Page 15 of The Winter We Met
‘No idea why everyone says English cooking is bad. That food was fit for a king.’
‘People like stereotypes. They’re familiar. Unthreatening. I’m not sure Alf will ever recover from the fact that a “strapping lad” like you drinks sherry and eats plant-based burgers.’
Nik grinned. ‘He’s quite a character. I like Alf. He calls life as he sees it, just like Glenda. And she may not be the only resident who needs persuading that bringing their Christmas celebration forwards is a good idea. In fact, an overload of carbs has helped me brainstorm the party – would you like me to share my thoughts?’
‘Oh, yes please. It’s going to take more initiative and effort than ever if we’re going to pull this off on time. Any outside help would be appreciated.’
‘Ace! I do love a project.’
His youthful enthusiasm made me feel half my age. ‘Hold on.’ I rummaged in my handbag and pulled out a pen. I reached for a napkin. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’
‘Isn’t that a bit old school for you?’ he asked, in a teasing tone. ‘I’d have thought you’d punch notes into your phone.’
‘The battery’s gone.’
‘I’m saying nothing,’ he said and laughed, attracting appreciative looks from a group of young women at the bar. ‘Okay. Why not contact the local press? I think it’s a story that suits the residents’ generation – a stiff upper lip in the face of adversity. Readers will love that. And going public might make the event extra special – give your gran and her friends the attention they deserve. I help out with various local charity initiatives, back in Sydney, and press coverage is also great for getting help.’
‘What do you mean?’
Nik sipped his coffee. ‘You’ve got a couple of weeks less than normal to organise this event. Glenda’s right – people who are straight-talking often talk sense…’
I loved how Nik saw the good.
‘…everyonewillbe distracted by the priority of sorting out where they are going to live when Willow Court closes. So the coverage could also be about asking the community for help – caterers, any company with spare decorations… why not go big? It’s the last one.’
‘You’re good,’ I said, pressing the napkin flat with one hand whilst I scribbled.
‘Last winter I helped renovate a homeless shelter. There was a fire just before a cold front was due – not cold by British standards, but still, no one deserves to sleep outside on an empty stomach at any time of year. The community really pulled together –the local paper advertised for help and joiners rebuilt shelves and units without charging. Electricians mucked in for free. I was part of a team that helped redecorate and a restaurant donated a cooker they were about to replace. It was hugely satisfying to see it all come together.’
Nik told me about other charity work he’d done – a sponsored hike in a nearby national park… and every Christmas Junior Magic ran a shoe box appeal for impoverished children in our locality.
‘That’s amazing. Where do you find the time, with work? I feel wholly inadequate.’
‘Don’t be. Your life’s no less busy. You look after your gran – and Buddy. I’ve only got myself to worry about.’
By the time we’d finished talking, the white napkin was covered in scrawl on both sides. I waved for the bill. Nik tried to pay when the waiter came over, but I got there first.
‘This meal is a thanks from me,’ I said, ‘for breathing cheery, warm Aussie air into Willow Court this afternoon, at a time when the residents need it most…’ A lump formed in my throat. ‘It was good to see Gran perk up. I’m really worried about what’s going to happen. She’s been so happy at Willow Court and a bit of excitement around the party, keeping busy… that would soften the blow just a little.’ I folded up the napkin and put it carefully in my bag. ‘I’m grateful, Nik. Your input will really make a difference.’
I’d been watching a couple at another table. He’d snapped at her several times and talked her down every time she’d tried to respond before going back to scrolling down his phone. Now she sat in silence, simply drinking her wine. I wanted to go over and tell her she deserved better.
Aside from Oliver, I hadn’t met many men as thoughtful or kind as Nik. My mum’s boyfriends were usually bad choices. Talking about Christmas reminded me of one with her then-boyfriend, Dave, who hardly spoke to me at all. I was eight. Mum couldn’t be bothered to cook vegetables and hadn’t had enough money to buy turkey. So I’d had my usual – chicken nuggets with baked beans and oven chips. I didn’t mind but could have cried when she said the Christmas puddings had been too dear. I’d wanted to see blue flames on the top that my friends had told me about. She’d switched on the telly and told me to watch what I liked – she and her latest were off down the pub.
I could have been one of those children Nik did his shoe box appeal for.
I shook myself, determined not to dwell. I’d always worked hard not to let my past define my future. I had Gran. An amazing job working with toys. Buddy and Oliver and now a lovely new friend. Nik passed me my coat, cleared our cups and took them to the bar. Buddy pushed close against my legs as we stood outside and breathed out white air. As a child I’d sometimes pretend to blow out smoke when it was cold, trying to be like Mum. She’d noticed once. Asked what I was doing and why. When I replied she’d burst into tears. I’d never seen her like that before. In between sobs she told me never to dream of being like her. I didn’t understand. I thought she’d be pleased.
Annoyed at how these flashbacks popped up now and again, I pushed the memory away.
‘You’re really worried about Alice, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said, smarting at the cold air. ‘But Gran’s one for getting on with things and not wallowing. I’ve just got to do my best to make this party the best one ever.’ I bit a fingernail. ‘I really hope I can pull it off.’
Nik zipped up his red anorak. ‘Sounds to me like you could do with all the help you can get, at this meeting. Look… I love a challenge. How about I come along tomorrow – for extra moral support? Although please tell me if that’s too much, I—’
‘You’d do that? You’d really help me? But you must be busy researching for work.’
‘Sure… but there’s no tight schedule with that,’ he replied vaguely.
