Staying Away at Christmas (5 page)

‘I’d have put you at thirty-seven.’

This gave Miranda a jolt. Was he flattering her? If so, why? It surely couldn’t be because he genuinely thought she looked eight years younger than her true age. ‘I’m forty-five,’ she said. ‘There, you tricked me into telling you.’

‘I’m fifty,’ said Anthony.

‘And your sister’s friend? Thirty-six?’

He nodded. ‘Probably. But not my type at all.’

‘Do you have a type?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. It’s hard to say. You’re either attracted to someone or you’re not.’

Miranda laughed again. ‘I think I feel sorry for your sister. Trying to find you a nice woman, mother for your children, and you refuse to co-operate.’ She allowed him a second to take this in and then said, ‘If we follow this path down here, we can walk along the shore and end up at the pub. It might not be open, of course.’

He took her arm and laughed. ‘But it might.’

It was and it was heaving with people. Decorated with paper chains and paper balls, with a huge Christmas tree in one corner, there were fairy lights along every beam. The noise of people talking and laughing almost drowned out Noddy Holder and his pals.
There
was a tempting smell of wine and spices. Miranda was very glad they’d come.

Anthony fought his way to the bar and came back with two drinks to where she was standing, rammed between two families who had a year’s catching up to do. ‘I forgot to ask you what you wanted. I got you a mulled wine. It smelt so delicious.’

‘Thank you. It’s perfect.’ She took the glass.

‘Cheers and Happy Christmas!’ he said. They clinked glasses.

Two drinks later they thought they ought to be getting back. The tide was further out and the wading birds made the most of the newly revealed food source. They wandered slowly along, having decided lunch wouldn’t be ready for some time and not wanting to put stress on the cooks by too early a reappearance.

Miranda slipped on some mud and Anthony caught her. When she was steady on her feet again they set off, with his arm still firmly round her.

Maybe I shouldn’t have had that second drink, Miranda thought, as they wandered along, but we seem to have come out of the pub more of a couple than we went in.

‘Do you know, by coming to Devon I’ve missed three Christmas parties,’ she said happily. ‘Three
opportunities
to feel patronised by married couples.’ She paused. ‘I’ve got one I can’t avoid though.’

‘Oh? New Year’s Eve?’

‘I don’t mind the friends we go to for New Year at all. I mean, she’s my best friend and it’s always lovely. No, it’s the work do I’m dreading.’

‘After Christmas? Unusual!’

‘I know! But there wasn’t a date suitable before and it’s a dinner dance. Can you imagine anything worse? But it’s terribly frowned on if you don’t go.’

‘And you have to bring a plus one?’

‘That’s it. It’s always terribly awkward, everyone being in couples.’

‘I’ll go with you, if you like.’

Miranda stopped abruptly. ‘Don’t be silly, you don’t want to do that. Besides, I live in Bath. You probably live in North Yorkshire or somewhere equally miles away.’

He shook his head. ‘Bristol. It’s why we chose Devon – it’s not too far.’

‘That’s why we chose it too!’

‘So I’ll come to your works do with you.’

‘No, Anthony! You’d hate it!’

‘We can hate it together.’

‘It’s too much.’

‘Miranda, you seem to have forgotten that you found my daughter. A slightly boring evening – which might well have its compensations – is the least I can suffer if it would make it easier for you.’

Miranda thought of the stir she would create, turning up with a very presentable man. None of the women would pity her for being single and the men wouldn’t hit on her because they thought she was desperate. ‘That would be really kind. It would be lovely of you.’

‘Then you and I shall both go to the ball!’

By the time they got back to the house they were both rosy cheeked and out of breath. ‘That last bit was a bit of a killer but at least we can eat everything and not feel guilty.’

Anthony looked down at her and nodded. ‘There was just one thing wrong with that otherwise excellent pub.’

‘Oh, what? I thought it was lovely.’

‘No mistletoe.’

‘Oh there was! A great big bunch of it. Didn’t you see?’

‘There was none where we were standing. Never mind, if there’s one thing I’ve learned this Christmas,
is
how to improvise.’ Then he picked a spring of rosemary from the bush growing by the back door, held it over her head, and kissed her on the mouth. It was firm and for a moment she interpreted it as a declaration of intent. Her stomach did the turning over thing it had before and for a moment she wished it didn’t have to end so quickly. Then she swiftly got herself under control and told herself it was just a Christmas kiss.

‘That’s good improvisation,’ said Miranda, when she’d got over the shock.

‘I’m not always a stuck-up old so-and-so who makes mistakes and blames other people,’ he said. ‘I need you to know that.’

‘Oh, I’d stopped thinking you were that ages ago,’ said Miranda, slightly pink. ‘So it was a wasted kiss.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he said. Then he took her into his arms and kissed her again.

She’d hardly got her breath back before he’d opened the door and ushered her into the house.

‘Hi Mum,’ said Lulu excitedly. ‘We need you to make the gravy! We said you did the best gravy ever.’

Miranda, who didn’t want to offend Dan for all sorts of reasons, hesitated. She was still a little
flustered
from Anthony’s kisses. ‘I’m sure Dan’s got it covered.’

Dan actually looked a bit harassed. He was scraping at the bottom of the turkey roasting pan, presumably trying to get some colour into a sauce the unappealing pink of uncooked sausages. ‘I give up!’ he said, throwing the wooden spoon into the pan.

‘Why don’t you check the table’s set?’ said Miranda to the others, not wanting Dan’s difficulties to be too public. ‘Now,’ she said to him when they were alone, ‘would you like me to sort it?’

‘Yeah. I’ve never managed proper gravy. If it was beef, I’d just do a jus, but turkey juices aren’t the same.’

‘I’ll just fetch something from my room,’ said Miranda, and she hurried off, glad her room was on the ground floor. She came back moments later.

‘What’s that?’ asked Dan, sounding horrified.

‘Mother’s Little Helpers. Watch and learn.’

‘So what are they?’

‘Gravy granules and soy sauce,’ said Miranda, not sure if she was proud or ashamed.

Five minutes later there was a saucepan full of gravy that Dan pronounced, ‘OK.’

Miranda nodded, pleased with his praise. ‘Have you got the stuffing sorted?’

He nodded. ‘Loads of fresh herbs in the garden. It was easy.’

‘Are we good to go?’

He nodded. ‘Yup!’

‘I think that was the best Christmas meal I have ever eaten,’ Miranda said, half an hour later. ‘Certainly the best turkey. It was so moist!’

Dan accepted this praise with a nod.

‘It was really good, Dan,’ said Anthony.

‘I think this whole Christmas has been great,’ said Isa.

‘Yes,’ agreed Lulu, ‘and we haven’t even opened our presents yet.’

‘I’d like us to have Christmas like this every year,’ said Amy with a sigh.

‘What? You’d like us to come to Devon for Christmas every year?’ asked her father, frowning slightly.

‘No! I don’t care where we are,’ Amy explained. ‘I just want to have it with Lulu and Isa and –’ she looked up shyly. ‘Miranda.’

Anthony cast an anxious glance at his family. ‘Sweetheart, we could do stockings, if you like. I’m sure I’d manage.’

‘Oh Dad!’ Amy became distressed. ‘You don’t understand! I just want us all to be together.’

‘Like a family?’ suggested Lulu, taking Amy’s hand.

‘Yes!’

‘Well, unless you guys live in the north of Scotland,’ said Isa, ‘I’m sure we could arrange something.’

‘Bristol,’ said Dan.

‘Bath,’ said Isa.

Miranda caught them exchange glances.

‘Well, I’m with Amy,’ said Miranda, ‘I think I’d like it a lot if we could spend Christmas together again, too. And not just because I didn’t have to cook and Dan is so good at it.’ And she meant it. It was the least stressful Christmas she’d spent as an adult.

‘But does it just have to be at Christmas?’ asked Anthony. ‘Maybe we could meet up at other times?’

‘Sunday lunch,’ said Isa. ‘Mum does a great roast.’

‘Which you will sample tomorrow, probably,’ said Miranda, ‘unless you want to go on eating turkey. We were going to have roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.’

‘Cool,’ said Dan. ‘I make great Yorkshires. You could come to ours, too.’

It had been a very different Christmas. As they hadn’t cooked, Miranda and Anthony cleared up together, chatting randomly, their inhibitions weakened by Anthony’s very good wine – and perhaps by their shared kisses. She couldn’t help smiling to herself at the memory.

And afterwards, instead of watching television they had got out the many different games the house provided and, as Dan insisted, played them all. Eventually, at about six o’clock, they felt able to face the mince pies that Dan had made (rough puff pastry, just perfect) and they opened their presents. But as they’d agreed only to open presents from people who were there, that didn’t take long.

Then Anthony produced the port and a bottle of Madeira and they went back to Monopoly.

Boxing Day had been largely similar – walks, games, food and jollity.

Miranda was thrilled to see Isa having a nice time with Dan. She couldn’t quite work out if they were just friends or if Dan fancied Isa – there seemed to be a fair amount of teasing. But whatever it was, Isa was laughing a lot. And Lulu seemed to get on really well with Amy, who, in spite of being younger, was mature for her age and treated Lulu like a loved older sister.

‘OK, Isa. Remind me if it’s left or right at the top?’ Miranda said, as they set off home, leaving the final look-round and rubbish disposal to Anthony, at his insistence. ‘I know both ways will get us to the main road eventually, but which one is best?’

‘Honestly, Mum! What are you like? It’s right!’

As she had suspected, the helpful, supportive Isa had been left at the house. The old, combative, challenging Isa had returned. She couldn’t help smiling.

A little later, Lulu said, ‘Dan says his dad definitely fancies you.’

Miranda was a bit surprised. ‘What on earth makes him think that?’ It wasn’t that they hadn’t got on – they had, and he had kissed her – twice – but that was because she was there and it was Christmas, and he’d
had
a couple of drinks. Miranda knew better than to make anything of it.

‘Because he wants to meet up and actually got your contact details,’ said Isa.

‘That’s only because he very kindly offered to come to my works do with me. And our families got on,’ said Miranda. ‘It won’t be anything to do with me personally.’

‘No,’ Lulu went on. ‘Amy says there are loads of women who drool over her and Dan just to impress him and their dad never does anything about it. She said there are always women offering to cook meals and he won’t have anything to do with them.’

‘Dan said he’s interested, and he should know his dad,’ put in Isa.

‘Oh,’ said Miranda.

‘And we’re going to theirs for Sunday lunch next week,’ said Isa. ‘That’s quite soon. If you’re just saying, “Oh yes, we’ll do lunch” you don’t make a definite date, do you?’

‘I really can’t remember!’ said Miranda beginning to laugh.

Mum! You’re blushing!’ said Isa.

‘I expect I’m just having my first hot flush,’ said Miranda trying not to show her excitement. But
she
was feeling the glow on the inside as well. Christmas had really worked out perfectly. And who knew what the New Year might bring?

Read on for an extract from Katie Fforde’s new novel, out in February 2013

Gina and Sally Makepiece have inherited a stall in the French House – an antiques centre nestled in the heart of the English countryside.

Gina is determined to drag the French House and its grumpy owner into the twenty-first century. Bearing all the attributes of a modern-day Mr Rochester, Matthew Ballinger is less than happy with the whirlwind that has arrived on his doorstep.

The last thing either of them want is to fall in love.

But will a trip to France change their minds?

Chapter One