Page 73 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 43
Christmas Day
The sound of my phone alarm slowly forced its way through to my brain, but, not ready to wake up, I refused to acknowledge it. On and on the ringing went until finally the noise properly broke through and as I flung my arm out and grabbed my mobile to silence it, I felt tempted to hit the snooze button. I knew I couldn’t. I had a Christmas Day schedule to follow. I shot up in bed, as the wordsChristmasandDayhit me.
I threw the bedcovers back and swung my legs over the side of the mattress. As I shoved my feet into my slippers, I checked the time. Having managed to ignore my alarm for a whole twenty minutes, I consoled myself in the knowledge that I wasn’t that much off-track. “Come on, Frank,” I said, grabbing my dressing gown and putting it on. “Wakey wakey.”
I paused to admire the dress I planned to wear hanging on the back of the door. It was a black woollen fitted number and at calf length would look great with the only footwear I had: my trusty Dr Martens. Having decided that if I was entertaining the only way to do it was in style, I looked up to the heavens and smiled. “Thanks, Aunt Lillian,” I said, hoping she didn’t mind me borrowing it.
Leaving the dress behind, I made my way straight down to the kitchen and checking my notes, the first thing on my list was to get the turkey out of the fridge so it could come up to room temperature. As I heaved the foil-covered roasting tray out and placed it on the counter, I felt determined to make my Christmas lunch one to remember. Not least for Seb and Lizzie. I recalled the little boy’s sadness because his dad hadn’t been present to experience Santa’s special visit. His father’s absence clearly still played on his mind and if my contribution to Seb’s day helped ease that, then I’d be one happy woman.
I smiled as I picked up my pen and ticked off the first of my to-dos. With a while to go before the turkey went in the oven, I told myself I could relax for a bit. “Next up,” I said. “Fire. Then coffee.”
Having cleaned the hearth and got the open fire ablaze, I set about making my drink, all the while pondering my time in Little Leatherington. Looking back, I couldn’t believe how much my plans had changed. In the space of a couple of weeks I’d gone from being determined to lock myself away for the festive duration, to organising a group Christmas lunch. I chuckled. We were such a varied bunch and picturing us all around the dinner table, I imagined lively conversations abound. In my head, even Barrowboy joined in.
My phone bleeped and picking it up, my tummy tickled at the sight of Oliver’s name and wondering what he wanted, I clicked to read his incoming text.
Happy Christmas morning. Granddad says he’s looking forward to lunch. I’m just looking forward to seeing you x
Wrapped in a warm glow and resting my phone against my chin, I grinned, knowing I looked forward to seeing Oliver in return.A bit too much, I acknowledged, remembering his suggestion that I stay on in the village so we could get to know each other more.
I couldn’t deny I felt tempted. I didn’t just find Oliver physically attractive, he seemed to have the personality to match. He was fun and he didn’t run a mile when I did something embarrassing or got things wrong. Rather than judge or pay lip-service to my less than conventional ideas for earning a living, he seemed supportive and encouraging. I had to admit he was the first man I could actually see myself in a relationship with, in goodness knew how long, which begged the question of what was stopping me from hanging around.
I knew setting up my new business could be done just as easily in the Yorkshire Dales as it could in London. And as I looked out of the window in contemplation, I couldn’t help but scoff as my eyes settled on the stone building at the far end of the garden. In Little Leatherington, I didn’t even have to think about storage and workshop space. Moreover, with Jules looking to rent out Number 3, I was a ready-made tenant. On the face of it, a life in Little Leatherington held everything I could hope for.
I let out a laugh. If only things were that easy.
All I’d ever known was life in the city and London wasn’t just my home, it was the place where I was born and raised. It was where my best friend lived. I pictured my small yet perfectly formed flat and having spent years turning it into my own cosy little abode, I wasn’t sure I could give it up. Of course, there were other considerations to bear in mind. London had coffee shops and wine bars and cinemas and takeaways… the list went on. Plus, I didn’t exactly have the temperament for country living. If getting stuck up a mountain and mistaking a cow for a burglar proved anything, it was that.
Deciding I had too much to think about already, I left my head and my heart to continue battling it out in silence, while I got on with more important things, like enjoying Christmas.
Frank trotted into the room, no doubt, ready for his breakfast and as per our usual routine, I moved to let him out into the garden, ready to fill his bowl. Opening the back door, however, I immediately froze at the sight that met me. “What the…?” I said. Faced with a white wall of snow, it seemed no one was going anywhere.
I recalled the previous evening’s humongous snowflakes swirling around, realising I should have known they’d cause a problem, especially when I remembered all the times London had been brought to a standstill by a couple of inches of snow. As I laughed at my naivety, I picked up my phone and took a photo of the doorway to send to Jules, knowing she’d love it.
Appreciating that the house wasn’t really buried under a solid twenty feet of snow and that I was more than likely looking at a snowdrift, I wondered how best to tackle it. Another huge grin crossed my face when, after a moment, I came up with the perfect method of demolition. Before I knew it, I was racing upstairs, throwing on some clothes, and hastily searching for my boots. Heading into the kitchen again, I stared at my target and taking a few steps back, I began counting down. “Three, two, one…” I said. Setting off on a run, I charged straight at the wall before me.
Landing in a heap at the other side, I burst into a fit of laughter. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something so childish and as Frank raced out to join me, my merriment only continued when I struggled to stop him licking my face. I had to clamber onto all fours before I could, at last, get back onto my feet.
I spotted a neighbour looking down at me from her upstairs window and going off her frown, the sight of me bursting out of the kitchen, at that time of the morning, on Christmas Day wasn’t as fun an experience for her as it was me. I put my hand up and waved, but rather than return the gesture, the woman shook her head and promptly disappeared. I found myself giggling some more, surprised to find I didn’t actually care what the woman thought. For the first time in forever, I didn’t care whatanyonethought. I felt free and joyful and taking in the crisp untouched snow around me, I knew exactly what I wanted to do next.
