Darcie Boleyn - Wish Upon A Christmas Cake

‘Well seeing as how tomorrow is Christmas Eve, we’re going to have to rise bright and early to achieve all that. Better hit the sack immediately. I’ll give you a call around five, shall I?’

Five? ‘Yeah sure. I’ll be ready.’ And I would be. I had the opportunity to think about something else other than work – though I would need to text Ann to make sure that everything at the shop ran smoothly. Time to stop worrying about whether I had the capacity to fall in love or even the compassion and understanding required by another person. It was time to think about making some other people happy. I mean, my beautiful cakes made people happy all the time, but in this case I was going to create a special Christmas to remember for an old friend and his young children. Because even though Sam and I had once been so much more, he was, ultimately, one of my best friends growing up. Yes things had gone wrong but that happens in life, not all relationships work out and life is not a fairy tale. And there had been reasons for our split that would have tested any relationship.

For the first time in ages, when I climbed between the cool cotton sheets that night, I didn’t pass out from exhaustion. Instead, I drifted gently off to sleep, with a smile on my face and the tingle of hope and anticipation in my belly.

Chapter 4

Christmas Eve I woke up bright and early feeling incredibly refreshed and positive. I bounced out of bed and into the shower, then rummaged through my clothes. After selecting black leggings, a long-sleeved tunic and pulling on my battered old cowboy boots, I was ready for whatever the day would bring. I checked my iPhone. It was five forty-five am. So early! Karl hadn’t woken me at five, as promised, but part of me had doubted that he would. My brother had always liked his bed and now that he had a hot Italian lover to share it with, he’d find it even harder to leave it, no doubt.

I ran a brush through my hair, then sighed. It just never did what I wanted it to do; instead it sprang stubbornly off in all directions. I shrugged. I’d spent my teenage years longing for different hair, a different figure, a different me altogether. I was past thirty now, so it was time to accept what I’d been given.

Right, what was it I’d said last night? I would do my best to ensure that Sam and his children enjoyed Christmas. He was a nice guy and had been a very good friend. I’d cried on his shoulder many times and fallen asleep in his arms. Of course, those shoulders and arms of his hadn’t been quite so broad back then but he had been able to make me feel safe and loved. Until the unthinkable happened and I’d been thrown into a chasm of vulnerability that no one had been able to rescue me from. Only time had helped; that and throwing myself into pursuing my chosen career, but I knew that I wasn’t completely fixed. I harboured a doubt that I ever would be.

My stomach growled. Time for breakfast and some strong coffee. Not that I needed it to wake up this morning because excitement was coursing through my veins like a fine pinot noir, but because coffee was part of my daily routine. And I liked it – a lot. Cappuccino. Latte. Espresso. With milk or without. Whatever form it took, caffeine was my wake-up drink of choice. I crossed the room and pulled the curtains apart, then gasped.

It had snowed overnight. The barn and the cars had a fluffy white dusting and when I craned my neck to peer down the driveway, I could see that the trees had the same. It was a picture-perfect postcard. I wondered if Jack and Holly would be excited. We could make a snowman and have a snowball fight with Karl and Dad and go sledging and… Hold on a moment, lady! Was I actually looking forward to spending time with children? With my family? Or was I getting carried away as I had a tendency to do? Harrison used to call moments like these my Kat-nip Hypers, when I’d have bursts of hyperactivity and be full of energy and positivity. I liked to think that it was my optimistic side, my youthful exuberance shining through. Had he been right advising me to ‘rein it in a little’, because all too often, if things didn’t go quite as planned, I could end up dejected?

I shook my head. No. He was not right about me. I did not need to be completely in control. Just watch me. Today I would be chilled, relaxed, floaty. A bit like Aunty Gina. I’d go with the proverbial flow. Gah! Well, I would try, at least.

In the kitchen, Mum was already preparing breakfast. ‘Morning, Katie.’ She cast me a sideways glance as she poured freshly boiled water onto coffee.

‘Morning. Sleep well?’

‘If you can call tossing and turning until I finally passed out from sheer exhaustion well…then…I mean, yes, thank you.’ She wrinkled her perfectly straight nose.

Did she just auto-correct herself? ‘My bed was really comfy. Wasn’t yours?’

‘Not really, Katie. For some reason our room has a waterbed.’ She shivered as if the final word was dirt encrusted.

‘A waterbed?’ I gasped in mock horror, swallowing my laughter.

‘Keep your voice down,’ she muttered. ‘All night long, every time your father moved, all I could hear was sloshing and slooshing beneath me. I felt quite seasick.’

My mother was admitting to a weakness – even if it was an aversion to waterbeds. I pressed my lips together hard. ‘Did Dad sleep?’

‘Like a well-rocked baby.’ She sighed as she poured milk into large mugs with colourful Christmas scenes painted on them. I stared at the heart lifting images of families sledging, carol singers crowded together around a glowing brazier and Santa Claus flying through the air in his sleigh pulled by a red nosed reindeer.

‘Have you looked outside, Mum?’

She nodded.

‘It actually snowed last night!’ I gave a little bounce.

‘Snow? Looks like a heavy fros— Yes, it’s beautiful. Could you give me a hand please, Katie?’ Mum smiled then and I nearly lost my balance. What on earth was going on?

‘Yeah…sure. What do you want me to do?’

She directed me to the bacon and the frying pan and I spent the next ten minutes happily breathing in the delicious aroma of smoked bacon and humming along to the carols on the radio. Mum even joined in when Elvis crooned ‘It’ll be lonely this Christmas’. It wasn’t so bad being with Esther like this. It wasn’t like we’d ever be best friends but we had cooked together quite a lot when I was growing up and it seemed to be the one time when we could tolerate being in close proximity.

When everything was ready – buttered toast, fried bacon, mushrooms, huge juicy grilled tomatoes and poached eggs – we carried it all into the dining room. Dad was there reading the newspaper and looking like the lord of the manor.

‘Morning!’ I sang. ‘How’d you get the papers so early?’

‘Your father popped out before we all woke up,’ Mum replied and her cheeks flushed bright pink. Was she hiding something? ‘I’ll just fetch the toast.’

I watched her leave, frowning with confusion as the toast was already on the table. Why had she fled to the kitchen? What were they up to?

‘Hey, Katie. How’d you sleep?’ Dad seemed to suddenly notice me.

‘Great thanks, Dad.’ I kissed him on his proffered cheek.

‘Good morning, Warhams.’ Karl entered the room followed by Angelo. They really were the most gorgeous couple. Karl was the perfect athletic blonde with his golden skin and expensively highlighted hair and Angelo was dark, brooding and tight-bodied. Their joy in each other just oozed out of them in a smug, sated, sensual way.

A tap at the front door drew my attention. ‘I’ll just see who that is,’ I announced, trying to appear calm as I left the room. As if I didn’t know. Sam, Jack and Holly bustled through the front door, then stamped their feet on the welcome mat. The three of them were giggling excitedly and I overheard the words sledging and snowman. I’d have to check the forecast because more snow was definitely needed at Hawthorne Manor. It just had to dump more of the fluffy white stuff to make their Christmas perfect. But once we’d been out to get a tree. Not before. We needed a tree.