A Whirlwind Marriage

‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean,’ Marianne said softly.

‘You make the most of each day, love. That way you won’t ’ave nothin’ to reproach yourself for. Me an’ my ’arry, we packed a lifetime of lovin’ into a few short months, an’ I’ve no regrets. There’s not many as can say that, eh?’ the tiny old lady said with a cheeky grin.

Marianne smiled back, although she felt more like howling, but one thing had clarified in her head. She was right to let Zeke come tonight, however things turned out. Like the little old lady’s beloved Harry, no one could measure up to Zeke. He was a one-off, and if they didn’t get back together again she would have to face living life alone for the rest of her days.

She’d do it—she gave a grim mental nod to the silent declaration—but she didn’t want to. Oh, how she didn’t want to.

‘Mrs Perry?’ Mrs Polinkski had come bustling across to Marianne’s till as her other daughter came to take over the lunch-time stint. ‘You won the raffle, dear. Did you know?’

‘Did I?’ The rosy red cheeks expanded further as the little woman beamed at Mrs Polinkski. ‘Well, I never. First time I’ve won a raffle in me life.’

Mrs Polinkski glanced at the giant hamper on display at the front of the supermarket and then back to the diminutive elfin figure in front of her, and said kindly, ‘I’ll call Wilmer and he can take you home in the van,

Mrs Perry. There’s a nice fresh turkey to go with it, you know.’

Marianne glanced at Mrs Polinkski—the turkey hadn’t been part of the prize but was typical of the generosity of the other woman; Mrs Perry was a favorite among the Polinkskis—and smiled. People could be so nice.

‘A turkey?’ Mrs Perry was clearly enchanted. ‘By, this’ll be a Christmas to remember all right. I’ll call in an’ ask me friend, Ada, to come for Christmas dinner, an’ we can make a party of it.’

‘You do that,’ Mrs Polinkski said cheerily, ‘and a very merry Christmas and happy New Year, Mrs Perry.’

The warm glow Mrs Perry’s good fortune gave Marianne continued for the rest of the afternoon, and when—at just gone three—Mrs Polinkski gave her a very generous Christmas box in the form of a cheque, and told her she could leave early, she didn’t need telling twice.

She could put the bedsit to rights before Zeke came, she told herself as she hurried along the frosty pavement, although no amount of tidying or titivating could make it other than what it was. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because she was going to see him tonight!

She knew she ought to curb the fierce surge of pleasure and excitement that had been mounting all afternoon but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t, and anyway—it was Christmas. Everyone was allowed to hope and dream at Christmas, after all, and even though she knew she might be building her hopes on shifting sand, it couldn’t quell her happiness.

This would be the first Christmas Eve they had spent with just the two of them, she realised as she neared the house. And it also might be their last. She didn’t like the cold little voice of reason that seemed determined to pop up at the oddest moments that day, and she was frowning as she dived into her handbag for her keys.

And then she remembered. Zeke had them.

Oh, great. She glanced at the shutter window of the charity shop and sighed. Wonderful start. She hadn’t given the keys a thought, not even when she had asked Mrs Polinkski to keep an eye open for Zeke and to send him along.

There was just the merest chance someone from the charity shop might be sorting stock in the spare room on the landing, although she doubted it. Nevertheless, she rang the bell on the off chance, and then gasped out loud a moment later when Zeke’s voice said, ‘Yes, who is it?’

‘Me.’ And then she added hastily, ‘Marianne. It’s Marianne, Zeke. But what are you doing here at this time?’

‘I could say the same to you,’ the rich dark voice said back. ‘It isn’t four yet, is it? Not by my watch anyway.’

‘I left early.’

This was ridiculous—standing in the freezing cold on her own doorstep talking to the occupant of her bedsit!

The same thought must have occurred to Zeke, because in the next moment the door whirred and clicked open and then she was running up the stairs, quite unaware of the brightness of her eyes.

He was standing in the bedsit doorway as she reached the landing and she noticed he was dressed casually in an open-necked charcoal-grey shirt and trousers. She would have liked to pretend she was oblivious to the dark, virile masculinity, but the wild racing of her blood said otherwise. Nevertheless, she managed a fairly composed, ‘Hallo, Zeke,’ as he smiled at her.

The surprise of finding him there coupled with the excitement she was trying to hide made her work on automatic as he waved her past him into the room beyond, but she had taken no more than two or three steps when she came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening and a sense of unreality taking hold.

The dingy little room was transformed. A small Christmas tree complete with tinsel and baubles and twinkling lights stood on the table, the battered tabletop hidden by the gaily wrapped parcels covering it. And that wasn’t the least of it.

In one corner of the room a TV was relaying an afternoon carol concert at some cathedral or other, the strains of ‘While Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night’ filling the air waves. Marianne stared at it incredulously, too amazed to speak or move.

In the limited kitchen area boxes of groceries stood waiting to be unpacked, along with several bottles of wine, a small turkey, two enormous one-inch thick steaks, and cartons of mushrooms, tomatoes and other fresh produce.

A large bowl of fruit and another of mixed nuts stood either side of the little gas fire, which was casting a warm glow into the room, and with the fading light outside the small bedsit had gained a cosy cheerfulness it could never aspire to in the harsh, searching light of day.

‘Zeke?’ She turned to face him, utterly bemused, and as her eyes met his she could find nothing to say, not even thank you. She just couldn’t believe that he had done all this for her; taken time away from his precious work schedule and the thousand and one things which claimed his attention to be here.