The Christmas Café (21 page)

‘It’s good to meet you face to face, Alex!’ Bea felt her face break into a smile.

‘You too, sweets. And don’t worry, we have a gym in the spare room if you need to work on that saggy tum.’ He pointed a manicured finger towards the ceiling.

Flora chuckled loudly and even Bea, who had covered her eyes in embarrassment, felt her shoulders relax. ‘Oh, don’t!’ Her new best friend was quite wonderful.

‘And you must be Flora?’ Alex turned to face her, giving her sparkly eyes and open smile an admiring appraisal. ‘Well, you are as pretty as a picture.’

Flora beamed, feeling pretty for the first time in a long time.

For a few minutes the three chatted and laughed about nothing in particular, exchanging small talk, happy to be in each other’s company.

‘It’s so lovely to finally meet my new best friend!’ Alex leant forward and crushed Bea to him in another hug.

She was once again engulfed in a delicious fog of aftershave. ‘This is lovely, Alex, so cosy! And the fireplace looks stunning.’

‘Aww, thank you!’ He was clearly delighted by the compliment. ‘Now, what’ll we go for? The turkey with all the trimmings or do you want to jump straight to Christmas pud?’

‘Very funny!’ Bea smiled.

Alex clapped his hands. ‘I think warm soup and homemade soda bread might be in order. How does that sound?’

‘Sounds lovely!’ Bea finally pulled off her coat, resting it on the back of the chair.

‘And for you, doll?’ He looked at Flora.

‘Soup sounds good!’

Alex issued instructions to the kitchen and appeared minutes later to take up a chair at their table. ‘What made you decide to come over to Scotland? I mean, it’s wonderful, but a bit sudden!’

Flora sat up straight. ‘My parents have gone to Bali and I was supposed to be going, but that kind of fell through.’ She pulled a face. ‘They’re not too happy with me at the moment.’

‘That’s parents for you.’ He winked at her. ‘Why are your parents not too happy with you, young Flora?’ He leant forward, interested. ‘What did you do? Messy room? Ignore your homework?’

‘No, I had a fight with a boy and got suspended from school and then they found some stolen things, which I didn’t actually steal, but they were in my room.’

Bea pulled a face at Alex and reminded herself to brief Flora on what was and wasn’t appropriate to share with relative strangers.

‘Well, I’m sure they’ll come round.’ He patted her arm.

Flora shrugged. ‘So Bea and I got to thinking about all the places we might like to visit in the whole wide world and we ended up here.’

‘I think I was influenced by your vivid descriptions of your walks. It sounded so peaceful,’ Bea explained.

‘My walks?’ Alex looked confused.

‘The misty moors, the tranquil lochs, the smoke hovering above the water.’ She sighed wistfully.

‘Oh,
those
walks. Yes, very lovely.’ He smiled. ‘And so you just jumped on a plane – how very jet-set!’ Alex laughed. ‘Not sure it would have been my first choice if the whole wide world was on offer. I think the Maldives would rate pretty highly, or maybe New York for New Year, that would be fun. Mind you, I’ve always wanted to go to Sydney.’

‘You’d be welcome any time,’ Bea assured him.

‘Yes, great and I could hire Flora as my very own security! Which is handy.’

Bea laughed. She liked Alex, a lot. ‘Tait, who I work with, calls her Little Klitschko.’ She tutted.

‘I like that.’ Alex grinned.

A middle-aged woman in a long red cardigan with a striped apron over the top approached their table with a tray on which sat two deep bowls of steaming soup, a wooden breadboard with a dense loaf cut into chunks, and an ample supply of butter.

‘You’ll love this, especially after a chilly walk up at Holyrood; it’ll warm your bones. My mother’s recipe. Thank you, Elsie.’

The woman gave the slightest nod of her head as she deposited the bowls in front of Bea and Flora. ‘I used to take ma bairns up t’Arthur’s seat. They’d sit atop and eat a jeely piece and if it was real cold they’d get a poke a cheps on way home. Long time ago, eh?’ She sighed.

Flora and Bea stared at Elsie; it wasn’t just that they couldn’t understand half the words she’d used, it was the speed at which she’d delivered them. Bea nodded, to be polite. Flora took the bull by the horns. ‘What part of Poland are you from?’ she said slowly, courteously.

‘Glasgow,’ Elsie replied as she sloped back to the kitchen, shaking her head.

Bea ladled a spoonful of soup into her mouth. ‘Ooh, this is good. What is it?’

‘Cock-a-leekie.’ Alex nodded matter-of-factly.

Bea bit the inside of her cheeks; this was no time for childish giggles.

‘So, do you have a boyfriend, Flora?’

Flora shook her head. ‘Not really. I do like this one boy though. Marcus. In fact he’s the one I punched.’

‘You punched him?’ He placed his hand on his breastbone and looked at Bea. She raised her eyebrows in confirmation. ‘Is this some Australian courting ritual that I don’t know about? Do you all go about punching people you like? Goodness me, child. Should I punch
you
, Bea? I mean, I do like you.’

‘I’d really rather you didn’t.’ Bea drank spoonfuls of her soup in quick succession.

Flora pulled off a lump of bread and slathered it with butter. ‘I’m not a child. I’m fourteen in a couple of weeks.’

‘Flora! I have underwear older than you,’ Alex replied.

Flora was unsure of the relevance. ‘I don’t know if I love him, but I really like him. I want to be with him all the time.’

‘I guess the question is, does he love you back?’

‘I... don’t know. I sometimes think he might, but I don’t know.’ Flora stared at the table.

‘You sometimes
think
he might? Well, that’s what you need to find out! No point going through all this upset if you don’t even know if it’s got legs! You need to make sure, honey. Don’t be living in sadness, otherwise you might end up like Bea and me, sitting on our own, tip-tapping into our laptops at all hours of the day and night!’ He chortled and banged the table.

Bea laughed. It was fun to be with this loud, exuberant, jokey man. He was quite different from how he’d come across in his emails, which had been considered, cultured and calm.

‘I don’t want to end up like you two! But it’s not that simple. My friend Lori likes him too...’ Flora flashed a weak smile.

‘Ah, young love. Chance would be a fine thing, eh, Bea?’ Alex said.

Bea nodded. ‘Yes, indeed. It’s been just over a year since Peter died.’

‘Aye, you said. For me it’s nearly seven since my Robert died and I’m still heartbroken. It’s hard to get back out there.’

‘Seven? I thought it was ten years?’ Bea said, thinking back to their email exchange.

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It was six years ago, coming up to seven. You don’t forget that sort of anniversary, do you? The day, the minute, your world fell apart.’

Bea nodded sympathetically, annoyed with herself for obviously having got that wrong. She paused, then asked, ‘Did he work here, at the Christmas Café?’ An image flashed up in her head of Peter pottering about in the Reservoir Street Kitchen of a morning, keeping her company, reading the papers and drinking her profits in gulps of demitasse.

‘No. He was an accountant, a lovely, quiet man. We lived upstairs.’ He pointed towards the ceiling. ‘That’s why I stay. I see him sitting on the sofa and sense him around the place. It helps a little.’ His smile slipped a little. ‘I still talk to him. I’d like one more day with him, one more hour to talk to him. That’d be something.’

‘Yes, I often think that too,’ Bea replied, swallowing her emotion. ‘How I would love one more day. But then I’m pretty sure I’d need another and another – so much to catch up on. Peter and I were great friends.’

‘Us too. We were like chalk and cheese, but it worked. He had my back, y’know? Always had my best interests at heart and that felt so great. I wasn’t always that discerning back in the day, so to find him was like winning the greatest prize.’ He placed his hand on his chest. ‘Oh, Bea, I treasured him! I really did.’

Flora stared wide-eyed at Alex.

‘It sounds like you were lucky to have each other,’ she soothed.

‘We were, we really were.’ He tutted and then clapped. ‘God, I’m sorry, this is maudlin. There’s me wittering on about how hard not speaking is, and yet for you it must be doubly hard, being single all of a sudden—’

‘You mean at my age?’ Bea interrupted. ‘Embarking on later life all by myself? Yes, it is a bit scary. Unnerving, I suppose.’

‘You don’t seem unnerved. In fact, you seem pretty sorted to me.’ He tilted his head to further survey her.

‘Well, thank you. Yes, I am in lots of ways. But I can’t help wondering how come so many of us end up alone at the very time we need someone most. Getting older is harder when you’re on your own; a steady hand on the tiller would make all the difference.’

‘That’s exactly what Robert was for me.’ Alex swallowed. ‘Even though I’d only just turned thirty when I lost him.’

‘You must feel cheated,’ Bea said sadly, gazing into the distance. ‘So young, so much you didn’t get to do—’

‘Gran knows about that too, don’t you?’ Flora interjected with typical bluntness, staring at Bea, unfazed at sharing her confidences with their new friend. ‘She loved someone a long time ago but they didn’t get very long together.’

Bea inhaled sharply and Alex looked shocked. ‘Gosh, that all sounds rather intriguing. You talk about Peter with such fondness, I assumed he was the one.’

Bea considered how best to continue. ‘Oh, Peter was wonderful, wonderful! And yes, we were very happy. Twenty-seven years of happiness. He was a truly great friend. He was very kind to my son and me, but there was no passionate, all-consuming love. I loved him, yes, but not body, mind and soul, not that kind of love.’

‘Blimey, that’s a bit of a shocker. Did he know how you felt?’

‘Oh yes, we were always very open with each other. He knew I was fond of him, loved him, and I have no doubt that he loved me, but I believe that his capacity for love was limited by the amount I was able to give in return. It’s one of those things that with hindsight I can see may have done us both a disservice. Maybe I stopped him from finding his soulmate and maybe he did the same for me.’

‘Do you really believe in that, then?’ Flora looked at her gran with eyes full of hope. ‘That people have soulmates? Someone that you love in that way and they love you in that way right back?’

Bea smiled at her granddaughter. ‘I know it exists. I glimpsed it once and it was wonderful, magical.’ A voice filled her head.
‘Please,
take
my scarf,
Miss Beatrice...’
‘But the timing was all wrong and so that was that.’

‘That’s such a shame.’ Alex seemed quite choked.

Bea smiled at this grossest of understatements. ‘Yes, it was a great shame.’

‘Forgive me if I’m being insensitive or rude...’ Alex drew breath, hesitating almost. ‘But if you knew that this potential soulmate existed, why didn’t you go and find him when Peter died or why didn’t you hook up with him at some point before Peter?’

‘Because he wasn’t free.’ Bea spoke levelly.

‘He wasn’t in jail or anything like that.’ Flora felt the need to clarify.

Bea yelped as Alex laughed. ‘No! For goodness sake! Of course he wasn’t in jail!’ She tutted at the very suggestion. ‘But he was trapped; he was with his equivalent of Peter. God, that sounds awful, but it’s the truth.’

Alex sat up straight and cleared his throat. He seemed a little overcome by the situation. ‘Goodness me, this has been quite a getting-to-know-you party!’

‘I’ve loved meeting you today, Alex.’

‘And I you. And you, adorable Miss Flora, Little Klitschko.’

‘Do you know, Alex, I feel like I’ve known you all my life.’ Bea spoke truthfully as he embraced her in a warm hug.

It had been a long day. As Bea and Flora climbed the steps up to The Balmoral, they turned to take one last look down the length of Princes Street. There was a hush in the air, almost of anticipation. And then one tiny white flake fell in front of Flora’s eyes and landed on her gran’s coat, disappearing the instant it hit the navy wool of her lapel. This was quickly followed by another and another.

‘Oh my God!’ Flora yelled as she ran back down the steps. ‘Bea! Bea! It’s snowing! It’s actually snowing!’ she shouted, twirling on the pavement with her arms outstretched.

Bea captured the moment and filed it away under her most precious of memories. She knew she would never forget the sight of her beautiful Aussie granddaughter standing there with her toffee-coloured hair glinting in the lamplight as tiny snowflakes landed on her nose and eyelashes.

‘Come on! You have to come down here!’ Flora called. ‘It feels like Christmas!’

Bea trod the stairs and turned her face towards the sky. It was a lifetime since she’d last felt snow on her skin but she instantly recalled the unique sensation of the tiny crystals turning to water the second they hit her face. She closed her eyes and remembered standing in the back of her granny’s garden in the snow. Her sister ran around her, crunching the flakes into tiny, hard balls that she threw at the wall. Bea had looked up then as she did now and thought the heavens were rushing down to meet her. It was blinding, exhilarating, disorientating. It was magic.

Bea didn’t realise she was crying until Flora placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. How could she begin to explain that she was crying for her life that had passed so fast, in the blink of an eye? It felt like mere months ago that she had stood in the snow, a little girl with her whole life ahead of her, smiling and rosy-cheeked as her gran baked a pie for supper in the warm, welcoming kitchen. She longed to be that little girl again, just for one day. A whole day without having to carry the heartache, recriminations, regrets and grief that had shaped her, a whole day of thinking that the world was a wonderful place, because she had never seen its cruelty. A whole day that she would get to spend in the snow with her family, because they still loved her and she was still pure.