The Little Christmas Kitchen (32 page)

‘You don’t know what it would achieve?’ he said, smirking, ‘What the hell do you want it to achieve? It doesn’t have to achieve anything. It’s Christmas for god’s sake, it’s raining, it’s a nice view, I like you.’

‘You do?’

‘Oh Jesus. I’ve told you that already.’

Ella looked down at the big cuffs of her mac, the yellow plastic iridescent in the moonlight, not one of her polaroid outfits but her granddad’s fishing coat with her sparkly kaftan just poking out underneath. ‘I didn’t really think you meant it.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Ok that aside. Let’s talk about this achieving thing.’

She folded her arms across her chest, the yellow plastic squeaking as she moved. ‘It would just make it more painful to go home.’

‘So don’t go home.’ Dimitri shrugged. The shadows of the branches danced. The moonlight splintered through the leaves, catching on spider’s webs spun in the grooves of the tree bark.

‘Oh don’t be ridiculous.’ Ella snorted.

‘I’m not.’ he said. ‘What have you got to go home to? Here you have your mum, you have your family, you have the bloody sun three quarters of the year, you’re less stressed, you seem much happier and well–’

‘What?’ she stood, eyebrows raised like he was talking nonsense, arms crossed tight.

‘Well
I’m
here.’

Ella shook her head. ‘Dimitri, you don’t want me to stay here for you. It would be weird.’

‘No.’ He took another step away from her. The branches creaked and groaned in the wind, the waves smashed below them and the rain trickled down their faces and sploshed in heavy drops to the floor. ‘No I want you to stay here for you. I would just have been a bonus.’

Ella watched him retreat through the shadows of the trees, back towards the path. She glanced behind her at the lemon trees with their sparkling, glowworm lights, the vast coal black sea, the clouds like bruises on the horizon. As she turned back a pair of yellow eyes lit up on the path ahead and the white cat came into view, pausing to lick his paw and watch them from the tangled roots of an olive tree. Could she stay? ‘It would feel like I was running away.’

He shrugged a shoulder. ‘It’s not running away if you find out where you fit.’ he said, then smiled – the same neutral, closed, easy smile that she saw him give to tourists – and beckoned her to follow him back to the taverna. The moment was gone. ‘Let’s go. It’s freezing out here.’

CHAPTER 42

MADDY

The first of Maddy’s guests arrived as she was tying the belt on a gold Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress that she’d picked after trying on everything in Ella’s wardrobe. Hair loose, make-up light, St Christopher round her neck, she felt excited but nervous. Nervous no one would come, anxious they wouldn’t like the food, jittery about what she would say to her dad if he turned up on the doorstep after listening to the tape, but most of all worried about how she would feel if he didn’t.

There was a second impatient knock as she started slipping on her shoes and she ended up doing a sort of hop across the living room pulling them on as she went.

‘Hugo!’ She beamed as she threw open the door, buckling up the strap round her ankle. ‘Come in.’

‘Great idea this Maddy. I’ve had a shocking week.’ He stepped inside, handing her a bag with a couple of bottles of flash white wine but keeping tight hold on a six pack of Kronenbourg.

At the same time the front doors of the block crashed open with a bang as Rollo strode into the hallway accompanied by Clarissa, one of his interns and the three girls from the new group, ‘Maddy! Darling. I brought this lot, hope you don’t mind, have to take them everywhere with me at the moment to stop them getting pissed in Bouijis and trying to get off with Prince Harry.’ Rollo ushered his troupe in in front of him and then took a big wicker basket off his intern and said, ‘This is a hamper Sony sent us. Full of luxury stuff, not my kind of thing really. Thought you’d like it. Hi there, I’m Rollo–’ He cut off from talking to Maddy when he saw Hugo. ‘Don’t you play squash at The Hurlingham?’

‘When I get a moment.’ Hugo laughed, mouth already full of
Dolmades
. ‘Great spread, Maddy.’

Maddy felt her shoulders relax as she watched them chatting, hoovering up her food, glugging back the alcohol. She looked around at the decorations – the red and gold lanterns that she’d picked up from a backstreet shop in Chinatown that Ella had noted wasn’t too touristy, bright paper concertinas from the Conran shop that she’d said was her favourite for decorations, the vanilla cinnamon candle from Anthropologie on Regent Street that filled the hallway with the sweet smell of a Christmas sweetshop, pine cones she’d picked up while walking through St James’s Park to see Ella’s secret view of London from a little bridge over the stream and sprigs of red berries from the flower stall outside Liberty that Maddy had bought when she’d popped in to buy a notebook. One exactly the same as Ella had given her, but this one with bright pink edges to the pages, that Maddy would use to start her own list of favourite places. Maybe one day they wouldn’t just be of London and Greece but be filled with secret hideaways and little gems that she might lend to Ella when she needed it.

As Hugo was handing Maddy a glass of champagne, Margery arrived wearing a blue Chinese silk dress and carrying a poinsettia and her half-full bottle of sherry. She beckoned Maddy into the bathroom and whispered, ‘Can you just button this up, it’s a bloody hook and eye and my fingers just won’t do it?’

‘Margery how many outfits have you got that you haven’t been able to do up?’

‘Oh hundreds, Madeline, I’m just getting started.’ Margery laughed.

Stella from upstairs popped in and brought her twin sister with her who was visiting for Christmas. They didn’t stay long, neither of them seeming to want to take up too much space or overstay their welcome. Walter pulled up in a giant cream Rolls Royce dressed in his white suit and shiny shoes.

‘Is that your chauffeur?’ Maddy asked, peering through the hallway doors.

‘Yes.’ Walter nodded without a backward glance.

‘Don’t you think you should invite him in?’

‘Why?’

‘He’ll get cold out there. And it’s Christmas Eve, Walter. For goodness’ sake.’

Walter paused and then turned around to look out at his chauffeur who was reading the paper where he sat at the steering wheel. ‘God maybe I should.’

‘Unbelievable.’ Maddy shook her head.

‘Yes, how miserable I am.’ Walter laughed. ‘Oh I brought you these.’ he said, handing her a box before striding back outside to get his chauffeur.

Maddy untied the string and opening the flaps gasped when she saw inside a complete set of Walter’s books, hardback, first edition. Carefully opening the cover of the first in the series, she saw he’d inscribed it,
To old dreams and new adventures. The door will never be closed for you, Maddy
.

‘Oh Walter, that’s lovely. Thank you.’ she said, tracing the ink with her fingertip.

Walter was coming back in, followed by his chauffeur who actually looked like perhaps he might have been quite looking forward to sitting in the car and reading the paper. ‘Yes, whatever, don’t make too much of it.’ Walter said. ‘Just– Well– Yes– Ok. Martin, go and have something to eat and be jolly.’ He ushered the chauffeur into the flat, ignoring Maddy’s thank yous as best he could.

More people from the apartment block arrived and then at ten-thirty Mack and Betty and the others from the bar appeared. ‘Closed early,’ Mack boomed as he found Maddy in the kitchen where she was desperately piling more food onto serving plates. The canapés were being devoured quicker than she’d thought possible. People were scooping
stifado
out of little paper bowls and someone had polished off the fish leaving behind just a dish of garlic breadcrumbs. ‘Didn’t want to miss this.’ Mack said as he slapped down a bag full of cheap Russian spirits and helped himself to a glass of red from the side table that Maddy had turned into a makeshift bar, ‘Is that Rollo?’ he asked. ‘Christ, what are you doing here old man?’

Betty twisted the cap off the bottle of
Christmas Spirit
that Mack had brought with him and pouring a slug into a glass handed it to Maddy. ‘You look like you might need this.’

‘Thanks.’ Maddy said, gulping down the firewater.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit of a bitch to you.’ Betty said, pouring another glass for herself.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Maddy coughed, the liquid burning her throat.

‘You were just so perky and eager.’

‘Yeah, honestly, don’t worry about it.’ Maddy waved a hand.

But Betty carried on regardless, toying with her tongue stud as she spoke, ‘And so innocent. Like, I couldn’t believe someone could be that naive without it being an act.’

‘You can stop now, Betty, thank you.’

Betty sniggered and then spying Hugo, who was lounging against the French windows, muttered, ‘Blimey, he’s a piece of all right.’ And grabbing the bottle of
Christmas Spirit
, headed his way.

‘Sterling work, Maddy.’ Walter said, sidling up beside her and nabbing a miniature Yorkshire pudding off the plate she was holding.

‘Maddy can I do anything to help?’ Margery appeared on her other side, looking as if she’d polished off a good portion of the sherry.

‘No, I’m fine, honestly. Have you two met?’

Walter stepped forward, ‘No, haven’t had the pleasure, I’m Walter Brown.’

Margery giggled at his outstretched hand and said, ‘And I’m a bit squiffy.’

‘Marvellous.’ Walter squeezed his way past Maddy, pushing her back so he could stand closer to Margery. ‘So what is it that you do Margery?’

Maddy rolled her eyes as she watched him loop his arm around Margery’s waist and with the other hand pluck a glass of champagne from the bar and take a sip.

‘Since I retired–’ Maddy heard Margery say as they swayed together out into the living room. ‘I spend a lot of my time writing letters of complaint.’

‘Margery, you sound exactly like my type of woman.’ Walter drawled.

After Maddy had topped up all the canapés, opened more wine, popped more champagne, she leant with her back against the sink and watched as everyone around her chatted, laughed, drank, some even danced. Outside it was snowing lightly like a pattern of lace in the midnight sky. It couldn’t have gone better.

But no matter how much she tried to enjoy it, Maddy couldn’t forget the fact that her dad hadn’t arrived. Every time the doorbell went her breath caught but it was never him.

The one time she convinced herself it might be him, dashed over to the door when she saw a black cab pulling away in the street, held her breath as she turned the latch, she was surprised to find Ella’s Max standing in the hallway instead.

‘I came to check–’ he started, then peering round the door said, quite astonished, ‘Are you having a party?’

Maddy cringed, ‘Yeah. Sorry! I know this is your flat.’ She held her hand up to her forehead. ‘Sorry.’

‘Absolutely nothing to be sorry about, darling. There’s nothing I adore more than a party.’ Max said, strutting inside. ‘Nice work with the tree.’ he added, before heading over to the makeshift bar.

The last of the guests left at two in the morning. Margery and Walter seemed to have sloped off together much earlier in the evening. Maddy, who was checking outside every ten minutes to see if her dad might be about to ring the bell, had just caught the cream Rolls as it slipped away.

Hugo, Rollo, Max and the girl group were going on to some club somewhere and tried to persuade Maddy to join them but she shook her head. By that stage she had finally admitted that her dad wouldn’t be coming and just wanted to go to bed.

As they kissed her goodbye, thanked her for the party, told her to look them up next time she was in London and wished her a Merry Christmas, Rollo suddenly turned back and said, ‘Oh Maddy, sorry I forgot, Ed said to tell you he’s coming in on the red eye. Had a business meeting yesterday in New York. Wanted you to go to his tomorrow. Don’t know why he didn’t text you himself, but–’

‘Because he doesn’t know my number.’ Maddy said slowly.

‘That’d be why.’ Rollo laughed.

‘He’s been in New York?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, I think it was just for a day, sorting some shit that had hit the fan with one of his acts.’

‘So he hasn’t been in his office?’

‘Not the London one.’

‘And he wants me to go tomorrow? For Christmas?’

‘Maddy, I can’t keep repeating myself. I’m hammered. I can barely see you. I have to either keep drinking or pass out, there can be none of this in-between stage. Ok? Go to him tomorrow, you’re invited. Blah blah blah. Great party, great food. You know actually, that’s what you should do – keep the singing as a hobby but blimey, I’d pay to eat your cooking.’

‘Really?’ Maddy said, distracted from the thought that her dad hadn’t listened to her tape, hadn’t got her invite or her apology and still he wanted her to go for Christmas Day.

‘Yeah. These–’ Rollo said, leaning forward to nab the last mini spinach pie, ‘… these have star quality.’ When he popped the pastry into his mouth she heard the filo crack against his teeth. ‘Amazing. Ok, I’m off. Sure you don’t want to come?’

Maddy shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Your loss.’ Max shouted from the hallway, and they all fumbled out into the snow and the waiting taxi.

The news about her dad created such a flutter of excitement in Maddy’s tummy that she couldn’t go straight to bed. Instead she cleaned up, loaded the dishwasher, thought back over the evening and without the cloud of worry about her dad, took a moment to enjoy the memories, wondered what Walter and Margery were getting up to and then decided she didn’t want to know. Opening the French windows she pulled over a chair and sat looking out at the snow-covered patio with a shot of
Christmas Spirit
and the remains of the bowl of
stifado
. Spooning the stew into her mouth, savouring the flavour, she wondered if Rollo was right, maybe this was another path? Her cooking another possible dream?

As she was picturing her name in lights above a chic little restaurant a male voice pulled her out of her reverie. ‘Hey.’