She washed up the dishes and put them away according to Petey’s instructions.
‘Who is making the fudge for you, Petey?’ she asked. ‘Are you having a market stall this weekend?’
‘I haven’t made any,’ he said. ‘I might not head down this weekend – a bit cold. The air makes me cough.’
‘You don’t have anyone to help?’ she asked, wondering if he had children or grandchildren.
‘No, it’s just me. Annie and I weren’t blessed with littluns. Shame, too, would have been nice to have a bit of company now and then as I get on.’
Christa nodded sympathetically. ‘Who do you spend Christmas with, Petey?’
‘I help out with the van,’ he said. ‘It’s fine. I like to help out, keeps me mind off my worries.’
Christa wished she could ease his loneliness and the loneliness of every other isolated person in the world. She knew what it was like to be lonely even when in a marriage.
‘I would love to do a big Christmas lunch for families or people without families who were struggling or needed company. I would make beautiful turkeys and hams and vegetables and salads. And delicious fruits with puddings and cakes for a treat.’
Christa closed her eyes. ‘I can see the space. Tall ceilings with individual tables of different sizes. I would have tablecloths, because we all deserve tablecloths and nice cutlery. And there would be Christmas crackers and presents for the children and little packs of sensible things for people like toothbrushes and toothpaste and some vouchers and things people need and use. I think about giving cooking lessons for people, teaching them how to shop and buy smart at the supermarket, making things go further and make them healthy.’
She opened her eyes to see Petey grinning at her.
‘You know, you should look at the old pub on The Street. It’s a grand place and hasn’t had anyone in it for a year or so now. Pop by when you’re on your way back today. I’ll draw you a map.’
Petey pulled out a pad of paper and pen from a drawer behind her and drew a map of the streets from his house to the empty pub, describing each turn carefully and drawing little arrows on the paper. Finally, he finished and he pushed it over to Christa.
‘Go on, have a look and let me know.’
‘Even if it’s perfect, I can’t make something like that happen on my own. I’m not a social worker and haven’t ever run a charity. I wouldn’t know what to do. It’s just a dream really.’
Petey crossed his arms, his face worn, but with a warm expression.
‘Everything is a dream to start with. When Annie started making fudge she never imagined she would one day have a stall at Shambles, and yet we did. You can do if you think about it the right way.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘By thinking about why you want to do it. Annie wanted to sell fudge because she said everyone deserved a little treat. It wasn’t about making money. I used to be a delivery man but eventually I gave up my job to help her. And that worked because I wanted to help her. If the reason is the right one, then it will happen. I’m not a rich man but Annie’s and my success means I don’t have to work but I like to. I like to meet people, people like you.’
Christa held his hand and squeezed it. ‘You’re a lovely man, Petey, really. You remind me of all the good parts of my dad.’
‘Then he must have been a fine fella to have a lass like you.’ She saw his blue eyes glisten a little as he spoke. ‘Now get out of here and let an old man have a nap. Don’t you have a pub to inspect?’
15
Pudding Hall was becoming more festive under Paul’s command. Even Peggy acquiesced to his vision, particularly after she saw the wonderful way he had used the holly and ivy and armfuls of spruce draped along the bannisters.
Ethan was filming every moment of the decorating of Pudding Hall, asking Paul about his vision and process, which Marc though was hilarious but which Ethan took very seriously.
But somehow Marc still had the feeling something was missing.
It was as though he had given the nod to the spirit of Christmas and it arrived in all its glory, throwing the front doors of Pudding Hall open and blowing magic everywhere and over everyone except Marc.
He couldn’t understand why he felt so indifferent about the whole event. Granted he didn’t have the general dislike he usually felt around this time of year but there was still a sense of distance from the excitement brewing in the house. He stood in the foyer of the house looking at the tree, splendidly dressed in all the silver and gold and red and green. The scent of the pine tickled his nose and he could hear the children chatting like magpies down the hall in the kitchen. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he let himself feel it all? Enjoy it? He had worked for it and yet he was being a Grinch more often than not.
And then it came to him. He was lonely. He had brought the children to York to spend Christmas with them, saying no to tutors and nannies and yet he still hadn’t spent enough time with them. He realised now he had brought Adam as an excuse to do business and avoid experiencing anything other than work-related activities. What he really wanted was someone to share this with. Someone to look at when the twins opened their presents and they could nod and feel smug at choosing the right thing. Someone who he could dance around the kitchen with as they organised Christmas lunch, someone who he could kiss at midnight on Christmas Eve and tell them he loved them and sit in front of the fire with them on Boxing Day and do the crossword or play charades with the kids.
God, he wanted all of that so badly it hurt. If he was honest with himself, which he had avoided doing for a long time, he had always wanted all of that, but his ex had not – and would never – want anything like that, and he hadn’t made time to meet someone who did. Was it because he was afraid it would end up like his own parents? They once had dreams, before they had children, before they drank and gambled and ruined so many lives. No one sets out to mess up their life but when you don’t own your pain then you put it onto other people, he thought.
The tree sparkled as a thin sliver of sun shone through the window and onto the deer ornament he had bought for Christa. No more passing on his pain, he thought. He’d brought the children here and he needed to be more present in every way. He went down to hallway and into the kitchen.
