A Recipe for Christmas
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First published in Great Britain in 2024 by Penguin Books an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Jo Thomas 2024
Jo Thomas has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Epigraph on page vii is from Chocolate by Donna Hay (Fourth Estate, 2008).
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9781804993842
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For Juliet. Thank you for being a fabulous friend. x
‘The
sharing of chocolate is an act of love. The generosity of the gesture brings smiles to faces, lifts spirits and restores good humour.’
Donna Hay
Eight weeks before Christmas
How many Lindor chocolates can you fit into your mouth at the same time? Three isn’t as easy as you may think. I have one in each cheek and another on my tongue. I stare at the ceiling, waiting for them to melt and deliver their silky sweetness. I pick up the television remote control and flick through the channels to A Place in the Sun as one chocolate melts, making room for a fourth. Impressive, well-practised chocolate manoeuvring.
Then I consider mixing things up. What if I add a square of dark chocolate and sea salt? It would be like a party in my mouth! I’m smiling, as if I’ve got the best secret in the world. Maybe I have. Right now, I’m the only person who knows it and that feels extra
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exciting. Well, me and one other. And I cannot wait to share it.
I pick up my leavers’ package. As an HR manager I’d put it together for employees facing redundancy. I flick through the pages, skimming the words I’d written. I’d read them aloud, if my mouth wasn’t full of chocolate.
‘Stay positive. See this as a new beginning, rather than the end . . . Keep yourself busy . . . Stay in touch with friends . . . Take up a new hobby . . . Give yourself time to work out what you want to do next.’
I pop a fifth Lindor into my mouth, trying not to let the chocolate ooze out between my teeth. I throw the red and gold foil wrapper onto the coffee-table to join the others and carry on flicking through the pack. When I wrote it I tried to put myself into a leaver’s shoes. And now . . .
The doorbell plays its cheery tune. I swallow the chocolate, scoop up the wrappers and put them with the pack on the work surface in the kitchen.
‘Hey!’ I smile, opening the door. My two best friends pile in with boxes of pizza, more chocolates and bottles of prosecco. There’s Shloer for Marianne and her bump, which is way more obvious than it was last week – I can’t help putting a hand to it as I hug her.
It’s what we’ve done every Thursday night for as long as I can remember, taking it in turns to go to each other’s houses, now that we no longer share one. Those
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days are long gone. Life has moved on from when we all worked in the local department store, me in the café, Raquel in Make-up and Fragrance, and Marianne in Womenswear. Well, it’s moved on for them anyway. I went from the café to Home Furnishings to Personnel on the top floor, or Human Resources as we call it these days. Raquel and Marianne have bought their own homes and have partners, Marianne has the baby on the way, while Raquel is running her own make-up artistry business and is planning her second wedding. I have a tenant living with me, which helps pay the rent and fills one of the rooms. Now, in a moment of madness, I’m leaving the place I’ve worked all my life! My stomach flips over with a mix of excitement and fear.
‘So how was work?’ Marianne eases herself onto one of the kitchen chairs and shoves a cushion from the neighbouring seat behind her back. I never knew what ‘blooming’ meant until I saw Marianne go from party girl to mum-to-be. I turn off the TV on the worktop, push aside the leavers’ package, fetch the plates from the oven where they’ve been warming and put a bowl of salad on the table.
‘And how were your work drinks last night?’ asks Raquel, opening a bag of Maltesers, picking one out, tossing it into the air and catching it in her mouth as she always does.
I drizzle the salad with a dressing of red wine vinegar, honey, olive oil, garlic and a generous twist of
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black pepper, then fold the leaves over and over until they’re all coated and glistening. I miss cooking. I haven’t done any in ages. Not since we all lived together, really.
I used to cook at home, growing up, but very basic stuff and mainly out of necessity. I didn’t have the sort of mother who baked. Once I was working and able to look after myself, she moved to Spain with her then partner. I stayed with a friend of hers until I could rent a room of my own. Cooking made me feel I was in the now. When I felt lost, just stirring a pan of beans helped.
In the café at the department store I enjoyed making breakfast for early shoppers, cakes for afternoon browsers. When I moved into the offices and my friends went their separate ways, I left cooking behind. Making salad to go with our Thursday-night pizzas is the closest I come to cooking, these days. I’d like to do more, now that everything is about to change, and I feel a fizz of excitement, like a firework getting ready to whoosh.
‘Pretty standard,’ I say. ‘Geoff from Bathroom Fittings led them all in the Macarena, at which point I snuck off!’
Raquel shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe he’s still doing that.’
‘I’m surprised the store’s still going. People don’t go out shopping much any more. They do it online. I got a great deal on my wedding dress. I sent the company my measurements and it came in no time,’ says Raquel.
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‘People browse, but they go online to shop. Black Friday bargains are where it’s at. I miss the one-to-one interaction with shoppers. I loved being in Grocery when they were short-staffed, helping people choose what they needed.’ I shake my head. ‘They were happy days.’ The words catch in my throat. ‘Were! I can’t believe I’m saying that!’
‘Let’s eat!’ says Marianne, saving me from sadness, but she has no idea how I’m feeling – excited, terrified, anxious, happy . . . I just need to line the words up and tell them.
We open the pizza boxes and fold the lids back on themselves.
‘Pineapple!’ says Marianne, looking in disgust at my favourite topping.
‘You’d find a way to make a roast dinner sweet if you could.’ Raquel pops open the prosecco and pours it into the glasses I’ve put on the table, with the Shloer for Marianne, who is adjusting herself in her chair.
‘I would! A little dark chocolate in the gravy, with red wine!’ We laugh. ‘And you love chocolate as much as I do!’
Raquel smiles. ‘Yes, but I’m trying to cut down. I’ve got a wedding dress to get into.’
‘I think it’s good for the baby,’ says Marianne. ‘I bought us a dessert pizza too – Nutella and marshmallow!’
‘Yesss!’ I say.
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We all fall about laughing.
‘I love chocolate! And pizza! What better combination?’ I bite into a slice.
Raquel sips her prosecco, and I try to put into words what I’m turning over in my mind.
‘So, what’s been happening this week? Anyone got any news?’ asks Raquel, and puts a forkful of salad into her mouth.
‘Baby’s getting bigger!’ says Marianne, rubbing her belly. ‘My mother-in-law wants to call him Wilf if he’s a boy.’
‘Wilf?’ we chorus.
‘Well, my mother-in-law-to-be has presented me with a list of extended family and friends she’d like to invite to our wedding,’ says Raquel. ‘One of the cousins wanted to see a menu as her husband’s not keen on fancy food. And then she asked if she could bring a supermarket ready-meal for him.’
‘What?’ Marianne practically falls off her chair.
‘Actually,’ I hear myself saying, still not sure how to deliver this. ‘I have news.’ I’ve done it.
‘Really?’
They fall silent and stare at me. I never have news. I do the same thing every week. I go to work, have pizza and prosecco with them on a Thursday, Pilates on a Friday.
‘Don’t tell me, there’s been a bust-up in the staff kitchen over Friday cakes! Someone keeps leaving
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thumbprints in the coffee eclairs so no else can eat them and it’s going to a hearing.’ Raquel grins.
I almost choke on a piece of pineapple.
‘Or more details of your new squeeze? How’s that going?’
With a slug of prosecco I stand, pick up my leaver’s pack, bring it to the table and put it down.
Marianne picks it up and flicks through it. ‘You’re revamping the leavers’ pack?’
I laugh with a hint of hysteria.
‘No. This one is mine.’ I sip my prosecco.
‘You’ve been made redundant?’ Marianne slaps her hand onto the table.
‘That’s outrageous! After all the years you’ve given them!’ Raquel is on her phone already. ‘Do you want me to get you a solicitor? I know someone who could help!’
‘No, no. I’m going to follow my own advice. I’ll see this as the start of the rest of my life. I took voluntary redundancy. They were looking for people to go and I decided . . . to go.’
They stare at me in stunned silence.
Marianne breaks it. ‘Well, that sounds exciting!’ She burps. ‘Excuse me. It must be the shock.’
Raquel is still gazing at me in disbelief. ‘You took redundancy?’
I nod. Suddenly all my positivity is seeping away.
‘You’ve got a plan, right?’ Raquel says, sounding
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I cringe. I wrote it but never expected I’d be talking to myself. But I am positive. Very positive. I take another swig of prosecco. ‘No new job. Not yet. I want to do something different. I’m not sure what but it’s time for a change.’
Raquel and Marianne look at each other and I know what they’re thinking. That I don’t do change. But I do now. It’s time. I take a deep breath.
‘I broke my Mr Tickle mug at work last week. I’ve had it for so many years that it got me thinking about things. Life. Geoff doing the Macarena at everyone’s leaving do – and they’re happening more and more regularly. You’re right, the company isn’t going to be around for much longer and I didn’t want to wait for it to close down. It was like a sign.’
‘You broke your Mr Tickle mug and it was a sign,’ Raquel repeats. I know it sounds a bit mad. ‘But you love that job!’
‘I don’t think I do. I loved knowing how to do it, where everything was. And I knew everyone. But, really, is that enough? You two have moved on, while I was stuck with my Mr Tickle mug and cakes on Friday!’
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‘So you want a change?’ Marianne says slowly.
I can tell they’re wondering what’s happening and where the real Clara Mackenzie has gone.
‘I’m going to be forty next year!’ I say. ‘You two have partners. You’ve bought houses and Marianne’s starting a family. I’ve just been sitting in the office with life passing me by.’
‘Says here they’ll pay half towards a course of your choice for retraining.’
‘Yup.’ I help myself to a slice of the chocolate and marshmallow pizza. I take a bite and my eyes roll heavenward. ‘This is fantastic! I could eat it all day every day.’
‘Any course you want?’ Raquel asks.
I nod again. ‘This is something everyone should know about,’ I say, and take another bite of the sweet pizza.
‘You could do food blogging?’ Marianne says, as Raquel reads through the list of suggestions I’d included in the pamphlet.
‘Or gardening for beginners. Write a novel. Wedding planning. Floristry.’
‘I’d do glass-blowing!’ Marianne says.
‘Silver surfers.’
‘Hey! I’m nearly forty, not sixty!’
And we laugh again.
‘Carpentry?’
‘No!’
‘Golf!’
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‘Absolutely no!’
‘Stitch and bitch?’
‘Stitch and what?’
Raquel puts down the pack. ‘And they pay for this?’ she asks.
‘Yes. Well, they pay towards a course. And if you don’t complete it, you have to repay the fee.’
‘Yes, but you’ve got your redundancy money. You’ve been there for ever! You could do something you’ve always wanted to do! What do you fancy?’
I put down the pizza slice and try to dust off my sticky fingers. ‘Actually, that’s not my only news.’ I swallow. They look up at me.
I take a sip of prosecco with still-sticky fingers around the stem. ‘It’s the guy I’ve been seeing.’
Marianne puts her hands together.
‘Oh, no, don’t tell me he’s turned out to be another frog!’ Raquel frowns.
‘Far from it.’
‘What’s his name again? Dominick, David?’ ‘Daniel.’
‘I knew it was a D. Tell us more. How was your weekend away?’
‘Sounds so romantic, meeting up halfway between where you both live for a weekend of lovemaking,’ says Raquel.
I blush at the memory of last weekend.
‘That’s not the first time you’ve met up for a
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weekend with Daniel,’ says Marianne. ‘Are you two dating officially?’
‘Yes, we are. Official.’
They lift their glasses. ‘Woo-hoo!’
‘I’d hoped he was going to be the one from what you said about him. He’s funny, with a good job and no baggage,’ says Raquel.
‘Great in bed!’ says Marianne, and I blush again, wishing I hadn’t shared quite so much with them on the last two Thursdays.
‘Here’s to kissing lots of frogs before you find the one you’re looking for!’
I try to ignore this reference to my online dating history. ‘Actually,’ I clear my throat, ‘he’s been offered a new job.’
‘Great. Where?’ Marianne’s eyes widen with interest. I put down my glass, and prise my sticky fingers away from it. My phone vibrates and I glance at it. ‘Oh, God! It’s the WhatsApp group for recently redundant employees I set up. They want me to go for the cake and coffee morning to talk about how I’m feeling.’
‘What about Daniel?’ Raquel asks impatiently. ‘What’s the job? Is it near here? Are you going to get serious?’
‘It’s not near here.’
‘Where is it, then?’ Raquel frowns.
I take a deep breath. ‘Switzerland.’
‘Switzerland?’ They fall silent, excitement on pause.
‘I’m so sorry. I thought you and he were really going
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to make it! God, this dating malarkey is tough!’ Raquel says. ‘I can’t believe I got lucky with Jake. I knew as soon as I met him that he was the one. It’s a lottery!’
‘It is.’ I push away the pizza and help myself to one of the Maltesers Marianne is popping into her mouth.
‘That’s why I’ve decided I’m not going to put myself through it again.’
‘I don’t blame you, darling.’ Raquel puts her hand over mine.
‘I’m done with online dating,’ I say firmly. I toss the Malteser into the air, open my mouth – and miss. I grab it from the table and put it into my mouth.
‘I couldn’t do it,’ says Marianne. ‘If I hadn’t met Levi at the Michael McIntyre gig, I don’t know if I’d ever have settled down.’
I look at my two best friends, Marianne with a baby on the way, Raquel on her second marriage. And then there’s me: in the same job for the last twenty-three years, living in a rental property with a flatmate I barely see. The highlight of my week is pizza and chocolate night with Marianne and Raquel, who have more going on in their lives in a week than I do in a year. Now is my time to do something for me, something adventurous, before I hit forty in January!
‘What are you going to do?’ Marianne asks. ‘There must be plenty of jobs out there for an HR manager with your experience.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t want to swap one job for
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another that’s the same. At least, I don’t think so. I want an adventure. I don’t want to spend any more days drinking out of a Mr Tickle mug in the office kitchen.’
‘Shame about Daniel moving away. You could have tried living near him in London, see if he was the one.’
I take a deep breath. ‘That’s why I’ve said I’ll go with him,’ I say almost shyly.
‘Did she just say what I think she said?’ Raquel squeaks at Marianne.
A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. I put in a handful of Maltesers and try to keep them there, which is hard as I’m smiling so much.
Raquel raises a smartly polished nail.
‘Did you just say you’re going with him? To Switzerland?’
I nod vigorously, crunching and swallowing. ‘I’m moving to Switzerland! With Daniel!’
‘I can’t believe this!’
‘You’ve taken redundancy and are moving to another country with a man you’ve just met?’
‘When are you going?’
They’re talking over each other.
‘Next week!’
‘Next week?’
They fall quiet again.
‘But you’ve only just met,’ Marianne says eventually. ‘Surely you’ll give it a bit of time before you go, do a few trips, see if you like it first.’
Jo
Thomas
‘No. I’m going when he does. Another tenant is moving in here.’
Raquel cuts in. ‘How many times have you met up in person with Daniel?’
‘Well, yes, it’s a bit quick, but we think we should go for it. I mean, on paper we’re perfect for each other. I say on paper . . . on the app. And we get on so well – we talk and text all the time.’
‘And we know they get on in the bedroom!’ Marianne raises an eyebrow.
My cheeks burn.
‘Look, I know it sounds exciting, but I’m not sure you’ve thought this through,’ says Raquel.
‘I’ve thought about nothing else since he suggested it. What if it’s the right thing? What if this is my chance of happiness?’
I look at them and they look at each other. I want them to be happy for me, not think I’m completely mad.
‘I really think this could be it,’ I say, as if I’m pitching the idea to them. And that’s exactly what I am doing, I realize. ‘My chance to have met someone, the one. Everyone else is moving on with their lives, and this is my chance. I just need to take that leap of faith.’
Raquel nods slowly and pats my hand. ‘I don’t want you to make a mistake. I know how easy it is to get it wrong when you’re desperate for it to work.’
‘Or it could be exactly right,’ I say. ‘We may not have
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known each other long but so far everything ticks the boxes.’
‘And sometimes you do just have to take a chance,’ says Marianne, and I can see she’s coming round to the idea.
Racquel still looks doubtful. ‘Your dating history hasn’t been great. You’ve been catfished, ghosted –’
‘But now—’
‘– and you’ve only just met Daniel!’
‘ We could go on meeting every other weekend for ever. We like each other. He hasn’t catfished me. Or ghosted me. I know what he looks like. We’re into each other. And we won’t know if we’re each other’s happyever-after unless we try,’ I say, feeling more confident as I go on. ‘I’m not stupid. Daniel’s got a flat with work and we’re going to give it our best shot. Say . . . until Christmas.’ I look between them. ‘You two have found love. I want it too. I want you to be happy for me. This is it. I’m going on an adventure. Of course we’ll have to work at it but we’re ready to do that. I’m taking what they call in the movies a big leap of faith. And I’m excited! I just want you to be excited too.’
‘This isn’t like you, Clara,’ Raquel says.
‘Yes, where is the real Clara?’ Marianne peers under the table, trying to lighten the mood.
‘Exactly! That’s what makes it so brilliant. I don’t want to be the old Clara any more.’
‘We just don’t want to see you hurt again.’
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I sigh, grateful for their concern. ‘I know. But Ben was a long time ago. I thought he was the security I was looking for after my mum left. But it was a bump on the journey. I’m ready now, older, wiser. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open. We’re just taking a chance to be happy. Finally, I’ll have a Christmas of my own. In our apartment. We’ll have a tree, decorations, presents. A proper Christmas in Switzerland. What could be more romantic? It’ll make up for all the Christmases I’ve had here on my own.’
They nod and smile slowly.
‘If you’re happy, we’re happy for you.’
‘Thank you.’ I lean over to hug them.
‘You’re going to Switzerland!’ exclaims Raquel.
‘ What will you do there?’ asks Marianne.
I smile slowly. ‘A course. It doesn’t state in the leavers’ pack what country the course has to be in. I’ll do something to tide me over, while I work out what I want to do next as we get settled in.’
‘What sort of course?’ Racquel laughs
‘Well, um, cookery, sort of.’
‘That’s brilliant! This is your time to find a new skill, and if it’s cookery, great!’
‘Well, not actual cooking.’
‘No?’ Raquel wonders.
I think I might explode with excitement.
‘Chocolate! We’re going to Switzerland, the home of chocolate. Imagine, days just full of it . . .’
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‘Chocolate’s great!’
‘Better than sex some say,’ adds Raquel.
‘More dependable,’ says Marianne.
‘Who doesn’t love chocolate?’ Raquel rips open a box of Dairy Milk.
‘Cute cabins and hot chocolate for six weeks. It’s up in the mountains.’ I grin. ‘It’s got to be better than sitting here waiting for my fortieth to come round!’
Marianne bangs the table again. ‘Go to Switzerland! And send chocolate!’ she commands.
‘Snow, mountains, all the chocolate you can eat, and a gorgeous man with a fab new job. What’s not to love? I thought it was mad. But you’re right! Take the chance!’ Raquel says.
‘You’ve finally met the man you want to be with and are taking the plunge!’ Marianne’s eyes fill with tears. ‘What’s not to love indeed?’
And then Raquel says seriously, ‘Just promise us that if it doesn’t work out you’ll come home. It won’t matter. No one will judge you.’
‘I just feel this is everything I want right now.’ There’s a crack in my voice. I’m taking my chance on love and hope love is doing the same with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel loved. My redundancy looks to be the best thing that could have happened. This is Fate.
I cannot wait for my new life to begin! My life with Daniel in Switzerland, my new chapter.
Seven weeks before Christmas
‘Hey, you’re home!’ I jump up from the sofa, swallowing the remnants of the Lindors in my mouth. I’d been seeing if I could get six in while I was waiting for Daniel to get home from work. I’ve kept myself busy rearranging the furniture in the apartment. I’ve been out and walked around the lake, and gazed into the expensive shops, as I have every day this week since we arrived. I’ve sent photographs back to Raquel and Marianne, introducing them to my new life. I’ve got into a routine, leaving the house after Daniel. Even stopping for a hot chocolate, which was lovely, if eye-wateringly expensive, drinking it as I looked out over the lake. I’m getting my bearings. I’ve enjoyed walking on my own
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in the cold, bright sunshine, but by the time evening comes, I’m ready for company.
My course doesn’t start until next week, and I can’t wait. It’ll be fun, making some Christmas gifts, getting a real taste of Switzerland. Chilling out and tasting chocolate, finding out how it’s made, drinking hot chocolate and making new friends. But for now I’m settling in. I wish I wasn’t doing it on my own, that Daniel hadn’t gone straight to the office in the afternoon of the day we’d flown in, after picking up the keys to our amazing apartment. It’s built of stone, and is French-looking on the outside. Inside it’s simple, but elegant and modern, with long windows leading out onto a balcony and the bustling city street below. I’ve spent hours over the last couple of days just watching the world go by. Trams, bicycles, motorbikes and mopeds, minibuses and cars are all vying for space. Work is starting on the Christmas lights across the road and in the shop windows, the building blocks for what I imagine will be wonderful when it’s finished. It’s busy and everyone has somewhere to be right now . . . except me. I’m just trying to feel at home in a new country, a new apartment, with a new partner, and it all feels a bit weird. I’m going to have a very different Christmas in the heart of this city.
I throw my arms around Daniel and get a gentle whiff of lager mixed with his expensive aftershave. I
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feel a dip in my excitement, wishing he’d wanted to rush home to me straight from work. Clearly there’s been a detour on his way home, but he’s moving to a new area too, and wants to get to know his colleagues. It’s fine, I tell myself. I was just eager to see him, which is a good thing. It reminds me that I’m where I want to be, with the man I want to be with. I mustn’t be needy. We should have separate friends and interests. Relying on him for company could be very off-putting. When I was with Ben, it was just him and me. He didn’t like me doing things without him. It became smothering. But Daniel and I are grown-up. We’re in this together. I have my course to start and friends to make and he has colleagues to get to know. But now that he’s home, I want us to go out and explore together!
‘I’ve been practising my French all day with people I’ve met,’ I say in a rush, keen to let him know that I’ve been busy, not just waiting for him to come home. ‘There’s been Davide the doorman, people in the bakery and the young woman who served me hot chocolate this afternoon.’
‘You and your hot chocolate!’ He laughs. ‘It’s not good for you, y’know!’ He gives my stomach a little squeeze.
For a minute I’m not sure if he’s joking. He slides his arm from around me, heads to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of red wine. I follow him.
‘I thought we could go out this evening. I’ve seen
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this amazing restaurant. Their desserts look insane. Or we could take a walk around the lake, maybe do a boat trip. Or there’s a rooftop bar I’ve found for drinks. It has amazing views,’ I say excitedly, and follow him back to the living room.
‘And about the languages here. Did you know Switzerland has four official languages? French, German, Italian and Romansh, an older language still spoken in the mountains.’ I sound like an online encyclopedia, but I’m excited to be sharing what I’ve discovered. I’ve already bombarded Raquel and Marianne with all these details. I’m just keen to embrace everything about my new home.
Daniel flumps down on the white sofa by the long French windows, which are covered with swathes of white netting. He pulls at his tie and flicks off his leather shoes.
It’s not like the chalet in Heidi that I was expecting when he suggested I move to Switzerland with him. But it is a very expensive apartment, with Davide, the friendly concierge on the door downstairs who knows my name, and a housekeeping service that cleans the rooms and changes the laundry every week. It’s a long way from my little terraced house with the Co-op at the end of the road for late-night emergency snacks.
I disappear into the kitchen and come back with a plate of cookies, which I put on the coffee-table in front of him. ‘I thought I’d get in some practice before
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my course starts.’ I look at him for a reaction, but don’t get one. He’s checking his phone with one hand and holding his glass in the other. ‘They’re reindeer cookies,’ I add, suddenly a little embarrassed, in case it isn’t obvious. It’s been a long time since I’ve baked, cooked or created anything in the kitchen. It wasn’t like getting back on a bicycle as I’d imagined. ‘And I’ve seen some new mugs we could buy for the apartment. Start making the place our own. I know I’m gabbling,’ I say, and I’m about to apologize but I stop myself. I’m excited to see him, that’s all. He’ll understand. I want to tell him everything I’ve seen today, the cobbles in the old town, the spa by the lake and the naked cold-water swimmers. I want to tell him about the pieces I’ve seen in the shops that would help make this our home.
He looks up at me. ‘Sorry.’ His smile is very attractive. ‘Just shattered,’ he says, holding out a hand to me. I take it. ‘It’s tiring, settling in.’
‘Oh.’ I let go of his hand. I hurry back to the kitchen and return with a plate of macarons I’d bought when I was exploring the local chocolate shops in and around the old town. I tried so many chocolate samples that I’m not very hungry, but I would like us to go out. ‘I thought we could go out for fondue.’
He holds up a hand. ‘You’ve done nothing but feed me since we got here. I have to watch my waistline. Especially with all the corporate dinners I’ll be going to.’
I lower the plate to sit beside the reindeer cookies,
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hoping he’ll be tempted later. He pulls at his tie, tugs it off and drops it onto the table on top of the macarons.
He looks at the empty Lindor box where I’ve been sitting. ‘Maybe you should get a job in a chocolate shop . . . Looks like you could be keeping Mr Lindor in business at this rate!’
He laughs, but I feel unsettled, as if he’s judging me. I grab the empty box and crush it. There was something comforting about the chocolates, a taste of home reminding me of Raquel and Marianne. Before I knew it, the contents had gone. Now I feel dreadful.
‘Just . . . homework for my course,’ I say, wishing I hadn’t said anything. So what if I ate a box of chocolates? I enjoyed them. Why do I feel the need to justify myself?
Suddenly I feel a huge gap between us. I don’t know this man at all. I’m in a foreign country and I don’t know anyone. I’ve made a big mistake.
‘Hey!’ He stands up. ‘I was just joking! Sorry, look, come here!’ He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head, reassuring me. ‘Honestly, I was just joking! We’re still getting to know what makes each of us tick. It’ll take time to adjust to being here, living together. Neither of us has done this before. Well, you have, I haven’t!’
And again I feel the tiniest niggle, scratching at me. Yes, I’ve lived with a partner, and I know you have to
Jo Thomas
work at it. I want to work at this. We’ll have to find our way through. It’ll be fine, I find myself saying again.
‘And your course starts next week. You’ll be sick of the sight of chocolate! Just don’t bring so much home!’ he jokes, but I’m still smarting from the Mr Lindor comment.
‘I’m having a cookie,’ he says, reaching down to the plate, flicking the tie to one side. He’s right: I do love chocolate and I love it here. I cannot wait to start at college. It’ll get better then, I know it will, and I smile at him.
‘Let’s skip dinner and go straight to bed,’ he says, and my smile widens. At least we know where we stand there . . . or should I say lie? I let him take my hand and lead me to the beautiful big bed, leaving the outside world behind.
Six weeks to Christmas
I look up from Google Maps on my phone. It’s brought me from the railway station in this small town – a few stops from the city – up a hill, across a bridge over a tumbling stream from the mountain, around a sharp bend and up a winding road to the building in front of me. I stop to catch my breath, hands on knees. It’s cold, really cold. My nose tingles and my breath plumes white in front of me. I walk across to an obvious viewing point, with a wooden balustrade, and gaze across the river to the sugar-frosted mountains opposite. I’m still breathing hard, looking back at the short walk from the station as the train disappears into the distance through the pine trees.
I lean against the railing. The road drops away to the
Jo Thomas
small town beyond the station, the cobbles shiny with frost. On the other side of the town, there’s an old stone gate, a lookout point and an ancient castle. There’s a high street, with timber-fronted shops, bars and restaurants. On the mountains, wooden chalets cling to the slopes that rise to high peaks. It’s just as I imagined Switzerland would be when Daniel first threw out the idea, after a wonderful meal in a small country hotel, followed by brandy beside the fire and the joy of lovemaking. It was when we were still in bed that he told me about the job in Switzerland. I was devastated. He sensed my disappointment and told me we’d make our relationship work somehow. We discussed ways and means, and our ideas gathered pace. We ordered more brandy and then he suggested I go with him. Why not try? Why not just take the chance? We celebrated by falling back into the pillows, our limbs tangling together again, among the sheets. I felt more excited about my life and future than I ever had. In fact, for the first time in my thirty-nine years, I felt I had a future.
My breathing is slowing and I’m taking deeper breaths. In and out.
There’s something about the air: it’s like the coldest, crispest glass of water I’ve ever tasted. It just feels, smells, tastes . . . clean. It’s revitalizing me with every breath. I want to drink it in. I turn to the school, down a long drive. The building is ornate, like a French
