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‘Can I ask you a question?’ Mack placed the remaining half of his mince pie back on the plate and looked her in the eye.
‘I guess so.’
‘Hold on, you have a little…’ He reached across the table and gently wiped the pad of his thumb across her lip. ‘There. You had some cream.’
‘Oh, thanks.’ She wiped her lips with a napkin. ‘What’s your question?’
‘What don’t you like about Christmas?’
Scrunching up her nose, she shrugged. ‘What is there to like?’
‘Christmas trees, lights, all the gorgeous food and drink.’ He signalled to the table. ‘And above all, the kindness it brings out in people.’
‘Really? That’s such a cliché.’ She laughed, dismissing him.
‘Is it? Look around you. People are happy. They’re helping each other out.’ He indicated the surrounding crowds.
Sighing, she twisted around in her chair. He was right. Everyone here was either smiling, laughing, or generally looking as though they were having a good time. Mack touched her elbow and pointed across to the far side of the hall. Following his gaze, she watched as a group of people came to the rescue of a woman whose bag had split open, baubles, wooden ornaments and woollen hats spilling across the laminated floor. Shaking her head, Poppy turned back around and picked up her mug again.
‘If a person needs a festive holiday like Christmas in order to be kind, what does that tell you about them? And of course, everyone here looks happy. They’ve chosen to come here. They’re not being forced into anything. It’s not like going to work or having a tooth pulled out. It’s a Christmas market.’
‘I think you’re wrong. I think people are generally kind, the majority of them anyway. Christmas just adds that extra layer of magic; it brings people together.’
‘Is that why you like it so much, Mr Christmas?’ She smirked.
Leaning back in his chair, Mack looked around the room before meeting her eyes. ‘I love this season because it offers hope. Whatever is happening in life, or however hard things are, Christmas is something to look forward to. Something to keep you moving forward.’
‘That’s pretty deep.’ What did he know about hardship? He owned his own veterinary practice, he had enough money to splash out on designer gifts if he wanted to. He was happy. He clearly hadn’t just been through a life-changing break-up.
‘So I’ve told you mine. You need to tell me yours. You’ve still not said why you hate it so much.’
Poppy shifted in her chair. ‘I never said Ihateit. I’m just not so disillusioned to think that one day will have any positive effect on my life.’
‘Have you never liked Christmas? What about when you were a child?’
Looking down at her nails, Poppy used her thumbnail to scrape off a little more of the blue polish. Had she liked Christmas as a child? Probably. As a young child, anyway. As a teenager, she’d always dreaded the day. The mornings had been lovely; walking across to her grandma’s house with her mum whilst her dad had gone to the pub to meet her uncle. The afternoons though when they’d been back home, just the three of them? Not so much. In fact, she’d retreated to her bedroom as soon as Christmas dinner had been eaten and laid on her bed trying to block out the noise of her parents arguing whilst she began her new book.
‘I used to get a new book for Christmas each year. It was a tradition I loved. Does that count?’
Mack took a slow breath in. ‘Yes, I guess that does. What about as an adult?’
Poppy leaned back in her chair and sighed. She picked up her mobile, turning it onto its side, its front, its side, its back. She didn’t really want to tell him about the Christmases at Ben’s parents’ house, experiencing the loving family atmosphere for the first time, being made to feel as much as much part of the family as Ben himself. Up until a couple of years ago, when Ben’s parents had started to go away to celebrate with his dad’s brother in Spain and she and Ben had begun to spend their Christmas Days sitting pretty much in silence with old Christmas movies playing on a loop on the TV.
‘Why all the questions?’
Mack took another sip from his mug. ‘Just trying to get to know you, I guess.’
‘Why? I’m just an owner of a patient of yours. Not even an owner.’ She glanced at her phone screen, suddenly realising the time. ‘I need to go. I have to meet Ginny.’
‘Right. Of course. I should get back to the surgery too.’
Pushing her chair back, Poppy stood up. ‘Thanks for the hot chocolate and mince pie.’
‘No problem.’
She rushed outside, weaving between families and couples, gripping her phone in her hand. Why had Ben rung? What did he want to talk about?
11
