Chapter 29
“I can do these by myself,” said Bridge, filling up the bowl with water and dish soap. “Why don’t you go and rest by the fire, Charlie.”
“I insist,” he said. “Now, do you want to wash or dry?”
“I’ll dry,” said Bridge, going over to the drawer for a clean tea towel. A “Yorkshire Dictionary” one this time. It was like a different language, she thought, reading it until Charlie had given her something to dry.
“So when are you going to tell Luke that you’re still in love with him?” Charlie asked, sponging potato from the first plate.
Bridge’s attention snapped to him. “What?”
“You heard. When are you—”
“You’re right, I did hear,” said Bridge, her tone almost defensive, “but I’m not.”
“I can spot a fake a mile off,” said Charlie with a soft, knowing smile.
“Sorry?”
Charlie reached for Bridge’s left hand, lifted it as if he were a prince about to kiss it.
“I can spot a fake a mile off. I can smell one, in fact, I’m that good,” he said, tapping her engagement ring. “That’s not a diamond. It didn’t fool me and you don’t either. Now, you’re not to type to wear a fake diamond on your hand, so what does that tell me? That you’re here to sign divorce papers but you don’t want to, and so you’re hiding behind this ring.”
Bridge snatched her hand away. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s get these plates done.”
Charlie dunked another plate into the water, put it on the drain board, and Bridge picked it up and began to dry it. Another plate and another. Then Bridge broke the silence.
“Ben’s my neighbor. He’s a wonderful man. He’s in his late fifties, unmarried, writes Midnight Moon romances under the pen name Benita Summers for a living. He writes them surprisingly well, considering he’s never been romantically interested in women, or men for that matter. He considers himself quite lucky, being oddly free of that complication, he says. He’s beyond kind, a true friend, and I adore him. That’s his happy place in life: friendship. He shops for retirees, looks after people’s cats when they’re on vacation, and makes shepherd’s pies for his screwed-up neighbor when he thinks she’s too thin.”
“Ah,” said Charlie, not missing a beat as he rinsed the suds from a mug.
“I haven’t gone into a lot of detail about him, so I don’t trip myself up with any lies. Most of what I’ve told Luke is true; that he’s clever and funny and caring, and he is. Sadly, Ben and I will break off our ‘engagement’ soon, before our wedding plans get too much underway.”
“But, my dear Bridge, why even invent a fiancé?” asked Charlie.
“I don’t know, pride, I suppose. Luke had someone serious and I hadn’t. I didn’t want him to think I was unlovable.” She smiled a sad smile, kept her eyes lowered.
“You’re very lovable, Bridge. If I weren’t a married gay man, I should be courting you with diamonds.”
Bridge hiccupped a laugh, wiped a rogue tear from the corner of her eye with the heel of her hand.
“Luke is, too,” said Charlie. “I imagine once you have loved him, it would be very hard to unlove him, wouldn’t it?”
“Luke and I aren’t good for each other. We don’t work. We had great sex, but it came at too high a price. He and Carmen sound amazing together.”
Charlie nudged her shoulder.
“Cupid’s a little bastard sometimes, isn’t he?”
Bridge laughed. “Yes, he’s a total wanker.”
“You and Luke, Jack and Mary. One of you with a golden arrow stuck in you, the other one he’s pinged full of lead.”
“I want what you and Robin have,” said Bridge. “Nothing less.”
“I’ve been lucky,” said Charlie. “I had to kiss a lot of frogs, though, before I met my prince. One who’s been barking, ‘Cholesterol!’ at me for years.” He tutted then, affectionately so. “I’m going to miss him, but I hope I have a lot of time to wait until he joins me.”
Bridge folded, and Charlie opened up his arms and wrapped them around her: he felt the weight of her head against his breastbone and tears seeping through his shirt.
“A new year’s around the corner, it’ll bring some magic, I promise you, Bridge. And no more need for fakery. Just you wait and see.”
“Fancy a game of something, Mary?” asked Jack, tapping her on the shoulder as she stood by the window, her brain miles away from her body.
“Er, yeah, okay. Buckaroo?” she suggested. She didn’t have the mindset for chess at the moment.
“Okay. I’ve never played it before, you’ll have to show me what to do.”
Mary brought over the box from the pile of games on the floor by the Christmas tree and set it on a table by the window. She took out the mule, pressed down its hind legs and attached the plastic saddle onto its back. It struck her how calm she was: emotionally distancing herself from Jack was liberating; she wasn’t second-guessing what he might have thought about her choosing Buckaroo over something far more mature. Her second choice would have been Snap.
“We have to take it in turns to hang things on the hooks. The person who overloads the mule and he bucks, loses the game,” she explained.
“Right. You go first. Show me how it’s done.”
Had Mary looked at him then, she would have seen something new in his eyes, something sparkling and hopeful and slightly scared, but she didn’t.
She picked up the coiled rope and carefully attached it to the saddle.
“This looks easy,” said Jack, who duly hung the spade and the mule bucked. It startled him enough for him to jump. “Cripes, not as easy as it looks, is it?”
“You have to sneak up on him,” said Mary. “He’s lazy, he doesn’t want to carry anything.”
“I see. Okay, one–nothing to you, then.”
Mary reset the mule, chose the bedroll this time.
“I’m sorry about your Christmas present yesterday,” said Jack. The words came abruptly, as if his voice box had pushed them out before they had a chance to hurry back to where they were formed. “Everyone else’s presents were so inventive and personal.”
“It was nice,” said Mary. “It’s a nice planner. Handy. For a handbag.”
“I couldn’t think of what to wrap up for you. Well, for anyone, really. So whoever I picked out of the hat would have probably got the planner.”
That didn’t quite come out the way he’d expected it to. He should have said that he was terrible at picking presents so it might have been the easiest option, but for anyone else it wouldn’t have held the same meaning, it wouldn’t have symbolized their most excellent qualities as it did with her. Mary’s hand slipped and the mule bucked.
“One–all,” she said. She really was doing the right thing, said a voice in her head, one that was standing there, arms folded and head shaking slowly from side to side with disbelief.
“I mean—”
“Charlie’s book of life hacks was brilliant,” she spoke louder, cut off whatever useless crap he was going to come out with to mitigate what he had just said.
Jack picked up the pan and hung it carefully.
“Yes, I particularly liked, ‘Ships are safe in harbors, but that’s not why ships are built.’ It’s about comfort zones and reaching beyond them.”
Mary felt some heat in her cheeks, willed it to go away. Had he drawn the right conclusion from what she’d said last night when she’d been half asleep in front of the fire? Did he suspect that she planned to hand in her notice and take a job elsewhere?
“Why did you give Robin your bracelet? Was there a hidden meaning?”
“A friend gave it to me after my father passed; a reminder that whenever I needed someone to talk to, I should ring her and she’d be there for me.”
“And did she keep that promise?”
“She did. As I shall be there for Robin when he needs a friend.”
Jack smiled. “That’s incredibly generous of you, Mary. Such a thoughtful gift to give someone.”
She used to love the way he pronounced her name. It made her sound like a lady, a countess, someone who wore a crown.
“And thank you for the Christmas present you gave to me in the office; it was very kind of you,” he went on. “I haven’t opened it yet, so I don’t know what it is. It’s waiting at home. I was saving it for Christmas Day.”
She always took ages to find something to give to him for Christmas; this time she’d bought him a toiletry bag for overnight hotel stays. It was a mini hard-shell suitcase and had an atomizer for cologne, a soap pump, razor, nail clippers, scissors, a styptic pencil, even an emergency washcloth that folded into a tiny magic square of material. It was a gift perfectly matched to him.
“I hope you like it. It took me quite some time to find.” She couldn’t resist emphasizing the trouble she’d taken, the thought.
“Did you open your gift from me?”
“Yes, thank you.” Though the least said about that the better. She picked up the plastic guitar, added it to the mule’s load.
“Remind me, what… what did I buy you for Christmas?” said Jack then.
He couldn’t even remember. This decision to go was just getting easier and easier, thought Mary as Jack attached the gun holster to the saddle.
“A tartan shopping bag, a matching headscarf, and a box of jellied fruits,” she said, imbuing the words with contemptuous neutrality.
“What? Did I?” said Jack. His mind rewound to the conversation they’d all had about crap Christmas presents and how jellied fruits were right up there with worst of them. He swallowed. “What did I buy you last Christmas, can you remember?”
Did he go shopping in a trance? Mary wondered.
“Um… a folding rain hat and a colossal jar of mints,” she answered him.
“What?” His eyebrows were low, knotting in the middle. “And the year before?”
“A floral talcum powder trio and a box of clotted cream fudge.”
Jack visualized the presents as if they were laid out in front of him in all their frumpy glory. He let out a long breath of annoyance before speaking again. “I’ve never known what to buy you, Mary, so since you came to work for me, I’ve always asked Kimberley to choose your presents on my behalf. She said she knew what you’d like.”
Well, that explained it, thought Mary. Bloody Kimberley. She’d always had a chip on her shoulder and she’d climb over everyone to be first in the queue for the coveted position of Jack’s new PA as soon as it became vacant. It might have explained it, but it didn’t excuse it.
Mary picked up the dynamite, balanced it expertly.
“Your turn, Jack.”
She flicked her eyes up to him and he thought that they really were beautiful: the color of a blue lagoon with just a hint of green, with thick dark eyelashes. How could he have worked with her for so long and never noticed? How many other things had he missed from seeing only work in his line of vision? He was more of his father’s son than he wanted to be. He should have checked what Kimberley had bought and wrapped for Mary. Actually no, he should have chosen something himself for the woman who gave him the idea for vegan scones, who had the guts to tell him the ones he produced were awful, who reached out to him when his dad had died to comfort him, only for him to snub her, as his father would have done to a “silly young thing.”
“Mary, I promise you, I shall have some severe words with Kimberley when we get back to work. I don’t know what she was thinking of.”
He sounded cross, and she was sure he would take Kimberley to task, but she wouldn’t be there to see what she got for a present next year from him.
“Don’t even give it another thought,” said Mary sweetly.
“Gather round, everyone, we have a nice pot of tea for you all,” Charlie announced as Bridge followed him in with a tray and so called a halt to their game just as the mule kicked off Jack’s addition of the water-holding bag, which looked remarkably like the sort of frumpy shopping bag that Kimberley had bought for Mary.
They all sat around the fire, drinking tea and listening to Radio Brian, who was now offering tips on what to do with leftover Christmas food and booze.
“Who has leftover booze at Christmas?” said Robin. “We don’t, do we, Charlie.”
“Not so much as a dreg of Cherry B,” Charlie replied. “Talking of which, any cherries around?”
“I’ll get you one from the bar,” said Luke, and sprang up to bring him a cherry on a cocktail stick. Or two, as it happened.
Charlie popped them into his mug and Bridge made an “ugh” noise.
“My tablets play havoc with my taste buds,” he explained. “I’ve had some very weird cravings the past couple of weeks, haven’t I, Robin?”
“He has. I did wonder at one point if he might be pregnant,” replied Robin.
Mary didn’t say that the same thing had happened to her dad. He developed an obsession for bacon, burned to a crisp and dipped in vinegar. She didn’t say it because her dad was very near the end then. It was like a switch going on, weird cravings revving up. Gelatin cubes rolled in salt, toast slathered in mayonnaise. He didn’t even like mayonnaise usually.
“Whatever lights your candle, Charles,” said Luke.
“My wife and I like a turkey curry,” Radio Brian announced to them. “And my friend Malcolm makes frugal soup from the outer layer leaves that you strip off your sprouts. He says it’s delicious.”
“Malcolm sounds like a laugh a minute,” was Robin’s response to that.
“It’s minus two outside, but it will feel like minus ten,” said Radio Brian.
“All the more reason to stay within arm’s length of this glorious fire,” said Bridge.
Luke cast his eye toward the log basket. “I think we need some more wood from the shed.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Mary.
“You will not,” said Charlie. “Not while there are young, hunky men around.”
“This is the age of sexual equality, Charlie,” Mary said, wagging her finger.
Charlie wouldn’t have it, though.
“Women and men cannot be equal, there are too many biological differences. Men cannot bear children and women cannot grow beards.”
“I’ve been out with a few who could,” said Luke with a snort.
“All the lines are blurred these days, Charlie,” said Bridge. “Best not to stray into that territory.”
“Charlie is right from a propriety perspective,” said Jack. “I couldn’t sit here while a lady is braving the elements on my behalf. I’ll come with you, Luke.”
“Lady, eh?” said Bridge, quirking her eyebrow at Mary when Jack and Luke had gone out. Mary didn’t respond. It was just a word, it meant nothing.
Jack had to put his shoulder to the door of the woodshed because it appeared to have frozen in the jamb. It gave after the second mighty heave and Jack went flying through it and landed on the woodpile. “Yep, this is the way my day is going.” He sighed as Luke helped him up.
“Why’s that? I thought we were all having a good one.”
“I’ve been giving Mary probably the world’s worst Christmas presents. Headscarves and tartan shopping bags, old-lady toiletries, mints. And jellied fruits.”
“Good God, man, she’s twenty-five, not one hundred and five. Why did you buy her those?”
“I… er… actually I charged someone else with the task of buying something suitable for her,” he answered.
“Wow, what a bitch,” said Luke with a crooked grin of astonishment. “Why didn’t you just buy her something yourself? It’s not that hard, even if you’re the world’s crappiest present picker. A gift card never fails to hit the spot as a fail-safe.”
Because you’re your father’s son, that’s why, came an unwelcome voice in Jack’s head.
“And if you must know, I’m feeling awfully ashamed of myself where Mary is concerned. Quite a few things have come to light over the past few days.”
“Like what?”
“This is going to sound really bad.”
“Try me,” said Luke.
Jack took a deep breath. “I have patronized her,” he said with the same tone someone might have employed to confess that they had shagged a zebra.
Luke waited for more, and when nothing was forthcoming he waved his hands as if to encourage the “more” to come out.
“I’ve treated her as if she was a young woman who should really stick to what she was paid to do and not as someone with a brain capable of working outside the parameters of her job.”
“For instance?” asked Luke; the disclosure didn’t exactly shock him.
“Do you know, Luke, it was Mary’s idea that the company should make vegan scones? I remember thinking when she suggested it, ‘Thank you, but you’ll find I know more about all this than you do, and can you please ring the dry cleaner and ask if my suit is ready to be picked up.’ ”
“Yep, that really is patronizing,” said Luke, nodding.
Jack cringed. “Then vegan scones hit the market, were an absolute wow, and our head of product development said we should follow suit. We could have led, not followed, if I’d listened to Mary. But we weren’t too late, thank the Lord, and they were a massive hit… and I gave product development the credit for the idea.”
“Ouch,” said Luke.
“It gets better—or rather, worse. The vegan scones weren’t good enough at first and it was Mary, not the bakery team, who told me we needed to revisit the recipe. And she suggested we use red cheese instead of white so the cheese scones would look more obviously ‘cheesy,’ and that we make luxury short-life ranges exclusive to high-end stores. All of these were brilliant ideas.”
“All of these brilliant ideas from the mind of a young woman who shouldn’t be thinking outside her box?” Luke said. Jack couldn’t bear to see himself mirrored in those words.
“And there’s more…”
“You’re kidding,” said Luke, which didn’t help.
“I wasn’t as sympathetic as I could… should have been when her father died. I asked the same woman who bought the presents to inquire when Mary would be returning to work. I did tell her to say there was no rush, but it appears she left out that part of the email.”
“ ‘Bitch’ is too kind a word, I think.”
“Yes, quite. Then last year my own father died, and Mary was… was kindness itself. Held the fort while I was off.” He gave the front of his head a rub of angst. “I’ve just had the most awful, uncomfortable game of Buckaroo with her.”
Luke snorted, tried not to laugh, covered it up as a cough.
“I said all the wrong things. I can’t even repeat what I said about that bloody planner.” A growl of frustration. “Anyway, after our conversation last night I decided to take the bull by the horns and I went into Mary’s room and wrote in the planner that I’d like to take her out to dinner.”
“Blimey,” said Luke, knocked back by that. “I’m impressed.” And he was. Hardly the most direct approach, but for Jack it was leaps and bounds.
“Luke, over the past few days, I’ve felt as if I’m viewing Mary through other people’s eyes. Everyone likes her and respects her here, don’t they? And she’s such a lovely person. Why have I seen her and yet not seen her before?”
“You’re seeing her now,” said Luke, opening up a sack and starting to throw logs into it. “Better late than never.”
“I don’t want to be my father. I never realized until I came here how much I was like him. I don’t want to be that man.”
“Then don’t be him,” said Luke. “Simple as that.”
“I want what you have with Carmen and what Bridge has with her new man. I want to be as loved-up as Charlie and Robin. I want someone to smile at me the way they smile at each other.”
“Yep, it’s good. It’s worth having,” said Luke, and smiled at the thought of what he had with Carmen.
“I almost kissed Mary yesterday, you know, after we were carol singing. I looked at her in that huge coat and those ridiculous wellingtons and I wanted to pick her up and plant my lips on hers.”
“Then maybe you should have, Jack,” said Luke.
“I don’t know what she feels about me.”
“I don’t either,” replied Luke. It wasn’t his place to make it easy for him. Jack needed to learn firsthand from Charlie’s life advice that he should meet the requirements of his requirements. Everyone deserved as much.