What Happens At Christmas... Page 15

  Holly pointed to the corner of the room. ‘No presents round the tree?’

  ‘There’s only me. Not a lot of point giving myself a present.’ For a moment, his smile slipped and she glimpsed something underneath. Unmistakably, in contrast to his normal outward appearance of good cheer, it was more like sorrow.

  ‘Are you going to see your family? Where did you say your dad was? Bristol?’

  He nodded. ‘My brother and his family are there with him now. They’re leaving on Boxing Day and then I’ll take over for a few days.’ His smile was back on his face now. ‘That way he gets company for longer and I get a whole turkey to myself.’

  ‘No Dolores?’ She had to be sure.

  ‘Would you stop trying to marry me off to Dolores, please. No, no Dolores.’

  Holly was heartened. ‘You shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.’ She was thinking fast. She was sure Julia and her parents wouldn’t mind if she just dropped Julia off at their house on Christmas Day and headed straight back to Brookford in time for lunch. She pointed her finger at him severely. ‘In fact, I forbid it. As it happens, I’m also going to be on my own at Christmas, so you are hereby formally invited next door for Christmas lunch. No excuses accepted.’

  ‘Actually I was going to invite you. I owe you.’

  ‘Why do you owe me? You’ve given me breakfast, brought me wine to drink, and you took me out for lunch the other day.’

  He caught her eye. ‘Not that a mushroom omelette and a mug of tea qualifies as a particularly extravagant date. Anyway, I should explain. Your dad and I used to take it in turns to have Christmas lunch together. Last year Christmas was at his place, that’s now your place. This year it should be here. It’s only fair. That’s the tradition.’

  Holly took a moment before replying. ‘Well, we can fight about it over the next few days, but the principle is established. We eat together at Christmas. Now, what about a tree?’

  Jack glanced at his watch. ‘Leave it to me. I’m playing squash in Moreton at five. One of the guys at the squash club grows Christmas trees. I’ll give him a call. I’ll ask him to drop it round to you early evening, or if he can’t, I’ll bring it home when I come. OK?’

  When Holly got back home, she checked the time. She had a couple of hours free before having to start getting ready for her dinner date with Justin so she decided to carry on reading her father’s letters. She went into the lounge and was just reaching into the box when a thought struck her and she paused. It was a bit tenuous, but if she considered the breakfast at Jack’s house the day of the power cut, the mushroom omelette on the north Devon coast, the wine and cheese snack the previous night and the tea with him now, she had already had four sort-of-dates with Jack. That was a rather scary thought, but not as scary as the realisation that she was really looking forward to a fifth, sixth and seventh. Something weird was going on all right and she wasn’t sure she could explain it. Under normal circumstances she would have dropped him like a hot coal after the first couple of dates, but not now. Did this mean that her fear of commitment, or so Julia had often described it, was on the wane? She shook her head and turned her attention to the box of envelopes.

  After the extra long letter on her eighteenth birthday, the remainder were shorter again until she reached December 2008. By this time, he was writing to her, adult to adult, no longer aiming the content at a little child. In fact, the last few letters had been full of his fears for the world economy in the wake of the banking crisis. Now, however, he wrote about something very different. For the first time since his letter on her eighteenth birthday, he wrote about his second wife.

  My dearest Holly

  I can hardly put pen to paper for grief. My beloved Lynda is no more. She passed away two weeks ago and I find myself alone on the other side of the world, far from my only other true love. I miss her so much, Holly and I miss you so much.

  The letter continued in different ink, presumably written at a later time.

  It’s taken me so many years, but I’ve finally decided the time has come. I’m going to come back to England and I’m going to come to see you. I fear, deep down, that you’ll hate me and not want to speak to me, but it’s something I know I have to do.

  He went on to detail the plans for his visit to Britain and the family home for the first time in more than a decade, in the hope of seeing his beloved daughter. His tone was abjectly apologetic that it had taken him so long to summon up the courage to act and, at the same time, it was clear that he was very apprehensive at the reception he was likely to receive.

  And so, in February 2009, he returned to Britain. In his letter written in March that year, he described how he had made his way to the old family home in Cheltenham. Holly realised that by then, she was already living and working in London and wouldn’t have been there. Unannounced, he turned up on the doorstep and rang the bell. Holly’s mother recognised him immediately and gave him a frosty reception, refusing to let him in the house, even threatening to call the police if he didn’t leave. He handed over a package for Holly, containing a letter and a small nugget of Australian gold, and then he left. He never tried again.

  Holly read the letter twice and then folded it and returned it to its envelope. Her cheeks were wet and her heart was thumping. She had found a misshapen lump of gold-coloured metal in her mother’s house that spring, when she had had the painful task of clearing her belongings after her death. She had almost thrown it away, but it was now in a box, somewhere in one of the overcrowded cupboards in her London flat. She sat back on the sofa and breathed deeply. She could understand and forgive her mother almost everything, but not this. In February 2009, Holly would have been twenty-six. She should have been informed of her father’s attempt to contact her. Her grief was replaced by another wave of anger that she struggled to control.

  Finally she glanced at her watch and saw that it was a quarter to seven. Justin would be here in three quarters of an hour and she still had to take the dog out for a quick walk. She got up and hurried out to the kitchen.

  The front doorbell rang at twenty-five past seven. Holly had just finished getting ready, a trail of discarded clothes and towels lying all over the floors upstairs. She had pinned her hair up this evening and chosen to wear a little black dress, along with her best pair of Alexander McQueen heels. Although she was quite sure by now that this was no date, she had always enjoyed dressing up and she felt pretty sure the sort of place Justin would be taking her would be posh. She walked over to the door, conscious that her heels made her sound reminiscent of Stirling on the flagstone floor. She opened the door and found herself confronted by a tree.

  ‘Good evening, madam. You ordered a Christmas tree.’ It was Jack and he had brought a lovely bushy fir tree for her. She found herself beaming at him.

  ‘Oh, Jack, that’s marvellous. How much do I owe you?’ He carried the tree in through the door and set it down in the corner of the room. Stirling, seeing his good buddy, leapt out of his basket to greet him.

  ‘I’ll put in on your tab.’ He ruffled the dog’s ears. ‘A word of warning; it might be worth putting some sort of barrier round the tree for now, until you can pot it up, in case our four-legged friend here decides to pee on it or tear it apart.’ He suddenly became aware of what she was wearing. He stepped back and did a double-take. ‘Wow! Are you going out on a date? You look gorgeous.’

  ‘She certainly does. Good evening Holly. You really do look fantastic.’ She looked back over her shoulder to the open door. Justin was standing on the threshold, smiling. Holly glanced back at Jack and suddenly wished the ground could open up and swallow her. She took a deep breath and gave Justin a brilliant smile.

  ‘Hi, Justin. Jack’s just brought me a Christmas tree.’

  ‘Hi, Justin. How’re you doing?’ Jack sounded quite normal and Holly began to calm down. She caught his eye.

  ‘Thanks ever so much for bringing the tree, Jack.’

  ‘No worries.’ He gave her a smile. ‘Enjoy your eveni
ng out, you guys.’

  ‘I’m sure we will. Good to see you, Jack.’ Justin stepped aside to let him out into the night. He pushed the door closed and walked across to Holly. He took her hand and twirled her round. ‘You do look absolutely gorgeous. Jack was right.’

  ‘It’s good to see you Justin.’ And it was, although it was going to take a bit of time for her pounding heart to slow down and her glowing cheeks to return to a more normal colour. What, she thought to herself, was Jack going to think – seeing her apparently going on a date with Justin, even though she knew full well it wasn’t? And, anyway, what did it matter what he thought? It wasn’t as if he had indicated any particular interest in her anyway. She felt hot, bothered and confused. She set about arranging some kitchen chairs around the tree, to protect it against any possible assault from the dog. This displacement activity helped her start to regain her equilibrium. ‘So, remind me what’s happening tonight.’

  ‘Now that I see you dressed in all your finery, I’m beginning to think I should have chartered a plane and whisked you off to Paris or Rome, but, as it stands, the reservation’s at the Bricklayer’s Arms just outside Moreton.’ He grinned at her. ‘Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as the Tour d’Argent, does it?’

  ‘The Bricklayer’s Arms sounds delightful. Just bear with me for a minute or two while I sort Stirling out. I’ll be right with you.’ Holly put the finishing touches to the barricade and set about preparing the dog’s evening meal. Hastily, she set the bowl down on the floor, turned on the television and picked up her coat.

  ‘Normally people turn the TV off, before they go out, not on.’ Justin was smiling as he opened the door for her.

  ‘Stirling’s been taking a keen interest in current affairs recently. I like to humour him.’ She smiled at Justin. He was looking very handsome and very smart in a dark blue jacket and white shirt. ‘Bricklayer’s Arms, here we come.’

  The Bricklayer’s Arms, while not the Tour d’Argent, was a very stylish place. Holly was surprised to find, inside the traditional Devon exterior, an ultramodern symphony of steel and glass, black and purple table cloths and limed oak flooring. The staff were all immaculately dressed in black, and the music of Santana was playing in the background.

  ‘Not a bricklayer in sight.’ She gave Justin a smile as they were shown to a table in the corner, alongside a window looking out onto a floodlit Zen garden. Rugged lumps of granite dotted an expanse of immaculately-raked white gravel, the swirling shapes leading the eye away to a moss-covered wall at the far side.

  ‘Not quite what I was expecting from the outside.’ She smiled across the table at him. ‘I really don’t want this to sound condescending, but I didn’t think places like this existed outside London.’

  Justin smiled back. ‘Devon’s not just pasties and cream teas, you know. Besides, this part of the moor has become very desirable over the past few years. Places like Chagford are popular with celebrities looking for an escape from the limelight. Look, there’s that girl from local TV over there.’ Holly followed his eyes and, sure enough, there was Dolores, wearing a very revealing dress, smiling and flirting with a grey-haired man across the table from her. ‘And, if I’m not mistaken, the old chap with her is whatsisname from that current affairs programme.’

  ‘Stirling would probably recognise him.’ Holly felt really rather good to see Dolores with another man, rather than Jack. No sooner had she thought it, than it occurred to her that this was hardly a normal reaction for a girl out on a date with a man whose name wasn’t Jack. Not, of course, that this was a date, although Jack had no way of knowing. Suppressing a sigh, she returned her full attention to Justin. He was grinning at her Stirling comment and he looked good, very good. She appraised him quietly. He was handsome, he was charming – although, all right, maybe a little bit old fashioned for her taste. He was successful and wealthy. He would have to be well-heeled to afford the prices in a place like this. Why on earth would she want to think about Jack Nelson when she was here with a man like Justin, with or without his hang-ups over his wife? Her musings were interrupted by a waiter with the menus. He asked if they would like an aperitif.

  ‘Have you got something non-alcoholic? I’d better be a good boy as I’m driving.’ Justin looked across at Holly. ‘What about you, Holly? A champagne cocktail, maybe?’

  That sounded really rather nice, but Holly decided to be good too. ‘I might have a drop of wine with my meal, but something non-alcoholic as a starter sounds great.’ The waiter proposed the house special and left them to make their choice from the amazing menu.

  ‘This all looks fantastic, Justin. What do you recommend? Do you know this place well?’

  ‘This is the first time I’ve been here this year.’ The smile had slipped from his face. ‘My wife and I used to come here quite often before.’ His voice tailed off and Holly leapt in quickly, brandishing the menu.

  ‘You were right about the selection of fish dishes. Mackerel and seaweed salad with horseradish sounds amazing. Mind you, the Devon crab with Wasabi mayonnaise looks pretty good too.’ She glanced across the table, pleased to see him looking less introspective. ‘Any advice?’

  ‘It’s all good, I’m sure. If you like, we could start by sharing one of their seafood platters. You get all sorts of shellfish; that’s if you like that sort of thing.’

  ‘I love that sort of thing. That’s a great idea. And for my main course, I rather fancy the poached hake and honey-glazed baby parsnips.’

  The waiter returned with their cocktails. These were served in huge globe-shaped glasses with a straw and looked more like fruit salad than something to drink. He took their order and left them to it. Justin raised his glass in his usual formal manner. ‘Your very good health, Holly.’

  ‘Thank you for asking me along.’ By mutual consent, they didn’t attempt to clink their glasses together for fear of sending pieces of orange, melon, strawberry or mint leaves onto the immaculate table cloth. Instead, Holly took a sip through the straw. It was… interesting; definitely fruity with a sharp lemony, maybe even peppery kick, but not a patch on a glass of chilled Sancerre. She set the drink down and looked at him. ‘So, what are you doing for Christmas, Justin?’

  For a moment, his smile faded and Holly had a sudden thought. What if he was going to be on his own as well? She could hardly invite both men to join her for Christmas lunch. That would be a bit too bohemian, really. She suppressed a grin as she found herself wondering what Julia would think of that as a plan.

  ‘I’ll be here till Christmas morning. I’ve been invited to Howard Redgrave’s Christmas Eve Ball, though I doubt if I’ll be going. You’re going though, aren’t you?’ Holly nodded, vaguely wondering why he wasn’t sure about going and if Jack had also been invited. If they both went, that, also, could develop into an interesting situation. She took comfort from the thought that Julia would be with her on that occasion and she could always be relied upon to put up effective covering fire. Justin took another sip of the fruit drink and grimaced. ‘Not so sure about the fruit cocktail.’ He picked a piece of melon from the rim of the glass. ‘Still, it’s one way to get our five a day.’ He was looking more cheerful now. He carried on.

  ‘I’ve been invited over to my uncle and aunt’s place in Taunton for Christmas lunch. I’m pretty close to them.’ He caught her eye. ‘My parents emigrated to South Africa some years back and we only meet up once a year these days. It was my turn to fly over there this Christmas, but I’ve told them I’ll go in February, when it’s really cold and miserable here.’ He smiled at Holly. ‘So I’ll probably go to Taunton. They’re very sweet, but they’re getting on a bit now. Still, the least I can do is to spend Christmas with them. Of course, you never know, if the weathermen are right, we might just be snowed in and that would be a perfect excuse to stay put.’

  Just then the wine waiter arrived to take their order. Justin had been looking at the wine list and he glanced across the table. ‘They’ve got a wonderful cellar here. I s
ee they’ve got a Menetou Salon. I seem to remember you mentioning it as one of your favourites.’ Holly nodded vigorously. He pointed it out to the waiter and the man went off. A waitress arrived with a basket of warm bread just as another brought appetisers. Each plate consisted of a shot glass full of green liquid, ringed by peeled prawns. The waitress set them down and then intoned respectfully.

  ‘Gazpacho with walnuts and seared cold water prawns.’

  The meal was excellent and the wine as good as Holly had hoped. They chatted about all sorts of things until the conversation came round to Christmas again. Justin had just finished his sea bass and set down his fork. He took a mouthful of wine and looked across the table. Holly had stopped eating some minutes earlier, full up after attempting to eat a huge piece of hake. ‘This’ll be the first Christmas without my wife. It feels strange.’

  Holly finished her wine and he reached over to refill her glass. She looked doubtful, but he poured all the same. ‘I’m driving. You aren’t. Besides, you said it’s one of your favourites.’

  ‘Thanks, Justin.’ She decided to bring the elephant in the room into the conversation. ‘So, do you still miss your wife?’

  He was staring down at his plate. It was a while before he replied. ‘Yes, I do, Holly. I miss her a lot.’

  Holly nodded to herself as his words reinforced his conviction that her role here tonight was not as his date, but as his counsellor. Feeling sorry for him in his obvious misery, she did her best to help. ‘So, Justin, do you still love her?’

  Justin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I’ve been asking myself that over and over again. When she left, she told me she didn’t think she loved me any more.’ After another long pause he eventually looked up and caught Holly’s eye. ‘She didn’t think she loved me? Is that a good enough reason to throw away ten years of happiness?’ He hesitated, his eyes on the gravel lines in the Zen garden. ‘At least, for my part they were ten happy years.’ He drained the remains of his wine and filled his glass with water from the jug. ‘To be totally honest, Holly, I don’t know. I just don’t know.’ He might not know, but Holly did. It was written all over his face.