Chapter Nine
Ollie rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, those are good chips.”
I laughed. “Whenever Mike passed that place late at night, just before they closed, he would stick his head through the door and yell ‘got any chips left?’ When they told him they did, he would reply ‘then you shouldn’t have made so many, should you?’” He could still hear Mike telling the story, still see his gleeful expression.
Ollie pointed to a photo frame standing on the mantelpiece. “Is that Mike?”
I nodded, staring at the photo I’d taken when we were on holiday one year in Wales.
Mike was sitting on a low wall, Lake Bala behind him, the mountains to the rear reflected in its still waters.
He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, and a white T-shirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination.
His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but he was smiling.
“I see what you mean about him and Jay getting along. He liked to work out, didn’t he?”
“I used to joke that even his muscles were developing muscles.” At least the recollection drew a smile. A few years ago, I’d have reacted very differently.
Ollie glanced around the flat. “This is a nice place you have here.”
I agreed. “I bought it when I’d been at my job a few years and could finally afford a place of my own.
” It was a light airy space, and what I liked best about the living room were its French doors that opened out onto the private garden.
Not that either of us had been keen gardeners.
In fact, there was very little visible earth left out there.
Mike had seen to that. Most of the ground was covered with decking.
A small patio table and chairs stood near the house.
“Those are nice.” Ollie pointed to three framed sketches on the wall.
“Thank you. I did those.” They were drawings I’d done during our Welsh holiday, simple landscapes with a touch of watercolour.
Ollie stared at them. “Seriously? Wow. You have talent.”
I flushed. “Again, thank you.” Mike used to tell me I was crap at accepting praise. He was the one who’d insisted I had the sketches framed.
I collected the papers from the fish and chips, screwed them up and threw them into the bin. The tree was still standing in its net in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
“Do you have a stand for the tree?”
“Yep. I’ll get it.” I went into the hall cupboard, stepping over boxes and the vacuum cleaner, to find the heavy stand right at the back. I brought it into the living room and placed it in the middle of the floor. Ollie smiled when he saw it.
“That’s beautiful.”
I had to agree. It was an octagonal stand in a bronze-coloured metal. Around the base were reindeer and sleighs. In the centre was a deep reservoir for the tree trunk, with four metal screws protruding into it, and a spike poking up from the bottom.
“Okay, where is your saw?”
I blinked. “Saw?”
Ollie nodded. “How else are you going to take off the base of the tree trunk?”
Okay, I was truly confused. “Why would I want to do that?”
Ollie’s mouth opened slightly. “Well, how else do you expect it to take a drink?”
I bit my lip. “You want the tree… to have a drink?”
Ollie stared at me, apparently horrified.
“Well, yes, unless you want all the needles to fall off.” When I pointed to the label that clearly said non-drop, he rolled his eyes.
“That’s not the point. You cut off a couple of inches from the base, then you drill a hole into its centre so that it fits easier onto that spike, and it’s easier for it to take in water.
” He peered at me. “Your Christmas trees in the past… they all lost their needles, didn’t they? ”
“Of course. That’s what Christmas trees do. It’s one of the joys of Christmas, clearing up the needles that fall every day.”
Ollie gave a heavy sigh. “That’s why you water the tree.
If you do that, it holds onto its needles for longer.
Plus, it stops the tree from drying out.
All you need is for one of the lights to get too hot, and the whole thing’ll go up like…
well, like a Christmas tree.” He cocked his head to one side.
“Why do you think forest fires catch the way they do?”
“Okay, okay, I get it. The tree needs water.” I thought it was kind of cute, Ollie lecturing me.
He folded his arms, smirking. “You don’t have a saw, do you?”
“Yes, I have a saw someplace,” I retorted.
“Mike’s uncle sent him a toolbox one Christmas.
I don’t think he ever touched it.” The memory made me smile.
“Mike wasn’t the most practical of creatures.
I’m pretty sure there’s a saw in there.” In fact, I’d stepped over the toolbox in the cupboard in my search for the stand.
I went back and peered inside. Sure enough, there was a saw.
Ollie, meanwhile, had picked up the tree, carried it through the living room, opened the French doors, and stepped out onto the deck.
The security lights flooded the area. I handed him the saw, and he removed about two inches from the base of the trunk.
Then he came indoors and rummaged in the toolbox for a sharp-looking implement.
He went back to the tree and made a hole in the centre of the base.
Finally, he came back inside, carrying the tree.
“Where are you going to put it?”
I pointed to the corner near the window. “It normally goes there.”
It took us about fifteen minutes to get the tree standing upright and centred.
Ollie held it firmly when I got down on the floor and took turns adjusting the screws so that they evenly pierced the trunk.
When they were all the way in, the tree could stand on its own.
Ollie went in search of a jug to fill with water.
He got down on his knees and carefully poured it into the reservoir that held the tree trunk.
“If you put your finger inside, you can feel the base at the bottom of each screw. You don’t want to go past that, or you’ll have the water leaking out. You need to keep it topped up every day. So just put your finger inside to feel where the level of the water is.”
I really liked Ollie’s practical manner. “I guess this is Christmas trees 101.”
Ollie grinned. “You’ll thank me when you don’t have to vacuum up pine needles every day. Now, where are the decorations?”
“I’ll have to go out for those. They’re in the garage behind the house.
” Not that there was a car in there: the space was filled with boxes and the usual bric-a-brac.
I pulled on my jacket and went outside to walk along the line of white painted houses, before turning the corner to reach the little back lane where all the garages stood.
By the time I was back in the house with the box, I was shivering.
Ollie took one look at the box’s contents and sighed. “Yeah. You’re gonna need more.” He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. “I should really get going.” He gave me a warm smile. “I’ve had a great evening.”
I returned the smile. “Me too. Do you think you can find your way back to the Tube station?”
Ollie chuckled. “Jay used to swear I had a lodestone in my head. He called me his navigator bunny.” He paused. “And that’s the first time in a while that thought has made me smile.” He gave me a speculative glance. “This weekend, are we still on for skating?”
“Of course.” I grinned. “We just need to agree that we’re not shooting any video. No one needs to see this.”
Ollie laughed. “You never know. You could be the next Christopher Dean.”
I sorely doubted that. I walked Ollie to the door, said goodbye, and watched him walk along the front path to the gate. When he was out of sight, I closed the door, then locked and bolted it. I came back into the living room and stared at the tree.
“Wow.” Mike shook his head. “Wherever you go in the room, you’re next to it.” He glanced at the box of decorations. “It’s still gonna look bare when you’ve added all that lot.”
He had a point.
Mike crouched beside the box of decorations, gazing at its contents. “There are a lot of memories in here.”
“And I’m keeping them.” I could have told him where we’d bought every single piece.
Mike nodded. “Now it’s time to add to them.” He got to his feet. “I think it’s beautiful. And when it’s covered with lights and decs, it’s going to look amazing.”
Shit. Lights. I was going to need a hell of a lot more lights.
“Ollie has a good laugh.” Before I could respond, Mike had done his fadeout. The first thought that came to my mind was that he was right. Ollie had a great laugh, and it had been a while since anyone had laughed in that flat.
Thursday. Thirteen days to Christmas
I’d just taken my morning break and was pouring myself a coffee when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out to see a text from Ollie.
Got a minute?
I hit call. “Good timing. What’s up?”
“I know this is going to sound odd, but… I’ve got something for you, and I’d like to bring it round on tomorrow night. If you’re not doing anything, that is.”
I wasn’t about to tell him I never did anything on a Friday night. “This sounds very mysterious.”
“I know. I can’t tell you what I’m bringing, because I want it to be a surprise. But I will bring dinner, how’s that? Even if it’s a ready meal from Tesco that I pick up on the way.”
“Make it a chicken korma with naan bread and you’re on.”
“Oh, a Friday night Indian. I can do that. So it’s a yes?”
“What time were you thinking of?”
“Maybe seven? That’ll give you time to get home from work, shower, whatever.”
I told him that was fine. “I’m making a detour on my way home tonight. I need to go to B&Q for some more Christmas tree lights. I realized that once I put on the ones I already have, you won’t even see them on this tree.”
“Always go for more than you think you need. I usually have about five hundred on my tree.”
I laughed. “That makes my one hundred and fifty sound pitiful.” I had to admit I was intrigued. “Oh, come on. Just one clue?”
“No clues. But you’ll like it.”
His confidence made me smile. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” A thought occurred to me. “What do you drink? Apart from spiced rum and coke.” Now that I thought about it, when was the last time I bought a bottle of rum?
“I’d already thought of that. I’m bringing a couple of bottles of mulled wine. All we have to do is warm it.”
A Friday night with Ollie, a surprise, chicken korma, and a glass or two of mulled wine. It sounded perfect.
“I’ll see you at the flat then.” We said our goodbyes and I disconnected. I took my coffee back to my desk and sat in my chair, staring at the monitor but not really seeing it. I couldn’t decide whether my good mood was due to the prospect of company, or the fact that it was Ollie.