Page 21 of Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall
Marc had taken the boys upstairs to get ready for bed, since they had stayed up later than usual. There had been a lot of laughter and chatting over dinner, and Adam and Paul had great stories about when they met in New York and Paul’s work as an interior stylist for celebrities in Los Angeles.
‘Pick up anyArchitectural Digestand I can tell you the budget, who is selling and if it’s a divorce about to be announced and why my work is the best on the West Coast,’ Paul stated.
‘He’s right, it is the best,’ said Adam. ‘You know he said no to the family starting with K because they buy their artwork by the metre.’
Christa made a face. ‘Horrendous.’
‘I know, right?’ said Paul. ‘I mean one of them looked at a Rothko and asked if he could make it bigger? The man’s been dead for more than fifty years.’
Christa laughed. ‘I get it. My place in London was decorated by my ex and it’s very impersonal. Not me at all.’
‘Photos?’ asked Paul and she looked up the listing on her phone and handed it to him. He swiped through the photos. ‘It’s very masculine, sort of Four Seasons, Hyatt inspired?’
‘Yes, he wanted it to feel like a hotel.’ She sighed.
‘I went to a conference at a place like this once,’ Paul said.
Christa started to laugh again. ‘God, it’s not me,’ she said. Marc had returned and was holding the phone now, swiping through the images.
He looked up at her. ‘What is you? What is your style?’
She paused and thought for a moment. ‘Warmth. Colour. Fun. Something pink and flowers and gardens and teapots and things that I love around me. Probably too girly for most men but I am unashamedly in love with the colour pink and anything fun.’
Marc handed her back her phone. ‘You shouldn’t ever apologise for what you like,’ he said and she appreciated him saying that.
There was one tense moment when Paul, after a few glasses of wine, asked why there weren’t any Christmas decorations.
A cloud seemed to cover the dinner for a moment until the boys cheered and said they wanted a tall tree and stockings over the mantel and could they make a gingerbread house? ‘Please, Christa?’ they begged.
Marc hadn’t said anything but the energy in the room changed and he ordered the children upstairs to shower and bed.
Christa didn’t ask what it was about but the spell was broken and she was back to being chef and a staff member.
Not that it troubled her now as she stepped from the shower. Her room was snug with the gas fire on and the lamps dimmed. Christa had never had an open fire in her bedroom before and now she wondered how she would ever not have one again. There was a small mantel above the flames and she wished she had some Christmas trinkets to place on top. Even a little garland of holly would suffice. Perhaps she might buy a few things and place them in her bedroom. Marc Ferrier couldn’t say anything about that if it was in her room, could he?
Christa dried herself and pulled on her favourite Christmas flannel pyjamas with cute little puddings on them and the complimentary robe from the bathroom.
There was a soft knock at her door and she opened it, surprised to see Marc Ferrier outside her door.
‘Oh, hi, did you want something to eat?’ she asked, wishing she wasn’t wearing the namesake of the house on her body.
She saw Marc’s eyes take in her nightwear and he gave her a small smile. ‘You have puddings on your pants.’
‘Um, yes, yes I do,’ she said, wishing she could fall into a hole and never climb out.
‘They’re fun,’ he said and then seemed to catch himself.
‘Thank you,’ she said wishing she was in a sensible pantsuit and not PJs. ‘How can I help you?’ she prompted him.
‘Oh I just wanted to say thanks again for today and tonight. And to make sure we’re okay.’
She nodded. ‘Of course. I have no issues at all.’
Marc nodded and stepped away as though to head back down the hallway and she couldn’t stop herself.
‘Do you think we could buy some decorations? I know you’re not keen but the boys would like it. Might add some spirit to the house, you know?’
Marc stared at her, his face stony again.
