Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall by Kate Forster
20
The sound of the twins laughing echoed down the hallway as Marc walked towards the kitchen.
Could he hope that Christa had stayed?
As he pushed open the door that was already slightly ajar, there she was.
Wearing a cream woollen knit and pink lipstick, she glowed as she served the boys strawberries and fresh yogurt on their pancakes.
‘Morning,’ she said cheerfully and he caught her eye and saw her smile at him like she had before this all happened.
‘Mom’s back,’ said Seth, his mouth full as he spoke.
‘And she brought a total douche with her,’ said Ethan as Christa turned away from them, trying to stifle laugher.
‘Don’t say douche,’ said Marc half-heartedly.
‘Pancake? Scrambled eggs and bacon? Omelette?’ she asked as she turned on the coffee machine.
Marc walked behind the kitchen bench and came to her side, taking down two cups from the cupboard above him and placing them on the bench.
‘You stayed,’ he whispered.
She was silent but he felt her hand on his, lingering for a moment, as she took a cup before making him an espresso.
‘You look beautiful today,’ he said. ‘The pink suits you. I also like your pink coat when you wear it – it makes me happy.’
She blushed and handed him the coffee. ‘Someone once told me I looked like a blancmange when I wore it.’
‘I don’t know what that is but I am assuming it’s not a compliment, and I can guess who said it,’ he said, shaking his head.
As though he’d summoned the devil, the kitchen door opened and Avian waltzed in wearing exercise clothes and a smug expression.
‘We went for a run,’ she announced, checking the watch on her wrist. ‘Five miles, pretty good considering we have had zero sleep.’
Simon staggered through the door behind her, gasping for breath.
‘Here comes slow coach,’ said Avian. ‘He’s on a diet. He needs to lose weight so I am working with him to get him camera-ready. You can’t be fat for TV – the camera puts on ten pounds.’
Christa’s back was to them but Marc saw her shoulders square defensively.
‘So, he has to lose weight so he can eat food on TV?’ he heard her say. ‘That sounds ironic.’
‘Yes, it is ironic I guess,’ said Avian as Christa turned around and Marc saw his ex laugh a little at Christa as she looked her up and down.
‘Babe, can I get an egg-white omelette with wilted spinach, thanks,’ she said and sat at the table, glancing at the boys.
‘Pancakes? I hope that’s a treat and not every day.’
‘It’s not,’ said Ethan.
‘Yesterday we had French toast made with… Christa, what was the bread?’
‘Brioche,’ she answered with a sweet smile at the boys. ‘With caramelised bananas and whipped cream.’
Avian made a disgusted face. ‘Can you not feed my children that crap?’
‘Hey, Ave, don’t call it that, and it’s their holiday so they can have some treats,’ Marc said.
‘I just don’t like sugar, or carbs,’ Avian said looking Christa up and down. ‘They make you fat.’
Marc wished they could go back to before Avian and Simon were here, when it was just him and the boys and Christa.
‘Mom, do you want to come and see the chickens after breakfast?’
‘You might see some of your birdlike friends,’ he heard Christa mumble to herself and he tried not to laugh.
‘Chickens? No thanks. I thought we could go into town and you can choose your Christmas presents.’
The boys looked at each other and Marc was sure he saw a hint of disappointment.
‘Finish your breakfast, kids, and I’ll go down with you. I wanted to see more of the garden anyway.’
Avian was already on her phone, tapping and scrolling like her life depended on it while sipping hot water that she had demanded from Christa.
Simon was sitting at the table now, his breath recovered.
‘This is funny – seeing you here, Christa. Never saw you as a house chef. Must be good pay.’
Christa put two plates of egg-white omelettes in front of Avian and Simon, which looked as appetising as a bowl of drool.
‘Perhaps if you hadn’t cheated me out of my share of Playfoot’s, I wouldn’t be here,’ she said and Marc glanced at her.
‘Don’t be bitter. My parents invested more than us – they deserved a bigger pay-out.’
Christa went to the stove and plated up pancakes and bacon for Marc. She handed it to him and then looked at Simon. ‘I am not speaking to you about this here, or at all, actually. It’s done.’
Marc sat opposite Avian and he noticed she looked at his breakfast with a longing he had never seen during their marriage.
‘Do you want some?’ he asked, cutting off some bacon and pancake and dipping it in syrup. He held it out on the fork for her to taste.
She shook her head and took a forkful of her omelette.
‘No thank you,’ she said, but he saw she watched every mouthful he took.
They ate in silence, including the boys, who seemed to read the room and figure out that this wasn’t a group meant to be together for any amount of time.
Paul walked into the kitchen and looked around. ‘Nope,’ he said, turning back around and then Marc heard him call, ‘Adam, we’re going out for breakfast.’
Christa was banging pots and pans about the sink when Peggy came in the back door and took off her coat.
‘Morning, all,’ she said and then looked at Avian and Simon.
‘You must be the boys’ mother. Hello, Mrs Ferrier, I am Peggy, the housekeeper.’
Avian didn’t look up from her phone. ‘Great, can you get me some tampons, organic preferably, and get me a hairstylist to come to the house for the dates of the twentieth, twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth, and twenty-sixth. The water here screws my hair so I will need it washed and dried every day.’
Marc looked at Peggy. If he could have taken a picture at that moment, he would have titled it, ‘Disgustedly astonished in situ’.
He saw that Christa noticed it also, and she was hiding a smile.
Peggy looked at Marc as though waiting for permission and he gave it, nodding slightly.
‘I don’t buy women’s intimate health items and I do not believe there will be a hairdresser who will give up their Christmas and Boxing Day for you. You can try but I don’t know anyone here who can assist you with that. I am the housekeeper; I am not a concierge. Though if you can’t wash and dry your own hair by now, I am happy to give you a lesson. A woman your age should know these basic life skills. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go and supervise the window cleaners.’
She turned on her heel and left the kitchen, with Avian’s jaw flapping in shock.
Marc handed her the fork with some bacon and pancake on the end, dripping in butter and syrup.
‘Taste?’ he coaxed and Avian, unthinkingly, took the fork and ate the food, chewing slowly.
‘Who the fuck was that?’ she spluttered at Marc.
He stood up from the table and pushed the plate towards her to finish it off.
‘That was Peggy, the one woman you don’t want to make a bad impression on, but sadly I think that horse has bolted.’
‘Christa, boys, let’s see what Bill has in the garden for us today, shall we? You in?’
The boys jumped up and ran to get their coats and hats, while Marc took Christa’s pink puffa from the hook and held it out for her to slip her arms into.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she turned to face him and he smiled at her.
He still wanted to kiss her and he wished this Christmas was over, but this time it was for different reasons.
‘Come on, Dad, let’s go,’ yelled one of the boys, opening the kitchen door, and the cold air came inside with a rush.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, recovering from his moment with Christa. ‘First one to the maze is the winner.’