Mistletoe and Wine

By Maureen Reil

Molly Compton is going home for Christmas to spend the holidays with her family, but this is not such a joyful time that she’s actually looking forward to it after what happened to her last year. For Molly is adamant that she will ‘grin and bear it’ and get through it with the aid of the odd glass of wine come, hail or snow. Even if it means digging up ghosts from her past to sort out the present and help with the future, then she will cope somehow. So with a sprig of mistletoe to hand and a will of iron, Molly Compton is determined to enjoy all the fun of the festivities if it kills her and that is only if she doesn't kill someone else first.

WARNING: This book contains (1) No guaranteed fuzzy feelings of a sentimental nature. (2) No recipes whatsoever to be found written inside its pages. (3) No religious explanations are in this story about the true meaning of Christmas. However, it does contain plenty of Christmas cheer and merriment and yuletide yearnings in this festive funny tale about an ordinary woman who dreads having a Christmas from hell. Only, could she end up having the time of her life instead?

This British short novel is the first in a Christmas Comedy Trilogy and to complete the trio of books, just look out for Mistletoe And Wine 2 followed by Mistletoe And Wine 3.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maureen Reil
• Release date: Nov 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301228348

Maureen Reil

Maureen Reil writes comic commercial fiction and has had over 35 books published, so far, but she's always working on a new manuscript so she wishes to add to that tally with lots of new titles before she's done and dusted. She was born in the city of Liverpool and resides in semi-rural Lancashire UK, but longs to live by the sea. It was always a dream of hers to become a novelist and thanks to her readers, she has fulfilled that ambition, so she couldn't be more grateful if she tried. And Maureen hopes you enjoying reading her books as much as she enjoys writing them.

Book preview

Mistletoe and Wine

By Maureen Reil

Copyright ©2012 Maureen Reil

Updated Edition 2021

This book is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Maureen Reil asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Dedicated to

Book lovers everywhere

Happy Holidays

And all the best for the coming year

Also by the author Maureen Reil

Chick-Lit By Any Other Name (Chick-Lit Collection)

Chick-Lit By Any Other Name 2 (Chick-Lit Collection)

Lily Loves To Love

Sleepyhead Shares A Secret

I Hate Me, Who Do You Hate?

I Did Write What I Know

Chick-Lit Saved My Life (Chick-Lit Trilogy book 1)

Chick-Lit Stole My Life (Chick-Lit Trilogy book 2)

Chick-Lit Staged My Life (Chick-Lit Trilogy book 3)

Chick-Lit Collection

Chick-Lit Trilogy

Mistletoe And Wine 2 (Christmas Comedy Trilogy)

Mistletoe And Wine 3 (Christmas Comedy Trilogy)

Christmas Comedy Trilogy

Let’s Get Married (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Together (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get It Started (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Serious (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Ready To Rumble (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

Let’s Get Physical (Let’s Get Funny Fiction)

The Finch Family Short Break (Comical Vacations Book 0)

The Finch Family Holiday 1 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 2 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 3 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 4 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Holiday 5 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Easter Holiday 6 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Bank Holiday 7 (Comical Vacations)

The Finch Family Christmas Holiday 8 (Comical Vacations)

A Granny Is For Life, Not Just Christmas

Let’s Get Funny Fiction 1 (Three-Book Bundle)

Let’s Get Funny Fiction 2 (Three-Book Bundle)

Let’s Get Funny Fiction (Six-Book Box Set)

Comical Vacations 1 (Three-Book Bundle)

Comical Vacations 2 (Three-Book Bundle)

Comical Vacations 3 (Three-Book Bundle)

Christmas Crackers

Wed To The Wrong Wayne

The Desperate Dater’s Intervention

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Things Can Only Get Better

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Luck Had Nothing To Do With It

Table Of Contents

Christmas Eve

Christmas Day

Boxing Day

New Year’s Eve

New Year’s Day

Christmas Eve

Let me start by saying I hate Christmas, purely because it never lives up to the hype. If you do not build it up, into something impossible to achieve like ‘the perfect Christmas’ then you’ll never be disappointed by it. I really cannot be bothered with the stress of it all. I begrudge the amount of money spent and I abhor the total waste of food that people consume, bin or even end up throwing up down the loo due to the excesses of the season (talking about my own personal experiences here). But most of all, I can’t stand having to travel back home to spend time with my small family in our small town with small minded people that I couldn’t wait to get away from when I’d got myself some waitressing jobs in the city to support my student lifestyle and subsequent career in Human Resources management to date.

To be truthful, my Christmas loathing is mainly because I had to cancel my winter wonderland themed wedding this time last year due to the groom deciding that he did not want the whole marriage, mortgage and kids thing. Therefore, Toby ran away to sea (literally) when he had packed his senior management job in and great pension plan at the firm where I work and still have to endure the sympathy from which sickens me slightly. In his bid to become an unsuccessful treasure hunter, because he has not found any sunken chests of gold as far as I know. Who does that nowadays? Judging by his latest profile picture on the social network site, Toby even looks like a scruffy pirate lately and we are talking Long John Silver here and sadly not Captain Jack Sparrow (who I do find rather sexy).

Toby has grown the short back and sides out to let them naturally curl and he has not shaved either, so is now sporting a dark shabby beard on that wind burnt red face of his. He also went and got his ear pierced to hang a gold hoop in it and if I could have given him an actual hook or even a peg leg to complete the look then believe me I would have, had I gotten hold of him but the coward sent me an email a few days before the big event. I held a bonfire instead of the nuptials and burned the beautiful wedding dress that I never even had the chance to wear, for unluckily he did not jilt me at the altar while the cake also went up in flames. As did the RSVPs, the party favours along with everything else associated with it and him. I was going to be nobody’s Miss Havisham (who is a famous jilted bride character that’s definitely lost the plot from a brilliant Dickens book) for I wasn’t holding onto any baggage for anybody and carrying it around for the rest of my life. No matter how much I had loved him and prayed that he would return to me safe and sound, like some pathetic ‘heroine’ in some soppy romance novel. My ring was even donated into the Salvation Army collection tin as the musical band played us a tune outside ‘BRANDS’ department store in town, last Christmas Eve.

Back to today’s grievances, why do strangers with a clipboard accost you in the street as they assume that you are automatically in a good mood and full of seasonal well wishes and goodwill to all men? With generosity spilling out of you to the point of giving them your personal details so that they can fleece a regular payment from your bank account. Yes, we do know it is all in the name of charity. However, getting quite annoyed and even abusive with potential donors is not the way to go about it. When they clearly state that, they are too busy or that they are not interested right now but later on, they might consider it. I soon feel guilty for not giving, when I notice an unfortunate down-and-out sitting on a bench. Hold on, he bears a massive resemblance to Toby (be it a very rough one) so I rush up to the dude but it is not my ex who takes out his six-pack of beer and resolves to drink in some Christmas cheer. Here was me feeling sorry for him, when he looks blissfully happy just to watch the world go by. Unlike me, who thought I would have sorted this lot by now so I would not have to rush around doing last minute shopping. Only as usual, I am not ready for Christmas and had been putting it off to be truthful.

Also adding to the hatred of Christmas list is the fact that I will have to meet up with ‘old friends’, who I haven’t seen from one year to the next. Thank God, for email I say since I no longer have to buy and write out and send off a bunch of Christmas cards that nobody really gives a damn about anyway and think about the trees that I have saved. Obviously I still have to give ones to my family because they insist on it but seriously, it wouldn’t bother me at all if they didn’t bother with scribbling the same message (Merry Christmas and Happy New Year) that’s on everybody else’s card. Toby is totally off my card list, besides, I would not know where in the world to send it.

Anyhow, I am so glad to have gotten that off my chest and now let us get festive if it kills me and it very nearly did, when some jerk on a pushbike suddenly mounts the pavement to avoid the rush hour traffic and knocks the presents flying out of my hands that I have just purchased. It was me or them that was going down so I chose to stop myself from hitting the deck when I’d grabbed hold of the wooden rail wrapped around the town’s Christmas tree, which was situated at the far end of the high street for a change. Its normal position is at the entrance and takes pride of place and if I am not mistaken, this one is much smaller than on any other given year as I expect the recession that we are supposedly starting to get over is yet to hit these shores. Jeez, mentioning anything to do with the sea just reminds me of Toby.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa,’ shouted the Santa looking guy at the biker, instead of ‘ho, ho, ho all because the youth didn’t stop to help me but just raced off into the distance. Santa started picking up my packages.

‘Thanks, but I can manage the rest,’ I said to Santa as he handed me a couple of holly encrusted bags which had spilled forth their contents, but he would kindly put them back into the carrier bags for me.

‘Merry Christmas,’ he said with what I think was a smile because his eyes screwed up to reveal little laughter lines, but the stiff white beard remained quite still and then he went back to his post of standing outside the large department store called ‘BRANDS’.

‘Yeah, to you too,’ I replied but not meaning it as he walked away.

‘One good turn, deserves another,’ says Santa and rattling his charity tin at me as I had followed him towards the said store.

‘Where’s the Christmas spirit in that, if you want to be paid for helping me?’ I ask as I eyed his handwritten sign, which read in bold block capitals ‘GIVE TO A GOOD CAUSE WITH SANTA CLAUS’ whilst I drop my bags again so that I can rummage around in my handbag for some loose change. I tend to toss it in there rather than actually put in the purse, where it belongs.

‘Ah, I intend to drink in the spirit all right when I’ve finished work . . . if you’d care to join me,’ he replied and his blue eyes twinkled, or was that just the reflection from the fairy lights behind his head?

‘Are you asking me out on a date?’ I ask in surprise.

‘You call it what you want to, sweetheart. To me, it is just a celebration of life and I would like you to drink to that with me. I’ll even throw in a meal if you’ve been a good girl all year,’ he said and like that would seal the deal.

‘Thanks for upping the ante, but I’m sorry, I will have to decline your generous offer. I do not go out with men that I do not know and frankly, cannot see because they are in disguise. And talk about a blind date.’

‘But you already know my name . . . I am, Santa Claus.’

‘Yep, that much I gathered but how do I know you’re a real Santa and not just some con man pretending to be collecting for charity?’

‘I hate to be the one to break it to you but the real Santa Claus doesn’t exist. Didn’t your parents or school friends ever tell you this?’

‘Is that a padded stomach, or a real ale gut?’ I enquired, shaking my head as I picked up my bags to venture in through the entrance.

‘It can be whatever you find sexier. What is your name? I need to know so that I can put it on my list of who’s been naughty or nice.’

‘It’s, Molly if you must know. But I am not telling you my surname . . . you might be some psycho Santa on the sly and that is one of the reasons why I cannot possibly go out with you.’

‘But everyone loves Santa Claus . . .’

‘Not me,’ I shouted back over my shoulder as I stomped right into the loud Christmas music, which rang out from the speakers of the massive multilevel store. Do they sell earplugs here?

After what seemed like I had listened to the same song for the millionth time in a row and ah, you have to love Mariah telling us what she wants for Christmas, not. As I do not know, whether it is just me or is it even playing at the incorrect speed because she sounds almost chipmunk like in my head. Well, I was seriously gagging to get this whole shopping expedition over and done with so that I could just go home to my parent’s house and wrap the damn things up before settling down to a nice glass of red wine. Only I also know in advance that my family will probably spoil my pleasure so I might need two very large glasses or more just to get through the rest of the night.

Whereas, I always set a budget beforehand and then make a list every year and yes I do check the sodding thing twice and every time, I do not stick to it because I always spot something else which I think will be a much more suitable gift. This in turn messes up any chance of being completely organised as I had tried to be in the first place. As I have to then subsequently and religiously, match the prices up so that I do not spend more on one person than the other does and therefore, show any kind of favouritism in the process. See what I mean about hassle, it is nothing but as far as I can see and I really do not see what all the fuss is about.

And to say that my Christmas joy is to be found in the bottom of a wine glass if the truth be known, so that I can blot it all out and just forgive and forget whatever happens. I often find myself telling people who ask if I had had a good Christmas once back in the office in January, when I will usually lie to their trusting faces and state that I had had a peaceful one. Only I know that it will be anything but because we always end up bloody arguing and where’s the peace in that I ask you, unless of course you’re talking hair piece which I have been known to actually remove from my sister’s head when we’d got into a scrap a couple of years ago over a game of Monopoly. Alice had accused me of not being able to count properly and as I am always the banker because of my better mathematical exam results, which I do not hesitate to point out so it was that she had insulted my very ability to do this job successfully, in my drunken eyes anyway.

‘Does this come in another colour?’ I ask the shop assistant as I hold up the bra and knickers matching set in a red so bright, it might be blushing because of its own high-level degree of raunchy sexiness.

‘Nah, but I know what you mean about the colour. It’s shocking,’ she replies, when putting up a sale item ticket on the one next to it.

‘It is rather vulgar . . . I will take it,’ I say and head for the till.

It is the perfect smutty gift for my younger sister Alice. We always try to outdo each other on the tacky side of things and I think I