Finding Love at the Christmas Market by Jo Thomas

Author:Jo Thomas [Thomas, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473573611
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2020-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

‘Wait! Stop!’ William runs around the counter and he launches himself towards the door. A cold chill sweeps in, making me shiver.

He throws himself out into the snowy cobbled street, the dog following. He looks down the road, then back towards the alley I hid in on that first morning. He puts his hands around his mouth and calls, as the snow falls around him, then throws them into the air in frustration.

His head covered with snowflakes, he comes back into the shop, guiding Fritz by his collar to his bed. The warm baking bubble has gone.

‘Who was that?’ I ask, wondering if it was a shop-lifter.

He raises his head and looks at me with sad dark brown eyes. ‘That,’ he takes a deep breath, ‘was my son.’

We finish making the gingerbread hearts and he shows me how to finish my piping and wrap my gifts. But the happy, carefree atmosphere we enjoyed earlier is gone. There is sadness in the air.

‘I have a son too,’ I say, as we’re clearing up.

He nods, as if he’s slowly processing the information. ‘He lives with you?’

‘He did, until he went to university. Now he has a girlfriend and they’re snowboarding together, for Christmas, with her family.’

‘Ah,’ he says, and I’m hoping that means he knows I understand something of how it feels to be separated from the boy he loves.

There’s a silence and I think that’s the end of the conversation. He pipes another gingerbread heart. My mouth is watering.

‘My son lives with his mother. My wife.’ He doesn’t look up, his piping as steady as anything. There’s just a twitch in his cheek.

‘Your wife,’ I repeat.

‘My ex-wife,’ he says slowly, ‘soon to be. She left a year ago now. Just before Christmas. Just after we’d lost the baking competition for the ninth year in a row and she told me to choose between her and my work. I didn’t expect my whole world to come crashing down around my ears, for her to take my son and for him to hate everything I stand for.’

And suddenly the date from the other night makes sense. It was his son who stood him up, not a woman. I feel my heart twist.

He straightens. ‘Like I say, all the right ingredients, but … I came back after my mother died. Settled. Married a girl from the New Town and had my son. All the right decisions at the time, even if they haven’t turned out well.’

‘So, you’re not together?’ I ask dumbly, feeling daft, just filling in the silence.

‘No,’ he says flatly.

I can see the hurt and regret on his face, in his eyes, in the lines around them. ‘She thought I chose baking over my family. That I was never there. Always baking.’

‘And you?’ I say quietly.

‘She stole my dreams and my future when she left with my son.’

He stares at the window, and I turn to look at the little gingerbread house, its warm glow flickering as dawn and daylight finally arrive.

The door opens and the bell rings.

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