As Christmas approached, Marie felt quite sad. John was back in Yorkshire leading his new life. She was alone and missed him. She would not be returning to Paris for Christmas this year and whilst she knew why, it didn’t make it any easier to accept. Christmas was so much about ritual and repeating from year to year what was always done. Sometimes the same old same old was comforting. She had not made any arrangements for Christmas and had not received any invitations either. Her son and daughter were visiting their father’s family in Cork. She had contemplated booking one of those single holidays where you met up with other people who had no one to spend Christmas with. Tinsel and turkey in Bournemouth, however, was not very enticing. She had expected John to at least ask her what she was doing. To date she had not even received a Christmas card from him.
She was very disappointed that after their last evening at John’s flat, where they were able to make love, that he was so distant after this event. She felt that she must have been a really poor lover. She knew that John had obviously got a lot on his plate. His move back to Yorkshire to his super retirement village was obviously something which had made her fade into insignificance.
She had always known that Christmas was a very difficult time for single people. There was always so much pressure at Christmas time. When people wish each other a Happy Christmas, are they really aware of how difficult it can be for people who do not belong to conventional families as depicted in glossy magazines. What is a conventional family these days anyway. She knew that many people lied about their arrangements for Christmas as they didn’t want to be pitied. People who spent the day alone were often somewhat sanguine about it. Saying it was just another day really. However, being alone on Christmas day was significant for people who usually celebrated it with family and friends. Marie came to the conclusion that there was little point in feeling sorry for herself and decided that on Christmas Day 2017 she would simply indulge herself. She even wrote a Christmas letter which announced that she would be spending Christmas Day on her own and that she had planned two days of indulgence. She had not invited anyone to join her.
She had ordered Foie Gras on the internet from a place that she knew still made it in the traditional way. She was aware that this is something that she could not admit to many of her Brighton friends. She would go to her favourite Butcher’s Shop in Hove, R.C. Secker on Richardson Road and order the smallest goose that they had and some delicious sausages and beef. She had made a bouche do Noelle. At one point she felt she was being far too indulgent. This did not stop her going to Quaff and ordering a bottle of Bollinger, a very nice Brouilly, some wonderful bottles of Chablis and some dessert wines. Marie gave into her need to indulge and also ordered some Aquitaine oysters. She had also sourced some delicious chestnuts. It was a tradition in her family to serve Dauphinoise potatoes at Christmas time. Marie was also partial to Brussel sprouts. She went to the Cheese Hut in Basin Road to order her cheeses. These included Cashel Blue which was her husband’s favourite, some lovely Brie, Camembert and a Loire goat’s cheese. Christmas flowers were important to her. Her favourite flower shop was Florian in Hove. She loved this shop and ordered several very special bouquets which included holly and ivy.
She bought a small real Christmas tree and decorated it with the baubles which she had gathered from her travels. Her Christmas decorations were never brash and gaudy. White lights only on her tree and lots of very expensive fragrant candles adorned her flat and made it smell so beautiful.
On Christmas Eve Marie went to the Fish Shop at Hove Lagoon to buy her favourite Irish smoked Salmon and fresh Irish Salmon. Later that day she made herself a traditional Christmas Eve supper of oysters to start with, and then poached Salmon with sauté potatoes served with a side of cucumber salad. This had been a tradition for Christmas Eve when Brendan was alive. They had always tried to combine the best of French and Irish traditions. She always missed him most at Christmas. She enjoyed her glass of Bolly and the delicious food.
She went to Midnight Mass at St Peter’s Church. She felt very odd being one of the only people who was attending on her own. She switched her phone off. The mass brought back so many memories of Christmases past. She knew that so many people felt their losses to be rawer at Christmas. She was feeling raw and betrayed by John. He knew she was going to be alone yet hadn’t even had the decency to send a card let alone a gift.
She left the church in silence at the end of the mass and walked to her flat. She had felt so alone as she left the church and watched families greeting each other and wishing each other Happy Christmas. When she reached her flat she saw someone standing outside. She recognised him in an instant.
‘Hello love. Happy Christmas. I have bought you a card and your gifts. Can I come to stay and help you celebrate?’
The fury just rose and she before she could consider how wise it was to say anything she had said it.
‘No you can fucking not! How dare you assume that I am just waiting for you to drop in when it suits you. Now fuck off back to Yorkshire!’
Later she realised that he would be able to stay with his family who lived in Brighton. However, she felt so proud that she had not allowed herself to be as she saw it, abused. She deserved so much more in life. How dare anyone think that they could treat her this way? She would never forget the look on John’s face. She did not think that he really understood why she had reacted how she had. She also doubted that at his age he would ever be able to comprehend what he had done and would always remain somewhat confused by her reaction. She did not feel that she bore any responsibility for his feelings. Someone had said to her once.
‘You make too much of your life about men and their wants and needs.’
She had never really understood this comment. Now she completely got it.
It also struck her that too many women did. Marie felt that men were often a source of disappointment. She wished that when she was a child she had realised that Prince Charming was fixated on finding the foot that matched the shoe and not the personality of the woman who had enchanted him. She knew that Cinderella was an airhead with a pretty dress and great shoes. Marie prized her intellect and certainly didn’t want anyone to take her for granted.