All I Want For Christmas Read online




  All I Want For Christmas

  Susan Willis

  © Susan Willis 2016

  Susan Willis has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published by Endeavour Press Ltd in 2016.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter One

  On Monday morning, Tom Shepherd wandered aimlessly down past Eldon Monument in Newcastle upon Tyne and turned the corner towards the indoor market. The autumn wind made him shiver and he pulled up the collar on his denim jacket then stepped inside. An onslaught of different smells filled his nose as he walked past the fruit and vegetable stand, the cheese counter and the fresh meat stalls. A young butcher’s assistant was shouting his reduced price for pork sausage.

  ‘Come and get it,’ he called, ‘step up and don’t be shy, ladies.’

  Tom grinned and looked up at the old glass-domed ceiling. His wife, Anne, had told him that the market had recently been given a facelift, and he smiled in satisfaction; they’d done a great job. Tom sauntered into the centre of the market and sat down at a table in the open-plan café. There were twenty round tables and green plastic chairs that were half occupied with people drinking coffee and happily chatting. The atmosphere, he decided, held a general buzz of pleasant, friendly activity and he sat back contentedly in his chair, which faced one of the oldest stands in the market – the bookstall.

  Tom loved the people in Newcastle and was amazed at how friendly they were compared to where he’d grown up, in Brighton. After three years he was becoming used to the accent and was beginning to feel less like a stranger in a city where everyone seemed welcome.

  Tom looked across at the nearby book stall and watched a girl in her early twenties sorting through a shelf of books. Even though she had her back to him, Tom could tell she was tall and very slim, with a mass of bright red curly hair that hung down to her shoulders. He stared at her small bottom in tight-fitting jeans as she reached up to place a book on the shelf and sighed with pleasure. Tom loved everything about women − he loved to look at them whatever their shape or size. He loved their sweet, clean smell, he loved the feel of their soft silky skin under his hands, he loved the curves of their hips, and he especially loved the taste of them.

  After his first six weeks of redundancy Tom knew that, like the other men in the Jobseekers Centre, he should be feeling bored, restless and desperate to find another job − but he wasn’t. He’d hated the job examining electrical parts in a factory and had fought the urge to skip happily out of the door on his last day. Working alongside these Northern men had been a revelation to him after his Southern upbringing, and he’d noticed how different their values and beliefs were. Sometimes he wished he could hold the same ones, but felt it was beyond him. Duty, work and fatherhood seemed to loom high on their agenda’s and they dreaded the thought of facing their families with no work only two months before Christmas. But Tom hadn’t given it a moment’s thought because Anne was always there.

  A large, middle-aged woman tapped his arm. ‘I asked if you wanted tea or coffee,’ she said and sighed heavily.

  Tom shook himself and realised the waitress was speaking to him. ‘Oh, sorry,’ he said and turned towards her. He gave her his complete attention and one of his widest smiles. ‘Can I have a coffee, please?’

  She simpered and patted the back of her permed grey hair while lingering with her pad and pencil. ‘Of course,’ she nodded. ‘And would you like something to eat − maybe a pastry or biscuits?’

  ‘Nooo,’ he said, rubbing his hand across the middle of his black T-shirt. ‘I’m watching my figure!’

  ‘Get off with you,’ she chuckled and made her way through the tables towards the kitchen area.

  Tom sighed and returned his attention to the girl at the book stall. Selecting two books from the shelf, she turned towards him and Tom gasped with delight at her beautiful small face and tiny button nose. The red hair framed a flawless complexion and made her look cheeky, impish, and altogether fearless. She stood looking at him, holding the books in one hand with her other in the pocket of her hipster jeans. The jeans were tucked into black knee-high boots and Tom openly gave her the once-over. Starting at her sexy boots and making his way up her body he stared at the grey T-shirt tucked into the waistband of her jeans. The round-necked T-shirt had a zip at the front which was pulled down a few inches to reveal the largest breasts he’d ever seen on such a thin girl. Or, maybe it was because the rest of her body was so skinny that it made them look bigger. Whatever it was it didn’t matter, because he couldn’t take his eyes off the mounds of smooth flesh that looked as though they were straining against the zip, begging to be freed.

  The clatter of a mug on the table startled him and he dragged his eyes away from the girl to see the waitress, who had slammed his coffee down on the table and marched away. He mumbled a quiet thank you and tutted at the coffee circle on the table under the mug. Hmm, he thought remembering the saying, you can’t please all of the women all of the time, then shrugged his shoulders and turned his head back to the girl. Tom sighed with disappointment when he saw that she’d disappeared. He opened two packets of sugar and poured them into his coffee, stirring it quickly, and watching the brown liquid swirl in circles.

  ‘Hey, take no notice of the old grouch,’ a cheery voice said, and Tom looked up quickly to see the redhead standing in front of him.

  He grinned and raised an eyebrow, feeling extraordinarily pleased that she’d walked around from the bookstall to speak to him. ‘Maybe,’ he offered, ‘she’s just having an off day?’

  The girl tilted her head to one side. ‘No, she’s like that most days, but we take no notice of her,’ she said and smiled.

  Tom swallowed hard. Her warm smile came from two perfect, full lips and gleaming white, straight teeth. He remembered seeing a toothpaste poster promoting a California smile once and Tom decided this girl had just that. ‘Oh, right,’ he nodded. ‘Thanks for the tip. I’ll remember that the next time I come to the café.’

  Her eyes danced with amusement as she looked at him and placed one of her small hands on the back of the chair. She shuffled from one boot to the other and with her other hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans, she pulled her shoulders back and tilted her chin.

  This posing action seemed to thrust her breasts out even further and Tom was mesmerised. Did she want to sit down, he wondered, and tried to think of something to say; the last thing he wanted was for her to disappear again. His mouth was dry and he ran his tongue over his top lip. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’ he croaked and cleared his throat to make it sound more macho. ‘That’s if you’re not too busy?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she giggled and sat down on the opposite chair as Tom signalled to the waitress.

  Ellie Ferguson had liked the look of Tom the minute she’d seen him staring at her from the café table. Well over six feet tall and slim with thick black hair, he had startling pale blue eyes and she dreamily likened him to a young Jude Law. He looked a little older than her, but he was certainly the most attractive guy she’d seen in the market café since she’d worked at the bookstall. She
introduced herself and loved the way he seemed to roll her name around his tongue, as though he was trying it out to see if it suited him.

  Ellie told him how she’d finished her English degree at university and how she wanted to be an author. ‘So, I work here every morning and then have the afternoons free to write,’ she said.

  The elderly waitress placed a mug of coffee in front of her and when she turned her back to walk away from the table, Ellie stuck her tongue out.

  Tom threw his head back and laughed at Ellie’s comical face. ‘Well,’ he said, composing himself again, ‘being an author sounds amazing. What are you writing at the moment?’

  Ellie leant forward to take a sip of coffee and he caught a whiff of her light, flowery perfume. It was just enough to entice a man, he thought, but not too heavy to mask her natural girlish smell.

  Ellie swallowed her coffee and felt a lightness bubble up in her chest − the more she looked at him, the more she fancied him – he was simply gorgeous. His eyes seemed to bore into her and she looked down at his perfectly manicured nails and slim fingers that he’d entwined on the table in front of him. No wedding ring, she mused. That didn’t mean much these days, but surely he must have a partner? He was too good looking to be single. Lost in thought, Ellie struggled to remember the question he’d asked and twirled a finger through her curly hair.

  ‘You were telling me about your writing,’ Tom prompted.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she smiled. ‘I got side-tracked there for a moment. Well, I’ve started a novel which is, hopefully, going to be a mystery and a love story. I’ve written the plot and planned my chapters and now I’m looking around for some interesting characters.’

  Tom looked at the long line of her throat and imagined running his lips down the side. Her skin looked so very soft and inviting that he shifted in his seat with stirrings of desire. ‘Hmm,’ he nodded. ‘And where will you find these characters?’

  Crikey, she thought, I’m staring at one right now, but checked herself and took a deep breath. With only two student boyfriends behind her, Ellie wasn’t sure how to be receptive without seeming needy and desperate; she had always failed miserably at flirting.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘they reckon the best way to write character profiles is to look at people. So I spend a lot of time here in the market watching people and jotting down all their little quirks. I write down their appearance, their age, the clothes they wear, and most importantly, their facial features.’

  Tom nodded thoughtfully. A silence settled between them and they both turned their eyes to the old waitress, who was arguing with an old man at the next table about the price of the scone he’d ordered.

  ‘Now she would make a great character if I was writing a horror story,’ Ellie whispered. ‘With that hairy mole on the side of her chin she’d scare me half to death!’

  Tom laughed and Ellie giggled as a few heads turned to look at them and the waitress scuttled away.

  Ellie could tell he was enjoying the discussion and seemed interested. She continued, ‘The market is also a great place to write scenes because you have to use all your senses when you’re writing,’ she said, and then paused. She could tell by the way Tom drew his eyebrows together that he hadn’t quite understood. She leant further towards him and said, ‘You know, our senses, how we see, hear, smell and touch.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Tom nodded. When Ellie leant towards him her breasts were practically resting on the table top and seemed to be only inches from his face. He sighed; it was simply beyond him not to stare and he thought of how she’d used the word, touch. He was struggling to think about anything else. The urge to pull the zip further down was excruciating. Was she doing it on purpose, Tom wondered, and was it a come-on ploy that she regularly used on men? Tom dragged his eyes away from her chest and looked into her eyes. No, he decided, she was too naive and innocent. He could tell it was just her natural, friendly and gullible personality and that she was too young to be aware of how her attributes could affect a man.

  He’s staring at me again, Ellie thought, and glanced down to pick up her coffee mug. She hadn’t been aware of how far down the zip had slipped and when she saw that her boobs were hanging out, she quickly sat back in her chair. She’d been so wrapped up in talking she hadn’t realised and now felt her cheeks flush.

  Sensing her embarrassment Tom decided to change the subject. ‘So, which books do you like to read?’

  A little tongue-tied now, Ellie told him about her favourite books and Tom watched her animated face light up as she talked. Desperate to join in her conversation, but not being much of a reader himself, he thought of the stack of books on Anne’s bedside table at home and the authors she liked. After mentioning a few autobiographies, he told Ellie how his great passion was films and talked about his all-time favourite movies and actors.

  Suddenly Ellie drained the coffee from her mug, and pulled the strap of her bag up on to her shoulder. Tom could tell she was making a move to go and was filled with a rush of disappointment. He didn’t want their encounter to end and felt desperate to see her again. He rubbed his chin and deliberated – would she take fright if he asked her out on a date? Although he was older than her, he’d often been told he looked much younger than his thirty years. He decided to go for it and took a deep breath.

  But before he could say anything, Ellie stood up. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, smiling. ‘But, I’m here from Monday to Saturday, if you ever fancy another coffee.’

  Chapter Two

  On Wednesday morning, at the sound of a neighbour’s dog barking, Tom woke and stretched his long legs down the bed. He gazed around the room at the pale blue painted walls and pine furniture. He’d once told Anne he liked the colour blue, therefore, when they bought the house she’d decorated the bedroom in pastel blue shades.

  Anne had left for work after her usual six o’clock alarm. She did the same thing every morning: turned off the alarm, slid out of bed, and crept around the bedroom collecting her things while trying not to disturb him. She was certainly a creature of habit, he thought, whereas he liked to think of himself more of a free spirit, loving variety in his life. Seldom bored, he preferred his own company to others, unless, of course, it was that of a beautiful woman, and then it usually revolved around sex. Remembering it was Wednesday and his plan to return to the market to see Ellie again, Tom jumped out of bed and strode purposefully into the bathroom. As he cleaned his teeth he looked at his lean, strong body in the full length mirror and smiled. I’ve still got it, he thought, and long may it last, as he made his way into the shower.

  *

  Ellie had been disappointed yesterday when Tom hadn’t come to the market. Of course, he hadn’t said he would return the next day, she thought, but he had seemed as keen as she was to meet up again. Maybe I misjudged the time we spent together and he doesn’t fancy me as much as I do him?

  She shrugged yesterday’s thoughts out of her mind and began to open a box of books that had arrived earlier. Wednesday mornings were always busier than other days of the week as the market closed at one o’clock and many people arrived early to do their shopping. She loved her job and couldn’t think of a nicer way to spend her time than being surrounded by books. Most of the time, when she wasn’t stacking, shelving, or recording their stock, she served customers and enjoyed helping them with their choices. The book stall also ran a ‘borrow and return’ scheme, where people could take a book for 50p. Many of the older people liked this. In between these tasks Ellie would sometimes run her hand along a shelf without looking and choose a book at random. She’d sit on the high stool behind the counter and read the pitch on the back cover, wondering how the author had thought of the plot.

  Ellie was doing just that when she became aware of someone standing in front of her and looked up from the book to see Tom. She gasped at the sight of him and felt the flutter of her heartbeat in the back of her throat.

  As Tom had walked down into the centre of town from his home on the West
Road, he’d wondered if his mind had exaggerated how pretty Ellie was. In the past when he’d met women in a night club and had then met them again in daylight, he’d found his memory had magnified their looks and he’d often been disappointed. Thankfully, he thought, this wasn’t the case today, as Ellie was every bit as pretty as he remembered. She was sitting on a stool with her long skinny legs clad in black thick tights, and was wearing a short green and black checked skirt. An emerald green fine-rib sweater was stretched across her chest, and Tom decided the colour made the vibrancy of her red hair stand out more than ever.

  Tom smiled at her. ‘Time for a coffee?’ he asked casually.

  Ellie uncrossed her legs and slipped as elegantly as she could down from the stool. She spotted a customer enter the stall and hover behind Tom. ‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, ‘that would be lovely. But it would be even better in ten minutes when I finish work.’

  Tom nodded. ‘Great. I’ve got to buy a couple of things so I’ll meet you in the café.’

  He left the stall and sauntered further up to the top of the market as Ellie began to help the man chose a book on tall-ships. The aisles were packed with people and he veered left and right, avoiding young mums pushing buggies, teenagers lounging in front of the tattoo booth, and older people sauntering slowly with their sticks. Hmm, he thought, Ellie was right when she’d said the market was full of people from all walks of life. He whistled a tune and stood in front of the vegetable stall, waiting to be served.

  On Monday the purpose of coming to the market had been to buy the cauliflower and carrots that Anne had asked him to bring home. But of course, after meeting Ellie this had completely slipped his mind and when he’d returned home empty-handed Anne sighed heavily. She hadn’t exactly had a go at him, because she never did, but shook her head and raised her thick, bushy eyebrows towards the ceiling. After they’d married Tom soon discovered Anne was a master of magnifying a small fault into a major transgression, and he knew she’d be tossing this incident around in her mind for days to come.