Snow Angels, Secrets and Christmas Cake (18 page)

I
felt
terrible - like I’d destroyed everything Sam had worked for and it was now up to me to give my sister back her dream. But with no ovens and no money there was little I could do – yet I couldn’t bring myself to call our customers and cancel their orders. Something inside was telling me not to close the door on The White Angel Bakery’ yet and I was damned if I was going to throw it all away without at least trying to resurrect something. Sam seemed to lack the energy and drive to even engage in a conversation about starting again and I was worried the depression she’d had after Steve was returning. She was permanently pale and tired and I was worried about her, but being Sam she just carried on saying she was fine.

I had a plan - made some calls and arranged to meet Heddon, Hall and Gabe at a nearby cafe for breakfast, and once I had my team assembled I made my announcement.

‘I want to re-open the bakery before Christmas. I intend to honour the orders, re-open the bakery and restore my sister’s faith in me – and herself,’ I added.

‘Absolutely, mon chérie,’ Hall said. ‘But aren’t we being a soupcon ambitious, after all, my love... you don’t have long and the bakery is a blackened shell.’

‘No we don’t have long,’ I sighed. ‘We need to act immediately, which is where you guys, “Tamsin’s Angels” come in.’

Heddon giggled and they all looked at me, Gabe even put his knife and fork down for a second. He took a long drink of orange juice and his lips were wet. I had to avert my eyes.

‘I want to clean up and transform the bakery – using all the Christmas stuff at my house we can recreate the winter wonderland I was planning for The Rectory – in the bakery,’ I said.

‘Do you mean a makeover like on the telly? Covering Sam’s eyes and saying “you can open them now”,’ Gabe asked.

‘No,’ I said. ‘The last thing my sister needs is some MDF-constructed nightmare and bloody Alan Titchmarsh appearing from behind the hedge, shouting “I bet you didn’t expect me to pop up from your petunias did you?”’

‘No class, darling,’ Heddon and Hall nodded in agreement.

The boys were only too willing to help and Heddon and Hall wrote me a cheque there and then for a loan to buy a new oven. I wept with gratitude and we arranged for them all to turn up the following morning and start work.

Gabe dropped me home in his truck and I mentioned that I had been invited to Mimi’s party that evening.

‘Are you going? You know Mimi, don’t you?’ I asked, provocatively.

‘Yeah I know Mimi – I did her trellis.’

‘Mmm, so I heard. I wonder if you’d care to be my plus one?’ I heard myself ask.

‘Yeah... I’ll come along,’ he said. ‘Pick you up about 8?’

So, not only was I going to Mimi’s party, I was taking a ‘plus one’. I felt nervous and excited and happy all at the same time. If I was going to move forward and move on from my life with Simon, an evening with Gabe would certainly be a push in the right direction. I was beginning to feel like the old Tamsin, but this time I was stronger and more independent, not relying on my husband for money or feelings of self-worth.

‘I’ll see you later,’ I said, kissing him on the cheek. I couldn’t wait.

T
amsin had decided
to take up Mimi’s party invite. And being Tamsin she couldn’t just get dressed and go – there would be hours of ‘hair and make-up’ and parades of various gowns plundered from the bin bags lying around the flat.

‘My hairdresser Debbie is coming over – she says since I’ve spent thousands with her over the years she’ll do it gratis until I get myself together,’ she said, pouting into a hand mirror.

I was pleased for Tamsin. She was finally getting her life back, albeit quite a different one. It was little things like getting her hair done for a party that mattered to her and a good looking guy as her escort was just the boost she needed.

‘Oh by the way,’ she called from the bathroom. ‘Debbie said she’ll do yours ... and Jacob’s hair too, if you would both like a trim?’

Mmmm. She’d said this when she was out of the room, because Jacob’s hair was a touchy subject. I wish she’d leave things alone and stop bloody interfering, I thought. Debbie the hairdresser wasn’t just about Mimi’s party hair – she was about Tamsin trying to get her own way – again. ‘No, thank you,’ I called, but she’d gone, or was pretending she hadn’t heard me. I knew my sister, and if I didn’t address this she’d carry on and have us both with a short back and sides by this time tomorrow night, so I went to the bathroom. I could hear the taps running – she was washing her hair in preparation for Debbie – and I just went straight in.

‘Oh you shouldn’t just walk in on someone’s bathroom...’ she started.

‘No and you shouldn’t just walk in on someone’s life,’ I replied. ‘I know what you’re up to – you think you can turn Jacob into Little Lord Fauntleroy while nobody’s looking. You think you can convince him to have his hair cut while I’m busy downstairs and before we know it he’s looking like something from the bloody 1940s. Why don’t you take him to church while you’re at it? That’s something else I don’t want him to do – religion – but obviously I’m only his mother – as his auntie you have the final say.’

‘No I don’t.’

‘No. You don’t, Tamsin... so why are you trying to get your own way? We have had this conversation – he DOESN’T WANT his hair cutting. He loves it long, like his dad used to wear it.’

She was shaking her head in a very annoying ‘know-it-all’ way I thought she’d dropped.

‘He wants his hair short like the other boys. He’s fed up of being called a girl and gay and...’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being gay...’

‘I’m not saying there is, and there’s nothing wrong with being different... but I told you before, at his age he doesn’t
want
to be different.’

‘Are you trying to tell me you know my son better than I do?’ I was so angry now. ‘Let’s ask him shall we, Tamsin? You aren’t listening to me, so perhaps you’ll listen to Jacob when he tells you he is happy with his hair long,’ I shouted, going into the living room to find my son.

‘Jacob, Jacob, auntie Tam and I want to ask you something,’ I called, trying to fade the volume and aggression from my voice, but not succeeding. I found him watching TV, apparently oblivious to the drama unfolding around him. ‘Jacob – would you like a lady to come here and cut all your hair off,’ I asked, trying to make it sound as bad as possible. I waited for the complete and total rejection of this ridiculous idea, followed by my absolute final warning to Tamsin about keeping out of our lives. But to my deep disappointment, his little face lit up.

‘Can the lady give me hair like Toby?’

‘What’s Toby’s like?’ I asked, knowing he had never heard of them but willing him to say ‘Bon Jovi circa 1973’. But of course the answer he gave me was ‘short’.

He must have seen my face drop and looked at me like he was trying to figure things out.

‘Mum... if Daddy sees, will he be upset if I have my hair cut?’

His question ripped at my heart.

‘Oh sweetie no – of course he won’t. He’ll be happy if you’re happy, darling.’

He smiled, satisfied with that, then looked at me again this time with worry in his eyes. ‘Mummy, will
you
cry?’

I reassured him again. I felt like a terrible mother – Tamsin had been right and I hadn’t even seen it. I’d been letting Jacob struggle and get picked on – I’d been projecting my own feelings of loss onto Jacob without even realising. Jacob was so young when Steve died he’d only seen him in photos and wouldn’t remember his Dad’s hair.

‘Okay sweetie – let’s get the lady to cut your hair then?’

‘Yay,’ he said and clapped his pudgy little hands together.

I walked onto the landing and banged on the door. ‘I guess you know my son better than I do,’ I said loudly and stomped downstairs, wondering if, at 36, it was perhaps time to get my own long hair cut when Debbie arrived.

A little later Tamsin came down with her hair in a towel turban, full lipstick on tight lips and an obstinate swish in her walk. Joan Crawford couldn’t have done a better entrance.

‘I won’t ask Debbie to cut his hair if you don’t want it doing,’ she said, tentatively. I was surprised at this, she usually railroaded over me – perhaps this life change had taught her some tact?

‘It’s fine. You’re right, it’s what he wants. It was me who wanted him to keep it long – like his dad. He can be “different” when he’s older... if that’s what he wants.’

‘And if he doesn’t you can make him be “different”,’ she giggled. ‘That’s a joke,’ she added.

‘I get it – you controlling bitch... that’s a joke too,’ I grimaced.

I’d always been keen to point out how bossy and controlling Tamsin was – and there was me trying to keep my son’s hair long, because I wanted it like that. Perhaps the Angel sisters weren’t that different after all?

O
nce Debbie had given
us all a trim – yes I succumbed to Debbie’s scissors too – Jacob seemed to light up. He loved his new hair and couldn’t wait to go to school on Monday and show his friends.

I watched Jacob admiring his new cut in the mirror; ‘Please don’t say ‘I told you so,’ I murmured to Tamsin.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she sighed, studying her fake, wine-coloured nails studded with ‘an occasional diamond’, as she put it. She couldn’t afford a manicurist and had spent all afternoon doing them herself.

‘It’s as well we don’t have a business, because I’d have been serving on my own all day today, while you breakfasted with friends and did your nails,’ I said. ‘And you certainly couldn’t bake with those on... do they come off?’ I asked.

‘For God’s sake, Sam, that’s like asking “does your leg come off?” Of course they don’t, they might be fake but they’re glued fast. Have you never worn fake nails?’

‘No... why would I? That’s like asking me if I’ve ever worn a fake leg, I have my own.’

She rolled her eyes and flounced off to get dressed. I could tell she was excited – but she was nervous too. Tonight she’d be stepping back into her old life for a guest appearance and I wondered if she was ready.

‘I’m taking Gabe,’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘I want us to be the stylish and surprise couple at the party. Fasten your seatbelts it’s going to be a bumpy night,’ she hissed, in her best Bette Davis. I just hoped Mimi had the stairs to justify her entrance.

Earlier, Heddon and Hall had arrived in a flurry of white sparkle and cashmere and deposited the whole of Tamsin’s lost Christmas in the back of the shop. I was climbing over bin bags in my bedroom and a life-size reindeer on the landing (I told her we didn’t have the room but she’d conveniently forgotten).

‘There’s nowhere else to put everything,’ she’d said as Debbie tugged hard at her shiny black bob. I’d reminded her that in January we had to leave. ‘If you bring any more stuff into this tiny flat I will invite Channel 4 to make a documentary about it, “My sister the hoarder”.’

‘Yes, my love,’ she said, ‘after Channel 5 have made “My sister the bar room dancer”,’ she smiled sweetly. I wasn’t going to live that one down.

Leaving me to live with her Christmas carnage was so typical of Tamsin. She was used to having people to tidy up and finish off, and after I waved her off I sat amid the white snowflakes and reindeers piled up in the corner feeling alone.

Seeing Gabe collect Tamsin and tell her she looked gorgeous then watching them go off arm in arm had been a painful reminder of Richard’s absence. I imagined him at home with Carole, mistletoe hanging, eyes meeting, rediscovering each other after and falling in love all over again after their time apart. It was my own fault – I left it too late and he wasn’t hanging around for Miss No Commitment. I made a cup of tea, watched X Factor, had a little cry and felt slightly better.

L
ater I wandered
down to the ruins of my business and looked out of the window onto the square. It was dark, just a few fairy lights in the trees and the scattering of confetti-like snow coming down again, it was relentless this year. I gazed for a long time at the white landscape outside, the snow getting deeper, another layer of the white blanket of silence descending over everything. So much had happened recently I could barely take it in and having lost my business and the man I loved my heart felt almost too heavy to carry. I hoped Tamsin would enjoy herself at the party – perhaps if my sister got her life back on track it would be good for both of us. I’d realised since she came to live with me that our lives were entwined and if she wasn’t happy, then neither was I – and I knew it was the same for her. I went back upstairs to check on Jacob, hoping the Angel sisters would one day be able to find happiness at the same time.

M
imi’s party was amazing
. Gabe drove us there and we arrived to the kind of sparkly Christmas event I would have been proud to stage. Of course, I wouldn’t have gone with the colour scheme, which was a dodgy purple, but apart from that I had to give it to Mimi – she could host a party.

I climbed from the truck and walked with Gabe down the winter pathway which led to the main front steps. As we walked together in silence, hearing only the sound of Herald Angels, I turned and looked at him.

‘I’m a bit nervous, Gabe,’ I confessed.

He stopped in the darkness, a halo of fairy lights all around him and he took my breath away. He looked like an angel with his mid-length hair and piercing blue eyes and his smile was beatific – I reached out and touched him to see if he was real and for a moment our eyes locked. Then he took my hand, kissed it gently, and led me up the garden path to Mimi’s Musical Extravaganza.

Once inside, my heart leapt at the sight of the magnificent tree. Forest green pine dressed in vibrant, shiny purple stood proud in the centre of the room (though I would probably have put it in the hallway – a little brash to have the tree in the living quarters). The staircase swept forever, a huge swirling mass of every shade of purple from deepest violet to the lightest lavender swirled around the banisters and swept into the room with the stairs. Magical!

Mimi greeted us excitedly – dressed in a figure-hugging glitzy purple number many would have avoided with her ginger hair and skin tone, but she rocked it.

‘Oh Tamsin, how good of you to come – you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,’ she beamed. She seemed genuinely delighted to have me there, and when I peered round to see if Anouska or Phaedra had arrived, she seemed to know what I was thinking.

‘They aren’t coming,’ she said. ‘They never do. None of the ladies from Chantray Lane ever come to my parties or coffee mornings. That’s why I’m so touched you did.’ Her effervescence seemed to disappear momentarily and she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

‘Mimi... I’m touched you invited me,’ I said giving her a warm hug. Mimi and Gabe nodded hello, but neither seemed interested in the other and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Funny how I’d become so territorial about Gabe, it wasn’t like we were in a relationship, but I didn’t want any other women getting their claws into him.

Gabe went off to get us some drinks and I asked Mimi if she’d heard anything about Phaedra or Anouska. ‘What have those girls been up to?’ I asked, ‘I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to call either of them... has Anouska had her kitchen done yet?’

She seemed immediately uncomfortable; ‘Let’s not talk about her – she’s really not worth it.’

I was surprised at this reaction – perhaps Anouska’s kitchen was amazing and Mimi was jealous? Oh, the relief at not living in their world any more, I thought, as Mimi showed me round her beautiful home. I waited for that stabbing pain of envy and loss to hit me in the stomach as she took me from one exquisite room to another and then paraded her Chanel handbags and her stunning shoes on the pure silk bedspread. But I felt nothing but pleased for her, I wasn’t judging Mimi – if that’s what got her through the day then good for her. But it wasn’t for me – not anymore.

Why hadn’t I seen this before? Mimi was, a genuine, loyal friend who just wanted to be one of the gang. I’m ashamed to say I was one of the gang who’d excluded her from everything and been so blinded by my pre-judgment of Mimi I hadn’t seen the lovely woman she was. Ten years younger, a few pounds lighter and a hell of a lot prettier than me and the other Wives, I realised it wasn’t just the lap dancing we disapproved of. Without Phaedra’s bitchy whispers and Anouska’s back-handed compliments about her were based on nothing but pure jealousy.

The champagne flowed, the canapés were stunning and the music... the choir, the singing was just amazing. I sat with Gabe on a huge chunky sofa and we drank champagne and talked like it was the first time we’d met. It felt like I’d never even seen this handsome, well-dressed man at my side. He was so attentive, so interested in me and made me feel like the most important person in the room – something my husband had never done. After the choir, things kicked back a little, and a floor appeared from nowhere, with little lights around it. A DJ had seamlessly appeared behind two decks and was providing the kind of sounds you just had to dance to; ‘Do They Know it’s Christmas?’ Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ and all the mad, bad and sad seasonal songs in between.

As the music played I sat close to Gabe, which caused my pulse to quicken, I hadn’t felt like this for many years – if ever.

‘Shall we?’ he whispered in my ear. I wasn’t quite sure what he was asking, but I nodded and walked on to the dance floor (in what I hoped was a sensual way) where he joined me. He was so sexy, so laid-back, nothing and no-one seemed to bother him … and so very easy on the eye. He took my hand and electricity sparked so brightly I was sure everyone felt the sparks fizzing. We danced opposite each other, our bodies close but not touching. Our eyes were locked and I had this uncontrollable urge to touch him, to run my hands through his hair and hold his beautiful face in my hands. I’d never seen him in this way before – it was like he’d been touched by magic, his rough edges smoothed down, his smile sexier, his eyes bluer. The music slowed and we moved closer, his arms now round my waist, mine on his shoulders and my face in his neck. I breathed in his smell – no Monster Munch or musk tonight – he smelled of burnt candles, cedar wood and cinnamon, so delicious I wanted to lick his neck like a cat. I stopped myself, but after a few more minutes of close dancing I couldn’t take any more – I wanted him and I knew he wanted me.

‘Do you want to leave?’ his voice was husky in my ear, his lips warm on my flesh and I melted on the dance floor.

I couldn’t speak, but my body language must have said it all, and within minutes we’d left the warmth and noise of the house and were running through the snow still holding hands.

‘Where are we going?’ I panted as we tripped through the whiteness, my heart was in my mouth. ‘I can’t run in these shoes...’

‘You know what happens when you wear silly shoes,’ he said, grappling me to the ground, making a grab for my shoes to try and take them off while I squealed like a girl.

‘It’s okay I can walk, I can walk,' I shouted through laughter. ‘Not the shoes... not the shoes...’ I screamed as the first scarlet-soled Louboutin flew through the air, quickly followed by the second. I screamed in mock horror, but I didn’t care – the shoes were beautiful but they didn’t work in my new life.

‘What do I do now? I can’t walk in bare feet,’ I protested through giggles. And he swept me up. Just like that, he lifted me into his arms and strode through Mimi’s landscaped acreage like Hercules. I clung to him, my red silk dress damp with snow, my arms bare, my feet shoeless... but I didn’t feel the cold. And when we finally arrived at a shed, he carefully put me down, fiddled with the lock and used his shoulder to push the door open. He pulled me into the pitch black interior, pushing me gently against the wooden wall and lifting up the scarlet silk. I was naked underneath – I wanted a smooth silhouette, but no underwear had other advantages that night, and as the damp wood held my back, he lifted my legs around his waist. His lips were on my mouth, my neck, his hands were everywhere and we just kept going on and on and on. I was in a trance, I’d never felt such overpowering feelings of lust before and when he finally released himself gently, I was weak, exhausted and happy.

We half sat, half lay against the wall of the shed. My eyes had become accustomed to the lack of light and I could make out garden forks, plant pots and huge bags of compost leaning against the wall. The smell of soil and damp wood filled my nostrils and I suddenly felt cold and felt for him with my hands, running my fingers through his hair. Instinctively, he took off his jacket and put it around me, just like they did in the films, and I felt beautiful, loved. Neither of us spoke – words would have seemed clumsy and inarticulate after what we’d just experienced and despite the most wonderful Christmas party going on in the £3m house, I just wanted to stay there forever in that damp old shed with him. How things had changed.

After a while we had to move, it was very cold, so he carried me back through the snow to his truck. He was tender and gentle and sat me on the front seat like I was a piece of porcelain. Turning on the heater in the cab, he asked if I was warm enough, I nodded and smiled.

Gabe drove slowly through the whiteness, more snow was coming down and we could only see a few feet in front of us. The heater was blasting, the windscreen wipers were squeaking and John Lennon was singing ‘and so this is Christmas and what have you done?’ on the radio. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I had never, ever, had sex in a shed before, it just wasn’t like me to lose control like that... this man had such an effect on me.

I felt so young and beautiful that night. The blood was coursing through my veins and I was filled with an energy and excitement I’d never known before. Gabe was amazing, and being with him just made me sparkle, but I had to keep reminding myself I mustn’t get too carried away. I was just another bored wife to Gabe and I told myself I mustn’t lose sight of that and believe it was anything more than wonderful sex. It had disoriented me, making me realise I’d never had real passion in my life – not like I had tonight, with him.

Who was I? Had I lost myself? Or found myself? It was as though the map of my life had been mislaid, my journey suspended, my compass buried in the snow. Along with my Louboutins.