Page 85 of A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews
They were closing at four today, then re-opening on the twenty-eighth. Mattie couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a day off and though she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to take to her bed again to avoid Christmas, she did quite fancy taking to her bed to sleep three days straight due to extreme exhaustion.
Across the landing the sound of someone throwing up grew louder and though they’d parted on bad terms, Mattie felt a twinge of sympathy for Tom. Then she thought of the three days when she wouldn’t see him and even though those three days would be spent feasting and presenting and watching back-to-back musicals, they suddenly seemed like quite a dull three days.
‘Yes, I’ve decided that I will be an active participant in your Christmas celebrations,’ Mattie said. ‘But I’m very tired and if I come over this afternoon you’ll just stick me with all your Christmas Eve party cooking. I know you.’
‘As if I would do such a wicked thing?’ Then Sandrine gave a sudden shriek. ‘Oh! Ian!La!That white car’s just pulling out.’
Mattie’s services were no longer required and Tom wasstillbeing sick. Squinching up her face in anticipation of the smell and sight that awaited her, Mattie opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. The bathroom door was ajar and on his knees hugging the toilet was … the Archbishop of Banterbury.
‘You all right, Phil?’ Mattie asked gently.
There was a groan in reply and Mattie retreated. Five minutes later, when the puking sounds had stopped, she ventured back out and met a sheepish and pale-looking Phil loitering in the hall.
‘I’d give it a few minutes if I were you,’ he said. ‘I cracked open the window but even so …’
‘I’ll use the er, facilities downstairs,’ Mattie decided. ‘I have to get my croissants on and start on my pigs in blankets … Sorry!’
At the mere mention of food, Phil retched, one hand out in front of him to ward Mattie off, not that she had any intention of going near him. She took several steps back but it turned out to be a false alarm.
‘Never drinking again,’ he said sadly. ‘It’s all Tom’s fault.’
‘Tom enabled you to get very drunk?’ Mattie asked in disbelief. Had he reverted back to Saint Banter of Banthood? ‘My Tom?’
Phil’s brow crinkled in confusion. ‘Your Tom? Our Tom! Said he was going to drown his sorrows and I said I’d match him drink for drink because that’s what brothers from another mother do, but I forgot that Tom’s bigger than me.’
That was putting it mildly. Phil was literally half Tom’s size. ‘Did he say why he was drowning his sorrows?’
‘Something about women. Was it having to work with a bunch of women? There was a whole rant about tote bags but really, the whole night’s a bit patchy. Though I definitely remember Tom shouting that he was done with women and their cupcakes.’
‘Cupcakes?’ Her faintest hope gave way to fury at the news that Tom was done with her. They’d barely even started anything and so he didn’t get to say that it was over without any discussion with her. ‘I’ll give him cupcakes!’
‘Oh no!’ This time the retching wasn’t a rehearsal but the real deal. Phil dived for the bathroom again, thankfully slamming the door shut behind him.
‘You’ll feel much better if you clean your teeth afterwards,’ Mattie called out. ‘Use the blue toothbrush, I’m sure Tom won’t mind!’
Just once, it would be nice to make laminated dough and not have to work out her demons while she kneaded, but today was not that day.
Today was also not going to be a quiet day. By the time Cuthbert arrived, resplendent in a suit covered in tiny Father Christmases, swiftly followed by Sophie, who’d come as a very cute elf, and Sam who’d come as a much less cute elf (such were Sophie’s powers of persuasion), there was already a sizeable queue outside the tearooms.
‘Wow!’ Mattie said, taking in the sight of the three of them. The sight of Sam in an elf onesie would stay with her until her dying day. And as for Cuthbert … ‘That is a whole lot of look!’
‘It’s Christmas,’ Sophie said, digging into her bag for something and pulling out a pair of reindeer antlers that lit up when she flicked a switch. ‘These are for you. I got them in—’
‘The pound shop, yes. Somebody should ban you from that place,’ Mattie said, folding her arms and pressing her lips together to keep back the smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘And I’m not putting thosethingson my head.’
‘Scrooge.’ Sophie advanced towards Mattie, who took a little step back.
‘The same Scrooge who was planning on giving you a very generous Christmas bonus?’ Mattie asked.
‘The lady doth protest too much,’ Cuthbert decreed, plucking the antlers from Sophie’s hand and plonking them on Mattie’s head. ‘That’s better!’
There was no point in arguing, Mattie decided. Just like she’d long since stopped complaining about Sophie and Cuthbert’s stealth Christmas bombing of the tearooms. There was now so much tinsel, bunting and paperchains, not to mention miniature Christmas trees and a whole heap of festive-themed table ornaments, that it was hard to tell where the Christmas decorations ended and the tearooms began.
The festive spirit was contagious: as they got busy with their pre-opening chores, Mattie even found herself duetting with Cuthbert on ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ even though it was basically a song about date rape.
The prep was soon done and the first coffees and pastries were being served but there was still an impatient queue outside, waiting for Happy Ever After to open. Yet there was no sign of Tom, who was no doubt stewing in his own hungover juices.
‘Oh God, we need more people than this,’ Mattie exclaimed. She could feel her blood pressure rising and stopping somewhere in her left eyelid, which was twitching wildly. ‘Sam, I want you to go upstairs and haul Tom out of bed.’
