Christmas for Beginners: Fall in love with the ultimate festive read from the Sunday Times bestseller

by Carole Matthews

  And I admit that I hadn’t even considered where it might go. At that moment Lucas arrives. He has his hood up and his hands jammed in his pockets. It’s a cold morning and will have been even chillier up in the fields. His breath is making clouds in the air.

  I nod towards the tree. ‘Look at this! Where do you think we should put it?’

  ‘Wow. That is one bad motherfucker of a tree,’ he says, gazing at it slightly wide-eyed.

  ‘Lucas!’

  He shrugs. ‘We should put it by the barn where the nativity will be. We can secure it to the building, so it doesn’t blow over if we get a gale.’

  ‘Good plan. Do you want to help?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘Not really. Make sure it’s far enough away from Anthony and the alpacas so that they can’t eat it.’

  It’s a beautiful specimen and will not be improved by any of our lot deciding that it’s a buffet lunch. The mayor holds out a hand to Lucas and they do a fist-bump and a grab handshake. ‘Good to see you again, mate.’

  Lucas isn’t weird with him, which is a good sign.

  Then Alan appears and together with the truck driver, Lucas and the mayor, they all unload the monster fir tree. With much heaving, grunting and shouting, they position it in the yard near the barn. When it’s up, it looks even more beautiful, full and lush. The scent of pine from it is fresh and invigorating. The kids are enthralled and take loads of photos for social media. When it’s fully secured, Alan climbs to the very top of our longest ladder and winds the lights down from the top.

  ‘I told you we needed all those,’ Bev says to me. ‘I had a premonition. It’s the gypsy blood in me.’

  It’s the shopaholic in her, more like.

  In all the commotion, I notice that Lucas and the mayor are chatting away on the far side of the yard. If only he had such an easy relationship with his father.

  As soon as the tree is finished, we decide to have a trial run for the lights and Bev asks the mayor to do the honours. After a fashion.

  ‘Matt,’ she yells at him. ‘Do your Thang!’

  He gives her a thumbs up and gets into position at the base of the tree. The kids all huddle round him as he stands and booms out, ‘I declare this Christmas tree open.’

  Then Alan flicks the necessary switch and all the lights shine out.

  All the kids cheer and, even though it’s not yet dark, the myriad colourful lights sparkle for all they’re worth. The mayor looks very pleased with himself as well he might.

  ‘Top job,’ Bev shouts. ‘You’re booked!’

  He stops and chats to all of our students, taking time with them all.

  ‘Bloody big tree,’ Alan mutters and gives it one last approving glance before he disappears into the depths of the barn again.

  ‘I think you deserve a well-earned cup of tea and a piece of Bev’s cake,’ I say to the mayor. Though I don’t know what she’s brought in today.

  ‘That would be great.’

  ‘We need to go through some stuff for the open day,’ Bev says. ‘If you’ve got time.’

  ‘I’m yours for the morning,’ the mayor answers. ‘Happy to do all I can to help.’

  Once again, I find myself warming to this gentle, easy-going man. He has a calming way about him and the children respond well to it. I find myself smiling.

  Matt Eastman turns to me and, when he sees my expression, says, ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to thank you again. You’ve made a lot of people very happy.’

  He grins at me. ‘Then my work here is complete.’

  ‘I hope not,’ I say. ‘We all like having you around.’

  As the rest of the students head for the tea room, I see Penny hanging back and say to Bev and Matt, ‘I’ll catch up with you in a minute.’

  I go over to her where she’s standing staring at our latest addition. ‘You like the tree?’

  ‘It’s nice.’ But her answer doesn’t hold any great enthusiasm.

  ‘But? Not a fan of Christmas?’

  She shakes her head. ‘My dad’s out nearly every night at some work party or another. Me and Mum dread him coming home.’

  ‘He’s drunk?’

  ‘Usually.’ Her look of resignation has me undone. ‘Sometimes he passes out and we have to put him to bed. Sometimes he uses Mum as a punchbag. It could go either way.’

  ‘This is a terrible situation,’ I say to her. ‘Would your mum consider leaving?’

  ‘I don’t know how she can put up with much more,’ Penny says. ‘He’s getting worse. Every little thing sets him off. But where will we go? How will we live? Mum doesn’t have a well-paid job or any money of her own. He’s seen to that.’

  Like so many of the students who’ve passed through our gates, they’re dealing with situations that are beyond their years. When they should be feeling safe and cossetted, concentrating on their own lives and exams, instead they’re up to their ears in adult issues. It makes me angry that people can be so selfish as to rob their own kids of their childhood.

  ‘There are refuges that you could both go to.’

  ‘I don’t think she’d do that.’ Penny folds her arms. I don’t ever think I’ve seen her look so miserable. ‘I’ve been googling places, but she doesn’t seem interested.’

  ‘Would it help if I talked to your mum?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘She doesn’t really talk to anyone but me. All her friends are gone. Just as he wants it. She pretends everything’s OK, but we both know it isn’t.’

  ‘Is she coming to our open day with you?’

  ‘She says so. It’ll depend on whether her bruises are on show or not. If she’s got a black eye or a split lip, then she’ll likely stay at home.’

  How terrible to live your life like that. How does anyone cope in that situation? I open my arms to her and, with only a slight hesitation, she steps into them and I give her a big hug. She feels so insubstantial, a wisp of a girl, all skin and bones. There’s no doubt it’s having an impact on her physical and mental health to live in so toxic a situation. If only her parents could put her welfare first. We stay like that and rock together for a few moments.

  ‘I’ll try to help,’ I say. ‘If I can. But you know you can always talk to me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘But talking doesn’t stop him hitting her.’

  ‘No,’ I agree. ‘There has to be something else we can do.’

  Penny shrugs. ‘She has to want to do it. I don’t know if she does.’

  As we walk arm-in-arm to join the others, I think there must be a way that I can help her mum to break this violent cycle, for the sake of herself and the sake of her daughter.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I worry about Penny for the rest of the day and it’s only the fact that I have my own issues to deal with that makes me put those thoughts to one side.

  As I can delay it no longer, I raise the matter of attending Shelby’s panto with Lucas. The night has drawn in and the temperature has dropped. Nevertheless, we’re in the barn and he’s taken it upon himself to cut the alpacas’ toenails before we put them to bed. You’d think he was trying to murder them, given the fuss they’re making.

  Tina Turner’s already been done and is sulking in the corner. Now I’m holding Johnny Rotten’s bitey end while Lucas deals with his hind legs. This is no one’s favourite job.

  ‘Calm down now,’ Lucas coos as he tries to keep a firm hold on a wriggly alpaca. ‘It will all be over in a moment.’

  Johnny howls with indignation. There are many, many things that alpacas don’t like doing and standing on three legs is one of them.

  ‘This is for your own good,’ I add.

  Our bad boy of the alpacas is having none of it. He kicks out and hisses.

  ‘To think I could be a record producer,’ Lucas says flatly.

  ‘There’s still time,’ I tell him. ‘You’re young enough and bright enough to do whatever you want.’

  ‘You sound li
ke my father.’

  ‘That’s no bad thing.’ Then I take a deep breath. ‘Speaking of which . . .’

  Lucas scowls at me as he manoeuvres the nail clippers.

  ‘It’s his opening night on Wednesday and he’s invited us both to go and watch the panto and then attend the after-show party.’

  ‘I’d rather be stuck in a lift for two days with nothing but the soundtrack from Frozen playing,’ Lucas says.

  I can’t tell him that I feel pretty much the same. ‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand. Ken will pick us up, whisk us there and then bring us back afterwards. We don’t have to stay, but I think it would be a nice thing to do. It’s a big step for your dad.’

  ‘He’s playing the baddie in a frigging panto. Get a grip.’

  ‘We should be supportive, if we can.’

  ‘You be supportive. I’m not going.’

  ‘OK.’ I’ll give him time to think about it overnight and raise it tomorrow.

  ‘There’s no point raising it again tomorrow. I’m not going.’

  I didn’t even say that out loud. Hmm. Am I that predictable? Obviously.

  Johnny hops around a bit as Lucas moves to his hind legs. ‘Easy, boy. Easy,’ he says as he settles in to clip the rear nails. ‘The party will consist of warm wine, canapés based on dead animals and a room full of tossers all high on their own self-importance.’

  He may have a point.

  ‘It’s not exactly my favourite way to spend an evening,’ I remind him. ‘But sometimes we have to do things for the ones we love.’

  ‘You might have to,’ Lucas says. ‘I don’t.’

  Johnny kicks out and skitters away from Lucas, so I tie his halter to the fence and jump into the pen. I lean my weight against Johnny’s back end to stop him bouncing away and try to soothe him as I do.

  For my trouble he stamps on my big toe. ‘Ouch. Thanks for that, John!’ That will be another toenail lost for me. Seems to be a regular occurrence. I’ll have to enter him in the accident book – again.

  Lucas moves in once more and this time Johnny deigns to lift his leg so that Lucas can reach his toes.

  ‘You’re a stubborn old cuss,’ Lucas murmurs to him. ‘You know this will feel better when it’s done.’

  And we do them every couple of months, so it’s not as if it’s something new. After a few minutes of wrangling and some swift clipping, Lucas pats his rump. ‘All done. There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  Johnny has one last defiant kick out, but misses us both.

  So we change animals and begin subjecting Rod Stewart to the ignominy of an alpaca pedicure. Lucas takes a firm grip and I move to the front to scratch his neck to distract him. Time for a change of subject with Lucas too. There’s only so far you can push alpacas and teenagers.

  ‘You seem to get on well with the mayor.’

  ‘He’s not a dickhead and he likes poetry. Not poncy dead poets either. Modern stuff.’

  ‘It’s nice that you have something in common.’ A pause while he swears under his breath at Rod. ‘How’s the poem for the nativity coming along? Have you finished it yet?’

  ‘Yeah. No. Sort of.’

  ‘Oh good. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about then.’

  Lucas snorts. ‘If I told you it was the best thing I’d ever written you’d still worry about it.’

  ‘True.’

  Lucas risks a smile. ‘You’re hopeless.’

  ‘I have my moments,’ I bat back. Then while we experience a brief time where Lucas is feeling relatively chatty, I venture, ‘How’s it going with Aurora?’

  He doesn’t look at me when he answers, ‘All right.’

  ‘You haven’t seen her?’

  ‘We’re both busy,’ he replies, but he’s concentrating a little too hard on Rod’s toes.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘She’s fine,’ he says. ‘I like her. Don’t read anything more into it than that.’

  ‘OK.’ Clearly, that’s out of bounds too. I’ll move onto safer ground. ‘What do you want for tea? We’ve got mushrooms.’

  ‘Mushrooms it is.’

  I stop and look at him. He’s struggling with Rod, so I go round to help him again and steady the alpaca’s back end. Sometimes Lucas looks so small, so vulnerable that I come over all protective. ‘I want you to be happy.’

  ‘I’ll have some tofu with the mushrooms then.’

  ‘I don’t mean with your tea. I mean with life.’

  ‘I am happy.’ He pauses in his nail trimming and bares his teeth at me in a rictus smile. ‘Delirious.’

  ‘I might not be your mum, but I love you like one.’

  ‘Weirdo.’

  Then that’s the last of the alpacas tortured and Lucas lets go. He stretches his shoulders.

  ‘You’ve done a great job there.’ Praise where praise is due. He might grumble a lot, but he does work very hard on the farm and has a great way with the animals. ‘You can have first shower.’

  ‘OK.’

  We put the alpacas to bed and, when we walk across the yard, Lucas lets me put my arm round his shoulders.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It’s agreed that I’ll go to Shelby’s opening night tomorrow. Gah! Ken will pick me up and take me straight to the theatre, which means I’ll just about have time to do the last feed with Bev. It’ll be tight, but we’ll manage. After that, she’s going to stay here for the evening with Alan until I come home.

  ‘You don’t mind?’ I ask her.

  ‘That’s the forty-second time you’ve asked me the same thing,’ Bev says. ‘Ask me again and I might have to kill you.’

  ‘But you really don’t mind?’

  ‘Where’s that spade?’ she says looking around the yard.

  ‘OK.’ I hold up a hand. ‘I can take a hint.’

  ‘Go. Enjoy yourself. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘Oh no, it won’t.’

  Bev points a finger at me. ‘See what you did there.’

  I’m dreading it. Of course I am. Plus I haven’t yet told Shelby that Lucas isn’t coming. He’ll be so disappointed.

  A car pulls up at the gate and it’s Ringo’s celebrity hairdresser, Christian Lee. Perfect timing for the little pony’s star-quality cut as his fringe is starting to make his face itch.

  We wave Christian into the yard and he gets out of the car. As always he looks totally incongruous in our setting. Today he’s dressed in his usual flamboyant style, wearing fuchsia pink chinos and a black silk shirt with white trainers. Obviously ideal for cutting the hair of a frisky pony.

  He gives me one of his all-encompassing bear hugs. ‘Darling, lovely to see you. Is this a good time? I was passing and thought I’d give my client a snip.’

  ‘It’s perfect timing. The ponies are down in the barn, so Ringo won’t be too muddy.’

  ‘Excellent. I hate it when you make me go yomping about in fields.’ Christian curls his lips in distaste. ‘It offends the city boy in me.’

  ‘Is it all right if some of the new students watch you to see the kind of A-list treatment he gets?’

  ‘Yes. Not a problem, sweetie.’ He casts a critical glance over my own locks, as always. ‘You look like you need a short back and sides too. I can’t remember when you were last done.’

  I can. A few weeks ago with my kitchen scissors. I’ll not tell Christian that, though. My haircuts are distinctly more sporadic than Ringo’s, but usually done by Christian or, failing that, by my own fair hand which drives him mad.

  Our high-maintenance stylist gets his kit from the back of his car and we go through to the barn where he cuts Ringo’s hair while entertaining his enthralled audience.

  When he’s finished, he says, ‘I’m not in a rush. I’ve got time to do yours now if you like?’

  ‘How can I possibly refuse?’ So I get Jack to look after the dogs while we go into the caravan as Christian is less keen on an audience of inattentive puppies and it’s too cold to cut my hair outside in the yard as he often does.

>   While he makes himself some tea, I quickly wash my hair. As Christian will see what state it’s in, I throw on some conditioner too.

  ‘I’m going to Shelby’s opening night tomorrow,’ I tell him when I’m seated in the kitchen area and he’s snipping away. ‘I suppose I should make an effort.’

  He laughs at my reticence. ‘That’s the spirit.’

  ‘You know that I prefer animals over people any day of the week.’

  ‘I’m very honoured that you tolerate me,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there too.’

  ‘You will?’ That cheers me immensely. ‘At least there’ll be one friendly face I know.’

  ‘I’ll see if we can sit together. Is my delicious godson coming?’

  ‘Sore point. Lucas won’t even consider it.’

  ‘That’s a shame. We could have fun together.’

  ‘He’s out riding at the moment, but I’ll put it to him when he comes back. He might change his mind if he knows you’ll be there.’

  ‘I hope so. I haven’t seen him for ages. Is he well? Behaving?’

  ‘Yes, he’s doing fine. He’s such a bright boy.’

  ‘Still writing his poetry?’

  ‘Yes. I hope you’ll come along to our open day and nativity. He’s doing a poem for that.’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling – diary permitting. It’s my busiest time of the year.’

  ‘I’m not sure Shelby will be around. He’s so tied up with this panto.’

  ‘Is everything OK with Shelby, too? I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but he seems strange, distracted.’

  ‘I don’t really see a lot of him now that he’s based in Birmingham,’ I confess.

  ‘It’s nothing personal, Molly. I know his lifestyle takes some adjusting to. It’s just the way his job works.’

  ‘I know.’ But, if I’m honest, I’m only now beginning to realise just how much.

  ‘There’s nothing else on his mind?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Good,’ he says. ‘It must be nerve-wracking for him being back on stage again. I’m probably being over-sensitive.’

  I hadn’t really considered that and I feel bad that Shelby and I haven’t talked much about it. I’m determined that I’ll put aside my desire to hide away on the farm and be by his side.