The Christmas Wish List: The perfect cosy read to settle down with this autumn Read online

  Praise for

  Heidi Swain

  ‘Sweet and lovely. I guarantee you will fall in love with Heidi’s wonderful world’ Milly Johnson

  ‘Wise, warm and wonderful – a real summer treat!’ Heat

  ‘Sparkling and romantic’ My Weekly

  ‘The most delicious slice of festive fiction: a true comfort read and the perfect treat to alleviate all the stress!’ Veronica Henry

  ‘A fabulous feel good read – a ray of reading sunshine!’ Laura Kemp

  ‘Sprinkled with Christmas sparkle’ Trisha Ashley

  ‘A story that captures your heart’ Chrissie Barlow

  ‘Fans of Carole Matthews will enjoy this heartfelt novel’ Katie Oliver

  To Paul,

  this one was always going to be for you

  Chapter 1

  As my fingers itched to click open the calendar on the computer for what would have been the fiftieth time in the last five minutes, I began to question my resolve about not taking superstitions seriously.

  That morning, before I started my double shift on the hotel reception and merrily checked my weekend to-do list, I hadn’t given the date a second thought. So excited by the prospect of a whole weekend away from work and with the flat I shared with my partner, Jonathan, to myself that I hadn’t even noticed, but now I knew without any shadow of a doubt that Friday the thirteenth of September was going to be etched on my brain for ever.

  What with lost key cards, a malfunctioning lift and two sacked sous-chefs, the morning had been bad enough, but events of the afternoon had sent the day soaring from tough to a total disaster.

  ‘I seem to have done it again,’ beamed Mr Lost Key Card Number Two from earlier. ‘I’m sure I had it with me when I left,’ he continued, patting down his jacket and trouser pockets as he approached the desk, ‘but now . . .’

  Now the computer was telling me my long and gruelling shift was over and he wasn’t my problem. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have left until everything on my watch was on track and running like a well-oiled machine, but right then, quite frankly, I didn’t care.

  ‘If you take a seat,’ I told him, ‘my colleague will be over in a minute to help you.’

  ‘Oh right,’ he murmured, clearly affronted that I hadn’t jumped into action. ‘I’ll just wait then.’

  He sauntered off and I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out behind his retreating back.

  ‘Bloody hell, Hattie,’ hissed Stuart, my deputy who, as always, was right on time but never early for a shift handover. ‘I’ve just heard. I’m so sorry.’

  I nodded, but didn’t comment and signed myself out of the check-in system.

  ‘Mr Oakley over there has lost his key card for the second time today,’ I swallowed, ‘and the catering agency are sending over a couple of temps. They should go straight round to the kitchen, but if they turn up here—’

  ‘I’ll send them over,’ Stuart interrupted, fixing me with a searching stare. ‘You really didn’t know, did you?’

  ‘I told you I didn’t,’ I said, reaching under the desk for my bag. ‘I’ve been telling you all for weeks that I didn’t. I thought it was just a rumour, the same as you lot.’

  *

  It was a balmy September evening, far too warm for a bubble-filled bath, but that was what I was looking forward to. On the bus home I imagined myself slipping into the muscle-relaxing tub where I could have a good cry in peace and telephone my dear friend, Dolly. At almost fifty years my senior we were unusual BFFs but I knew she was the one person in the world who would be able to offer the comfort and soothing counsel my bruised ego craved. I would talk to Jonathan, who would most likely see the situation as an opportunity rather than a disaster, once I had the benefit of Dolly’s wise words ringing in my ears and had cried myself out.

  Dolly and I had actually met through the hotel. She had been a regular guest for years before I secured what was supposed to be a temporary housekeeping position the summer I left school almost fourteen years ago. The hotel had been run by the Lucca family then and the whole setup had been family friendly; warm and welcoming, abuzz with laughter and nothing like the sleek operation it had been turned into when they sold up four years ago and moved back to Italy. Now it was all corporate clients and fine dining.

  Dolly and I had properly bonded the year I turned eighteen. My personal life had taken a battering and my relationship with my parents was hanging by the thinnest of threads, but professionally things were better.

  I had just moved into a room at the hotel and been promoted to front of house when Dolly broke her wrist during an excursion into town. Too uncomfortable to travel back to her home town of Wynbridge alone and unwilling to ask anyone to collect her, she decided to stay on. The Luccas, knowing certain tasks would be difficult for her, and that I could do with the distraction, asked if I would mind taking special care of their much-valued guest. Initially, Dolly hadn’t been keen on the idea.

  ‘I’m sure the last thing Hattie wants is to be traipsing about picking up after me,’ she had told Mr Lucca. ‘The poor girl will be bored witless by the time I’m well enough to go home.’

  Thankfully the Luccas knew best and had stuck to their guns and Dolly’s concerns were completely unfounded. I discovered in her a sympathetic confidante and we ended up spending a very companionable two weeks together. I had never had the opportunity to spend so much time with someone her age before – my grandparents had gone long before I was old enough to form memories of them – and having no children of her own meant I filled the role of granddaughter for her.

  She hadn’t been able to heal my recently broken heart – nothing was capable of that – but she had stopped me from severing all ties with my parents, imploring me to give things time to settle. We chatted together for hours and she told me all about her life in Wynbridge and her job as a teaching assistant, scattering her monologues with hilarious classroom anecdotes, and when I escorted her back home, I fell in love with both her beautiful cottage and the town as well as her working life.

  As a result, during the years that followed I became a regular visitor, even occasionally volunteering alongside her in the school and eventually falling to wonder if I should consider a career in education myself. I loved working with the children and was certainly capable of doing the job, but I never took the plunge. Swiftly promoted when the Luccas left, and with a pay rise to match, I stayed working at the hotel and my plans soon became nothing more than an eventually forgotten daydream played out on the train to and from Wynbridge.

  Glossy, groomed, efficient and the consummate professional, I was now knocking on the door of thirty and matched the transformed hotel and the manager’s expectations to a T. Or at least I thought I did. Dolly hadn’t stayed since the hotel’s overhaul – she hadn’t been impressed by the plasma TVs and sleek electric curtains – but she was proud of my achievements and we still kept in touch. Not quite as regularly as before, and increasingly by telephone rather than me visiting her in person since I had started dating Jonathan a couple of years ago, but she was always there when I needed her and boy, did I need her now.

  Jonathan had never been able to understand why I was best friends with someone five decades older and, having no grandparents of his own and no other older influence in his life, couldn’t grasp it when I tried to explain, but Dolly was my best friend and after such a disastrous day she was always going to be my first port of call.

  ‘Hattie?’

  I crossed the lobby, my heels slipping slightly on the polished floor as
I rushed towards the lift which would take me up to the flat.

  ‘Hattie,’ came the voice again, more insistent this time.

  I told myself that the events of the afternoon must have sent me into shock. I was so looking forward to hearing Dolly’s voice I had conjured it in my head.

  ‘Hattie, it’s me, dear, Dolly.’

  I spun around and there she was. Tiny in stature, but large of heart and surrounded by bags. She always reminded me of Miss Marple as interpreted by Geraldine McEwan. Only perhaps slightly more eccentric, if that were possible.

  ‘Oh Dolly!’ I gasped. ‘What are you doing here? I was going to call . . .’

  My voice trailed off as the lump in my throat threatened to betray me.

  ‘And so was I,’ she smiled, her green eyes twinkling, ‘but then I just got the feeling that it would be better to visit in person.’

  She eyed me astutely and I nodded and stood up a little straighter.

  ‘You look tired,’ I observed, returning her scrutiny and feeling surprised by what I found, ‘and pale.’

  It was unlike her not to be sporting a rosy glow, especially after a summer spent tending her beloved garden.

  ‘Just what every woman of advancing years wants to be told,’ she chuckled, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘It really is wonderful to see you. Was your journey horrid?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘Travelling on the train was quite pleasant, but it’s the start of term and, as you know, all the excitement takes it out of me a bit these days.’

  ‘Of course,’ I nodded. ‘I was forgetting you were back in the thick of it again now.’

  I knew this was to be her last academic year and given her pallor I couldn’t help thinking that next summer couldn’t come soon enough. She had added fifteen years of volunteering to her working life since her retirement, so it was little wonder she looked worn out.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, reaching out for my hand. ‘That’s enough about me. I was rather hoping you were going to tell me what you’ve been up to, and a hug wouldn’t go amiss.’

  I managed not to cry all over her and once we were all hugged out, we went up to the flat. Dolly perched herself at the kitchen island, watching me closely while I boiled the kettle, kicked off my heels and released my hair from the pins which held it in a tight bun.

  ‘It’s so lovely to see you, Dolly,’ I said, running my hands through the tangle and thinking what a relief it was to finally relax. ‘But I can’t help wondering what exactly it was that made you decide to call in person rather than pick up the phone?’

  ‘Well, you hadn’t rung for a couple of weeks,’ she said shrewdly, ‘and the last time we spoke I could tell there was something bothering you. I figured it was either man trouble again or something at the hotel so I thought I’d come and see if I could winkle it out of you. I am right, aren’t I?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, clearing my throat as I splashed water into the pot. ‘Yes, I’m afraid you are, but it’s not man trouble, as you put it. That little bit of bother I had with Jonathan was literally months ago.’ Not that I was keeping count. ‘It’s long forgotten, Dolly. Everything’s been fine since I moved into the flat.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ she nodded, ‘although I’m not all that sure about your description of it.’

  Given the fallout at the time, I was surprised I could so easily downsize the disaster myself, but given what I was now faced with it felt like a tiny splash in life’s ocean.

  ‘Oh Dolly,’ I sobbed, ‘I’ve been made redundant.’

  ‘Oh, my dear girl, no,’ she gasped, her mouth falling open as I banged down the kettle and began to cry all the harder.

  She slipped off her stool and rushed to pull me into another hug.

  ‘I’ve only just found out,’ I sniffled, resting my chin on her shoulder, ‘by the end of November, I’m going to be out of a job.’

  I still couldn’t really believe it. Following the takeover I had worked tirelessly to meet the needs of some increasingly demanding guests and I always went above and beyond when it came to customer service and yes, I know, some would say that was all part of my job, but I prided myself on going the extra mile in the misguided assumption that it would make me indispensable. But at the end of the day, it turned out that my impeccable work ethic and unpaid hours had counted for nothing. I might as well have spent the last few years being as slapdash as Stuart for all the good my commitment had done me.

  ‘Have you been told why they’re letting you go?’ Dolly eventually asked, as she released me and carried on making the tea herself.

  ‘Staff streamlining or something,’ I said, noisily blowing my nose on a sheet of kitchen roll. ‘From what I can work out the highest paid in each department has been given the chop and they’re giving us plenty of notice so we have a chance to look elsewhere.’

  ‘So, it’s about saving money,’ Dolly said kindly, ‘not about you personally.’

  ‘I suppose,’ I shrugged. ‘But what am I going to do?’

  ‘You’ll find another position easily enough,’ Dolly rallied. ‘You have years of experience and no one can fault your dedication. You’ve worked every Christmas for as long as I can remember. There aren’t many employees willing to sign up to do that, Hattie.’

  Dolly didn’t approve of my willingness to forgo the joys of Christmas year on year. She was a huge fan of the season herself.

  ‘I didn’t work last Christmas,’ I reminded her.

  Jonathan had surprised me with a trip to Abu Dhabi. It was lovely to leave the grey skies of England behind but I hadn’t much enjoyed the seasonal celebrations under the sun. It was true that Christmas had come to mean less and less to me, especially now I had no contact with my parents at all, but it turned out that not even the spectacular Winter Wonderland on Al Maryah Island could reignite my festive spark. Like me, Jonathan didn’t care much for Christmas either, but he loved the city and had been backwards and forwards to work on various projects there throughout the year.

  ‘Yes, well,’ Dolly sniffed. ‘You might not have been working, but Jonathan was and I hardly think a week or two in the searing sun is very festive!’

  ‘It was only twenty-six degrees,’ I hiccupped. ‘In the summer it’s nearer forty.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ she tutted, handing me a mug of sweetened tea. ‘What you need is a good old-fashioned Christmas to remind you what you’re missing out on and you might want to think about that before you sign up for another job and commit to working every December the twenty-fifth. You should view this as an opportunity to make some changes in your life, Hattie. Redress the old work–life balance a bit. You’ve hardly taken a proper break since the Luccas sold up.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ I told her. It was far too early in the year to be thinking about Christmas and whether or not I wanted to carry on working through it. ‘But I could do with some company this weekend.’ I didn’t much want to be on my own now. ‘You will stay, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone after a shock like this. I take it Jonathan is away again at the moment?’

  I opened my mouth to answer, but stopped as the flat door opened and then banged shut.

  ‘Hattie!’

  ‘Not away then?’ Dolly questioned.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I told her, abandoning my tea. I pulled off another sheet of kitchen roll and peered at my reflection in the oven door. ‘I’m not sure, I mean, I wasn’t expecting to see him until next Tuesday. I was planning to talk to you on the phone and get everything straight in my head before I shared my news with him.’

  My mascara, in spite of the promises about being completely waterproof written on the expensive packaging, had proved to be anything but and my face was smeared with the telltale signs of an emotional offload. I quickly began to try and scrub it away, making my eyes look even sorer in the process.

  ‘Given the cir
cumstances,’ said Dolly pointedly, ‘I hardly think you need to worry about a bit of smudged make-up, my dear, do you?’

  ‘I have news!’ Jonathan shouted along the hall. ‘Get your best gear on, Harriet, because I’m taking you out to dinner!’

  He burst into the room, simultaneously popping the cork on a bottle of champagne and grinning from ear to ear. His smile faltered a little as he spotted Dolly perched back at the island and I knew she would have noticed.

  ‘Dolly,’ he said, quickly collecting himself, ‘how absolutely lovely to see you.’

  ‘Hello, Jonathan,’ she smiled back.

  ‘I hope you will be able to join us?’ he asked. ‘As always, you’re more than welcome.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said, ‘but it’s very kind of you to ask.’

  ‘Oh well,’ he said, turning to me, his dark blue eyes registering surprise as he took in my tear-stained face and unkempt hair. ‘What on earth . . .’

  ‘And as you can see,’ Dolly continued, ‘Hattie here isn’t much in the mood for a celebration at the moment either.’

  Jonathan dumped the bottle on the counter and rushed round, wrapping his strong arms tightly around me. I forgot all about my dishevelled state and clung to his warm body, the smell of his aftershave simultaneously comforting me and making me want to cry all over again. It might have been Dolly I turned to first, but it did feel good to have Jonathan home too, not that I had been expecting him.

  ‘What on earth’s happened?’ he asked, planting a kiss on the top of my head. ‘What’s going on?’

  Fresh tears started to flow and Dolly handed me the last of the kitchen roll before Jonathan steered me towards a chair under the window. He took the one next to me, still holding my hand which made mopping up my tears awkward.

  ‘It’s the hotel,’ I told him, dabbing ineffectively at my nose which needed another good blow. ‘I’ve been made redundant.’

  I let out another sob, still unable to really take it in.

  ‘If I can’t find another job, I’m going to be unemployed by the end of November.’