Snow Angels, Secrets and Christmas Cake (17 page)

Slipping off my shoes, I wandered over to the white deer, I had this sudden child-like urge to sit on it. With some effort I mounted it and was soon looking down at all the white Christmas splendour. I felt small, like a little girl again. I stroked the deer’s neck, whispering gently that everything would be fine, but when I looked up the door had opened and Hugo was watching me. My son seemed to have a knack for catching me in strange situations and just when I’d managed to convince him of my sanity, he’d witness me doing something inappropriate or weird again.

‘I was just... I was just riding the deer,’ I said, unable to think of anything else. I suppose it made a change from internet sex and romping with the gardener.

‘Ma,’ he said, incredulously. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘I don’t know, Hugo... everything I suppose,’ I sighed, big tears dropping onto the deer’s white fur. I expected Hugo to leave, he was a young man now and his mother’s actions embarrassed him at the best of times, but this was the worst of times. For a few seconds we looked at each other – what a tableau we made, a crazy middle-aged homeless woman on a life-size deer and her poor student son at a total loss as to what he should do. But then he came over to me, as I sat atop the deer, and he put his arm around my waist and hugged me close.

‘I don’t know what to do, Hugo,’ I said, stroking his hair like I had when he was little. I’d vowed never to let my kids see me vulnerable, my mother had been vulnerable all her life and I’d watched her succumb to my father. He’d turned her into a weak wretch who couldn’t even protect her own child. I grew to hate her as much as I’d hated him. I had no respect for the woman who cowered in corners preserving herself while her own daughter was beaten... but who knew what drove her? Who knew what her demons were and her mother’s before her? My Dad wasn’t the only one I had to learn to forgive.

‘You were always the one who knew what to do,’ Hugo said, rubbing my back.

I nodded and tried to smile. ‘And I will again, Hugo, don’t worry... ‘

‘I’ll never forgive Dad for doing this to us,’ he sighed.

‘Your dad couldn’t cope, but I have to take some responsibility, Hugo, I never asked him about the business, never shared his worries or picked up on anything. Dad probably hates himself far more than you hate him - don’t carry it around with you all your life, it’ll only destroy you - forgive him, let it go.’ I didn’t want my kids to miss out on a relationship with their father – he may not have been a good husband, but with time he could still be a good dad.

‘It will take a while – he’s phoned me and Hermione, but we won’t pick up.’

‘Do me a favour, next time, pick up – for me.’

We hugged and within seconds Hermione had walked into the room.

‘I thought you’d gone to Kate’s?’

‘Nah, she’s straightening her hair – I mean how can she control her life if she can’t control her hair? Doh.’

I nodded, bemused and confused... perhaps hair straightening was all part of the heteroflexible lifestyle? I didn’t ask.

‘Anyway, what crazy shit is going down in here?’ she said.

‘Are you referring to the three million quid’s worth of Christmas stuff lying around? Or do you mean crazy shit, like Ma sitting on a stationary Rudolph?’ Hugo recovered himself quickly, wiping his eyes and moving away from me lest his little sister see his vulnerability.

I climbed down from the deer – with the help of both my kids – and asked them if they’d both step outside with me. As we walked into the hallway, Sam and Jacob appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a big box of Hugo’s old Lego.

‘We’re going outside, come with us?’ I said.

They looked at each other – no doubt concerned at what this mad old smoke-singed woman was going to do next, but they followed me anyway.

As they all put on their wellingtons and coats in the porch, I slipped into my Louboutins and held both my children’s hands as I had done when they were little. The three of us stood in the middle of our huge lawn and waited for Sam and Jacob to join us.

‘Snow angels?’ Sam said, with a twinkle in her eye.

‘Snow angels,’ I confirmed with a smile and Sam and I both lay down in the snow as the others watched in barely concealed horror (my kids) and unbridled joy (Jacob).

Sam and I both giggling made star shapes in the crunchy whiteness and were immediately joined by Jacob.

‘Dudes, this is some crazy shit,’ Hermione said, lying down next to Jacob, who repeated exactly what she said. Hugo and Hermione roared laughing at Jacob’s ‘crazy shit,’ comment and I wanted to laugh too but couldn’t let Jacob think this was funny.

‘You do realise he’ll say that at school now and I will be hauled before the headmistress?’ Sam said.

I caught her eye, she was about to tell Jacob off, but she ended up laughing along with the kids and I joined in.

When we’d eventually stopped laughing, I made everyone form a circle, lying down in the snow, our legs banging into one another and our noses almost dropping off with the cold. We lay for ages in the deep, white silence, snowflakes hurtling down and melting on our faces, our lips and eyelashes. We talked about the fire and how lucky we’d been to have survived, and we talked about the future.

‘I’m selling everything and giving the money to Auntie Sam,’ I said.

‘No you’re not, I was stupid pinning all my dreams onto the bakery in the first place. What kind of businesswoman am I? One old van, a faulty oven... I was asking for trouble. I have no savings left, and one gust of wind and I was down. No, I need to be realistic and stop dreaming,’ Sam sighed.

‘No, you must never stop dreaming.’ I said, half-sitting up. ‘That’s what I did – I stopped dreaming years ago and look what happened. Sam, I won’t let you give this up - I’m going to sell everything and get your dream back,’ I announced.

‘Oh Ma, you are such a drama queen,’ Hermione said.

We all laughed at that and lying in the snow, looking up at a dense, white sky we talked about what we would do at Christmas and then we moved on to past Christmases.

‘One Christmas Eve I remember Auntie Sam and I creeping out into the night and lying in the snow for ages.’

‘I remember,’ said Sam. ‘We were waiting for Father Christmas.’

‘Did your mummy and daddy tell you off?’ Jacob asked.

‘No,’ Sam giggled. ‘No one even noticed we’d gone – and Father Christmas never came.’

‘Ma... Sam... I hate to break it to you, but Father Christmas doesn’t exist,’ Hugo monotoned.

‘Don’t be stupid, Hugo, of course he does,’ Jacob piped up.

We all added our own jeering ‘yeah Hugo, don’t be so stupid.’

‘You’ve got to believe. And it’s not just Father Christmas - snow angels exist too,’ I smiled to myself, ‘if you believe in angels then anything’s possible.’

My worldly teenagers sniggered, but Sam and Jacob, like me, were more open to possibilities – we had been through so much we wanted to believe – and for us something magical
was
in the air.

I turned my head in the snow to look at Sam, her cheeks ruddy in the cold, and my baby sister smiled back. ‘I’ve always believed in angels,’ she said.

T
here was
nothing else for it, the fire was the end of The White Angel Bakery and we had to make different plans now. I was devastated, but tried not to let Tamsin see because it only made her feel worse and she’d been through enough. It had broken my heart the following morning to turn customers away but what could I do? The bakery was blackened inside and there was no oven. Tamsin was constantly trying to come up with ideas and plans like ‘a cupcake truck’ and ‘a pop-up shop’, but it was too late and I asked her to cancel all the orders. I was depressed, felt very lost and still had the beginning of the flu and no energy to do anything.

Meanwhile, Christmas was still heading towards us like a juggernaut and despite the bakery coming to a standstill, everything else was carrying on. Jacob had finally learned his important two lines and on the evening of the Nativity play we made our way carefully through the snow in a taxi. There had been some stage nerves and a bit of stroppiness regarding Jacob’s costume, but I managed to calm Tamsin down in time. She wasn’t happy that I’d made his donkey head with papier mâché and grey paint and demanded I call her seamstress and ask her to create ‘a life-like donkey head’ within the hour. I reminded Tamsin, not for the first time that it wasn’t the RSC and we couldn’t afford it anyway.

So, after much drama at home, the three of us arrived for more drama at St Stephen’s Primary School for the Nativity Play.

‘I can’t believe how grown up Jacob seems,’ Tamsin said as we sat in the audience waiting for everyone to come in.

‘Do you... think about Steven? I mean, of course you do... but on nights like tonight?’

‘Yes,’ I said. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to have to tell her that a day didn’t go by when I didn’t wonder and wish and imagine how it might have been with him by my side. Recently I’d been so busy and so involved in the bakery I’d thought less about Steve, but then the fire had taken all the distractions away again. Why couldn’t I ever hold on to the stuff I loved? Even Richard, the most perfect, kind, lovely man in the world had walked away because I wasn’t prepared to commit to him.

‘I’ll be rather relieved when this play’s over,’ I whispered to Tamsin as the lights went down. ‘He’s been in character so long I’m worried he’ll have an identity crisis and think he’s a donkey.’

‘Oh the cost of therapy for that one,’ she sighed theatrically. We both smiled – my sister could be very funny when she wanted to be. Still smiling, I turned away from her to see Richard sitting down in the empty seat next to me and I took a sharp intake of breath. I could feel the blood run to my face. I felt guilty about the way I’d been – and rude because I hadn’t acknowledged the lovely painting he’d pushed under the door. I meant to, but hadn’t had time to do anything other than clearing up debris and cinders for the past few days. Richard nodded and smiled as he sat down and I smiled awkwardly back.

‘You okay?’ he whispered. ‘I just heard – about the fire.’

‘Yeah. No one was hurt, except the business,’ I shrugged, in an attempt to appear braver than I felt.

I really hadn’t wanted to bump into Richard, let alone sit with him. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to see him, it was just that being near him reminded me of what we had, what might have been if things had been different, if I’d been different. And my heart ached. As I watched Mary and Joseph begin their endless search for a room, I smelled the cold night air on him. I tipped my head slightly in his direction, breathing in his scent, then realised this might look weird if anyone saw me. I shouldn’t be sniffing ex-boyfriends at school plays and if Tamsin realised what I was doing she’d have something to say – loudly.

Then Jacob came on stage and my heart spilt onto the floor. When he neighed, he sounded more like a siren than a donkey, but he was so earnest, his performance brought tears to my eyes. And by the time they’d found the stable, I was very much aware of Richard’s thigh warm against mine. I didn’t move, just let it happen, getting a sick kick out of the imagined intimacy. Then the three kings arrived with their gifts and Richard’s hand reached out to mine and held it gently, caressing it with one thumb and reminding me of what I was missing. Richard’s brand of sex was gentle, caressing, caring – but I tried not to think too much about that and concentrated on the three kings and their ludicrous gifts. But I wanted him so badly I thought I might explode there and then in the middle of St Stephen’s school hall with the choir singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’.

How inappropriate, I thought, as the gold frankincense and myrrh were dished out. This is my son’s school play and all I can think about is sex. I’d slept with a few men, but rarely had it been so tender, so gentle, so good. It was this caring side I’d told myself was controlling – but Richard wasn’t like that, I’d just been looking for excuses not to love him. And sitting so close, just breathing him in like a weirdo and remembering how good it was made me realise I did love him – and I wanted him back.

When the lights went up, I breathed a heavy sigh and turned to Tamsin first, who was wiping a tear. ‘My gorgeous little nephew,’ she said, almost laughing at herself. ‘I’m being so silly at the moment.’

My eyes were damp too as I turned to Richard. We didn’t need to say anything – we’d said enough throughout the performance. ‘Thank you for the painting,’ I smiled, ‘fortunately it wasn’t destroyed in the fire – I had kept it by my bed.’ I wanted to kiss him but that might lead to me wanting to take all his, and my, clothes off. ‘The Bakery’s a mess, though,’ I sighed.

‘Can I do anything to help?’

He looked at me with such softness and warmth I felt my knees go weak and I seriously doubt anyone has ever felt such powerful sexual urges after or during a primary school nativity play. Tamsin would have labelled it ‘indecent’ and I couldn’t meet her eyes.

Much later that night when Tamsin and Jacob were asleep I heard a gentle knock on the bakery door. ‘I came to see how you are after everything,’ Richard said, looking around at the carnage caused by the fire.

‘I’m okay. I’m moving out in January, I’ll probably have to go back to teaching for a while.’

‘Oh that’s a shame, you’ve worked so hard,’ his eyes were greyer and more twinkly than I’d remembered. The open door brought a freezing blast to my naked body underneath my dressing gown, so I invited him in.

He closed the door behind him and walked into the bakery kitchen, I followed, commenting on the smoke-damaged walls.

‘The landlord will have to have it all repainted, but there’s no structural damage,’ I said, leaning on the remaining countertop, facing him, aware my dressing gown had slipped slightly to reveal some cleavage.

‘Good,’ he looked right back at me and stood against the wall. He wasn’t going to make any moves, the message was clear, it was up to me, the ball was in my court.

I slowly walked towards him and, close up, could feel the heat pulsating from him. He was as excited as I was, and within seconds I had reached up and kissed him full on the lips. He kissed me back, as my hand slid down to his groin and I slowly undid the zip on his jeans. I looked up at him, the excitement in his eyes was tangible but he gave little away, he was playing hard to get, and I loved a challenge.

I pushed my hand inside his jeans, feeling the hardness, the building tension, and opening my dressing gown I turned us round so I was against the wall. Then I brought him towards me, and holding onto his neck, I wrapped my legs around him and pushed him inside as his strong arms slid under me, supporting me against the wall. We couldn’t help ourselves, we were both consumed with such passion it was a matter of minutes before it was all over.

The climb down was slightly awkward and we both laughed, embarrassed at what had just happened. ‘I’m sorry, I just had to...’ I smiled.

‘Don’t ever apologise for something like that,’ he laughed.

We went upstairs and lay together in the dark (both covered in case my sister decided to pop in or Mrs J felt like wandering through to give a running commentary) and we just talked. Richard spoke about how his father had walked out on them when he was only ten years old, leaving his mum with four children. I knew about this, but he’d never really talked in detail to me before and that he was willing to share this made me feel even closer to him.

‘I went from being a carefree little boy playing on his bike and stealing the neighbour’s apples to looking after two little sisters. Mum had three jobs just to keep food on the table,’ he said, explaining how he’d grown up ‘looking after girls.’

‘I think that’s why I’ve always been a sucker for a lost lady in distress,’ he smiled. I wondered if I had been one of his lost ladies, it went some way to explaining the caring nature I’d sometimes railed against. I saw his desire to spend Christmas together as him trying to take over my life, in the same way I felt Tamsin did, which is why I fought it so hard. But Richard didn’t want to control me, he just cared about me and Jacob, wanted to look after us and be part of a family again.

The following morning I woke and there he was, lying next to me on the floor and I felt brighter, happier more alive than I had for some time – it just felt so right him being there. I walked over to the window, it was still dark outside and the snow was falling faster and faster, frenzied snowflakes whirled to the ground and disappeared in orangey whiteness. I went back and snuggled next to him, watching him sleep, and when he woke he smiled and kissed me. I kissed him back and as the snow fell silently outside we lost ourselves all over again.

I
was bundling
Richard out of the door at 6.30 when Tamsin appeared at the top of the stairs, almost banging into us. She was in full make-up, hair tied up and wearing a little Prada number in Winter White, ‘I’m breakfasting with friends,’ she said, mysteriously. I was intrigued, but she wasn’t offering any more information. She then greeted Richard like a long lost friend, she’d only seen him the previous evening at the play – and didn’t know about the evening’s development but she was keen to make him welcome. I didn’t want her butting in and ruining things at this delicate stage so bundled him out before she could ask if he liked it enough to put a ring on it.

I stood at the bakery door, watching him walk off into the snow and I had the cheek to feel a little hurt because he hadn’t asked to see me again. But he wasn’t going to put himself on the line again, and I didn’t blame him - I still had some chasing to do. And this time I wasn’t going to let him go.

‘You need to decide what you really want, madam,’ was all Tamsin said, from behind me.

I knew exactly what I wanted – at last. I’d stupidly rejected the only man I could finally trust with my bruised and battered heart and it was now up to me to win him back.

I suddenly ran for the door, whipping it open and sprinting into the early morning blanket of snow. ‘Richard,’ I heard myself calling after him. ‘Perhaps we could get together again?’

‘Yes I’d like that,’ he called back, turning around and stamping his feet on the ground to keep them warm.

I had run outside without a coat and was shivering with cold. ‘Okay, great. When?’ I wasn’t playing games any more, I was going to hand him my heart as he had his.

‘I... I’m sorry, I’m working late this week, then it’s Carole’s Christmas party at work... she’s asked me to be her plus one.’

I was shocked. ‘Carole?’ His ex? Ella’s mom? Who he was still technically married to!

‘Yeah... her boyfriend dumped her... she needs an escort and muggins here offered,’ he laughed nervously.

Ah, it was all beginning to make horrible sense now. He wasn’t playing hard to get – he was going back to his wife. I felt such a fool.

‘Oh great. It’s good that you two are... it’s good for Ella.’

He walked back towards me, his voice lowering as he came nearer. ‘Yeah it’s been difficult for all of us and…’

‘Yes... yes, of course,’ I bumbled. Like a moron. I didn’t want to hear all about their love-in and turned to go back inside feeling like an idiot.

‘Yeah... but you and I should get together soon,’ he was walking away, raising his finger on the ‘soon’, like he was talking to a mate about a casual drink in the pub.

‘Yep,’ was all I could manage before running into the shop to sob on Tamsin’s shoulder just like I did when I was a little girl.

‘Talk about bad timing,’ I sobbed. ‘Stupid Sam spends almost a year with someone, dumps him and then finally falls hard the day after he decides to give his marriage another go.’

‘Oh love, it’s one thing after the other at the moment, isn’t it?’ she sighed.

‘I wouldn’t mind, but I slept with him last night... he might have mentioned his plans before we ripped each other’s clothes off. I didn’t think he was like that – I thought Richard was special, I thought he cared about me.

Tamsin wiped my tears and brushed my hair back from my face. ‘If it’s meant to be – it will happen,’ she said wisely. ‘I blame this snow – it’s turning everyone’s heads... it’s like we’ve all gone mad.’