Finding Love at the Christmas Market Read online

  ‘Come on, let’s get some breakfast.’ He unclips his seatbelt in the smart, leather-lined car. ‘There’s plenty to choose from in the market.’

  We step out and I can hear the market already. He locks the car with a beep-beep and checks his watch. ‘I need to be back in the office in one hour. Is that okay for you?’ he asks earnestly.

  Once again, I’m a bit surprised by his directness, but I quite like it. I know exactly where I stand. Some of my other online dates didn’t bother to let me know what they were thinking, or tried to make me believe something totally untrue.

  ‘Great,’ I say, watching the blue and pink lights coming from the far end of the market, lighting up a big glass building, where the street cleaners are working hard.

  ‘Great,’ he repeats. ‘Let’s go.’ He slings his arm around my shoulders and at first I’m a bit taken aback but, actually, I quite like it and let him leave it there. ‘Then we can decide if we want to see each other again,’ he says. Again, straight to the point. But what if he doesn’t want to see me again? I’m suddenly not relaxed at all.

  We walk through the market, which the stallholders are setting up. It’s quite early. Anja told me that the market where we are doesn’t really start until eleven. Here, the fairground waltzer is still covered, as are the other rides, which look as if they exist to scare the life out of you, loud music blaring and lights flashing to add to the thrill. Some businesses are opening the wooden shutters at the front of the little huts, much more modern and brightly coloured than the rustic ones in the Old Town. Perhaps they’re hoping to catch early-morning shoppers, smartly dressed young people with rucksacks, suitcases and laptops, carrying refillable coffee cups on their way to work. The air is full of the smell of coffee and, if I’m not mistaken, warm doughnuts.

  I’m suddenly feeling quite hungry as we walk closer to the stall selling spirals of dough covered with sugar. The bearded vendor pops his head out of the kiosk and offers me a piece to try. I hold up my hand to refuse, even though I want to try everything. I must be myself, I think, not what I’m imagining Heinrich is expecting me to be. But Heinrich stops at the stall. ‘Would you like one?’ he says.

  ‘They do smell delicious,’ I say, feeling as if it’s a test. If I say I’d like one, will he think I have no self-restraint? If I say no, will he think I’m too buttoned-up? He orders anyway, taking the decision out of my hands. I have to sort myself out. Be myself. I can’t try to second-guess this. Anyway, I’m here to see if I like him just as much as he is seeing if he likes me. It’s a two-way street. And right now, he’s handing me the delicious, sugary spiral doughnut and a hot coffee.

  ‘I remember you saying how much you like sugared doughnuts,’ he says, ‘when we spoke. I thought this might be exactly what you’d like for breakfast. No need for restraint. You’re on holiday! One won’t hurt.’ He points towards a covered seating area.

  I’d once mentioned liking doughnuts and how I have to resist them when they’re on offer at the end of the day in the supermarkets. ‘You remembered,’ I say quietly, looking at the treat in my hands. ‘Thank you,’ I say, touched. He gestures to the seating area and I follow him. All around the outside are wooden pods like huge wine barrels, benches and tables, and small blackboards showing the times when the booths are reserved. He leads me to stand at one of the tables to drink our coffee and eat our doughnuts.

  I gaze around, taking in the market. Heinrich, though, is keen to make the best use of our breakfast date. He describes the town’s layout, pointing to the big modern theatre, the cinema and bowling alley, and I look at the big shops and their Christmas window displays.

  ‘So, how do you like it?’ he asks, and for a moment I’m not sure if he means the town or the doughnut, which is very tasty, if a bit too sugary.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ I say, to both. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And your journey here was okay?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Actually … I came with some friends,’ I say, trying gently to introduce the fact that the elderly tourists surrounding me earlier had been with me all the time.

  ‘Ah, good. I’d like to meet them. How does this compare to your hometown?’

  ‘It’s … not that different. But this is totally unlike the other market,’ I say. They’re like two different towns, not one that’s expanded.

  ‘Oh, yes, we are very different from the Old Town. Our market has much more going on.’

  ‘So, you had a meeting with William this morning? Are you friends?’ I ask, and put the last piece of my doughnut into my mouth.

  He laughs and shakes his head. ‘No, I wouldn’t call us friends.’ He checks his watch.

  ‘But, if you aren’t friends, why did we meet at the bakery in the other town?’ I ask, dabbing my mouth with a napkin in an effort to wipe the sugar off my lips. ‘Oh, sorry, ignore me. None of my business. One of my faults. Always interested in other people’s lives. Some might even call it nosy!’ I laugh, a little too high-pitched, and continue trying to deal with the sugar.

  He chuckles, and hands me another napkin.

  ‘Thank you.’ I’m trying not to say anything else that might put him off me.

  ‘It’s fine. We’re here to get to know each other,’ he says, taking out a little bottle of antibacterial cleanser, spraying his hands, then offering it to me. ‘I have been trying to do some business with William. But he is … reluctant to face the facts.’ He shrugs.

  ‘His shop is beautiful,’ I say. ‘Not that yours isn’t! It’s beautiful too!’ Shut up, Connie.

  ‘Yes, but … there really isn’t room for two markets like this side by side. I’m offering to help him out. We take over the market, I buy the shop and stock it with my cakes. He’s had a bad run over the past few years. Their market hasn’t won the annual competition in ten years now. Ours is getting bigger and bigger, year on year. It would make sense. I could take over his shop and we merge the businesses and the markets. But he is stubborn and refuses. But it will all change on Sunday. Hopefully he will see sense.’

  ‘What happens on Sunday?’

  ‘It’s a big day for our towns. The baking competition.’

  ‘Like The Great British Bake Off?’ I remember Anja telling us about it.

  He laughs, a proper laugh. It’s nice. A hyena-style laugh can be very off-putting. I should add it to the list.

  ‘This is so much more than Bake Off,’ he says seriously. ‘There’s a lot at stake. Especially this year.’ He glances at his watch again. ‘Come on, let’s take a walk around and then we can decide if we want a second date.’

  We put our rubbish into one of the many bins provided and return our mugs to the kiosk. I pull on my gloves and follow Heinrich as he strides out from the table area into the busy shopping street. He’s so tall I barely come up to his armpit.

  ‘You should try this,’ he says, as we pass a bar setting up. ‘Eggnog with cream. A traditional drink. Would you like some now? I know you have a sweet tooth.’

  ‘Um, isn’t it a little early for hard drinking?’ I laugh. And I’m reminded of a breakfast date when my partner ordered pints of lager. Off-putting to say the least. Especially when I ended up paying for it all because his card was declined. He still asked for a second date.

  ‘Not at Christmas,’ he tells me, and orders one anyway. ‘Here, try!’

  ‘Are you not having one?’

  ‘I have to keep a clear head for today. We are working on our cake for Sunday.’

  I take a sip of the sweet, creamy drink, almost like melted white chocolate should taste. It’s lovely, but sickly. I sip it slowly as we walk around the town, Heinrich pointing out the activities that take place throughout the market in the run-up to Christmas, the silent disco, the stage for bands and DJs, the light show and ice bowling alley.

  As our hour comes to an end, we walk back towards his shop and car. The bright white lights are on. There is a glass counter with rows of cakes and staff wearing white coats and hairnets.

  ‘So, how di
d you enjoy our date?’ he asks.

  This time I’m ready for his directness. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? No messing around. ‘Very much,’ I say firmly. Then I swallow and ask, ‘And you?’ After all, this is about how we both feel, and suddenly I feel nervous.

  ‘Yes. I did. Perhaps I can show you my factory some time.’ He points to the brightly lit shopfront.

  ‘I’d like that.’ I smile, relaxing a little. He wants to see me again and I want to see him. This is great! ‘I … Well, I like making cakes,’ I say. I can really start to be myself: the first test is over. My shoulders drop. Getting a second date was great. From now on, it’s about finding out who we both are.

  ‘Of course, I remember. It’s what first brought you to my attention. We have a lot in common. That’s why I was so happy when you wanted to meet,’ he says. ‘We tick a lot of each other’s boxes.’

  I’m wrongfooted, like I’ve been caught out, then smile. ‘You have a list too?’

  ‘Of course! Who goes internet dating without a list?’

  We laugh.

  ‘Something else we have in common! So, would you like a second date? Tonight? There is a band playing here. Locals will come and meet friends, drink glühwein and beer.’

  ‘As long as it’s not another warm eggnog,’ I joke.

  ‘You didn’t like it?’ He looks crestfallen.

  ‘Oh, it was lovely. Just a bit too sweet for me …’ I trail off. Gosh, dating and trying to say the right things are like walking over eggshells.

  He glances at his watch yet again and I realize I’m holding him up.

  ‘But, yes, I’d love a second date,’ I say. ‘I’d like it very much.’ Oh, shut up, Connie. ‘That would be very nice.’

  ‘Okay.’ He consults his watch. ‘I have to go. I need to get my team organized for Sunday. Like I say, it’s a big event here. Hopefully after that, William will see the sense in my proposal.’

  ‘Sounds exciting,’ I say.

  ‘I hope so.’ He smiles again and it’s a very attractive smile, but I’m not sure if he’s talking about the big event, his expansion proposal or even me. But I find myself smiling back, liking the sound of all three.

  ‘And by then perhaps you and I will know if we will become a couple and make a plan of our own?’

  ‘By the end of the week?’ I say.

  ‘Of course. We will know if we want to be a couple, don’t you think? If all the right ingredients are there, so to speak? We know so much about each other already, and you have come all this way. No point in wasting time. We’re not getting any younger. If everything is right, if we are a match, we should make a plan.’

  I’m rooted to the spot. I hadn’t expected that. But he’s right. There’s no point in wasting time if everything is right. I’ve blown too many years on the wrong dates, and false dreams.

  Then he leans in and kisses me and I’m not sure if it’s going to be on the lips or the cheek. I turn slightly and it lands, neatly and perfectly, on my cheek. I’m kicking myself, though. I would have liked to taste his kiss on my lips. But that would be too soon, of course. There will be plenty of time for kissing … and who knows? What if we really are meant to be together? I shiver with excitement.

  ‘Yes, of course. By the end of the week.’ I’m slightly dazed, as if I’ve just been catapulted from shadows into the limelight. But he’s right: if you know, you know, don’t you?

  ‘By Sunday, our lives could have changed for ever.’ He smiles that big white smile again.

  NINE

  The light rain seems to have stopped and it feels colder as I walk back towards the Old Town, over the bridge, having turned down Heinrich’s offer of a lift. I don’t want to keep him away from his work and his competition piece. Anyway, I want to take in every bit of what’s just happened. I feel like a teenager replaying her first kiss, and smiling, feeling the tingle where his lips touched my cheek. Replaying every bit of our conversation, trying to analyse if it meant more than the words we used. He remembered I loved doughnuts. Some of my dates have struggled to remember my name! And after so many online dating disasters, could I have got it right this time? And if I have, it’s because of Sam and the list. If I haven’t, I’m not going through this again. This is it. My last attempt.

  As I walk out of town, I turn back to see the pink and blue strobe lights from the square still lighting the buildings and the sky behind me. As I head towards the bridge to the Old Town, I see the castle high above, looking down on the Old and New Towns. I stop on the bridge and gaze up at it, casting its long shadow over the Old Town, reaching out to the New Town at its foot. I lean against the bridge and stare down the watery boundary between the two, so different in identity yet both celebrating Christmas. It goes to show that Christmas is different things to different people.

  Christmas has changed for me over the years. Now Sam will be away and it will be just me. Despite our differences, his father, Tom, and I always made Christmas nice for him. But as soon as Sam was off to university, Tom told me he was leaving. He’d stayed for Sam’s sake, and now Sam was leaving home, he was too. Double whammy. That was when I’d started baking. For me, Christmas this year is about wishing for it to be over so life can get back to normal and I’m spared all the happy-family images on the television adverts.

  Not everyone is celebrating being with family at this time of year. Take Pearl and the others. Not one of them is looking forward to a traditional family Christmas. There’s Alice. She was married to a colonel in the British Army. She’s widowed. She has a daughter, a son and grandchildren but they barely see her. Then there’s Maeve, who has a sister and a niece. They always invite her for Boxing Day, never Christmas. She can’t stay over because there’s no downstairs loo and she’s confined to the wheelchair. Norman’s sister always invites him but he never goes. Pearl? Pearl was married three times, I think, but none of them lasted. She went to art college and ran her own gallery for a while, but sold up and lost most of the money in her divorces. John recently lost his wife and is bereft without her. And Di is exhausted from looking after Graham since he had his stroke.

  I look out at the river, then back up at the castle. I pull out my notebook and flip over the dating disasters until I get to Heinrich’s page.

  Reliability, so far, tick. Timekeeping, yep. Financially independent/stable job, tick. He has his own shop. Own car, tick. Shoes. I think you can always judge a man by his shoes, that and the way they hold a knife and fork, but I’ve yet to see that. Laughter, that’s the one I’m adding. Well, he’s made me smile, but we haven’t laughed properly together. But I did hear his laugh and it was nice. Appearance, a definite tick. I still need to find out about his family and how they get on, and how he feels about travelling to the UK for more dates. I suck the end of the pen. Just then, a Toy Town train passes me, giving a cheery toot, with the group of pensioners aboard, looking no happier than they did when we first arrived. Pearl and Norman wave. I push the book back into my bag and follow the little train to where it’s stopped on the outskirts of the Old Town. It’s more like a tractor pulling carriages, dressed up like a train with a big smiley face at the front. The tall, thin, familiar figure of Norman, dressed head to toe in beige, gets out and helps the others off, including Maeve in her wheelchair, and Di, leading Graham. More tourists get on board, younger people, families, tourists heading for the Christmas market over the bridge. There’s a pattern here. It’s getting busier. Only my crowd are getting off in the Old Town. Most are heading to the New Town, for the funfair and later, presumably, for the bands.

  ‘Yoo-hoo, Connie, how was it?’ Pearl is waving at me.

  ‘It was good.’ I realize I’m smiling.

  ‘I want all the details,’ she says, linking her arm in mine. ‘How’s the list going?’

  ‘Great. How was your trip?’ I look at the little train. ‘Did you go to the New Town?’ I narrow my eyes at her. ‘Were you spying on me again?’

  Pearl waves a hand. ‘No, no.’ She shakes he
r head but I’m not convinced.

  ‘It was awful!’ says Maeve. ‘All that noise and all those people. And the day’s barely started.’

  ‘Ah,’ I say. ‘So you were in the market. I’m surprised I didn’t see you.’

  ‘Pearl said we had to keep out of sight,’ said Ron, a bag of sweet treats hanging by his side.

  I give Pearl a hard stare. She shrugs. ‘Just keeping an eye and checking you’re safe,’ she says. ‘Dating dangers and all that.’

  ‘But it was good?’ says Norman, putting a hand on my shoulder like a concerned parent, wanting to know, but not being intrusive.

  ‘Thanks, Norman. Yes. It was good. And the market was huge.’

  ‘And you’re seeing him again?’ Pearl raises her eyebrow and looks fit to burst with excitement.

  ‘Yes, Pearl, I’m seeing him again.’ I put her out of her misery and she squeezes me to her.

  ‘Does that mean we’re staying here longer?’ says Maeve, looking bored and fed up.

  ‘Well … we have to find somewhere to scatter Elsie’s ashes, like we promised. But if you want to, and the others agree, we can go after that if you like, Maeve.’ I can hear the words coming out but a voice in my head says, Stay! Stay! I’ve only just started ticking my boxes and I want to tick more! But I can’t think only of myself. ‘I’d hate you to be here longer than you want. I can always come back and visit Heinrich again.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Pearl insists. ‘One, you can’t afford it because you lost all your savings, and two, we’re here for Elsie. We’re here to have fun!’

  ‘And we don’t know that the water is back on at the flats yet, Maeve. They said with it being such a busy time of year, it could take a week. You’d have to go and stay at your sister’s.’