Christmas at the Beach Hut

by Veronica Henry

  Next to her, Harley glanced at his phone to see if there was a message from Hattie. Where were they? They should be here by now …

  44

  ‘Oh wow,’ said Hattie as they came down the hill at Everdene.

  The bay was preening itself in front of them, knowing it looked its best in the bright winter light, pale turquoise and shimmering, competing with the baby-blue sky for attention. The sea flaunted its waves while fluffy white clouds buffeted around the sky, like a pair of film stars parading around in ostrich feathers.

  ‘I can see why she’s come here,’ said Hattie. ‘Can we stay for a bit? I want to find rock pools.’

  ‘I want to go surfing,’ said Luke. ‘Those waves are wicked.’

  ‘Yeah, because you’re, like, such a surfer.’

  ‘I could learn!’

  ‘Shhh, guys, come on. Don’t wind each other up. Where’s the car park?’

  ‘Right there,’ Hattie pointed. ‘And there’s Mum’s car, look.’

  They looked at her little Honda, parked in the corner all by itself. The car Lizzy beetled off to work in, took them to school in; zoomed to the supermarket, picked them up after a party, the radio tuned to Radio 2, which they all moaned about. The Wallace and Gromit air freshener. The piles of parking stickers she never cleared out.

  They were all quiet for a moment. The car meant she really was here. Any minute now they were going to see her.

  Hattie texted Harley.

  We’re here. Just coming to the car park.

  He sent one back

  Ok! We’re still having lunch. But there’s loads left.

  Simon parked up next to the Honda and turned off the engine. ‘Right then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and find your mum.’

  His stomach was churning. He was afraid. Afraid that things had gone too far. That she wouldn’t want to come back. That he had lost her, through his lack of care, by not noticing or appreciating either what she had done or what she needed. But then he looked at Hattie and Luke and he thought – no. She would never desert them.

  Would she?

  Lizzy had been careful to only have one glass of champagne with her lunch. Everyone was having seconds, and she longed for them to hurry up so she could bring out the pavlova and the black forest gateau she and Harley had bought. She didn’t want to wish their lunch away, but now she had made up her mind, she was longing for home. And family. Pepperpot and Simon and Hattie and Luke. The things that made her her.

  It had been wonderful though, her time here. And it hadn’t been wasted. She had made a difference, she thought, in a small space of time. And she had made friends she wouldn’t forget. The bond they had forged between them was unbreakable. It was going to be hard to leave them, but they had their lives to get on with.

  And she had to set about rebuilding her own, with the new perspective she had found. She had the germ of an idea in the back of her mind, but she needed to talk it through with someone, and her gut told her that person was Simon. He knew both what she was capable of and what made sound business sense. It was, she knew, time for team-work, time for their marriage to play to its strengths for the foreseeable future, not be a victim of the tiny cracks. Everyone had cracks in their marriage at some point. It was how you chose to deal with them that mattered.

  There was a knock on the door. She saw Leanne freeze in fear, wondering if it was Tony. And she saw Jack put a reassuring hand on her arm, as if to protect her.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Harley, who was nearest the door. He jumped up. Everyone had stopped eating, and an awkward silence fell. Jack put a gentle hand on Leanne’s arm and squeezed it. Then Lizzy noticed that Harley was grinning. Which was odd …

  Harley opened the door. There was a cluster of people outside. Lizzy frowned – the light outside was too bright to see who it was.

  Then they stepped into the room and her mouth fell open.

  Simon. And Hattie and Luke.

  She looked at Harley, who gave a gleeful shrug.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Lizzy,’ he said.

  She pushed back her chair and stood up, her heart thumping. Everyone was looking at her.

  ‘Lizzy.’ Simon walked across to the table in three strides and took her in his arms. As he enveloped her she breathed him in. That familiar scent, of the aftershave she bought him for his birthday, their detergent on his clothes, his shampoo. Him.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘And we’re sorry. We’re so sorry about the tree. About everything.’ He squeezed her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ she laughed. She looked at Harley. ‘Is this why you’ve been skulking about? Like a cat on hot bricks?’

  ‘Busted,’ he said.

  ‘We put a shout-out on Facebook.’ Hattie came forward and Lizzy reached out to her. Luke followed, and she pulled them in, the four of them in a big embrace.

  ‘I saw it,’ said Harley. ‘I thought your family needed you back.’

  Everyone looked at Lizzy. She said nothing for a moment, just looked from Simon to Hattie to Luke then Harley. Then she smiled.

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I need my family back.’

  She turned to the table. ‘Everyone, this is Simon. And Hattie and Luke. This is Jack. And Leanne. And River and Nat …’

  Hattie sidled up to Harley. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I’m guessing you’re Harley.’

  He looked at her for a moment, taking in her blue and white hair and her yellow hooded parka and her combat boots. ‘Yep,’ he said, suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious.

  ‘Dude,’ Luke bounded up and grabbed his hand. ‘You’re the bomb.’

  Hattie grinned and rolled her eyes. ‘Luke’s been watching too many Breaking Bad reruns.’

  ‘There’s masses of food left,’ said Lizzy. ‘Come on. Sit down. We can find some extra chairs.’

  Jack had already vacated his place and went to plate up some more lamb. Leanne fetched glasses. The little hut was fuller than ever, full of chatter and explanation and hubbub.

  Simon was holding Lizzy’s hand and wouldn’t let go.

  ‘Come outside with me,’ he begged. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘What were you thinking?’ Simon was coming down from the relief of seeing Lizzy and was alarmed to feel anger creeping in. ‘We were out of our minds. We had no idea where you were.’

  The two of them marched across the sand towards the sea, arms crossed, both defensive after the initial joy.

  ‘I left a note.’

  ‘Yes, but to just disappear like that. And then we found the prescription.’

  ‘Prescription?’ Lizzy frowned.

  ‘For God’s sake. The anti-depressants? Stuck behind the Indian menu?’

  ‘Oh. Yes. But I wasn’t going to take them. They dish them out for anything these days.’

  ‘Yes, but we didn’t know that. Imagine how we felt. We thought the worst. That you might be suicidal. The thing is, Lizzy, you knew you were all right. But we didn’t. We imagined all sorts.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ They’d reached the edge of the sea. The two of them stood at the water’s edge, side by side, both wrestling with their points of view. ‘But I just couldn’t take it any more. It all closed in on me. Losing my job. The stress of Christmas. Not feeling like me any more. The twins about to go.’

  ‘We could have talked.’

  ‘There were other things. Things I didn’t feel I could talk to you about. Things I didn’t think were fair.’ Lizzy’s voice rose in indignation.

  ‘I know.’ Simon nodded. ‘Amanda. And Mum.’

  ‘Yes.’ Lizzy looked fierce. ‘I’d had enough. Of coming second. All the time. When—’

  She stopped. She still couldn’t betray Cynthia.

  ‘Mum told me,’ said Simon, quietly. ‘Mum told me what happened. And how you’d kept it qu
iet. And … I think you’re amazing. To be so kind and so loyal. When Mum didn’t deserve your loyalty. I want to thank you so much.’

  Lizzy sighed. ‘It was awful, what she did. But she was so ashamed. And she was vulnerable. I knew if you found out, it would break her. That she would feel so much less in your eyes, at a time when she already felt lost.’

  ‘Oh, Lizzy.’

  ‘And then when bloody Amanda changed everything at the last minute, it was the last straw. I felt as if everything revolved around her, and nobody gave a stuff about me.’ She gave a half laugh. ‘Oh dear, that makes me sound selfish and self-centred and a total princess. I know it’s not all about me. But it’s been hard.’

  ‘Lizzy. I know. And it’s all going to change. From now on, you come first.’

  ‘It’s not about coming first,’ protested Lizzy. ‘It’s about coming … somewhere.’

  Simon took both of her hands and looked at her. ‘You come first with all of us. You know that. We were all lost without you. We were nothing. Christmas meant nothing. And here you were, being wonderful Lizzy to a bunch of strangers, making their Christmas special.’ His voice sounded strangled. He was going to cry. ‘We don’t deserve you. We know that. We let you down.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. It was one of those things. And I was being hypersensitive.’ She started to laugh. ‘I got arrested for shoplifting. In Inglewoods’. Can you imagine?’

  ‘They sent you a voucher. To say sorry.’

  ‘They did?’ Lizzy looked surprised. ‘Well, good. I shall spend it on something outrageous in the sales. Leather leggings. I think leather leggings are the way forward.’

  She looked down at her not-very-long-or-slender legs and giggled.

  Simon grabbed her, his wonderful wife, and pulled her to him. ‘Let’s go home,’ he said. ‘Let’s go home right now and have the Christmas we should have had all along. You and me and Hattie and Luke. Mum’s cooking it all for us. And then we can talk. About changes.

  ‘I’ve had loads of time to think since I’ve been down here,’ said Lizzy. ‘About the future.’

  Simon looked worried. What was she going to say?

  ‘It’s OK,’ she laughed. ‘It’s nothing major. I just don’t think I want to work for someone else, that’s all. I want to try something new. My own business.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ said Simon. ‘I’m all for it.’

  ‘I’m not going to be a millionaire overnight,’

  ‘We know that money isn’t everything,’ said Simon. ‘Time is far more important. Time and family and … the little things.’

  ‘And I was wondering,’ she said, sliding her hand into his as they turned and walked back up the beach, ‘about getting a hut down here. They come up for sale sometimes. We could rent it out half the time so it pays for itself. Come down here for long weekends.’

  ‘And Christmas?’ he grinned.

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I loved it, for a change, but Christmas belongs to Pepperpot.’

  Harley and Hattie said goodbye on the veranda while Lizzy gathered up her things inside the hut.

  ‘We always have a party on New Year’s Eve,’ Hattie said in a tumble of words before she could think about what she was doing. ‘Well, not a party. Just a bunch of people come round and we play board games and charades. You could get the train up. We can fetch you from the station. You can stay at ours?’

  She wanted to make it easy for him. She didn’t want him to find an excuse. But she was terrified he would say no. That he didn’t feel the same as she did: as if he had discovered someone new who felt like an old friend. Or perhaps even more than that.

  ‘I’d love that.’ He nodded and smiled, and she thought she had never seen anyone with eyes that kind of green, like the most beautiful glass.

  She knew she had to go. But she reached out her hand, and he reached out his, and they did a kind of awkward funny clasp, squeezing each other’s fingers. It said everything that was needed, about how they felt and what might happen.

  ‘See you next week,’ he said with a nod, then mimed putting a phone to his ear. ‘We’ll speak, yeah?’

  ‘I’ll call you.’ She couldn’t bear to tear her gaze away from his, but she knew that this moment was about her mum and what Lizzy needed, and that their time would come.

  When the Kinghams had gone, the atmosphere in the hut felt a little flat. There was still a fraction of daylight left.

  ‘I’m going to take the little guys for a walk with Clouseau before it gets dark,’ said Jack. Sitting down after a boozy lunch would only make him introspective. ‘Anyone want to come?’

  ‘I’ll come,’ said Leanne. ‘I definitely need some fresh air. Harley?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m going to do the washing-up,’ he said.

  Leanne hugged him. ‘It’s almost like you’re perfect,’ she said.

  ‘Well, who knew?’ said Harley. He felt so happy. This was so different from the Christmas he had feared: one filled with tension and resentment. Washing up was a small price to pay.

  As soon as the door shut on River and Nat and Jack and Leanne, Harley got out his phone and his father’s Christmas card and typed the name of his prison into Google maps. It was just as he thought. Not a million miles from where Lizzy and Hattie lived. Sometimes, things were meant to be.

  The Kinghams drove back in convoy. The twins went with Lizzy, to keep her company, and they played her their favourite new songs on their iPhones and fed her buttermints. They drove into Astley just before seven. The little town was quietly twinkling, its houses filled with people sleepy with food and overindulgence.

  And when Lizzy walked back into Pepperpot Cottage, she felt her heart lift because there, in the living room, was her tree, strung with lights and sparkling in the corner, looking just as she had pictured it when she had bought the ribbon. Like their tree but better, the familiar ornaments dangling amongst the branches and making her heart ache with nostalgia.

  In the kitchen the table was laid with a tartan tablecloth and candles flickering, and the most wonderful smell of roast turkey mingled with a Jo Malone pomegranate noir candle – Cynthia’s present to her that she had decided to unwrap and light because it smelled of Christmas. There was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne ready to open, a board groaning with cheese and fruit, the pudding on a glass cake stand bedecked with a sprig of holly.

  Everything was perfect and just as it should be.

  Cynthia was standing in the kitchen in Lizzy’s apron, a little hesitant and unsure, conscious that she was one of the reasons Lizzy had run off.

  ‘Have you done all this?’ asked Lizzy. She must have done, because turkey didn’t cook itself and tables didn’t lay themselves and candles didn’t light themselves.

  Cynthia nodded.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind.’ She was in Lizzy’s space, after all, and she might not like it.

  ‘Mind?’ said Lizzy. ‘It looks wonderful. And smells wonderful.’

  ‘It should be ready in about half an hour,’ said Cynthia. ‘I had the twins text me when you were an hour away. So I could put the potatoes in.’

  Her voice was shaky with nerves. Lizzy felt a flood of fondness for her. Simon had told her about Cynthia’s pledge to stop drinking. What Cynthia had done was wrong, but her crime had grown into something that had got in the way of everyone’s life. It had become bigger than the sum of its parts. They both needed to draw a line under it. Forgive. Perhaps not forget, but pull together, talk about things, find ways to help each other live the best life they could.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Lizzy quietly. ‘I really appreciate it. And I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘Really?’ said Cynthia. She felt so unsure. Her confidence had taken a battering over the last few years.

  ‘Of course,’ said Lizzy, reaching out to her mother-in-law. ‘You belong here. Wi
th all of us.’

  And as Lizzy hugged her, Cynthia realised that all she had ever wanted was to belong, here in this house, and to be in the heart of the family. Maybe that was possible now, with her secret out in the open and her determination to change.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ said Cynthia. ‘They were falling apart without you.’

  Lizzy looked around the kitchen and felt grateful that the isolation she had felt only a few days’ before had vanished; that her sense of being let down and her anger and bewilderment had been replaced by gratitude for her family, and a new set of friends and most importantly a sense of peace.

  Suddenly she felt as if she knew who she was again. Not the old Lizzy but a new Lizzy, with a fresh set of challenges and a new beginning, ready to take everyone else with her. For the twins would be facing changes soon too, and they would need her, not by their sides any more, but in the background.

  And then she heard the soundtrack from The Snowman flooding through the speakers in the room next door, and she laughed and cried at the same time, because the others always teased her for wanting it on and this was their way of saying that Christmas belonged to her.

  NEW YEAR’S EVE

  45

  ‘It happens every year,’ said the woman in a brisk Princess-Anne tone. ‘People buy them as Christmas presents and then panic. I always get one sent back, no matter how strictly I vet the purchasers.’

  She handed Simon a small ball of pale pinky-gold fur. He took it carefully.

  ‘I’ll have to come and inspect your house. Make sure the garden is dog-proof and so on.’ She looked at him sternly. She had short blonde hair, blue eyeliner and frosted pink lipstick. She was not to be messed with.