Page 75 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“So, did you hear from either of them yet?” Laura asked.
“Both,” said Kate, grinning sheepishly.
“Oh my God,” said Laura.
“Richard sent me flowers this morning,” said Kate.
Laura clutched her hand to her heart and sucked in her breath.
“They’re beautiful,” Kate went on. “All winter blooms and Christmas foliage; he’s really thought about it.”
“Wow,” said Laura in a dreamy voice. “Ben only buys me flowers when they’ve been marked down at the garage, or if he wants me to partake of some sexual deviance.”
Kate pulled a face.
“But sadly, even that’s not as often as it used to be,” said Laura wistfully.
“Anyway,” said Kate. “On the card in the flowers, it said:Be ready at your gate for 9.30pm. I’m taking you out for a hot toddy. Wear layers.”
“Oh my God,” said Laura. “How are you still upright? I feel dizzy just hearing about it.”
“And,” Kate went on, “Phil and I have been texting back and forth quite a bit. He’s hilarious, you’ll love him, oh and he called me last night to arrange a date after Christmas.”
“Blimey,” said Laura. “They’re like buses!”
Kate laughed. Charley shouted “BUS!” and slapped his hands on his highchair table, flicking banana in Laura’s hair.
Ben’s office had closed down for Christmas and he’d taken Mina out for a father-daughter breakfast at the Pear Tree, where they drank babyccinos and read princess magazines together.
“I popped into the café yesterday,” said Laura. “Had one of your mince pies. You can tell which ones are yours,” she said. “Matt’s are somewhat rustic-looking. He said you had a love bite that you were trying to pass off as an accident.”
“That man gossips like an old woman,” said Kate.
“Are you doing the gingerbread house date at the manor?” Laura asked.
“Yes,” Kate replied. “But first I’ve got that dinner date, tomorrow night, near Leicester Square. I’m going in to the office for a few hours during the day and then I’ll head over. In fact, I’d better get off, I’ve got to be at the Pear Tree for half ten to help out with Petula’s craftmorning and then go home and do some work, and then go on a hot-toddy date.”
“You are racking those men up,” said Laura.
“It was a bit of a slow start,” said Kate. “But it’s certainly picking up speed now.”
“Did you get your car back yet?” Laura asked.
“Patrick’s bringing it back on the tow truck tomorrow,” said Kate. “Poor old girl, she’ll never make it up the hill in this.”
•••••
Kate left Laura’s armed with a bag full of bay tree leaves freshly pinched from her garden and some dark green ivy she’d pulled from the back fence.
The roads were clear down in Great Blexley, but Blexford was still a winter wonderland. Most people were using being cut off by the hill as an excuse to start their Christmas holidays early. Parents pulled toddlers along on sledges, which doubled as handy shopping trolleys, and men whose summer rituals consisted of charring meat over hot coals now indulged their winter customs by lagging pipes and setting up Christmas laser-light projectors in their front gardens.
The Pear Tree was buzzing with activity, not least because of the three tables taken up at the back by Petula’s crafters. Ben and Mina waved from the easy chairs; Ben was readingNational Geographicand Mina was deeply involved in sticking unicorn stickers on her tights. Mina was sporting a chocolate Musketeer beard and mustache, which was transferring to her pink jumper from her chin in scuffs of brown that Kate felt sure Laura would disapprove of.
“Hello, stranger!” called Matt. “What strength coffee can I get you this fine morning? Rocket fuel or nuclear?”
“Nuclear, please,” said Kate.
Matt was happiest when he was ridiculously busy; something about bedlam brought him out in deep joy.
