On the tenth day...

Abby woke up the next morning still in her gorgeous dress but with pine needles in her hair. She took a second to brush some out and wonder where the hell they’d come from before the memory of the night before came rushing right on back.

          All of it.

          Her arms were covered in scratches, too, from falling into the Christmas tree.

          Fortunately, she remembered, no real damage had been done except to herself and her pride, and none of the presents had been crushed by her body weight as she landed.

          Unfortunately she’d flailed around in the tree for a few shocked moments to the ever-lasting laughter of the crowd, probably flashing her knickers, until Damien and Raj had managed to extract her. It had not been her greatest moment standing leaning against Damien with a bauble entangled in her hair, spiky green leaves littered through her hair and some really unfortunate glitter stains on her brand new dress.

          Her pride was ruptured for now, but at least this time she wasn’t hungover. Much.

          She rolled over to find two painkillers, a glass of chilly Berocca and the next Christmas card on her nightstand. A week ago she’d have wondered if her admirer had ninja’d into the flat again to take care of her, but she figured that it had probably been Jess who’d arranged this little setup.

          She had a thought then; could the secret admirer have been Jess?

          Popping the pills and downing half the glass of Berocca, Abby struggled to sit up to better read the card. Her head didn’t turn into a spinning top and no bile threatened to fizzle the sides of her throat – so far so good. She flipped open the card.

          On the tenth day of Christmas, your true love gives to thee: ten teas of England, a gown pimped to the nines, eight maidens in your favourite movies, seven swans for your favourite ballet, six aspirin and a decent lay-in, five golden trinkets, GTA on PS4, three French pens, two turtle gloves and a partridge named Frosty. Neal street Tea House isn’t too far away, and Twinings just around the corner. Mention your name to gather your surprises. It’s the greatest time of year, and it’s here, help me celebrate it – X.

          Well, never say the man didn’t know the way to her heart.

          Abby dragged herself out of bed with a smile and shuffled towards the shower.

          Abby may have managed to avoid waking up hungover that morning, but by the late afternoon she had a raging headache. It was probably from the lack of water she’d drunk since she’d spent the whole day fantasising about promised tea.

          So when it became apparent that she wasn’t actually succeeding in getting any work done, Abby asked the reception ladies to take her messages, donned her coat and went out for a walk along Fleet Street.

          Fleet Street had seen the best and the worst of humanity. And not just on the Monopoly board. It was a place of history, age, intrigue and the set of so many tales such as the one of Sweeney Todd, the demon barber. Most notably memorialised as the wonderful Johnny Depp.

          But like many streets of London, Fleet Street was an old place – a magical place – and Christmastime was ever it’s time to shine, shown up only by Regent Street’s light show.

          Twinings was not far from Fleet Street.

          As one of the oldest tea merchants of all-time English history, Twinings was established as early as 1706 and was still going strong after over 300 years. Which was more than you could say for most businesses.

          Abby loved that store. It was small, but cozy and warm and walking into it on a cold day like that day was it was more comforting than a hot bath. Abby wasn’t a Londoner by birth, but there was no denying that she was English because she genuinely thought that a hot cup of tea could solve many of life’s problems. In fact, one of the first places that Abby ever came to when she moved down to London was Twinings.

          It was a haven.

          X knew that about her as well, it would seem.

          Stepping into the heavily wooded confines of the tea shop, Abby took a deep breath and savoured the scent of different flavours of tea.

          Since its more humble beginnings with a very small selection, Twinings had since collected more than a hundred different flavours and tastes from different corners of the globe. Abby’s favourite was one they called ‘Golden Rose Hearts’ because when she’d first tasted it, on a cold, dreary day like today, it had had all the flavour of a thick fresh, buttery slice of bread and it never failed to soothe her. There was an ever-full tin in the pantry reserved for sad days and that time of the month.

          A saleswoman came over to Abby as she was taking off her hat. She had bright red hair like the Little Mermaid and a wide smile.

          “Hi there,” she breezed. “How can I help you?”

          “Hi – My name is Abigail Leightley, a...friend told me to mention my name.” And yet she still felt kind of like a celebrity wannabe. Do you know who I am?

          The woman’s smile got brighter, if that was possible, and when she grabbed Abby’s hand to lead her to the back where they did tastings, she was practically channelling the Cheshire Cat.

          “You’re Abby?” She asked, although Abby was sure the question was probably rhetorical at this point. “You are so so lucky! I mean wow! To have that man coming and buying you special gifts! Wow! I’m so jealous!”

          Mermaid, as Abby had decided to call her, sat her down at the tastings counter and patted her hand, then went to drop herself onto a stool on the opposite side.

          “Er – yes, I guess I am lucky. Did, um, what did this man look like?”

          Mermaid giggled and shook her head. “No, no, Abby – no cheating now. Suffice it to say you’ve got yourself a super catch in that man and I’m not just talking about his generosity or his taste.”

          Abby mentally cursed – foiled again. At least that crossed Jess off her suspect list. As open as she was to people loving whoever they would regardless of race, colour, sex or gender – Abby wasn’t sure how she’d have handled that kind of relationship dynamic shift with her best friend.

          “What did he say, exactly, about me?”

          Mermaid started piling different teas onto the counter, a couple were gold and black labelled. “Just that you were his true love, he was surprising you for Christmas, and that you were a very avid tea enthusiast.”

          Abby had to smile at that, picking up one box of tea to look at it. ‘Raspberry Rose Hearts’. Wow, she hadn’t seen that one before.

          “Well, he’s right. In fact he sent me here today, sort of.”

          Mermaid nodded again. “I know – he set up a sort of private little tasting session for you. You get to choose five different teas – to keep. All paid for.” She tossed her hair and lifted up a small packet of ‘Silver Serpent’ tea. “Ready to start?”

          Over the next hour Abby was certain she’d never been more plied with hot tea in her entire lift and waited on for her opinion. It felt a little like being a Princess or a Lady, probably in the old tea rooms that the Twinings store had once been. She and Mermaid, who she later found out was actually named Katia, must have gone through at least 30 or 40 different flavours before Abby had to make a mad dash to the staff bathroom.

          Finally, she’d whittled her decision down to just five – a collection of greens and blacks – and waved a happy goodbye to her new redheaded friend. Her mood was much improved, her headache gone and her bladder recently emptied. Times were good.

          But it was dark outside now and colder than it had been an hour ago despite the hot tea in her belly. So, she decided to just take the Tube to her next stop since it was likely to be warmer than the chilly London evening air.

          The Tube was wonderful at Christmas.

          Most people wouldn’t have agreed, but Abby loved it. There were carollers and people milling about with a ‘Happy Christmas’ and ‘Wonderful New Year’, the occasional decoration and even a Christmas tree or two. It got even better the closer you were to the Golden triangle, where Abby headed, and when she stepped out at Covent Garden it was all she could do to stop grinning at everyone.

          Her next stop was the Neal Street Tea House. Another personal favourite and always a treat, it was the remnant of yet another old tea room in the heart of London’s West End. Barely around the corner from the Apple Markets, decorated to the nines in festive colours, the Tea House called to her from inside.

          A little bell tingled above the door when she entered.

          The warmth from Twinings had dissipated a little on the journey, so when Jonathan, the shopkeeper, came over to greet her she was more than ready for tea-time round two.

          But there was no tasting waiting for her this time.

          “Abby – good to see you! Your man told me to expect you today!”

          Abby was starting to wonder if she was officially in a relationship now and everybody knew about it but her.

          “Hey Jonathan – good to see you too. You don’t happen to want to tell me who my man is, do you?”

          Jonathan, who looked quite a lot like Santa with his ruddy red checks and white beard, shook his head. “Now now. Instead of struggling with impatience, wouldn’t you rather see what I’ve got for you?”

          Abby gave him her coat, he hung it up, and then he took her upstairs.

          She’d been up there before – it was so full of beautiful tea pots and assorted other crockery that Abby usually balked a little. She wasn’t known for being the most coordinated and managed to remain constantly at fear that she’d trip and break absolutely everything in the shop with one false move. Like dominoes. She’d even dreamt about it before.

          “I have something very special for you, Abby.”

          “Is it tea?”

          Jonathan guffawed. “Very clever, pet, but no – it’s actually not.” He gestured to the small coffee table in front of the sofa set up at the back of the small loft. On top of it sat a vintage bone china tea set. From far away it looked like it was decorated with splashes of black, blue, yellow and brown but on closer inspection Abby was astounded to see familiar quotes and scenes from Alice in Wonderland.

          “Oh my god.”

          “I thought you’d like it, pet.”

          “Oh my god!” Abby rushed, carefully as possible, towards the tea set and dropped to her knees to pick them up.

          It was designed for two people; a teapot, two cups with saucers, milk jug and sugar canister. Five pieces if one considered the cup and saucers collectively, as one should.

          Combined with the five teas she’d picked out at Twinings that made ten. Just like X had promised. He hadn’t just given her tea; he’s given her an entire tea party.

          “It’s fine china, pet, hand painted and made around 1937, I believe. Don’t rightly know how it got through the blitz, but I’m sure glad it did. Beautiful set, don’t you reckon?”

          Abby was transfixed and had probably never felt so in love in her entire life. X was a dream man.

          “Yes.” A tear pricked the corner of her eye. “I do.” 

          Abby didn’t take the tea set home that day. She hadn’t wanted it to get broken on the Tube so she arranged for it to be couriered to her after Christmas. It was safe as chips in the tea house until then.

          Feeling too fuzzy and alive to go straight home, she wandered through Covent Garden and down towards the Apple Market.

          Standing on the edge, beneath a sprig of mistletoe, Abby stared up at it and remembered singing the night before, before the unfortunate issue with the tree happened.

          There were only two more days until Christmas, three more sleeps, and then she would know who her admirer, seducer, and dream man was. And she couldn’t wait.

          Maybe he’d meet her at the mistletoe. 

Merry Christmas

Sam xox