After decorating the tree, Simon had stayed for dinner. Olivia had cooked this time: chicken marsala and angel hair pasta that they washed down with a bottle of red wine.
Then they’d watched a film on the telly, snuggled up on the sofa, and he’d finally left for home after a lingering good-night kiss in the darkened shop.
The next day they’d gone Christmas shopping in Oxford, strolling hand in hand down Cornmarket Street, rating the ornate window displays from one to ten, and then finishing with a leisurely, intimate dinner at the romantic No. 1 Ship Street, sharing a plate of plump oysters over candlelight.
Yesterday, on the twenty-third, Olivia had gone to see her mum, and Simon had half-jokingly invited himself along. He’d seemed surprised and pleased when Olivia had taken him at his word, though was concerned that he’d be infringing on her time with Tina; but her mum had been delighted and when Simon revealed that he knew how to play bridge, they’d spent several happy hours playing, taking turns with the fourth person’s hand.
Olivia hadn’t seen her mother looking so animated and lively in a long time, and although she had a few small memory blips, she still managed to come out ahead, finishing the afternoon with a magnificent three no trump bid.
“Your mum still seems sharp as a tack,” Simon remarked as they headed back to Wychwood, after sharing a takeaway curry with Tina. Simon liked mushroom dopiaza, just as she did, which felt like another small but important sign of their serendipitous synchronicity.
“Sometimes she really does,” Olivia agreed. “Other times…” She sighed, looking out at the darkened blur of sheep pasture as Simon drove down the A40 towards home. “She has another, more involved cognitive test on the twenty-eighth, at a memory clinic in Witney. I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it, strangely.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Is it?” Olivia shook her head. “If I could make this all go away, I would, in a heartbeat, but since I can’t, I’m starting to feel a diagnosis might be a good thing. Mum certainly thinks so, although she’s already made up her own mind about it, anyway.”
“Diagnoses are good things,” Simon said seriously. “Knowing what’s wrong with you, being able to get the proper help and medication…” He hesitated. “That’s really valuable.” Olivia turned to gaze at him uncertainly; it seemed as if they weren’t talking about her mum anymore.
“That’s what Mum believes, anyway,” she said after a moment. “It’s the first, necessary step.”
“Will you be okay…taking her to the appointment? I know it’s not easy…”
“Yes, I think so.” Olivia gave him a quick smile. “But I’d love to see you afterwards, if you don’t mind me downloading everything onto you.”
“Of course I don’t.” He reached over and squeezed her hand, and Olivia’s heart expanded so it was hard to breathe, but in an entirely good way. How had they got here so quickly, so wonderfully? Her natural caution and innate fear kept creeping up but more and more she was pushing them firmly back and simply enjoying this time of getting to know each other. Liking each other.
She was tired of living life on the sidelines, the supporting role to everyone else’s star. This was her story, her life. Her love.
Not, of course, that either of them had said those important words, but Olivia could envision saying them one day…perhaps even one day soon.
Now, alone in her cheerful and decorated flat, she checked the fish pie bubbling away in the oven—she and her mum had always had fish pie, as a tradition, on Christmas Eve. Olivia was going to pick Tina up from Witney, and then they’d head over to the Christmas Eve church service where Simon was playing, before all having dinner together. Tina would spend the night and Simon would return in the morning to spend Christmas with them. Really, it was all perfect.
A text pinged on her phone from Harriet. How’s it all going?
That was quite restrained for Harriet, but Olivia had been sparing with the details. She’d told her friends Simon was spending Christmas with her and Tina, but that was all. She hadn’t gone into all the other time they’d spent together, or how hard and fast she was falling for him. She wasn’t ready to share those things, didn’t want them exclaimed over and inevitably assessed and dissected.
She was relieved, in a way, that her friends were all away or busy with their own lives because for once she just wanted to enjoy her own.
With a smile, she turned off the lights and headed downstairs. An hour later she was heading into Wychwood’s parish church with Tina, the familiar smell of dust and candle wax, mixed with fresh holly and evergreen, bringing a rush of childhood memories.
“How lovely,” Tina murmured as they took their seats in a pew near the front. “They decorate the church so beautifully.”
Olivia glanced around the church as the rest of the pews began to fill up, and several people whom she’d met through the tea shop events smiled or waved at her. She did the same back, heartened that after two years she was finally feeling more part of the village. Perhaps some things just took time.
Then the service started, and the orchestra music to accompany the carol singing soared to the rafters, breath-taking and beautiful. Olivia let the music flow over her as a deep peace settled in her soul. She was thankful for so much—not just Simon coming into her life, but for her friends, her shop, her lovely, loving mum. Yes, life could be hard, and she knew there were some definite challenges ahead. But it was also good,
