Page 23 of The Village Christmas Party

‘What exactly is vegan honey?’

After breakfast at a local café, a treat from Gemma, I’m at a green Christmas fayre with Mum. It’s early afternoon on Sunday and I’ve made the sausage rolls and frozen them, as well as changed the beds, and nipped to my neighbour Martin’s with a batch of freshy made fudge for recovering my stolen goods from the burglar. I have also installed mine and Eileen’s security doorbells. I’ve left the guy steaming the curtains in the lounge and, as he is another acquaintance of Dad’s, I feel quite comfortable doing so.

I half apologised to June with her mentioning Martin’s sugar intake, but he laughed and said he would share it with her. After that, I dropped a box of toys, courtesy of Bentham’s, at the women’s refuge and they were over the moon. It breaks my heart to think that children could be without gifts at Christmas time.

‘It is apple based,’ says the stallholder.

‘Interesting,’ I reply, although I can’t quite understand why it’s cruel to use bees, it’s what they do, isn’t it? Chatting to the stallholder further though, she tells me it’s a good alternative which I kind of understand and some of the beekeepers use antibiotics so they are not always as organic aswe think apparently. She suggested I ask about the hives when purchasing honey, which I think is good advice.

Mum is admiring a pretty fake leather bracelet at a stall, with tassels and studded with coloured beads.

Moving on, I come across items made from sustainable wood that include lamps, framed mirrors and a particularly attractive pair of earrings made from oak and painted with a swirly pattern. Mum admires then at the same time, so when she nips to the loo, I buy them for her as part of her Christmas present.

Having perused the rest of the stalls and bought some jams and essential bath oils, we are sitting in a café area sipping an oat milk coffee, which, although I am not vegan, is really quite delicious.

‘What are you up to later?’ Mum asks and I think of how I might get a scented bath and an early night. Last night was way later than I’m used to these days, but it was fun spending the night with Gemma and playing the music of our youth. Music does that, doesn’t it? A place, an event, a time in our life can all come flooding back to us when we hear a particular song.

‘Not a lot, you?’ I sip my coffee.

‘I’m going to the cinema,’ says Mum, stirring her drink.

‘Oh, that’s nice. Who are you going with?’

‘Someone from the food bank. His name is Terry and we are strictly friends, before you ask,’ she says firmly.

‘If you say so.’ I grin.

‘I do, and I must say I’m really looking forward to it. The film, I mean,’ she adds. ‘I can’t think of anything worse than getting romantically involved with someone at my age.’ She pulls a face. ‘Any males I meet will stay strictly in the friend zone, as you young ones say. It would take someone very special to change my mind.’ She grins. ‘Anyway, speaking of dates, when was the last time you went on one?’ Mum says, but not unkindly.

‘A while.’ I shrug. ‘But I’m okay with it. If I meet someone, I meet someone. If not that’s okay too. Anyway, I should probably make a move now,’ I say, draining my coffee. ‘Enjoy your film.’

‘Thanks, love.’

I think about Mum’s comment, realising it has indeed been a while since I’ve been out on a date, and enjoyed that tingle of excitement: getting dressed up and ready to be whisked off somewhere. For some reason, when I think of this, the image of a certain someone pops into my head.

Driving home later, I can’t believe that I actually spot hot shop guy. I inwardly cringe when I think of how I doused him in Prosecco the other evening. Even if it was the non-alcoholic type!

Stopping at the traffic lights, I watch him leaving a local restaurant with his little girl, holding her hand as they approach the busy road. She looks so sweet, a pair of white fluffy earmuffs over her dark hair. He looks effortlessly sexy in dark jeans and a brown leather jacket. I almost want to wave out of the window, but then, why would I? I don’t even know his name, after all, and I’m not sure he wants to see the woman who was responsible for making him sit in damp jeans all evening.

All the same, I can’t help noticing that it’s Sunday afternoon and there is no sign of a wife or girlfriend, but just the two of them once more. Not that it’s any of my business. I glance at them in my rear-view mirror as the lights change to green and I drive on.

THIRTEEN

I had a chat with Mum on the phone this morning, following her cinema trip, and she told me she had a nice evening, once again dismissing any thoughts of romance.

‘Well, I for one think it’s nice that you are at least having evenings out with friends that don’t involve chaining yourself to a lamp post, or similar, for a good cause.’

‘I don’t think I would go that far, but I take your point,’ she agrees. ‘It was really nice being in a toasty cinema watching a good movie.’

Maybe she is beginning to realise that being outdoors isn’t such a great idea during the winter months. At least, I hope so.

‘Anyway, I’m off to work now, Mum. Speak to you soon.’

‘Bye, love. Have a good day.’

I head to Sue’s place on my way in, as she has invited me round to show me the six-foot Santa, along with the boxes of Christmas decorations.

‘And I see what you mean about it being scary.’ I laugh as it stares at me with a smile showing giant teeth and thick, brown eyebrows. Surely someone designed this thing as a joke.

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