by kendra Smith
She climbed out of bed now, swept her dressing gown over her and glanced at the bay from the window. The tide was way out and the vast stretch of oatmeal sand lay empty apart from the one lone dog-walker. The sky was streaked with white and rose-pink clouds zigzagging haphazardly across it, heralding the beginning of a new day: Christmas Day. Maddie smiled to herself.
She had work to do; she wanted this Christmas to be memorable. She wanted to talk to Ed about Greg, and Greg about Ed… but she needed to find the right time.
She pulled her dressing gown tight around her as she padded barefoot across the hall. Ed’s door was ajar. He lay, sprawled out like a starfish, both feet peeking out of the duvet at the end of the bed. She’d never tire of looking at her man-boy, the child who used to keep grasshoppers in a matchbox by his bed until she explained it was a bit cruel and they needed to get back to the wild.
‘Mornin’, Mum,’ came a mumble from under the duvet.
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I always know when you’re spying on me.’ A grinning, stubbly face emerged from under the blue checked duvet.
‘Merry Christmas!’ She wandered over to the edge of his bed and sat down on the side.
He sat up on his elbows. ‘Merry Christmas! I won’t kiss you because I have morning breath!’
‘Eugh!’ She laughed. ‘You all right?’
‘Yup,’ he said, throwing the duvet back and leaping out of bed, ‘and I’ll be better when I see what’s under the tree! C’mon!’
Maddie grinned and followed her lanky son down the stairs and into the kitchen, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair from behind. He grabbed his coat and some wellies and went outside to get some more wood. As he made a fire, Maddie hummed to herself whilst the croissants warmed in the oven and she heaped fresh coffee into the cafetière.
When she took them through, Ed had managed to get a roaring fire going and was sitting back, with his long legs crossed on the sofa, looking at the tree. Under it, there were several presents and Maddie had placed a stocking on the sofa next to Ed.
‘Hey, you remembered? It looks a bit like the one I used to have…’
His voice trailed off and she was taken back to his childhood Christmases where the very first thing he’d opened was his stocking. It used to be hung on the end of his bed and she’d creep in every Christmas Eve and try desperately not to wake him.
‘I know you like your stockings. I tried to find one like you used to have, at the market yesterday.’ All their decorations and boxes were gone, or so Tim had said; most of the furniture had been sold and almost everything else had been taken by the bailiffs.
Ed tore into his stocking fillers – deodorant, chocolate, a stuffed penguin on a surfboard – with glee. It was magical to see the delight on his face.
Then, he handed Maddie her present from under the tree. It was quite big, square and wrapped hastily in holly-covered paper with tiny robins. ‘Open it!’ Ed demanded. She tore open the paper to find the beautiful painting of Brightwater Bay she’d admired at the Christmas markets.
‘Ed! It’s lovely, but you can’t afford this!’
‘Hey.’ He tapped his nose in an I-have-a-secret kind of way. ‘Ah, well, let’s just say me and the stallholder came to an agreement. He remembered you, and it was Christmas Eve and he didn’t want to have any stock to take back to his studio! Plus, I drive a hard bargain. Bali has taught me how to haggle!’
‘Well, it’s beautiful,’ she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘I love it.’ She stood up, and placed the painting on the mantelpiece, where it immediately looked at home. Not as hard as you think.
‘There’s more,’ he said, pointing to the wrapping paper on the floor. ‘Have another look.’
Maddie knelt down and turned the paper upside down. Out fell a sketchpad, some charcoal pencils and a small set of watercolours.
‘Oh, Ed, thank you!’
‘You always wanted to draw and paint, didn’t you?’
Maddie nodded. ‘It’s very thoughtful of you. Now it’s your turn! She handed over her presents to him: new Aviator sunglasses for the rest of his trip, a voucher and a cheque – as much as she could afford – from Olive’s money.
‘Mum! It’s too much! You need this for the cottage.’
‘No, I don’t. You use it travelling, to help pay for your flights, have some fun. It’s good to see you spread your wings, Ed. You’re happy.’
He scrunched up some silver Christmas paper and threw it in the fire. ‘I am happy. A lot of that’s to do with Adity and I do love travelling, seeing the world, you know? Thank goodness I went – I was feeling…’ He trailed off, shrugging.
‘Hemmed in?’ she offered.
‘Something like that.’
Then he turned to her, his face serious. ‘But what about Dad?’ Ed asked. ‘I know you’re mad at him, but he needs our help, Mum.’
‘Look Ed.’ She picked up a shred of silver paper and started to fold it over and over. She knew she could only tell Ed so much right now. It was enough that he knew about the gambling. She wouldn’t shatter his whole childhood by talking about Tim’s affair. ‘Listen, he’s lied to us, but you’re right, he does need help. He says he’s getting it, but until I know for sure, I don’t want to see him. Last time he came here, it was just to get money and I don’t want to give him money for obvious reasons.’
Ed nodded.
‘But you should go and see him. He doesn’t know you’re here. Call him. It is Christmas, after all.’ She squeezed his hand.
*
Two hours later, after they’d prepared the food and put the turkey in the oven, Ed moved the small table from the kitchen to the lounge, so they could eat by the fire. He set it out with crackers, and a few scented candles Ed had brought her from Bali. The cosy lounge looked lovely, and the view out to the bay was the perfect backdrop to the ‘shabby chic’ table set with mismatched wine glasses, thick linen napkins and silver crackers.
Greg turned up half an hour later, standing at the door in chinos, a tan leather belt, and a smart navy shirt with tiny polka dots on it. He was carrying some parcels – and a bottle of champagne.
‘Merry Christmas!’ He leant in and kissed her. He smelt of shower gel. She smiled at him and then held her finger up to his lips to wipe away a smudge of lipstick. He caught her hand there and gave it a quick kiss.
‘Come in, it’s freezing.’
After they’d had a few glasses of champagne in the lounge as the turkey rested, they set about sorting the dinner. Greg carved the turkey, Ed made his usual thick gravy and Maddie finished off cooking the vegetables.
‘Oh Jesus!’ she said suddenly after they’d eaten.
Ed and Greg turned around. ‘What?’
‘I forgot the pudding!’
Greg smiled. ‘No problem.’ He went to one of his bags lying on the kitchen floor and pulled out a box of luxury truffles. ‘Who needs pudding? We can gorge on these!’ He threw them over to Ed who caught them and started to open them up.
After they’d consumed the truffles, they sat, watching the honey-coloured sky above the ocean out on the bay. Everyone was stuffed. They’d talked about Bali, about Ed’s future plans to travel with Adity. They’d talked about how old they’d all been when they realised that Santa wasn’t real anymore. They’d talked about Christmases past, and how to cook a turkey; Greg mentioned that his favourite stuffing had sage and pine nuts in it, like his mum used to do. His eyes clouded over for a moment and Maddie knew that he was flicking open that emotional box that he’d kept firmly shut at university, the one marked ‘car crash’ – where he’d start to tell her about the awful events that led up to his parents’ death on a holiday in Cyprus on a twisty road, but then he’d shut down. She reached over and briefly touched his knee.
‘So, you guys, Exeter! That’s just crazy. Mum never mentioned you!’ Ed turned to grin at Greg whose eyebrows rose as he took a large slurp of wine.
‘Yes,’ said Gre
g quietly. ‘And you’re going to Exeter, is that right, Ed?’ Greg looked from Ed to Maddie.
‘Yup, that’s the idea.’ Ed nodded enthusiastically. ‘Following in those footsteps, eh, Mum?’ He grinned.
Ed couldn’t hear the strain in Greg’s voice as he talked, but Maddie could.
‘Yeah, I can’t wait. I went to visit the campus before I went travelling. Looks awesome, and I visited the zoology department and spoke to a few lecturers. The course I want to do – Applied Biology – is one of the best,’ he said, smiling at Greg.
Then he turned to Maddie and took another truffle out of the box. ‘Mum, you did Sociology, didn’t you? But you never sat your finals, did you? I suppose I’ve never asked you about it up until now,’ he said sitting up in his chair, ‘but now that I’m thinking of uni, I’m curious; you didn’t tell me why you left, Mum. You said you were ill and everything, but you missed your finals. I mean, wow. What actually happened?’
No, no, no. Greg sat stiffly upright and glanced quickly at her.
Was this really the right time to tell him everything, to unravel nineteen years of half-truths and oblique references? She knew he had a right to know. But they were all getting on so well, the two people she loved most in the world.
Well, if this was the start of a new beginning, then she had a duty. He knew the broad outline, but she’d kept it hazy. She hadn’t wanted him to feel any sort of guilt about what had happened. That had been her fault. But she couldn’t tell him everything yet.
‘It’s a long story, Ed. I, you know, wasn’t well.’
Greg shifted in his seat and started to pick up all the little golden paper truffle cases. He screwed each one up, one by one, and then put the tiny paper balls neatly on his plate.
‘I needed to go home. I freaked out about my finals.’ Two of them in that room knew that was a half-truth.
Taffie was barking noisily by then and Greg pulled back his chair. ‘I think someone wants to go out!’ he said as Taffie came up to him and started licking his hand.
‘I’ll go,’ Ed volunteered, pushing his chair back.
‘No, it’s fine, I’ll take him out. I could do with some fresh air.’ And with that Greg stood up and went to fetch Taffie’s lead.
Maddie poured herself some more wine, aware of the tension building in the air. Greg had been visibly shaken when Ed talked about Exeter. These old ghosts were hard to bury.
Ed put some logs on the fire, then came back to the table swaying a little and steadied himself on the back of a chair. He poured himself a small glass of port, then looked at Maddie as he took a seat.
He took a deep breath. ‘So, Mum, just what did happen, at uni? Why didn’t you finish, really?’ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You can tell me. Did you, like, get expelled or something?’ He grinned at her.
Tell him.
Ed fiddled with a toy from a cracker. It was a miniature geometry set; he was moving the pieces around the table. When he was tiny, he used to collect all the toys from the crackers and keep them in little boxes. She’d found one this summer when she’d been clearing out his room. Tiny dice, the geometry set, key rings – all little lottery wins for a child under ten; part of his childhood in a box.
She sat up straight.
He reached toward her with a cracker. ‘Pull, Mum!’ Snap! Maddie got the hat, the pencil sharpener – result! – and a Chinese saying. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
She glanced out of the glass doors to the garden to see Greg fiddling with Taffie’s lead. Taffie was bouncing around, making it hard for Greg to attach the lead to his collar. She had no idea if there was a future with her and Greg, but she had started to think there might be. Tim was out of her life. He’d left another voicemail last night, clearly drunk on Christmas Eve, about going for counselling and how he wanted to be part of her life, how sorry he was. How he’d never meant to hurt her, that he loved her. How could he love her when he’d been sleeping with Mrs Pearl Earring behind her back?
She knew with certainty she didn’t want him in her life anymore. The person she did want in her life was slowly but surely appearing in it more and more and she could feel her real heart, one that she had kept frozen out of her life, starting to thaw. The feeling was overwhelming.
But first, she needed to explain it all to Ed. She took another gulp of wine. This wasn’t going to be easy.
‘I didn’t get expelled, no. There’s a lot I need to tell you, Ed, a lot. I was about your age when I got myself into “trouble” as my parents put it.’
Ed looked over at her and cocked his head to one side. ‘What do you mean?’
So she explained. About the pregnancy. The hurt, the panic. Running back to her parents. The day of the finals, how she couldn’t face it, that everyone would know, that they’d be talking about her. How she tried to walk into that room and hold her head up high. The anguish of running out of the hall just after the adjudicator had told them to turn their papers over. The queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. How she couldn’t stop the tears. How she’d spent the most awful summer at home. The nausea, the vomiting. It brought all the memories back as her heart raced. She started to tell him about the bleeding, about being at home, about the shame. About her mother and father. Her mother had been ill then; she had the cancer, yet nobody had diagnosed her properly. There was much less information about breast cancer then, especially the aggressive kind her mother had had.
She looked over at the flickering fairy lights on the tree as she let the enormity of it all sink in. But she still hadn’t given Ed the full picture, coloured in some parts that needed dark and light shading to make them clearer.
The room was silent, apart from the crackling of the fire. The flames were deep orange, tangerine and purple, flickering in the grate.
Eventually Ed spoke. ‘You lost the baby?’
‘I did lose a baby, Ed, but—’
She opened her eyes to see Ed had taken her hand and was staring at her, wide-mouthed. She opened her mouth to carry on the story, but he interrupted.
‘But he left you. Whoever it was. Mum, that’s awful. You must have felt so, Jesus, so alone. My God.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘I could never do that to Adity.’
‘I did feel alone, but there was a reason—’ But she didn’t finish the sentence as Ed cut in.
‘What the hell reason could there be? There is no reason for that, Mum. Are you serious? I couldn’t imagine doing anything like that to Adity. It repulses me.’
‘Ed you don’t understand. There’s more—’
‘I’m sure there’s more,’ he slurred. ‘All the stuff you went through, oh God. Adity’s mother lost a child before she had Adity and sometimes she will talk to her about it… It must have been heartbreaking for you.’ He swept his fringe away from his forehead. ‘And anyway—’ he said, sitting up straighter in his chair and thumping his hand on the table ‘—just who was that fucker who got you pregnant, Mum? Then left you high and dry.’
‘Ed you don’t understand.’ Maddie’s chest felt tight. It was not meant to be like this.
‘Too right I don’t understand, Mum – who was it? We could hunt him down, Mum, cyber-stalk him… go on Facebook, you know?’
She could feel the heat rise up her chest as she looked down at the debris on the table: the crackers split in two, crumpled jokes. She’d been shredding her tissue paper hat in her hands. There was more to this story, but Ed wasn’t in the right frame of mind to understand… This was going horribly wrong.
She glanced outside; Greg had finally attached Taffie’s lead and was grinning at the dog, saying something, his breath caught in a misty halo around his head. Ed followed her gaze. The fire crackled and a spark fell onto the hearth. Ed’s eyes darted from her and back outside to Greg as then to the paper hat she was still shredding. Silence pressed down on both of them.
‘Wait a minute. Exeter. Greg?’ His voice went up at the end. Then a pause. ‘What?’
; ‘You don’t understand, Ed. It wasn’t like that. Please, Ed.’
‘Really? Because it is from where I’m sitting, no standing, right now!’ He exploded and stood up. He grabbed the back of the chair for support. ‘It sounds very much “like that” whatever that means, Mum!’ he spat. ‘I know it was “a different generation”, I know it was ages ago, I know you lost the baby… but for Christ’s sake, how could you let him back in your life again?’ With that, he marched to the glass doors.
‘Ed! No!’ she screamed, standing up. Just then, she felt dizzy and had to hold onto the back of her chair.
Ed yanked at the doors then stood on the steps, swaying. ‘Hey! Forget walking fucking Taffie,’ he yelled, his voice shrill. He stepped down into the garden, cold wind billowing into the lounge. Maddie shivered, watching the events unfold in front of her and, like holding a hand up to a waterfall, she was powerless to stop the torrent.
Ed marched over to Greg and yanked the lead from his hands. Greg glanced up to the house and frowned. ‘Ed? You all right, mate?’
Ed was having none of it and was in full pelt. ‘I’m fine, mate! But why don’t you take a walk instead? My mum doesn’t want to see you! I know everything that’s happened. How could you? Why don’t you fuck off back to your precious sailing club and fuck off out of our lives!’
Maddie shuddered. God, no, no, no! She pulled her shoulders back and then walked, shakily, to the doorway, the cold wind brushing past her as she stood on the step, shivering. ‘Ed! Greg, I need to explain!’ But it was too late. Greg glanced quickly back at her as Ed hauled a barking Taffie back into the cottage and slammed the door shut as Taffie whined in protest.
Maddie stared at Greg’s hunched silhouette, his head bent in the wind, walking across the garden to the back gate by the path. He opened it slowly and walked right out. Of her life? She had no idea. Not again… She grabbed the doorframe as another wave of nausea and dizziness overwhelmed her. Walking slowly, she returned to the table and sat down, then lowered her head onto the table and stifled a sob. How could it have gone so horribly wrong? And the problem was, Ed only knew half the story.