The Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 5

The next morning, the shrill tones of the doorbell woke me abruptly. I groaned, forcing my eyes open, feeling blindly for my phone. It was gone eight. I quickly searched my mind, but I was certain we didn’t have any deliveries due. I abandoned my phone and swung my legs out of the bed and dragged myself to the flat door despite the aches and pains I was feeling.

While going down the stairs, I saw a young man shielding his eyes and trying to look inside for signs of life. “I’m coming,” I shouted out. He gave a curt nod and stepped back. Thankful he had heard me even if he couldn’t see me, I quickened my pace.

I swung the door open as soon as I had negotiated the multiple locks. Shivering at the cold gust and the little protection my navy PJs dotted with stars offered me. “Hi, sorry.”

“Delivery.” He held up a red box as though I should have been expecting it. “Just sign here.” He handed me the simple black clipboard, and I signed my name with little thought, instead focusing on what could be in the long thin box that fit in his hand so well. Almost snatching it from him as he accepted the clipboard and pen back that was dangling from a piece of string.

I turned and grabbed the door. “Thanks.” Closing it firmly behind me and leaning against it. Inspecting the outside of the glossy red box. Gripping the base and lying it flat as I eased the lid off. A single red rose nestled in a bed of red tissue paper. Tucked in the lid was a folded up piece of paper.

Sitting at the nearest table, I deposited the boxed rose on the table top and turned my attention to the note. Unfolding it carefully and laying it on the table. Trying to smooth the many creases out from how many times the sender had folded it.

Noelle,

I must admit your name suits you perfectly. Full of Christmas joy and mischief. I am only in England for another twelve days. I know it’s not quite the traditional interpretation, but they’re going to be our twelve days of Christmas.

On the first day of Christmas, your true love sent to you a single red rose.

Until tomorrow, my little snowflake.

I was a little gutted that there was no name signed at the bottom, but it was the slightest annoyance among a flurry of flutters that the note had created. I grabbed the box, lid and note and headed back to the flat. I should have already been up and baking ready for the day. Although those responsibilities paled as I considered his words again. Shaking my head when my brain reached the ‘you true love’ part. He was just quoting the Christmas carol. There was no underlying meaning, I reminded myself. Although I was more than a little intrigued by him calling me a snowflake. Not to mention ‘until tomorrow’. Did he mean he would see me or that another gift would arrive? I prayed it was the former. Seeing him again was more of a treat than any gift he could send.

I started getting dressed, but with little attention as I threw on jeans and the first tee my hand landed on in the wardrobe. I didn’t have the time to worry about my wardrobe choices. Pulling my hair over my shoulder and brushing it roughly before weaving it into a plait. Heading for the door before stopping and retrieving my rose from the bed.

As soon as I had turned the lights on, I started setting the oven going. I knew Alice would question my disorganisation and why I had overslept. I certainly wouldn’t be admitting that my dreams were filled with the many ways I could make the mystery man smile, or that my brain had refused to leave that delicious dreamland.

I moved on to searching the under-counter cupboards for a suitable makeshift vase, but nothing seemed to be tall enough. Then my eyes settled on the shelf above the counter. The row of simple white Queen Anne style teapots. They were all identical, and I had been lucky to track down four of them. They were perfect for housing the rose because of their vertical composition. I stood and grabbed the angled gold trimmed handle of the one closest to me. Ensuring I put its lid back on the shelf and filling it with water.

Once the rose was safely inside, I pushed it to the back of the counter. It seemed a little silly to put a rose in an antique teapot but also somehow fitting. It almost reminded me of its sender, something silly inside, something so traditional and sophisticated. I was still staring at it when Alice walked in. “You could have unlocked the door. I had to rummage in my bag forever to find my keys.” She headed straight for the flat stairs to deposit her bag, as she always did. “Where did that come from?” She inclined her head towards the rose and I tried my best to contain the blush that was threatening.

“I have no idea, mystery admirer, I guess.” I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. It was more the note than the rose, but it was an eye grabbing reminder of the words he had written. I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside of me as my imagination ran wild with the possibilities to come.

“Nothing is ready.” Alice was looking around the sides, puzzled. They would normally already be filled with evidence of my efforts, but there wasn’t so much as a sprinkle of flour.

“I overslept. Don’t worry, it will get done when it gets done.”

She put the back of her hand against my forehead. “Are you poorly or is this a body snatcher’s situation?”

“Behave and help or nothing will get done.” Laughing to myself slightly. I was always the overly responsible one, but mainly because Alice was such a carefree spirit. If I didn’t keep her reined in at work, she would be off doing God knows what. It was why we made such a good team. We both pushed each other out of our comfort zones.