Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall by Kate Forster

13

Christa walked through the maze, occasionally hearing the boys yelling out for each other or crowing like birds.

There was something eerie about the dense foliage and the scent of the rain from the night before that made her feel nervous but excited.

Marc was somewhere near. It thrilled her, like her own little private game.

She turned a corner and saw the leg of one the twins disappear ahead, then heard the crunch of gravel next to her behind the hedge.

She was silent and stopped walking. Was it a twin or was it Marc?

She started to walk again and turned right, coming to a dead end.

Why did she feel so nervous?

There was running and crowing from the inner part of maze while she turned right again and came to a small marble statue of some sort of goddess. Turning right again, she came to the fork in the paths. Which way?

She paused and then went right again. She had seen something on a television show years ago that if you ever wanted to get out of a maze, you had to keep turning in one direction. It could be right or left but to exit you had to stay committed to one direction.

She could hear the boys yelling. They were in the centre and she heard the sound of feet on the path next to her again.

Another fork and she waited.

To leave the maze she should turn right.

She turned left.

And there was Marc at a dead end.

She smiled at him, feeling her heart beating faster.

His gaze captured hers and he smiled in return. It was a lazy, sexy smile that she found truly knee-buckling.

‘Are you lost?’ he asked and she could have sworn he was flirting with her.

‘Nope, are you?’ She returned his sassy tone.

God they were flirting – so silly. Perhaps it was just in fun but Marc was looking at her in a way that she knew would get her into trouble.

‘Should I leave?’ she asked.

‘Please don’t,’ he said.

Christa thought about what the next few weeks would be like if anything happened with Marc. There was a flirtation but he was teasing her, like he probably did all women. Men like him could have supermodels, actresses, heiresses. She would be nothing more than a Christmas fling and she would still have to cook for him.

God no, she thought, and she laughed at him.

‘Last one to the centre has to bite the other’s bum, remember.’ She turned and walked in the opposite direction.

‘Christa.’ She heard him say her name but she kept walking towards the sound of the boys in the centre.

What would she have done if he’d kissed her? What if she had kissed him? What if she was mistaken? How embarrassing would it have been?

She worked for him. So many rules broken – it would have been a workplace disaster.

A phone rang and she heard him answer, saying Adam’s name. Saved by the bell, she thought as she finally came to the centre, finding the boys looking into a pond with little fish darting about.

‘There you are,’ she said.

‘Hey, I have to head back to the house – work emergency,’ Marc called.

‘Bye,’ yelled the boys but Christa said nothing. It was better that way, she decided.

Keep it strictly professional. That’s what she had always told the staff at Playfoot’s. She and Simon never showed affection in the kitchen at work. It was professional and respectful at all times. In hindsight they probably took it too far when they brought that energy home as well but it was done now.

Christa and the boys found their way out of the maze, using her one direction theory, to where Bill was sitting patiently on a bench with the picnic basket and Meredith the dog next to him.

‘Right, next stop please,’ said Christa wishing Marc was still there but also grateful he wasn’t. As they followed Bill through the garden, she began to think the conflicting feelings were a real pain.

Ahead was a large greenhouse, the glass shimmering in the sun.

‘A greenhouse,’ exclaimed Christa as they came closer. ‘It’s lovely.’

‘One of only three like this in the country,’ said Bill proudly. ‘It used to be heated by coal but Mr Ferrier got us some solar panels and some natural heat so we have all sorts of things growing inside.’

They walked through the greenhouse while Bill pointed out the ferns and the tropical plants, including pineapples and even an avocado tree that was bearing fruit.

After the greenhouse tour, they sat inside and ate the lemon cake Christa had made and drank cups of hot cocoa that she had packed in a thermos with cups.

‘This is the best time ever,’ said Seth, a little chocolate moustache giving him a look of Charlie Chaplin.

‘And Dad came and everything,’ said Ethan and Christa wondered how they could be happy with less than an hour of his time.

Her own father wasn’t a saint but when he became sober, he’d spent time with her. They went fishing, sometimes he would take her on bus trips to places she wasn’t familiar with, or they would go window-shopping in Bond Street just for fun. He would watch television with her or read the paper while she did her homework. His company was enough.

After they said their farewells to Bill and Meredith and promised to be back, they walked back to the house, where Christa could see Marc standing in the kitchen doorway watching their return.

She wondered what could have been so important that he had to leave them for Adam but she wouldn’t ask. She was setting up professional fences, she reminded herself as she kicked off her wellingtons and slipped on her sneakers.

‘Let me take the basket,’ he said, as the boys ran around to the front of the house.

‘All fine, I have it, said Christa with a firm smile and she pushed past Marc and into the kitchen.

‘It was a shame you didn’t stay. I saw your pineapples,’ she stated as she started to unpack the basket onto the bench.

‘My what?’

Christa laughed. ‘The greenhouse has pineapples and avocados.’

Marc looked guilty. ‘I don’t see Bill’s work enough.’

Christa said nothing as she tipped the remaining cocoa down the sink.

‘Do you think I am a total idiot, a spoiled man who doesn’t know what he has?’

Christa rinsed out the thermos. ‘I don’t think anything about your decisions,’ she lied.

She heard Marc pull out a chair and sit at the table. She wished he would go away. He was distracting her and she needed to think about what was for dinner and if she should go into town for eggs.

‘I told Adam to ask Paul to get some eggs when he was in town, as I saw we were out,’ Marc said.

Dammit, he was thoughtful and observant at times. Then she remembered he was moody and quick to judge. Had Simon set the bar so low that she was impressed by even the slightest act of service?

‘Thank you. I was going to get some, but that’s good of you to organise,’ she said.

Christa opened the fridge and saw all the food going to waste and it annoyed her so much, thinking of the children at the food bus the night before.

‘There is a lot of food here that’s going to go to waste,’ she said. ‘I need to cook with it or else it will have to go in the rubbish.’

Marc wasn’t listening. He was staring at his phone.

‘Perhaps I could donate it to a food kitchen or something?’ she said, as though the idea had just come to her.

Marc didn’t look up. ‘Fine, sounds great. I have to find Adam. Issue with work.’

He stood up, still looking at his phone and left the kitchen, while Christa watched him go.

She had told him. He had agreed. While she wasn’t completely sure if he had actually heard her or not, he had given her permission to cook the food and that was enough for now.