Page 76 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 46
Ismothered my hands in washing-up liquid and stuck them under the tap, grimacing as I tried to rid them of any grease. If I’d thought any prior manhandling of the turkey had been bad, that was nothing compared to what I’d just been through. I glanced over at the carcass of bones, not for the first time appreciating the merits of a microwave meal. My frown continued. From that day forward, if I never saw a whole turkey again it would be too soon.
A knock at the front door caught my attention and grabbing a tea towel, I gave my fingers and palms a thorough drying as I went to answer.
“Merry Christmas,” Oliver said.
“No Ted?” I replied, surprised to see him standing there on his own.
“Afraid not. He’s snowed in.”
A look of horror swept across my face, and while I pictured the old man, alone and stuck in the middle of nowhere, Frank fast appeared from the lounge, ready to greet his friend.
Oliver reached down, continuing to talk as he gave the dog a fuss. “Don’t worry,” he replied. “Granddad will be here. Barrowboy’s out with his snow plough clearing the roads as we speak.”
“That’s good of him,” I said, part relieved and part shocked. Those last few days, I was beginning to see Barrowboy in a whole new light.
“One of the few downsides to being so remote. The council doesn’t always get round to doing it for us. Anyway…” He held up a carrier bag for my attention. “I come bearing gifts.”
I smiled as I stood aside to let him in. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t have everything you need, so I gave the shop a knock on my way over.”
“You didn’t?” I couldn’t believe Oliver’s cheek. “I bet Marianne was impressed.”
“Actually, once I’d explained I was there on your behalf, she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t open up the place quick enough.”
I looked at Oliver, aghast. “Lewis was there too?”
He nodded.
I didn’t know which surprised me more – the fact that neither Lewis nor Marianne told Oliver to go away, or that the two of them were spending Christmas Day together.
“Where do you want this?” Again, he indicated the bag. “And is there anything I can do to help?” He took off his coat and hung it on the bottom of the banister.
“There is actually.” I led the way into the kitchen. “Could you please get rid of that for me.” I indicated the mass of turkey bones, unable to bring myself to touch them again.
“And waste a good basis for a stock? Sit it in two litres of water, add a couple of onions, carrots, celery sticks and a bit of seasoning. Bring to the boil, simmer, and voila!”
I laughed. “Who knew? A chef and a letting agent.”
Oliver placed the bag on the kitchen table. Stepping towards me, he put his arms around my waist. Lips closed and eyes open, he gave me a lingering kiss. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said. “If you think my abilities in the kitchen are impressive…” He kissed me again. “You want to see me in the bedroom.”
Not doubting his claim for one second, if I didn’t have guests due, I’d have been tempted to forget all caution and lead the man upstairs there and then. I pressed my hips against his, suddenly aware that he’d have let me too. I smiled.
“And that’s just one of the reasons you should stay,” he said.
Telling myself Oliver wasn’t the only one who could be a tease, I went in for another kiss. “Let’s just say I’m still thinking about it,” I said, before quickly letting go of him. I headed to the fridge and pulled out the big bowl of potatoes, smiling in the knowledge that they weren’t the only things that were parboiled and fluffed up. I handed them to Oliver. “In the meantime, if you chop these up into rectangles for me.” I took a knife out of the cutlery drawer and held it out for him to take.
Oliver laughed. “Your wish is my command.”
Observing him roll up his shirt sleeves and get to work, I felt torn. Oliver made staying on in Little Leatherington sound so easy. But it was all right for him. He wasn’t the one being asked to uproot his life. Then again, as I pictured the property agents I’d dealt with down in London, with their shiny shoes and slick patter, even if Oliver had offered to make the move instead, I appreciated he would never fit in. He wouldn’t be happy.
“It’s a risk for both of us,” he said, as if reading my mind. Oliver turned to look at me. “But in my view, some things are worth it.”
I picked up the carrier bag and began emptying it of its contents, neatly lining up the jars of paprika, cayenne pepper, oregano, thyme and dried onion and making sure they were perfectly straight, I told myself that that was the problem. I wasn’t one for taking chances. When it came to people in general, I didn’t trust easily and while I knew in many ways I was quirky, unconventional, and could speak my mind, when it came to matters of the heart, I was an all or nothing woman. Having seen the damage done when relationships didn’t work out, I was convinced mum never really got over the fact that dad left us without a second glance. And like Lizzie had pointed out when talking about her own situation, she wasn’t the only one left holding the baby; there were millions of single parents out there. Oliver might not have been talking about us starting a family, but I still hoped to become a mum one day. So while Oliver might have been right in his words, I couldn’t help but question if he’d be saying the same thing in six months’ time, let alone six years. Or by then, would he be taking ariskon someone else?
Oliver put his knife down and taking the carrier bag off me, twisted me round to face him. “Whatever this is, whatever’s going on between us, I’m not going to put pressure on it. If that means taking things slowly and doing things long distance until we figure it all out, then count me in. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you want me to?”
Standing there, I couldn’t bring myself to reply one way or the other.
Oliver kissed me on the forehead. “Look, why don’t you go and get yourself ready? Everyone will be here soon. Tell me what we’re having, and I can get started.”
I picked up my phone and showed Oliver the recipe.
His eyes widened and he let out a laugh. “You’re joking.” He looked over at all the spices. “I thought we were having a curry.”
I chuckled, glad of the light relief. “When it comes to me and cooking, I assure you, simple is best.”
“Okay, then,” Oliver said, continuing to smile as he got back to his chopping. “Deep fried turkey and chips it is.”
