With Love at Christmas

by Carole Matthews

I should accept that, whoever these mystery texts have come from, they’re not a threat to our relationship. Rick loves me. I know that and I should trust it. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘Who knows what kind of madness tomorrow might bring? If we’re too busy fighting fires, I just want to wish you a very happy Christmas, Juliet.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Rick.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says with mock surprise. ‘Look what I’ve found!’ From behind his back, my husband produces the mistletoe that was, previously, hanging at the front door.

  He holds it above my head and, despite the fact that we’ve already used up our annual quota of romance in one night, we put it to jolly good use.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Christmas morning. I’m up with the lark. Except I imagine even the lark is still, quite sensibly, in bed.

  Rick too is wide awake. He came down and hacked the legs off the turkey so that we could shoehorn it into the oven. Now it’s safely in there doing its thing.

  He and Merak brought the dining table in from the garage and set it up at one end of the living room. Now that our numbers have swelled, with the addition of Merak and Mitch, I’ll need to open the middle leaf, and if we all squash up close it will just about accommodate us.

  ‘Anything else you need me to do right now?’ Rick asks.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Merak will help you out if you need an extra pair of hands, won’t you, lad?’

  ‘But of course,’ the unfailingly helpful Merak says.

  ‘I’ll go and get Chloe. The sooner we have her home, the better,’ Rick says, and off he goes to the hospital. She texted us at first light to say that he could go and pick her up at ten o’clock this morning. I think the wards are probably trying to get rid of everyone they can over Christmas and, thankfully, both mother and baby still seem to be doing just fine. Like Rick, I can’t wait for them to be home at Christmas too.

  Merak joins me by the sink and we both set to peeling potatoes, carrots and parsnips. I show Merak how to do the sprouts, putting little crosses in the bottom so that they cook properly, and he does them all methodically without complaint.

  While he’s busy, I set the table. This time of year, I bring out the best china, the crystal glasses, the silver-plated canteen of cutlery that just gathers dust for the rest of the year and has to be given a good old polish before it’s fit for purpose. I fold the luxury red napkins into the shape of a fan. Each glass is decorated with a twist of star-studded tinsel. When Buster trots in to see what’s going on, he gets a tinsel bow on his collar. He trots out again looking very festive and pleased with himself.

  When I’m done, I sneak a present from beneath the Christmas tree. I’ve bought Tom two shirts, and he can manage perfectly well without one of them. Upstairs, I take off the label, write out another one for Merak and then replace the present under the tree. As Rick had given him a good Christmas bonus, I wasn’t planning to buy him anything else, but now that seems mean. I want him to have something to unwrap today and not be left out.

  Back in the kitchen, Merak is rapidly disappearing beneath a mountain of peeled vegetables.

  ‘You’re doing a great job there, Merak.’

  ‘Thank you, Juliet.’

  ‘Let’s crank up the Christmas tunes. That’ll put some power in our elbows.’ So Merak and I, side by side, work our way through another bag of potatoes, both singing along to Wham and ‘Last Christmas’.

  Then the doorbell rings, and I wipe my hands down my apron and go to see who it is. Standing there is a tiny, birdlike girl who looks as if she might originally be from Thailand or somewhere. Behind her are two hulking children who are pushing into adolescence. She’s wearing a red leather mini skirt, a low-cut blouse and heels that are so high I don’t know how she can stand in them, let alone walk. Her face looks like it has seen some life.

  ‘Hello,’ she says in a shrill voice. ‘Very nice to meet you.’

  ‘Hello.’

  Then she totters past me and into the hall before I can ask who she is.

  ‘You have very nice house. Come, come,’ she says to her boys who, somewhat sulkily, follow her inside.

  ‘Er . . . ’

  ‘I’m Mali. We have not met.’

  ‘No,’ I agree. We certainly haven’t.

  ‘Tom has told me very much about you.’

  Ah, Tom. ‘I’m afraid Tom’s not here at the moment.’

  ‘I know,’ she says, taking off her coat. ‘He texted me. He will be here soon.’

  ‘Oh, good.’

  The woman tosses her coat on the stairs. As it looks like she’s planning on staying, I pick it up and put it in the cupboard. ‘Come, come,’ she says to the boys and, with more sulking, they too strip off their coats.

  ‘He has told me to make myself at home,’ she informs me.

  ‘Oh.’ She’s certainly taking Tom at his word. ‘And who are these charming chaps?’

  The woman looks blankly at me until she realises that I’m talking about her children. ‘This is Niran and Kamol. Say hello.’

  Neither of them do.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, boys,’ I say into the silence. They both glare at me in response, so I show her through to the living room. ‘Can I get you a drink? Tea, or something?’

  ‘White wine,’ Mali orders. ‘Not too dry.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I put TV on for boys?’

  ‘Er, yes.’

  ‘Come, come,’ she barks at the sullen youths. ‘Watch TV.’

  In the kitchen, I ring Tom and, by some sort of miracle, he actually picks up. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Bit tricky to explain, Mum.’

  ‘There’s a young lady and two children waiting here for you.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘What’s she doing here?’

  ‘You told me you wanted me to bring someone home to meet the family.’

  I did. But I wasn’t thinking on Christmas Day and with two kids in tow. ‘Is she your girlfriend?’

  ‘Well,’ he says. ‘Sort of.’ Very cagey. It probably means that he met someone else last night and is currently with her or him, all thoughts of Mali flown from his head. Also she’s a good ten years older than Tom, with two teenage children. But does the fact that he’s bringing her home for Christmas lunch mean that he’s planning for their relationship to be something more permanent? I’ve only met her for two seconds and, already, I’m hoping not.

  ‘Are they all staying for lunch?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He answers as if it was a very stupid question for me to ask.

  ‘You could have warned me.’ Or, God forbid, even have been here to meet them.

  ‘Chill,’ Tom says. ‘There’s always enough grub to feed an army. A couple more aren’t likely to make a difference.’

  My son hangs up before I can protest. But he’s probably right. I’d better get Merak to peel some more potatoes just in case.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Rick pushed Chloe in a wheelchair to the car park while she carried the precious cargo of her new baby daughter in her arms. He unlocked the car door and helped her to stand up. It had taken him ages to secure the Moses basket in the back of the car according to instructions. Even with Jaden, he was out of practice with these things, and he felt more nervous than when he brought home either of his own children.

  Perhaps the advancing years just made you more aware of all the things that could go wrong. As a youth he thought that the future would always be bright, the sun would shine and everything would be well. Now life had worn him down to his knees and he was terrified of bringing another little bundle of innocence into it.

  Chloe was subdued when he helped her to fix Holly in the Moses basket and then assisted her as she shuffled into the passenger seat. It was clear that she was still tender and feeling weak. Her face was puffy, and it looked like she’d been crying.

  Rick slid into the driver’s seat. He patted his daughter’s kne
e. ‘What a present to be bringing home for Christmas.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said quietly, and then promptly burst into tears.

  Oh, how he wished that Juliet was here. He was so rubbish at this sort of thing. ‘Hush, hush.’ He wrapped his arms round her. ‘Why the tears?’

  ‘It should be Mitch taking me home,’ she sniffled. ‘Mitch and Jaden.’

  ‘I know,’ Rick said. ‘I know.’ He patted her back.

  ‘I haven’t got wind, Dad,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Right.’ No patting.

  ‘I want us all to be a family again.’ Pained wailing. Oh, God, where was Juliet when he needed her? Peeling spuds for England, no doubt. ‘Me, Mitch, Jaden and Holly.’

  ‘You can be,’ Rick assured her. ‘But it takes hard work.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be hard work if you love someone,’ she countered.

  ‘That’s nonsense, Chloe, and you know it. You don’t drift through life with everything all hearts and flowers. Most of it is just everyday grind that you’ve got to get through. Even more so with two young babies to contend with. You and Mitch didn’t come together in the most ideal of circumstances,’ Rick reminded her.

  ‘Neither did you and Mum, but you’ve been happy together.’

  ‘We’ve had our moments, Chloe. Times when it wasn’t going so well, when we had to grit our teeth and get on with it.’ Now wasn’t the time to talk about the days when he’d just felt like packing a bag and walking away from the lot of them, or weighed down by the sheer relentless responsibility of family life. Or, even more recently, the time when Juliet came close to leaving them all and sailing off into the sunset with her old flame. They had weathered the storms and had come through them stronger. ‘You can’t just leave at the drop of a hat. So far, Mitch has been sitting waiting patiently for you. He might not wait for ever. If you want Mitch back, it’s up to you to try hard.’

  Perhaps there had been too much emphasis on the you, but he knew what hard work his daughter could be. She was the one who found domesticity suffocating, not Mitch.

  ‘He’s a sound bloke,’ Rick continued while he was on a roll and, for once, while his daughter seemed to be listening. ‘You’d go a long way to find better.’

  ‘I know,’ she conceded reluctantly.

  ‘By the time we get home he’ll probably be waiting there for you with Jaden.’

  Her face brightened. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I’m sure so. Shall we go? Think it’s safe to leave the car park?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Chloe risked a smile. As he went to pull away, she touched his arm. ‘Thanks, Dad. Thanks for the other night and . . . well, you know, everything.’

  ‘You’re welcome, love.’

  ‘You’re the best dad in the world, you know.’

  Flushed with pride, and despite wanting to put his foot down so that he could get home in time to help Juliet, he drove at a sedate thirty miles an hour so as not to jiggle his granddaughter on her first car journey.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Merak and I are making good progress on the lunch preparations when I hear the front door go and a voice from outside the kitchen asks, ‘Is it safe to come in?’

  Tom.

  ‘You have got your clothes on?’ he calls.

  ‘Tom! Get in here now.’

  My son edges round the door, hands over his eyes. Merak looks perplexed, as well he might.

  ‘Merak, could you go and ask Mali if she’d like another drink?’ She’s already knocked back three glasses and the sun certainly isn’t over the yardarm, but that doesn’t seem to trouble her.

  When he’s gone, I turn to Tom. ‘I don’t want you to mention last night,’ I say. ‘Nothing. No jokes, no cheeky comments.’

  ‘But you’re my parents.’ He pulls a disgusted face. ‘What are you doing still having sex?’

  ‘This is our house, Tom,’ I remind him. ‘If Dad and I want to swing from the chandeliers then we damn well will.’ My son shudders at the thought. Rick would probably shudder too, but I don’t mention that. ‘It might make you think twice about the parade of casual partners that you bring through here. From now on you’ll have some respect for our home. I hope you realise what it’s been like for me and Dad to keep walking in on you in compromising positions.’

  Tom has nothing to say to that.

  ‘Have I made myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ he says suitably penitent. Then his face breaks into a grin. ‘But it was very funny.’

  I whack his bottom with the tea towel. ‘It was not.’

  He breaks down into a belly laugh, and I can’t help but join him.

  ‘Who knew that my mother was such a raver?’ he says, shuddering.

  ‘Enough of that,’ I chide. ‘You have some responsibilities to attend to. There is a very drunk young woman and two surly children in the living room who I believe belong to you.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ He now looks like he’s regretting inviting the lovely Mali for Christmas.

  ‘I suggest you go and entertain her until lunch is ready.’

  Tom comes over and wraps his arms round me. ‘Sorry, Mum.’ He pecks my cheek. ‘Happy Christmas, old girl. I love you.’

  And, of course, that defuses all my irritation. ‘Merry Christmas, love. It’s good to have you home.’

  I realise that there’ll come a day when Tom will have a family of his own, and it may not always be possible to spend our Christmases together. I should be grateful to have him here while we can.

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’

  ‘We might not have enough room round the table with Mali and her sons. Can you and Merak bring in the garden table?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Give it a wipe down before you bring it indoors.’

  ‘I’ll get Merak to do that,’ Tom says. Clearly handling a j-cloth is beyond my university-educated boy.

  So Tom and Merak manhandle the table inside and I find more cutlery and glasses – though I’m all out of the best ones – and red napkins and tinsel twizzles. Then I turn my mind to stuffing balls.

  I have prepared two trays of perfectly spherical sausagemeat, sage and onion stuffing by the time that Mitch arrives with a totally hyperactive Jaden.

  ‘He was out of bed by four,’ Mitch tells me, barely suppressing a yawn as he strips off Jaden’s coat. ‘We have played non-stop with his Roary racing-car garage ever since. Only one of us is showing signs of losing interest. That right, buddy?’

  Jaden nods his agreement.

  ‘Brought it with you?’

  ‘In the boot of the car.’ Mitch has got this parenting lark down to a T, I think.

  I touch Mitch’s arm. ‘Congratulations on being a daddy again. You’re a lovely father.’

  He sighs. ‘I only wish the circumstances were different, Juliet.’

  ‘Don’t give up now,’ I urge. ‘I think Chloe may finally be changing for the better. I’d love to see you all as a family again.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘You know that I’ll do all I can to help. You only have to say the word.’ Then, before we can talk any more, I hear the car in the drive and say, ‘That’ll be Mummy back from the hospital, Jaden.’

  My grandson claps his hands together. ‘Mummy! Mummy!’

  On cue, Chloe comes through the door, precious bundle in her arms. On seeing Mitch, she bursts into tears. He rushes to her and holds her and the baby close, making soothing noises.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I whisper to Rick.

  ‘I think everything will be just fine,’ he says with a smile.

  Chapter Seventy

  ‘How’s your dad and Dr Jekyll?’ Rick wants to know.

  ‘Don’t call Mum that,’ I tut.

  ‘Are they ready for me to pick them up?’

  I nod. ‘Dad called a little while ago. They’re up, dressed and have had breakfast. Mum, by all accounts, is behaving herself beautifully.’

  ‘Wonders will never cease. It won’t last.’ He looks at his watch
. ‘I’ll go and get them now. Do you know, they’re forecasting snow again?’

  ‘How lovely. A white Christmas.’

  ‘You old romantic, you,’ he says, and comes to nuzzle my neck.

  ‘Rick! Someone might see.’

  ‘I don’t care. I love you, Mrs Joyce.’ He nuzzles some more. ‘Did you enjoy last night?’

  ‘The part where our son and his friends burst in and found us naked on the floor in the throes of love, or the bit before that?’

  Rick laughs. ‘I was thinking of the bit before. And, technically, we were asleep.’

  I nudge Rick in the ribs. ‘Well, one of us was!’

  ‘Tom wasn’t to know that. In future, he might just have a bit more respect for his old man’s virility.’

  ‘I think revulsion is the main emotion. He can’t believe we’re still “at it” at our age.’ Our son, I’m sure, would rather imagine that we’ve only ever had sex twice in our lives – once to conceive him and the next time for Chloe. ‘I’ve spoken to him this morning. He turned up shortly after his girlfriend Mali and her two sons.’

  ‘What?’

  I shrug. ‘You know Tom.’

  ‘Is it worth remembering the name of this one?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not.’ I don’t normally judge Tom’s eclectic taste in partners, but I feel I’m justified with this one.

  ‘Is said girlfriend staying for lunch?’

  ‘Looks that way.’

  ‘Have we got enough food?’

  ‘As long as everyone likes lots of potatoes.’

  ‘I’d better go and introduce myself to this lady.’ Rick straightens his collar.

  I don’t bother to tell my husband that she’s no lady. He’ll find out soon enough.

  ‘Go and get Mum and Dad first please, love. I’m worried about them. I won’t relax until they’re back in this house and under my wing again.’

  ‘How the tides turn,’ Rick notes. He kisses my cheek. ‘All right. I’ll be back in ten minutes and then I’ll be your kitchen slave.’

  ‘Merak has been doing a sterling job in your absence.’