Page 56 of The Merry Christmas Project

There was a moment’s stunned silence down the phone. Behind me Astrid gave a chuckle.

‘Categorically no,’ came the stern reply. ‘I’ll do it when I come and fix the lock.’

‘Fine, I’ll leave it on the floor for now,’ I said, insulted by the implication that my handiwork wasn’t up to scratch, ‘but don’t worry about the lock, it’s already mended.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ he said amused, ‘you walloped that with your boot too.’

‘Of course not,’ I replied haughtily. Which wasn’t strictly true, I had hit it a few times but to no avail. ‘I poured some eucalyptus oil inside the mechanism and wiggled the handle. Works a treat and smells lovely. There you go, saved you a job.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’ll be taking you on as an apprentice soon. Anything else I should know about ?’

‘Just one thing. I could do with borrowing a ladder; a couple of the bulbs are flickering and I want to change them before they stop working. I tried stacking two chairs on top of one another, but I’m still not tall enough.’

There was a gale of laughter from Astrid.

‘You did what ? Merry, have you got a death wish ?’ said Cole in disbelief. ‘I will bring a ladder when I come and do that whiteboard. In the meantime, promise me you won’t clamber up any chair towers or hit things with your shoes.’

‘It’s a deal.’ I was smiling as I ended the call.

Astrid raised an eyebrow. ‘It is good that you get on with your landlord so well.’

‘It is. I’m very lucky. So far he has proven very useful indeed.’

‘Useful ?’ she pulled a face. ‘That is not a word to set the heart racing.’

I felt my face grow warm under her scrutiny. My heart did race even at the thought of phoning him. There had been a moment yesterday when he’d asked if I was single when I thought he might be going to ask me out, but the moment had passed. I wasn’t going to admit my feelings for someone new to Astrid unless I had concrete proof that they were reciprocated. I might be back on an even footing with Daniel, but the fear of rejection was real.

I helped myself to a still-warm mince pie and changed the subject. ‘Oh my word, Astrid, this is heavenly !’

‘Really ?’ She beamed. ‘I’m so pleased. I’ve made a new friend at Rosebridge and he told me that since his wife died, one of the things he misses the most was the smell of her baking.’

‘Oh, that’s sad,’ I replied. ‘The power of our sense of smell is very underrated. An aroma can transport us back in time so vividly it can trigger memories we thought we’d forgotten.’

Mum and I had never made mince pies, but we had made jam tarts. Just the smell of Astrid’s was enough to remind me of the fun we’d had and the sticky mess I’d created when I’d dropped a jammy spoon onto the floor. What I wouldn’t give for one more day with her, the questions I’d ask her : who were you, Mum ? Where was your family, my family ? You made sure I was safe, but what about you ? Why didn’t you seek help when things became unbearable ?

‘Mince pies were his wife’s speciality. I thought I’d surprise him with these. Mine won’t be as good, but at least I’ve made the effort,’ said Astrid.

‘He’ll love them,’ I said, ‘and if he doesn’t, you can always bring them round to me.’

For the next hour or so, Astrid gave me a helping hand while Otto slept peacefully under the table. There was plenty to do and it made a lovely change to have a colleague to chat to. She prepared the wicks and jars for twenty-five of my peony and sandalwood candles and I melted the wax and added the fragrance oils.

We had to leave the wax to cool down before pouring, so after I’d thrown a toy for Otto for a few minutes, until he flopped down again, I propped the whiteboard up on a chair and picked up a marker pen.

‘Here are my three main jobs,’ I said, drawing three cloud shapes on it and labelling them. ‘The Wetherley Christmas festivities culminating on Christmas Eve, the Christmas Fair at school, and Merry and Bright direct orders.’

Astrid smiled proudly. ‘When I think back to that little teenager who thought she’d never amount to anything.’

I nodded, remembering my early teenage years. I’d had little confidence in myself and I used to wonder what was wrong with me that no one wanted me to be their child. How I’d yearned to be adopted, to have adults who loved me. It was only years later, in adulthood, that I’d learned how few teenagers were successfully placed in permanent homes. It wasn’t about me, it was about would-be parents preferring younger children.

‘You told me I could be anyone I wanted to be,’ I replied, squeezing her hand. ‘For a long time, I didn’t believe you because I didn’t believe in myself. But now I feel like I’m finally becoming the person I want to be.’

‘Oh, Merry.’ She put her head on one side. ‘You were already that person, you don’t need to change. The people who really love you, love you just as you are.’

‘That is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,’ I smiled, genuinely touched. But the fear of rejection was so deep-rooted in me that I couldn’t quite believe it was true.

Daniel’s rejection had been the latest in a long line. Even though he’d said lovely things about me and assured me that this was about him and not me, the end result was the same. I was still alone. The only way I could be part of a family was to create one of my own. And if that meant packing away the more chaotic and spontaneous aspects of my personality, then that was what I would do.

‘The Christmas Fair is going to test me,’ I said, bringing my focus back to the whiteboard. ‘I’ll have to squeeze production in around my other orders.’