12 Daves of Christmas Read online

  Chapter 5

  ‘Well, this is … nice.’ I plonked my bags on the bed with a revolting floral bedspread and it creaked, despite my belongings not being overly heavy. I hated to think what it would sound like when I slept on it tonight.

  ‘Reminds me of my knees,’ Grandma mused. ‘I don’t miss the aches and pains, let me tell you.’ She smiled.

  I scrunched my nose at the thick, musky smell that told me this Belle Cove motel room had seen more guests than cleaners. I pulled the curtains aside and opened the front window. At least I’d only be here for two nights before moving on to the next town. There was a small desk but maybe I’d opt to work outdoors by the water, if it wasn’t too hot tomorrow.

  Grandma Charlotte alternated her stance from one foot to the other as I took a few things from my bag. ‘Shall we go and visit Dave number one now?’ she asked.

  I checked my watch. ‘He’s not supposed to be back until four, remember? Not long to go now!’ A wave of light-headedness washed over me and I sat on the edge of the bed. The reality of what I was doing, helping my grandma’s ghost find the love of her life and give him back the watch and letter, finally hit me. What would I say if we found him? What if Dave number one was the one? How would I tell him his young love was now standing beside me in spirit? He could think I’m nuts, or call the police.

  Grandma sat beside me, and a subtle hint of rose registered in my mind. ‘We’ll just take this one step at a time. If it’s meant to be, we’ll find him.’

  I took a deep breath and stood. ‘Right, time for a coffee, let’s see what they have here.’ I opened the cupboard to find instant coffee, sugar sachets, and small milk pods. I scrunched my nose again. ‘Wonder if they have a good barista here in town. Let’s go, Grandma.’

  After topping up my caffeine levels and then wishing I’d tried something calming instead like chamomile valium, we arrived in Goanna Avenue, and I pulled up across the road from Number 13. An omen for bad luck?

  ‘Don’t worry, I have it on good authority that superstitions are completely unfounded.’ Grandma marched across the road. Did she know everything I was thinking?

  My thin silver bangles jingled as I walked over to the simple, red-brick house, and the heels of my suede boots clicked on the concrete driveway. I reached the front door and my fist hovered as I plastered a preparatory smile on my face.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Footsteps sounded and a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties opened the door, her raised eyebrows asking me who I was and what I wanted.

  ‘Hi!’ I said with overt and high-pitched enthusiasm. Oops. I sound like a frickin’ chipmunk. If only that was a line of dialogue in one of my books I could press backspace on.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Yes, would Dave be there?’ I put a hand awkwardly on my hip to appear casual, then dropped it to my side. Nice one, Abby.

  ‘Dave!’ the woman yelled behind her, and I flinched at the sudden rise in volume. Maybe Dave was her father or grandfather and had hearing difficulties? I glanced briefly at Grandma with a hopeful expression.

  All hope drained away, however, when Dave emerged from the hallway, pulling iPod earplugs from his ears with a quick tug of the cord. ‘Yeah?’ His gaze travelled from his mother to me, and a flush of heat crept up my face. Dave number one was way too young.

  ‘Someone here to see you,’ the woman said, leaving me alone with the tanned, blond-haired beach boy.

  Dave scanned me up and down. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘Um, sorry. I think I have the wrong Dave Smith. The one I’m looking for is much older, and you’re only …’

  ‘Twenty-three.’

  ‘Twenty-three, yes. Sorry to bother you.’ I went to turn around.

  ‘There’s another Dave Smith in Belle Cove, it’s probably him you’re looking for,’ he said. ‘But,’ he leaned against the doorframe and a tiny smile softened his lips, ‘if you’re new in town and need someone to show you around, I’m your man.’

  What? Oh God, he’s hitting on me?

  ‘Oh.’ I flicked my hand. ‘No, it’s okay. But thanks for the offer. I’m just passing through.’ I flashed a brief smile and turned to walk down the driveway. I couldn’t resist the urge to take another quick look, see if my sense was correct and he was still watching me.

  He smiled and waved. Yep.

  Show me around? The town was tiny and sleepy, I could probably become an honorary local and expert tour guide by myself in about ten minutes.

  I slid into the car and looked at Grandma. ‘Oh well, one down, eleven to go!’

  ‘Yes, onwards and upwards. Although he was quite a dashing young chap. Maybe you should consider his offer of a tour, once all this is over.’ She winked and her pink lips shone in the afternoon sun.

  ‘Seriously? He’s way too young for me, and still lives with his mum. I’ll set my sights a little higher, thank you.’ I started the engine.

  ‘Only six years age difference, that’s not much. You must learn to keep an open mind, Abby Dabby.’ I laughed. She used to call me that when I was a kid. ‘Maybe a fling with a healthy young man is what you need to get back in the game. Some of the best romance novels are those with a younger hero; they have that forbidden yet alluring quality.’

  ‘Grandma! I don’t need a toyboy!’ I flung my hands in the air, then realised if Dave was still watching me, sitting in my car having a heated discussion with the empty seat next to me, he’d probably withdraw his offer to be my guide on account of my craziness.

  ‘Ooh, did you ever see the old movie All That Heaven Allows? Now that was a great romance with a younger hero. Also the lovely book Take Hold of Tomorrow by Daphne Clair. Or you might be more familiar with the reasonably recent Anyone But You by Jennifer Crusie? Oh! And what about, um … oh what’s it called? … Oh drat, anyway, it was so good and you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife!’

  ‘Grandma!’ Heat crawled up my face again, even though no one was privy to what she was saying but me. ‘Should we go see Dave number two now, while we’re here?’ I put a cross next to twenty-three-year-old Dave’s name on the list I’d made.

  ‘Oh, not now, dear. Let’s stick to our plan, we don’t want to use up all our fun in one go. And I believe you are yet to reach your daily word count goal for your manuscript? Better get back to it. But oh! Here’s an idea to make our journey even more fun.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘After we visit each Dave, I want you to write down something nice about them. It’ll teach you to look for the good in everyone and help you notice things you’d like in a partner of your own.’

  I laughed again. ‘You’re giving me homework now?’

  ‘You should take every opportunity to learn and keep a positive attitude. Now, quick smart! Jot something down before he starts wondering if you’re providing unsolicited surveillance on his property.’

  ‘I guess he was friendly,’ I suggested. ‘In a bit of a flirty, I’m-so-hot-and-I-bet-you-want-me way.’

  ‘Then write it.’

  I scribbled ‘friendly’ next to his name and put the list back in the glove box. ‘There, now let’s go.’

  As I drove off, I couldn’t believe what song came on the classic radio station Grandma had urged me to tune in to. ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. She hummed along, but a slight change in the lyrics of the first line found their way into my mind …

  For the first Dave of Christmas, my grandma gave to me

  A Dave who was only twenty-three …

  Chapter 6

  The next morning I emerged from a hot shower with renewed enthusiasm. Today could be the day. The day we find the right Dave and give Grandma Charlotte the peace and closure she needed to move on. Or up. Or wherever it was. I wrapped a towel around me and opened my suitcase. Huh? I rummaged around.

  ‘What’s the matter, sweetpea?’ Grandma turned from the window she was gazing out of.

  ‘I can’t find my undies. Bras, yes, but no undies.’

  ‘Y
ou mean underpants, dear. Undies is such an ugly word.’

  ‘Underpants isn’t much better a word, in my opinion.’

  ‘Smalls, or knickers, then?’

  ‘Knickers, underpants, I don’t care what they are as long as I find some!’ I yanked my belongings out, but to no avail. I’d forgotten to pack them. There’s always something that gets left behind. At the last writers’ conference I went to I forgot my business cards and ended up creating makeshift ones from scraps of hotel stationery. So professional.

  ‘You’ll just have to wear the ones you had on for now. You can buy some today, I noticed a ladies boutique in the main street of town.’

  I sighed. ‘I’m surprised they have one here, there isn’t even a supermarket or pharmacy.’

  ‘Those conveniences are further south, in Berrinda. But we’ll visit the boutique after we visit the second Dave of Christmas, and after your morning writing session.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’ I dressed in three-quarter length black leggings and a white, oversized off-the-shoulder tunic with fake rips through it, revealing layers of silver lace beneath.

  Grandma eyed me disapprovingly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘In my day, we would put on our best dresses before going out to town. You really should consider upgrading your clothing choices if you want to attract a man. What do you call this style of yours?’

  ‘It’s my own unique form of vintage grunge, if you must know. And if a man doesn’t like the way I dress he can go jump off the nearest bridge.’ I gave a firm nod and put on my dangly dagger earrings. I considered getting out my skull-print belt just to rile her, but it wouldn’t really enhance today’s outfit.

  Grandma flung her hands in the air and sighed, and I grabbed my laptop bag and headed out the door. The only fast breakfast I could find in this sleepy town was a pre-made sandwich or a muffin that looked like volcanic rock. I opted for the cheese and tomato sandwich and coffee and strolled up the walking track to the lookout. I sat at one of the picnic tables and gazed out over the cliff at the view. This town didn’t have much in the way of amenities and cafés, but the circular cove was beautiful. Aqua-blue water sploshed about and I stared at it for a few minutes, lost in my imagination. Soon, the words flowed as I typed into the document on my laptop.

  ‘Ahem.’

  I glanced to the right, where Grandma had sat herself after leaving me in peace for a while to write. I hadn’t even checked Facebook. Maybe the change of scenery was doing my concentration good. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Look at the time. We better get a move on to visit Dave number two, then you can get yourself some lunch and we can go shopping for underp… undies.’ She winked.

  ‘Hang on, need to finish this scene.’ My fingers tapped away at record speed until my characters were about to kiss but were interrupted by … what could they be interrupted by? A phone call or knock at the door? No, too clichéd. Or perhaps a ghost? I chuckled. I doubted my editor would appreciate a change of my contracted contemporary romance story to a paranormal.

  ‘What about a clap of thunder?’ suggested Grandma, peering at the screen. ‘A big storm could ensue, and then she can’t leave his house because it wouldn’t be safe to drive in the downpour and lightning, and then—cue romantic interlude.’

  ‘Oh, you’re good. Maybe we should co-author this one?’ I smiled, inserting the clap of thunder and then adding in some grey clouds earlier in the scene so the storm didn’t come out of nowhere. My stomach grumbled. ‘Okay, let’s see Dave and then get some lunch.’ Not that she could technically join me for a meal, but anyway.

  * * *

  We drove into Railway Lane and pulled up alongside Number 3. The residents here probably didn’t get much sleep on account of the railway line being right behind them. The curtains were open so it looked like someone was home, and hopefully it was Dave.

  Knock-knock. I winced as a splinter from the dilapidated wooden door slid into the skin on my knuckles. ‘Jesus,’ I growled, trying unsuccessfully to scrape it out.

  ‘I doubt he’ll be available at present to help you, dear,’ Grandma joked.

  I looked up from my knuckles and into the eyes of a weary-looking woman with frizzy grey hair.

  ‘Yeah?’ It seemed to take all her effort to speak.

  ‘I’m looking for Dave?’

  ‘He’s where he always is,’ she managed, before sucking in a much-needed breath of oxygen. The scent of stale cigarette smoke hung between us.

  I was about to ask where, when I remembered our phone conversation. ‘Oh, the pub. Of course.’

  She nodded and closed the door before I had a chance to say thanks. ‘I hope you don’t want me to write down something positive about her, Grandma,’ I said.

  ‘No, only the Daves.’ She smiled. ‘Let’s go to the pub.’ That was something I’d never heard my grandma say before. Pubs hadn’t really been her scene.

  That old, thick, musty smell of a country town pub greeted me as I walked into The Belle. Men sat hunched over drinks in the corner watching sport on a television, someone was having a frustrated conversation with a poker machine, and a couple of elderly women ate a lunch of steak and chips by the bar. I eyed the crowd of eleven, hoping to find a man around Grandma’s age. There were two potential candidates; the rest were younger. I casually strolled towards them.

  ‘What can I get you, love?’ the man behind the bar said as he pulled a beer.

  ‘Oh, um, nothing thanks.’

  ‘Nothing? When a woman walks into a bar and doesn’t want something, it means she wants something. And that something is usually a man, am I right?’ He gave me a smug grin.

  Spot on. But not in the sense he assumed. ‘Actually, I’ll have what those ladies are having, thanks. What I meant was, I didn’t want a drink.’

  ‘Oh, well, fair enough.’ He called out to the cook behind the bar for a steak and chips.

  I pretended to browse the pictures hanging on the wall near the old men, then glanced towards them. One of them noticed and smiled. I surreptitiously cleared my throat to encourage Grandma to look at them and hopefully determine if one was the elusive Dave.

  She bent forwards and widened her eyes, looking at them closely from all angles. ‘This one certainly isn’t,’ she said, ‘but I’m not sure about the other one. He looks kind of familiar, but I can’t be sure.’

  Great. I was going to have to ask them. But how? Excuse me, sir, but did you happen to have a love affair with my grandmother back in the 40s? I pretended to eye him curiously, then pointed in a friendly way. ‘You look familiar, if you don’t mind my saying.’

  ‘It’s always nice to be remembered,’ he said.

  ‘You’re not Dave, by any chance, are you? Dave Smith?’

  At the same time as the man opened his mouth to respond, the man behind the bar called out to the other corner of the pub, ‘Hey, Dave, some young lady’s lookin’ for ya.’

  I turned around. A large man in his fifties swivelled, then heaved himself and his ample belly off his chair and walked over to me. ‘Well, well, well, it ain’t every day I have a nice young thing asking for me by name. What can I do you for?’

  Oh great. Another Dave getting all flirty with me. This could potentially turn into the Twelve Dates of Christmas.

  I turned back to the old man. ‘So you’re not Dave?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, miss.’ He shook his head.

  Grandma sighed. ‘Oh, rats!’

  ‘But I am, now what can I get the lovely lady?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s okay, I’ve already ordered lunch. Thanks anyway.’

  He went to the bar and handed over some cash. ‘That should cover it, mate.’

  ‘Oh really, there’s no need to—’

  He held out his hands. ‘I insist. Now come and have a seat and tell me how you know who I am.’

  Over steak and chips I explained to him that I was in fact looking for another Dave, and he was quite disappointed. I thought he might ask for his money
back from the bartender, but when I told him he couldn’t possibly be the Dave I was looking for because he was far too youthful, he brightened right back up. He also explained his theory on how daily beer intake kept the body young due to counteracting the effects of stress, while patting his stomach that tumbled over his trousers.

  After thanking him for the free lunch and gracefully declining his offer to meet for dinner, I walked outside and stopped by the car to write on my Dave Itinerary. ‘Generous’, I noted next to his name, smiling at the fact that it not only alluded to his nature but his build. Our musical anthem for the Twelve Daves in Twelve Days mission played in my mind, and I adjusted the words again accordingly:

  For the second Dave of Christmas, my grandma gave to me

  A Dave with a beer belly …

  * * *

  Next stop: underwear replenishment. I stepped into the ‘boutique’ Grandma had spied and almost cried. Ladies boutique indeed … ladies of a certain age, however. ‘You sure there’s nothing else around here?’ I whispered through gritted teeth to Grandma, then cleared my throat. She held up her hands as if to say ‘take it or leave it’.

  ‘Can I assist you with purchasing some items for your grandmother, perhaps?’ asked the woman behind the counter, who looked about one hundred years old.

  My eyes practically popped from their sockets. ‘My grandmother? You can see her?’ Oh crap. Backspace, backspace! Why couldn’t I learn to think before speaking? ‘I mean, you can see her wearing some of your, um, lovely apparel?’

  ‘Well, dear, I don’t have to see her to know that our quality range will suit just about anyone in the twilight of their life. What is it you’re after?’

  ‘Just some undies,’ I replied, and Grandma nudged me with her elbow, even though I didn’t feel it. ‘I mean, underpants. Knickers!’

  She ushered me to the back of the store and showed me their range. I think I’d prefer to wear my old ones for another day. These were abominably hideous.

  ‘As you can see, we have a good supply of suitable items. Very comfortable and stretchy.’