Chapter 26
The radio blasted out Christmas hits as she weighed the raisins and currants, putting each ingredient into a small bowl and feeling like a TV chef with her meticulous preparation.
This morning she’d woken up full of adrenaline – the kind of feeling you get when you want to do something, want to take action.
She’d known that it was to do with Lucien and Annabelle and the awful situation they faced – but clearly she was unable to help in that regard.
Instead, she’d decided to bake her own mince pies to bring to the celebrations in two days’ time.
After making Lucien promise he’d ask Annabelle and confirm before he finalised her invitation, she’d received a text message telling her that Annabelle would love her to come. ‘We need distractions right now,’ he’d said. ‘And it would be great to have someone else to play with Matthieu a little.’
In all honesty, the idea of going into such a fragile family situation made her feel a little awkward.
But Lucien had made her feel her role would be as much a gift to them as it was for her.
She’d decided she’d treat them all to an English delicacy – which would either give them a delicious snack or, if they didn’t like them, something to laugh about.
She’d backed out of trying the recipe before for the carol concert, but somehow Lucien’s invitation, his generosity, had made her determined to do something special.
The roads had remained clear; it was cold, and the thick snow remained stubbornly on the lawns and grassy areas, but otherwise a combination of salt and regular car wheels had turned any residual snow to grey, wet mush.
In some ways it was perfect. All the benefits of a potentially white Christmas with none of the drawbacks.
She’d thought about popping into Monsieur Rémi’s when she arrived home, seeing smoke already streaming from his chimney.
He was clearly up and she’d promised herself she’d try to call on him more often; after all, it was bad enough being alone when your aloneness had an end date.
But then she thought, why not bring him some mince pies too?
She’d bought enough ingredients to feed an army.
The recipe itself was pretty straightforward. Soak the fruit for an hour, mix everything together and voila! She was choosing to ignore the recipe’s instruction to then let the mixture rest for at least a fortnight. Time wasn’t on her side. And she was sure it would be OK.
She was just refreshing the screen on her laptop to see whether she’d missed anything when it burst into life with a call from Harriet. She checked her watch. It was 9 a.m., only 8 a.m. back home.
‘Hi, Harriet, everything all right?’
Her sister laughed. ‘I don’t only use the phone for delivering bad news, you know. Sometimes I just ring people for a chat.’
She sounded upbeat, and Nic’s pulse returned to its normal rate. ‘Sorry, it’s just—’
‘One thing after another?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, relax, sis. I’ve spoken to your husband. He did indeed leave his phone at work, which is why he’s been incommunicado.’
‘He has a laptop,’ Nicola pointed out.
‘Nic, he’s a guy. You can’t expect him to be resourceful without you around.’
Nicola laughed. ‘I suppose.’
‘Anyway, he’s been trying to call you and been quite worried as your phone’s just going straight to voicemail. He didn’t think of switching to WhatsApp and trying that way, but like I said…’
‘He’s a man.’
‘Precisely. Seriously though, I probably wouldn’t have done it myself, if you hadn’t answered on your ordinary number.’
‘So what did he say?’ Nic’s impatience to be reassured overruled the conversation. ‘Did you get the impression he was telling the truth? Did he say who the woman was? Has he really been working back-to-back shifts? Are you sure there’s nothing going on—’
‘Woah, woah! One question at a time, maybe? Yes, he definitely left his phone at work. He’s got it now obviously.
When I asked about the woman who’d answered – subtly of course, you know me – he told me he had no idea and it must have been one of the doctors or something.
It was just lying in the staffroom apparently, so quite plausible. ’
‘Hmm, and you were convinced.’
‘Nic! You’ve just got paranoid. This is Steven we’re talking about. Remember Steve? Faithful golden retriever of a guy? The one who’s working with sick children?’
‘I suppose.’
‘There’s no suppose about it. Listen, he’s going to ring you in a bit – he said he finishes at eight thirty – so just talk to him. You’ll feel better, I promise.’
‘OK.’
‘So, what are you up to?’
Nicola explained the mince pies, the invitation she’d had from Lucien. She didn’t mention Annabelle; it was hard to know exactly what to say. ‘So Christmas is saved,’ she said.
‘That’s… I guess that’s great!’
‘You guess?’
‘Listen, I’m sorry to get all Nancy Drew on you, but you’re sure he doesn’t have feelings for you? A little crush on his teacher?’
Nicola shook her head. ‘Definitely not.’
‘And you’ll feel OK spending Christmas with this guy and his family?’
It wasn’t like Harriet to be this negative. ‘Yes! Why not? What’s the alternative?’ she said, her voice clipped and annoyed. ‘Besides, it’s not even Christmas Day. They do their thing on Christmas Eve, so I’ll be on my tod when it comes to the day itself.’
‘Christmas Eve?’
‘Yeah, it’s just the way they do it round here. And did you know they don’t have a Boxing Day?’
‘What do they call it?’
‘It’s nothing. They literally go back to work on the twenty-sixth. Christmas is over.’
‘What, the sacred day when you lie around watching TV and regretting the fact you ate seven thousand calories the day before, while picking over the leftovers of a tin of Quality Street?’
‘That’s right. I guess they just aren’t as dedicated to the season as we are.’
When the call ended, she turned the music up again and tried to get back into the Christmas spirit.
Slade gave way to Ed Sheeran, followed by Paul McCartney’s ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ and she was feeling truly at one with the world when Wham!
started to play. She nodded along to the opening bars, but it was impossible to listen to the song now without her thoughts going to Lucien, his inability to listen to this song.
Suddenly, any confusion she’d felt melted away.
Of course. Christmas, and the giving of a heart.
She skipped the song and hoped that she’d be able to enjoy it again one day. Perhaps everything with Annabelle would work out. Maybe she’d get the heart and survive the operation and maybe everything would be fine. Then the song would take on an almost magical joy.
WhatsApp cut the music and the familiar melody began to play on her laptop. It was Steven. Her heart seemed to skip a beat at the sight of his name. Which was ridiculous. This was simply her husband; she hadn’t felt nervous about a call from him since they were first dating.
‘Hi,’ she said after swiping to accept the call.
‘Hi yourself.’ His face appeared on the screen. He looked tired, but he was smiling.
‘Maybe turn your camera on?’ he said. ‘It’d be nice to see you.’
She did a quick assessment of how awful she must look, but then realised that Steven had seen her in much worse conditions than this, so unlocked the camera icon.
‘Hello!’ he said again when she appeared on screen. ‘Looking good, Mrs Smith.’
‘Looking good yourself.’ It was so easy just to fall back into conversation with him.
And suddenly seeing him, hearing him, her doubts about him seemed silly, far-fetched.
She smiled at him, trying to look into his eyes rather than at the little picture of herself in the corner.
Flour in her hair, a big bowl almost obscuring the view.
‘Sorry about the long absence. Harriet told you about my phone? I left it in a café and some waitress answered for me.’
‘The café? I thought you left it on the ward?’
‘Did she say that? No, it was in the café. Anyway, no matter. We’ve got hold of each other now.’
‘Yes. That’s true I suppose.’
‘And yours is broken? I was quite worried when I couldn’t get hold of you.’
‘Yeah, it’s been a bit of a nightmare. I’m going to get another one. Just haven’t got around to it.’
‘I assumed you’d run off with your handsome art student.’ He raised an eyebrow, smiled so that she knew it was a joke.
‘Very funny.’ Although she wondered for a moment whether he had had similar concerns to hers.
She hadn’t been answering her phone either, and although Steven hadn’t had to endure the shock of a stranger answering and fuelling his suspicions, it couldn’t have been easy for him either.
It was the distance, the time apart driving them both mad.
She hoped he’d be able to come over soon.
Hoped they’d be able to connect properly before things between them stretched too thin.
As it was, she’d make sure they once again spoke every day.
She hadn’t called him, too preoccupied with worry about the woman – the doctor, Harriet had said?
Or waitress? – who had answered his phone to want to speak to him.
Forgetting he might be calling her on her broken mobile and failing to get through.
‘Harriet tells me you’re now sorted for Christmas? Or Christmas Eve at least?’
‘Yeah, Lucien and his family have invited me. So…’
‘Cool. But you’ll be back, right? That night? You’re not staying or anything?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I won’t drink. And I’ll drive home and leave them to it.
I don’t want to intrude too much on their family time.
’ Again, the idea of explaining Lucien’s situation felt too much, and honestly she wasn’t sure if it was her information to pass along.
‘Anyway, I’ll need to get home, so Gabi won’t be alone. ’
‘Gabi?’ His brow furrowed.
‘The kitten. Short for Gabrielle.’
He laughed. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were turning into quite a cat lover.’
‘Well, you never know. She’s definitely growing on me.’
There was a silence. It was so lovely, hearing his voice. She didn’t want to break the mood. But then she realised, she had to know. ‘Was it a waitress or a doctor who answered?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I thought you left your phone at work, but didn’t you just say it was a café? A waitress.’
‘Oh.’ He sounded momentarily confused. ‘Oh, it was the work café. That’s what I meant. It could have been a waitress or a doctor, or some other kind soul. I’m not sure.’
‘Right.’
‘Does it matter?’
She sighed. ‘I suppose not. As long as there’s nothing you need to tell me? No hot new doctor on the scene?’ She tried to smile.
He smiled back. ‘What do you think?’
‘All right. I’ll take your word for it.’
There was a pause on the line, then Steven’s expression changed. ‘Work’s calling, I’ll have to get it. I’ve been waiting. Do you mind?’
‘No, it’s fine. Call me b—’
But the line was dead.