A Merry Little Christmas (2 page)

Marianne had hugged her with gratitude, and they’d had a pre-Christmas lunch with Pippa and Dan and their family the week before the big day. Marianne had then set off two days before Christmas, and Gabe and Steven had joined them on Christmas Day. Poor Steven had been nearly as bored as she and Gabe were. There was precious little for an eleven-year-old boy to do in the drab London suburb where Marianne had grown up, particularly when he knew no one there. Then Gabriel had taken Steven over to his mum, Eve, for a few days. Eve, though in the past an unreliable mother, seemed in recent years to have sorted herself out, even managing to hold down both a good job and a rich boyfriend, Darren. Gabriel was much more relaxed about Steven visiting her now, and this time around Steven had leapt at the chance to go, Marianne noticed, a little sadly. She worried that since the arrival of the twins, Steven had felt left out, and it must be really hard to take on an extra set of grandparents, who, let’s face it, weren’t
really
interested in him. Though Marianne noticed, gratefully, that Dad had made huge efforts as far as Steven was concerned, but Mum just couldn’t help herself from cooing over the twins. You couldn’t blame her in a way, she’d waited a long time for grandchildren and then to get two for the price of one … Marianne loved her mother dearly, but it was the sort of relationship that benefited from distance – two hundred miles was just about right.

‘Hi Gabe, we’re home.’ Marianne unloaded the car, while the children slept in the back. So much crap for two little people who hadn’t reached the age of two yet; nappies, buggies, car seats, toddler seats for sitting at dinner, two travel cots … And that was without the presents Mum had insisted on buying – a pram set for Daisy and a toy car for Harry – nothing like clinging to stereotypes – as well as countless soft toys, rattles, shiny things with plastic knobs and buzzers on. Marianne felt sure her parents must be nearly bankrupted by the arrival of their twin grandchildren, but nothing she said would stop her mother from buying stuff for them. (‘You can’t spoil babies,’ she’d trilled when Marianne faintly tried to suggest that maybe it was all a bit much.)

‘And it’s fab to see you.’

Gabe. Her heart still did that funny little skipping thing when she saw him standing in the farmhouse doorway in a thick knit sweater and jeans, his dark brown hair slightly mussed up where he’d been running his fingers through it, those deep brown sensitive eyes. She loved that wonderful thrill of knowing he was hers.

‘God, I’ve missed you so much,’ said Marianne, burying her head in his shoulder as he enveloped her in a warm bear hug. ‘Never
ever
let me stay that long with my parents again. Next year they are so coming to us. The twins haven’t slept all week. I’m exhausted.’

‘Me too,’ yawned Gabriel. ‘I had a lamb born last night. The mother had gone off in the dark, and it took Steven, me and Patch ages to find her.’

‘Did Steven have a good time with Eve?’ Marianne felt a pang of guilt. She should have been back in time for Steven to start back at school – she normally was. But her mum had insisted she stay an extra day and come home on Monday. Steven and Gabe had assured her they could cope, but she still felt bad. Since she and Gabriel had got together four years earlier, she’d always been around for the start of term. It didn’t feel right staying away. But since having the twins and juggling her career with motherhood, Marianne had got used to a familiar feeling of being torn in two.

‘I think so,’ something in Gabe’s tone stopped her. He looked pensive, the way he used to when they first met, when Eve had left him and he was coping with being a single dad.

‘What’s Eve done now?’ said Marianne.

‘You remember that choir school she mentioned back in the autumn?’ said Gabe.

‘Yes,’ said Marianne, remembering a conversation about the impossibility of them affording to send Steven to a fee-paying school, however good his voice was.

‘She’s persuaded Steven he should try out for it,’ said Gabe. ‘She’s talking about moving up near Middleminster, and having Steven stay with her and Darren at the weekends. That means we’re going to be fifty miles away, and they’ll be on the doorstep. We’ll never see him.’

‘What does Steven say?’

‘He wants to go,’ said Gabriel. ‘She’s got him so excited about it, and I don’t want to bring him back down to earth.’

‘But surely we can’t afford it,’ said Marianne. ‘Even if we all pitched in together?’

‘There are scholarships apparently,’ said Gabriel, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. ‘I don’t know, Marianne, I know it’s a big opportunity. But to be away from us? I don’t think I could bear it.’

‘Maybe it won’t come to anything,’ said Marianne. ‘After all, he’s got to get in first.’

‘True,’ said Gabriel, ‘but he’s a clever boy, you said so yourself, and with your help he could do it. And Darren knows the Head of Music there. Eve seems to think he’s got a really good chance.’

‘Then you can’t deny him a shot at it,’ said Marianne firmly. ‘If that’s what he wants to do.’

‘I know,’ said Gabriel miserably. ‘I feel really guilty about this, but I don’t want him to go.’

Pippa Holliday slammed down the phone with uncharacteristic anger. ‘Of all the small-minded, patronising, bloody useless pieces of–’ A clicking to her left reminded her that Lucy was there, so she curtailed the expletive she was going to use and said, ‘Oh Luce, it’s that social worker.’

Lucy tilted her face to one side and pulled a grumpy face and shook her head.

‘No, we don’t like her,’ said Pippa with a smile. Lucy always managed to make her laugh, even when things were really grim. ‘She’s being so unhelpful.’

Unhelpful. That was one way of putting it. Yes, Pippa understood there were cuts. Yes, she also understood that Lucy’s case was only one of many that Claire King dealt with daily, and yes probably to Claire-I’ve-no-idea-how-you-do-it King, Pippa and her family weren’t a priority, living as they did in a comfortable house with a reasonably good income, and inconveniently Dan was neither an absentee father nor a wife-beater. Pippa knew she didn’t help her case by presenting a calm unhurried manner to the world, but it was the only way she knew of coping with the difficulties life had thrown at her.

From the first catastrophic moment when she and Dan had been told that their precious longed-for baby daughter had cystic fibrosis, and would grow up needing constant care, Pippa had known she would manage, because what other choice was there? Besides, when she, to her everlasting shame, had fallen apart at the news, Dan had been so together, so strong for the two of them, she knew they’d get through it somehow. Without Dan, she doubted she would have been so calm, so capable, so
coping.
So many men in his position might have walked out on them, but Dan loved their daughter with a constant and devoted tenderness that Pippa could only marvel at and be grateful for. His support and love had kept them all afloat, making huge efforts to ensure the boys never missed out on activities because of Lucy; always trying to be there for hospital visits when he could, and running the farm to boot. Dan. Her perfect hero.

And they had coped and managed all this time because eventually, after long years and battles, Pippa had organised respite care for her daughter, giving the rest of the family precious time together. Pippa hated to use the word
normal
– but doing the things that other families took for granted, going for long walks in the country, having a pub lunch without establishing first whether they had disabled access, and having to face out people’s stares. People could be so cruel, even in this allegedly enlightened day and age. And now that was all about to be taken away from them, as Claire bloody King had just informed her that due to a tightening of budgets, Lucy might lose her precious respite care.

‘It’s not definite, but–’

Reading the subtext, Pippa knew Claire thought there were more needy, deserving families than hers. There probably were, but that didn’t make it right. Since Lucy had been going to respite care, Pippa had had some precious time for herself. Not a lot, but enough for her to be able to cope with the demands of her beautiful, gorgeous daughter, and feel she was still looking after her boys and husband too. Without that lifeline she felt she might sink.

‘I’m sure you’ll manage,’ said Claire, ‘you’re so calm. And you have so much support. It will be fine.’

‘And what if it’s not?’ said Pippa frankly. ‘Having the respite care is what keeps me calm. Without it I don’t know what I’d do.’

She put the phone down in frustration. There was no point taking it out on Claire. The woman was only doing her job. But still. She looked at her precious daughter, sitting in her custom-made wheelchair, sighing to cheer her up – Lucy had an instinct for sniffing out when Pippa was sad and stressed, which was one of the most lovable things about her – and wondered how they would cope. Lucy was nearly ten now and getting bigger all the time. There might come a point when Pippa couldn’t lift her or bath her, or do all the little jobs she needed. It was like having a toddler for life. A large overgrown toddler, with hormones. For the first time since that terrible day when Lucy had been born, Pippa really felt overwhelmed. What if, after all she
couldn’t
cope? What would they do then?

Marianne was simmering a lamb stew on the Aga, in the homely country kitchen she and Gabriel had recently renovated in oak, while the twins sat in their high chairs banging spoons on the table, giggling away at each other. It was a deep and abiding relief to her that they were so happy in each other’s company; they kept themselves usefully occupied when she was busy. It was a wintry Monday afternoon and Gabriel had taken Steven over to have a look around Middleminster. Marianne had thought of coming with them as she wasn’t working, but decided that the twins would probably be too distracting, and it might be better for Gabriel to do this with Steven on his own. She also hoped that it might persuade Gabriel that this was really a good idea.

She was just serving the twins’ portions into two identical plastic bowls when an animated Steven burst through the door, followed by Gabriel, looking slightly less than thrilled. Marianne was caught afresh with the realisation of how similar father and son were getting. Steven had grown a lot recently and his hair had darkened, and his eyes, though blue, retained something of his father’s look about them.

‘So what’s it like?’

‘It was fab, Marianne!’ Steven was jumping about with glee. ‘They’ve got a brilliant football pitch and I could get to play cricket too!’

Steven had started playing cricket the previous summer, and been disappointed to learn that the local secondary school hadn’t got cricket on the curriculum.

‘What about the choir?’ laughed Marianne, caught up with his infectious enthusiasm. ‘I mean, that’s the main reason for going.’

‘It was cool, wasn’t it, Dad?’ Steven’s eyes lit up. Unusually for a boy, he loved singing – and had a talent for it too.

‘Very cool,’ agreed Gabriel, ‘but you have to get in first.’

‘We’d better get started on those practice tests, hadn’t we?’ said Marianne, giving Steven a hug. Since the idea of Middleminster had first been mooted in the autumn, she had occasionally run through a past paper with Steven. He was a bright boy, and she saw no reason why he couldn’t get in, but he needed more experience of the entrance tests if he were to stand a chance. Marianne looked at Gabe and gave him an encouraging smile. She knew how hard this was for him. On the one hand, he wanted to give his son the best chance he could have, of course he did. But on the other, Gabe had no desire to lose Steven to a choir school fifty miles away, despite Marianne’s pointing out it
was
a good opportunity if Steven wanted to take it.

‘Mum says Darren knows someone at the school who might be able to help,’ said Steven.

‘I gathered that,’ said Gabe. ‘If you’re going to get in, I’d rather you did it on your own merits.’

‘So you did like it then?’ Marianne said as Steven disappeared upstairs to play on his Xbox.

‘It’s a great school,’ admitted Gabe. ‘And I could see Steven loved it. Hell,
I
loved it. You should have seen the facilities they have. I think Steven could do well there.’

‘That’s good isn’t it?’

‘Yes …’ Gabriel had a slightly forlorn look on his face. One she hadn’t seen in a long time.

‘I sense a
but
here,’ said Marianne.

‘Eleven is very young to be away from us,’ said Gabriel. ‘I hate the thought of him going away. And if Eve does move up here, we won’t even have him every weekend.’

‘I know,’ said Marianne, ‘and I do understand, but if Steven really likes it …’

‘And he does,’ said Gabriel with a rueful smile. ‘I’m being selfish.’

‘No you’re not,’ said Marianne giving him a hug. ‘You love your son. Which is perfectly natural, and is one of many reasons that I love you. And here’s another.’

She handed Gabe Daisy’s bowl, and she took Harry’s, and together they fed the twins. It was one of the most fun parts of a hectically busy domestic routine, and one which always made her happy and grateful that she’d found Gabriel four years ago, when she’d nearly left Hope Christmas after Luke Nicholas had broken her heart. As she’d hoped, five minutes of making aeroplane noises for the twins cheered Gabriel up no end, and his mood was much lighter by the time they were clearing up.

‘Try not to worry about Steven,’ Marianne said, lifting Daisy out of her high chair and popping her into the playpen that sat in the corner of the kitchen. ‘I know it’s hard, but even with a nod from Darren’s mate, he’s not certain to get in.’

‘True,’ said Gabe, carrying Harry to join his sister. ‘And even Eve admitted we can’t afford it if he doesn’t get a scholarship.’

‘There, you see,’ said Marianne, kissing him. ‘No need to waste your energy on ifs and buts. It might never happen. Why don’t we just enjoy what we have?’