Not Just for Christmas: The perfect Christmas short romance. Alex Brown

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      ‘Oh, you’re such a sweetie. Thank you, darling.’ Deedee gave Kitty a big hug before pulling back and adding, ‘I shan’t hold you up. Cheerio!’

      ‘No problem. Bye-bye.’ Kitty grinned, flipping over the ‘Closed’ sign and opening the door as she waved Deedee off and welcomed the first batch of customers over the threshold.

      Ten minutes later, Bella dashed in to the café with an anxious look on her teenage face.

      ‘I am so sorry, Kitty! Really sorry. Please don’t sack me. It won’t happen again, I promise,’ she said, near to tears as the words babbled from her mouth while she unravelled a bright-red hand-knitted scarf and pushed it into her bag. ‘Dad’s van conked out and we tried pushing it but it was impossible with all the ice down the bottom of the lane, and then we rang April to see if she could come and rescue us, but her Beetle wouldn’t even start, it was that cold, and so I walked the rest of the way and—’

      ‘Hey, it’s fine. Come on, now – it’s not the end of the world,’ Kitty soothed, jumping in and taking her young, part-time assistant’s hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. Bella’s stepmum, April, had often told Kitty how much Bella loved helping out in the café, so Kitty certainly didn’t want her to worry about losing her job just for being a few minutes late. ‘Honestly, it’s no big deal, no one’s ordered anything yet. Here, give me your coat and help yourself to a big mug of hot chocolate. There’s a batch already made in the jug over there. You look like you could do with it – your hand’s freezing.’

      ‘Oh, thanks, Kitty. You’re the absolute best!’ Bella grinned, looking relieved as she pressed her hands to her cheeks to try to warm them up.

      ‘Well, I’m not sure you’ll be saying that once you get started: there’s a mountain of bread waiting to be sliced and buttered over there.’ Kitty laughed, pointing to the end of the work counter where sixteen granary loaves were sitting, still warm in their paper bags, having been delivered from the bakers at the other end of the High Street only moments earlier.

      ‘I’m on it!’ Bella tipped the jug and poured the deliciously steamy hot chocolate into a mug, which she carried to the end of the counter before pulling open the fridge to locate the industrial-sized tub of easy-spread butter.

      ‘Ooh, here we go. You’d better drink that quickly and get buttering,’ Kitty added when the old-fashioned bell jangled above the door, signifying the arrival of more customers trooping in from the cold.

      Later, towards the end of the day, Kitty and Bella had just finished loading the dishwasher for the umpteenth time, when the phone on the wall rang.

      ‘Would you mind getting that for me, please, Bella?’ Kitty was bent over the open dishwasher door, her hands full with two super-sized cutlery baskets.

      ‘Sure.’ Bella quickly stacked the last teacup on the shelf and darted over to the phone. ‘The Spotted Pig Café and tea rooms, Bella speaking,’ she sang, making Kitty smile at her effervescent enthusiasm as she stood up and looked over to see who was calling. She hoped it wasn’t the village school – Teddie had been a bit snuffly last night and Kitty had been in two minds whether to send her today. ‘Yes, she’s right here. Can I ask who’s calling, please?’ Bella said, before listening attentively and then pressing the receiver to her chest.

      ‘He says he’s a friend,’ she mouthed.

      ‘Oh?’ Kitty was curious to know who it was as all her friends had her mobile number, so didn’t usually call on the landline when she was at work. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked casually, mentally crossing her fingers that it wasn’t one of the catering salesmen. They could be very ‘creative’ when it came to attempting to secure more business for their seeded burger buns, or whatever it was they were trying to sell, but she could hardly pretend not to be here, seeing that Bella had already said that she was.

      ‘Oh, um … I’ll just ask.’ Bella grinned as she asked the caller his name. ‘It’s Mack.’

      Kitty froze.

      And promptly dropped one of the cutlery baskets, sending knives and forks flying in all directions.

      Silence followed. They both stared at the tiled floor.

      Then, as if on autopilot, Kitty bent down to retrieve the cutlery, conscious of Bella still staring open-mouthed and motionless.

      Moments later, having let go of the receiver so it dangled on the length of cord leaving Mack hanging on, Bella darted over to help Kitty.

      ‘Here. I’ll tidy this lot up,’ she offered, touching Kitty’s arm as she grappled with an errant spoon that had spun away across the tiles as if deliberately teasing her. ‘You go and take the call,’ she added, sounding very grown-up all of a sudden.

      ‘Oh, um … I’m not sure I—’ Kitty stopped talking, swallowed, stood upright and smoothed down her pinny, willing her legs to walk without wobbling. Mack – real name Chris Mackintosh – was Ed’s best friend, best man at their wedding and the man who was with him when he died, the man who was very nearly also killed. And the last time Kitty had spoken to Mack had been at Ed’s funeral. He’d called a few times since then, nearly every week at the start, to see how she was doing and to ask about Teddie – Ed would have wanted that − but Kitty had found it too painful to keep in touch, so the calls had petered out after a while until eventually Mack had stopped calling altogether.

      And who could blame him? Kitty remembered those days, taking the phone off the hook so as to avoid him, pretending to be out when he’d called at the flat. It had been easier that way. Easier to ignore the nasty little voice inside her head and heart that used to wish it had been Mack and not Ed who’d been blown to smithereens on that day in the desert. Teddie would still have a daddy and they would all have lived happily ever after.

      After inhaling through her nostrils and letting out a long, calming breath, Kitty pushed the thoughts of that terrible time away and picked up the phone. It was different now. The rawness wasn’t there any more. She was OK. She could think about Ed with fondness, remember all the good times, not dwell on the sudden void that his death had created back then. She had worked hard to heal herself emotionally. She’d even been on a few dates over the last year or so and hadn’t felt weird about it at all. Not that any of the men had really been her cup of tea, but she’d had fun. Felt young and attractive, carefree, even. Yes, she was in a good place now. Happy. And talking to Mack wasn’t going to ruin that. It was a momentary shock, a blast from the past, that was all. And it is that time of year. He’s probably just trying to get back in touch, to honour Ed’s wishes and say Merry Christmas. Nothing sad. No bringing back memories of that awful day when the knock had come and she’d answered the door to see the two casualty-notifying officers standing before her with very sombre looks on their faces. And she had known. Known right away. And that was when the screaming had started. Right from her core. So feral and ferocious it had interrupted a wedding rehearsal in St Mary’s Church on the other side of the High Street, bringing the vicar running to see what on earth had happened.

      ‘Hello.’ Kitty’s voice cracked momentarily, but she was able to cover it up with a well-timed cough.

      ‘Is that you, Kitty?’ a deep Geordie-accented voice asked. She closed her eyes. Nodded. And then spoke again more calmly.

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