Page 78 of The Winter We Met
‘I’m not sure I can wait that long,’ I said and looked at Oliver’s puzzled face.
He clasped the notebook to his chest. ‘Trust me, young lady – it’ll be well worth it. You’re in for the surprise of your life.’
35
I gave a big yawn. It was Saturday night. I stood by the window and looked down onto the road and a couple bustling past under a streetlamp, laughing. They carried shopping bags with rolls of Christmas wrap sticking out of the top. Nik had been taken on a haunted London pub walk by his neighbour Rob. Oliver was on his second date with Krish. I thought back to the evenings Nik had come here and could almost not cringe now. What on earth made me think we’d ever be the perfect match?
For a start, I came out in prickly heat if I sunbathed – Oliver was the same. Last year we’d saved hard and gone on our hiking trip to Canada in autumn, both preferring that to a sweltering beach break. The Australian climate would have never suited me. Nik didn’t like social media whereas, like Oliver, I was addicted to Instagram and Twitter, even though we knew it was a terrible distraction and he and I spend far too much time sending each other the latest silly memes. Plus Netflix was as important to us as oxygen whereas Nik laughed about how he’d first thought that word was a fishing term. His old school ways had made a refreshing change but his rejection had given me a new honesty and I had to admit they’d have pulled us apart once the initial passion died down. I needed to date someone who could talk Skype, hashtags and screenshots, especially if they lived nine thousand miles away.
I picked up the phone and dialled Gran’s number.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me. How are things? Cold, isn’t it? We may not need that snow machine next week.’
‘Blimey O’Reilly you’re right, sweetheart. I didn’t put so much as a toe outside today once I saw how red Lynn’s cheeks were when she got into work. Instead I started to sort through my things, ready for the move. Oh, and I’ve rung the catering company to check they’re covering everyone’s dietary whims. My mouth watered at some of their suggestions.’ She went on to describe the finger foods that would be on offer, from chunks of soft turkey meat and soft, nut-free stuffing on sticks, to mini mince pies topped with whipped brandy cream.
‘So… did you do it?’ Yesterday I’d popped in after work and ended up staying for a couple of hours. ‘You still think it’s best to email and not phone?’
‘Yes. After such a long time it could get emotional. I think writing to your mum is better to start with. So I sent the email after lunch. It wasn’t very long, my fingers are more stiff with the chilly weather and couldn’t manage much.’
‘I’d have done it.’
‘No. It was down to me. Shall I read out what I sent? Just let me find the piece of paper. I wrote it out first.’ A minute later she cleared her throat. ‘Hello Karen. Jess and I were both surprised to receive your email. You’ve got in touch now and that’s all that matters. Yes, let’s meet up. We’ll fit in with where and when suits you. Love from Mum.’
‘Is that okay?’
I nodded down the phone.
‘I wasn’t sure how to sign off. I do love her. She’s my daughter. But after all these years…’
‘No one would blame you for feeling conflicted. I do myself. Well done, anyway.’ We chatted for a while, making pointless guesses about what my mum was doing now. How could we possibly all move forwards after such a lot of hurt? We both had so many questions. ‘Better go and make my tea,’ I said, looking at the clock. Half past seven. I suddenly realised how shattered I felt after a ridiculously busy day at Under the Tree – ridiculous and invigorating and stressful and crazy. I’d never get bored of a child’s face light up at the sight of an exciting book or cute plushy. I felt as if I could sleep for a week but with Gran now helping out again, perhaps I could start really savouring this time of year. I hadn’t been able to do that since the announcement of Willow Court’s closure. ‘See you tomorrow at the crafting session, Gran. Love you lots.’
I didn’t tell her about the clandestine pub lunch with Oliver and Alf planned for beforehand because any conspiracy theory about lovely Nik was bound to be absurd. I yawned again and from the floor Buddy followed suit. I’d have a luxurious bubble bath with scented candles and then try some meditation, if I could focus.
The door buzzer rang. I went over and pressed the button. ‘Who is it?’
‘A special delivery,’ said a voice in a weird foreign accent.
I felt too tired to go down. ‘Okay, come up.’
Buddy’s curls would be tidier than mine and I was still in my work clothes but didn’t care. I had no one to impress now. A knock at the door. I opened it, wondering what I’d have for tea.
‘Surprise!’ Seb stood there holding a couple of bags and a bottle of wine.
‘What’s this?’ I asked as Buddy barked and pawed him.
Seb ruffled his head. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ He pushed past and went straight into the kitchenette, putting the wine and bags on the breakfast bar. He took off his anorak to reveal a denim muscle-fit shirt.
‘Make yourself at home,’ I said sourly, but couldn’t help smiling.
‘I will. In fact, I’ll do more than that. I’ll make you dinner and then we’ll talk.’ He looked in the cupboards, found two wine glasses, unscrewed the bottle and filled them. He handed me one. ‘Here’s to you.’
‘What have I done to deserve this?’
‘Turned up for work today – given it your all, even though I can tell that, for some reason, you’re feeling down. You were diplomatic, as usual, with the parents that let their children come in eating sweets before manhandling the plushies with sticky fingers, and every time I turned around you were filling up the pocket money toy counter or demonstrating the latest electrical gadget. You even sang along to Angela’s background Christmas music that I know you are already sick of. So you chill. I’ll whizz up fajitas.’
I went over and gave him a one-armed hug. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
