Page 45 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
Sometimes on a Sunday, when Matt’s mum was busy baking or doing the books, Mac would take Matt to watch the cricket; sometimes they’d play an inning. He’d energetically tried to engage Kate’s interest in it but to no avail, and so it became something he and Matt would do together. Kate didn’t begrudge either of them their time together; it kept her out of the stands and made her dad happy.
•••••
“I liked Dan,” said Mac, going off on his own tangent. “He was a good chap. A real go-getter. And I liked that other one too, what was his name? You sent back photos from Morocco?”
“Aaron,” said Kate.
“That’s the one. I could tell you liked him. But he didn’t make you sparkle.”
“I’m not looking for sparkle, Dad,” said Kate. “I am on a grown-up-woman mission to find a suitable, sensible partner who has no improper pride and is perfectly amiable.”
“Have you been watchingPride and Prejudiceagain?” asked Mac.
“Maybe,” said Kate.
They ate the rest of their soup and crusty bread in companionable silence, while outside it began to snow again. After lunch her dad helped her clear up and Kate helped him in with the veg basket. He gathered up a few vegetables for himself and some for Evelyn and left the rest for Kate.
“I’ll leave the rest in the ground, ready for Christmas dinner,” said Mac as he left for home. The snow was coming down quite heavily and his footprints up to the vegetable patch had been all but filled in.
“Dad,” said Kate. “Have you ever considered, you know, getting back out there again, you know, trying to meet someone?”
“I certainly have,” said Mac, and he gave her a wink that she couldn’t quite fathom.
Kate worked on her sketches until it was too dark, even with the lamps on, to get a clear sense of the colors. She rinsed out her brushes and laid some papery pressed flowers along the top of the table, ready for the morning. Below them she placed an illustrated treasury of nursery rhymes. It was a large tattered book, passed down from her grandma. Kate used to spend hours as a child looking at the pictures of ruby toadstools and fairies hiding in flowers. Now she would use them as inspiration for her spring collection.
The phone rang.
“Don’t hate me,” said Laura.
“Why? What have you done?”
“Ben’s been called away with work,” said Laura. “I can’t make it to your Dates with Mates night. I’m really sorry.”
Kate was disappointed, but she only said, “That’s okay. I’ve got a lot of work I want to get done anyway. Maybe I’ll skip this one.”
“You can’t skip it!” said Laura. “I’ll feel awful. You want to do alltwelve dates, don’t you? This could bethe one! And besides, you’ve paid enough for it, you ought to get your money’s worth.”
Laura was right, she really ought to make the most of it since she was paying through the nose for it, and honestly, it got her out of the house.
Her relationship with Dan had been full on. Dan was an adrenaline junkie; every moment they weren’t working was spent abseiling or kayaking or hiking or rock climbing. It was never quiet. Exciting but exhausting. And since they’d split up, Kate had found herself reveling in the calm of her life. But she had been reaching the point where she’d quite happily become a hermit.
Laura—ever determined once she had an idea in her head—had drawn Mac into her scheme to get Kate signed up for the Twelve Dates of Christmas:
“There’s nothing wrong with staying in, if it makes you happy,” said her dad. “But you’re hiding. And that’s not the same thing at all.”
He was right. She had been hiding. Because it was easier to hide away and never meet anybody than to potentially meet someone only to have it fail again.
Dan had been great. They had fun. The sex was good. They’d just run their course and that was that. Kate wanted children and Dan didn’t. Neither one had deceived the other; they’d known where they stood from the start, though each of them had hoped the other would come around to their way of thinking.
Kate was philosophical about it. Dan had been the only serious contender for her heart in a long time, but even with him she hadn’t really felt invested. And when, as she’d known it would, their relationship had fizzled out, she was aware that she wasn’t as heartbroken as she probably ought to have been.
As for the rest of the flings she’d had over the last few years, they had been just that, flings: fun and frivolous but by no means life partner material.
If she did eventually want a family, she would need to either be more discriminating or sign up for IVF; she didn’t mind which. She could more than capably raise a child alone. She would do this one thing to prove to everyone that she’d tried, and then she would go it alone.
Laura’s pleading voice broke her reverie.
“Please say you’ll still go,” said Laura. “I’ll feel terrible if you miss it. And Ben will too; I’ll make sure of it.”
