She remembered once – she’d been crying because she overheard Nan arguing with Mum on the phone about how she wasn’t Nan’s responsibility – and he must have heard her. He’d leaned out of his window and tapped on hers with the end of a broom. It’d scared the life out of her at first, but when she looked out and saw he was there, concerned, she hadn’t been embarrassed. Just grateful. They’d both snuck out into the garden and he’d made her hot chocolate and listened. Then he’d taught her a bunch of swear words in French to make her laugh. She’d been shocked he even knew any – he was always so calm.
Even though his parents had only recently divorced too, and his mum had left France, so he only got to see her a few times a year, he hadn’t been angry, like Ash had. Or at least, he’d never come across that way. But, having spent time with him at the bar, and walking home carrying the tree, last night was making Ash reconsider her opinion a little. He still smiled and laughed more readily than anyone she’d ever met, but there was something different in his eyes now. A touch of hesitancy or doubt.
Perhaps it was his own divorce that had put it there? Maybe being jaded following his parents’ divorce would have served him better? Ash wasn’t counting on a man to sweep in and fix the problems in her life. As far as she could tell relationships just brought hassle and heartache in the end. And that would only count double when it came to Parisian chefs who would vanish off to France as soon as Christmas was over.
No, as far as finding ‘magic’ was concerned, all Ash wanted was to enjoy herself and hopefully see her mum.
And the tree was a good start. She’d said yes to taking ownership of the tree, instead of letting the practicalities of it get in the way, and now they had a brand-new, pretty Christmas tree which – with a bit of redecorating – would look lovely in the living room. Once she broke the news of it to her nan.
Her mum and her nan had never really got on. They were complete opposites. Nan was all old-fashioned austerity and Mum wanted bright lights and glamour. How they could share DNA was mind-boggling, but then how much was Ash like either of them? They were a dynasty of women tenuously tied together by blood and kept apart by clashing personalities.
Ashleigh picked up her phone and took a photo of the tree, then sent it to her mother. Maybe if Ash proved to her mum that they were embracing Christmas this year, she might feel more inclined to join them to celebrate? And that was just a case of two birds, one stone, really.
So, what else could Ash do to prove to her mother that Christmas in Brighton wouldn’t be the usual dull, shoestring affair?
She hit the Amazon icon on her phone, looking up Christmas lights. She was going to order some. A big box of colourful lights to brighten this drab little house up and join in with the whole street. They weren’t too expensive but once she’d filled up her virtual basket the price mounted up, and she hesitated.
She was really going to have to see about getting a better job in the new year. Something more than the piecemeal waitressing in and around jobs that were barely classed as acting; something regular. But what? Shop work maybe, or an office junior role? Once she did, she was going to have to admit to her mum that acting wasn’t for her and she was giving it up.
That was probably something better done in person. When it wouldn’t feel like she was snipping the one thin thread that held them together. And if they’d shared a fun, festive Christmas, maybe that would help too. It might remind her mum that there was more to their relationship than a shared interest in drama.
Ash hit the button on the screen to check out. Her nan was probably going to kill her but she’d deal with that at the time. And, if Ash hung the lights up high enough, her nan wouldn’t be able to reach to take them down anyway.
