When I get back to the caravan, Phantom is sitting at the bottom of the steps, staring at me. Our feral cat has never come anywhere near the van before and, as you know, is rarely even seen in the yard, preferring to be out in the fields or in the barn.
‘Hello, boy.’ I bend down towards him and he leans away from me, but holds his ground, regarding me with his one good eye. So I sit on the step next to him. ‘This is a nice surprise that you’ve come to say hello to me.’
He meows and rubs against my leg, which is definitely a Christmas miracle.
‘Would you like something to eat? I can probably rustle up some cheese as long as you don’t tell Lucas.’ I think there’s some in the back of the fridge for my non-vegan emergencies. I’m frightened if I move, he’ll bolt, but I want to give him a treat if I can. Moving slowly, I risk going to the fridge and do, indeed, find a morsel of cheese for him. Thankfully, he’s still waiting when I go back outside.
I hold out my hand and Phantom takes the cheese, scoffing it down greedily. Perhaps it’s a real luxury for a cat who’s used to foraging for himself.
‘Do you think you might like to live nearer to us, eventually?’ I ask him. ‘I’d love to look after you properly. I could put a bed under the van for you as a start?’
But he’s too busy licking his whiskers to reply. Then he turns and walks off across the yard, flicking his paw in his strange goosestep as he goes. I hope he’ll come back soon. Perhaps now he’s made the first approach, we might have just turned a corner with him. It was a lovely Christmas present, nevertheless.
With a smile on my face, I go back indoors to find that Lucas is just emerging from his room in his T-shirt and torn joggers. He yawns and scratches his head.
‘Merry Christmas,’ I say.
‘Oh yeah. Merry Christmas.’
Still in tactile mood, he hugs me. Then he looks out of the window. ‘Christ, look at the snow.’
‘It’s lovely out there,’ I tell him. ‘The sun’s out, the sky’s blue. It’s a gorgeous day.’
‘A white Christmas. Who’d have thought?’
‘I’ve got some vegan bacon. We can have sarnies for breakfast.’
‘Top job,’ Lucas says and curls himself into the sofa where Little Dog takes up residence on his lap.
So I fry the bacon and we eat our breakfast together while listening to Christmas songs on the radio.
‘Your dad phoned early this morning.’
Lucas raises one eyebrow.
‘He was at the airport and was thinking about not going to LA.’
‘But he still did,’ Lucas says.
‘I told him he should.’
‘Good call. We’re better off without him.’
Only time will tell, I guess.
‘It’s OK to miss him,’ I point out.
‘For you,’ he replies, crisply. ‘I got over my dad years ago.’ I don’t think that’s entirely true. I’m sure this is tough for Lucas and he’s putting on a brave face, but I let it go. It’s Christmas Day and I want us to have a lovely time together.
‘I don’t suppose Superstar Daddy remembered to buy us any Christmas presents?’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘But he has been very busy.’
Lucas tuts. ‘Tell me something I don’t know. He could have got a minion to do it, as he usually does. He’ll put some money in my account when he remembers. Throw some cash at it. That always eases his conscience.’
I don’t want to argue with Lucas and, in fairness, he’s probably right. ‘Well, I got you a present.’
In the cupboard, I find what I’ve wrapped for Lucas. There’s a book of poems, The Sunshine Kid, by one of his favourite poets, Harry Baker, and a T-shirt that says POET – BUT ONLY BECAUSE SUPERHERO IS NOT A JOB TITLE. I think he’ll like them.
He unwraps them enthusiastically. ‘These are totally awesome. I’ve wanted this book for ages.’ He holds the T-shirt against his skinny chest. ‘I’ll put this on tomorrow when we’ve got visitors. Thanks, Molly.’
‘My pleasure. We’ve got gifts from Bev and Alan too.’ I find those tucked in a box under the sofa.
There’s a bottle of Aldi rum for me and a hand-knitted Doctor Who-style scarf for Lucas.
‘Cool,’ he says. ‘Top presents.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of them.’
‘I can wear the scarf on our obligatory walk.’ He stands up and winds it round his neck. ‘I’ve got a present for you, too. I didn’t buy it, but I hope you like it.’
Lucas stands up and takes up position in the middle of the kitchen floor and says, ‘Are you sitting comfortably?’
I turn to face him. ‘I am.’
‘This is for you. It’s called “Without You Too”.’
He lets out a wavering breath and, from memory, starts to recite.
To have lived my life without you
would’ve been to have lost all hope,
of ever standing on my own;
of learning how to cope,
with the pains I faced so early:
the loss you helped me through;
the second chance you offered me,
and from which our friendship grew.
I could have lived my life without you,
but how cold would I have felt,
without the warmth you gave so freely,
that caused this heart of ice to melt?
There’d been a fork in the road ahead;
a darker path that beckoned me,
but you were there:
your light
to guide my way;
encourage:
set me free.
And now I wouldn’t be without you;
you mean that much to me,
you’ve been a friend;
a coach;
a mother;
made me the best that I could be.
And so from me to you this Christmas;
offered unreservedly:
my thanks;
my humble gratitude
for a life without you in it . . .
Is one I wouldn’t want to see.
He stops and looks up at me, as if uncertain of my reaction.
‘Oh, Lucas.’ I don’t even bother to hide the fact that I’m crying. ‘That is the nicest present I’ve ever had.’
‘Then you must have had some really shit presents in the past,’ he says, but I can tell that he’s secretly pleased that I like it. No, I don’t just like it. I love it. I adore it.
I remember so well the moving poem that he wrote for his mother to express how he felt without her and this, I feel, is Lucas coming full circle. It’s a statement of where he is now and I couldn’t be more proud. I’m proud of myself too for being part of his life.
‘Should have put on my poet T-shirt before I did that,’ he says, shyly.
‘You should because you are an amazing poet.’
‘Heartbreak and misery, it turns out, are very good for creativity. Perhaps I wouldn’t be a poet if I was deliriously happy.’
‘Are you not happy?’
He thinks for a moment and then gives a rare smile. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I think I might be.’
‘Hug?’
With only a moment’s hesitation, he steps into my arms and I give him a good squeeze while I have the chance. I have so much hope for Lucas’s future. He’s made mistakes, had setbacks, experienced love and loss, endured moments of darkness and doubt, but he’s turning into a fine young man and I can’t wait to see what’s to come.
‘You can stop crying now,’ Lucas says.
‘Can you read it again?’
He sighs. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes. It’s Christmas. Indulge me.’
So he recites it again and makes me cry a bit more.
Chapter Eighty-Four
Lucas and I have a lovely, chilled day together. I cook a traditional Christmas lunch for us except with vegan onion tarts instead of turkey. Holly and Ivy will be happy about that. We pull crackers that the students ha
ve made and wear our completely naff paper hats.
‘I feel like a right wanker,’ Lucas says as he checks out his reflection in the window. But he keeps it on, nevertheless.
In the afternoon, I potter about while Lucas, amidst a pile of cushions and dogs, reads his new poetry book. I cajole him into a game of cards, which he quite enjoys as he pays little attention and yet he still wins. The dogs flop about on the floor beneath us, untroubled even though they’ve been cooped up for hours.
The snow continues to fall throughout the day and, as they say, it’s deep and crisp and even.
As it darkens into evening, I look out of the window. ‘I should go and feed everyone. Want to come?’
‘Yeah,’ Lucas says, pushing himself out of the cosy nook he’s created in the sofa. ‘I’ll get my coat.’
I look at him tenderly. ‘It’s been a nice day. I’ve enjoyed spending time together.’
‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘And I whooped your arse at cards.’
I laugh. ‘You did.’
‘Return match tomorrow?’
‘Don’t forget we have a houseful – or caravanful.’
‘Ah. I might challenge Penny to a game or two. See what she’s made of.’
That makes me smile. ‘I see.’
‘You don’t,’ he says. ‘We’re friends. Don’t start phoning the vicar.’
‘I won’t. I just want you to find a special friend.’
‘A special friend?’ He wrinkles his nose at me. ‘Give me a break. You forget, I’m sworn off lurrrrve for the foreseeable future. Little Dog is the only companion I need.’ He ruffles the dog’s ears which sends him into a frenzy of delight.
Maybe. If not Penny, then I hope someone comes along for Lucas to care for, someone of his own age to share his life, his hopes and dreams.
We wrap up, pull on our boots and venture out into the snow. The fresh fall has obliterated our previous footsteps, so the yard is pristine until we crunch across it to reach the barn.
The animals are quite excited to have some human company and even more excited that dinner is on its way. Lucas and I set about feeding them all. When we get to the sheep, Fluffy has separated herself from everyone else and is pawing at the ground. Her belly looks lower than it was and she’s stretching her back.
‘I think that Fluffy’s time is near,’ I note.
Lucas looks anxious. ‘Shall we phone the vet?’
‘If it’s a straightforward birth, she’ll be able to manage,’ I assure him. ‘I don’t want to drag out anyone on Christmas night unnecessarily. We’ll keep a close eye on her.’
Then there’s the sound of a car trundling its way up the lane and for one stupid moment I wonder whether it’s Shelby. Maybe he didn’t get on the plane after all and has come back to us for Christmas.
Leaving Lucas on sheep duty, I hurry out of the barn and to the gate. It’s Matt’s car that’s waiting there and he’s the last person I expected to see. I let him into the yard and when he gets out of the car, he says, ‘I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. This isn’t a bad time?’
‘It’s the perfect time,’ I tell him. ‘But I thought you were on your way to stay with your family.’
‘Couldn’t get up there. The snow is much worse in the north. I decided not to risk it.’
‘They must be disappointed.’
‘Yes. I am too, but I’ll see them as soon as I can. I didn’t want to get stuck halfway up the M6.’
‘Very wise.’
‘You’re sure I won’t be in the way?’
‘Not at all. It’s just me and Lucas today.’
He looks puzzled. ‘No Shelby?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ I tell him. ‘He’s gone to LA. He flew out this morning. He’s taken a contract to be a baddie in a big drama out there.’
‘How long for?’
‘That’s a moot point.’ I might as well tell Matt what the situation is. ‘If I’m honest with you, I don’t think that he’ll come back at all.’
He frowns at me. ‘So where does that leave you?’
‘Here. With Lucas. Just the two of us. I couldn’t be happier.’ I smile at him to show that I genuinely am OK. ‘Shelby and I will always be friends, I hope. I love his son as my own and will be looking after Lucas here for as long as he needs me. Shelby is my landlord here too, so I have to keep on the right side of him.’
‘He’s a fool to go off chasing stardom when he has so much here.’ Matt looks round at the yard, the farm. From what I’ve already seen, I know that he’s very comfortable in this setting.
‘I’m not sure that he sees it in quite the same way. This isn’t the life that Shelby wants.’ Even though, sometimes, he thinks it is. ‘Sheep poo and bitey alpacas are not really his scene. We all have to follow our dreams. It’s just a shame that our dreams didn’t coincide.’
He looks as if he wants to say something else, but changes his mind.
‘I’m very pleased to see you, and Lucas will be delighted,’ I say instead.
‘I brought you both presents, if that’s all right.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’
‘Just small gifts,’ he says. ‘Don’t get too excited.’ He delves into the back of the car and produces a beautiful red poinsettia, all wrapped in cellophane with a big bow. He offers it to me. ‘My sister said this was a good present.’
‘She’s right.’ I take it from him, gratefully. ‘It’s lovely. Thank you. It will certainly help to brighten our little caravan.’
‘I’ve got something for Lucas, too.’
‘He’s in the barn. Our pregnant sheep has picked this moment to go into labour. Lucas is watching over her. Shall we take a look at how she’s getting on?’
We head back to the barn and as we cross the yard, we walk beneath the mistletoe that we hung there together. Suddenly, mid-stride, Matt pauses and says ‘Molly.’
I turn towards him, expectant.
‘We missed out before,’ he says and glances at the mistletoe.
‘We did.’
Despite my arms being full of poinsettia, he moves towards me. His lips find mine and he tastes of Christmas spices, cinnamon and nutmeg. His kiss is warm, tender and makes my head spin and my knees weak.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. It was worth waiting for,’ he says. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘No.’ I smile shyly at him. ‘I rather enjoyed it.’
We both laugh and he says softly, ‘Merry Christmas, Molly.’
‘Merry Christmas.’
But, such is my life, our romantic interlude doesn’t last for long. I look anxiously at where I’ve left Lucas. ‘I don’t want to break the moment, but I should check that Fluffy’s OK. It’s her first lamb.’
‘Come on, then,’ Matt says and we head over to the barn where Lucas is standing on the gate, attentively watching over our mum-to-be.
‘Look who’s come calling,’ I say, as I put down my poinsettia.
‘Hey, Matt.’ Lucas jumps down and Matt grabs him into a bear hug and slaps his back.
‘Merry Christmas, mate,’ Matt says. ‘Having a good one?’
‘Yeah. Watching a sheep in labour. What could be better?’
Matt laughs. ‘Hope this will cheer you up.’ He hands over an envelope and looks at me as he says, ‘I thought we could all go.’
Lucas rips it open and looks at Matt, astonished. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Tickets for the Harry Baker tour in the spring.’ Matt looks pleased with his choice of present. ‘You said you wanted to go, so I got three of them.’
‘That’s fantastic.’ Lucas is obviously thrilled and I love how Matt has remembered their conversation about the poet and has done something so kind.
‘Cheers, Matt. That’ll be great.’ Lucas’s face is shining and it makes me think how easy it is to please him. It also makes me sad how little effort Shelby goes to when it comes to understanding his son.
‘How’s Fluffy doing?’
‘I don�
�t know,’ Lucas admits. ‘It’s all new to me.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘There’s some kind of goo coming out of her bum. Is that right?’
I look over the gate and am quite worried by what I see.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Climbing into the pen, I examine Fluffy. Lucas’s ‘goo’ is, in fact, the amniotic sac. Looks like Fluffy’s ready to give birth to her first baby. However, she’s straining to deliver the lamb and I think she’s going to need some assistance. ‘It looks like the legs are tucked up and trapped under the lamb. They need to be facing the other way for a smooth delivery. She’ll never get this little one out by herself.’
I turn to look at Lucas, who has gone a pale shade of green. ‘Don’t look at me.’ He holds up a hand. ‘I draw the line at getting acquainted with a sheep’s noo-noo.’
I’ve done this before in the past, with supervision, and it’s a lot harder than it looks. However, it’s a long time since I’ve had any practice in sheep midwifery and I feel nervous as I don’t want to hurt Fluffy.
‘I can do it,’ Matt says.
Lucas and I both look at him with surprise. ‘You can?’
‘Sure. I’ve helped enough cows to calve in the past. It’s got to be easier with a sheep. I can scrub up, if you’ve got some disinfectant.’
He certainly sounds confident and I could definitely do with some help. ‘You’re sure?’
Yet Matt is already taking off his jacket.
‘There’s disinfectant in the shed. Lucas, can you run and get it?’
He shoots off without being asked twice.
Our mayor rolls up his sleeves before climbing into the pen alongside me.
‘You’re all right, girl,’ he coos to Fluffy. ‘The cavalry’s here.’ Expertly, Matt turns the sheep onto her side. ‘You have a little lie down while we sort you out.’
Lucas comes back with a bucket of water, soap, a clean towel and some disinfectant. Matt scrubs his hands and arms.
Then he tends to the sheep, taking a deep breath before he murmurs. ‘Nothing to it.’ He reaches into Fluffy as gently as he can and she bleats with the indignity of it all. ‘I just need to hook the legs forward. Keep still for a second, Mum. Ah, here’s one.’
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