Snow Angels, Secrets and Christmas Cake by Sue Watson Page A

in – and still nothing from him.
    ‘Coffee?’ I asked her and she gave me a ‘you should be packing’ look.
    ‘Tamsin, I can’t hang around too long, love, I’ve left Richard running the bakery and he doesn’t know his éclairs from his croquembouche.’
    ‘Just a quick coffee?’ I asked, feeling like a child.
    She nodded and I put the kettle on. Suddenly I was asking my little sister for permission to make a cup of coffee – a lot had happened in the last 24 hours.
    I opened my bag of coffee and breathed deeply, my rich roast Sumatra Wahana was like pure therapy. I remembered the first time I’d tasted it, in a little cafe in The Lakes. Just thinking about that holiday now made me want to cry, I grabbed a tissue and Sam immediately asked if I was okay.
    ‘Oh I was just thinking... one of my best ever Christmases was when Simon and I spent an idyllic pre-children Christmas in a cottage in The Lake District,’ I said, shaking coffee beans into the electric grinder. ‘The cottage was almost falling down, no heating, a leaking toilet and frozen pipes, but each day we’d wrap up warm and wander the hills. We loved the snow, the fresh air, the nothingness, taking our pleasure from the peace and quiet and just being alone together.’ I poured hot water onto the ground coffee, filling my nostrils with the nutty, soothing aroma of freshly ground beans. I took out two mugs while Sam slid into a seat at the kitchen table she was always a good listener. I suppose she had to be because I was a good talker.
    ‘In the evenings we’d return to the cosy cottage and eat local cheese, a bottle of wine and sit by a roaring log fire,’ I gazed ahead, remembering how life had been... how we had been. ‘We had no money, a rented flat and little idea where our lives were going to take us. But we were happy, somehow – equal, you know?’
    Sam looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, I know you think Simon can be a bit of a bully, but he isn’t, it’s just that over the years he sort of took charge. And as he became more successful I took a back seat and focussed more on the kids and home...’
    ‘So you gave up helping out with the business and...’
    ‘I didn’t feel I could involve myself in the business anymore – it wasn’t my arena... I lost my confidence.’
    Sam looked angry. ‘But you’re a vibrant, intelligent woman with so much to give. You started that business with Simon, and once the kids were off your hands you could have gone back there to work, but he never let you do that. If you’d been in charge Tam we both know none of this would have happened – you’d have had much more of a grip on things than Simon had.’
    She was right of course, but he’d cut me off years ago.
    ‘I’d always planned to go back after the children were born but Simon put me off – he said it was all computerised now and I wouldn’t have a clue. I didn’t argue, it was easier to accept it and just stay at home...’
    ‘Yes, but in doing that you lost confidence, made yourself very vulnerable and completely dependent on him financially,’ Sam pointed out.
    I had to agree. Simon would come home and scare me with stories about the young, go-getting women he worked with and I couldn’t help but feel insignificant and worthless. Compared to these ballsy women with incredible knowledge and talent, I felt I had nothing to offer. But at home I could take control. That’s why I always embraced occasions – especially Christmas, when I could showcase my talents, deck the halls and bring on the carol singers.
    ‘That holiday in The Lakes was one of my happiest memories,’ I sighed. ‘I never felt the cold or was in the least worried about the fact our car kept giving up on the mountainous roads and we couldn’t afford to eat out.’ I smiled to myself. ‘Who needed luxury cars and fancy restaurants when we had snowy mountains, lush forests and sex by the fire?’ I plunged the cafetière and drips of strong,