Single All the Way: An unputdownable and uplifting Christmas romance

by Karen King

  She watched resentfully as her husband padded across the kitchen floor in his thick gardening socks and disappeared into the downstairs washroom to get cleaned up. She flicked the switch of the kettle back down and washed up his mug so she could make him another cup of tea.

  ‘Beef and Yorkshire pud, is it?’ Ted asked as he walked back in, crossed the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table, where Sally had just put his mug of tea.

  Of course it was beef and Yorkshire pudding. They always had beef and Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday. Ted liked traditional food: steak and kidney pie with chips, stew and dumplings, roast chicken and potatoes with two greens. Sally had tried to broaden his tastes a few times over the years, serving up curry, paella, lasagne. Ted had frowned, disappointedly picked at the food and asked her if they could have a proper meal next time. In the end she’d given up trying to change his tastes.

  She dished out the food, poured herself a glass of water, and sat down opposite him.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, I might get myself a new shed for next year. That one’s chock-a-block. Maybe we could get a summer-house style; you might enjoy sitting out in it, reading a book and chatting to me while I work.’ He cut up a roast potato and bit into it.

  She couldn’t think of anything worse. She didn’t want to spend the summer sitting in a glammed-up shed reading or watching Ted gardening. She wanted to be paddling in the Mediterranean Sea, sunbathing on a far-flung beach in an exotic location, riding a camel across the desert. She wanted to see the world. If only she could persuade Ted to see the world with her.

  ‘I’ve been thinking too,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we go out for the day tomorrow? We could have a drive out and have a bit of lunch – it’ll make a nice change.’ Please say yes, she thought.

  ‘I’ve got quite a bit to do in the garden: the sprouts still need picking and the cabbages need weeding.’

  There was always an excuse. But she wasn’t going to give up this time, not like she usually did. Things had to change.

  ‘How about we go away for a week right after Christmas, then? Somewhere warm? It would be a lovely start to the new year.’

  Ted shook his head. ‘January’s a busy time in the garden. I can’t go away then.’

  ‘February, then, or March?’ Her voice sounded desperate even to her own ears.

  Ted chewed on a piece of beef before answering. ‘I don’t really like going away…’

  ‘You don’t like doing anything,’ Sally snapped, then seeing the hurt look cross his face, she checked her tone. She didn’t want to argue; Ted would only go off in a huff and sulk all evening. Oh, if only he wasn’t such a stick in the mud. ‘I really want to go on holiday, Ted. I want to finally do all the things we planned on doing when the kids grew up. Remember?’ she said, her voice softer now. ‘We said we’d go out and explore the world, take short city breaks, cruises, spend a couple of weeks soaking up the sun and the culture whenever we could.’

  Ted pursed his lips the way he did when he was getting annoyed. ‘We were younger then, Sal. Things change. We’ve got a good life, no money worries, mortgage paid off, time to spare. Why can’t you be happy with that instead of always wanting something else?’

  It was a long speech for Ted and the resentment in his voice annoyed her. She wasn’t asking much, for goodness’ sake! ‘There’s more to life than these four walls and the garden,’ she snapped. ‘I want to get out and about, to enjoy myself while I still can. You don’t seem to want to do anything or go anywhere.’

  Ted thumped his mug down on the table, his face growing red with anger. ‘That’s because I’m content, Sal. I’m happy with my life as it is. We’re nearly pensioners, for God’s sake, not teenagers. It’s enough for me for us to grow old together, in this house, seeing the family regularly, ambling along. It’s not enough for you though, is it? You think it’s boring, I’m boring. You want to be like Frances and Martin – but they’re not happy. Everyone knows Martin has a wandering eye but Frances ignores it because she likes their lifestyle. Is that what you want our life to be like?’

  This was typical Ted: any time she hinted that she wanted to change their life in any way, he went on the defensive, knowing she would back down to keep the peace. Well, this time she wasn’t going to. She was only asking for the occasional holiday and night out, things that most couples did as a matter of course.

  She took a sip of her water and calmly put the glass down again. ‘I’m not saying that at all, and you very well know it, so stop getting all grumpy. I don’t think it’s a lot to suggest we go for a holiday abroad. Surely you can manage one week away from the garden and your precious bowls? Or doesn’t what I want matter?’

  Ted stood up. ‘All I ever hear is what you want. Well, I don’t always want the same things as you. And while I would never stop you doing anything, I don’t think you should try and force me into doing something I don’t want to do either.’ He took his mug and plate over to the sink, then put them in the dishwasher. ‘Now I’m back off to the shed for a bit.’

  Sally watched, anger surging inside her, as Ted walked out of the back door, pulled on his wellingtons and went down the garden path. As far as Ted was concerned, that was it, subject closed. If Sally wanted to go on holiday or for an evening out, she usually had to go without him. Then put up with his sulking for a couple of weeks before she went, and for a few days when she came back.

  Obviously her happiness, her dreams, meant nothing to him.

  Maybe she didn’t mean anything to him, not in the way she wanted to. They had individual friends, interests, lives. There was no intimacy between them and hadn’t been for years. And Ted was happy for it to remain that way.

  Well, she wasn’t. Being with Ted was killing her spirit. She felt like she was withering away inside, just going through the motions each day, yearning for a better life.

  She could leave him.

  The thought had been going through her mind a lot for a while now. At first it had shocked her and she’d pushed it away quickly, but then it had interested her and she’d mulled it over, imagining a life of doing exactly what she wanted. A life of not feeling guilty because she wanted different things from Ted.

  But it would be a life without Ted.

  How could she do that? Next year they would be celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary. It was such a milestone. But it felt more like a millstone. Hanging around her neck.

  Ted would be devastated. And what would Meg and Dan say? And their friends? Everyone seemed to think that Sally and Ted would be together forever. At one time she had thought that too, but now the thought of spending the rest of her years with Ted horrified her. She felt like she was being suffocated.

  I need to get away, to think. Maybe after Christmas I will go away by myself, think about what to do. I’ve just got to get through Christmas.

  Little had she realised that the very next day she would leave Ted, Meg would leave Oliver, and they would both be planning to spend their Christmas together in Smuggler’s Haunt.

  There’s still over a week until Christmas, she reminded herself. Perhaps Meg and Oliver will make up. She hoped so. She very much doubted if she and Ted would though. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. For the first time in years she felt like she could breathe, like she could be herself. And that was a good feeling, even if it was mingled with sadness.

  7

  Tuesday, 16 December

  Meg

  Meg slept restlessly and was up early the next morning, only to find when she’d showered, dressed and gone downstairs that her mother had been up long before her. ‘Gone to the shop for some bread and more milk. Back soon,’ read the note propped up by the kettle. She guessed that Mum hadn’t slept very well either. And they never had got around to fully discussing why she had left Dad. Instead her mum had been too busy lecturing her about leaving Oliver.

  God, Mum was insufferable sometimes. It was bad enough that Meg’s own marriage was falling apart without having to cope with her
parents’ break-up as well!

  Meg used the last drop of milk to make herself a cup of coffee while she checked her phone: still no word from Oliver. She walked over to the window, looking out into the garden as she sipped the warm liquid. This was the first Christmas she and Oliver had spent apart for seven years. And the only time she could remember her parents being separated at Christmas. What a Christmas and new year this was going to be.

  She blinked back the tears from her eyes and glanced at the clock. Ten past nine. Dad would be up now – he was always up at seven thirty on the dot – and was probably already out in the garden. She’d give him a ring while her mum was out, check if he was okay and see if she could talk him into phoning her mum and trying to sort things out. She selected a video call so she could see how he was.

  ‘Hello, pet, how are you?’ her father asked in his just-woken-up voice.

  ‘Sorry, Dad, were you sleeping?’ she apologised, surprised to see him still in bed.

  ‘Had a bit of a late night after the bowls game,’ he told her as he sat up, plumping the pillow behind him.

  God, he was as bad as Oliver. ‘Dad! Mum’s left you and you’re out playing bowls,’ she scolded. ‘How could you?’

  ‘She’s not left me. She’s gone away for a couple of days to spend time with you. She’ll be back soon. Now how about you and Oliver? I can’t believe you’ve walked out on him so near to Christmas. What’s he done, pet?’

  Meg drew a breath. She didn’t want to talk about her and Oliver right now; she needed to convince her dad that the situation with her mum was serious. ‘Dad, what did you fall out about? Mum is adamant that she’s had enough and I’m not sure she will come back.’

  Dad rubbed his eyes before replying. ‘Of course she’ll come back. She’s just in a sulk because I don’t want to go on holiday…’

  ‘It’s got to be more than that.’

  ‘Your mum is such hard work sometimes. Many women would be grateful for a bloke like me.’ Dad looked annoyed. ‘I’m a good husband. I’ve worked hard and taken care of you all, haven’t I? I’ve never strayed like bloody Saint Martin, Frances’s husband, but I’m still not good enough.’

  ‘Mum’s worked hard too, and she hasn’t strayed either,’ Meg reminded him. ‘And she’s got to be really upset over something to walk out, especially at Christmastime.’

  ‘It’s all because she wants to go on a cruise like Frances and Martin and I don’t want to. She’s bored, that’s what. She’s been like this ever since she retired, always wanting to do something, go somewhere. I’ve told her I’ve got plenty to keep me busy here, and what’s the point of me traipsing around the shops with her, or going to the cinema to see a film I’m not interested in, just so we can have some “couple time”? We’re not a pair of flipping newlyweds.’ He sounded indignant now and Meg couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Had Mum really walked out because she’d got bored with him?

  ‘She’ll be back when she’s sulked enough. She’s not going to leave me, split up our family after all these years. And make sure you come back with her if you and Oliver don’t make up. I don’t want you spending Christmas alone.’ He paused. ‘What have you argued about anyway? I like Oliver, he’s a nice chap, always helpful and a miracle worker in the garden. Don’t tell me he’s played away?’

  Why did everyone assume that? But then she’d asked her mum the same question, hadn’t she? ‘No, he hasn’t,’ she replied emphatically. ‘And I don’t want to talk about it, Dad. It’s personal.’ She was still too wounded to tell her father how Oliver had deceived her.

  ‘What made you go down Cornwall, anyway?’ Ted asked. ‘What area are you?’

  That was typical Dad – he hadn’t even bothered to ask Mum whereabouts she was going. ‘We’re in a place called Goolan Bay, Dad. Mum’s booked a cottage here. Apparently she’s stayed here before, years ago.’

  Dad looked surprised but didn’t say anything. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him about Mum going to the cottage before. She remembered her parents saying that they’d met as teenagers but had split up for a while as they’d felt too young to settle down, then got back together and got engaged. What if Mum had had another boyfriend then and come down to Goolan Bay with him? Dad might not want to be reminded of that, especially if it was those happy memories that had drawn her mum back down here.

  She looked over her shoulder as she heard the front door open. Mum was back. ‘I’ve got to go, Dad, but please phone Mum and talk to her. Soon. Or your marriage might really be over.’ Then she ended the call before her dad could reply.

  I hope I’ve said enough to convince him the situation is serious, she thought, getting up to fill the kettle. He was treating it as if Mum was taking a little holiday.

  ‘Want a coffee?’ she asked as the kitchen door opened and her mum came in.

  ‘Please.’ Sally put her bag down on the table and glanced at Meg. ‘I thought I heard you talking to someone when I came in. Was it Oliver?’

  She might as well confess. ‘It was Dad. I wanted to see how he was.’ Keeping her back to her mum, she took a mug out of the cupboard and spooned coffee into it. ‘He seems to think you’ll be home in a day or two, Mum. He even suggested that I go back with you if I don’t make up with Oliver.’ She added milk and hot water to the coffee, stirred it then turned around. ‘He said you walked out because he wouldn’t go on a cruise like Frances and Martin.’ She tried not to sound accusing. ‘I told him there had to be more to it than that but he was adamant that was the reason.’

  Sally looked at her steadily. ‘Of course there is more to it than that, but I don’t think you’ll understand. It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘Try me,’ Meg said. ‘After all, I did tell you why Oliver and I split up.’ She felt a bit guilty about how she had snapped at her mum last night. ‘And I’m sorry I was snappy and stormed out. I didn’t mean it.’ She handed her the mug of coffee. ‘I promise I’ll listen and try not to be judgy.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sally agreed. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

  Meg pulled out the chair opposite and sat down too. She waited expectantly as her mother nursed her cup of coffee, seeming to stare into space, probably trying to find the words, Meg guessed, to explain why she had walked out on her dad.

  ‘Look, I know this is difficult for you, Meg. I’m sure you love us both and I’m not expecting you to take my side or trying to turn you against your dad. I’m just trying to explain.’ She paused. ‘Dad is right in that him not wanting to go on the cruise was the catalyst for me leaving, but to be honest, Meg, I’ve felt trapped in a loveless, boring marriage for years.’

  Meg stared at her incredulously. How could Mum say that? Her parents were happy together; they’d hardly ever rowed like some of her friends’ parents. ‘That can’t be true. Dad loves you. You both get on so well. I’ve hardly ever heard you argue.’

  ‘Because we’re not the sort of people who argue if we can help it. We jog along, put up with each other, do our own thing. Think about it though, Meg. When do we ever do anything together?’

  Meg had never really given much thought to her parents’ relationship; she’d accepted that Dad was steady, reliable, okay a bit boring but that wasn’t a crime, and that Mum was outgoing, a doer, always off somewhere. ‘I thought you liked going out and on holiday with your friends, and Dad always seemed okay with that. I thought you both liked doing your own thing.’

  ‘Your dad isn’t okay with that. He sulks like crazy for a good week before I go on holiday and another week when I come back. But he refuses to come with me. How do you think that makes me feel?’ Sally rubbed her finger around the rim of her mug. ‘I want to go out with my husband, I want us to go away together – but I know if we do, your dad will only grumble and ruin the holiday for me anyway.’

  Meg could see her point. She’d hate it if Oliver never went anywhere with her. They did most things together out of work hours. He just doesn’t want a baby with you. She pushed the thought a
way. She needed to concentrate on fixing things between her parents. ‘Can’t you tell Dad how you feel? I’ll tell him if you like,’ she offered. ‘I’ll try and make him understand. You can’t split up over something like this, Mum. You can fix this, I know you can.’

  ‘I’ve told him and he doesn’t care. Do you really think I’ve walked away without seeing if I can fix it?’ Sally snapped. ‘I’m hurt that you think I’m that selfish.’

  ‘Of course not. That’s not what I’m saying.’ She hadn’t meant to upset her mum. She lowered her voice. ‘Dad will be devastated if you break up. I don’t know how he’ll cope without you. And surely you’ll miss him too?’ She put her mug down on the table and leant forward, convinced that her mum was acting on impulse and hadn’t thought this through. ‘You don’t really want to start again at your age, do you? Where will you live? What will you do?’

  Sally sighed. ‘Forget for a moment that we’re your parents, Meg. Can you do that?’

  Surprised, Meg looked at her and nodded slowly.

  ‘Now imagine being married to someone who not only never goes anywhere with you but never shows you any affection apart from the odd kiss on the cheek, who never wants to cuddle you, make love to you, and hasn’t wanted to for years…’

  Meg felt her cheeks burn. She really didn’t want to know about her parents’ sex life, or lack of it. ‘Oh, Mum, don’t get too personal…’

  ‘Believe me, I don’t want to tell you anything personal, but I do want you to understand why I’ve left your father, and why I don’t want to go back. You might not agree with my reasons, but please at least acknowledge them.’

  Meg saw tears well up in her mother’s eyes and immediately felt bad for being so harsh. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to upset you. I do know that Dad is a bit set in his ways, and a bit… reserved. But—’