‘What about this one?’
‘Yes, that’s lovely too, Mum.’
‘Why don’t you try something on?’
‘Not yet. I’ll find something closer to Christmas.’
‘It’ll be here before you know it.’
Her mother disappeared back into the changing room.
Grace was sitting on a small blue sofa outside the changing rooms of a department store, as Louise tried on several outfits she thought might be nice for Christmas. It was a tradition of theirs to find a new outfit for Christmas Day as well as one for Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve. It had been one of Louise’s many coping strategies after Sam had died. She said that they had to celebrate occasions in style, to make an effort to live life because that was what Sam would have wanted them to do.
And really, when Grace thought about it, life was mapped out by the occasions they celebrated. The days in between passed by, but the Friday night movie and popcorn, the Saturday night curry and wine, the Sunday dinner, the birthdays, weddings and festive periods, were what it all came down to. Without those markers of time, life would have just been a series of days. So Louise was right to insist upon keeping their little traditions going.
Christmas music drifted out from the speakers and tinsel shone everywhere she looked. The mannequins were decked out in Christmas jumpers, and Santa hats and Christmas trees positioned around the store featured the range of lights that the retail chain had for sale this year.
When they’d left the café earlier, Grace had still been giggling as Tom had been begging Oli to let him sit in the sticky chair. In his innocence, he’d thought Louise and then Grace had been stuck because the chair was covered in some adhesive substance. Oli had been trying not to laugh himself as he explained that Tom could sit in the chair, but might find that Louise had taken all the stickiness with her. This had led to Tom diving into the chair and bouncing up and down to test its stickiness. Grace hadn’t wanted to leave them, and it had been strange saying goodbye, because she’d sensed that Oli had more to say but circumstances and present company made it difficult for him. So they’d held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than would be expected from mere acquaintances, then Grace had turned and left the café. But at least she knew there was a chance she’d see him again soon. Especially seeing as how Tom had given her an opening by asking her to help them with the Christmas trimmings.
As the opening chords of Wham!’s Last Christmas floated out into the store, a memory flashed into her head, as vivid as if it had been yesterday. Grace and Sam, just five and six, sneaking carefully downstairs in the dawn light on Christmas Day, keen to see if Santa had been. They’d held hands, both trembling with excitement, and when they’d entered the living room of their family home, they’d paused, their mouths falling open in awe. Gifts had been piled on both of the sofas, their wrapping paper different – gold for Grace and silver for Sam – as well as under the tree. Grace had wanted to start tearing through the paper immediately to find out what was inside but Sam had cautioned her, wise even at six years old. He’d told her to wait for their parents to get up, because they’d want to see what Santa had brought too. As a compromise, he’d allowed her to sneeze loudly at the bottom of the stairs, and soon Louise and Simon had appeared, hair sticking out, bleary-eyed, but awake. And a wonderfully happy Christmas day had begun. Sam had always known how to do things to ensure that everyone enjoyed themselves. It was as if he had been born with that knowledge, as if he’d known from the outset that his life would be short, so he’d need to live every moment to the full and in the best way he could.
She wondered what he would think about Oli. Then she cringed. She couldn’t believe that they’d been rescued by Oli in the café. What a coincidence that he’d come in just as they were stuck on the squishy seat. And she’d been a giggling mess sprawled on top of her mother. What must he have thought of her?
And what about the thing he’d said about tickling? Every time she thought about it and the way his breath had gently caressed her neck as he’d whispered into her ear, she tingled all over. Did Oli want to get to know her better? Her body certainly wanted to get to know him even if her mind was trying to reason with her.
Sometimes she wished she could just switch off her mind like she could a set of flashing fairy lights. It would be nice to stop thinking, just for an hour or two. Writing did that for her by distracting her, but when she wasn’t writing, it was as if her brain offered up an open house to all and sundry ponderings and the subsequent disquiet they could cause.
‘Grace?’
‘Oh, that’s gorgeous!’
Louise did a slow turn and the purple sequins on the tunic top sparkled.
‘It really suits you.’
‘Right, I’ll get this one then.’
‘You should.’
‘And the black silk trousers?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Your father will have a fit at the price tag.’
‘Well, he should have come to keep an eye on your spending then. Anyway, Mum, they can be my treat.’
‘Nonsense! What else has your dad got to spend his money on?’
Grace shrugged. She often thought the same thing about her own money. She earned a good wage from her writing and had plenty saved up for a rainy day. Perhaps it was time to start spending some of it, because as she well knew, and as Sam would have reminded her, life was for living and tomorrow is not guaranteed.
Grace tucked her arm into her mother’s as they walked through the compact streets. The UK’s most southerly city reminded her a bit of Cardiff with its variety of shops, its cosmopolitan feel and fascinating architecture. The city was dominated by the cathedral with its gothic towers that reached up into the winter sky, and she kept finding her eyes drawn to them, wondering what they had seen and heard in their time above the city in the heart of Cornwall.
They passed wonderful Christmas window displays that sparked a frisson of childish excitement in Grace. One, in a card shop window, featured a life-size sleigh complete with six reindeer and a jolly Santa Claus who faced outwards towards the street as if looking for all the well-behaved children. Another, in a shoe shop, had a wide range of shoes and boots in every shade of red, propped up in fake snow. Grace rarely wore heels but she had to admit that the red stilettos on show were very appealing, and she was even tempted to go in and try them on. Her favourite display was that of a lighting shop, where lights in a variety of shapes hung from wooden beams suspended from the ceiling. There were intricately detailed hearts that glowed from within, gingerbread men with red and green glowing buttons, miniature Christmas trees adorned with tiny colourful lights and snowmen with glowing smiles and illuminated hats and scarves.
As well as the shops, Truro boasted fancy coffee houses, trendy cocktail bars and inviting ice cream parlours. The aromas that seeped out onto the streets were mouth-watering and even though Grace had eaten breakfast and a Bakewell tart, she could easily have gone into one of the venues and eaten more. The Cornish air and appreciation of good food were certainly rousing her appetite.
Everywhere she looked, she saw happy families: parents and children were smiling and chatting excitedly about the approaching festivities and what gifts they needed to buy. For a moment, Grace was hit by a wave of frustration. She would never have that, never have her own children to enjoy Christmas with. It just wasn’t possible. But then her thoughts strayed to her mother and she squeezed her arm tighter. Louise had had that, once, a long time ago. And lost it. She’d never have grandchildren and never know the excitement of seeing Sam or Grace’s children as they opened their gifts or enjoyed their Christmas dinner.
‘You okay, Mum?’
‘Yes, love, why?’
‘I was just thinking about the things that we’ll never have. Not meaning to bring you down, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore it.’
Louise nodded. ‘I know. But I try to think instead of what we do have and what we once had. I’m luckier than so many people. I had a wonderful son, and I still have a beautiful daughter and a loving husband. Many never have that. So even though I lost Sam, at least I had him for as long as I did. I’m not saying that I’ve never considered what I’d sacrifice to have him back, because I’m only human, but I know that’s not possible and that life has to go on. Besides, you could still have a husband and a family. If you wanted it.’
‘We’ve talked about this, Mum, and it’s not going to happen.’
Louise shook her head. ‘Never say never, Grace. If you meet the right man and he wants to have a family with you, then it’s something you may well consider then.’
‘And go through what you and Dad did?’ Grace shuddered. ‘I just couldn’t bear it.’
‘I’d go through it all again just to have Sam for the time I did. Look at what light and laughter he brought with him.’
‘He did bring so much love.’ Grace swallowed hard. Perhaps she was being unfair on her parents by being so adamant that children were not on her horizon; the risks were so great, that it was more than she could imagine opening herself up to at any point in the future. But she didn’t know if she was strong enough to take those chances or to expose her parents to more heartache. It was far safer to stay single and not to want what she could not have. Besides, not everyone had to have a husband and children; sometimes life just took a different course.
‘Ah there’s that cookery shop I wanted to go into. Come on, let’s see if we can find your father the deep muffin tin he’s wanted since he saw it on TV.’
‘Okay.’ Grace nodded, glad of the diversion because cakes were always a good distraction.
Oli had taken the children into Truro after getting the boxes down from the attic, because he’d needed to give himself a breather. Not because he was physically tired, but because of the emotional wear and tear it had caused him.
He’d suggested they go for a milkshake and cake, got them both into their warm coats and hats, and into the Land Rover. Then he’d driven away from Conwenna, not really sure where he was going. He’d ended up in Truro, as if guided there by some mystical force; although he now suspected it had something to do with remembering that Grace had mentioned a Christmas shopping trip with her mother. So, when he’d taken the children into Espresso Yourself, and seen Grace and her mother in hysterics, unable to get out of the squishy chair, he’d been delighted.
Helping Grace to get up had been quite an experience. He’d needed to take hold of her waist and to lift her to prevent her from sticking a knee or an elbow into Louise. In his arms, just as she had when they’d danced at Amy’s party, Grace had been warm, soft and smelt so good, he’d been tempted to bury his face in her neck right then and there just to inhale her gorgeous scent.
He knew now, for sure, that being around Grace was having a strange effect upon him. He’d been immune to women, disinterested in their charms for what felt like a lifetime, and now one redheaded, blue-eyed beauty had walked into his world and he just couldn’t get her out of his mind. It was a little unsettling, but also rather welcome as he knew that he could feel alive, that parts of him that had been numb for so long did still want to work. And they wanted to work with Grace. He’d had to force all wicked thoughts from his mind as he’d drunk a coffee, and listened to Amy and Tom debate the merits of strawberry versus banana milkshake. But try as he might, he couldn’t prevent himself from imagining what it would be like to kiss her, to delve his tongue into her mouth and taste her, then…
‘Daddy, shouldn’t you be straightening the branches?’
He blinked hard and realized that he was standing in front of the old Christmas tree, and staring absently out of the front window of his cottage at the pale winter horizon. After the milkshake, he’d decided it was best to get on with the decorations rather than put them off, so here they were trying to make the tree look respectable.
‘Oh!’ He met Amy’s bright eyes. ‘Yes, indeed. I drifted off there.’
She frowned at him and folded her arms.
‘What were you thinking about?’
‘Uh… about how this tree is quite old and we should probably have picked up a new one.’
‘But I like this tree. Mummy chose it.’
‘I know she did.’
‘So we should keep it.’
‘Yes… of course.’
He began straightening the branches, unfolding them from the position they’d been in since last January when he’d packed them away. The musty smell of Christmases gone by assaulted him, and he struggled against the wave of emotion, breathing through his mouth to avoid the memories.
He wondered if the tree lights still worked and realized that he should have checked them too – before they’d left – because he could have picked up some replacements. But it was too late now; if they didn’t work, they’d have to manage until next weekend when he’d have a chance to go and buy some more.
‘Daddy?’
‘Yes?’ He braced himself for another tree comment.
‘How is the cat doing?’
‘The cat?’
‘Yes… the one with the kittens.’
He stopped what he was doing and turned to his daughter.
‘She’s doing well.’
‘Oh, good.’
Amy’s cheeks turned red.
‘Is everything all right, Amy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Daddy.’
‘Is there anything you want to tell me? Do you know something about the cat and the kittens?’
Amy hung her head. ‘No.’
‘Amy?’
‘I said no, Daddy! I just wanted to know if she was okay because the kittens need her.’
‘Okay…’ He decided to leave it for now, but he suspected that Amy might know something about the cat that she hadn’t shared with him.
Ten minutes later, he stood in front of the tree with a very disappointed Amy and Tom. And there was nothing as harsh as disappointed children at Christmas time.
‘Oh, guys, I’m so sorry.’
Amy shook her head, then folded her arms across her chest. ‘Why don’t they work, Daddy?’
‘The bulbs must have blown or the fuse has gone… and I don’t think I have any new ones here.’
Tom’s lip wobbled. ‘I liked those lights, Daddy.’
‘I know.’
Oli felt like the worst dad in the history of the world. Why hadn’t he thought to check the damned lights? Linda would have done so. Probably before the children even got up that morning. Wouldn’t she?
‘Look, let’s have some lunch then we could go back out.’
‘What, more shopping?’ Tom groaned.
‘Well, if you want lights on the tree today then we’ll have to.’
‘But I wanted to watch that Christmas film,’ Tom whined.
Oli sighed. He could ring his father and ask him to watch the children, but he didn’t like to keep asking for favours. Paul had Maxine now and she’d already worked the morning at the surgery, feeding and cleaning out the cat and kittens as well as their other two weekend resident dogs who’d come in for treatment. His father deserved to have some peace and quiet with his girlfriend. So there was no one else he could ask, was there?
Just then, there was knocking at the door.
‘Who’s that?’ Amy asked, her eyes wide. ‘Are we expecting anyone?’
Oli bit his lip, again amazed by how mature she sounded.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You two have a look through that box of decorations to see if there’s anything you want to use and I’ll go see who it is.’
He headed out into the hallway and ran his hands through his hair. When they’d got home, he’d slung on an old pair of jogging bottoms that hung low on his hips because the elastic was stretched and a faded grey t-shirt that was a bit clingy after he’d accidentally boiled it. But he hadn’t been expecting company and hadn’t wanted to wear decent clothing to go through dusty old boxes.
And now someone was knocking at the door.
He opened it slowly, trying to hide his bottom half with the door, and peered outside.
‘Oli? Hi, sorry to arrive unannounced but I uh…’ Grace’s eyes roamed over him and he felt his cheeks flush. She was probably wondering why he was hiding behind the door. ‘Sorry am I interrupting something?’
‘No, no.’ He opened the door properly. ‘Of course not. I was just sorting through our old Christmas decorations. Which is why I’m dressed like this.’ He gestured at himself and Grace looked him up and down again. She must think he looked like a sack of potatoes.
‘You look… uh… fine.’ She smiled and her eyes sparkled. The tip of her nose was pink and there were two matching spots on her cheeks. As she spoke, her breath emerged like smoke in the icy air.
‘Wow, I’m so sorry. I should invite you in. It’s getting colder out there.’
‘Oh, it’s okay!’ She waved a hand. ‘I just wanted to see if you wanted these.’ She held up two carrier bags. ‘My parents were going through their old Christmas stuff and they thought you might want some of these decorations and lights for the children. Tom said earlier that you were going to be decorating and…’
‘Oh. Right. Of course he did.’
‘Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Of course you don’t want these. That seems awful doesn’t it, pushing old trimmings and lights onto you.’
‘Actually,’ he said, reaching for her arm and pulling her gently inside, ‘you’re a lifesaver. I was just surprised that you’d turned up like some beautiful guardian angel, when I was having a complete crisis.’
He closed the door and relieved her of the bags then set them down on the hallway floor.
‘Crisis?’ She frowned.
‘Here, take your hat and coat off and come on through.’ She did as Oli suggested and he took her coat and hung it on the stand behind the front door. It smelt of Grace, her signature perfume with its vanilla and cherry blossom combination, a scent that made his heart beat faster. She handed him her hat and he put it on top of her coat. ‘Yes, see, I put the tree up then got the lights ready, actually spent ages untangling them, then found that they don’t bloody work. So I’ve two very disappointed children in there and I’m currently a contender for Worst Daddy in Cornwall.’
‘Is that an actual competition then?’ Her lips twitched.
‘Yes, didn’t you know? Here in Cornwall we like to celebrate all things disappointing.’
‘Well, I don’t think you need to worry. That’s hardly a terrible thing to do, is it?’
‘You obviously don’t have children.’
He smiled, but his stomach dropped to the wooden floor as he saw her expression change.
‘Oh god, I’ve said the wrong thing haven’t I? I’m so, so sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘It’s okay. You’re not the first to mention it and you certainly won’t be the last.’
‘Really?’ He reached out and placed his hand on her arm. His heart was thudding now, as he really didn’t want to upset her. The smile she’d freely offered him when she’d arrived, a smile that had brightened his day, had been replaced by an air of sadness that made him want to gather her in his arms and hold her tight. He wanted to make it all better for her.
He looked at his hand, where it held her arm, their skin separated only by her black sleeve, and instantly pulled away. Whenever he was around Grace, he found himself wanting to touch her and sometimes doing it without being fully aware of it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘Really. It’s fine.’ She smiled again, but her eyes showed that she wasn’t in the same frame of mind as she had been.
Oli resolved to try to bring her real smile back, the one that lit her up from within and made him want to watch her smiling all day long.
‘So what’s in the bags?’
Just then, there was a loud scream.
‘Hold that thought!’
He hurried through to the living room and gasped. Amy and Tom were standing on the sofa, their cheeks red and their faces scrunched up in fury as they tugged something red and white between them. Tom was growling like a small feral animal and Amy was puce-faced and crying.
‘What are they fighting over?’ Grace asked, as she peered around Oli.
‘I have no idea. KIDS! What are you doing? You two don’t fight like this. Not ever.’
Amy turned her watery eyes to him. ‘It’s mine, Daddy, tell him.’
‘Amy…’ Oli suppressed the urge to tell her that she was much older than Tom, and should therefore be more sensible as she was clearly distressed. ‘I can’t see what it is.’
And with that there was the sound of old material tearing and his children collapsed onto the sofa, each one holding half of the offending object. Amy burst into fresh tears, and Tom wailed as if he’d just kicked a brick with no shoes on.
Oli went over to Tom and opened his hands gently then lifted the object up. It was a stuffed Santa toy that Linda had made years ago, the Christmas Amy was born if he remembered correctly. The material was ripe with age and smelt of damp, even though it had been wrapped in plastic and the attic was dry enough to store things.
He then took the other half from Amy. The Santa grinned up at him, unaware that it had just been torn apart.
‘Oh kids, you mustn’t fight. Look what happens.’
He shook his head.
‘Let me have it, Daddy, I can sew it back together,’ Amy held out her hands. Her bottom lip trembled and she had mascara smudges down her cheeks.
‘I don’t think you can, sweetheart. I think he’s had better days.’
‘But Mummy made it…’ She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Oli turned to Grace and shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s got into them.’
‘Christmas can be an emotional time,’ she whispered. ‘Let me have a look at that and see what I can do.’
He handed her the Santa then went to the sofa and sat down. He opened his arms and Amy snuggled into his chest, her tears instantly soaking his t-shirt.
‘Tom, do you want to show me where you have a pair of scissors and some cotton?’ Grace asked.
Tom looked up at Oli.
‘I think there’s some in the kitchen drawer.’
‘You have one of those too?’
‘Sorry?’ He smoothed Amy’s hair back from her hot face.
‘A drawer. The magic one where everything is stored.’
‘Oh… yes. Have to have a drawer.’
‘Come with me then, Tom.’
As Grace left the room, Oli rocked his daughter in his arms. For all that she sometimes seemed so mature, she was still just a little girl and one who’d lost her mum. He thought she held up so well, but at times like these, which didn’t happen often, he was reminded that she was still trying to work her way through her own grief. It was inevitable that she’d miss her mum and want to keep things that reminded her of Linda. Perhaps it was time now to get some of Linda’s belongings down for his children to sort through. They had a right to remember their mother as vividly as possible, and he had a responsibility to help them with that. It was just so damned tough trying to get it all right for them, and he worried that he’d do the wrong thing or make their pain worse.
He could hear Grace’s voice floating in from the kitchen and her gentle tones were soothing to him as well as to Tom, who replied and even laughed.
Well, this certainly wasn’t the best way to get to know a woman better but then that was single fatherhood. Oli came as a package deal and the days of taking a woman out and wooing her with fine food and wine, then perhaps a night of passionate lovemaking were long gone. He was a father first and foremost and that would surely scare a lot of women away.
He just hoped that Grace wasn’t one of those women.
But he had a feeling that she had more about her than that.