Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall by Kate Forster

12

Marc could hear the boys yelling from the kitchen as he walked towards it and he pushed open the door to hear one yell at the other, ‘Go and bite your arse.’

‘Give it back or I’ll punch your face in.’

He was about to speak when he saw Christa come out of the pantry.

‘No one will be biting bums or punching faces, and certainly not in my kitchen. Please treat each other with respect and kindness or you can’t come on my adventure.’

He saw her hold out the coats for the twins and they sullenly pulled them on.

‘Why do you say bum and not arse?’ asked Seth.

‘Bum is a much better word, isn’t it?’ Christa asked as she pulled their woollen hats onto their heads.

‘Bum is a good word,’ Ethan agreed.

‘My aunt had a parrot that she taught to say to my uncle, “Bite your bum, Lester”, whenever he passed. Used to drive him mad but it made my aunt laugh.’ Christa said the phrase like a parrot and the boys roared with laughter and then copied her, repeating the phrase.

‘Who is Lester and why am I biting his bum?’ Marc asked, poking his head inside the doorframe.

The boys fell apart laughing again and he saw Christa join in.

Whatever happened to make her flee last night didn’t seem to be a concern now.

‘Good night?’ he asked, wishing he hadn’t when he saw her face. Her smile went steely. He had overstepped a boundary and he knew it.

‘Sorry, none of my business,’ he said.

‘How was the wine from your vineyard?’ she asked and he swore he could detect a hint of vinegar in her tone.

‘Very sweet,’ he answered.

‘We’re going on an adventure with Christa. Do you want to come?’ Seth yelled.

‘No need to shout, Seth.’ Christa had her back to him and was fiddling with a large cane basket on the bench.

‘Why not? Paul is decorating the house today and Adam and Peggy have been pulled in to assist, much to their horror.’

Christa turned to him. ‘I was wondering why Peggy hadn’t been in early.’

‘She’s in the woods with Paul and Adam scavenging for holly and ivy,’ Marc said amusing himself.

Christa did laugh. ‘I can’t imagine Peggy out in the depths of the woods getting in touch with nature. I hope Paul can handle her.’

‘Paul can handle anything. Peggy is a walk in the park compared to some of the big egos and demands he’s worked with.’

‘Don’t you mean walk in the woods?’ said Christa.

‘Touché,’ Marc said with a nod of his head.

She was clever and beautiful and talented and, he realised, she was completely unimpressed by his wealth. The comment about the vineyard in France was meant to impress her but instead she’d left the house.

For some reason Christa’s opinion of him mattered. Why did it matter when he hardly knew her? Yes he thought she was attractive and funny but there was something else. He felt he had to earn her respect, and Marc Ferrier hadn’t had to earn anything in a long time.

‘I will get my coat and gloves,’ he said. ‘Don’t leave without me.’ He wagged a finger playfully at his twins.

‘Bite ya bum, Lester,’ they said screaming at their own joke.

Sorry, Christa mouthed to him but he laughed with them and was still giggling when he came back to the kitchen all rigged up and ready to go.

‘Ready and able,’ he said to Christa, taking the basket from her hand. ‘What’s in here?’ he asked about to lift the lid.

‘No, don’t look – it’s a surprise,’ she said firmly, putting her hand on his and pushing down the lid.

He felt a physical connection to her and he wished he could kiss her for a moment. Just a quick kiss on those soft pink lips.

‘Righto,’ she said and she opened the kitchen door. ‘Let’s go.’

Outside Bill the gardener was waiting, a small black dog by his side. A mutt who looked like a cross between a Yorkshire terrier and a Jack Russell.

‘A dog,’ yelled the boys.

‘Mr Ferrier, Miss Christa,’ said Bill formally.

‘Marc, please,’ he said. He had told him and Peggy many times he preferred his first name but they refused to adhere to his wishes.

‘Just Christa for me. I haven’t been a “miss” since I was in school and in trouble.’ He watched her get down on her haunches and tickle the dog under the chin. ‘Who is this lovely lady?’

‘Meredith,’ said Bill. ‘She’s my assistant. She was sleeping earlier but is ready for the fun now.’

‘Hello, Meredith,’ said Christa and the boys joined her in patting the dog.

She stood up and smiled at them all.

‘Let’s get on with it then, and if you can’t get on with it, you can bite your…’

‘Bum!’ Marc and the twins yelled in unison.

*

Marc had forgotten how beautiful Pudding Hall was. He had been thinking about selling the house after Christmas but now he wondered why he didn’t live here permanently, except that the boys wouldn’t want to stay. Their lives were in America and he still shared custody. Perhaps it was a fanciful idea. So many people wanted to live in the country but then when they stayed they became bored and restless, missing the luxuries of the city. But York wasn’t so far away and it was a gorgeous place with everything he needed. He could work anywhere if he wanted to, he wasn’t tied to a city or a country.

The boys ran ahead with Bill, peppering him with questions about the dog and the garden and whether he had ever owned a parrot. Christa and Marc walked companionably as their feet crunched on the gravel.

‘So where are we off to?’ he asked, swinging the basket by his side.

‘We’re exploring this wonderful garden,’ she said. ‘The boys don’t know it at all. Have they been here very often?’

Marc felt ashamed. ‘They’re never been here actually. They’re usually in California.’

‘How many houses do you own?’

He felt embarrassed answering. He counted them in his head. The place in Gstaad that he never used. The one in Aspen. The penthouse in New York. The farm in New Zealand. The apartment in Paris.

‘A few,’ he said carefully.

Christa said nothing for a while as they walked. A peacock walked onto the path and opened his fan, much to the boys’ delight.

They all stopped and watched him show his beauty to them.

Christa leaned over to him and whispered, ‘Do you think he has a vineyard in France?’

Marc burst out laughing and the peacock, insulted, wandered off the path.

Christa turned and lifted her chin and gave a cheeky smile. ‘Sorry, it was too easy. I had to take the shot. I hope you’re not too badly wounded.’

‘Not at all. It’s funny and I did sound like an idiot. I don’t know why I said it,’ he admitted. But he knew why he said it. He wanted to impress her and he had failed.

Bill and the boys were a good way ahead now.

‘We all say things that come out the wrong way,’ she said.

They followed the path in a comfortable silence, as the sun shone down on them. There was no warmth in the rays but the light showed off the elegant lines of the deciduous trees that must have been over one hundred years old and counting.

‘I can’t remember the last time I was out in the country like this,’ she said as the path meandered down and a large hedge loomed before them.

‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘It’s good for us, don’t you think?’

She looked up at him. ‘I do.’ Her face was clear and bright. She didn’t have on any makeup, synthetic fillers, false eyelashes, or expectations. Ever since his divorce, certain types of women were the only ones who approached him. The ones looking for a rich husband who were everywhere in parts of California. Perhaps they were lovely but it was hard to see under the exterior they had created, thinking that’s what rich men wanted. Even his ex-wife had succumbed to fillers and Botox and eating next to nothing. It made him sad when he thought of her once-carefree face and attitude when they met before he became rich.

He found he suddenly wanted to kiss Christa, but then that would mean he’d be crossing boundaries and she would run away and that would be that. She was out most nights, probably seeing someone in town, he assumed. It made him wish he was something more than he was, so she would be interested in him, but she was not interested. She had made it clear she thought him shallow and silly at times. He saw her mouth part slightly and he leaned in a few millimetres.

‘Dad, Christa, Dad, come find us,’ he heard the twins yell, breaking the spell.

‘Where are you?’

‘In the maze. The first one to the centre is the winner; the last one to the centre has to bite their bum.’

Marc saw Christa run to the entrance and she turned to him before yelling into the maze, ‘Challenge accepted.’

Marc put the basket down where Bill was standing. ‘Do you mind looking after this?’

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped into the maze and looked ahead. There was a pathway surrounded by hedges, and all he knew was he had to find Christa who was somewhere inside the walls.