A Merry Little Christmas (23 page)

‘All right, all right,’ said Cat holding her hands up. ‘So there’s really nothing to worry about?’

‘Just a bit stressed out about my exams,’ muttered Mel.

‘There’s always retakes,’ said Cat, ‘if it’s that bad.’ Nudging her daughter’s knee, ‘Although I’m sure it won’t be,’ she continued.

Mel said nothing.

‘I know,’ she said, ‘how about you and me sneak off for a little girlie shopping trip tomorrow morning and let the others come here? I’m guessing you’re feeling a bit too old for Mickey Mouse these days?’

Mel smiled suddenly, reminding Cat how rarely she did it anymore. Cat searched her face anxiously for clues. Was it just exam stress? Or was something else wrong? Mel was so damned cagey these days, it was really hard to tell.

‘How’s it going?’ Phillip came out to take his turn on the combine harvester, as Pippa drove back from the fields with a trailer full of grain.

‘Getting there,’ she said. ‘The boys, Mum and Dad, have been a great help. But it’s going to be a late night. I’ll be glad when Gabe’s back next week.’

Traditionally Pippa and Dan had always looked after Gabe’s farm while he was away and vice versa. And normally each couple only took one week’s holiday. But this year, aware of how much Gabe had put himself out for her family, and conscious that it had at times been a strain for Marianne, Pippa had insisted that he take a fortnight off.

‘We’ll manage,’ she told him, when he protested. ‘Now go on, book that bloody holiday, before I change my mind.’

She hadn’t factored in quite what a strain it was, running two farms with barely any support.

‘And Dan?’

Pippa shook her head.

‘I can’t get him interested at all. He’s so demotivated. Feels that he’s let us all down or something. The neurologist did say there might be a dip in his confidence, but I wasn’t expecting this. I mean, I know his injuries still trouble him, and he can’t quite do what he did, but physically there’s nothing to stop him.’

‘Should I have a word?’

‘Could you?’ said Pippa, feeling overwhelming gratitude towards her father-in-law, of whom she was very fond. ‘He doesn’t seem to listen to me anymore. The doctor keeps telling me it will take time, but how much time does he need?’

At least they were having a good harvest. After the difficulties they’d had this year, and the price of milk plummeting, a holiday had been out of the question, with or without Dan’s accident. Luckily Lucy’s school offered a two-week residential holiday in the middle of the summer, and for the boys, helping out with the harvest was a great treat. Pippa wasn’t even sure if they’d missed going away.

She returned to the task in hand, unloading the grain into big silos, where it could be threshed. Andy was at least a hard worker, and it was with a quiet sense of achievement that Pippa noted that they were halfway through with the harvest. Luckily the weather was holding out. The brook at the bottom of the lane had run dry. It was strange now to imagine it bursting its banks and flooding the house as it had done a few years previously. To think then she’d thought she had a lot to contend with.

Pippa was gratified to see Dan’s mum approaching with tea and cake – and her heart skipped a painful beat as she saw Dan was with her. He seemed to have aged so much in the last few months, she thought, seeing how he held himself hunched and looked so lost and sad. If only she could help him and put things right. If only life were that simple.

‘Hey, you came,’ she said, giving him a welcoming kiss. ‘We’ve had a good day.’ She was careful to choose her words. While she felt triumphant for what they’d achieved, she didn’t want him to think she was disappointed with him.

‘Great,’ Dan managed a small smile.

‘The boys have been brilliant,’ Pippa continued.

‘Dad, I drove the tractor,’ boasted George.

‘And nearly put it in the ditch,’ said Nathan, poking him.

‘That’s my boys,’ said Dan, ruffling their hair in an affectionate gesture Pippa hadn’t seen for some time.

‘We could do with some help tomorrow?’ Pippa said questioningly.

Dan looked pensively across the fields where a golden sunset blazed through a gap in the hills.

‘Shepherd’s delight,’ he said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

He gave a small smile, and Pippa laced her hands round his.

‘One step at a time,’ she murmured. ‘One step at a time.’

FACEBOOK status EURODISNEY!!!

Jen17:
Lucky you!

Ellie:
Having fun?

Kaz:
Have you had your photo taken with Mickey Mouse yet?

Mel:
No. Goofy.

Kaz:
That good?

Mel:
Worse.

Jen17:
Aw I love Eurodisney.

Mel:
It would be ok without my family.

Ellie:
Why?

Mel:
They’re the most embarrassing family in the world. Doh.

Jen17:
Wish I was there.

Mel:
Wish I wasn’t

Kaz:
Miss you babes.

Mel:
Me too. Damn phone dying. Laters.

Teenage Kicks

Is there anything worse than being dragged on a family holiday when you’re sixteen? I could have stayed at home. It would have been ok. It’s not like I was going to have wild parties or anything. Not feeling the way I do.

I’m worried. Really worried. No. TERRIFIED. What if I
am
pregnant? None of my clothes seem to fit. Even Dad mentioned he thinks I’m fat and he never notices anything.

I keep wearing baggy tops and hoping no one will notice. And I feel so sick. All the time.

But how can I be pregnant? I’ve come on since we’ve been away. I didn’t think you had periods when you were pregnant. But maybe you do. I wish Best Mate was here. She knows stuff like that.

And right now, I really really wish I could talk to Mum about it. But I know she’ll be really angry. And worse, disappointed. I don’t think I could bear that.

And maybe I’m not pregnant anyway. Maybe I am just getting fat. I’ll wait till I get home. Take another test. Tell her then.
IF
I have to.

‘So, have you thought about Christmas yet?’ Marianne groaned inwardly. It had admittedly taken three days for Mum to work her way up to the subject, but suddenly, here they were. She could have picked a better moment, thought Marianne disgruntledly. They’d actually had a lovely day. It being the first sunny day of the holiday so far, they’d spent the afternoon on the beach, where the twins had happily discovered the pleasures of sand and tipping buckets of water over their heads. And now as they were sitting on the prom eating fish and chips, watching the sun go down while avoiding the seagulls, Mum had to ruin it all.

Marianne and Gabriel exchanged glances.

‘Well, the thing is, Mum,’ said Marianne, ‘we were thinking …’

‘That you’ll come for the whole fortnight like last year? How wonderful,’ interjected Mum.

‘Erm – no,’ said Marianne. ‘You see – well really – Christmas can be such a busy time of year for Gabriel, it’s actually really difficult for us to get away for any length of time. And you can’t really spare me for that long, can you?’

She dug Gabriel in the ribs, to make sure of his response.

‘No, I can’t,’ said Gabriel, completely straight faced. ‘It’s going to be difficult.’

‘But you managed all right last year,’ said Mum looking puzzled.

‘Ah, but he didn’t,’ said Marianne, seized with a creative spurt. ‘He just put on a brave face for me. And it was really tough on Steven too. You know he’s very attached to me, and he doesn’t see much of his own mother …’

A low blow, but one that might hit home. Despite showing scant interest in Steven since her grandchildren had been born, in Marianne’s mother’s eyes he would remain forever more, ‘that poor little boy with the wicked mother’.

‘Oh,’ Mum began to look a little doubtful – doubtful was definitely good. Marianne gave a discreet thumbs-up sign to Gabriel and he chipped in with, ‘And we feel there are so many of us now, it’s such a lot of work for you.’

‘I don’t mind,’ began Mum.

‘That’s not what you said last Christmas,’ put in Dad.

‘Of course you don’t mind,’ said Marianne, ‘and we really appreciate it, but we thought you deserved to put your feet up this year. Give you more time to play with the twins …’

‘Now, that’s a good idea,’ said Dad, and Marianne could have hugged him.

‘I suppose that would be nice,’ said Mum. She looked so unsure, Marianne hugged her instead.

‘We’d really love it if you and Dad came to us instead,’ she finished triumphantly.

There was a pause until Marianne’s mum tried to assimilate what had just happened.

‘Well, I for one think that’s an excellent idea,’ said Dad. ‘I hate carving turkey. I’d much rather someone else did it.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Gabriel. ‘Jenny and Nigel, really we’d love to have you. We thought we’d have open house this year.’

‘We did?’ Marianne looked slightly aghast – that hadn’t been part of the plan.

‘We’ll stay put, but anyone who wants to can come to us.’

‘Oh that sounds wonderful,’ said Marianne’s mum, warming to the idea. By the time she got back home Marianne knew she would be claiming it as her own. ‘Shall we let Matthew and Marcus know?’

‘Er, yes, I suppose so,’ said Marianne weakly. ‘The more the merrier.’

Their farmhouse was large, but not
that
large. ‘And I know Auntie Mags is going to be on her own this Christmas …’

Gabriel was in danger of exploding with laughter, so Marianne tactfully suggested it was time they went back to the caravan to put the twins to bed, while her parents stayed out for a drink.

‘Oh my dear God, what have you done?’ said Marianne, when they collapsed, giggling hysterically, into their room after the twins had settled down.

‘I don’t care,’ said Gabriel. ‘We’ve got what we wanted. Christmas at home. Our way. The whole bloody family can come for all I care.’

‘
You
don’t have to do the cooking,’ said Marianne throwing a pillow at him.

‘But I do carve a mean turkey,’ said Gabriel, throwing her such a sexy look, she felt shivers up her spine. ‘Now, I think we’ve thought about other people quite enough for one night. It’s time to think about us.’

‘If you insist, Mr North,’ said Marianne, falling readily into his arms, ‘if you
absolutely
insist.’

‘Oh my word, would you look at the price of those shoes!’ Cat stood in front of a smart shop on the Champs Elysées. She had no intention of buying anything here – her purse not even stretching to a single shoe – but Mel had never been to Paris, and Cat felt duty bound to make it part of her fashion education. Although it was depressing watching smart elegant Parisian women traipsing along in their high heels, while she felt footsore and weary in her flats.

Cat glanced at Mel, looking casually trendy in jeans and baggy Hollister t-shirt, and not for the first time wished she was young again. Mel had made a bit more effort with her appearance today, and didn’t look as pale as she had done of late. She was a natural beauty. Cat felt a sudden stab of jealousy, followed immediately by guilt. What kind of a mother was jealous of her daughter? But sometimes, Cat couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Mel had it all before her; uni, boyfriends, career, family.

Oh stop, Cat said to herself, stop being such an old grump.

‘They are amazing though, aren’t they?’ said Mel, eyeing up a pair of incredibly high heeled red Jimmy Choos in the window. ‘I’d give anything for a pair.’

‘Well, get good grades, a good degree, a good job, never have children and maybe one day you’ll afford to buy them,’ laughed Cat.

‘Did you have to?’ Mel snapped.

‘Have to what?’ Cat was bewildered by the sudden change of mood. So far today, she and Mel had had a fun girlie day of the sort they hadn’t had in a long while.

‘Go on about exams,’ grumbled Mel. ‘I’ve got my results when we get back.’

‘Oh, those,’ said Cat. ‘Come on, hon. You’ve probably done better than you think. And if it
does
turn out to be bad news, there are always retakes. Nothing is impossible. And I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but really at your age, you do have plenty of time.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Mel replied sarcastically.

‘Mel, are you sure you’re okay?’ Once again, she felt Mel was excluding her somehow. Cat couldn’t escape a nagging doubt that there was something she was missing.

‘For the last time, Mum, nothing’s wrong,’ said Mel. ‘Do stop going on about it. Now come on, where can we go next?’

‘Do you fancy a trip to Montmartre?’ said Cat. ‘It’s so romantic. It’s one of my favourite spots in Paris. I’ll even buy you a really expensive cup of coffee.’

‘Sounds great,’ said Mel, who having done both French and Art GCSE, had previously expressed an interest in visiting the area to see the artists in action.

An hour later, having ambled happily through the cobbled streets, Cat and Mel found a café where Cat ordered coffee and hot chocolate for Mel. As they sat down, one of the street artists approached them and asked if he could draw their picture.

Cat would normally have said no, but Mel was clearly thrilled to be asked.

‘Oh please, Mummy, can we?’ Suddenly Cat was transported back ten years ago when those words were enough to pierce the most hardened of parental hearts. She thought of all the times she and Mum had come away together when she was young, and how she treasured the photos they had taken together. An actual portrait would be a special reminder of a lovely day with her daughter.

‘Oh go on then,’ she said. ‘You only live once.’

So they sat, leaning against one another in the afternoon sun, in the shadow of Sacré Coeur, while the artist captured their likeness in a few swift strokes. Just as Cat went to pay, the artist said, ‘Et pour la maman,’ and swiftly drew a miniature version of the pair of them. Cat tried to pay him extra, but he waved her away, saying, ‘La belle maman, la belle fille. C’est charmante.’