Last Christmas (7 page)

Ella stopped daydreaming about the possibilities of her second date with Fergus and jumped into the shower. She washed her hair, exfoliated, and shaved her legs. Although she knew she wouldn’t have her legs on show tonight and definitely didn’t want to sleep with Fergus so quickly, she did it for peace of mind, so she would feel sexy. She hopped out of the shower and once dry, applied some cocoa butter to her legs and put on her make up. She switched the radio channel from Classical to Radio 1 which was more upbeat and appropriately trashy to get ready for a date. She opened her wardrobe and chose a deep orange polo neck dress that was figure hugging. She searched for some tights at the bottom of her cupboard and hopped about trying to put them on quickly under the dress. She gave her hair a once over with a brush, smoothing the static that popped up when she put on the tight polo neck and chucked the brush back on her bed. She grabbed a long black coat and a pair of black-heeled boots and headed for the door.

*

Fergus was waiting for Ella outside Greenwich station wrapped up in a sheepskin jacket and a maroon wooly scarf. She was seventeen minutes late.

“I am
so
so
sorry Fergus! I completely lost track of time when I was painting.”

“That’s okay. Hello.” They kissed on the cheek.

“Hello,” she said with a smile.

“You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you,” Ella said shyly sinking her head a little further into her polo neck.

“My pleasure. I bought us some mulled wine. I could smell it around the corner and could do with the warmth! I hope you like it?” He passed her the polystyrene cup and Ella raised her glass for a toast.

“Mmm it smells delicious, thank you. I’d love to know how to make mulled wine.” Fergus took Ella’s mulled-wine-free arm and started walking out on to the road. “So am I allowed to know where we are going yet?”

“Not quite. It’s only a short walk away so you’ll find out soon Ella.”

Ella loved the way he said her name. The l’s rolled off his honeyed tongue and somehow made her name sound longer than it was.

“Okay then Mr. Mysterious. If you’re going to play a game, then I’m allowed to too.”

“That sounds fair,” he said cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking on the tube that we really don’t know that much about each other, yet. And since this is the third time I’ve seen you in what …” Ella counted the days on her free fingers, “four days, then I think I should know how old you are at least!
So
, I have ten questions I want you to answer.”

“Gosh! Have we not been through those preliminary questions? Age, birth place,
gender
?”

“No we have not,” Ella said as she rolled her eyes at his last suggestion.

“Okay, fire away!” he said while dodging a cluster of people on the pavement. Ella caught a glimpse of sheet music, a bucket and awful hats; carolers, they
must
be carolers she thought before returning her thoughts to the barrage of questions she was about to fire at Fergus.

“Right, first things first. Number one; how old are you?”

“Thirty four.”
Perfect
.

“Number two; where are your family from?”

“Hampshire.”
Lovely
. “But from Scotland originally”.
That’s
where
the
red
hair
in
his
beard
comes
from
.

“Number three; what is your favourite band?”

“Oh really? Are you going to ask me that? Guess …” he said teasingly.

“No, you are not doing the questioning. Answer me please,” Ella said in mock anger.

“The Rolling Stones,” he said chuckling.
Not
bad
.

“Number four; which country have you enjoyed traveling most?”

“Hmm. I’d say Spain, Barcelona in particular.”
Barcelona
,
hmm
.
Been
there
so
many
times
with
Robbie
…

Ella had spent a lot of time in Spain with Robbie, Spanish being one of the many languages he spoke, and she couldn’t help but remember their escapades around the city. She took the last sip of mulled wine and then put both of their cups in the bin that they passed on the left hand side of the pavement.

Ella tore her thoughts away from Robbie and thought about her next question.

“Number five; what book are you reading at the moment?”

“Ernest Hemingway’s
For
Whom
the
Bell
Tolls
.”
One
of
my
favourites
.

Ella nodded her head approvingly.

“Number six; who are you closest to?”

“My sister.”
Sweet
.

“Number seven; who’s your role model?”

“My father.”
Even
sweeter
.

“Number eight; what is your favourite cuisine?” Ella asked while playing with his hand.

“Middle eastern.”
He
couldn’t
have
answered
better
.

“Hmm okay.” She thought of another question to ask while taking his left hand in hers. But suddenly she felt something cold on Fergus’ hand. She looked down and saw there was a gold band on his wedding finger. Her heart stopped
. Is he married?

Fergus looked at her, urging her next question.

“Err, number nine; what is your idea of a perfect weekend?” she mustered, trying to process this potentially earth-shattering piece of information.

“Oh, doing the crossword over a lazy breakfast, reading, walking along the river. Old man stuff.” She hardly heard his reply and was looking at the floor now.

Have the last few days been a total lie? How have I not noticed the ring before?

“So I count nine questions Ella,” he stated confidently, unaware of her brewing anxiety. “You’ve got to make it a good one!”

Ella stopped walking and looked up at him.

“Um, I don’t want to dampen the mood but, but I’ve just noticed you’re wearing a wedding ring … are you married?”

Although she tried to hide it, the pain in her face and voice was clear.

“Wow,” Fergus chuckled. “That’s some tenth question,” he said looking at the gold ring.  “I forgot to take it off before I came back.”

A wave of nausea washed over Ella and her eyes widened. “You’re married and you’ve been dating me?” she asked angrily.

“No, no Ella. You misunderstand me. I forgot to take it off before I came back from abroad,” he said casually. “When I go to photograph a war zone, or if I’m doing a travel piece, I wear a wedding band.”

Ella stood in confused silence.

“There’s no way of saying this without sounding like an absolute idiot but, well, I get a lot of attention out there. Ex-pats, journos, writers … they all like a drink or two and because it’s a lonely life and a small world, when someone new comes into town they always get hit on.”

It was a mad explanation but for some reason Ella trusted Fergus. She didn’t doubt for one second that he was telling the truth and knew in her heart that he didn’t have a secret wife stored away somewhere.  The feel of the cold ring against her hand had just shocked her and made her realise how much she liked him.

“What, so you wear the ring to ward off beautiful predatory women?” she asked mockingly.

Fergus laughed again. “Exactly. I know it sounds ridiculous but out there it means I get some privacy. I don’t like being hunted …”

He grinned as Ella raised her eyebrows at him.

“What can I say Ella, women are drawn to me,” he said as he shrugged his shoulders playfully.

“Oh are they Fergus?” she asked flirtatiously.

“Some men can’t help it.”

“Well for some reason I don’t b—” Before Ella could deliver her witty repartie, Fergus had grabbed her around the waist and was kissing her passionately on the lips.

“Sorry,” he said, drawing apart from her. “Come on, let me show you what we’re doing tonight.”

Chapter Six

“He took you to the planetarium?!” Libby exclaimed, so loudly that people in the restaurant turned their heads.

“Yes, it was absolutely incredible,” Ella said as she took a sip of Sauvignon Blanc. “He booked us a night tour. I didn’t know you could even do that. We had the place to ourselves and an astronomer explained how to use the telescopes and ran us through so many beautiful satellite photographs from mission probes! It was breathtaking.” She spoke so fast her excitement was obvious.

“God he is such a smooth operator!”

“Ha ha. He is. A gentleman too.”

“So you’ve had two dates since you met at mine?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s crazy. He must really like you – and I can tell you like him because you’re about to deny it!” she said while preparing another mouthful of quinoa, avocado and pancetta salad. “And you’re pushing your food around your plate like you have no appetite and that, Ella, is not like you.”

“Oh okay Sherlock. I like him. I really like him,” she confessed guilty. “I mean the last two days have been sensational, and the planetarium! Wow. I had mentioned something about liking astronomy at your party when we all went into the games room.”

“When you came back from your patio kiss?” she teased.

“Yeeess,” Ella said in response. “I had told him about an article I had just read in the
New
Scientist
about signs of life on other planets and that’s why he knew I’d like the planetarium.” Ella ate a mouthful of pasta and then continued to talk about Fergus.

“He’s not really like anybody I’ve met before. He’s nothing like Robbie.”

Libby dropped her forkful of avocado. Ella hadn’t mentioned Robbie’s name since January. She was at a loss as to what to say. “No, he’s really not,” she said finally. “You know that’s the first time you’ve said his name to me since January the 2nd when you vowed never to think or speak of him again.”

“I know. I just wasn’t ready before. I was so hurt. It was too painful to talk about him or even acknowledge his existence. But that was ages ago now and I’ve moved on.”

“Well that’s great Ella. I never wanted to push you to talk about him when you clearly didn’t want to. But I’m glad you feel like he’s in the past now.” Libby smiled and waved to the waiter to get his attention. She wasn’t convinced that Ella was completely over Robbie or the break-up, but she didn’t blame her. After all, they had been together for six years and been through so much together. They had bought a house together, dealt with the loss of both of Ella’s parents at the same time, and then he had just left her, not because he had stopped loving her but because he had wanted different things from life.

But what did it matter if she still held a flame for him? Robbie was half way across the world and Ella wasn’t in any danger of seeing him again anytime soon. Libby was glad Fergus had come into Ella’s life with these swooping romantic gestures and adventurous dates just in time for Christmas.

“So where is he taking you tonight?” Libby asked, changing the subject.

“Well I thought
I’d
be the one to choose tonight’s dates after he’s planned such lovely evenings.”

“And where are you taking him?” Libby said as she handed over her debit card to the waiter with the card machine.

“Let me give you some cash Libs,” Ella said as she reached into her black leather bag.

“No no, it’s my treat – a well done for your exhibition. I insist.”

“Oh thank you! The exhibition is so close now, I’m getting nervous,” she said.

“No work talk please. I have had
the
worst week dressing the stars. Tell me where you’re taking him!?”

“Oh okay,” she said chuckling. “I’m taking him to Shoreditch House. He said he’s never been before and whilst its no planetarium, I am a member and it’ll be fun. Plus I have managed to book out the private bowling lanes! I was so lucky no one else had already.

“So it will be just you two and a barman?” Libby asked.

“And sexy bowling shoes.”

*

Ella was sitting on the floor amongst her paintings when Fergus rang.

“Hello?” she said.

“Good morning. I just thought I’d continue this week’s tradition and ask you on another date.” Ella couldn’t help but let the smile on her face spread from ear to ear.

“You haven’t had enough of me yet? Even after you saw what an atrocious bowler I am?”

“I might have had enough of your bowling but I haven’t had enough of you.” It was a cheesy reply, but with his rough smoky voice, Fergus sounded sexy and somehow he pulled it off.

“Well what do you propose for our fourth date?”

“How about you come to mine for dinner?”

“Dinner? An ordinary date? Fergus you ought to be ashamed!” she teased him. “Will dinner be ‘impulsive’ and ‘adventurous’ enough for you?” As she heard him laugh at the other end of the phone there was a tinny sounding knock at her front door. “Oh one minute, I think Mark’s here to help me transport the paintings to the gallery. I’m going to have to go Fergus, but let me know what time you’d like me to come over and send me your address.”

“Okay will do. Good luck with all the wrapping.”

“Thanks, see you later! I’m looking forward to it.”

“As am I.”

Ella let Mark in and put the kettle on to make him a cup of tea. Mark worked for Triangle Gallery transporting paintings to and from venues. Today, he had offered to help Ella move all of her paintings to the Beat Gallery. They discussed how the paintings were going to fit in his van and how many trips it would take while they sipped down the warm brew. They spent the whole morning wrapping all of Ella’s paintings carefully in foam and bubble wrap and the afternoon scuttling between Ella’s studio and the Beat Gallery, which was only thirty minutes down the road. The weather had taken another colder turn and the roads were beginning to ice over a bit, causing their journeys to take a little longer.

On the final return trip back to Ella’s studio, light snowflakes began to fall. Ella looked out at the delicate flakes mesmerized and thought about the evening ahead of her. Tonight she was going to Fergus’ house and she had a feeling she might be staying the night. Although they had only known each other for less than a week, after four dates Ella felt ready to take that step with him.

The car pulled up outside her studio and Mark’s voice startled her out of her daydream.

“Good luck with tha exbition Ellah,” he said in his cockney accent that was so strong that Ella thought it could not be a hundred percent genuine. “Let me know ‘ow it goes afterwards.”

“I will Mark. Thank you for all your help today. You’ve been such a star!”

“No worries luv. Now be careful wit tha ice.”

Ella closed the van door behind her and walked to her front door. The snow that had fallen was so light it wasn’t settling. Ella wished that just once the snow in London wouldn’t melt as soon as it touched the dirty city streets.

She stepped into her studio and went straight to the bathroom to prune, prep and groom herself for the approaching date.

*

Ella arrived at Fergus’ flat in Islington at seven thirty with a bottle of Rioja in hand. He greeted her at the door with a kiss and ushered her in, taking her blue mohair coat and hanging it up on his coat rack. Underneath her coat, she was wearing a long-sleeved black silk dress that had a dipped neckline, emphasizing her cleavage. Her hair was swept off her face into a short ponytail exposing her neck. This was the first time Fergus had seen Ella dressed in something more revealing than winter polo necks and coats. His expression reflected her outfit’s success and she blushed at the way he looked at her. He took her in his arms, placed his arm around the small of her back and kissed her on the lips.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes I am. Can I help with anything?”

“Well actually yes, you can help with a lot.” He had a suspicious grin on his face.

“Okay,” she said nervously. “Show me to the kitchen.”

They walked through a large Victorian living room with a beautiful open fireplace. The walls were adorned with black and white prints from floor to ceiling and two comfortable looking grey sofas were positioned in an L shape around the fireplace. On the left of the fireplace was a medium-sized Christmas tree covered in red and gold glittering baubles. Ella stopped to admire the wooden carvings of angels and reindeer, which hung delicately on the smaller branches. On the top of the tree was a striking dove with a long glistening tail, perching where the star normally went.

“Come on,” Fergus said, prompting Ella to follow him into the kitchen.

To her surprise, there was a short, dark-haired Mediterranean man in the kitchen, standing over the cooker.

“Ella, this is Luigi. He is going to be our teacher tonight. We’ll be cooking some authentic Italian food.”

“Oh wow. It’s lovely to meet you Luigi,” Ella said as she shook the chef’s hand. “Fergus this is an amazing idea.”

“Not bad for a ‘normal’ dinner date eh?” he asked mischievously, walking around the kitchen island to organise the pile of ingredients which stood on a thick wooden chopping board.

“Not bad at all,” Ella replied.

“Ima gonna teach you ‘ow to make Italian winterr dishes.
Arancini
, deep fried balls ofa risotto,
Sicilian
fish
soup
and
Polpette
di
pollo
, which is chicken ameataballs in rich tomato sawce.”

Ella was besides herself. “Incredible.”

“He’s also given me a recipe for mulled wine, which we could make after. You mentioned you’d love to know how to make it when we went to the planetarium.”

“Oh Fergus.” Ella was lost for words. This man was so thoughtful and clearly listened to everything that came out of her mouth. “I’m totally bowled over by your kindness. You’ve put so much thought into all our dates it’s, it’s …” Ella was truly stunned for words.

Fergus walked around the island and gave her a kiss on the lips.

“It’s all been so fun to organise for you.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She could feel that Luigi didn’t know where to look, while the couple had their moment of tenderness. He turned back to the cooker and stirred one of his pots.

Ella cleared her throat.

“Is mulled wine an Italian dish?” she proposed to Fergus. “I though it was British?”

“Ah it’s a British tradition to drink it at Christmas, but wine was first recorded as spiced and heated in Rome in the 2nd century.”

“Ah yes, the Romans. Where would we be without them? I have no doubt Luigi has a smashing recipe for it.”

Fergus and Ella spent the evening laughing, tasting and questioning Luigi about Italian cuisine as they attempted each dish.

Ella was particularly good at making the arancini, skillfully forming the round balls of pistachio, cheese, tomato and oregano in a layer of risotto that was cooked in white wine and Parmesan. Luigi demonstrated how to roll each circle in flour and breadcrumbs carefully so that no rice was peeking through. They set the balls aside to be fried later while they made haste on the soup.

Luigi set Fergus to work on the chopping, while he showed Ella how to fillet the fresh fish. The broth was made with fennel, onions, chilli, and garlic and once this concoction had been simmering for some time and the onions were soft, they added passata and butternut squash. The dish came to life when the wonderful colours of the salmon, halibut, langoustine and parsley were all thrown in. As it bubbled away, the flavours doubling, Luigi fried the arancini. They ate the risotto balls that oozed with melted Parmesan and oregano as a starter and gently stirred the soup while discussing the next dish.

They blitzed the bread, olives, capers, garlic and Parmesan in the blender and then added the chunks of chicken and an egg to bind the mixture together. Once rolled into small balls, they placed them in the oven to cook.

As they watched the meatballs brown, they sat down at the table, to feast on the soup that was light and tangy.

“This soup is absolutely delicious Luigi!” cried Ella.

“It’s wonderful!” said Fergus.

“Justa wait ‘til you try the meataballs! Save some room ah?” Luigi set to work on the tomato sugo while Ella and Fergus enjoyed their soup and talked about Christmas traditions.

“Stockings at the end of the bed or hanging on the fireplace?” Fergus asked.

“Oh always at the fire place. We used to scramble down stairs at hourly intervals throughout the night to see if they had been filled!”

“Gosh I remember that excitement as a child. You said ‘we’, do you have siblings?”

“Yes I have one older brother, called Jimi.”

“Don’t tell me he’s named after another singer? Jimi Hendrix?” Fergus asked with a wry smile.

Ella chuckled. “Not that I know of. He was christened James, like my father.”

“Ah I see. So how do you spend your Christmas with your family? Do you go back to your parents house still?” he asked, tilting his bowl towards him to scoop out the last of the soup. Ella knew as soon as he asked that question that she would have to tell him that her parents had passed away. It was a conversation she dreaded having, not least because no one ever knew how to react to it but because it was just as painful to say it out loud now, as it was when it happened.