown eyes meeting hers, his face breaking into a grin as he put up his thumb, acknowledging that he agreed with her choice. For a moment their eyes locked and an intense surge of love gushed through her. Seven years they’d been together, five of them married, and she loved him more each day. He looked the same now as the day they’d met, handsome in a dreamy, romantic kind of way, his thick dark eyebrows and dark stubble enhancing the faraway look that never left his eyes, as if his mind was somewhere else. If she hadn’t known, she’d have thought he was an artist or musician, but he was actually a landscape gardener, and the baggy T-shirts he wore hid a fit body, toned from the hours of working outside – although she later found out that he played the guitar well and had once been in a band. Oliver had come to help her dad, Ted, redesign the garden, and Meg had popped in for a cuppa just as Oliver was digging the flower beds. She had fallen in love with him at first sight, and he said he had fallen for her right away too. She’d taken him a mug of coffee – black, one sugar. Their eyes had met as she’d passed him the mug and neither of them had been able to tear their gaze away until her dad had coughed rather awkwardly and broken the spell. Her mother had spotted it, taking a break from complaining about the hours her dad spent in the garden to comment that they’d make a nice couple. When Meg had gone out to retrieve the empty mug, Oliver had asked her out for a drink and they had been inseparable ever since.

  Party MO had been Meg’s idea – MO standing for Meg and Oliver. She had previously worked for a promotions company and had wanted to run her own party-planning business for some time. Then a couple of years after she and Oliver had got married, Meg was made redundant so she had decided to take the plunge, supplementing party planning with a bit of freelance PR and social media work. She’d persuaded Oliver to come on board, working around his gardening jobs, and they made a good team. Meg loved kids, and Oliver had a natural rapport with them too. He would make a great dad and Meg couldn’t wait until they had their own family.

  Oliver was playing his guitar now, the children sitting around him, singing along to ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’ as the party was drawing to a close. Parents were already milling in the hall, many of them pausing to listen to Oliver. He always had that effect on people: women fancied him, men wanted to be him, some men fancied him too – she remembered one guy when they’d been visiting Oliver’s mum, Faye, in Portugal…

  A loud round of applause broke through her thoughts; the song was finished. She smiled and went forward to greet the parents, and to hand out party bags and say goodbye to the children. Several of the parents wanted to enquire about booking a party for their child, so Meg made a note of their names and the birthday dates, promising to email them with information. She’d placed a Party MO card in each party bag too, knowing it might drum up future business.

  ‘Thank you, both. Emily has really enjoyed herself. And it’s so nice to not have to organise any of it myself!’ Alisha, the mum who had booked the party, said. ‘I’ll definitely be writing you a nice review on your Facebook page and recommending you to my local mum-friends.’

  ‘We’d appreciate that,’ Oliver told her in the rich, deep voice that always made Meg’s heart skip a beat. She was sure it had that effect on other women too but had never for one second doubted Oliver’s love and loyalty.

  ‘I bet you really push the boat out for your own children’s parties,’ Alisha said. ‘Or do you get someone else to do it so you can enjoy the occasion?’

  ‘We don’t have any children yet, but when we do I’m sure we’ll go completely over the top organising their parties, won’t we, Oliver?’ Meg replied, grinning. It was something she was really looking forward to.

  ‘Knowing you, yes!’ Oliver nodded.

  Alisha smiled. ‘Well, enjoy the years before you do have kids. Because once you do, I promise life will never be the same again.’ She reached out to grab her toddler before she ran off.

  ‘We are,’ Oliver assured her.

  It’s what Oliver had said right from the beginning when they’d realised how serious they were about each other and the subject of having a family had come up. ‘Let’s enjoy a few years together first, go out, travel, do things as a couple before
we get tied down with kids. Life isn’t the same when you have a family.’

  ‘You do want kids though, don’t you?’ Meg had asked. She’d always wanted a family. She’d grown up in a happy family and wanted the same for herself. Her brother Dan was two years older and already had a little son, Tom. She’d told Oliver as soon as they’d started to get serious that having children was important to her, and if he didn’t feel the same he needed to tell her right now, before they got in too deep.

  ‘Of course I do,’ he’d said, kissing her forehead. ‘Just not yet. We’ve got plenty of time.’

  She hadn’t wanted them in those early days either. When they had met she was only twenty-seven and felt, like Oliver, that she needed to have a few years doing what she wanted with her life first. However, over the last couple of years, the longing to have children had grown stronger. She’d broached the subject with Oliver a few times but he’d suggested they leave it a little longer, until he’d finished redecorating their house, getting the garden straight, had another couple of holidays abroad, got Party MO up and running, and she’d agreed it made sense to wait. Only time was running out now: Meg would be thirty-five in two months’ time and was very aware that the longer they left it, the harder it might be to have a baby. Besides, she felt ready now. She wanted to be still young enough to do things when the children had grown up. Her mother had been twenty-five when she’d had Dan, twenty-seven when she’d had Meg, and had always been a buzz of energy; still was. She was frequently out with her friends, especially since she’d retired from her teaching job three years ago, the same time as her dad, a civil servant. Meg wanted to have children while she was still young enough to run around with them, take them swimming, to theme parks. And Oliver was three years older than her. He’d be almost forty by the time their baby was born even if she fell pregnant right away. She’d talk to Oliver tonight. She smiled at the thought of a mini-Meg or mini-Oliver. Maybe both, in time. She’d like two children ideally.

  She looked up as a little boy ran back and held his hand up to Oliver, who knelt down and high-fived him. He would make a brilliant dad. It was Christmas in just under two weeks’ time. Wouldn’t it be lovely if they decided it was finally time to try for a family in the new year? They could have a baby by next Christmas. How amazing would that be?

  I was so happy then, Meg thought as she took the milk out of the fridge and poured it into a saucepan to warm up. She spooned the cocoa powder into two mugs and her mind drifted back to later that day, as they packed the party equipment away, when it had all gone wrong.

  ‘The party went well, didn’t it?’ Meg said as they cleared the hall, piling all their party equipment into the bright yellow van with balloons painted all over it and ‘Party MO’ written across the sides in rainbow colours. Oliver had been hesitant about painting the van yellow at first, but Meg had persuaded him that they wanted it to look bright and jolly and to stand out. She’d designed business cards, flyers and a website in the same design. Working in promotion, she knew how important branding was and wanted to give the image that Party MO were fun, professional and unique. They specialised solely in parties for children at the moment because they wanted to build a reputation in one field, but later they planned to branch out into parties for adults too, celebrating all sorts of occasions. They had big plans, she and Oliver.

  ‘It was great, and we’ve had three more bookings from parents already. Christmas is quiet though – thank goodness, because we need to put the van in for a service,’ Oliver said when everything had been put into the back of the van. He closed the doors. ‘Fancy a drink at the pub to celebrate?’ They often did this, popping into the local pub to unwind after a party.

  ‘Why don’t we get a bottle of wine and celebrate at home instead?’ she suggested. ‘We could get a takeaway too?’ Home was cosier and more intimate, much more suitable for raising the subject of starting a family. Tonight seemed the perfect time for it: Oliver had enjoyed himself so much with the kids – he always did – and the work was coming in. How brilliant it would be to tell her parents on Christmas Day that they were planning a family.

  ‘Chinese?’ Oliver grinned.

  ‘Perfect.’ She grinned back.

  They stopped for the Chinese and bottle of wine on the way home. As soon as they opened the front door, they heard Laurel and Hardy, chattering loudly.

  ‘Happy to see us, are you?’ Meg called as she carried the Chinese takeaway into the kitchen while Oliver, his guitar slung over his shoulder, carried the wine. Meg put the takeaway down on the table and made straight for the big pen pushed against the kitchen wall. Oliver carefully laid the guitar against the wall, then took two plates out of the cupboard and started dishing up their food.

  ‘Have you two been good, then?’ Meg cooed as she opened the door of the pen that was the bunnies’ home when Meg and Oliver were both out. Although both rabbits were house-trained, and the electrical wires were all covered up, she still worried about leaving them to roam if she and Oliver were out for more than an hour or so. Hardy dashed out first, dancing around her feet, followed by Laurel. The two little rabbits leapt around Meg and Oliver, making the soft purring noise that indicated they were happy.

  Meg took a bag of rabbit treats out of the cupboard under the sink and gave one to each bunny, kneeling down to fuss them. ‘You’re such a pair of cuties, aren’t you?’ she said softly. They’d bought the two adorable rabbits for their first wedding anniversary, both wanting pets but knowing they were out so much it wouldn’t be fair on a dog, and Oliver wasn’t really a cat-lover. His mum had had a cat when he was younger, and it kept bringing home dead mice and birds, which Oliver had found upsetting. Meg had suggested having house bunnies as she’d had a rabbit as a child and had loved those precious moments when she’d been allowed to bring Benji inside and cuddle him on her lap.

  Oliver grinned over at her. ‘The food’s ready. Do you want to eat at the table in here or on a tray in the lounge?’

  ‘Let’s eat here and let the bunnies run around for a bit, then we can finish off the wine in the lounge,’ she suggested.

  They sat chatting as they tucked into their meal – sweet-and-sour chicken with egg-fried rice for Meg, chow mein for Oliver – talking about their week at work, how the day had gone, their plans for Party MO. Then they opened a second bottle of wine and headed into the lounge, each carrying a sleepy rabbit.

  Meg sat with Hardy on her lap while Oliver stroked Laurel. It had been such a good idea to get them, she thought as she often did; they were so adorable and hardly any work at all.

  ‘Will you play me your new song?’ she asked. Oliver had been working on a song the last couple of weeks and she was eager to hear it, but he would never let anyone hear or read his songs until they were finished.

  He looked a bit doubtful. ‘It’s still not quite ready. I need to work on the lyrics a bit more.’

  She lifted her hand and touched his cheek. ‘Please. It might help you tweak it if you sing it aloud.’ She loved to hear Oliver sing; his voice was so rich and tender, it often brought tears to her eyes. Ballads and slow love songs were his favourite.

  His face broke into a smile and he placed his hand on top of hers, caressing it gently. ‘Okay.’ He passed Laurel to Meg then eased himself off the sofa and padded barefooted across the carpet to the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with his guitar. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Meg, who was now stroking both sleeping bunnies, he strummed the strings for a little while, getting the tune, then, satisfied, he started to sing:

  Love makes you walk over mountains,

  Through roaring flames and raging seas.

  Love sees you through when times are tough,

  But sometimes love isn’t enough.

  As he sang she thought how much she loved him, and wanted a family with him. Their life was wonderful as it was but becoming a family would make it even more perfect. Love was definitely enough for them.

  ‘That’s amazing,’
she told him, clapping enthusiastically. The bunnies were awake again now and both jumped down onto the floor, scurrying over to the tartan basket they shared. Meg picked up the half-empty wine bottle. ‘Shall we finish this off?’

  ‘Go for it.’ Oliver put his guitar down and sat beside Meg, taking the glass of red wine that she handed him. She picked up her own glass and snuggled into him, sighing with contentment as he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead tenderly. ‘Love you,’ he said softly.

  ‘Love you too,’ she whispered back, turning to look up at him. She was so lucky to have found this wonderful man. They were both lucky. ‘Olly…’ She paused, trying to form the words in her head.

  He smiled at her. ‘Ooh, I know that look. What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she reassured him. ‘Quite the opposite. The party-planning business is doing well, we both have plenty of other work, we’re in a really good place…’

  He squeezed her shoulder tighter, his eyes deepening as his smile widened. ‘We are. Things are really looking up.’

  ‘So…’ She paused again. What the hell, Meg, just say it. ‘Don’t you think this would be the perfect time to start our family?’ She saw his forehead crease into a frown and she straightened up to look at him as she quickly added, ‘I know it would mean a drop in income for a little while, but it would only be for a few months. I can still do the parties almost until the baby is born, and we can take him or her along with us afterwards.’

  Oliver reached out for her hand and held it in his, his expression earnest. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea yet, Meg. We’ve just started expanding, and a baby will take up a lot of our time. I think we should focus on building up the business a bit more first.’ He licked his lips and she wondered why he suddenly looked so nervous. ‘Let’s leave it for another couple of years, give ourselves time to be more financially stable.’