‘Why not bring out the oat and raisin bars I made for tomorrow instead?’ asked Audrey quickly. She turned to me and lowered her voice. ‘Cara and I had quite a baking session today. She’s really inspired me to do more home cooking. It’s just as well, poor dear.’
‘Ooh, yes please. They are yummy. Really chewy,’ said Lex.
‘How do you know?’ asked Audrey.
Lex stared at the floor. Audrey chuckled and bent down to give her a hug.
‘Good idea,’ said Cara and followed John inside.
‘I hope Mummy is okay,’ said Lex. ‘She was really looking forward to everyone eating those cinnamon flapjacks and they looked so pretty with the white chocolate.’
‘Don’t you worry. She always bounces back.’ Audrey looked at me and shook her head. ‘It’s most odd. Cara is so organised when baking. She puts all of the ingredients out on saucers before starting, like chefs on the telly. You’d think she’d have noticed the smell.’
‘She has had a cold.’
‘True. You should have seen her, washing her hands every five minutes, to make sure all possible germs were killed.’
John brought the bars outside. They soon disappeared. Everyone complimented Audrey.
Davina and Mia stood chatting together about a sale going on in their joint favourite fashion store. I talked to neighbours I’d never known before. Over the last week, the adults as well as the children had been making new friends. Lily spoke to pupils from different years. I chatted to people from the other side of the estate and a shift worker from two doors down I’d only seen once. And stories related to the food bank came out.
‘The wife and I had to use it last year, when I lost my job,’ said one man. ‘That contributed towards us being able to keep our house.’
‘My cousin’s son is homeless, up north,’ said a woman. ‘He suffers with his mental health and ran away; said he preferred sleeping on the streets. It’s such a worry to the whole family and I like to think there’s somewhere he can go to pick up free toiletries and food.’
‘My boss’s neighbour ended up on streets,’ said another. ‘He lost his wife, got depressed, lost his house. It’s terrible. People like Ron and his team do a marvellous job.’
With fondness I watched tonight’s generous spectators eventually make their way home.
I just hoped their generosity would be enough.
‘It’s going to look awesome when all the windows are lit up,’ said Arlo, sitting on the lounge floor with his back to the radiator. Davina and I had gone into Cara’s to make sure she was okay. Hannah, Lex and Lily decided to join him, jostling for space. Jasper was in the toilet having insisted he liked the curry powder flapjacks.
‘Anyone for one last oat and raisin bar?’ asked Audrey, sitting on the sofa with a plate in her hands.
‘Me!’ chorused the kids.
‘You okay?’ I asked Cara in the kitchen. Davina had her arm around her. We’d just finished washing up.
She dabbed her eyes. ‘Yes – apart from this bloomin’ cold hanging around. I don’t feel up to much so John is going to get an Indian takeaway.’
The kitchen smelt as if they’d already eaten one.
‘I fed the girls earlier.’ She blew her nose.
‘Lily and I will just have to grab soup when we get back. See, even when you are feeling under the weather you are a super-efficient mum,’ I said.
Her voice trembled. ‘It hasn’t felt like it. Not since the end of the summer. In fact… would either of you fancy meeting for a coffee tomorrow?’
Davina squeezed her. ‘Of course. I’m out for lunch but why don’t we go straight to Love in a Mug, after dropping the children off, like last time?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ I said. ‘I’m interviewing a local charity for the elderly but that’s not until one.’
Cara wiped her nose. ‘Thanks guys. There’s something important I need to talk through.’
27
‘Mum! Wake up!’ Lily bounced on my bed.
I opened my eyes. Focused. Sat up. ‘What’s wrong? Are you okay?’
‘Look outside!’ She slid off the bed and yanked open the apricot curtains. Shivering, I got out of bed and padded over to the window. There was already a thin layer of white dusting the ground as if the tiny flakes of snow were sieved icing sugar. Its magic lifted my spirits. It hid all the grime, like a fresh start moving on from events best forgotten. I prepared two bowls of porridge and Lily and I squirted on our favourite maple syrup. She insisted on leaving the house early, despite my warning that snowballing would leave her gloves soaking for lunch time.
The playground was practically empty at the time we arrived – apart from Kit. He was finishing scattering fresh grit onto the pavement outside. He carried the bucket into the playground and in her wellies, Lily followed. She stopped and managed to find enough snow to make a ball before lobbing it straight at his head.
It hit the side of his fur trapper hat. She stood laughing.
He grinned. ‘Good shot.’
‘Lily! I said, catching up. ‘Be careful not to throw snow too near people’s faces. Otherwise Father Christmas may not bring you any presents.’
She caught my jokey tone and stuck out her tongue. ‘You said that last year, Mum. I reckon I’d have to do something really bad not to get anything. I think that’s what my dad believed.’
‘What makes you say that?’ I asked.
Lily noticed Ruby who’d just walked into the playground and put together another small snowball before standing back up.
‘I lied to him once. It’s a blurry memory. I’d started getting books to bring home from nursery. I was four. I swore I hadn’t been up late secretly looking at the pictures under the covers. But Daddy knew I had because the new battery in my Peppa Pig torch had run out. I cried when he realised I’d not told the truth, especially as that’s when he was really poorly with thin legs and no hair.’ She looked sad for a moment. ‘I remember saying he couldn’t love me because I wasn’t a good girl.’
‘And what did he say?’ asked Kit. He’d put down the bucket as the snow started to fall heavier now.
She looked at him. ‘When Dad died he left me a little notebook. He’s written lots of advice inside. Like be kind to others but be kind to yourself as well. And don’t drink coke too late in the day or you’ll end up peeing all night.’
Kit smiled.
‘One of them was to remember that doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person – it just means you are human. We all make the wrong choices sometimes. I think that’s what he said that day.’ She shrugged and, snowball behind her back, hurried off to play with Ruby.
I glanced at Kit.
He caught my gaze.
I didn’t know where our friendship was going. It didn’t matter. I was just glad I’d got it back.
‘Adam sounds like he was a great dad,’ he said eventually and picked up the bucket.
Davina came into the playground, chatting with Mia. She called over and I headed her way.
‘It’s funny the things Lily recalls,’ I said to her and Cara as we sat in Love in a Mug, twenty minutes later. We’d stamped our feet outside to shed the snow before coming in. ‘How Adam smelt of lemons – he only ever bought citrus aftershave. And if we have fried eggs she always mentions how her daddy would leave the white. I wish she could remember more.’
Silence fell as our cold fingers gratefully nursed milky festive coffees infused with cinnamon syrup with mini gingerbread men on the side. Even calorie-conscious Davina had one. I stared outside as bigger snowflakes now spiralled. There was a map of the living calendar in the window.
‘How are you feeling today, Cara?’ asked Davina. Davina had told me privately that Jasper had been up ill all night after eating too many curry flapjacks. We didn’t want to make Cara feel worse.
’Yes, what did you want to talk to us about?’ I asked.
Cara held her mug tight and stared into the creamy brown swirl.
‘I
’ve decided it’s time I got myself sorted and made an appointment to see the doctor – about everything that’s been going wrong lately. I’m really worried… that I’ve got some sort of early onset dementia.’ She swallowed. ‘You don’t reckon he’ll think me silly?’
I put down my drink. ‘Cara, I wrote an article on it once. The early onset kind is more hereditary and there’s no history of it in your family, is there? I really don’t think you need to worry.’
‘But I’ve got the symptoms – I’ve often felt confused the last couple of months and my mood’s been really low. If John had felt like this I’d have got him down the surgery months ago. But I’ve been putting it off. Hoping things would improve. They haven’t.
‘Have you researched this online?’ asked Davina sharply.
Cara blushed. ‘I know that’s the worst thing I could do.’
‘It’s not as if you’re having trouble carrying out daily tasks,’ I said. ‘That’s one of the first signs—’
‘But the flapjacks…’
‘You followed the recipe perfectly – you just put out the wrong ingredient,’ said Davina. ‘Darling. You are probably just tired. What with Audrey moving in and—’
‘Thank God she did. Audrey’s been a real help as the months have passed. I wish I could confide in her or John but both of them comment so often about how capable I am.’ Her voice broke. ‘Admitting how I’ve been feeling, it would be as if I’m letting the side down. I’ve had to hold everything together these last few months. So I’ve done what I can to hide it. All the presents are bought online this year, and I’ve decided not to make my own Christmas cake after all.’
‘You aren’t invincible, darling – none of us are,’ said Davina. ‘You’re allowed to get stressed and make mistakes – and take shortcuts, if it feels right. We all mess up now and again. Remember last year when I accidentally understated Max’s earnings and had to go through the voluntary disclosure process with the tax office? But these things happen. I’ve got young twins. A cleaner and gardener to manage. Holidays to book. New shades of lipstick to investigate. My brain isn’t going to be on fire the whole time.’
Cara caught my eye and we couldn’t help chuckling. Davina joined in.
‘Seriously, though – I didn’t beat myself up about it. I’m not a robot. There’s no preset programme. I have to work things out as I go along, like we all do. Life offers no guarantees. Your two girls are always so happy and that’s the main thing.’
‘And what about that article I wrote, about the anonymous graffiti in Chesterwood that brought about support for stopping the closure of the drug rehabilitation centre?’ I said. ‘I reported that I’d found the artist. But I didn’t check his story out thoroughly and it turned out – after publication – that he’d lied to me and actually been in prison at the time the artwork went up. The real graffiti artist came forward. That magazine has never commissioned a piece from me since.’
‘What we’re saying is,’ said Davina, ‘don’t expect to be perfect. It’s impossible.’
‘There are other things that could be causing my memory problems; too much alcohol, perhaps…’
‘Cara! You only drink, max, what, one bottle of wine a week,’ I said. ‘You’ve been under stress and anxious. Both of those can cause forgetfulness.’
‘But there have been so many incidents! The burnt lemon meringue pie, me putting red shorts in a white wash, jumpers I’ve knitted unravelling, me muddling salt with sugar… and then forgetting the non-uniform day. That’s really not like me. Things are getting serious if my health is affecting the girls. They are my top priority. I can’t let that carry on.’ She sighed and put down her teaspoon. ‘I don’t know… maybe I’m making a fuss. Perhaps I won’t bother the doctor. I mean, what would I really say?’
‘I think you should definitely go, just to put your mind at ease,’ said Davina.
‘To be honest, we have been worried, Cara – not because we think anything is seriously wrong, but because you aren’t happy.’
She wiped her nose. ‘Looking after the girls and running the house efficiently, it’s what I enjoy doing most – and doing well. But lately it feels like I’ve been failing and I’m not used to that. Normally I… I take pride in how I run things.’
‘And so you should,’ said Davina.
‘It’s not just forgetting things, like, say, what I had for tea last night. No, I’ve been actually doing really stupid stuff – like the plastic bowl melting on the hob. I’m really worried I might do something eventually that puts the girls’ lives at risk. That curry powder was bad enough but what if it had been, say, the powder I put down to kill ants?’
‘Do you want us to come to the appointment?’ I asked.
‘No. I’ll be okay. Thanks for listening, you two, and helping me think it through. I feel a bit better already – as if I’m in charge again.’ She sipped her drink. ‘Now how about you both tell me about the lots you’ve got for the auction at the fair on Saturday… or rather how Mia’s doing? I chatted to her in the playground and it sounds as if she’s put in loads of work organising it.
I picked up Cara’s phone and handed it to her. ‘We will. After you’ve rung the surgery.’
28
Like all the parents volunteering, and local craft makers who took part every year, Kit turned up early to the fair on Saturday to help set up – having first shovelled a clear path outside and thrown more grit down. The snow lay heavily this morning. With ease he carried the tables, each one on his own, declining help from parents. He set them out in a circle, around the sports hall, and slowly their surfaces filled up. Lily offered to help with the chocolate tombola that was being run by the music teacher.
It was fifteen minutes before the doors were due to open at one o’clock. I gazed around the bustling room. There was a corner set aside for decorating baubles, a lucky dip and a hook-the-duck. With Audrey’s help Cara’s table was set up with plain gingerbread cookies waiting to be transformed by tubes of icing and sprinkles. There was the old favourite, a bottle tombola, and a local children’s author selling her latest book. I’d donated a tray of brownies to the cake stall and after much bargaining a few of Lily’s old toys to the bric-a-brac corner. There was a pin the nose on Rudolph game too. One mum was doing Christmas-themed face painting and next to her Davina had set up a table to varnish children’s nails.
Adam never got see his daughter at school fairs. Or taking part in sports days. He didn’t get to attend parents’ evening and hear the compliments or witness her excitement about her first sleepover.
I wished I could screenshot today and somehow send it to him.
I wished I’d been able to screenshot days from the past to show Lily. Like Adam’s indignant expression that time he’d slipped and fallen into a cow pat. And the pure joy on his face when he held her for the first time.
Davina caught my eye and beckoned. ‘Have you seen Mia? She’s bringing in spare varnish from her salon.’
‘She just texted. Tommy’s dragging his feet. Says he doesn’t want to come. Where are Arlo and Jasper?’
‘Getting changed after building a snowman with Max. It’s a shame they don’t get on better with Tommy. I like Mia. But when I suggested he came to tea Jasper grimaced and Arlo stuck his tongue out.’
‘Did Mia go to the food bank again yesterday?’
‘Yes. She’s signed up to do it every Friday, at the same time as me. It’s uncanny how much we’ve got in common. We’ve got the same store cards and hairdresser. There’s nothing she doesn’t know about skincare and I’ve recommended my personal shopper. Ah, there she is.’ Davina waved and I turned around. A sullen Tommy walked by Mia’s side. She pulled off her bobble hat and smoothed down her hair before thrusting a plastic bag towards Davina.
Davina peered in and her face lit up. ‘Glittery nail varnishes. They’ll go down a treat.’
Max appeared with the boys, whilst Davina was lining up the new colours. He came over for a chat but Mia and I had
only a quarter of an hour to discuss the auction before the fair started so he insisted on taking Tommy around with the twins. None of the three children looked nearly as grateful as Mia. Max said there was football goal shooting set up in one classroom and refreshments, including mulled wine and Christmas cake, in another. The aromatic smell was already seductively winding its way around the tables.
‘We’ll just announce at the beginning that there is a list up on the noticeboard by the piano, stating the times that each lot will be auctioned,’ I said as the Head turned on her favourite Motown Christmas music CD. ‘And if there is anything they are interested in to go to Year Six’s classroom where it will be taking place.’
Mia handed me a sheet of paper she’d taken out of her bag and unfolded it. ‘I typed it up last night. We’ve had almost twenty donations. There’s my beauty treatment voucher, offers from a chiropractor and baker and signed books from the author over there. Love in a Mug have given us a voucher for afternoon tea and the wine shop in Alderston has given us a bottle of bubbly.’
‘I’d love the voucher for a day trip to Highclere Castle. Downton Abbey was wonderful.’
‘It’s from one of my clients,’ said Mia. ‘She was given it as a present but has already been.’
‘I’m keeping everything crossed that we raise enough money.’
‘I’ve only just started at the food bank but can’t believe what I’m already hearing. Take one young woman – her boyfriend recently moved in. They didn’t realise the change of circumstances would mean benefits would be delayed for two months. Both on low wages, they’ve struggled to pay for the gas and electric, let alone food. She’s grateful the kids get free school dinners but when she came in, neither her nor her partner had eaten for two days.’
‘It’s shocking.’
‘And then there was this older man – he’d always lived with his mum and struggled with his mental health since she died and he lost his job.’ She shook her head. ‘If you haven’t got food to put on the table, where are you supposed to go if places run by people like Ron disappear?’ She headed over to the piano and firmly pinned the list onto the board.
The Christmas Calendar Girls Page 18