Christmas for One: No Greater Love (12 page)

‘I need to go and check on the contractors, make sure everything is in place for the big installation later, but then I think we need to go off-site for a meeting,’ Edd said. ‘A very important meeting, just the two of us, and it might take some time.’ He nodded, never losing eye contact.

‘Right. Well, I better grab my bag and get my things together. See you back here in ten minutes?’ she asked, with a tilt to her chin and a sparkle in her eyes.

Edd smiled his confirmation as he ran his fingers through his hair, then stepped inside.

Meg’s phone pipped in her pocket. Fishing it out, she was delighted to see the word ‘Home’ flashing on the screen and a picture of Lucas, in his Gruffalo dressing gown, blowing a kiss. She’d taken it last year, one evening when he was fresh from his bath, his damp hair curled around his temples. Meg could almost smell his scent, a mix of talcum powder and baby shampoo. A quick glance at the clock told her it was early evening in London.

‘Hello, Mummy!’ he shouted.

‘Hey! It’s my boy! How are you, Lucas?’ Meg held the phone tightly against her chin. The sound of his little voice sent a ricochet of longing through her whole being. She missed him so very much.

She heard Lucas take a deep breath. ‘It’s fifteen days until Christmas and Aunty Pru and Christopher took me to the winter wonderland in the park and I got a terrapin called Thomas and he is in my bathroom in a tank and I had a toffee apple and some candy floss and then I went on a ride and sicked it all back up on Christopher’s leg. Bye!’

Meg chuckled down the receiver. ‘Lucas? Helloooo?’

‘Hello, love, it’s me. He’s gone, I’m afraid.’ Milly had collected the phone from the floor where Lucas had abandoned it.

‘Wow! That was informative and fast.’ She laughed.

‘My fault,’ Milly explained. ‘I’ve interrupted
A
Bug’s Life
and told him to give you his news. Which he did. I didn’t specify that he had to make small talk, enquire about your day or tell Mummy that he loves and misses her. Which he does, incidentally – both, very much.’

‘I love you for saying that, Milly, but I can tell he is as happy as Larry. As long as you are on hand to play pirates and feed him I know I’m entirely redundant. Is he sleeping okay?’

‘Yes. I wish I could say he’s pining for you and up all hours of the night, but the horrible truth is he’s on great form, eating well, sleeping good and laughing lots.’

‘I miss him.’ Meg swallowed the lump in her throat that was stuck with glue made of guilt. There had been whole hours in the last day or so that she hadn’t thought about him at all.

‘For Gawd’s sake, girl, you are only away for a couple of days! Try and enjoy yourself a bit. He’s more than fine, laughing all day and zonked out all night. And we still have lots to do. We have been eating all our meals inside the pirate ship, which I must say is a little cramped for comfort.’

Meg felt a fraction of her guilt slip away. If Lucas was happy… She closed her eyes, thinking about the rest of the day ahead and the man she would be spending it with. Enjoying herself was going to be easy. ‘How fab that Pru and Chris took him out. Are they okay?’

‘Yes, really good. We’re all looking forward to Barbados for Christmas. Bit of sunshine won’t go amiss. Is it cold there?’

‘Bloody freezing!’ Meg stamped her feet on the icy ground. ‘And I believe we have a new addition to the household? Thomas the terrapin?’

‘Ah yes, Thomas. Lucas thinks he’s a baby dinosaur. I’m sincerely hoping he isn’t – we just don’t have the room and it would break his heart to have to send his pet off to a dinosaur sanctuary because we couldn’t cope.’

‘That won’t happen, no matter how big he gets. We can just all budge up a bit and make space.’ Meg laughed.

‘It’s lovely to hear you laugh. Are you positive you don’t want me to book you and Lucas flights? You know we’d love to have him splashing around and it’d be nice for you to have a bit of sunshine.’

‘Oh, I know he’d love it, but I’d rather we stayed at home, Mills. We’ll be fine: days of pyjamas, pressies and the
Bug’s Life
movie on a loop.’ Meg let an image of Lucas and Edd flash into her mind. It was Christmas morning and they were all smiling. She shook her head.
Get a grip, girl, you only met him yesterday!

‘How are things there?’

‘A lot better today than they were yesterday. Oh, Mills, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare I’ve had. I’ll tell you all about it on Friday.’ Meg felt her breath catch as she realised she was flying home tomorrow. Torn.

‘Blimey, sounds like a drama. Are the contractors cracking on?’

‘Yes, finally. I can see light at the end of the tunnel. Should be back on track for opening just before Christmas.’ Meg felt proud to report that things had gone well. Job done, or nearly.

‘That’s great news! I got the proofs through for the local flyers and PR – they look brilliant.’

Meg could hear the relief in her voice. ‘It’s all good, Mills. I’ll give you a shout tomorrow. Tell Thomas I can’t wait to meet him and give the boy a big kiss from me.’

‘Will do, my lovely. Please take care of you. God bless and lots of love.’

Milly sounded motherly and concerned and, as ever, it left Meg with the warm feeling of being wanted, something she would never take for granted. An image formed in her head of the four-door saloons with the stench of fear ingrained in their velour upholstery that used to come and collect her from her mother’s flat, taking her to whichever care home or foster family she was destined for. Her mum, with dark circles beneath her eyes and unwashed hair pushed behind her ears, would lean against the wall, barely able to meet her daughter’s gaze, and mumble, ‘I’ll see you then…’ between drags on her cigarette. Her cool delivery always halted the emotional outpouring that threatened to spill from Meg, forcing her to match her mum’s seeming indifference.

‘God bless, lots of love, Mills.’ Meg smiled as she folded the phone into her bag and looked up and down the street, feeling pulled and confused. Happy to be having this adventure in this city and yet feeling strangely like she was in someone else’s shoes, living someone else’s life. Things like this just didn’t happen to her – only this time they had and she was loving it!

Meg turned and Edd was standing by her side.

‘I want to take you on an adventure,’ he announced.

She bit her bottom lip. ‘Don’t know if I like the sound of that.’

‘Well, this is my city. You have to trust me.’

I do…

‘Taxi!’ Edd stuck his arm out as a yellow cab swerved towards them and came to a stop. Opening the door, he ushered her in to the back seat before sliding in next to her. Juno waved goodbye from the shop window, giggling and winking as she did so. Leaning forward, Edd spoke beneath the plastic partition that separated the driver. ‘Coney Island.’

‘Coney Island?’ the driver repeated, then muttered something under his breath. Meg got the impression he wasn’t delighted about the fare – a bit like hailing a cab late in the evening in the West End of London and asking to go south of the river.

The cab pulled into the traffic. ‘Is it an actual island?’ Meg asked, picturing harbours, yachts and a ring of sandy beaches.

‘It used to be,’ Edd said, ‘but it kind of got joined up.’

‘What’s there?’ Her eyes were wide.

‘You’ll have to wait and see. It’s the first part of our adventure. I told you to trust me, Mary Poppins. You do trust me, don’t you?’ He smiled at her.

Meg nodded as the butterflies rose in her stomach and fluttered joyfully in her throat. How many times during her childhood had she got all excited about the possibility of her mum turning up and whisking her off to the seaside? She used to keep her T-shirt and second-hand flip-flops in a carrier bag all ready. And now, just like that, Edd was making her dream come true.

‘I love the seaside. It was the place I dreamt about when I was little. I never went, though, not properly.’ She pursed her lips, wary of giving Edd too much detail.

‘You never went on holiday?’

Ha! You don’t know the half of it.
‘I did once, to Clacton on the east coast, with a family I stayed with. We were in a musty caravan for a weekend and the dad, Len, set up a Swing ball that I loved. I remember we ate all our meals on a rickety pasting table that I thought would collapse with the tiniest puff of wind. It made it hard to enjoy my sausage sandwich. I played stuck-in-the-mud with the kids in the next-door caravan, three siblings from Newcastle who spoke funny.’ She smiled at the memory.

‘That’s funny coming from you, Mary!’ He laughed.

‘It’s not me that speaks funny!’ Meg swatted his arm. He caught her hand and kept it inside his.

Meg turned to look at the crowds of shoppers weighed down with festive-looking packages. She flexed her fingers. It felt wonderful to have her hand inside his. He tightened his grip. She hardly dared breathe; the moment was so fragile and perfect.
Yes. Yes, she did trust him.

The taxi trundled through the traffic and seemed to be heading out of town. Some thirty minutes later, Edd sat forward and reached for the wallet in his back pocket. The two had barely jumped out onto the pavement before the taxi sped away, still apparently less than happy, despite his hefty tip.

‘Oh look!’ Meg pointed. ‘I can see a big wheel and a rollercoaster!’

‘Not just any rollercoaster, that’s the famous Cyclone!’ Edd announced.

‘Is it a theme park?’

Edd nodded. ‘There are rides, yep, but it’s not so much a theme park. Some of the best weekends of a boy’s life are spent in Coney Island.’

Meg took in the red-brick towerblocks that sat behind the slightly rusty big wheel and the imposing bent track of the rollercoaster that looked fresh out of the 1950s. A mini Eiffel Tower stood in the foreground. She raised her eyes and looked it up and down.

‘That’s the parachute jump – fancy a go?’ Edd nudged her with his elbow.

‘No way!’ She laughed, feeling a little faint at the idea. She cast her eyes over the slightly dilapidated fascias of the shops, cafés and gelaterias. The neon signs were unlit and tattered flags hung limply from stubby poles. Even at this time of year there were tables and chairs set outside for the more daring patrons and the hardened smokers. It looked like any other seaside resort that had been abandoned in favour of newer, shinier places. But it was still seaside and that was all that mattered. She was so ridiculously happy, she wanted to skip.

‘I love seaside food! Greasy burgers, candy floss, chips!’ Meg tried to ignore the rumble of hunger in her stomach.

‘Candy floss? You mean cotton candy.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes. And chips come in a bag from the supermarket. What you mean is fries.’

She shook her head. ‘Yes, fries! And you know perfectly well what I mean – it’s not my fault if you guys talk wrong!’

‘Us that talk wrong? You are kidding me!’

‘No, I’m not kidding you. You even drive on the wrong side of the road, for Gawd’s sake!’

‘What is this “gourd” you speak of?’ Edd asked in an exaggerated tone.

‘It’s a mystic vegetable that we consult and it makes all the rules about driving, talking and eating in the UK. You could do with it over here to sort a few things out.’

‘Oh, please, don’t let it anywhere near our food. I can’t imagine having all our prime beef, spicy gumbo and
the
best apple pie in the world replaced with over-boiled cabbage and tasteless potatoes. No thanks!’

‘We don’t all live off boiled cabbage. And I guarantee nothing beats a good bacon butty made with thick white bread: four rashers fried to a crisp and a generous slosh of HP Sauce. You need to get the bacon grease soaked into the bread, that’s one of the rules.’

Edd shook his head. ‘That doesn’t sound half as good as a Philly cheese steak! Thinly sliced steak oozing melted cheese and topped with fried onions, stuffed into a long roll, not too soft, not too hard.’

‘What about British fish and chips? North Sea cod in a crispy beer batter, covered in salt and vinegar and eaten out of a newspaper.’

‘What? In preference to a Maine lobster with garlic aioli? I don’t think so!’ Edd countered.

‘Bangers!’ she shouted. ‘There’s nothing better on a cold night than a good British sausage served with onion gravy and mash!’

Edd shook his head. ‘Nope. No British sausage can come close to a good hot dog, eaten at a ball game with onions, ketchup and mustard.’

Meg was quiet, wondering whether to offer Devon scones with jam and cream next or a traditional Cornish pasty, when the idea of one of those hot dogs entered her head. She wanted one.

‘Ketchup
and
mustard?’ she asked. ‘I usually opt for one or the other.’

‘Both is the law. I shall take you to Nathan’s later and get you the best hot dog you have ever tasted.’

‘Yes, please.’ Meg grinned. ‘I do so love the seaside.’

‘You do? I thought maybe being a city girl, you might feel a bit queasy when you see water,’ he teased as they walked along the cold concrete of the almost deserted boardwalk.

‘I
am
a city girl, but I think that’s why the sea and beaches have always fascinated me. It’s like a whole other world. They sound different and smell different, they’re a place to escape to…’

‘I get that. When my dad wasn’t working weekends, he’d bring me here, give me a whole cup of quarters and I could stay till they ran out. I loved those days. I’d make those coins last for hours.’ Edd looked at her and smiled at the memory.

‘Where does your mum live?’ she asked.

‘Upstate, just under an hour away by train. About the right distance – not too close, but not too far either.’

‘It must have been hard for her, losing your dad.’ She hoped this wasn’t too personal.

Edd swallowed. ‘It was. It is. Thirteen years ago.’ He sucked his teeth and shook his head. ‘But there’s not a single day goes by we don’t miss him.’

Meg held his hand.

‘Ah, it’s strange, Meg. Meeting you, it’s kind of stirred up all my emotions. Like taking a lid off. It’s a very odd thing.’

‘Odd in a good way?’ she asked nervously.