With Love at Christmas

  We eat and drink in companionable silence for a few minutes. I didn’t know that I was hungry, but it seems that I am. Mellow jazz music washes over us. I can push my troubles to the back of my mind for now.

  ‘This seems like a very grown-up thing to do,’ I say, sipping my wine. Rick and I should come here sometime. Perhaps it would help our situation if he could see me again as his loving wife and not just a domestic drudge at everyone’s beck and call. ‘Thanks for persuading me.’

  ‘I don’t seem to recall you needing much persuasion.’

  ‘No,’ I laugh. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Don’t you and Rick get out much together?’

  ‘Hardly ever. There’s always someone in the family who needs us. We get very little time to ourselves. Our trip to Bruges was supposed to be the big romantic weekend we’ve promised ourselves for years, and you know what a disaster that turned out to be.’ If we had gone, I wonder, would things be different now? If that sexy nightie had come out of the suitcase, would our love have been rekindled? Would he have blocked those texts from reaching his phone?

  Now it’s Robin’s turn to laugh. ‘It was a shame you had to come home! Terrible timing.’

  ‘The joys of being a mother. And a grandmother!’

  ‘You don’t look old enough,’ he says, flirtatiously.

  ‘I frequently feel it.’

  ‘Even though we’ve not got children, Rosemary and I never come out like this any more, either. I don’t know why. We’ve just got out of the habit.’ He helps himself to more pitta bread, toys with the hummus and avoids my eyes. ‘She’s out most nights of the week – book group, choral society, Pilates, Women’s Institute. You name it, Rosemary does it. I can’t even remember what else is on the list.’ He looks at me sadly. ‘We lead separate lives now, and I don’t know how to get back to where we were.’

  ‘It takes a lot of hard work,’ I say. ‘And you both have to want to do it. Maybe you need to sit down with Rosemary and explain to her how you feel.’ Who am I to be giving advice when I can’t even keep my own husband interested in me?

  ‘We men are so rubbish at that, aren’t we? Instead of facing up to our problems, I spend longer and longer at work. Which, on the bright side, is great for business –’ he tries to make light of his words ‘– but not so good for us as a couple. I sometimes wonder if we’re going to get through this at all, or whether this is how it’s always going to be.’

  ‘You have to do something if you’re not happy, Robin.’ Here I am, dishing it out again. ‘I’m sure Rosemary doesn’t like the situation, either.’

  ‘I don’t know. People stay together for years when they’re not particularly happy with each other, don’t they?’

  I think of my parents as a prime example. I think of Rick and me. I thought we were happy together. Perhaps I’m wrong about that.

  ‘We all deserve the love we desire,’ I offer. ‘But you can create that, if you really want to.’

  ‘Think a beautiful ruby bracelet will help?’

  I smile at Robin. ‘I’m sure it will be an excellent start. See if you can get her to come to the office party, too.’

  ‘I don’t know if she’d view that as a great night out.’

  ‘It’s usually fun, and the business is an important part of your life.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ He pours us more wine.

  That’s one bottle polished off, and I really should go home soon. I’m feeling quite squiffy, and I’m sure there are things I should be doing – apart from finding out what’s going on underneath the surface of my marriage. Christmas isn’t going to sort itself out, and my To Do list doesn’t seem to be going down much. My head is whirring. It’s a good job I walked to work this morning, otherwise I’d have to leave the car here overnight.

  ‘You and Rick seem so solid.’

  ‘It hasn’t always been like that,’ I confess. ‘We’ve had our moments. A few years ago I thought about leaving him.’

  ‘You surprise me.’

  ‘An old flame came back to town, and I was sorely tempted to rekindle the fire.’ I don’t know why I’m telling Robin this. We’ve grown close over the years as we’re the only ones of a certain age in our office, and he’s confided a lot in me about his wife. The lines between boss and employee have been blurred, and I’d consider him a friend. He probably knows more than he should about my family. Perhaps the two and a half glasses of good wine are loosening my lips, too. I feel that I need someone to talk to and Robin’s here, and he’s sad about his relationship too. ‘Luckily for me, I didn’t.’

  Robin sounds shocked when he says, ‘That doesn’t seem like you at all, Juliet.’

  ‘It wasn’t like me. I was acting like someone I didn’t know. I was at a low point, I felt vulnerable, taken for granted and, frankly, unloved. Stephen swept in and made me feel like a desirable woman again. It’s a heady feeling.’ I offer a weak laugh to try to hide my embarrassment. ‘I thought I could turn my back on everything that was dear to me and start a new life with this man.’ Is this what Rick’s affair is about? Has he held this against me for the last two years? Does he think that he deserves a fling, some passion in his life? I thought he had forgiven me. More than I’d forgiven myself. ‘It would have been a disaster. Fortunately, I came to my senses and realised that my family was more important to me than anything else.’ How true that is. I thought Rick knew that. But perhaps he’s feeling unloved and taken for granted. I place my hand over Robin’s. ‘Don’t give up on your relationship just yet. It sounds like there’s hope. Keep going.’

  ‘I will,’ he says. ‘You’re a wonderful woman, Juliet. Rick’s very lucky.’

  ‘I’ll remind him,’ I joke.

  I wish I could tell him of my own anxieties. But I can’t. I have to keep it all in. Rick has a secret and, in turn, I now have one too. In reality, there are some things that Robin doesn’t need to know about. There are things I wish I didn’t know myself. Beneath my wine-induced bonhomie, my stomach is churning and I try not to think of the string of now familiar text messages on Rick’s phone from an unknown woman, or whether my husband is as happy with me as I am with him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The dancing display of Christmas lights on the house welcomes me when I get home. Which is just as well, as no one else does.

  Mum and Dad are ensconced on the sofa watching Mary, Queen of Shops. Dad looks up and says, ‘Hello, love,’ and then goes back to his telly. Mum fails to register my appearance at all. Chloe is sitting in the armchair with her iPod on while Jaden plays with his train at her feet, both absorbed in their own worlds. Looks like Tom is out, as usual. There’s no sign of Rick or Buster either, so I’m assuming they’re on their evening walk. It’s a shame I didn’t pass them on the way or I could have walked with them. The snow is still lovely and crisp on the ground and the moon is full in the sky.

  In the kitchen, I peel off my coat and kick off my shoes. With very little persuasion I’d crack open another bottle of wine and keep drinking. Resisting temptation, instead I settle for flicking on the kettle.

  Moments later, Rick comes through the door and throws his keys on the counter. Buster jumps all over me. Sometimes I wish it could be the other way round.

  ‘Where did you get to?’ Rick says. ‘I was out of my mind with worry.’

  ‘Didn’t Chloe tell you?’

  ‘You are kidding?’ He tuts as he pulls off his walking boots. ‘That bloody girl.’ More tutting. ‘Whatever you told her probably disappeared from her head less than two seconds later.’

  I should have known.

  ‘I tried your mobile a dozen times.’

  I check my phone. The ring tone must have got turned off in my handbag. There are, indeed, a dozen missed calls. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise. I went with Robin to choose his wife’s Christmas present,’ I explain. ‘Then we stopped at the Stony Wine Emporium for a drink. We should go there together sometime. It’s lovely.’

  ‘When do we ever get the ti
me to go out?’

  ‘That’s what I said to Robin. But we should make time.’

  ‘Pah,’ he says. ‘We should also predict the lottery numbers and invent a cure for cancer, but we can’t seem to do that either.’

  ‘I’d asked Chloe to make dinner, too.’

  ‘That was a waste of breath. We’d have been eating at midnight.’ Rick towels down Buster as he speaks. ‘I found a shepherd’s pie in the fridge and stuck that in the oven. Merak stayed for dinner too.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘He’s a good lad. He peeled the carrots.’

  ‘Is there any food left?’

  ‘No,’ Rick says. ‘Why? Did you want some?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I had something to eat at the wine place.’

  I make the tea and put one on the table in front of Rick. Then I watch him as he fusses the dog. I can see nothing different about him. He just looks like Rick always does. He looks like the man that I have known and loved for the vast majority of my life. He doesn’t look like a man with a secret.

  ‘What?’ He catches me staring at him.

  ‘Nothing.’ I turn away.

  When Buster is back in his basket, Rick sits down. ‘Mmm.’ He swigs his tea. ‘Thanks for that, love. You always make a good brew.’

  ‘Plenty of practice.’ I sit opposite him. ‘Rick. Things are OK between us, aren’t they?’

  ‘Of course they are,’ he says.

  ‘You’d tell me if they weren’t?’

  He seems bemused. ‘There’s nothing wrong.’

  ‘I took your phone today. By mistake.’

  A look of relief washes over him. ‘Thank Christ for that,’ he says. ‘All my contact numbers are on there. I wondered what the hell I’d done with it. I had to borrow Chloe’s to call you.’

  He doesn’t look like a guilty man at all. This would be the moment to tell him that I know someone called Lisa is texting him rather regularly. I could ask who she is. I could ask my husband what she means to him, if I have cause to worry. I could tell him that I’m frightened that he doesn’t love me any more. But I don’t.

  My voice is stoppered in my throat. My brain won’t make the right words. My heart doesn’t think it could stand the pain. So, instead, I push the phone across the table to him and I keep quiet.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘Rick,’ Merak said. ‘You have been in very quiet mood today.’

  They were loading up the van after finishing off a job - living-room carpet in Castlethorpe – before heading home for the day.

  ‘Lot on my mind, Merak,’ Rick replied as he stacked his tools.

  ‘Is it something I may help with?’

  Rick smiled. ‘If you can find a way of making our customers pay up, that would do it.’

  Take the job they’d just finished, for example. The woman was full of praise for the way they’d worked. She loved the carpet. She loved how polite Merak was. She loved how they’d tidied up after themselves. Blah, blah, blah. But when it came down to coughing up with the cash or a cheque, she suddenly didn’t love that idea so much. She didn’t have the money on her. She’d have to get it out of the bank next week, she’d said. Why hadn’t she bothered to get the money for them today, so that she could pay her debts there and then? It meant another trip back to Castlethorpe now – something he could well do without. It meant an extra hour on his day that he wouldn’t be paid for. It also meant that the feeling of pride that resulted in a job well done was replaced by a sour taste in his mouth.

  ‘Why do they not like to pay?’

  ‘Money’s tight, Merak. For everyone.’

  ‘I know. For us too, though.’

  ‘For us too.’

  ‘There is enough work?’

  ‘The book for January’s not as busy as I’d like.’ Not by half.

  The weeks were racing by, and he needed to go and do some quotes that were outstanding that might bring in some work for the start of next year. Maybe he and Merak could pop some flyers through doors whenever they had a quiet day after the holiday to drum up some business, too.

  ‘I do not wish to lose my job.’

  ‘It shouldn’t come to that, lad. You know I’ll do everything I can to keep us working.’

  With the time between now and Christmas being eaten away at an alarming rate, Juliet had given him a long list of DIY jobs that she wanted doing. Some of them – like putting the loo-roll holder back up after Tom had knocked it off the wall one night when he’d come home drunk – had needed doing for ages. So why did it matter now whether it was rectified in time for Christmas Day? Did anyone really object on that particular day to just picking up the loo roll off the shelf next to the loo like they had done for the last six months or more? Why couldn’t Tom himself fix it? Well, that was clearly a stupid question. Perhaps if there wasn’t enough flooring work in January, Merak could do some stuff around the house to fill his time. It would keep Juliet happy, and the last thing Rick wanted to do was lay Merak off, as he’d never find such a good worker again. The lad was pure gold dust.

  ‘We need to make a call on the way home. That OK?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Remember the job we did in Woodman Rise? Can you head there?’

  They jumped into the van, and Merak swung out and drove back towards the other side of Milton Keynes. At the house where they’d laid twelve square metres of black slate tiles in the kitchen, and more than twice that in oak laminate in the dining room and hall, Merak pulled up. They’d done it for a knockdown price. Needless to say, their bill was still outstanding.

  ‘I won’t be a minute, lad.’ Rick jumped out of the van and, taking a deep breath, he knocked at the door.

  The man answered. The man who had been all sweetness and light while they were working for him. Now he only cracked the door ajar and, in his hand, he held the lead of what looked like a pit bull terrier. Rick hadn’t remembered a dog when they laid the flooring there.

  ‘I’ve come about the outstanding invoice,’ Rick said.

  ‘You’ll get your money.’ Both man and dog snarled. ‘I’ve just got some cash-flow issues.’

  ‘So will I, if you don’t settle up with me.’

  ‘I told you,’ the man snapped. ‘You’ll get it.’

  ‘This is the third time of asking,’ Rick pointed out. ‘It’s overdue by three months.’

  ‘Come back in another few weeks. I have to go, I can’t hold this dog much longer.’

  Rick sighed inwardly. ‘I will be back.’

  The door slammed in his face.

  Merak watched him carefully as he climbed back in the van and stared out of the window.

  ‘That did not go well,’ Merak said.

  ‘No,’ Rick conceded. ‘I hate doing this. People should pay what they owe without me having to beg.’

  ‘They should,’ Merak agreed.

  ‘Let’s go home. There’s not much else we can do.’ He felt like breaking the bloody door down and ripping up the flooring that they’d effectively stolen from him. But where would that get him?

  Though the radio was on, his apprentice didn’t indulge in his usual sing-along – even though they were playing a Kylie Minogue tune, which were normally his favourites. Instead, Merak frowned all the way and they both sat in silence until they hit Stony Stratford. It seemed as if Rick’s dark mood was catching.

  ‘Rick,’ Merak said. ‘May I borrow the van this evening?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Rick shrugged. ‘For a particular reason?’

  He also shrugged. ‘I have some errands to do.’

  ‘OK. No drinking and driving.’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ Merak pulled the van up outside Chadwick Close. ‘I will bring it back later.’

  ‘Take it home with you, lad. Pick me up in the morning.’

  ‘I prefer to bring it back.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ Rick jumped down. ‘Stop in and we’ll have a beer when you do. If you’re not doing anything else. Juliet’s at her office p
arty tonight. We could have our own one.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Rick stood on the pavement and watched the van drive off. Across the road, his neighbour’s Christmas lights pulsed, throbbed, flickered and twinkled. Neil Harrison had an arc of reindeers travelling across his roof. His eaves were decorated with multi-function LED icicles. The front of the house sported an angel with moving wings. Every tree was adorned with a string of coloured lights. On the garage was a waterfall curtain. In the centre of the garden a big, brightly lit, coneshaped Christmas tree shone out. Over the drive were three enormous hoops of lights. Where were those from? Neil must get these from abroad somewhere. Rick had never seen anything like them in B&Q.

  He studied his own house. They were better than his, Rick thought miserably. Much better. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I always look forward to the office Christmas party. This will be my third one at Westcroft’s. At the library it was a much more sedate affair – a couple of drinks at the end of the day and some mince pies. All very low-key. Robin, on the other hand, pays for all of the staff from the three Westcroft branches to go to a hotel for dinner and a disco. We’ve been to the Holiday Inn before now, and some years before I joined they all went to Wilton Hall – which is very nice. But this year it’s The Cock again. It’s a lovely place, but not exactly The Ritz. Even so, it means that Robin still has to dig deep in his pocket to entertain us all. The people I work with are all much younger than me – apart from Robin – and certainly know how to party.

  This year, I’ve even splashed out and bought myself a new dress for the occasion. It’s odd when you get to my age, though; I feel I’ve become invisible to clothes manufacturers. What do you wear for a Christmas party? I don’t do bling all that well, so I don’t like anything too sparkly. I don’t like my cleavage on show. I’m not that keen on my arms. I like something that hides my expanding waistline and flatters my bottom. I want to look fashionable, yet not like mutton dressed as lamb – always a fine line. The term ‘glamorous’ worries me these days. It is the close cousin of ‘overdone’. The dress I’ve chosen is from one of the posher shops in Milton Keynes – still high street, but at the top end of it. Rick would die if he knew how much I’d paid, particularly with money being tight. But then I get so little opportunity to dress up now that I wanted to push the boat out. I thought about getting something radical done with the safe bob that I’ve sported for years, but bottled out as usual.