Page 61 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 36
Ted was already at the door by the time I reached the farmhouse entrance and seeing him stood there stony-faced did nothing to alleviate my anxiety. I told myself not to be so soft. I’d handled his attitude before and just because we were on his turf, that didn’t mean I couldn’t handle it again.
“Antonia,” he said.
“What? Don’t I even get a smile?”
The responding twinkle in his eye told me he was teasing and that under the façade, he was, in fact, happy to see me. I shook my head at his behaviour, as he chuckled and stepped aside to let me in, at the same time gesturing our way down the hall.
Entering the house, I passed by two closed doors, one to my left and one to my right. Pictures lined the hallway walls, but what really caught my attention were the beautiful Victorian floor tiles. Made up of a small black and cream chequered pattern, they were edged in a contrasting triangular design.
Continuing into the kitchen, I couldn’t believe how spacious it was. Taking in the huge farmhouse table in the centre, I wouldn’t have been surprised if my whole London flat fit in that one room alone. I immediately felt the warmth that was, no doubt, emanating from the Aga in the chimney breast opposite. There was a butler sink with brass tap fittings under the window to my right and a huge Welsh dresser sat to my left displaying all kinds of crockery, from a gravy boat to a stack of teacups. Ted’s kitchen units were made of stripped pine, as was the huge built-in plate rack. With a pile of washing up in the sink, a discarded half-eaten sandwich, and what was clearly an original terracotta floor in need of a mop, it wasn’t the tidiest of spaces. But it was a proper working kitchen, not a showroom. I had a real sense of being in the heart of Ted’s home.
Ted followed me in, just as the well-used kettle on the stove began to shrill. The sound pierced my eardrums so it was a relief when he picked it up off the heat and carried it over to a worktop trivet.
“Just in time,” he said. “Will tea do you?”
“That would be lovely,” I replied. As I hovered near the doorway, he dropped a couple of teabags into a huge brown teapot and filled it with the freshly boiled water.
“Come to root in that skip, have you?” he asked, as he concentrated on the task at hand.
“If that’s all right with you, yes.” Knowing full well that wasn’t the sole reason for my visit, I took in the man’s solemnity. Ted had proven himself to be less than sociable on more than one occasion and what I wanted from him called for anything but. I decided to wait for the right moment before asking. The last thing I wanted was for him to laugh me out of the door.
He positioned two mugs on a tray, along with the teapot and a sugar bowl. “Don’t just stand there,” he said. “Sit yourself down.” He placed the tray on the table, and while I did as I was told and took a seat, he went to fetch a biscuit barrel from the kitchen counter. “Help yourself,” he said. Joining me, he sat down too and took a sip of his drink. “Looking for anything in particular?” he asked.
“Dining chairs and a table,” I said.
“Ha! Isn’t everyone at this time of year?”
I smiled. The man had a point.
Ted suddenly appeared wistful. “When I think of the Christmases we’ve had around this beauty.” He ran his hand over the well-worn wooden surface in front of him. “The wife loved this time of year. Not that we did anything fancy. It was only ever the three of us. Her, me and Ollie…”
I smiled at the shortening of his grandson’s name, at the same time wondering where Oliver’s parents would be if not there.
“We raised him,” Ted said, as if reading my mind. “His mum, Sam, our daughter, passed away when he was a baby.”
Both saddened and surprised to hear that, my heart skipped a beat. “I’m so sorry,” I replied. “That’s awful.” For me, the pain of losing a parent had been gut-wrenching enough. For Ted and his wife, losing a child must have been unbearable. And poor Oliver, to have never known his own mother.
I thought back to my first meeting with Oliver, when he’d asked me if I was Italian, leaving me no choice but to explain that mum was an Antonio Banderas superfan. I recalled his expression when I went on to say she’d since died. The understanding he showed obviously came from experience. Although compared to him, I was lucky. I got to know my mum.
“As for Ollie’s dad,” Ted carried on. “Well, he’s never been on the scene. He scarpered quicker than it took for the blue line to appear on the pregnancy test. I think that was one of the reasons the wife insisted we went all out. Only at birthdays and Christmas, mind. We didn’t spoil the lad.”
I smiled, betting they did.
“You know, to make up for the fact that Ollie was stuck with us old cronies.” Despite his joking, there was a real tenderness in Ted’s voice. “At Christmastime, you’d have thought the wife was feeding the five thousand. When it came to food, that woman was a miracle worker. She really could make something out of nothing.” He took another mouthful of tea, as if needing a moment to pull himself together. “It’s not the same now, of course. Although me and Ollie do our best.” He laughed as if recalling more recent Christmases past. “We muddle through.” Ted lowered his gaze and running a finger along the rim of his cup, looked at me through his eyelashes. “Maybe when that grandson of mine has his own family we’ll get back to having fun again,” he said, his tone pointed.
I immediately knew what the man was getting at and as I put my cup to my lips, my tea went down the wrong hole. Forced to cough my way out of it, Ted continued to play innocent.
“I miss those days. I wouldn’t get away with pretending to be Santa now. Not at the age Ollie’s at.”
“You played Santa?”
Ted smiled. “When he was small, yes.” His smile turned to a chuckle. “I’m not saying he wasn’t a bright lad, but not once did he click it was me.”
Watching Ted laugh, my senses heightened. Yes, the old man had thick white hair and a fuzzy beard, but I was seeing a new side to him and it wasn’t just Ted’s appearance that made him the perfect Father Christmas.
“I’ve still got the red suit somewhere.”
“Really?” I asked. Sitting there, I tried to look casual. “Does it still fit?”
Ted’s eyes narrowed and he looked at me direct. “Probably. Why do you ask?” I shifted in my seat, while he put a hand up to stroke his beard. “You didn’t just come here for a table and some chairs, did you?”
I screwed up my face. “To be honest,” I said. “No.”
