Finding Love at the Christmas Market Read online

  I grab my coat and bag and run out of the shop. The bell over the door jangles madly as I leave. A sob catches in my throat, and I cry all the way back to the guesthouse.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  ‘Breathe, dear. Tell me what’s happened,’ says Pearl, beside the living Nativity’s manger. ‘Is it Heinrich? Has something happened?’

  They all shuffle around in the straw and find a seat for me next to the donkey, which snuffles at me with warm whiskers against the cold air.

  I stop crying for a moment. I take a deep breath and look up at Pearl. I shake my head. ‘I think Heinrich’s going to ask me to marry him,’ I say between gulps.

  Everyone stops fussing around and stands stock-still, like the perfect tableau, gathering around a bent-headed Mary.

  Then they’re all asking questions.

  ‘Is there a ring?’

  ‘Where’s the list? Did we write “a proposal for Christmas” on it?’

  ‘Will it be a winter wedding?’

  ‘Will it be soon?’

  ‘I’ve always dreamed of a Christmas proposal,’ says Alice.

  ‘Just a minute,’ says Pearl. ‘If you think Heinrich is going to ask you to marry him, why are you crying?’

  They fall silent again.

  ‘Oh, Pearl, I did something dreadful.’

  I take a deep breath and tell them about Heinrich, the ring, William and the fallen cake. They are silent, as if they’re staring at the debris of the town’s hopes and dreams. ‘It’s all my fault,’ I say, my face screwed up in mortification.

  ‘Yes,’ says Maeve.

  ‘But you were just trying to help,’ says Norman, kindly.

  ‘And if I’m understanding things right, it was William’s son who did this, not you,’ Pearl says slowly.

  ‘But I let him in. Told him to make himself at home. I was trying to get him to wait for his dad.’

  ‘But not to sabotage his dad’s year-long work,’ Di adds, and Graham nods in agreement.

  I take a deep breath as someone hands me a mug of glühwein. ‘But I didn’t look at the cake. I really didn’t. I should probably explain to him,’ I say.

  They all agree.

  ‘But I have no idea how to convince him I’m telling the truth without hurting him even more by telling him it was his son. The son he’s missed so much.’

  ‘So does that mean the competition is off? The other town will win?’ says Maeve.

  They all mutter in agreement.

  ‘Looks like Heinrich gets his Christmas wish,’ I say.

  ‘Which is what? You or buying the shop?’

  ‘Both, I think, Maeve. It’s all part of the life plan. Heinrich likes a plan and he likes it to happen on time.’

  ‘What about William?’ asks Pearl.

  ‘He’ll be … devastated. And it’s all my fault. Why, oh why do I always think I can help? Why can’t I leave things alone, leave people to get on with their own lives?’

  ‘Because if you did that, dear, none of us would see anyone from one day to the next,’ says Maeve, surprising me.

  ‘And we’d be living off toast and marmalade,’ adds Pearl, with a smile.

  Back in the guesthouse, I pull out my phone and hunch over it, while perched on the edge of my bed, and try to write something but the right words won’t come. I can’t imagine how he must be feeling. But I must find the words. I owe him that much at least.

  In the shop the little bubbles of writing appeared on William’s screen and disappeared again. No words or explanation arrived. He closed the screen and held his head in his hands.

  In my room at the guesthouse, I slam the phone shut. For once I can’t do this. I may have spent the last few years carrying out all my conversations online, looking for a life partner, the biggest decision you can make in life. But I can’t do this from behind the screen of my computer. This is something I have to do face to face.

  THIRTY-SIX

  I pull on my hat and walk down the wooden stairs, decorated with swags of greenery and smelling of pine and beeswax. I look around. There’s no one about, apart from Anja.

  ‘Hello, dear. Looking for your friends?’

  ‘I, er … Well, where are they exactly?’

  ‘Down at the ice rink, watching the skaters. Sad that Maeve won’t get to skate and the list will be unfinished.’

  Pearl’s Christmas memory list, unfinished. Our time here in the Old Town is definitely coming to an end. I have one more date with Heinrich. One more night to decide what I’m going to do, if I plan to make a life with him. I think of my list and the boxes I’ve ticked. Why am I feeling so hesitant? I said that if he ticked all the boxes, he’d be the one. And he does! I’m sure he does! But that’s for later. There is something else I need to do first.

  I head out of the heavy wooden door, the green wreath with ribbons framing the knocker. Outside flakes of snow are starting to fall, bigger than before.

  Snow. Alice’s Christmas wish. Tick.

  I put my head down and hurry towards the market square. I stop as I reach the corner of the building. It’s beautiful. The snow is swirling in the soft orange glow of the streetlamps and landing on the roofs of the little chalets, all lit up with white fairy lights that lead towards the covered terrace in the middle. Steam from the glühwein is rising to mingle with the snowflakes. The air smells of sausages, spicy and tantalizing, and roasting chestnuts. It smells like a place I’ve come to love. It couldn’t be more perfect. Tears spring to my eyes again. And now, thanks to me, it will never happen again.

  I head out into the square, where I can see the group all leaning on the side of the ice rink, watching, if I’m not mistaken, Pearl and Norman on the ice. I stop and stare. How fabulous is that? Neither of them is scared about falling: they’re just doing it. I turn to the corner of the market and the street where the bakery is. I have to put this right. I have no idea how.

  I put my head down against the snow and walk on, heart thumping. Why did I have to get involved? It was none of my business. Trust is what a relationship is all about. And trusting yourself. I’m cross with myself. And cross with Heinrich too, I realize. Am I cross? I ask myself. Is that what this feeling is? My insides are twisted and knotted, my heart is pounding, my mouth dry. Or is it something else? Is it that I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time? If ever. Did I ever feel like this at seventeen when I thought I was in love? And when I was with Tom? I thought it was love. I thought I cared about him and him about me. But he couldn’t have done, not when he’d left me for my ‘own good’. That was what he said. He thought we made each other unhappy. Do you leave someone you really love? Or do you try to make it right?

  I lift my head and stop in my tracks as a figure appears from the bottom of the cobbled lane. The snowflakes are tickling my nose and cheeks.

  It’s William.

  He stands still and gazes at me. The snowflakes fall between us. I’m terrified. I’m not sure if it’s because of what he’s going to say to me, or how I’m going to explain what happened, or how just seeing him is making me feel right now and knowing I may never feel like this again.

  Suddenly his dog shoots off at speed, legs and ears flying. We turn to look in the direction he’s running.

  ‘Fritz!’ William calls, throws his hands into the air, turns back to me without a hint of anything I can read on his face, then races after his dog through the snow towards the ice rink and the group standing there.

  I watch Fritz fly towards my friends, ears flapping, and to one person in particular. He skids to a halt and rests his head in her lap. Maeve rubs his ears, then holds his face in both hands and smiles.

  William slows to a walk and allows Fritz to sit with Maeve, him staring up at her, her down at him. He glances over his shoulder at me and, again, my insides lurch and resettle, but this time in a whole new configuration. I take a few steps towards him, but stop. I can’t say everything I need to say in front of everyone. He walks over to Maeve, bends and pats Fritz’s head. I stand and
watch as the group begin to chat. Pearl and Norman make their way off the ice and, smiling, begin to talk to William. He stands, listens, nodding, understanding. And then he holds up a hand and walks towards the skating kiosk. I watch from a distance, hugging my arms around myself as he reappears and sits down, takes off his boots and puts on skates. A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Even at a time like this, he’s making sure the visitors enjoy their time here. Having laced his skates, he gets up and walks over to Maeve. He bends to speak to her. Then, at a nod from her, he grasps the wheelchair handles firmly and pushes her to the rink, holding tightly as the wheels slide onto the ice.

  Then, confirming everything I think about this caring, kind man, whose passion for baking runs through his veins, as deeply as it does for his family and his town, and who is far too engrossed in his passion to pay attention to timekeeping, he glides around the ice pushing Maeve in her wheelchair, her smile widening all the time. Finally, to Céline Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’, the Titanic theme, she holds out her arms in her plastic cape, as if she’s as free as a bird, as she was before the wheelchair. Tears slide down my cheeks for Maeve, for the memories we’ve rediscovered and the ones we lost along the way.

  I walk over to the group as William is wheeling her off the ice.

  ‘Oh, that was wonderful!’ Maeve’s hands are clasped together, her cheeks pink, and she embraces Fritz, who is waiting for her. Everyone is gathered around her, all smiling and as pink-cheeked as she is. Anja is there, handing around glühwein.

  ‘Thank you so much, William. You are a wonderful man. I hope things work out for you,’ says Maeve.

  He nods, sadly. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ But the market is half empty. ‘I just wish we could have got more people here.’

  ‘Don’t know what they’re missing!’ says Maeve, still beaming and breathless.

  ‘Oh,’ says Norman. ‘The New Town got a ski slope put in, on a big piece of land behind the theatre. I heard it from the knitters’ circle I met with this morning for coffee at the jumpers stall.’

  Pearl’s surprise shows on her face. ‘You’ve become very friendly with the knitters,’ she says. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a tiny hint of jealousy there. But Pearl has always said she’s never wanted another man. And if Norman has fallen for one of the knitters, good for him.

  A ski slope! I look at William. He lifts his chin and breathes in deeply. So that was Heinrich’s surprise. Always trying to go one better. Always wanting to outdo William and the Old Town.

  I stare at William. Suddenly he looks straight at me. And in that moment, I realize it, like scales falling from my eyes. My exchange student when I was seventeen wasn’t the one who got away. I just thought he was. When Sam’s dad left me, I wanted there to have been more out there so I made myself believe I’d had a first love that got away. Made myself believe I was still looking for a version of him by coming here to meet Heinrich. I think about Tom leaving me, telling me it was better for me if he went. But if it had been love, real love, he’d have stayed and weathered the storm. You don’t leave the ones you love when the going gets tough. He didn’t love me. We just rubbed along. If it had been love, he’d have stayed with me. Is that what Heinrich would do for me or me for him? Would we stand by each other even when life was tough? Or would we just rub along?

  ‘So have you found love?’ William’s words come back to me. Have I found love in Heinrich? Dare I admit I want more than just a tick list? Could I grow to love him? Suddenly there is a final box I need to tick: am I in love?

  I back away from the group.

  ‘Connie!’ I hear William call.

  ‘Sorry, there’s somewhere I have to be,’ I call back, and run towards the bridge, towards Heinrich’s factory and shop, as fast as I can.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  ‘Connie? You’re early.’ Heinrich frowns.

  ‘I know, but I really needed to see you,’ I say, out of breath, standing in the brightly lit shop.

  ‘That is very nice. Very nice indeed.’ He attempts to smile but he’s clearly a bit thrown: the sales assistant had had to explain that I was here and needed to see him.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can go? To talk?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, I have a table booked for us at seven. I’m due to pick you up. I have a special taxi.’

  ‘Special?’

  He beams. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise. I have a horse and carriage picking you up to bring you to the restaurant.’

  ‘You did that? For me?’

  He nods.

  I wait for the butterflies to flutter in my stomach. But they don’t come. Where are they?

  He looks at me, clearly concerned. ‘But I could cancel it … see if we could have drinks in the bar first.’ He’s still holding his watch, like a safety blanket. ‘I’d have liked to organize this first, of course,’ he says, as he dials. ‘It is our last night after all, a special one.’ He smiles, but somehow it doesn’t reach me, although I really, really want it to, and I can’t smile back. I need to talk to him. I need to work out exactly how I feel. ‘Tomorrow is your last day here in the New Town,’ he says, looking at his watch again!

  If we got engaged, married even, would our life be one long schedule that we had to keep to? I clench my fists and release them anxiously. If he really is going to ask me to marry him, I have to know how I’m going to answer. Am I going to say yes and take this chance, a chance on us?

  ‘Okay, we have a table for drinks at the bar. I’m just going to organize my desk, cancel the carriage ride …’ he looks at my anxious face ‘… and check with my manager that everything is in hand. Do you need to change?’

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ I say, impatient to get off my chest what’s on it.

  He goes up to his glass-fronted office and takes his time organizing his desk. Then he speaks to his manager on the factory floor, checking his watch and going over the plan for the morning and tomorrow’s early-evening baking competition.

  Finally, we get to the restaurant and he leads me to the bar, overlooking the square and the ski slope.

  ‘I pulled some strings,’ he says, pleased with himself, still adjusting his jacket and hair. ‘So, some champagne?’ He reaches for the bottle in the ice bucket and pulls it out, dabbing off the moisture with a napkin before he opens it.

  ‘Actually, could I have some water first, please?’ I ask, my mouth dry.

  Everything is picture perfect, even Heinrich, and yet, deep in my heart, there is someone I would much rather be with.

  ‘Heinrich? Why me?’ I ask, and it comes out blunter than I was expecting.

  ‘Well, because we are the perfect match for each other. We like the same things. Want the same things.’

  ‘Do we?’ I blurt. ‘I mean … I’m only just finding out what I want, who I am, and if I’m only just discovering that, how can you know?’

  ‘Are you okay, Connie? You seem different this evening.’ He frowns, and puts the bottle down.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m good. I’m … actually, really good. Heinrich, if you could have one Christmas memory to stay with you, what would it be?’

  ‘That’s easy!’ He looks at me with delight on his face, as if he has everything he wants right here in front of him. ‘I will win tomorrow and make sure everyone knows who is the rightful winner of the competition, the best winter market.’ He adds, ‘And, of course, for you to agree to my proposal.’

  I take a moment to let it all sink in, to work out why I’m disappointed by his reply.

  ‘You can have all the right ingredients …’ I hear William’s words in my head and try and shake them. But I can’t shake the urgent feeling of what I have to do now.

  ‘Heinrich, if you could have anyone around your Christmas table, who would it be?’ I’m thinking of William, wanting the ones he loves.

  His face changes. ‘My brother, Maurice,’ he says evenly, and I nod.

  ‘You miss him?’

  He doesn’t answer the questi
on straight away.

  ‘Things were different then. Maybe I would have taken a different direction in life, instead of working for the family business. He left a hole in the family. We never really got on,’ he gives a small laugh, ‘but, yes, I miss him. And how life might have been different,’ he finishes quietly. The words hang in the air. This is the most I’ve seen of the ‘real’ Heinrich. All the rest of it is just … ticking boxes. For all those boxes, we don’t really know each other at all. He’s being the son his family want him to be. He’s trying to take his brother’s place. He’s not living his life, he’s living someone else’s. And I’m not sure that’s a great recipe for a relationship.

  ‘Did you ever just take a chance on love?’

  ‘Love’. The one word missing in all our lists.

  ‘I did. Once.’ He nods sharply. This is unknown territory for him, I can tell.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask, before he changes his mind and clams up.

  ‘It didn’t work out. We wanted different things. She went to America to work.’ He’s looking down at the empty champagne glass.

  ‘Do you ever wish you’d followed her?’

  He stares into the empty glass. ‘It wouldn’t have worked.’ He shakes his head. ‘I was needed here. And if it hadn’t worked out …’ He shrugs.

  ‘But what if it had?’ I say slowly, letting the words form in my head. ‘What if it was worth taking the chance? If you’d just followed your instincts.’

  ‘Instincts can get you into a lot of trouble,’ he says, shutting down the conversation, and I know he’s talking about his brother.

  ‘Or maybe you find just what you’re looking for,’ I say, so quietly that I’m not sure I’ve even said it out loud. ‘Heinrich, have you ever been engaged before?’ I ask suddenly.

  ‘Er, no. Not actually engaged.’ He seems a little uncomfortable.

  ‘Have you ever met anyone online and proposed before?’ The thought suddenly appears in my head.