Page 17 of The Winter We Met
‘Right, I’d better going. Honestly, breaking and making up is exhausting.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘for making the first move.’
He took my hand and shrugged. ‘My parents never used to admit they were wrong. I swore I’d never grow up like that.’
I squeezed his hand encouragingly before he took his away.
‘I shouted at them once.’
‘What about?’ I asked.
‘I was a hot-headed ten-year-old and they’d missed my Christmas play yet again. I asked them how come no one else’s nanny went, feeling furious with myself as tears ran down my cheek, me stamping my foot and saying they didn’t care.’
I rubbed the top of his arm.
‘They said I was ungrateful and that they worked all hours to provide me with the best education. I never shouted at them again. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that I missed them.’ He gave a lopsided smile before taking my hand to his lips and kissing it. Then he grabbed his coat and hurried out of the front door. I gazed after him, wanting to follow and hug his heartache away.
*
Any doubts Oliver had planted in my mind about Nik were extinguished as soon as I pulled up into Willow Court. He was already there, helping Glenda – she must have been to the shops and dropped her bag as he’d squatted and was picking up a couple of apples. I hurried out of the car and gave a big wave. By the time I reached them the tarmac was clear. He stood with an arm around Glenda, holding her bag, complimenting her navy coat that had gold buttons down the front. Buddy tugged at the lead, keen to see his friends.
‘I’ve just been explaining that any bowling would be far better indoors at this time of year.’ Nik scratched Buddy’s head. ‘And that really, for a decent game, apples are a bit small.’
I’d rarely seen Glenda smile like that, with her cheeks plumped out.
It was almost two o’clock. Most of the residents, including Gran, were already in the lounge, drinking cups of tea. It wasn’t only the central heating and smell of warmed mince pies that welcomed me as I walked in, but the terracotta curtains, the sage walls and fern leaf patterned armchairs, each with a drinks tray attached to one side. The whole room had such a conservatory, sunshiny feel. Paintings hung on the walls of scenes from bygone times – an old-fashioned sweet shop with colourful jars, a horse and cart in front of a farm and a classic car driving down a narrow street. Lift music played in the background and was cheerful, unobtrusive and somehow comforting.
Nik chatted to Betty who paced in and out of the room, in her usual raincoat, holding the doll. He asked her about her children, Lily and Roger. As the creases in Betty’s forehead momentarily smoothed out, it touched me that he’d remembered that detail. She talked about her ‘wonderful life’ with them but those sentiments only lasted briefly before she was transported back to the present and complained to Nik that strangers were being let into Willow Court whilst she wasn’t being let out.
I turned left into the lounge and headed over to Gran, stopping to hug Pan who was dressed from head to toe in animal print and then Alf who always acted as if physical contact was embarrassing, yet never seemed to want to let go. Gran grunted and pushed herself up. I passed the dog lead to Nik who’d come over.
‘Let’s get this meeting started,’ she said.
‘First, I hope you don’t mind – but I couldn’t help buying you this,’ said Nik. He set his rucksack on the floor and pulled out a slim paper bag. ‘I passed a bookstore today. They had a whole section dedicated to Christmas. During our meal last night Jess mentioned that you used to enjoy reading festive novels with her when she was younger and are the mobile library’s keenest customer. The store had a special sale on. Apparently this new detective novel is selling out. It’s about a series of murders that all relate to a Christmas party in a haunted mansion.’
Gran’s mouth fell open as she pulled out the book and ran her hand over the cover. ‘I don’t know what to say. You hardly know me.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘I love cosy crime – although Alf always tells me off for reading the last page first. Thanks, Nik.’
They smiled at each other and a warm glow enveloped me. I took off my hat, scarf and coat and draped them over the back of her chair. Nik sat down next to Alf, wiping mince pie crumbs from his chin. Buddy collapsed at their feet. Arms linked, Gran and I made our way to stand in front of a hatch, behind which was a small area where residents could make coffee or tea and cook snacks. Nik winked and my stomach felt topsy turvy.
‘Right everyone,’ said Gran, taking her hands out of her cardigan pockets, ‘as I’ve already told most of you, our Australian visitor has come up with the brilliant idea of having our party a couple of weeks early. If Nik’s home country can celebrate Christmas six months before, there’s no reason why us lot should be shy, right?’
They looked at him and some raised eyebrows. Others shrugged. Alf stopped feeding Buddy treats.
‘I’m afraid there is,’ said Glenda with a feisty tone. She folded her arms after pushing herself up. ‘I know Nik means well but it’s going to be a load of frivolity and nonsense at the very time we should all be focusing on the serious business of planning our futures.’
‘Perhaps organising a party is just what Willow Court needs to lift everyone’s spirits,’ said Nik and not for the first time I admired his appealing tone. It was like comforting cocoa on a stormy night, or a hot water bottle warming a bed.
‘Glenda’s got a point,’ piped up Fred, a former firefighter with, appropriately, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. ‘I’ve given no thought to the theme of our bash because all I can think about is where am I going to live in the New Year.’
‘But couldn’t an earlier party double as a way of saying goodbye?’ I said.
‘That would be nice,’ said Nancy. She sat at the back, in her wheelchair. Her voice wavered. ‘I’m going to miss everyone so much – staff as well. If we don’t have a party… a formal date where we all come together… I’m worried everyone will disappear in dribs and drabs and I won’t get a chance to tell the people that matter how much they’ve meant.’
‘That’s an excellent point,’ said Nik. He stood up and looked around the room. ‘It’s a last chance to celebrate your friendships. And getting the local press involved, I’m sure, would bring in lots of help. It’s a way of… of giving you closure, over this closure.’
‘We should do our bit,’ said Gran. ‘I read the papers. More care homes than ever are closing because of lack of funding. If we spoke to the local rag about our knees-up, they could tell the personal story behind what’s happening to the rest of folk like us, around the country.’
Some of the residents perked up at this. Good old Gran, knowing that appealing to the higher cause might raise more interest.
