Nina
Saturday, 15 December
‘I can’t deal with this, Kitty. Seriously, last night has proven I’m not ready to start dating.’
‘So, you went?’ Kitty shakes her head, whilst dressing in her additional layers.
I nod. Bram arrived in a taxi bang on eight o’clock.
I follow suit regards dressing, as the silence lingers between us. I need her advice. I want her opinion but I know she’s not pleased with me.
‘Kitty.’
She halts pulling her coat on and stares.
‘What do you want me to say?’
I shrug.
‘I couldn’t say no to Bram, not after they’ve been so good to me.’
‘And Zach?’
‘I couldn’t say no to him either but he never asks, you know that.’
Kitty sighs, finishes pulling on and doing up her coat zipper. Her eyes don’t leave mine. I know she’s concerned: for me, Bram and Zach.
‘If you were my little sister, I’d say Zach’s your man—’
I begin to protest; it’s not that simple.
‘Hey, hear me out, Nina.’
‘OK.’ I lean against the coat pegs.
‘We all know how deep this friendship runs, OK, I get that, but you can’t spend the rest of your life dodging the one decision you need to make. Ninety per cent of life’s happiness or sadness probably comes from just one decision.’
‘I hear you – Zach’s kind, caring, reliable… but surely I shouldn’t just settle for what’s purely in front of me?’
‘Settle? He’s a good man, Nina. You probably still view him, them, as teenage boys but they’re not. Seriously, they’re both ready to settle down, buy homes of their own and commit.’
‘That’s not how you got with Connor.’
‘I knew you were going to bring us into it.’
‘Well, it’s true, you say it every time… your knees went weak… your…’
‘Stop!’ Her hand lifts to silence me.
‘So really the question is, do I settle or wait for what you and Connor have?’
Kitty sighs.
‘I know, it’s frustrating, Kitty – but I want what you guys have, honest I do. And if either of the twins had that effect upon me – I would grab the opportunity in a heartbeat…’
‘But it’s not there, is it?’ Her hand reaches out to gently stroke my cheek.
I slowly shake my head. I want to tell her about yesterday. I want to share what happened in the sales yard when that guy stared at me, but the words stick in my throat. Her woeful blue eyes show me how much she wants it to be me and Zach.
‘Tell you what, how about we head into town one night for a cocktail or two?’ she asks, a smile brightening her eyes. ‘We can ask Shazza along, if you fancy.’
For the first time in ages, I actually feel alive.
‘Yes, that would be great!’
‘Come on, best foot forward before Boss Fielding catches us skiving.’ She laughs, straightening her coat and heading for the door.
‘Kitty!’
‘Yeah?’ She turns, her hand on the door latch.
‘Thank you… for being there,’ I say, as my eyes glisten.
‘My pleasure… but you can thank me with an Espresso Martini!’
Suddenly, I feel eager for a night of cocktails – it’s just what I need.
‘Fair deal.’ I zipper up my embroidered coat and hastily follow Kitty’s steps.
*
Angie
We drive in silence through the snow-covered lanes towards the farm where he can escape into his new job lugging spruces around a busy yard.
‘Alfie, I’m sorry.’
‘I know. It wasn’t exactly what I’d planned either.’
‘Maybe we can have another weekend together, some time over the Christmas holidays when you’ve broken up from school… have some fun, like the old days?’
He gives the smallest of nods; he’s not convinced.
‘I know I messed up. I just don’t need my teenage son to keep drilling that home for me, Alfie. I need time to show you that I never stopped loving you… despite my actions.’
He looks at my profile as I drive.
‘And I need time to rebuild my trust in you…’
I nod, my gaze fixed upon the snow-covered road ahead.
‘I get it, I let you down. But know this, Alfie – I also let myself down along the way by not having the time I needed to mature before I became a wife and mother.’
We continue in silence. How do you flip to discussing the weather when it’s chillier inside the car than it is outside?
I indicate and pull into the farm’s rutted track. A thick layer of snow covers every inch of the driveway.
‘You’d have thought they’d have gritted this section.’
Alfie doesn’t answer but sporadically waves to some passers-by heading towards the farm. I assume they are also part-time teenage workers who he knows from school trudging towards a busy shift.
I park up in the car park. He opens the door, allowing Noddy Holder’s screaming tones to invade my space. Alfie grabs his holdall from the rear seat, before addressing me.
‘See you, Mum… take care.’
There’s no kiss or hug forthcoming.
‘See you in a few days, Alfie.’ I hold it together as he slams the passenger door and bounces off towards a log cabin.
I swiftly turn the car around, taking the driveway slower than usual as my sight blurs and my emotions overflow.
*
Nina
‘Nina, wait!’ Zach’s voice wails as I stride towards the netting machine, to which I’ve been assigned for the day.
I continue to trudge in the snow, knowing his long legs will catch me in no time.
‘Oi, Nina!’
‘Hi, Zach… you OK?’
‘Are you?’ he mutters, his grey eyes downcast and staring. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
‘Sorry… I was in a world of my own.’ I begin organising the netting feed and the plastic secure ties.
Zach stands and watches. I’m pretending to be engrossed in my task.
‘Are you not talking to me?’
‘Dooh!’
‘Nina, stop!’ He grabs at my arm, pulling me around to face him. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Just trying to earn a living by doing the job your father pays me for.’ I attempt a breezy tone but I can hear it has edge. He’s not stupid.
‘Seriously? Since when has my old man’s bottom line been your main interest?’
‘Always.’ I snatch my sleeve free of his gloved hand. ‘I like to do a good job.’
‘Nina?’
I dump the cable ties and pliers onto the ground. If I have a choice, which I don’t usually get, I’ll be at this end removing the netted spruce from the machine – the loading end is the worst part due to the constant lifting from the pallet. Cable tying and throwing down is far easier on your back.
‘What?’ I snap, unsure why I’m taking this out on Zach. Though, forgive me, but he is the nearest I’ve come to Bram all morning.
Zach eyes me suspiciously.
‘You don’t want to talk, do you?’
I give the smallest of head shakes.
He nods but continues to stare.
‘Zach, I’m just out of salts… it’s tough at the minute and I feel…’ I pause, watching the raucous cutting team drive nearer. The wagon begins to reverse and, despite the overhead speakers spewing ‘Santa Baby’, the air is filled with an intermittent bleeping as the wagon reverses alongside the netting station.
‘Sorry,’ I mouth, as Zach’s eyes bore into mine.
The cab doors open on the reversed wagon and the crew jump down.
‘Nina… where have you been hiding?’ shouts Bram, straightening his puffa jacket having jumped from the wagon.
*
Holly
‘Would you like a bag?’ I ask, emptying her wire basket.
The customer smiles but doesn’t answer.
‘There’ll be five pence charge if—’
‘No.’
I press the till for the total to charge.
‘Nine pounds, thirty-three pence, please.’
The ten-pound note is delivered with a quick flicking action of her wrist. Serving the general public isn’t a joy first thing on a Saturday morning, but it helps to give me a little extra pocket money.
My customer swipes her goods into her own shopping bag before departing. I bid her goodbye. She ignores my farewell. I smile, awaiting my next customer, and that’s when I see them. The group of mean girls standing at the end of the hair and beauty aisle staring at me. Gawping, in fact. All dressed in tight jeans clutching their large designer handbags, primped hair and black eyeliner skilfully flicked, stare as if viewing an alien. Yep, me, the alien in their classroom. The one that works for her own cash, has little chance of parental pocket money and is constantly harassed by the likes of them.
They turn on their heels and flee along the aisle. I’m glad.
I can predict their post-sixteen options: A-levels, university, potentially high-flying careers, before marriage and family. My journey will probably skip to the final two options unless I’m lucky.
Becca, the cashier supervisor, sidles towards the till as her mahogany-rich bob swings with each step.
‘Can you see the CCTV monitor from where you’re standing, Holly?’
I nod.
‘Can you check aisle five, a bunch of teenage girls – they’re acting a little strange beside the gift boxes. I don’t want any funny business, not today.’
My heart stops.
I look at the grainy image on the tiny screen below the countertop. The group of girls huddle together into a tight rugby scrum; an arm stretches from their mass of bodies towards the shelving unit, grabs an item and quickly withdraws amongst the crowd.
They have a bloody nerve. Do they think they’ll get away with it?
‘Well?’ asks Becca, ready to do her bit as store detective.
I nod.
Becca is gone in a flash. She flies around the corner of the aisle and I hear her shout for assistance. I’m staying back on this call. There is no way I can get dragged into their situation purely through knowing them. Plus, I’ll never live it down in school.
I watch the store manager and his deputy run to attend the apprehension of the mean-girl group. Six sulky teenagers are frogmarched towards the manager’s rear office. I stand at my till and watch the doleful faces pass by one by one. Each one stares at me in turn, as if I’m solely to blame for their predicament.
I watch as Becca plus the two managers escort the group into the rear offices. I know the routine: they’ll call the police, await assistance and then call parents.
How embarrassing. My parents would kill me for pulling such a stunt. They each receive way more pocket money than I’ll ever get and still they steal!
‘Holly, could you come through, please?’ calls Becca, standing in the doorway. It turns out the store manager has other things to do, but the group need to be watched until the police arrive.
‘Becca, I know them,’ I mutter, not wanting to be involved. ‘They’re in my class at school.’
Becca shakes her head. It makes no difference.
I have to stand in the manager’s office while six of my classmates are accused of stealing two boxes of hair dye, three Dove box sets and a selection of nail varnishes.
The police are stern, taking all six back to the police station to process and inform their parents. I am deeply ashamed purely by association of gender and age. As they file out, one by one, they drop their heads except Paris, who eyeballs me in a threatening manner.
Wait till I tell Alfie; he won’t believe it.
*
Nina
‘Nina!’ A cry from the equipment barn fills the air. I drop the Norway spruce that I am stacking, turn and run through the snow to the barn.
Zach is inside the donkey pen, his back pressed against the railings with beads of sweat decorating his forehead. I instantly understand the situation and grab a carrot from the food stash by the entrance and rush towards the far side of the pen. Gertrude isn’t the issue, it’s Arthur. The billy goat’s stance is dominant; his chest thrust forward, head lowered and his mighty horns primed for attack.
‘Arrrrthur,’ I sing, in a loud and distracting voice, whilst waving the carrot through the railings at his eye level.
‘Hurry up, he’s angry!’ splutters Zach, the whites of his eyes growing wide.
‘Arthur… what’s this, old boy?’ I frantically wave the carrot. ‘Zach, you might need to run for it.’
‘No shit, Sherlock, I hadn’t thought of that. Wave the carrot a bit higher to distract him. He needs to cease this behaviour or he’ll be getting his nads chopped off.’
Arthur’s front hoof cuffs the straw.
‘Zach, get out of there!’
The same hoof repeats the action.
Arthur aggressively launches forward, his weapons drawn, charging at full pelt, as Zach bounces over the metal railings just in time to miss Arthur impaling his left thigh. Zach lands on my side of the pen, straightens his jacket and sweeps his hair back.
‘That was close.’
‘Too close,’ I add, throwing Arthur the carrot.
‘Don’t reward him for behaving in that way. No wonder he keeps doing it if you give him the sodding carrot.’
I ignore the remark. Arthur doubles back from his charge and parades his glorious horns before locating the thrown carrot.
‘He needs an afternoon with the vet for a castration job – he’s becoming a sodding menace.’
‘He needs a mate, more like.’
‘Don’t we all?’
I ignore him for the second time in as many minutes.
‘Why won’t your dad just call the vet in?’ I ask. ‘He’s getting worse.’
‘Male pride, I think.’ Zach laughs, straightening the legs of his work trousers before standing tall. ‘You’ve been avoiding me.’
‘I’m just not ready for social situations, Zach. It feels like I’m entering another phase.’
‘Another stage of the grieving process?’
I’ve done the anger, feeling isolated, being in denial, being the victim and the aggressor, and now I’m consumed by the melancholy phase with a touch of restlessness thrown in.
‘When will the happy phase start?’
Zach raises his eyebrows in a comical fashion.
‘I’m serious, Zach.’
‘I’m serious too,’ he says, adding, ‘You’re in control of your own happiness, no one else.’
‘Thanks for that gem of wisdom.’
His grey eyes portray such compassion in one gaze.
Why can’t life be simple? If I could have a Christmas wish it would be for a peaceful existence, the way life used to be: me, Dad and the cottage. Dad’s mood swings overshadowed our memories, his physical deterioration didn’t help matters but life had a regular pattern. I feigned my role as an unofficial carer pretending not to have a care and Dad understood his – together we simply plodded along.
‘Fancy a pint tomorrow night in The Rose?’ I ask.
His eyebrows lift in a questioning manner.
‘I thought you couldn’t handle social situations.’
‘A quiet drink with you is different.’
‘And last night’s date with Bram was…?’
‘Difficult, awkward… hasn’t he said?’
‘He doesn’t tell me everything, you know.’
‘Ah, but I do, is that it?’
‘OK. The Rose… at eight.’
‘Deal?’
‘Deal,’ he repeats, before heading from the barn into the snowfall.
*
Angie
It felt like a good idea but in sixty minutes, I’ve learnt that Fabio is still using his dating profile. He’s also lost a tonne of weight unless that’s an old photo and he has ventured on a recent holiday with a woman who happens to resemble his wife.
So, he’s still playing Casanova amongst the single women in the area.
Great.
I close the laptop. I wish I hadn’t looked now. My initial task was to find an interesting date on which I could invite Nick. Somehow, I was distracted.
It shouldn’t be this easy to find and follow people online. It shouldn’t be allowed for married people to actively seek affairs via dating websites.
My wounds reopen. The edges slowly tear apart and gape, wide and unattractively raw. I never imagined this could happen but it has.
I need a task that will successfully distract me from the likes of Fabio. Fabio and his ladies. Fabio and his wife. Fabio and his glorious carnal knowledge.
I count the shopping days remaining until Christmas – not enough – but still I don’t feel like competing with the crowds purely to please my gobby young pup. Is it too late to use online for everything and get it delivered in time?
I can decorate my Blue spruce. Yep, that’s what I’ll do – decorate my tree, which has stood naked for a week.
The tree that is supposed to be a treat for me to enjoy and I’ve neglected it.
I quickly collect my box of new decorations, which I’d hoped Alfie and I would have emptied last night in a mother and son bonanza night of family bonding. But sadly, we didn’t.
I open and unpack every box of silver baubles, tinsel garlands and white fairy lights, laying the decorations on the lounge floor before slowly and purposefully hanging each item upon the blue boughs. I stand back to admire the silver against blue combination – it looks impressive, but I can’t muster my original spirit for doing this alone. In my head, I envisaged happy times, decorating the tree with my Alfie… This feels wrong and pathetic. How has my glorious spruce become a symbolic gesture of pathetic loneliness and spinsterhood? How?
An image of Fabio’s tight torso fills my mind. His sturdy, powerful thighs and that cute manner of curling his lip.
Why do I do this to myself? I’ve consciously decided to focus on Nick. Rebuild my relationship with Nick. Me and Nick. Nick and me. And Alfie. So why do I bother looking for past lovers? Nothing good ever comes of searching for an ex online. Nothing.
My train of thought follows a downward spiral: dates that equalled nights out. Nights out that led to nights in, which led to the memories of passionate nights tumbling between sheets.
Stop it! Angie, just stop! I’m annoying myself.
I need to be stronger. I need to focus on my future with Nick, not look backwards… A happy family Christmas filled with tradition and fun – that’s what I need.
I run through the list of top-ten dates I found on the web: sport event, yoga retreat, camping, adventure theme park, horse racing, NEC exhibition event, music concert… I will choose one and plan the perfect night out for us. Me and Nick. The zoo visit, though pleasant, wasn’t the day he’d have hoped for but his dinner date on the steam train was amazing.
Amazing nights with Nick, that’s what I need to focus upon… no more thoughts of Fabio.