Single All the Way: An unputdownable and uplifting Christmas romance

by Karen King

  ‘I would really appreciate that, Sally – if you’re sure? I feel a bit cheeky. You’re on holiday, after all.’

  ‘Not exactly a holiday. I’ve come to think things over,’ Sally told her then hesitated. She didn’t want to share too much with a stranger, although she and Meg had already told Rose that they’d both left their husbands.

  ‘I’m happy to lend an ear if you want to offload, but I don’t want to intrude if you prefer to keep it private,’ Rose offered.

  She did want to offload, and she had no one to talk to except Meg, who clearly didn’t understand. So Sally found herself telling Rose, who had now pulled out a chair and was sitting next to her, all about how unhappy she was with Ted.

  ‘It sounds so petty, I know. Lots of people have bigger issues to deal with in their marriages, but I feel at the end of my tether,’ she confessed.

  Rose patted her on the hand. ‘It’s not petty at all. You’ve got a life to live and it seems your husband is making you pretty miserable. The important question is, will you be happier with him or without him?’

  ‘Without him, I’m pretty certain of that. But should I choose my happiness over everyone else’s?’ Sally poured herself a cup of tea and added milk. ‘Meg is upset, and my son Dan will be too when he finds out. And so is Ted. He doesn’t want us to break up.’

  ‘Only you can answer that, love. Remember, though, you don’t have to be a martyr to keep everyone else happy. They’re all adults. You aren’t responsible for any of them, nor are you required to make anyone happy.’

  The door opened, bringing in a waft of cold air and another customer, a woman with a child. ‘I’d better get back to work,’ Rose said, getting to her feet and leaving Sally staring thoughtfully into her tea. Would she really be happier without Ted? Starting all over again at her age? Where would she live? What would she do?

  * * *

  Meg was back from her walk and was sitting in the lounge reading a magazine when Sally got home. She looked up as Sally walked in. ‘Have you been to your favourite café again?’

  ‘How did you guess?’ Sally asked with a smile. She told Meg about Rose needing help at the Fayre. ‘I’ve promised to make some cakes and help out with the cake stall. But she needs someone to run another stall. I don’t know if you fancy it?’ She looked questioningly at Meg.

  Meg closed the magazine. ‘I wouldn’t mind. I could make some balloon animals if you like. The kids love those. We could sell them for a couple of pounds each. Luckily I’ve got my kit in the car.’ Making balloon animals was one of Meg’s specialities and they were always a big success at the children’s parties she and Oliver ran. When the children had finished running around playing games, Meg would sit them down to make some balloon animals, giving them a chance to calm down before their parents arrived and something to take home with them. Sally had been to a couple of the parties and seen how much the children loved it.

  ‘That’s fantastic. I’ll let Rose know. She gave me her number in case we had any questions.’

  ‘I’ll start making them tomorrow,’ Meg said.

  At that moment, Sally’s phone rang. She picked it up off the coffee table, where she’d placed it when she’d come in, and looked at the screen. Dan. Her heart sank. Ted must have told him that she’d walked out, and she could guess what their son would have to say.

  Meg raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  ‘It’s Dan,’ Sally mouthed as she answered the call.

  ‘What the hell are you playing at, Mum?’ Dan’s voice boomed out. ‘I’ve just been talking to Dad and he’s really cut up. He said you’ve walked out because he won’t go on holiday with you and your cronies…’

  Sally held the phone a little away from her ear. ‘Look, Dan, you don’t understand—’

  ‘Understand! I understand that Dad has worked hard all his life to provide for us.’

  ‘I’ve worked too,’ Sally reminded him.

  ‘And he’s a decent bloke, hardly goes out for a drink, doesn’t gamble or womanise, lets you go out or on holiday with your friends—’

  ‘Lets me? You think I need his permission, do you? And I only go with my friends because your father won’t go with me.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, you should be settling down to old age together, not splitting up!’ Dan roared. ‘You can’t do this to him, Mum. You can’t split the family up.’

  Sally’s chin wobbled and she bit her lip, her eyes brimming with tears as she tried to find the words to explain her decision to Dan.

  Suddenly Meg snatched the phone out of Sally’s hand. ‘You’ve no right to talk to Mum like that, Dan. She’s really unhappy and upset. Who do you think you are telling her what to do and assuming that she’s the one in the wrong?’ Meg demanded furiously. ‘You have no idea how much she’s tried to make things work with Dad.’

  Sally listened, astonished and pleased that Meg was sticking up for her. She heard Dan catch his breath.

  ‘I might have known you women would stick together. What’s Dad done that’s so terrible?’

  ‘That’s between Mum and Dad, Dan. It’s none of our business. We have to leave them to sort it out between themselves.’

  ‘And what about you and Oliver? Dad said you’ve split up too. What’s the matter with the women in this family?’ Sally heard him demand.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about me and Oliver. Our marriage is none of your business either,’ retorted Meg.

  ‘It’s bloody Christmas, Meg. Can’t you and Mum at least put up with things until after Christmas? Goodwill to all men and all that? You both couldn’t have chosen a worse time to walk out. Dad is devastated. Mum can’t leave him on his own over Christmas.’

  ‘If you’re really so worried about Dad, then you do Christmas at your house for a change. You and Katya cook the dinner and invite Dad over,’ Meg told him firmly.

  ‘There’s no talking to you. You’re both bloody selfish.’ Dan snorted and ended the call.

  ‘Thank you.’ Sally dabbed her eyes with a screwed-up tissue. Dan had really upset her. ‘I feel like I should go back home, just for Christmas. But if I do, how can I ever leave again? And although I’m really sorry that your dad is hurt, I don’t want to go back, Meg. I feel trapped.’

  ‘You’ve got to do what’s best for you, Mum,’ Meg said, hugging her. ‘I’m sorry that I was a bit off with you about it at first. It’s hard when your parents split up. But like I told Dan, it’s none of our business. This is between you and Dad, no one else.’

  15

  Thursday, 18 December

  Meg

  The next day was mild with a low wind, so when her mum suggested taking a picnic up to the Cragg, Meg was happy to go along.

  ‘Your Dad and I spent many a happy afternoon here when we were on our honeymoon,’ she told her as they sat at the top of the Cragg, tucking into ham sandwiches, scones and strawberries and cream – the food Mum had brought with them today and always made for a picnic. Meg guessed the tradition had started way back then. She asked the question as she squeezed tomato ketchup onto her ham.

  Her mum nodded. ‘Yep, the first time we decided to go on a picnic it was on impulse; we’d seen the Cragg a few times and said we wanted to go to the top, so one day we decided to have a picnic up here. We only had ham in the fridge, and we bought strawberries, scones and cream on the way.’

  Meg bit into the sandwich and chewed it thoughtfully as her mum continued. ‘It was a lovely day. We sat up here for hours, just talking.’ A wistful look came over her eyes. ‘We never talk like that now. In fact, we hardly talk at all unless it’s about you and Dan, what we’re having for tea or the latest darn plant that’s springing up in the garden.’

  We talk all the time, Meg thought, remembering the Sunday mornings she and Oliver had sat up in bed, drinking coffee and talking about their week; the conversations as they’d eaten breakfast in the week that had often seen one of them stopping mid-sentence and saying, ‘God, I’m late,’ giving the other a quick k
iss and dashing out of the door, coat half on; the evenings they’d sat down to watch a film and missed half of it because they’d been chatting about their day. It seemed that Mum and Dad used to be like that too. If she and Oliver decided to get back together and have a child, maybe they’d be like her parents as they grew older. Only Oliver would probably be the resentful one, the one who thought he’d missed out on life because Meg had blackmailed him into having a child and then he hadn’t been able to do the things he’d wanted to do. Because it was emotional blackmail in a way, wasn’t it? Have a child or we’ll split up. She hadn’t looked at it like that before.

  It isn’t so much that he doesn’t want a child but that he didn’t tell me until now, she reminded herself. If only he’d been honest in the beginning… then what? Would she have still married him? Meg thought this over and she honestly didn’t know. Yet she loved Oliver so much. Should he be enough for her, as he had said? What if she was the one who didn’t want a child, but Oliver did? I would have told him right away, she thought, and set him free to find someone he could have a family with, and be happy with, if that’s what he wanted.

  Was it what she wanted?

  ‘Penny for them,’ Mum said softly.

  Meg briefly relayed her thoughts. ‘Oliver said that if I loved him, he should be enough for me. That we came together as two people, not three or four, and our relationship should be the most important thing.’ She raised her knees and wrapped her arms around them. ‘Am I being selfish?’

  Mum picked up the thermos flask and poured some hot coffee into a mug, handed it to Meg, then poured herself one. ‘It’s not as simple as one of you being selfish, Meg. You both want different things out of life, so one of you is going to have to compromise to make the other one happy. That’s what I feel like I’ve been doing all my life, and maybe your dad feels like that too. For one person to be happy the other one sometimes has to make sacrifices. You have to ask yourself if your relationship is worth those sacrifices.’

  ‘Oliver obviously doesn’t think it is. And, actually, I don’t want him to make a sacrifice. I don’t want to make a sacrifice either. If he doesn’t want a baby, I don’t want him to pretend he does, or to have one just for me. I think it’s best if we set each other free to live our lives how we want to. Although I wish we didn’t have to,’ she added sadly.

  ‘Which is exactly how I feel about your dad. I don’t want to change him. I just want to be me.’ Mum raised her cup. ‘To being us!’

  Meg raised her cup and they clicked them together. ‘To us.’

  Talking to her mum had made Meg’s mind clearer. It definitely was best for her and Oliver to part. There was no going back from this. Okay, maybe she would never have a child anyway – she certainly wasn’t in a rush to get into a relationship with someone else and start a family – but that wasn’t the point.

  ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see. We’ll get through this,’ Sally said, squeezing Meg’s hand.

  Yes, we will, Meg thought, because like her mum, she wanted to live her life not waste it.

  She looked out to sea and saw a boat bobbing about it.

  ‘We should go for a boat ride,’ she said impulsively. ‘Do you think we’ll be able to hire one out in the winter?’

  ‘We’ll ask Rose – she’ll know,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll phone her.’

  Rose did know. Her younger brother had a boat and took people across the bay in it during the summer months. She was sure that he was more than willing to take them out for half an hour for a very reasonable fee. She said she’d message him and arrange it then replied ten minutes later to say that Rory would be waiting at the harbour for them in an hour; she attached a photo of Rory standing by a blue and white motorboat. ‘The boat’s called Seaspray,’ she told them.

  When they’d finished their picnic, Meg and Sally made their way back down the Cragg to meet Rory. He was sitting on the deck of his boat and stood up when he saw them. A tall, sturdy man with a thick mop of salt-and-pepper hair, a full beard and moustache, he looked every inch a fisherman.

  ‘Hello, are you Rory?’ Sally asked. ‘Rose said you would take me and Meg, my daughter, for a ride across the bay in your motorboat.’

  ‘I certainly will.’ His face broke into a huge smile that reached right up to his eyes. ‘I must say though that most people want to go for a boat ride in the summer rather than mid-winter.’ His eyes flitted from one of them to the other. ‘You’re wrapped up well, mind, and it’s a mild day. Is it half an hour you’re wanting?’

  ‘Just across the bay and back,’ Sally told him.

  ‘Half an hour then.’ He took two orange life vests out of the boat and handed one to Sally and one to Meg. ‘Put these on and we’ll be off.’

  ‘You forgot to mention the price,’ Sally said.

  ‘Oh, a tenner will do it,’ Rory told her. ‘Here, let me fasten that.’ Sally had gotten in a bit of a tangle with the strings of her life vest. He sorted it out for her then turned to Meg, who had already tied hers. ‘I can see we’ve got an expert here,’ he said with a nod. ‘Let’s be going then.’

  As they crossed the bay in Rory’s motorboat, the wind gently blowing their hair, listening to Rory pointing out various landmarks and sights, and answering Mum’s constant questions, Meg felt calm, peaceful. I’ll get over Oliver, she realised, and I’ll be happy again.

  16

  Friday, 19 December

  Meg

  Meg spent most of Friday finishing off the big promo event she’d been dealing with while Sally had gone off shopping and to see Rose about the Christmas Fayre the next day.

  ‘I’m officially finished with work now until the second of January,’ she said when her mum returned.

  ‘That’s great.’ Sally carried the shopping bags into the kitchen and put them on the table. ‘I’ve asked Rose and Rory to join us for mince pies and mulled wine this evening. They share a cottage so I didn’t want to leave Rory out. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Meg told her, going over to help unpack the shopping.

  ‘I thought you wouldn’t.’ Mum smiled and held up a bag of flour. ‘Want to help me make the mince pies? Or the cakes for tomorrow?’

  Meg screwed up her nose. She wasn’t really into baking. ‘I’ll lick out the bowl,’ she offered.

  Sally laughed. ‘You and Dan always argued over that, didn’t you? I had to give you a spoon each and tell you both to keep to one side of the bowl.’

  ‘Yes, and Dan always sneaked a spoonful from my side.’ Meg chuckled. ‘We must have driven you mad, the things we used to argue over.’

  ‘Sometimes. But I wouldn’t swap either of you. Even if Dan can be bossy and shouted at me down the phone on Wednesday.’ Sally took a big bag of flour out of the shopping bag. ‘I’ll get started now, if that’s okay with you? Then it’ll all be cleared away in time for dinner.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Meg told her. ‘I’ll fetch my balloon kit out of the car and make up some animals for tomorrow. I’ll make a few different designs so that people have plenty to choose from.’

  As she walked back from the car, she bumped into Leo and Sam – dressed in his school uniform – just about to go into their house. Leo had obviously just picked him up from school.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Leo asked cheerily. ‘Mum said you’re both helping out at the Fayre tomorrow.’

  ‘Yep. Mum’s about to bake cakes as we speak, and I’m going to be making balloon animals to sell.’ She indicated the kit in her hands.

  ‘Really?’ Sam’s eyes were like saucers. ‘We saw a man making balloon animals when we were on holiday in Newquay last year, didn’t we, Dad? He made a dragon and a dinosaur. What can you make?’ he asked Meg.

  ‘Lots of things. Poodles, unicorns, dinosaurs and dragons, of course, snakes, monkeys. And I’ll do some Santas and reindeer seeing as it’s Christmas.’

  ‘Cool! Can I help?’

  Meg glanced at Leo, trying to gauge how he felt. He was probably planning
on Sam helping him with the games. She didn’t want him to be upset that Sam might prefer to make balloon animals with her. ‘I think your dad might need your help.’

  ‘Please, Dad!’ Sam begged.

  ‘It’s fine by me if Meg has time…’ Leo shot Meg a ‘do you mind?’ glance and she smiled.

  ‘I’d be glad of the help, if you’re sure. Blowing up those balloons isn’t easy! Why don’t you both come around later? Your mum and uncle are coming too.’ She was sure her mum wouldn’t mind the extra company.

  ‘That’d be great. We can get your opinion on some of the games we’re organising too,’ Leo said. ‘Shall we make it a couple of hours? Sam needs to get changed and have a bite to eat.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Meg agreed.

  * * *

  Mum had already started making the mince pies when Meg returned and didn’t mind at all when Meg told her that Leo and Sam would be joining them too. ‘I’ll make an extra batch of mince pies and leave the cake-baking until tomorrow,’ she said.

  Meg was looking forward to their guests. It’d be good to have some company. And it might stop her from thinking about Oliver.

  * * *

  It turned out to be a fun evening. Leo and Sam had decided to organise games of Hook the Snowman, Reindeer Hoopla and Santa Skittles and wanted to try them out. There was a lot of laughter as they all played the games, so much that Meg didn’t hear the door knock at first. She glanced at the clock – nine thirty. Perhaps it was carol singers. Leaving Mum and Rory competing with each other to win Hook the Snowman, she went to answer the door. And there, on the doorstep, was her dad, a holdall in his hand.