Christmas with the Queen

Chapter 3 Jack

Chapter 3

Jack

London, one week later

M y darling wife hadn’t been delayed by a neighbor, or by long queues at the shops. She’d simply been crossing the street, arms full of presents, and hadn’t seen a taxi coming around the corner.

She hadn’t come home—and never would again.

Her life had been taken far too soon, and mine had come to an abrupt halt.

The funeral was a blur—something I participated in but couldn’t fully understand. It inched by, one painful moment at a time. The packed church, the hastily chosen hymns, the hugs and kindness and conciliatory handshakes, the Christmas roses that Mrs. Howard had arranged. Andrea’s usually cheerful nephews with their tearstained cheeks. They were sorry. Everyone was so terribly sorry.

I couldn’t sleep. Guilt and grief tormented me. If I had only gone with her that day, if only I had been the one to cross that street.

It seemed impossible that her vibrant light had gone out, that my darling girl would never smile at me or take my hand again, that I’d never again trace the curve of her lips with my fingertip or feel a rush of warmth as her infectious laughter filled the room. I squeezed my eyes closed against the pain as the memories flooded in, of those first hopeful months when we’d met and fallen in love, our wedding and the bliss that had followed. Our hopes for our future together. The dream of children, of a true home, of our restaurant. It was gone, like a trace of perfume or a puff of smoke, there for an instant and vanished the next as it dissipated on the wind.

I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t know how to go on without her.

I lost hours and days, time becoming liquid. But time didn’t care about my grief. The days peeled away, one by one, just as they always had, just as they always would.

The only thing I’d managed to do was telephone my new boss, to explain that I couldn’t take the job at Sandringham and wouldn’t need the little cottage we’d been assigned on the Sandringham Estate after all. After the call, I disappeared down a well of grief, surrounded by the echo of my sorrow, entirely and utterly lost.

Days passed in a blur until the incessant chime of the doorbell interrupted my pain. When I heard my name being called, I pulled myself from the bed and stumbled to the front door. A figure waited patiently on the other side.

“Jack!” The man shouted my name again, and I knew then it could only be one person.

“Ryan?” I said, as I opened the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

We’d met during the war and had become fast friends. Ryan Harris was possibly the only person I could stand to be around at that moment.

“Good to see you, too!” He threw his arms around me in the familiar bear hug of his that I’d relied on many times before. “I’ve been waiting for you to arrive at mine. I invited you to stay with us for a while, remember?”

“Did you?”

“Yes. After the funeral?”

I shook my head. I didn’t remember much about that day.

“When you didn’t answer the telephone, I thought I’d better check on you. And before you make excuses and send me away, I’m not leaving without you.”

“I don’t have excuses,” I said tiredly. “I don’t have anything.”

“You have me, Jack. Now, are you going to let me in, or what? It’s a long way from Norfolk. You look like absolute hell by the way.”

I showed him into the narrow hallway. “I can’t promise I’ll be much company.”

“You never were.” He offered a tentative smile.

We talked for a while. Ryan had an easy way about him that had always made me feel comfortable. It was good to see him, and I felt guilty for forgetting his invitation, but I just wanted to be alone. The conversation soon stalled.

“Look, I know you’d rather I buggered off and left you to wallow,” he said. “But I’m not leaving you here alone, not with Christmas coming. Not this year, Jack. You need a friend more than ever. Come and stay with us for the rest of the month. Pack a bag. I’ve already booked your train ticket.”

“I don’t know...”

“Spend Christmas with us. Maggie and Ivy love you, Jack, and they haven’t seen you since August. We have a room ready. You can stay as long as you like.”

Ryan and Maggie had lived in Norfolk for years. When I’d accepted the temporary position in the royal kitchens, being near my best friend had been a part of the appeal. “I canceled the job at Sandringham.” I rubbed a hand over my tired eyes, over my mussed hair. “I was going to—”

“Well, we need your help. You know how Maggie hates to cook, and I’m hopeless.”

The thought of the Christmas cheer in their home, the gifts and laughter and love... I didn’t know if I could stomach it. And yet, I couldn’t stand to be here, in our neighborhood, passing the building Andrea and I had hoped would become ours, staring at the door of our flat, waiting for her to come home from work with a kiss and the day’s gossip, the scent of lilac in her hair.

“Come to Norfolk, Jack. There’s nothing for you here.”

As I took in the days-old dishes on the countertop, the Christmas pudding dry and hard as a brick, and the wilting fir tree in need of watering, I squeezed my eyes closed. How could I stay?

“When does the train leave?” I rasped.

“In two hours.”

“Two hours!” I repeated. “Didn’t give me much time, did you?”

“Do you need it?” Ryan asked, voice soft.

He knew me too well. I glanced at my suitcase, still packed for the original planned trip. “No,” I said. “I suppose not.”

Norfolk county formed part of England’s east coast and was about a hundred miles from London. The last time I’d been, lush green grass had carpeted the landscape and honeysuckle vines had infused the air with their sweet perfume. Now, winter had brought its browns and grays, and clumps of melting snow, which did little for my mood. And yet, as the city streaked by and buildings turned to open sky and pasture, I exhaled a deep breath. The houses we passed were quaint and beautiful with their golden sandstone, ribboned wreaths, and festive garlands. Despite the darkening sky, every windowpane glowed cheerily in the gloom. Though the ache in my chest still throbbed, there was something soothing about being closer to nature. Away from the important, imposing bustle of city life. For now, that was good enough. It was all I had.

Ryan’s wife Maggie met us at King’s Lynn station with a tentative wave. At her side, their four-year-old daughter, Ivy, showed me the gap in her smile.

“Uncle Jack, look! I lost a tooth! Daddy said the tooth fairy will leave me a surprise under my pillow tonight.”

In spite of myself, I felt the urge to smile and crouched down to eye level to greet her. “Well, Ivy, I’d say you’re lucky.” I touched the end of her freckled nose with my index finger. She giggled and threw her arms around my neck.

“I’m so glad you came,” Maggie said, kissing my cheek in greeting as I stood again. Her belly had grown round since I’d last seen her; baby number two was well on the way. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I wish I could have attended the funeral.” Ryan had rightly protected his family from the train delays and, more importantly, the deadly fog, by asking them to remain behind in Norfolk. “Andrea was such a dear woman.”

Pain gripped me at her name, and all I managed was a hoarse “Thank you.”

Relieved the requisite condolences were behind me, I followed them to the car.

We drove the short way to Ryan’s modest cottage, had a simple meal of stew and fresh bread, then settled on the sofa with a brandy while Maggie wrangled Ivy into bed.

As Ryan finished stoking the fire, his brother, Mason, joined us. Mason was a chef, too, though he’d advanced at a decidedly faster pace than me. He’d worked in the prestigious kitchens at Buckingham Palace for the past two years and had clearly made himself indispensable enough that he’d been chosen to join the select group of kitchen staff who traveled to Sandringham for the Christmas holiday. It was through him that I had first become aware of the opening at Sandringham for a temporary chef.

“Jack. It’s been a while.” Mason shook my hand. “Good to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were better.”

“That makes two of us. How’s work?” I asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from another litany of “I’m sorry”s.

He swirled the brandy in his glass and took a sip. “Hectic. Half of the kitchen staff are out with the flu. We’re really behind on the Christmas preparations. We’ve sent for two others to join us from London, but we still need more hands.”

His unspoken words hovered in the air between us: that I’d bailed on the job, albeit with good reason, and had made their situation worse.

“I know Max would have you in a heartbeat if you changed your mind,” Mason added.

And then my gaze flicked to Ryan. When he wouldn’t meet my eyes, I realized he’d not only invited me to stay for Christmas as a gesture of kindness, but also to tempt me back to the role at Sandringham.

“You think I should take the job, don’t you?” I said.

“It could certainly help to distract you a little,” Ryan said. “Besides, Andrea would hate to see you miss this opportunity. Who knows where it might take you.” He took a drink. “Of course, it’s your choice. That’s all I’ll say about it. I’m here for you either way.”

I sank into the cushion on the armchair, his words washing over me. He was right. Andrea wouldn’t want me to give up on this opportunity to expand my experience and skills, not after I’d worked so hard. Taking a job with the royal family was a chance to enhance my reputation, and, more importantly, might be a stepping-stone to eventually owning my own restaurant. Still, I found it hard to muster even the faintest interest in anything.

I sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I can.”

Mason gave me an encouraging smile. “If it becomes too much, you can always walk away.”

I looked at Mason, thoughtful, as firelight flickered across his face.

Ryan leaned forward. “I really think you need this, Jack.”

Again, he was probably right. I could see Andrea’s face alight with excitement when I told her I’d been offered the job. I could hear her, urging me to take it, not to stand still. I sat quietly for a moment, gazing into the glowing embers of the fire. “ Do it for me, Jack. Do it for us, ” her voice echoed in my ears.

After a long moment, I drained the rest of my brandy, and looked up. “What time should I arrive?”