Text copyright © 2014 Katie L Thompson
All Rights Reserved
Preview Extract: Sally's Christmas Cupid
“What is it, Cupid?” Sally called.
She followed the barking to the front door where Cupid was sitting on the doormat, wagging his tail back and forth, making a shiny patch on the parquet flooring.
Through the frosted glass panel on the left side of the door she could just make out a fuzzy figure dressed from head to toe in blue.
“Who’s that?” Sally asked Cupid, who’d stood up to press his nose against the frosted glass to get a better look. They weren’t expecting anyone.
Sally opened the door to see a tall, slim man wearing a blue trench coat with gold buttons and smart blue jeans. Although she hadn't seen him many times in the three months that she’d lived next door to him – he worked night shifts and usually slept through the day – she recognised their neighbour immediately. The dark haired man would be easy to pick out wherever you were. He was tall enough to stand out in a crowd and, even wrapped up in a thick trench coat she swore, she could make out the outline of his muscles underneath.
“The postman delivered this to the wrong address,” he indicated the box in his hands.
She blushed. It was stupid really. She was a thirty-something year old woman and she was blushing like a love stuck teenager. “That must be my baubles, I ordered them weeks ago.” It was the first time in years that Sally was holding the Christmas dinner at her house. Usually they all piled into the car and went to the in-laws. After breaking up with her husband – soon to be ex-husband – Sally had planned on spending Christmas alone, until her mother had broken her arm and claimed that she was unable to cook. Her mother had been living at Sally’s sister’s house ever since, and so it was thought only fair that Sally was in charge of the Christmas dinner this year. How much of that was her mother making sure that her darling daughter didn’t spend Christmas alone as she wished, Sally didn’t know.
He handed her the parcel and looked as though he was getting ready to leave.
“Why don’t you come in? I’ve just taken some mince pies out of the oven.”
He looked down at his watch, and Sally knew he was about to turn down her offer.
“It’s Christmas, I’m sure you must have time to have a mince pie with your neighbour and her dog.”
Cupid wagged his tail as if to show that he was the dog she was talking about. If he kept it up she’d have to add ‘Polish the hall floor’ on her list of things to do before Christmas.
He looked down at his watch again and nodded. “Sure, a mince pie sounds great.”
The minute he stepped over the threshold, Cupid was between his legs, weaving around them as if they were the poles at Crufts and he was aiming to win the competition.
“Cupid, away!”
Cupid ignored her, if anything he began to run faster.
“I’m sorry about him. I always said that he needed to be trained as a puppy but no one listened.”
“How old is he now, then?”
“One. I guess he is still a puppy, but I think it’s a little late to change his ways.”
He made a “hum” noise but said nothing else.
“Sally,” she held her hand out to shake his.
“Jason,” he shook her hand, “and, you must be Cupid.”
Cupid licked his hand as a confirmation.
“The mince pies are in the kitchen, go and sit in the living room and I’ll bring some through. Would you like a drink or something to go with it?”
“Coffee would be great.”
Despite her instructions to make himself comfortable in the living room, Jason followed her into the kitchen.
Sally blushed. She could see his eyes moving around the room. The pile of clutter on the sideboard seemed to have doubled in size and had spread onto the windowsill, the kitchen table was crammed with stuff except for a small area at the far end which was just big enough for a single placemat and the sink was full of that morning’s dishes – including Cupid’s dinner bowl. With Jason’s tall frame standing in the corner the room looked even smaller and even more cramped than it had to start with.
She busied around the kitchen whilst Jason stood in the corner watching her every move.
Sally filled a mug with water out of the tap, added a smidgen of milk and popped it into the microwave. “The kettle broke the other day,” she mumbled. That was another thing on her list of things to-do before Christmas, ‘Buy a new kettle’, it was between ‘Decorate the Christmas tree’ and ‘Stuff the turkey’.
The ping of the microwave distracted Sally from the shopping list she was making in her mind. If her family wasn’t so picky it’d be easy. Most people would be perfectly happy with roast turkey but not her family. They needed to have one of those seven bird feasts, or whatever it was called, Sally still couldn’t remember which birds were meant to be included and in what order. If she put a robin in the centre instead of a woodcock her mother would never forgive her.
“Excuse me,” she said to Jason, who was studying the Christmas cards hanging from a ribbon along the tops of the cupboards with more attention than was strictly necessary.
Sally wiggled past wondering whether she’d be better off to push the table against the far wall. It’d give her more space and it wasn’t as if she needed room for four people to sit around the table.
“Should we go through to the living room,” she asked, after making sure that the coffee granules had well and truly dissolved into the liquid.
Jason nodded.
He’s not very talkative, is he? Sally thought.
“You haven’t decorated your Christmas tree,” Jason announced, as soon as they walked through the living room door.
“No, I haven’t got round to it yet and you’ve just delivered the baubles. You can’t have a Christmas tree without baubles.” Sally decided not to tell him that she had plenty of baubles in the loft and that the only reason she’d bought new ones was that the old ones didn’t fit in with the colour scheme of her new living room.
“Mine’s been up for ages,” he said. “My mum always used to say there’s no point having a tree if you don’t have a kid. In my case, I am the kid. I love Christmas and all the little bits and bobs that go along with it.” Jason put his coffee down on the table between the sofa and the chair – she was pleasantly surprised to see that he’d put it on a coaster. He picked up a thread of lights from where she’d left it on the side after checking that all the blubs worked and replacing the ones that didn’t – which had been most of them. “Do you mind if I–”
“Not at all.” Sally was glad that someone was taking the awful task out of her hands. As a child every year her mother had insisted that they decorated the tree together, it was sort of a tradition, and she hated it.
Jason put his mince pie down on the windowsill so that he had two free hands to untangle the lights and drape them around the tree in some sort of organised fashion which took him more concentration than Sally would have put into decorating the whole tree.
“My dad always did that bit for us. We were too short to reach the top of our tree. Of course, mine’s a bit smaller than the one we used to have.” Sally mentally kicked herself for bringing her father into the conversation. Any minute now Jason would start asking her personal questions about her family and she’d have to tell him that her father had passed away – something she still didn’t think she’d be able to say out loud without crying, although it had been about a year and three months since his death.
All Rights Reserved
Preview Extract: Sally's Christmas Cupid
“What is it, Cupid?” Sally called.
She followed the barking to the front door where Cupid was sitting on the doormat, wagging his tail back and forth, making a shiny patch on the parquet flooring.
Through the frosted glass panel on the left side of the door she could just make out a fuzzy figure dressed from head to toe in blue.
“Who’s that?” Sally asked Cupid, who’d stood up to press his nose against the frosted glass to get a better look. They weren’t expecting anyone.
Sally opened the door to see a tall, slim man wearing a blue trench coat with gold buttons and smart blue jeans. Although she hadn't seen him many times in the three months that she’d lived next door to him – he worked night shifts and usually slept through the day – she recognised their neighbour immediately. The dark haired man would be easy to pick out wherever you were. He was tall enough to stand out in a crowd and, even wrapped up in a thick trench coat she swore, she could make out the outline of his muscles underneath.
“The postman delivered this to the wrong address,” he indicated the box in his hands.
She blushed. It was stupid really. She was a thirty-something year old woman and she was blushing like a love stuck teenager. “That must be my baubles, I ordered them weeks ago.” It was the first time in years that Sally was holding the Christmas dinner at her house. Usually they all piled into the car and went to the in-laws. After breaking up with her husband – soon to be ex-husband – Sally had planned on spending Christmas alone, until her mother had broken her arm and claimed that she was unable to cook. Her mother had been living at Sally’s sister’s house ever since, and so it was thought only fair that Sally was in charge of the Christmas dinner this year. How much of that was her mother making sure that her darling daughter didn’t spend Christmas alone as she wished, Sally didn’t know.
He handed her the parcel and looked as though he was getting ready to leave.
“Why don’t you come in? I’ve just taken some mince pies out of the oven.”
He looked down at his watch, and Sally knew he was about to turn down her offer.
“It’s Christmas, I’m sure you must have time to have a mince pie with your neighbour and her dog.”
Cupid wagged his tail as if to show that he was the dog she was talking about. If he kept it up she’d have to add ‘Polish the hall floor’ on her list of things to do before Christmas.
He looked down at his watch again and nodded. “Sure, a mince pie sounds great.”
The minute he stepped over the threshold, Cupid was between his legs, weaving around them as if they were the poles at Crufts and he was aiming to win the competition.
“Cupid, away!”
Cupid ignored her, if anything he began to run faster.
“I’m sorry about him. I always said that he needed to be trained as a puppy but no one listened.”
“How old is he now, then?”
“One. I guess he is still a puppy, but I think it’s a little late to change his ways.”
He made a “hum” noise but said nothing else.
“Sally,” she held her hand out to shake his.
“Jason,” he shook her hand, “and, you must be Cupid.”
Cupid licked his hand as a confirmation.
“The mince pies are in the kitchen, go and sit in the living room and I’ll bring some through. Would you like a drink or something to go with it?”
“Coffee would be great.”
Despite her instructions to make himself comfortable in the living room, Jason followed her into the kitchen.
Sally blushed. She could see his eyes moving around the room. The pile of clutter on the sideboard seemed to have doubled in size and had spread onto the windowsill, the kitchen table was crammed with stuff except for a small area at the far end which was just big enough for a single placemat and the sink was full of that morning’s dishes – including Cupid’s dinner bowl. With Jason’s tall frame standing in the corner the room looked even smaller and even more cramped than it had to start with.
She busied around the kitchen whilst Jason stood in the corner watching her every move.
Sally filled a mug with water out of the tap, added a smidgen of milk and popped it into the microwave. “The kettle broke the other day,” she mumbled. That was another thing on her list of things to-do before Christmas, ‘Buy a new kettle’, it was between ‘Decorate the Christmas tree’ and ‘Stuff the turkey’.
The ping of the microwave distracted Sally from the shopping list she was making in her mind. If her family wasn’t so picky it’d be easy. Most people would be perfectly happy with roast turkey but not her family. They needed to have one of those seven bird feasts, or whatever it was called, Sally still couldn’t remember which birds were meant to be included and in what order. If she put a robin in the centre instead of a woodcock her mother would never forgive her.
“Excuse me,” she said to Jason, who was studying the Christmas cards hanging from a ribbon along the tops of the cupboards with more attention than was strictly necessary.
Sally wiggled past wondering whether she’d be better off to push the table against the far wall. It’d give her more space and it wasn’t as if she needed room for four people to sit around the table.
“Should we go through to the living room,” she asked, after making sure that the coffee granules had well and truly dissolved into the liquid.
Jason nodded.
He’s not very talkative, is he? Sally thought.
“You haven’t decorated your Christmas tree,” Jason announced, as soon as they walked through the living room door.
“No, I haven’t got round to it yet and you’ve just delivered the baubles. You can’t have a Christmas tree without baubles.” Sally decided not to tell him that she had plenty of baubles in the loft and that the only reason she’d bought new ones was that the old ones didn’t fit in with the colour scheme of her new living room.
“Mine’s been up for ages,” he said. “My mum always used to say there’s no point having a tree if you don’t have a kid. In my case, I am the kid. I love Christmas and all the little bits and bobs that go along with it.” Jason put his coffee down on the table between the sofa and the chair – she was pleasantly surprised to see that he’d put it on a coaster. He picked up a thread of lights from where she’d left it on the side after checking that all the blubs worked and replacing the ones that didn’t – which had been most of them. “Do you mind if I–”
“Not at all.” Sally was glad that someone was taking the awful task out of her hands. As a child every year her mother had insisted that they decorated the tree together, it was sort of a tradition, and she hated it.
Jason put his mince pie down on the windowsill so that he had two free hands to untangle the lights and drape them around the tree in some sort of organised fashion which took him more concentration than Sally would have put into decorating the whole tree.
“My dad always did that bit for us. We were too short to reach the top of our tree. Of course, mine’s a bit smaller than the one we used to have.” Sally mentally kicked herself for bringing her father into the conversation. Any minute now Jason would start asking her personal questions about her family and she’d have to tell him that her father had passed away – something she still didn’t think she’d be able to say out loud without crying, although it had been about a year and three months since his death.