through the fair.
There was a huge Ferris wheel at one end, all lit up, with people queueing for a ride.
‘Do you want to go up on that?’ she asked.
He nodded at their parcels. ‘Probably not with this lot.’
But then he saw the carousel. Parents were lifting tiny children onto one of the carved wooden horses, and a fairground organ was playing Christmas songs and Christmas carols. Jamie could see the wonder on the little ones’ faces as they went round and round on the horses. If life had happened the way it was supposed to, Giselle would’ve been nearly three and the perfect age for enjoying this.
He was coping with this. Just.
But then the song changed. To the one he couldn’t avoid. ‘All I Want for Christmas is You.’ The song Hestia had loved so much. She’d even got her ballet class to do a special routine to it…
Cold stole through him, and it wasn’t just the temperature outside now the sun had set. This was a bone-deep thing. The misery was back. Big time.
As if she noticed, she said softly, ‘Time to find dinner. What would you like?’
‘Anything.’
She bit her lip. ‘Sorry. I’ve pushed you too far today, haven’t I?’
‘No. You’ve… It’s helped,’ he said. And it had, until he’d seen the carousel and heard that music, and loss had ripped through him again.
‘When I feel low,’ she said, ‘I pick things that make me feel good. Decent food—not junk, something really nutritious—music, and some fresh air. Let’s go get something to eat.’
Again, she hadn’t pushed him to talk and she definitely wasn’t prying. But the fact that she’d admitted she felt low at times made him realise that she understood how he was feeling right now. So he followed her away from the Ferris wheel and the carousel towards the food stalls.
‘OK. Do you have any food allergies, and are you vegetarian?’ she asked.
‘No allergies, and I eat pretty much anything,’ he said.
‘All righty. We could have Christmas dinner in a burrito,’ she said. ‘Or a calzone with turkey, cranberry and cheese filling.’
‘What would you prefer?’ he asked, suddenly curious.
‘My go-to comfort food is macaroni cheese,’ she said. ‘But I know it’s not the best thing in the world, so I try to mix some greens and some veg in with it, to balance it out a bit.’
‘I don’t notice what I eat,’ he admitted. Since Hestia’s death, he’d seen food just as fuel and not as a pleasure.
‘My best friend made me do mindfulness,’ she said. ‘I thought it was all hype, and I admit I’ve really mocked the stuff where you’re supposed to eat a single raisin and take ages over it. It’s so extreme. But there is a point to it. If you pay attention and notice things like colour and texture and scent, it does help to ground you a bit and it takes your mind off whatever’s dragging you down. It’s a kind of breathing space.’ She shrugged. ‘Plus I happen to know a stall here where they do really, really excellent macaroni cheese.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘sounds good to me.’
‘And I know this isn’t the greatest nutrition, considering how I’ve just been banging on about healthy food,’ she said, ‘but last year there was a stall here that did churros covered in glitter sugar. Which I think would be perfect with a hot chocolate. And I am so planning to have that second one today.’
‘These,’ he said, ‘are on me. Let’s find a table.’
Anna sat thinking when Jamie left her with their shopping and queued up to get their food. That moment when he’d gone all brooding on her by the carousel, when they’d seen parents lifting their small children onto the horses, made her sure that whatever was hurting him was something to do with a child.
Yet every day he worked with sick children. How could he bear it, if it ripped his heart in two all the time?
They barely knew each other, and she knew she shouldn’t push him to talk—especially because then he might start asking awkward questions of his own. Such as why she wasn’t like the rest of her siblings, happily married and having children when she got to thirty.
On the other hand, talking to a stranger and getting a different perspective on things might help him.
Or maybe she should just stop being such an interfering busybody.
‘Penny for them?’ Jamie asked, coming to sit opposite her and sliding a cardboard tray of macaroni cheese with spinach, complete with a wooden fork, across the table to her.
‘My thoughts aren’t worth a penny,’ she said, not wanting to hurt him by being nosy. ‘Thank you. This looks fabulous.’ She took a mouthful. ‘And it tastes even better.’ She noticed that he’d chosen the same.
‘This was a really good choice,’ he said after the first mouthful.
‘Though I’m buying us churros,’ she said. ‘And hot chocolate laced with that cream liqueur.’
‘So do you come to the Christmas fair here every year?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘And it’s got bigger every year. Usually I do it as a girly thing, either with my best friend or my sister and sisters-in-law.’ She smiled at him. ‘So you could say you’re an honorary girl today.’
‘Hence the churros with glitter sugar,’ he said dryly.
‘Wait until you try them,’ she said. ‘I recommend the cinnamon glitter sugar. And I want to go back and get some of the Christmas candles. The ones that smell of orange and cinnamon and cloves—and they’re for me, because I love candles at this time of year. Me, Gorgeous George, a good movie, some popcorn and a candle: that’s a perfect night in.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For pushing me into doing this.’
‘So you’re not hating every minute of it?’ she checked.
‘Not every minute,’ he said. ‘I’ve done my Christmas shopping and the food’s good.’
‘So what’s the hardest thing about Christmas?’ she asked before she could stop herself.
He was silent for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer, and she was about to squeeze his hand and apologise for prying when he said quietly, ‘The music. Certain songs. I…’ He grimaced and shook his head.
‘OK. So we’ll try to avoid music for the future.’ At least until he was more comfortable with other aspects of the holiday season. ‘Can I ask—modern or carols?’
‘Modern,’ he said.
‘I’ll try to remember,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to make this
