She was laughing as Jack pulled her up on stage to duet with him, ‘Fairytale of New York’. Harley took a photo of her, surreptitiously, then thought that probably wasn’t what her family wanted to see. Lizzy after two Little Donkeys doing karaoke with a strange man.
He looked over at his own mum. Leanne was looking anxious, checking her phone.
‘I need to get back,’ she whispered. ‘Tony’s wondering where I am. But I don’t want to go.’
‘Then don’t,’ said Harley. He wanted his mum to stay. This felt right. He saw Jack looking at her, sensing her anxiety. And he thought, maybe—
No. That wasn’t going to happen. Leanne was getting her coat on, passing River his, picking up her bag. The party was over.
34
At Pepperpot Cottage, Cynthia had galvanised everyone into action. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if Lizzy came home and saw the house shrouded in gloom, without a single decoration. She owed it to her daughter-in-law to make sure everything was as it should be.
Let’s be honest, she thought, she owed Lizzy the world. Cynthia was appalled she had felt under so much pressure that she had run away. You never knew the strain people were under, and sometimes it was the sunniest of natures that were hiding the darkest troubles. Whiners and moaners seemed to manage, as if their pessimistic coping mechanism made life bearable.
She gathered them all in the kitchen and gave them a list each of things to do. She sent Hattie into Astley for flowers, got Luke to jet-wash the courtyard and string the outside lights up and got Simon to clean out the fireplace in the living room while she set to restoring order in the kitchen. She turned the radio up for forced jollity and by mid-afternoon everyone had a sense of achievement.
‘I think,’ she told them, ‘we should do the tree.’
They stared at it, not sure. It was, after all, the root of their problems; a six foot reminder of what they had done wrong. But it didn’t feel right, not to decorate it. And if Lizzy did come back, it would be lovely if it was there in all its glory, lights blazing, to welcome her home.
By four, the tree looked more perfect than it had ever done. Hattie had used the ribbon Lizzy had bought to string everything up, and it looked like their tree, but better: all the familiar decorations but with beautiful orange velvet bows, the ends trailing amongst the foliage. Cynthia had strung up all the Christmas cards with the rest of the ribbon and put them round the room.
Afterwards, in the kitchen, Cynthia stood wondering how and if she should cook them all lunch the next day. She felt momentarily daunted. It was so long since she had done it she wasn’t sure how she was going to manage. She barely cooked at all these days. But it must be like riding a bike, doing Christmas lunch. And anyway, the hard bit had been done: the shopping. It was all there, in the larder and the freezer and the fridge. And there was Delia to help.
If nothing else it would help to pass the time. Potatoes to peel and vegetables to prepare. Otherwise they would just be sitting around, staring into space.
Her phone rang. She looked at it. Amanda.
What did she want?
She wanted something. She never phoned otherwise. Surely she was swooping down the slopes in Val-d’Isère? What was so important now? She ignored it.
Amanda called again. She ignored it again.
By the third call, Cynthia decided the only way to get rid of her was by answering.
‘Amanda!’ Her voice had a sing-song ring to it.
‘Oh, Cynthia, thank goodness.’
There was a drama. She could hear it in her voice.
‘I’ve done my bloody knee in. I’m on crutches. I’m getting the next flight home. I’ve left the kids here, but there’s no point in hanging about in the chalet while everyone’s out on the slopes. I’m at the airport now.’
‘Oh dear. Well, that’s skiing for you. It’s always a risk.’
‘Can you send your driver man to come and get me? And can you come over and give me a hand? I can’t do a thing. I can hardly even get to the loo on my own.’
Cynthia smothered a smile. She wasn’t being cruel. She could tell by Amanda’s voice that she was more furious at her week’s skiing being cut short than in any particular discomfort.
‘Oh, I’m very sorry. I can’t help,’ she said, her voice sugary. ‘I’m at Pepperpot. Getting everything ready for Christmas.’
She wasn’t going to tell her about Lizzy’s disappearance.
‘I’m sure Lizzy would understand.’ Amanda’s voice was tight with impatience.
‘No,’ said Cynthia. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else. I’ll try and pop over next week and bring you a casserole.’
There was a shocked silence.
‘Well, thank you very much,’ snapped Amanda. ‘So good to know that you’re there in a crisis.’
She rang off. Cynthia put her hand over her mouth and started to laugh, peals of it ricocheting around the kitchen, and she stopped short, realising it was a sound she hadn’t heard very often recently, then started again.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Simon came into the kitchen.
‘Nothing,’ said Cynthia. ‘Just something silly on the radio.’
The house phone on the wall rang. Simon stared at it for a moment, then rushed to it. It might be news of Lizzy.
‘Hello?’ He listened for a moment, then his lips tightened before he answered. ‘Amanda? Just fuck off, will you? I’m not your bloody chauffeur. Sort yourself out. Get a taxi like anyone else.’
And he hung up.
Cynthia looked at him. ‘Good for you, darling. Does she really expect you to drop everything?’
‘Of course she does. You know she does. And I’ve had enough.’
Then he looked at his mum and gave a little grin. It was the first time he had stood up to his ex-wife. It felt fantastic.
If only Lizzy was here. She’d be proud of him. It darkened his mood again. He looked at the clock. Quarter to six.
‘Do you think it’s time for a drink?’ he asked.
‘Not for me.’ Cynthia said. ‘I’ve decided. I’m going on the wagon for a while.
‘Oh!’ Simon was surprised. ‘Look, what you did was awful but you don’t have to punish yourself. Maybe just cut down a bit.’
‘No. I’ve thought about it. Drinking doesn’t make me happy. If anything, it makes things worse.’
Simon felt rather relieved. He had suspected his mother was drinking too much, but had felt awkward about confronting her. And anyway, you couldn’t tell people to stop drinking, or even to cut down. They had to do it for themselves.
‘Well, that’s very brave, Mum. And if you’re not, I won’t.’
‘No, no – you go ahead. I’ve got to get used to other people drinking round me. Otherwise it’s not really giving up, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’ Simon hesitated nevertheless.
Cynthia went over to the wine rack and pulled out a bottle of Shiraz.
‘Come on. It’s Christmas.’
‘But it’s not, is it?’ he said sadly. ‘Christmas isn’t Christmas without Lizzy.’
35
That evening, Jack brought his chowder round to Harley and Lizzy with pride.
‘I’ve made enough for an army,’ he said.
The four of them sat round the table, scoffing it out of chunky blue bowls: thick, creamy and unctuous, it tasted of the sea, the fronds of dill giving it an aniseed edge.
‘I helped make it,’ Nat told Harley and Lizzy proudly, dunking his bread in. Jack had let him drop the prawns and scallops in, one by one.
‘Well, it’s delicious,’ Lizzy told him. ‘What a brilliant cook you are.’
The hut felt cosy, but there was a slight air of melancholy underlying everyone’s thoughts that evening, each of them very aware of the people who should be
there but weren’t. Outside, the wind whipped up and threw itself against the glass. No one was quite sure what to do.
‘I think,’ said Jack, ‘I’m going to crash. I expect Nat will be up early.’
‘Father Christmas is coming,’ said Nat, matter-of-factly.
‘He certainly is,’ said Lizzy, hugging the little boy to her, relishing the warmth of his body, the smell of his apple-scented hair. ‘We’ll see you for lunch tomorrow?’
The four of them had decided to pool their resources and share what they had.
‘Definitely. If it’s not raining, I’ll fire up the barbecue,’ said Jack.
When Nat and Jack had gone, Harley was hovering, restless, unable to settle. Lizzy wasn’t sure what he wanted or needed, but he seemed a bit twitchy. He kept checking his phone. It reminded her of the twins, and she felt a sudden pang.
Perhaps she should send them a message to say she was all right. She was regretting not bringing her phone, because she had no idea what anyone’s number was. She could borrow Harley’s and call the house phone but she wasn’t sure how she would react if one of the kids answered. She’d cry. She knew she would. She could feel it now, her throat tightening at the thought. Maybe she’d ask Harley to track Hattie or Luke down on Facebook and tell them she was all right.
She looked at the clock. If she was at home, they’d have just got back from the crib service in Astley. They went every Christmas Eve. The house would smell of mulled wine and sausage rolls and there would be the usual cluster of people dropping in for a drink on their way home afterwards – Pepperpot Cottage was only two hundred yards from the church, so it had become a bit of a custom. Would they have all gone anyway, she wondered.
No, she thought. They would be relieved not to go. She always had to nag them to get ready. They were usually late and would have to cram into seats at the back of the church. No way would they get there without her chivvying them. Hattie would probably go to Kiki’s – crib services were so not cool – and Luke would be at Hal’s, and Simon always moaned about going because he didn’t see the point when they weren’t religious. But then he always ended up enjoying himself and playing host afterwards. She tried to picture what was happening; if they’d all managed without her.
Of course they had. They were probably loving not having to get up or wash up.
She could feel it closing in – that sense of panic and despair that had become so familiar of late. She took another sip of wine and breathed it away, telling herself to relax. She was supposed to be enjoying this taste of freedom. Feeling overwhelmed was quite normal if you’d had a big change.
What she really needed to do was get her head around what she wanted from the future. Work out who she was and where she fitted in. She hadn’t had time to think about any of that since she’d arrived. But she was beginning to think perhaps she didn’t want to go back to work for someone else and be at their beck and call. Maybe she could set up on her own? There wasn’t a lot she didn’t know about organising weddings and parties. She had lots of contacts. She could be her own boss. She could work from home or maybe even find an office in Astley. It was a great location; there would be lots of potential clients.
And, she remembered, she had her redundancy money. She’d been thinking about a new car, but that was a waste. She could use it to set herself up. She imagined a lovely office in a converted attic room, perhaps a feature in the local paper that would bring in business.
She heaved a sigh. If it was that easy, everyone would be doing it.
Harley walked over to her.
‘Hey,’ he said, crouching down by her chair. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m just … missing my squad, as Hattie would say.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘I’m wondering if maybe they weren’t as bad as I thought.’
‘I bet they’re missing you,’ he said. ‘I would be.’
‘Oh,’ she said, touched. ‘That’s sweet. But they’re probably not. They’re probably just doing their own thing, thinking I’ll come back when I’ve got over myself.’
Harley frowned. ‘I think they’re probably quite worried. Don’t you think you should call them?’
‘No. Because I don’t really know what to say. I should just go home.’ She held up her glass and calculated how much she’d drunk. Probably the best part of half a bottle. It made her think of Cynthia, and she felt a fleeting irritation. ‘I can’t drive back now, though. I’ve drunk far too much. I’ll go tomorrow.
Harley’s face fell.
‘But what about lunch? With Jack and Nat?’ He didn’t want lunch with them on his own. He wanted Lizzy there. It was selfish, maybe. But it was Lizzy holding them all together. She obviously had no idea how much she affected people. How much they depended on her.
Lizzy smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll stay for lunch. I won’t just abandon you.’
Harley put a hand on her arm.. ‘I just want to say what you’ve done for me … for us … I can’t ever thank you enough.’
She laughed and shrugged.
‘What have I done? It’s Caroline you’ve got to thank.’
‘You’ve given me courage. Courage to stand up for myself and do what’s right. And look out for my mum.’ Harley didn’t want to bring the mood down by thinking about Tony. He stood up. ‘Will you be ok if I go for a walk? I need some fresh air or I’m going to fall asleep in here.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Lizzy watched him head to the door, thinking how proud Leanne must be of her son, and hoping they would be able to get their life back on track. It must be hard for Leanne, having divided loyalties, though surely your kids came first?
She felt a pang of conscience. She was a right one to talk. Was she putting her kids first, buggering off like she had? No. She’d been completely selfish.
Harley ran down the steps of the hut and onto the sand. The wind had died down now, blown itself out, and he could hear the sea murmuring a gentle lullaby. He picked up his phone, scrolled until he found the post, hesitated for a moment, then dialled the number.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that Hattie?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hi. My name’s Harley. I saw your Facebook post? I wasn’t sure whether to call. I know where your mum is.’
There was a gasp. ‘Really?’ Then a note of wariness. ‘Where?’
‘She’s down in Everdene. At her friend’s beach hut? Caroline?’
‘Caroline? The beach hut …?’ It was as if a realisation was dawning. ‘In Everdene? Oh my God, she used to love it there. She’s told me so many stories.’
‘It’s an amazing place.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘She’s fine. Absolutely fine.’
‘Is she OK, though? Really? What has she said to you?’
‘She’s cool. She’s been looking after us.’
‘Us? Who’s us?’ Hattie sounded suspicious.
‘Me and my mum and my brother. And the guy from the hut next door … It’s a long story.’
‘Did she say what was the matter? We’ve been tearing our hair out wondering. She’s not ill? Or in some kind of trouble?’ Hattie’s words rattled out like gunfire.
Harley considered his reply carefully. ‘I think … to be honest … she’s just … tired?’
‘Of us?’
‘Of life. Everything. Everything and nothing. I think it all closed in on her.’ He paused, wanting to be tactful yet firm. ‘I think you guys not turning up to decorate the tree was a big one.’
‘Oh, poor Mum …’ Hattie’s voice sounded full of unshed tears. ‘We all feel terrible. We’re just a bunch of selfish pigs.’
Harley laughed, despite himself. ‘Well, maybe.’
‘Is she still there?’
‘Yeah, yeah – I just walked up the beach to get a better signal.’
‘Sure. You’ve got my number.’
‘Harley. It’s Harley, right?’
‘Yeah.’ He liked the way she said his name.
‘Harley … Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means.’ She took in a breath. ‘This is the best Christmas present ever. I’ll speak to you later.’
Harley put his phone back in his pocket with a smile. He felt suffused with the glow of doing the right thing. He was pretty sure he had done. Lizzy might be planning to head home tomorrow, but her family needed to know she was ok now. Then they could wake up on Christmas morning knowing she was safe. She might think they didn’t care, but Harley could tell they did. Very much.
Hattie had sounded a little bit like her mum: warm and funny and a bit scatty but nevertheless in control. Uncertain yet definite. People were often a mass of contradictions, he thought. His own mum was. She was tough in so many ways yet made herself vulnerable, especially when it came to men.
Even he was a mass of contradictions, he thought. He might come across as too cool for school – it was a useful defence mechanism – but deep down he just wanted to feel settled. He was anxious about the next stage of life and what was going to happen to him after he finished college this summer. Maybe you always were anxious, if you hadn’t known stability? He should be excited, thinking about art college and where to go and what to discover and new people. But the thought of going away gave him a sharp feeling in the bottom of his stomach. Proper fear.
He thought today was the safest he had felt for a long time. He’d been amongst people he barely knew but they had formed such a strong bond. They all had each other’s backs. It had been so special, and he’d wanted every day to be like that. Gentle and full of laughter and generosity.
It couldn’t last though. He knew that. He knew by phoning Lizzy’s family he had broken the spell, but he’d had to do it. She belonged with them. And Jack and Nat would be going back home at the end of the week. He couldn’t just stay here for ever.
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