The Christmas Spirit Page 5

  At Sugar and Spice Natalie was baking Christmas cakes. She thought she’d introduce Christmas gradually. Some people didn’t like Christmas shoved in their face until the traditional twelve days before, but others, like herself, would happily have Christmas music playing and Christmas decorations up all over the place from the beginning of the month. In the past Natalie had done just that in her own home. Today she’d chosen a chocolate and cinnamon Bundt cake and sliced it up into generous, but not off-putting slices. Already she had formulated a list in her head of how her Christmas cakes would roll out right up until Christmas Eve. She hoped they would be a hit with the bakery’s clientele and was sure Mrs Williams wouldn’t mind, as long as the bakery was making money. Natalie had also brought a holly wreath with her for the shop. As she’d passed the garden centre on the way home the night before, she’d seen a sign saying ‘Holly wreaths £10’, so she had decided that would be Sugar and Spice’s first Christmas decoration.

  The doorbell chimed and a woman came in, shaking snow off her boots. There had been a light dusting overnight which had turned heavier that morning. As a result, the bakery had had few customers, although it was still early. Natalie vowed if it continued like this, her Bundt cake wouldn’t go to waste. She would give it to the homeless, or those selling that magazine, The Big Issue.

  ‘Morning,’ the woman greeted Natalie. She seemed the hearty type, and the fact that she had braved the weather conditions when most wouldn’t bore testimony to that.

  ‘Good morning. What can I get you?’ Natalie asked. Jacob was out of the bakery for a few minutes, as Natalie had asked him to go and buy some newspapers since their delivery hadn’t arrived. Mrs Williams always displayed the newspapers on a rack, so that patrons could pass the time reading whilst they ate and drank their purchases.

  ‘I was wondering if I might ask a favour? We’re selling raffle tickets for the old folks’ home and pensioners’ club. Would you be interested in buying some?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Natalie. ‘How much are they?’

  ‘A pound each for a book of five.’

  Natalie took three pound coins from her purse and gave them to the woman, a well-meaning sort.

  ‘Thanks ever so much. Could I impose a little more and ask if you’d mind trying to sell them in the bakery? It would mean ever so much to the old folks if they could have a Christmas party. There was no money in the budget this year, hence the fundraiser.’

  ‘Sure. How many do you have? I can take fifty books of five to start. Do you have a contact number and I’ll let you know if I need more,’ Natalie said.

  The woman, who then introduced herself as Cathy, was delighted and readily handed over the requested number of raffle tickets. ‘That really is marvellous. You’ve been such a help. Here’s my number.’

  Natalie took the piece of paper offered her and then said, ‘Just out of interest, what do they do at the pensioners’ club?’

  ‘Well,’ said Cathy, ‘they play dominoes, cards and bingo, they read and do the crossword, and they have lunch there, as well as being read to from that day’s newspaper and using the headlines as talking points.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Natalie said. ‘Do you have any leaflets on it?’

  ‘Yes, I do, somewhere.’ Cathy rooted around inside the voluminous pockets of her Barbour jacket and brought out a small sheaf of pale green flyers. She passed one to Natalie, who quickly read it. It reiterated everything Cathy had just said.

  ‘Perhaps your raffle will do better if I put a leaflet up inside the café, too. The club sounds very good. We get quite a few elderly people in here. It could be right up their street.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. I’m terribly sorry,’ Cathy glanced at her watch, ‘But I’m late for picking up my granddaughter. It’s been nice talking to you, and good luck with the tickets.’

  ‘Thanks, and I think we’ll manage to sell all the tickets,’ Natalie confided to her.

  ‘Good, good, well, must crack on,’ and she was gone.

  Jacob returned just then with a selection of newspapers. He asked Natalie if she wanted to read one whilst it was quiet, but she said no, she was off to work on another idea for a Christmas cake. Jacob just shook his head. He couldn’t work out what all the fuss was over Christmas.

  ‘Nice holly wreath, by the way,’ Jacob noted.

  ‘Oh, I saw them for sale near my cottage last night, so thought it might help spur us on with the start of the season.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Jacob replied, unconvinced. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Putting up a leaflet about the pensioners’ club and old folks’ home. We’re going to be selling raffle tickets for them.’

  ‘Well, I’ll have a book of five,’ Jacob said, when Natalie had finished explaining to him how it worked. ‘I’m a bit low on cash right now to buy any more, but I’ll do my best to shift the others.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. Right, what do you think?’ Natalie asked, as she stood back to admire the green leaflet she’d just put up.

  ‘Prominent, no-one will miss it there.’

  ‘Good, that was the plan. Oh, here’s another customer.’

  Interestingly, it was Stanley.

  ‘Good morning, Stanley, come in and sit yourself down. You must be frozen.’

  Jacob observed the old man; he did look very stiff, and moved with some difficulty.

  ‘I needed some essentials, bread, milk, that kind of thing. I’d completely run out.’ What he didn’t add was that whilst he was out and about, his heating could be on low and save him some money. The fuel bills were becoming increasingly more difficult to manage and he’d begun wearing two jumpers on a day like this, over his thermals.

  Natalie helped him off with his coat, which she hung up for him.

  ‘Here, sit at this table, next to the radiator,’ she suggested.

  Slowly, Stanley lowered himself into the chair.

  ‘Now, what can we get you?’

  ‘I’d love some tea, please, and what cakes have you today? You had so many different ones the other day when I was in.’

  ‘Jacob, could you make Mr Winters some tea, please?’

  ‘Coming right up.’ Jacob hopped to it. Poor old man. Jacob dreaded the thought of getting old. Mr Winters looked as if everything was a real effort.

  Natalie never forgot a name. Jacob didn’t know how she did it, but he found it quite charming, caring, and he envied her a little. He tried his best to remember everyone’s name, but without meaning to be rude, many of the elderly people looked the same to him. They all tended to wear the same type of clothes and the women often had similar haircuts and even colours.

  Replying to Stanley’s question about the cakes, Natalie beamed at him and said, ‘I’ve just made a cinnamon and chocolate Bundt cake. Would you like to try it? It’s the first of my Christmas themed cakes,’ she explained.

  ‘Well, yes, that sounds very nice, thank you.’

  ‘Would you like a newspaper over?’ Natalie asked.

  ‘Yes, thanks. Which ones do you have?’

  Natalie explained the choices and Stanley chose a well-known broadsheet which covered most of the table.

  Happy that he appeared warm enough and content, Natalie returned to behind the counter to prepare his cake. She passed Jacob, who was bringing out his tea on a tray.

  ‘There you go, Mr Winters.’ Jacob set the tea in front of him, complete with silver sugar bowl and a ceramic milk jug.

  ‘Thanks, son. So, are you enjoying your job, then?’

  ‘I am, thanks. Everyone’s been really nice and Natalie,’ he winked at him, ‘is a sweetheart.’

  ‘Yes, she has a lovely way about her.’

  ‘She does, doesn’t she? Well, I’ll leave you to your paper. Oh, would you like to buy a raffle ticket for the pensioners’ club?’

  ‘What’s that, son?’

  Jacob pointed to the leaflet behind Stanley’s head.

  Stanley turned, ‘Oh, I don’t have my reading glasses on. What does it say?’r />
  So Jacob read it out to him and noticed the expression change on Stanley’s face.

  ‘I didn’t know we had such a thing in Winstanton,’ Stanley said. ‘It sounds very good and what a pity they aren’t going to have a Christmas party. Of course I’ll buy a raffle ticket.’

  Stanley was too proud to admit that he didn’t really have the money. He bought two books of tickets.

  ‘So you don’t go to the club, Mr Winters,’ Jacob stated.

  ‘No.’

  ‘It sounds quite good, though, good place to meet people and they have lots of activities by the sounds of it,’ said Jacob, taking an interest in the old man. He’s lonely, Jacob thought. He wondered, as he had begun to do about people since working at Sugar and Spice, what the old man’s story was.

  ‘Yes, it does. Does it say which days they meet?’ he asked Jacob.

  ‘Erm, let me see. Yes, every day, by the looks of it.’

  ‘What about how much it costs?’ Stanley asked next.

  ‘Doesn’t say,’ Jacob confirmed after scanning the leaflet, then rereading it thoroughly. ‘I’m sure we could find out for you.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you to any bother, son.’

  ‘It’s no problem. We’re hardly rushed off our feet today, are we?’

  Stanley glanced around the almost empty café; he was their only customer.

  ‘Well, that’s true. I suppose no-one wants to come out in this foul weather if they don’t have to.’

  ‘And who can blame them?’ Jacob said, as he put away some cutlery. ‘Let me just ask Natalie if she knows.’

  He returned a few minutes later.

  ‘Natalie says she doesn’t know but she has the phone number of the lady who was fundraising for them. She’s going to give her a call.’

  ‘Oh, I’m being such a nuisance.’

  ‘Not at all. How’s your cake?’

  ‘Delicious,’ Stanley said after devouring another mouthful. ‘I’ve never had this bun cake before.’

  ‘Bundt cake,’ Natalie corrected him gently as she came into the café. ‘I’ve just spoken to the organiser and she says it’s every day and it’s free if you’re over seventy-five.’

  ‘Well, I definitely qualify for that,’ joked Stanley.

  ‘It’s next to the old folks’ home. They have a separate wing which houses some rooms where the club is set up.’

  ‘Well, that gives me something to look forward to, then,’ Stanley said between mouthfuls of cake. ‘This really is lovely, hen.’

  ‘Thank you, I’m so glad you’re enjoying it. It means I’m doing something right,’ Natalie smiled at him.

  Stanley drank his tea, deep in thought. Maybe he would try out the club. Nothing to lose really. He hadn’t really had many friends of his own, by the time Edie died. Most of his friends had preceded Edie to the grave; it was terrible to be one of only a few left. Maybe he would have something in common with the people there. Edie would have urged him to go, if she was still here.

  By the time Stanley was leaving, the bakery had only had a sprinkling of customers. He asked for his bill and then called Jacob back, as he said it was incorrect.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, let me check with Natalie.’

  ‘No, son, I mean you’ve charged me too little. You haven’t charged me for the cake.’

  ‘Oh right, give me a minute.’

  Jacob came back and said, ‘Natalie says you’re the first to taste her Bundt cake and guinea pigs get it free, so it’s just the tea you’re paying for today.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very kind.’ The old man’s face lit up. Sometimes people’s kindness made him a little emotional.

  Stanley left the bakery feeling so much brighter, stronger and full of purpose than when he had woken up that morning. He’d never liked winter much anyway, despite his surname, but as he aged he liked it even less, and now with his Edie gone, he downright loathed the season. He didn’t even have her little warm body to cuddle into at night.

  He made up his mind to check out the club the next day, unless he was snowed in. Edie would be proud of him.

  There was still the usual mad rush at lunchtime, as workers came in to get some cake and takeaway coffee, but Natalie saw a definite dropping off in the café clientele, presumably due to the weather. No matter, they’d recoup any downturn later, she knew. For now, she simply had to allow her plan to gain momentum.

  At two fifteen, after the lunchtime rush had come and gone, the door chimed to reveal an immaculately dressed woman with knee-high black leather boots with what Natalie presumed to be a four inch heel, and a sable coloured coat which if Natalie hadn’t known better, she would have thought was the real thing. The woman, whose alabaster skin tone almost matched the snow outside, regarded the empty café with disdain and gave an audible sniff, as she pulled off her leather gloves.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Natalie asked, her usual broad smile on her face.

  ‘Yes, a latte and a slice of carrot cake,’ she barked, without so much as a please.

  Taken aback by her tone, Jacob raised an eyebrow at Natalie, out of the woman’s line of sight.

  Natalie smiled and said, ‘To go or to sit in?’

  The woman regarded Natalie as if she was a cretin and said with a hint of scorn, ‘To go,’ as if nothing could be further from her mind than having her coffee and cake on the premises.

  Not to be beaten, Natalie persisted. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before.’

  Rolling her eyes and irritated by the assistant’s small-talk, she declared, ‘That’s because I’ve never been here before.’

  ‘Oh right, and you chose today, in this terrible weather to give us your patronage for the first time. How nice of you.’

  The woman narrowed her eyes at Natalie, then said, ‘Not by choice, I assure you. My damned assistant called in sick with flu; useless girl. She usually fetches my order.’

  ‘Ah, you mean Sophie,’ said Natalie, ‘Lovely girl, sorry to hear she’s unwell. I hope she feels better soon.’

  Cruella, or rather, Meredith, stared at her. How did this woman know Sophie? Perhaps, she thought uncharitably, Sophie had been spending more time than she should in the café.

  ‘Yes, well, she’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh nothing serious, then. That’s a relief.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but we have a big presentation tomorrow, so she’ll be in if she wants to keep her job.’ Meredith dropped the coins on the counter when Natalie mentioned how much it was and without waiting for her change, stalked off.

  ‘I can’t believe Cruella was here!’ said Jacob, as they watched Meredith’s figure retreat down the street. ‘Charming, wasn’t she? Sophie wasn’t wrong there, then.’

  ‘Ah, it’s not always that simple,’ Natalie said sagely. ‘An angry and unhappy woman. Who would like to be her?’

  ‘Not me, that’s for sure,’ said Jacob.

  ‘So, are you going to help me eat this Bundt cake, then?’ Natalie arched an eyebrow at Jacob, her cake slice at the ready.

  ‘Why not? They’re hardly beating a path to our door, and Mr Winters enjoyed it.’

  ‘Ah, he was just being kind. Lovely old man. I think he’s lonely. His wife died earlier this year. Christmas must be a hard time for him.’

  ‘That’s a shame and yes, I imagine it won’t be easy for him this year. Does he have any family?’

  ‘I didn’t get that far. One of the elderly ladies mentioned it in passing just after he left last time.’

  They sat down to eat their cake and drink their tea, both hoping Stanley would go to the club and find some company.

  Meredith sat back down at her desk, fuming. Bloody girl, and flavour of the month over at the bakery. She barely tasted her carrot cake; she was so wound up. Afterwards, she remembered the array of delicious cakes in the bakery and resolved that occasionally she would go herself. It would give Sophie time to fax something or print off another report. She, Meredith, could get out of th
e office and stretch her legs, choose one of the other cakes. She scarcely had time to remember her own name most days, never mind spend ten minutes deliberating over which cake to choose. She could have and perhaps should have sent one of her other minions out to get her order, but the truth was, she hated delegating. She only trusted Sophie to do things right. Meredith continued to batter the keys on her laptop as if they were her mortal enemy until her receptionist announced her final meeting of the day.

  Chapter Ten

  6th December

  Sophie felt terrible. Her whole body felt like it had gone into shutdown. She could barely move yet that bitch, Meredith, had made it quite clear she had better be there for the presentation today. She was much worse than yesterday but she couldn’t afford to lose her job, so she dragged herself out of bed, stood under a hot shower for a good twenty minutes and then applied enough makeup so that she couldn’t be mistaken for someone in their death throes.

  ‘I see you’ve graced us with your presence,’ Meredith said sarcastically, turning on her heel, expecting Sophie to follow. Sophie shot Meredith a look which could have killed her if she’d turned around.

  As Sophie took off her coat, Meredith barked instructions at her. Generally Sophie was like a sponge and could absorb multiple details with ease, but today she was fuzzy and her brain felt woolly. She had difficulty just functioning, yet Meredith was doing her usual, rat-a-tatting orders at her. She felt like telling her to f** * off, but stopped herself just in time, but oh how satisfying it would be. If only she didn’t need this job...

  Stanley stood outside the old folks’ home, unsure, now that he was here, that he would be brave enough to go in. He was a shy man really, and what if they were all nuts? What if it was full of people with mental illness and degenerative diseases? Naturally he felt for them, but he wasn’t at that stage. He didn’t want to go to use the toilet and find a woman sitting with the door open and her pants around her ankles. His decision was soon made for him as Cathy, the fundraiser, arrived behind him and said, ‘Here for the club, are we? Good stuff. In you go, you’ll have a great time. Angus and George will be there already, if I’m not mistaken; always the early birds.’