Lizzie's Christmas Escape Read online

  Abbie, on the other hand, was a different kettle of fish. She was very secretive about her love life. Over time I’d learnt not to pry, as she always became very short-tempered with me. Henry says that our personalities clash because we’re so similar and are both very headstrong women. Abbie was staying down in her digs for another week. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but knowing Abbie there would be a fair few Christmas parties to attend with her friends before she returned home.

  Pulling my apron over my head, I grabbed my mixing bowl and sieve. Thanks to The Great British Bake Off I’d been inspired this year to make my own delicious treats – and on today’s menu were mince pies.

  I lifted my hair off my neck, twisted it up into a bun and secured it with a bobble. After washing my hands and switching the oven dial to 200ºC, I measured out all the ingredients. At the very moment I began to rub the flour and butter together with my fingers, the doorbell sounded.

  ‘Damn, what a flipping nuisance,’ I muttered.

  Standing on my tiptoes, straining to look out of the kitchen window, I spotted Ann standing outside.

  ‘Come on in, the door is open,’ I shouted. ‘I’m in the kitchen.’

  ‘Brrr, it’s bitter out there,’ Ann shouted cheerfully. I heard her kick off her boots, which landed with a thud in the hallway, and felt the cold air brush against my legs.

  ‘Hurry up and shut that front door, Ann – it’s freezing!’

  I heard it slam and she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. I looked up and smiled. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips pink. She slipped off her coat and hung it on the back of the kitchen chair before laying a white paper bag on the kitchen table. She came and stood behind me and nodded out the kitchen window in the direction of the house opposite.

  ‘Have you seen that monstrosity over the road?’ she asked. ‘Who would even dream of placing such a large inflatable Santa in their front garden?’

  ‘Actually, I’m going to inflate ours later so they can wave across the road to each other.’

  Ann looked at me wide-eyed. ‘Please tell me you’re joking?’

  ‘Of course I’m joking! Can you imagine Henry’s face if he returned from work to find a six-foot Santa waving at him? He’s bah humbug about Christmas at the best of times!’

  ‘That’s what I thought!’

  ‘Believe me, it’s not worth the hassle. I’ll just stick to my usual twinkly lights outside the house like I’ve done for the past twenty-odd years.’

  While Ann was talking I carried on baking, scooping the mincemeat into a bowl then adding the satsumas, apple and zest.

  ‘Good gracious, what are you doing?’ Ann asked.

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ I harrumphed.

  ‘At a guess, baking mince pies.’

  ‘No shit, Sherlock!’

  ‘Why? When the local supermarket does that for you?’ She laughed. ‘It seems like too much hassle to me.’

  I tutted at her. ‘Everything always seems like too much hassle for you.’

  ‘You’ll be posting videos on YouTube next,’ she teased, ‘and before we know it you’ll have millions of views and instant fame all over the world.’

  I laughed, shaking my head at her. ‘Go and do something useful and pop that kettle on – I’m parched.’

  After flicking on the kettle, Ann opened the cupboard door and clattered about inside, searching for plates.

  ‘I’ve bought you a vanilla slice. After all, it is Tuesday.’

  ‘What’s your excuse for every other day of the week?’

  ‘It’s Christmas!’

  We both laughed.

  ‘Why aren’t you at work?’ I asked, suddenly realising it was a weekday.

  ‘The joys of snow! The school is closed – perks of being a teacher. So I thought I’d visit my best friend, even though I took my life in my hands trudging along the high street in the snow.’

  ‘Why, because of the icy pavements? The council are usually quite good with their gritting.’

  ‘Not quite. The pavements were fully gritted, but Jake Turner thought it would be amusing to pelt snowballs at me as I passed him and the rest of the crew from class five. They’re already out and about, enjoying their day off school.’

  ‘Perks of being a teacher,’ I said and laughed, mimicking Ann.

  After all the ingredients were mixed together and I rolled the pastry, I washed my hands and sat down opposite Ann at the kitchen table. She slid a plate containing one very large vanilla slice over towards me.

  As I clamped down on the white iced puff pastry, the custard oozed from the bottom.

  ‘Mmmm delicious. That’s just what I needed – a sweet sugar rush! I already think it’s nearly dinner time I’ve been up since such a ridiculous time.’

  ‘Are you having trouble sleeping?’

  I sighed, hugging my mug of tea.

  ‘Last night I lay awake for hours, and when I finally got to sleep the alarm woke me up what seemed only moments later.’

  ‘What’s on your mind?’ Ann asked, taking a sip of her tea.

  ‘Life – life in general. Oh, I don’t know. Gary in the pantry seems to think I’m in the middle of a midlife crisis.’

  Ann smiled. ‘Are you still bending his ear? Why does he think you’re in the middle of a midlife crisis?’

  I paused for a second. ‘It’s nothing really. Well it’s just that…’

  ‘Go on.’ Ann detected the sadness in my voice and squeezed my hand.

  ‘I’m feeling a little sad. My head is all over the place at the moment. It’s Henry. I’m trying to pinpoint the actual moment when it all went wrong.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Believe me, I know it can’t be roses around the door all the time, but when Henry and I first met we lived life to the full, we danced at discos until the early hours, we ate at fancy restaurants and didn’t think twice about booking a spontaneous weekend away. Even when we’d had the girls, our parents would look after them at the drop of a hat – it was never a problem. We were the solid couple. Henry was handsome, funny and ambitious. He would only have to walk into a room and it would light up. He was confident, looked after me and made me feel safe. These were the very reasons I fell in love with him.’ I sighed.

  ‘And now?’

  ‘And now times have changed. I can’t remember the last time we had a proper conversation, and I certainly can’t recall the last time he held me in his arms and I felt the warmth of his skin on mine. I don’t even remember the last time he told me he loved me.

  ‘I’m not even sure whether it’s been a gradual thing or whether I’ve fallen out of love with Henry overnight. We live like friends – and sometimes not even good friends. If I’m honest, at times I feel like walking out, but one thing’s for certain – in the early hours of this morning, at 3 a.m. to be precise, I decided I can’t face another year of this mundane routine.’

  Ann’s mouth fell open. ‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ she said, very startled by my sudden outburst.

  ‘I’m not sure I was either. The alarm went off at 6 a.m. as usual, and after I dragged my weary body out of bed and made him a cuppa, I glanced out of the window to see if the snow was still falling. I giggled when Marcus pretended to throw a snowball at the bedroom window. I’ve not giggled for years, but the moment was lost when I found Henry standing behind me muttering away in his usual grumpy way. He just isn’t any fun anymore. We just seem to circle each other in the same house and are complete strangers. I want my old Henry back.’

  ‘Hang on a minute. Who’s Marcus?’ Ann asked, clearly intrigued.

  I pressed my lips together, trying not to let my smile escape.

  She pointed a finger. ‘I know that look, Lizzie Stevens. What gossip do you have to tell me? Who is Marcus?’

  I laughed.

  ‘Are you having an affair?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Most definitely not. My days of undressing in front of a new man and letting all my lumps and bumps hang free are well and truly over – and never mind the stretch marks!’

  ‘Life experience is what those lumps and bumps are. They all tell a story; they’re a part of who you are,’ Ann offered with a smile.

  ‘Those lumps and bumps have nothing to do with life experience and more to do with eating one too many cream cakes – not forgetting the copious amount of wine I drink most evenings, all empty calories in abundance!’

  ‘But tasty calories,’ Ann replied, sinking her teeth into her vanilla slice and trying to catch the custard as it catapulted onto the plate.

  We both laughed.

  ‘Marcus Bowman is my new neighbour. He’s moved into the Baldwins’ old house.’

  ‘Is he married?’

  ‘I don’t know. I never asked him!’

  ‘Wedding ring?’ Ann raised her eyebrows at me.

  ‘No, he wasn’t wearing one.’

  ‘Aha, so you did look then!’

  ‘I might have,’ I replied, feeling myself blush.

  ‘There’s no might about it!’

  Ann started laughing. ‘It’s a midlife crisis, that’s what’s up with you, just minus the fast car and the dodgy tattoo – well, for now anyway. So the question remains: are you interested in your new neighbour?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. How can I be? I’m married.’

  ‘Well it doesn’t stop some people.’

  ‘Thank God we aren’t just some people, then,’ I said, licking the sticky icing from my fingers and flicking a grin at her.

  Ann banged her mug on the table decisively. ‘You know what we need, don’t you?’

  ‘What?’ I asked, amused.

  ‘We need a night out!’ Ann’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  ‘We have a night out each week at bingo.’

  ‘I’m suggesting a proper night out, and as it’s now the first of December and officially Christmas, I think a tipple or two at the Christmas markets is a must.’

  ‘Your tipple or two always means falling down stinking drunk and flirting with every species of man possible.’

  ‘Ha ha usually, but you wouldn’t have it any other way! Saturday night then? Will Henry mind?’

  ‘No, Henry won’t mind. I’m not even sure he’ll notice. Agreed. Saturday night it is then. It’s about time I had some fun!’ I answered.

  4

  It was Thursday afternoon and for the last twenty-four hours Marcus Bowman had been the only thing on my mind. I wasn’t sure why, because I hadn’t set eyes on him since the early hours of Tuesday morning, when he’d been larking about in the snow. However that hadn’t stopped me hovering at the kitchen window, trying to spot him at every opportunity. Just before lunch I’d managed to have a quick phone call with Freya. I was beginning to worry about her. During our recent conversations she hadn’t sounded her usual happy self, but she assured me everything was fine. Hearing the word ‘fine’ automatically makes me worry. It’s one of those words that people use when they’re avoiding telling you something. She’d just finished her final lecture, and this evening she was jumping on a train to Chester with Peter to stay with his parents. I was really looking forward to seeing the girls and having them home. I missed them immensely.

  After I’d eaten lunch, Marcus was still very much on my mind. Earlier in the day I’d nipped to the shop and purchased a card and a bottle of wine to welcome him to his new home. For the past hour I’d paced up and down the black-and-white square tiles of the kitchen floor, trying to pluck up the courage to venture over and give him his house-warming gift. I was assuming he was home because his car was parked on the drive.

  Opening the closet, I reached for my coat and hurried my arms into the sleeves. Twizzling my scarf around my neck I placed my feet inside my boots and opened and closed the front door numerous times. By the time I’d taken the plunge and was hovering outside his front door on the slushy pavement, the nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach had exploded into a thousand butterflies.

  I had no idea whether he even liked red wine. ‘Come on, Lizzie, stop behaving like a teenager,’ I muttered to myself, finally lifting my hand and rapping my knuckles on the front door.

  I waited anxiously.

  ‘Hi, Lizzie, how are you?’

  Startled, I spun round. Marcus was standing right behind me. His smile was warm and welcoming. I couldn’t fail to notice that he was hanging on to a lead that was attached to the shaggiest ball of fur I had ever seen.

  ‘Hi, yes, I’m good thanks. And who’s this?’ I asked. I was extremely fond of animals, but we’d never been able to own a pet. Henry had never been keen.

  ‘Lizzie meet Frank, Frank meet Lizzie.’ Marcus smiled broadly.

  ‘Well he is a handsome fellow.’ The dog sniffed my hand, and I bent down and ruffled the shaggy pile of fur of the Old English sheepdog that rocked excitedly from one paw to another beside Marcus.

  ‘He must be a bugger to keep clean in this weather,’ I said, grinning.

  ‘You’re not wrong!’

  ‘Who takes who for a walk?’ I laughed.

  ‘I do my best to hold on to him, but usually I’m just dragged behind!’

  Frank’s tail began to wag and with a sudden woof – and taking us both by surprise – he launched himself straight at me. Firmly grasping hold of the card and the wine, I lifted my arms into the air. Unfortunately for me, Frank must have thought I was playing a game and immediately began bouncing on his hind legs trying to play with them.

  ‘Jeepers, Frank, get down!’ Marcus demanded in a firm, stern voice while pulling back on Frank’s lead. But it was too late – my jeans were covered in slushy brown paw prints. Marcus looked horrified.

  ‘I am so sorry, Lizzie. Look at the state of your trousers! Come on in and let’s see if we can wipe them down for you.’

  ‘We could have stumbled across a new designer pattern here,’ I joked. ‘Honestly, don’t worry about them. That’ll teach me to lift my hands in the air while Frank’s around.’

  ‘Come inside and let me make you a cup of tea. It’s the least I can do,’ he offered while turning the key in the lock and pushing open the front door. He stamped his feet on the mat, and I trailed in behind him.

  ‘I’ll just wipe his feet over and leave him in the kitchen before he ruins any more of your clothes. Make yourself comfortable in the living room – I’ll be with you in two ticks,’ he said, nodding towards the living-room door.

  The living room was piled high with cardboard boxes, and at the far end stood a beautiful upright mahogany piano. I’d been friends with Sarah Baldwin since the day we’d moved in and had flitted in and out of this house numerous times over the years. It was strange standing here now, no longer surrounded by her possessions, the walls bare, all of her pictures gone.

  I settled down on Marcus’s sofa and placed the bottle of wine and card on the coffee table. Within a few moments Marcus wandered back into the living room juggling a teapot and a couple of mugs on a tray.

  ‘Here we go – a much-needed cup of tea,’ Marcus said, placing the tray down next to the wine. He seemed to hover nervously for a second but then moved the cushion on the sofa and sat down next to me. I was a little surprised, as there were two other armchairs in the room. I was suddenly hit by the spicy aroma of his aftershave, and I felt an instant tingle surge through my body. I caught my breath, conscious of how close he was. I felt my cheeks blush and tried to ignore it.

  ‘You were up early on Tuesday?’ I quizzed.

  Marcus nodded, ‘Yes, I was off to collect Frank. He’d been staying with a friend for a couple of days while I coordinated the move.’

  ‘He’s a lovely dog. Where did you walk him today?’

  ‘We’ve literally walked around the block a few times to try and get our bearings. I was going to pop over to see you later to ask whether there were any fields nearby so Frank could have a run.’

  ‘There are plenty of walks Frank would enjoy. Did you pass the rickety old corner shop at the end of the high street that looks like it’s seen better days?’

  ‘Yes, just past the post office?’

  ‘That’s the one. If you amble up the side of there and follow the gravel path over the stile, you’re immediately surrounded by fields. Past those there’s a beautiful wood and a lake. In the summer it’s breathtaking – the views stretch out for miles and miles, and if you keep to the signposted paths, it brings you round in a huge circle. It’s a perfect place for picnics.’

  ‘That sounds just the ticket. I’ll have a stroll that way tomorrow,’ he said pouring the tea into the mugs.

  ‘Do you like walking, Lizzie?’ he asked, handing me a mug.

  ‘I do, but I never get round to it any more. Many moons ago I’d push Abbie and Freya, my daughters, for hours in their pram. I’d bundle them up so tight they could barely move. They’d kick off their pink blankets and gurgle away. They’re all grown up now, and I don’t have a dog to walk, and Henry, my husband, would never go for a walk with me, so the furthest I walk these days is the bus stop.’ I took a sip of my tea.

  ‘Why wouldn’t Henry walk with you?’

  ‘The only place Henry walks to after a hard day at work is to his armchair to watch his beloved darts. It seems like that’s his only passion in life these days.’ I hugged my mug of tea tight and turned towards the window before Marcus detected the sadness in my eyes.

  ‘You’re more than welcome to join me and Frank any time you feel like some fresh air. We love our walks.’

  I hesitated for a moment. ‘Thank you, I may just do that.’

  Marcus leant forward and reached for the card from the corner of the coffee table. ‘Is this for me?’

  ‘Yes – just a little something to welcome you to your new home.’