“Sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up…”
“No, it’s okay. Something to think about, anyway.” She smiled, or tried to, but she felt strange inside, like part of her had just developed a hairline crack that was surely getting wider and wider. “I’d better shower and change. I’m due to pick Mum up soon.”
“What can I do down here?” Ellie still looked concerned and apologetic, as if she regretted bringing the whole father thing up.
“Just man the fort, really. Stir the wine on occasion. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Upstairs in her flat, Olivia knew she should hurry to get ready, but some strange and persistent curiosity had her taking a stool to reach the high cupboard above her bed where her mum stored all sorts of things—boxes of jumbled ribbons and thread, old cords to various appliances and devices that no longer worked, and photo albums.
Olivia took out the oldest one, the one she hadn’t looked at very much. Her mum hadn’t been much of one for photo albums; instead she and Olivia had made a framed collage of photos for each year of her childhood. Tina had taken many of them to her flat in Witney, and a few were still left here. But the collages started after Olivia was two.
Now she perched on the edge of the bed and opened the dusty album, smoothing the wrinkled plastic that covered the old, now-faded photos. There weren’t many—a dozen in all, if that. Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at them. She’d never been curious, which now seemed odd; but in her child’s mind she’d drawn a very firm line across the past. Her life had begun at age two, when it was just her and Mum.
Except of course it hadn’t. She squinted, peering at the slightly blurry photo of them at Blackpool. Her father had her sandy hair, although his was cut short and didn’t look frizzy. In the photo he had her hoisted on his shoulders and she had her arms around his neck like a little, smiling-faced monkey.
What had happened? Why had she never really wanted to know? How could a man, a loving husband and father judging by admittedly just a handful of snaps, have walked away from it all? From his own child?
A lump was forming in her throat, a stone in her stomach. She felt heavy, burdened by a weight she hadn’t even realised she’d been carrying all these years. She’d always been fine about her dad’s leaving. It had never mattered, because Mum was enough. And in many ways her mum had been enough, but there was, Olivia realised, a dad-shaped hole in her life, and there always had been.
Dr Jekyll stalked into the room and jumped onto her bed, startling her out of her reverie. With a jolt Olivia realised nearly half an hour had passed. She closed the album and put it on her bedside table, to look at later. Right now she needed to focus on the present.
An hour and a half later she was throwing open the door of Tea on the Lea to a satisfyingly large crowd—well, at least a dozen people, but the little shop couldn’t fit many more. Christmas carols played merrily, and the space was filled with festive smells, ringing with laughter, filled with friends, acquaintances, and a few smiling strangers besides. More than one person told Olivia they hadn’t even realised Tea on the Lea had been on the high street—but they were sure to stop in now. Words to warm her heart, and hopefully increase her bank balance.
Tina was circulating with platters of cupcakes and mince pies, and Ellie was doling out the mulled wine and apple cider, served in Olivia’s ever-growing collection of mismatched teacups.
After an hour, when many of the cakes had been scoffed and cups of wine or cider drunk, Olivia decided it was time to start the Christmas quiz. Simon still hadn’t made an appearance, and she tried not to let that bother or worry her as she called everyone to attention and began to hand out pencils and sheets of paper for the quiz.
“You can work in teams… Phones away please!” She gave a look of semi-mock severity at Harriet’s husband Richard, who had been thumbing buttons on his phone.
“You can’t get good reception in here, anyway,” he said good-naturedly, and Harriet poked him in the ribs.
“Or anywhere in the village. Let’s do this the old-fashioned way. Set a good example for the kids.” She rolled her eyes at Olivia. “He’s always been competitive.”
“You’re a good match, then,” Olivia teased. The sound of jingle bells as the door opened had her lifting her gaze and then her heart turning over as she saw Simon coming in—unwinding his scarf, smiling sheepishly, looking wonderful.
“You’re just in time for the quiz,” Ava called out with a devilish glint in her eyes. “Why don’t you go on Olivia’s team?”
“I don’t have a team,” Olivia protested. “I know all the answers.”
“Even so,” Ava said, grinning. “It seems fitting.”
“Oh, really.” Olivia turned away to hide her blush. Ava didn’t need to be so obvious, but Simon was laughing and somehow Olivia didn’t mind. In fact, she rather liked it—the good-natured teasing, the feeling that she was part of something.
“Sorry I’m late,” Simon murmured as he joined her at the front. “Stroppy parent.”
“These Cotswold mummies can be quite precious about their children sometimes.”
“Indeed. Have I missed very much?”
“Just a few cups of mulled wine.” Olivia cleared her throat. “All right now! Question number one…”
The quiz went swimmingly, with plenty of good-natured competitiveness and joshing, and a bottle of fairly decent plonk to the winning team. Afterwards Olivia topped up more glasses and served more cakes, before they ended the evening with a collection of carols to sing.
I’m happy, she realised with a jolt as she stood side by side with Simon, singing Ding Dong Merrily on High. Happier than I’ve been in a long while. She didn’t think she’d been
