Love At Christmas, Actually. Jenny Oliver
‘Well, we thought we’d go down to the Christmas Fayre in the village, play some games, hear the carols.’ Heather winked. ‘Eat lots of junk food. What do you think?’
Skye nodded. ‘I think it’s the best idea ever, don’t you, Mum?’
Megan nodded, completely aware that her daughter was creating a diversion, especially as she winked at her when she knew Heather wasn’t looking.
They disappeared to get ready for the walk down to the village, and Megan grabbed Skye’s hand.
‘What are you doing, Pink Panther?’
‘What?’ Skye made her eyes wide and innocent, raising her eyebrows. But her smirk gave her away.
‘Your questions, your diversions, your “devoted to grandma” routine. Don’t think you’re fooling me, kid.’
‘I don’t need to fool you, I need to fool them,’ Skye said seriously. ‘It’s sleuthing practice.’
‘Why do you need to practise?’ Megan raised an eyebrow, helping Skye into her padded winter coat. Her two pigtails hung out from the big fur-lined hood, making her suddenly look so much younger, so much more innocent. No doubt Skye had chosen her outfit especially for this purpose, as part of ‘Project Make Grandma Adore Me’. Evil genius.
‘Because skills take practice. Plus, I’m getting you out of situations. So I’m being useful.’
Megan knelt in front of her, holding out her gloves, an eyebrow raised. ‘You don’t have to be useful, my love, because you are absolutely necessary.’
Skye frowned at her, bemused.
‘I just mean you don’t have to keep saving my arse.’ Megan paused. ‘Bum. Don’t tell them I said arse.’
‘Twice,’ Skye grinned, and took her mum’s hand. ‘So, this fayre thing, it happens every Christmas?’
They wandered out to the front of the house to wait for their hosts, who were probably gossiping about Jeremy the Gay Performer whilst getting ready.
‘Yep, every year. It’s pretty fun. Or it was, anyway. Your granddad is extraordinarily gifted with the Hook A Duck games. Get him to win you something.’
Skye’s brow furrowed. ‘Where’s the fun in that? I want to win it for myself.’
Megan grinned, putting her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. ‘Two hot chocolates for you today, kid. Or two treats of whatever kind you want.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re a wonderful person, and I’m your mum, and it’s Christmas. So there.’ Megan stuck out her tongue. Her parents arrived, wrapped up in the same winter clothes they’d had since she could remember, and off they went down the steep hill to town.
The village had changed a fair bit in the last ten years, Megan noted. Not necessarily the people, or the feel of it, but a few bits here and there. The existence of a Subway, the Costa Coffee on the corner. There were still the independents, the butchers, the bakery that she hung out in one summer, obsessed with the boy behind the till who gave her free donuts. The strange pottery cafe that no one ever seemed to go to, but never disappeared. They walked past Vittorio’s, a posh Italian restaurant she’d waited tables at every Saturday night since she was sixteen. It looked exactly the same inside, pristine, with the waiters in penguin suits. She’d hated that job. Hated Marco, the owner, and how he talked to them all. But the tips had been good, and the free dinners were almost worth the abuse. Heather had made her give up the job once exam season started, but she wasn’t too bothered by that point. It was strange to think the money she made from Marco had given her and Skye their start. But he was still an arse.
They reached the High Street, where the festivities were in full swing. Market stalls and Christmas lights were everywhere, to a soundtrack of carollers in the middle of the square. They stood before a grand Christmas tree, lit up, sparkling in the dull greyness of the afternoon. The voices were angelic, and yes, there was Mr Turner, still conducting the choir with his audacious movements, always overzealous as he started sweating through his woolly hat.
Skye was holding Heather’s hand as they moved through the crowd, and Megan relaxed, allowing herself to be transported back to the childhood days of the fayre. The year they won the raffle, the year Matty drank so much hot apple cider he was sick behind Santa’s grotto. The year she and Lucas played their own version of Christmas carols in the square to raise money for charity, and everyone was so kind, so generous, so proud of them. She shook the thought away like it was smoke.
‘Hook a duck!’ Skye said loudly, pointing.
Jonathan looked at Megan with glee, rubbing his hands together, then ran off with her daughter, as she dragged him along. That left her slowly walking with her mother.
‘He’s so excited she’s here,’ Heather said by her side, neither taking their eyes away from the pair.
‘She’s so like him. Inquisitive, always wanting an answer. Everything always has to make sense.’ Megan smiled into the distance, thinking of how many answers she had never had for her daughter. Her smile dimmed a little.
‘That must be exhausting.’
‘It’s kind of a thrill.’
‘I…’ Her mother paused. ‘I’m really excited you’re here too. Both of you.’
‘Good.’ She still couldn’t quite bear to have this conversation face to face with her mother, instead of adjacent. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment still sitting in her eyes. ‘At some point we’re going to have to have it all out. You know that, right?’
‘I know,’ her mother said quietly, ‘but it’s nice to pretend until then.’
They day passed pleasantly enough, playing the games, hearing the music. Megan, true to her word, bought Skye both a hot chocolate and a gingerbread cookie. As they were leaving to walk back up the hill, infused with the joyousness of the event, the smell of hot apple cider and the twinkle of the bells on the baby reindeer’s collar as he walked about his pen, Megan was stopped by a hand on her arm.
‘Megan McAllister!’ a woman’s voice called out, and all she could think was please don’t be Belinda. Please. More than that, please don’t be Belinda married to Lucas with hundreds of awful babies. Please, that’s all I’m asking.
She turned around and was faced with the excited bundle of energy that was Estelle Williams. Estelle had been a bit of a dark horse, in that she’d been the librarian at school when Megan was studying, despite only being twenty-three herself. She’d disappeared off to uni, and returned to their little town with a few piercings and tattoos, and a penchant for rockabilly. And became the school librarian. No one could figure out why she’d done it, or why they hired her. But she’d helped Megan with her university applications, and had shown her a ridiculous amount of kindness over the years.
‘Estelle! It’s so great to see you!’ She embraced her.
Estelle looked the same, her red hair in victory curls, her thick framed glasses perched on the end of her pierced nose. Her coat looked like it was straight from Little Red Riding hood, a fitted and flared number with big gold buttons and a black fur trim. She looked like Mrs Santa’s naughty younger sister.
‘I thought that was you, you’re back!’
‘Just for the holidays.’ She pointed over at Skye and her parents. ‘Wanted my little one to meet my parents.’
Estelle grabbed her hand, dark red lipstick curving into a genuine smile. ‘That is wonderful, darling, honestly. You can tell me all about it tomorrow when you meet me for drinks.’
‘I…um…’
Estelle raised a drawn-on eyebrow. ‘Your parents will want to spend time with their grandkid, right? Plus, the Nag’s Head have started doing cocktails.