Page 106 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘No,’ I smile, looking down at my ever-growing baby bump. ‘I’m not due yet. It’s fine. I just wanted to see something, that’s all.’
‘Your money,’ the cabbie says, taking a sharp left off the main road into a little side street.
Before Alvie had even turned up in the classroom today to remind me, I knew it was five years ago today that I sat on the bench by the River Thames contemplating my life. But I didn’t know until he did that I would need to come here again.
As I sit on the same bench next to Waterloo Bridge and look out over the Thames, I remember everything that happened that strange, but magical December that changed my life for ever.
Ben and I never really figured out exactly what happened that Christmas. It was impossible – there were far too many things that happened that still can’t be explained to this day.
All we knew was that suddenly we were the new owners of two Georgian townhouses filled with antiques and memories in the middle of Bloomsbury, London. We had no mortgages hanging over our heads, and hardly any bills to pay, thanks to a rather large sum of money that Estelle’s estate, and subsequently Angela’s, provided us with.
Everything turned out to be exactly as Henry told us. We still wondered all through Christmas that year whether it was going to turn out to be some elaborate practical joke we were both being subjected to. But no, good to his word, Henry met with us in January and we signed all the necessary legal documents that made both houses, and the remains of Angela’s estate, ours. It was an unbelievable story that we couldn’t really share with anyone else. The only person we could discuss it with was each other.
I stand up, about to walk back to where I asked the taxi to wait for me, when I see someone sitting on a bench on their own. They have a look of desperation about them I immediately recognise.
Without stopping to think, I head over towards them.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask the young, pale-faced woman. She looks frail as she huddles beneath a grubby blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
She looks at me through red-rimmed, exhausted eyes. ‘What business of it is yours?’
I was used to this sort of reaction. ‘It’s not. But I recognise that look.’
‘What look?’
‘The one you had just now. I’ve been there.’
The woman looks me up and down. ‘I doubt that very much. I recognise a designer handbag when I see one.’
‘Money has nothing to do with it,’ I say, realising how this must seem. I would probably have reacted in a similar way if someone looking like I do today approached me on my bench. Luckily, I wasn’t in the sort of desperate state this woman was already in, but I might have been if things had turned out differently. I was very lucky that day, and I never stopped remembering that.
‘Really?’ The woman sneers. ‘That’s easy for you to say when you have it.’
‘Can I help you?’ I ask. ‘I mean, do you have somewhere to go tonight?’
‘Yeah, course I do.’ She turns away from me and I see a red mark, alongside large, nasty-looking bruise on her neck.
I look down at the bulging duffle bag by the woman’s feet. ‘That’s good to know. But if you didn’t, I know somewhere you could go. Look.’ I reach into my bag and pull out a card. ‘They’re very welcoming here. No questions asked.’
‘Really?’ The woman doesn’t take the card. ‘You’d know, would you?’
‘Yes, actually I do, because my husband and I run the place. Well, we own the building it’s in. We have a team of wonderful people that help us look after everything.’ I put the card on the bench next to her. ‘At least think about it, all right? It’s safe and it’s a warm bed for the night.’
The woman glances at the card now. ‘That says it’s in Bloomsbury.’ She laughs. ‘What sort of hostel is in Bloomsbury?’
‘A very special one,’ I say calmly. ‘And one I’m proud to be a part of. Look, I have to go now, but the offer is there. Sometimes we have to swallow our pride and let life lead us in a different direction than the one we think we’re going in. Believe me, I know.’
The woman looks up at me with a disbelieving expression.
‘Look on me as your fairy godmother if you like – it is nearly Christmas after all. Why not spend it somewhere where you will feel safe and warm. We have a wonderful Christmas dinner and everyone gets a present.’
‘Dinner and a present, you say?’ The woman picks up the card now.
‘Yes.’
‘“Holly House, Mistletoe Square”? What is this, a Christmas joke?’
‘No, it’s a magical place, all right, but it’s no joke. I live next door at Christmas House. Look, I have to go now. Maybe we’ll see you later?’
