In the aftermath of Gran’s passing, Gideon had been my saviour. Up until meeting him, I’d been treading water thanks to funeral arrangements, legalities and what turned out to be Gran’sfailingbusiness. Gideon helped me navigate most of the legal and financial stuff. He’d been my anchor. Thanks to him I’d got to the point where I could think about Gran without bursting into tears of sadness and, if I was honest, frustration. Not that the state of The Knitting Nook accounts should have come as a surprise. Gran was all about enjoying life. For her, the devil was not in the details.
I smiled. Although she could make any occasion fun, Christmas was Gran’s speciality. It was a legacy I intended to honour with Gideon that year; despite knowing from experience that he was used to an entirely different way of celebrating.
Gran and I used to pile into the living room in our pyjamas on Christmas morning, eager to rip open our presents in an excited free-for-all. I’d most look forward to the selection box Gran always included in my stocking and while she headed to the kitchen to make bacon sandwiches, I’d demolish a packet of buttons and a Finger of Fudge before the fridge door was even open. Gran might not have been around anymore, but looking into my shopping basket, that hadn’t stopped me keeping tradition. There was enough chocolate in there to last me right through to the new year.
Gideon’s lot, however, preferred a more structured affair. Only after they’d dressed for and eaten breakfast, did the Mayhews head into the lounge to see if Santa had been. I recalled the previous Christmas, my first without Gran, when Gideon had insisted I’d be better there with him than in Settledown on my own. Each family member took turns to unwrap a single present, while the rest of us were forced to ooh and aah over every single reveal. Of course, people celebrated differently but for a festive hooligan like me, talk about torture. Proceedings took forever.
Almost twelve months on and I’d yet to fully recover. Not only had there been no selection box, I could still feel everyone’s eyes on me as I held up my gifted copy ofThe Atkins Diet for Beginners.
‘Easier to follow than Keto and Paleo,’ Gideon’s mum, Serena, said at the time. She clearly thought I was fat, stupid or both.
That might have been my first Christmas with Gideon’s family, but I vowed it would be my last.
I shook my mind clear of the unwanted memory and turned my attention back to the mountain of games, wondering which one Gideon might prefer.Not Twister,I considered. Too serious for his own good, one look at the spotted mat and he’d declare himself out.Maybe a compendium would be better?I pondered.They’ve got something for everyone.
A rhythmic vibration in my pocket interrupted my deliberations and I pulled out my phone. Seeing Gideon’s name on the screen, my lips curled into a smile. ‘Are you psychic?’ I asked upon answering. ‘I was just thinking about you.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Gideon replied.
‘Scrabble or Guess Who?’ Sifting through the boxes of board games in front of me, I crossed my fingers hoping for the latter.
‘Sorry?’
‘Which do you prefer?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it, why?’
‘Because it’s what people do at this time of year. Play board games.’
Gideon sighed. ‘Please tell me you’re not out spending again, Hattie. We’ve talked about this.’
Being in a relationship with an accountant might have had its perks. Like being introduced to the 50-30-20 money management rule. But when it came to certain times of year it also had its downsides. Like being introduced to the 50-30-20 money management rule.
Despite Gideon’s resistance, I was determined to create the best Christmas ever and I pictured the two of us enjoying a cosy Yuletide evening in front of a roaring fire. We each held a glass of mulled wine in one hand and we were passing a dice shaker between us. ‘Now’s not the time to play Ebeneezer Scrooge. I’m being serious here.’
‘So am I. Anyway, never mind that. I’m calling about tonight.’
Closing my eyes for a second, I let the box in my hand drop. I knew what was coming. Gideon was yet again about to tell me he had a target still to meet and that with the holidays around the corner, his employer was breathing down his neck. ‘Please don’t say it.’
‘But I–’
‘Promised?’
I considered the number of times Gideon had reneged on our plans at the last minute of late. He’d missed Settledown’s Halloween and bonfire night celebrations; gone AWOL for Erin’s big birthday bash; and I’d still not forgiven him for passing on the local cinema’s digitally remastered screening ofIt’s a Wonderful Life.Only my favourite festive movie ever: that disappointment stung the most.
A screening at Settledown Picture House was like stepping back in time. Built in the early 1900s, it had one auditorium, home to rows of faded burgundy seats with wooden armrests. Intermissions were still a thing and halfway through every film, huge red curtains swished in front of the screen as the lights came on and an usherette appeared in the aisle to sell ice creams. It was the perfect setting in which to watch George Bailey’s story unfold.
Waiting in the foyer, holding two large cartons of popcorn, I knew Gideon would love all the nostalgia as much as I did, and I struggled to contain my excitement. But as the minutes ticked by and showtime neared, it was harder to ignore the growing chink in my enthusiasm. My gaze went from the building entrance to that of the auditorium, and wondering where Gideon could have got to, I refused to believe he wasn’t coming. Giving him every excuse going, I told myself he was stuck in traffic, he couldn’t find a parking space, even that he’d got lost… The box office attendant had obviously seen it all before. By the time I accepted defeat, his expression oozed pity.
About to repeat his apologies, Gideon might insist he didn’t have any choice when it came to his work commitments, but I had to question whether sometimes they were a convenient excuse.
‘I did promise, yes,’ Gideon replied. ‘And I’m sorry.’
Standing there, I wasn’t sure who I was more disappointed in. Me, for believing Gideon wouldn’t let me down again. Or him for daring to after giving his word.
‘You know what it’s like around here. The bosses are constantly on my case. I’m dealing with a stream of tax deadlines and year-end reports, and I’ve still got new accountancy laws and regulations to get my head around.’
I rolled my eyes. He was like a stuck record. ‘I understand all that, but you’re not the only one with a lot on.’
