Nina
Saturday, 22 December
The queue of traffic snakes along the farm’s track and onto the neighbouring roads as the snow continues to fall. Boss Fielding is in the best mood we’ve ever seen and the excitement at Christmas Tree Farm exceeds anything witnessed in previous years. In a corner of the sales yard, the local TV news reporter Kim Botterill, dressed in a pink mac, hastily delivers to camera her roving reporter piece as regards the new project, which will air across the region tonight. Who’d have thought local news would be interested in our latest project?
‘Can you believe it?’ asks Zach as we watch from the cashier’s cabin steps. ‘All this is because of your idea.’
‘I know, daft, isn’t it? The boss joked I’d gain a pay rise if Presents for Heaven hits the national news.’
‘No, Nina, it’s far from daft. It shows that families are making an additional trip on behalf of a loved one. You should be proud.’
‘I wonder how many drivers are complaining because they’re having to wait to reach the car park?’ I joke.
‘Phuh! They need to get a bit of Christmas spirit in that case.’
We watch as most cars pull past the car park area, sweeping into the temporary drop-off point hastily created yesterday, and a farm colleague takes delivery of their offered gifts. The large banner announcing ‘Presents for Heaven’ flaps in the wind making a snapping noise. Boss Fielding says he’ll get a plastic banner printed professionally for next year but we’ve done our best for this year. Families, young and old, are delivering brightly wrapped presents topped with bows and curled ribbons. I expected to see many tears but very few seem upset; like me, they seem relieved at having fulfilled a need to include and remember their deceased relative in such a simple manner at Christmas time.
I watch the relay of farm workers ferry the gifts to an old wooden cart that hasn’t seen the light of day from the equipment barn for years. With a garland of holly decorating the side and thick plastic sheeting lying on the bottom, it makes for an aesthetically pleasing collection point. Two teenage helpers stand upon it piling the presents sky-high; my offering was their first delivery.
Zach’s arm snakes about my shoulder.
‘Are you OK?’
I nod, enjoying the comfort of his embrace.
‘Jackie tells me you’re moving into a cabin later tonight.’
‘Yep, your dad agreed I could have it free of charge over the Christmas period as only two cabins are booked for rental. It’s what I want to do.’
‘If you need company, you only have to come up to the house… You can join in with our festive goings-on.’
‘I know. But I’ll be fine.’ I am determined to be fine. I’ve packed a huge suitcase with a host of food and a selection of reading books to occupy my quiet time. I can’t cancel Christmas but I can choose to spend it how I wish.
‘I saw your suitcase in the snug. Did you trundle it along in the snow this morning?’
‘Yep. I felt such a fool walking through the village at such an unearthly hour.’ The only witness was my robin, who flew from bough to bough a few metres ahead of me, watching me in his inquisitive manner. Despite the plastic wheels, the suitcase is heavier than it looks given that I’ve carefully wrapped and packaged the precious contents from beneath the stairs. I feel disrespectful, but I wasn’t ready until now – now I am ready to do what needs to be done.
*
Holly
‘And then?’ I ask, as Alfie settles beside me on my first ever tea break in the snug.
‘He said, and I quote, “Me and your mum are dating”!’
‘No!’
‘Yes! Dating!’
I’m out of my depth. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to put my foot in it but probably will.
‘And how do you feel about that?’
Alfie stares at me. Oh, there it is, a foot-in-mouth moment quite clear to spot.
‘Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said about my parents?’ asks Alfie, his brow furrowed, his blue eyes flashing in annoyance.
‘Err yeah… just checking… You might have changed your mind following the father and son chat.’
‘Holly, I haven’t changed my mind. I think he’s a fool to take her back.’
I nod. Seriously, I get it: no mind-changing.
‘So, how’s that leave things with you?’
‘After we drove you back home, we sat up until gone one this morning… just going over and over the same stuff. He’s totally hooked, line and sinker.’
‘Anyway, now I wish I hadn’t asked. Can we change the subject?’ I ask.
Alfie gulps down his coffee, and stares into his mug.
‘Had a good morning so far?’ Alfie asks.
‘It’s been fine. I helped net a load of Blue spruce, labelled the last cut of Nordman firs and helped Zach try to locate the missing goat. Though I’m glad we didn’t find him, given the weapons he’s armed with. You?’
‘Perfect, apart from getting a bit teary helping out with the Presents for Heaven collection point. I tried to hide it when an elderly man arrived and delivered a gift for “Elsie” only to find it contained an etching of a dozen red roses that he’d sat at home and drawn. How beautiful is that?’
I agree.
‘I expected to be teary when I brought in my mum’s present for my grandad, but I felt honoured to deliver it,’ I add, recalling the gold ribbon and wrapping paper labelled: mantelpiece clock.
‘You’re filling up just hearing about the roses,’ he says, nudging my knee.
‘I know… but how lovely to care so deeply about someone that you’d spend time making something they’d love after they’ve gone.’
‘Mmmm, fancy caring so little about someone that you walk out, divorce them and then ask to return when you can’t find anything better in life. Go figure.’
‘Alfie… don’t.’ I scowl. ‘You’re sounding bitter.’
‘So would you if you’d experienced the year my dad and me have gone through. Seriously, the worst year of my life, so far… until you came along.’
‘Go on, you’re just saying that!’
He slowly shakes his head; his eyes grow wide.
‘Hols, I’m really not.’
A silence lingers between us, we both look into the other’s face and nothing needs to be said. Last night’s moment of tenderness was far greater than if we’d actually gone all the way. I’ve heard my mum describe this as puppy love, at the most, a teenage crush… but there’s more, much more to us than words can explain.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks, readying himself to return to work. ‘You looked…’
‘I’m great… just looking forward to spending Christmas time together without the interruption of school or homework.’
‘Me too, though if my mum keeps popping around I’ll probably be spending more time at yours.’
I smile. He’ll be welcome any time, especially by my dad.
*
I spend the rest of the day helping the florist lady on her wreath stall, pitched over by the car park. She is literally selling mistletoe and making holly wreaths to order as customers wait. I take the cash, given that she’s an independent trader not linked to the farm so customers won’t pay at the cashier’s cabin. I write down the details as regards size and colour of ribbon required and, bingo, her hands are super whizzy at producing a new wreath every few minutes. If the customers want a standard wreath or a small cross, then I show them the selection of pre-made ones available, which look fabulous to me for decorating a front door or a gravestone.
Either way, I’m kept busy and this beats working at the local chemist any day.
My mind keeps flickering back to last night with Alfie. Were we right not to continue after I suddenly felt all weird about doing it? I felt awful doing that to him, but everyone has always said you have to be honest, and if I can’t be honest with Alfie, who can I be honest with?
‘Are you OK, Holly?’ asks Nina, approaching across the sales yard.
‘Oh, yeah, fine, thanks. You?’ She showed me the ropes first thing this morning, but I haven’t seen much of her since. Alfie says she’s a bit down at the minute about her dad passing away last Christmas. She’s said nothing to me, but you can’t help but sense that she’s dealing with something big; she’s always busy, always alone.
‘So-so. I’ll be glad when today’s over and done with and we can all get back to normal.’
‘Not till after the holidays, though,’ I say.
‘Ah, I’m not doing those this year. Giving it a miss and staying put in a log cabin over by the lake. That’ll be my treat for the holidays.’
I instantly feel sorry for her. Fancy not being with family at Christmas.
‘Not on your own, surely?’
‘Oh, yeah, it’s what I want. I asked Boss Fielding and he agreed that I can stay as long as I promise to go to the house should I feel lonely.’
I nod. Even so, spending Christmas Day alone seems like the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. For the second time today, I want to cry. First Alfie’s story about the old gent and now Nina.
‘And you?’ she asks.
‘With my parents and sisters, but we’ve got my cousin’s wedding on Monday. Well, we’re distant cousins really, but Isabella hasn’t any sisters or daughters so she asked my sisters and me to be bridesmaids. We collected the bridesmaids’ dresses yesterday so it feels real now.’
Nina nods. She now looks really interested and happier. I’ll keep talking about the wedding; she must like weddings. It’s the least I can do when someone is feeling down, or so my mum would say.
‘Anyway, we had the day off school and—’
‘And Luca? You know him well?’
‘Not really. She’s been with him for years – they’ve got two boys together – but we only ever see them at weddings or christenings, and then he only talks to my dad.’
Nina nods.
‘So, the boys are his, then?’
‘Oh, yeah, they’ve been together for years and years, he just didn’t want to get married until now…’
Nina nods along. Her face doesn’t seem as bright as a moment ago, but, hey, she’s talking about people she doesn’t know. You can’t always feign interest, can you?
I spy a customer waving at me from the pre-made holly wreaths.
‘I need to go and serve,’ I say apologetically, pointing to the potential customer.
‘Of course, yes… well, I hope you enjoy your day as a bridesmaid.’
I dash over to the lady as Nina returns to her usual spot on the sales yard.
*
Nina
It feels strange using a new key, having only known the feel of the cottage key. The cabin’s gold key slides and turns within a sleek well-oiled lock, unlike the cottage one.
‘I’ve allocated you the smallest cabin. I figured you wouldn’t be needing anything larger,’ was the boss’s explanation for allocating me cabin number three.
My intention is to hibernate for several days over Christmas, enjoy the lake, read a little and straighten my head ready for a new start come Boxing Day.
Inside I find everything I need. A one-roomed cabin, complete with a stable door split-section opening, a cosy double bed, small seating area around the wood burner, a kitchenette area before the cabin window and a small en-suite bathroom. And, a secure door lock so I can firmly get closure as regards Christmas festivities. And the wedding.
I trundle my suitcase up the three wooden steps and into my new home. A quick ten-minute dash-about empties my belongings from the suitcase. I carefully place the wooden box from under the stairs upon the coffee table. It doesn’t seem right to place it on the floor, but nowhere seems appropriate.
After a difficult and long day on the sales yard this feels as if I’m a million miles away from Christmas Tree Farm and yet I am slap bang in the middle of it amongst the east side growing fields and the lake.
I hastily grab my coat. Before I prepare some food, I want to visit the lake and enjoy the tranquillity of nightfall upon the water.
*
Angie
‘I don’t see the problem, Alfie.’
‘Well, I do!’ He pouts, turning from me as I hold his suit jacket out for him to try on.
‘Slip it on, check the fit and then take it off again. What’s the issue?’
‘You. That’s the issue!’
‘Me?’ I point at my chest, to ensure that I’ve got his drift.
‘You run out on us after New Year then think we can all play happy families when it comes to attending someone else’s wedding… Slightly hypocritical, don’t you think?’
I look around for Nick; a mere atom of support would be good here. He’s nowhere to be found.
‘Your father and I—’
‘Oh, don’t come that crap again about you trying to work through your pain and come out a stronger and happier couple at the end. You divorced the poor bastard—’
‘Alfie!’
‘You did, you put him and me through the mill to please yourself and run off with your fancy man, or should I say fancy men? I remember the old mum… the one before she skipped out on us.’
I stand open-mouthed. I can’t believe I’m still holding his suit jacket out to him as if that is a feasible distraction, given his speech.
‘I was just thinking that if we…’ says Nick, walking into the lounge as we glare at each other, a million silent insults flying between us. ‘What’s wrong?’
We both speak at once to justify our own state of frustration.
‘She just said—’
‘He just said—’
Nick holds his hands up.
‘Woo… I can’t deal with both of you at once.’
‘Mum’s playing happy families and I’m not feeling it.’
‘He’s not prepared to fake it either,’ I add.
‘Absolutely, I agree,’ says Nick. Alfie smirks. ‘Don’t give me that, son. My relationship with your mother is different from your relationship with her. We talked about this last night. Now, if we do get this back on track you are going to have to work it out. You might decide that—’
‘Excuse me, are you actually saying not only do I rebuild my marriage, but I have to rebuild being a mother? Because I think you’ll find that that bond has never been broken!’
‘Yes, it was. You left. My mother left me for another man.’
‘I did not leave for another man,’ I snap. How have the bloody tables once again turned on me for being the sodding bad guy? Five minutes ago, all I wanted was for Alfie to try the suit jacket on to make sure there are no dramas come the wedding, but oh, no, we have to start World War III instead.
‘Angie… I told you the situation is delicate… Five minutes alone and this happens.’
‘Nick, I was trying to ensure that the wedding goes well.’
‘Maybe that’s the problem – maybe we are being hasty in deciding to attend as a family. We’re not there yet… and…’ he says.
I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Today of all days… What the hell am I supposed to say? Is he expecting me to say I won’t go because it’s his friend’s daughter? Or should we all not go? And, most importantly, what about Christmas Day if this is going to cause an issue?
I thrust the jacket into Alfie’s hand and grab my handbag from the edge of the sofa. Once I’ve collected my keys from the bottom stair, I pat Rolo on the head and dash from their house. Our house. My old house. The pair of them can suit their bloody selves. I’ve tried. I’ll be fine over Christmas with my luxury hamper delivery. I’ve bent over backwards to fix us and I am not putting up with this, any more.