Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
EVIE
‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Evans. Merry Christmas, Monty. Happy holidays, Martin.’ The waiter pulled out a chair for me.
‘Happy holidays, Evie, and thank you for a lovely party last night. That was real fun,’ he said.
‘Pleasure,’ I said. ‘You’ve all looked after me so well.’
‘All part of the service.’ He nodded. ‘Now, can I get you ladies a mimosa?’
Mrs Evans sniffed. ‘Mimosa my ass, Martin. Give me a straight champagne. It’s the holidays.’ She winked at me. ‘And Evie will have the same.’
‘Excellent choice, madam,’ said Martin with a wry smile. ‘And anything for Monty?’
‘Champagne plays havoc with his digestion. A bowl of water will be fine, thank you.’
Martin retreated and Mrs Evans turned to me. ‘Now, my dear, you must call me Reine. It is Christmas, after all, and I don’t think we should be standing on ceremony anymore.’
‘That’s a lovely name,’ I said.
‘I know and rather fitting. It’s the French word for Queen. Oh, look at those dear little girls, the Greenford Family.’ She waved over at them.
‘Happy holidays, Mrs Evans,’ said Mrs Greenford coming over with the youngest of her girls who was dressed in the cutest little black velvet dress with a taffeta tartan skirt and a matching bow in her hair. ‘Hello, Evie. Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ I replied, as usual struck by how calm and serene she always appeared. At her side, Sasha bounced on the spot like a little jack-in-the-box.
‘Happy holidays.’ She held up a wrist decorated with an assortment of friendship braids. ‘Santa came. He found us.’ She nodded and then added confidingly, ‘He always finds us.’
‘Of course he does, darling,’ said Mrs Evans. ‘He’s very clever like that.’
‘I made these. There’s one for you.’ From her pocket she produced a little wrapped package and gave it to Reine. ‘And one for you, Evie.’
‘Can we open them now?’ asked Reine.
‘Yes. Sorry I haven’t got one for Monty, but Mummy thought that it would be dangerous to have on his neck.’
Mrs Evans beamed at Mrs Greenford. ‘How thoughtful,’ she said, opening the little parcel. Inside was a friendship braid woven in hues of purple, orange and lime green.
I followed suit to find one of sky-blue and lime green. ‘Gorgeous. Thank you so much Sasha,’ I said, touched that I’d been included.
‘Oh, isn’t that lovely,’ exclaimed Mrs Evans – it was taking me a little adjustment to think of her as Reine. She immediately held out an imperious wrist. ‘I have to wear it right now.’ With great delight the little girl tied it on to her wrist.
‘I think Monty might be a bit jealous,’ Mrs Evans declared. ‘Thank you so much. I asked Santa to bring you a little something, too. It’s probably on your table.’
‘Really?’ The little girl’s eyes widened, and she looked hopefully towards the table.
‘That’s really kind of you, Reine. You really shouldn’t.’
‘I know,’ said Reine and then after a brief pause she gave Mrs Greenford one of her classic mischievous grins. ‘But I get so much pleasure out of it. They are sweethearts.’
‘These are for you.’ Mrs Greenford handed over a large box of Godiva chocolates.
‘You’re very naughty, too. Are you trying to sabotage my waistline?’
‘Of course,’ said Mrs Greenford, glancing over at her husband. ‘Duty calls. Have a lovely day and we’ll see you later in the lounge for the carols.’
Mrs Evans held up her wrist to admire the little braid. ‘I’m not going to take this off until I go home. It will go with everything. It’s perfect.’
Sasha bobbed a little curtsy and dashed away.
It seemed the right time to offer my gifts.
‘Here you go. One for Monty and one for you.’
‘Oh, how kind of you!’ trilled Reine. ‘I do love presents. My first husband was wonderful at buying gifts.’ She lifted a diamond pendant hanging at her throat. ‘He bought this for our thirtieth wedding anniversary.’
‘Very nice,’ I said. It was very beautiful, tasteful and discreet but very, very sparkly.
‘How many husbands have you had?’
She laughed. ‘Just the one. Sadly, he died ten years ago, and lovely as he was, he was troublesome. It’s so much easier at my age living on my own. I can be deliciously selfish.’
Her eyes danced with their customary, naughty twinkle.
Then she sobered. ‘But it gets lonely. Life is a long road when you’re on your own.
It’s so much more fun when it’s shared.’ She glanced around the room as if she didn’t want to be overheard.
‘I miss him terribly.’ She clutched the diamond between her fingers, and I realised it was a familiar gesture.
‘That’s why I come here every year. I can’t bear being on my own at this time of year.
Everyone is busy with their families, and I hate being the ghastly old hanger-on – the spectre at the feast as it were. ’
‘You don’t have any family?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘Wilf and I left it too late. Too busy with our work. I don’t regret it. We had a ball. Children would have slowed us down.’
I nodded. I eyed Sasha on the other side of the room, laughing with her sister as she tugged off the wrapping paper.
‘So, what happened with Noah?’ Mrs E went straight for the jugular. ‘If I’d known you were throwing him over, I’d have made a pitch.’
‘Who said I threw him over?’ I tried to sound cocky and failed miserably, I sounded more like a sulky teenager.
‘Because he was smitten, girl. I can tell, especially as the man can’t keep his eyes off you.’
‘He left,’ I said with a shrug, grateful that Noah wasn’t around to identify it for what it was. ‘We had a disagreement. The end.’
‘You’re giving up far too easily.’
‘Not really,’ I replied. ‘It’s not as if it were a proper thing.
Circumstances brought us together for a short period.
A Christmas-holiday affair. We had fun, and now after Christmas everything goes back to normal, doesn’t it?
All the decorations get put away. You eat all the leftovers and life carries on. ’
‘Aren’t you the cheery one.’
‘Christmas is just one day. Beneath the tinsel there’s no real sparkle.’
‘Wash your mouth out, Evie Green. Christmas is about building traditions and sharing the joy. It gets us through the long winter days. I don’t have any family, but I can still enjoy the season.
You can give a lot; you don’t have to receive.
In fact, giving is much more fun.’ She smiled and looked over at the Greenford family. ‘They’re having a lovely time.’
Sasha waved and then jumped off her chair and came racing over, clutching a Barbie in one hand.
‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I love her. She’s my favourite present. Mommy says you chose it for Santa.’
‘I did.’
‘And Daddy got a Ken doll!’ Her eyes were round with awe.
‘I think he probably needs it with all the ladies in the house,’ said Mrs Evans, her wrinkles deepening as she chuckled.
‘That’s what he said,’ said Sacha before she darted back to the table.
‘Did you buy that?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I thought he’d see the funny side of it.’
We both glanced across the room and Mr Greenford raised the Ken doll and waved it with a big grin on his face.
‘I think he does,’ I said, loving that despite us all being in a big hotel where it might have been very impersonal, there was still a strong sense of community.
‘Ladies, your champagne, and would you like to help yourselves at the buffet?’
‘Lovely, thank you, Martin.’
My mouth watered as I considered the glistening roast turkey, glossy glazed hams, golden beef Wellingtons.
What to have? Then there was an extensive seafood selection, with orange-veined lobster, plump pink prawns and dressed crab, along with a range of sauces.
There were roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, potato dauphinoise, new potatoes and even chips, along with creamed kale, roast parsnips, baked carrots, red cabbage and big jugs of steaming gravy.
And of course, there were stuffing balls, pigs in blankets (although they were in pastry blankets rather than bacon – still looked delicious) as well as cranberry sauce, mustard and even tomato ketchup.
It was hard not to go crazy, and around us several people had piled their plates high with considerable engineering prowess.
Managing some restraint, I opted for a seafood starter of prawns, a tiny bit of lobster and some salad before going back for roast potatoes, beef Wellington, parsnips and carrots covered in a ton of gravy.
Even Monty had his own plate of turkey, gravy and a couple of little sausages.
We drank a delicious red wine, which Mrs Evans ordered, and she told me all about the places she’d lived in the States.
‘I love New York. I always come back, but there are some wonderful places to visit. Definitely Alaska. And some of the national parks. Yosemite’s one of my favourites but it gets very busy in the summer. And you should visit Long Island. I have a place there. Come stay this summer.’
I smiled knowing that people said these things but didn’t really mean them.
‘This is a once-in-a-lifetime trip,’ I said.
‘Why? You wouldn’t have to pay for accommodation in Amagansett. And you could come and go as you please. The beach there is wonderful.’
‘I…’ I genuinely didn’t know what to say. ‘I never thought past getting to New York and now I’m here…’ I swallowed. ‘I’m all out of ambition.’
‘Well, that can change,’ said Mrs Evans – I was never going to be able to call her Reine. She smiled, her kind eyes studying me.
I gulped down a glug of wine, feeling tears swimming in my eyes. ‘I think I need to do a lot of changing.’