With Love at Christmas

by Carole Matthews

  He looks at me bleakly. ‘Why didn’t you mention it?’

  ‘I could say the same to you.’

  Rick sinks into the chair in front of him. He puts his head in his hands at the table. ‘Has it come to this, that we can never even find time to talk to each other about our worries? Are we so busy with everyone else’s that we ignore our own?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say to him. ‘That’s exactly what it is.’

  ‘Come here,’ he says, and holds out an arm.

  I abandon the lunch preparation and go over to him. He pulls me down onto his lap. ‘I love you,’ he says. ‘More with every passing year. You’re a wonderful wife and a fantastic mother. No man could ask for more. Believe me when I say that I’d never do anything to hurt you.’

  Tears prickle my eyes. ‘I do.’

  ‘I was just trying to help out someone in trouble. I should have told you. Of course I should. But, in my own stupid way, I was trying to protect you. I may have been misguided, but I didn’t want to put any more pressure on you.’

  ‘We should have taken five minutes to clear the air,’ I acknowledge. ‘It wouldn’t have built up in my mind out of all proportion like it has.’

  ‘We need to find time for each other, Juliet,’ he says. ‘In all this madness –’ he gestures to where our rabble of guests are waiting for their lunch ‘– let’s not lose sight of ourselves.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  ‘We need to make time for us.’ He holds me tightly, and I melt into the comfort of his arms. ‘We should have a romantic night, like we did last night when everyone was out, on a regular basis.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m up for being tied to the coffee table again.’

  We both laugh at the memory.

  ‘We could go to a hotel,’ Rick offers. ‘Just overnight. They could cope without us.’

  ‘Yes. We should do that.’ Then I find myself crying. ‘It would be nice.’

  ‘Hush, hush,’ he says, rocking me like a child. ‘No crying on Christmas Day.’

  ‘No.’ I sniff back the tears.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rick says. ‘Forgive me?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘You can put me on potato-peeling duty as punishment.’

  ‘I think Merak has done you out of a job.’

  ‘Then I’ll make it up to you some other way, Juliet. You’ll see.’

  ‘And this girl, Lisa? You say that she’s all by herself today?’

  ‘Yes. I think that’s why she keeps texting me. She’s lonely. It’s just her and her little girl – a waif of a thing – by themselves with no heating.’ Rick’s voice cracks again. ‘Imagine spending Christmas Day like that!’

  ‘I can’t,’ I admit. Not now. Not now, when my home is filled with warmth and laughter and plenty. But it’s easy for me to think back to when I was a child and it was just me and Mum and Dad sitting quietly round a meagre turkey and dreaming of what it would be like to have a big, happy family Christmas filled with fun. That’s the image that rips at my heartstrings. ‘Phone her,’ I tell Rick before I think better of it. ‘Phone and tell her that, if she wants to come and spend Christmas with us, you’ll go and pick her up.’

  Rick’s face brightens. ‘Really?’

  ‘Get her to bring some overnight things, too. She might as well stay.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course. I just wish you’d told me earlier.’

  ‘So do I,’ Rick says. ‘I should have known what you’d do, too.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ I chivvy. ‘Call her.’

  ‘The dinner won’t spoil, will it?’

  ‘I’ll keep it all warm until she gets here.’

  While Rick phones the girl and asks her to spend Christmas Day with us, I think – for what must be the umpteenth time – that I had better peel some more potatoes.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  While Rick is going to collect Lisa and Izzy, I tell our guests that lunch is going to be delayed slightly and top up their glasses again. I try to miss out my mother, but she’s having none of it. I drain the dregs from the advocaat bottle, mix it with some brandy, lemonade and lime juice and she knocks back yet another glass. Dad rolls his eyes at me, and I wonder whether I should tell her that we’ve run out, or open another bottle. But she’s dangerous whether she’s drunk or sober, so I find another bottle in the cupboard. I put out more bowls of Kettle Chips, mixed nuts, the Eat Me dates and some cheese straws that Dad has baked. Everyone tucks in. I hope they don’t eat too much, though, as I’ve got enough potatoes in the oven to sink a battleship.

  On the sofa, Tom and Mali are sulking, arms folded in defensive poses, while the boys have a bare-knuckle fight on the floor unchecked.

  ‘Those fat boys are fighting,’ my mother notes over the rim of her glass.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ I say, trying not to look. As long as they don’t kill each other before lunch.

  It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve spent five hours in A&E on Christmas Day. One year, Tom broke his arm when he came down in the dark just before dawn to see if Santa had eaten his mince pie and went headlong down the stairs. Dinner was delayed that year, too. Then there was the time that Rick sliced through his finger with the K-tel cordless electric carving knife that has remained unused in the drawer ever since. The Christmas that Chloe got her first bike ended in tragedy and a trip to the hospital when she went straight over the handlebars and knocked out her two front teeth. In fact, there have been too many disastrous Christmas dinners to recount. This year, I hope, will be different.

  Jaden is entertaining them all with his electric guitar at full volume. Chloe and Mitch are trying to look encouraging, and I notice that Chloe has her hand tucked into Mitch’s. Only dear, sweet Holly is sleeping blissfully through the din. I don’t think Jaden will be on Britain’s Got Talent any time soon, and I’m glad to retreat to the kitchen.

  I put some more potatoes to roast in the oven and Merak, bless him, follows me into the kitchen and peels more veg to add to the pans that are starting to bubble on the hob. He’s probably glad to escape the noise too. I can only hope we’ve got enough to feed everyone. I don’t like anyone to leave the Joyce household hungry.

  When everything is under control, I think about texting Robin Westcroft. It’s only now that I’ve got a moment to do so. I don’t know why, but my thoughts have turned to him several times this morning, and I’m hoping that everything is OK with him and his wife.

  I tap out a text. Hope you and Rosemary are having a lovely day. Merry Christmas from Juliet, Rick and family xx

  A few seconds after I send it, my phone rings and it’s Robin at the other end.

  ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Merry Christmas.’ But I can tell from his voice that it’s not very merry at all.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘No,’ he says without preamble. ‘She’s left me, Juliet. This morning.’ A sob chokes his throat. ‘Who leaves home on Christmas Day?’

  ‘Oh, Robin.’

  ‘She’s got someone else, and she’s gone to him. Just like that.’

  I don’t know what to say.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ Robin asks. ‘What am I going to do now?’

  ‘Don’t be alone,’ I urge. ‘Not today. Come over here.’

  ‘I’d be terrible company, Juliet,’ he says. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

  ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Does he sound a bit slurry? He might. ‘If you have, then Rick can come for you.’

  ‘No, no. I promise you I haven’t touched a drop. But I warn you, I do plan to get seriously and heartily drunk.’

  ‘That’s fine by me. If you’re still sober, then get in the car and come straight over,’ I insist. ‘I don’t want you to do anything silly. I won’t have you drinking alone on Christmas Day.’ The Westcrofts live in an enormous house in a village outside Stony Stratford, and I can picture him rattling around in there by himself. Don’t they
say that the majority of relationships break down at Christmas? But it must, surely, be a rare one that actually ends on Christmas Day itself. ‘We can just sit you in a corner and ply you with red wine, if that’s what you want. Please don’t stay at home and brood. Lunch is nearly ready, so you’ll have to get here as soon as you can.’

  ‘I’m still in my dressing gown.’

  ‘It’ll take you five minutes to have a shower and get dressed. You can be here in no time at all. We’ll wait for you.’

  ‘I don’t like to intrude.’

  ‘I won’t take no for an answer, Robin.’

  ‘Then I’d better jump in the shower,’ he says, and now I can hear a glimmer of a smile in his voice.

  ‘See you just as soon as you can get here.’

  I hang up.

  ‘More carrots and parsnips?’ Merak asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘I think we better had.’

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Rick arrives back with Lisa and Izzy. Both are scrubbed shiny and are wearing what are clearly their best clothes. I can see why Rick was concerned about them, though, as both mother and daughter look as if they could do with a damn good meal in them. I’m hoping we’ll rectify that very soon before everything is a dried-up mess.

  ‘Hello,’ Lisa says shyly. ‘This is very kind of you.’ She pushes Izzy forward. ‘Say hello to the lady.’

  ‘Juliet,’ I tell her. ‘Hello, Izzy.’

  The child sucks her thumb and clings to Lisa’s leg.

  ‘Make yourself at home,’ I tell her. ‘You’re family now.’

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ she says.

  My husband and I exchange a glance. Rick knows that my expression says that until a short while ago, I had heard nothing very much about them. I smile at Lisa. ‘And I’m very much looking forward to getting to know you and Izzy.’

  Rick puts down Lisa’s overnight bag. We’re going to need to have a serious bedroom reshuffle before the day is out.

  ‘We’ve got another visitor on his way too,’ I tell Rick.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Robin Westcroft’s on his own today. Wife’s left,’ I mouth, so that Lisa can’t see. ‘I thought he might like to join us.’

  ‘The more the merrier,’ Rick says. ‘We’d better put the kitchen table in the living room, as well – if it’ll fit – and move the sofa to one end.’

  ‘That sounds like a fine idea. I’m going to need to serve this dinner soon.’ The turkey is beginning to look like a barbecued budgie.

  ‘I’ll get Merak to do it with me in a minute,’ Rick says.

  ‘He’s in the living room doing another drinks round at the moment.’ I turn to Lisa. ‘Let’s take you both through to meet everyone. I apologise in advance for my mother. She’s not herself.’

  In the living room, Jaden is still on the guitar. My mother is accompanying him by singing ‘I Am Sixteen, Going On Seventeen’ from The Sound of Music in front of the Christmas tree, though my grandson is actually playing a completely different and somewhat unidentifiable tune. Some of the tinsel is draped round her shoulders and she has two crimson baubles dangling from her ears. Liesl she isn’t.

  ‘I tried to stop her,’ Dad says, head in hands. ‘God knows I tried.’

  ‘Come on, Mum. Sit down now. We’re about to have dinner. And we’ve got some guests.’

  ‘Give it a rest, Gran,’ Chloe shouts. ‘You’ll scare the baby.’

  Thankfully, Mum stops singing. Suddenly, it catches me unawares that it would normally be Samuel standing here, belting out a tune or two. My throat closes and tears rush to my eyes. I bite them down. This is neither the time nor the place, but the absence of Samuel cuts like a knife.

  Rick, blissfully unaware of my turmoil, takes the opportunity to ease the guitar from Jaden and hide it behind the tree. ‘You can play that later,’ he says with a wink. I know that he’s secretly hoping Jaden will forget that he ever had a guitar and that we probably should have gone for the Grand Play Villa option from Toys R Us instead. Or, in fact, any other silent toy.

  ‘Everyone, this is Lisa and Izzy.’

  ‘You’re a pretty little thing,’ Mum says, and I’m so relieved because, frankly, these days it could have been so much worse. I feel like I’m on tenterhooks every time she speaks.

  ‘Hi,’ Chloe and Mitch say. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  ‘And this is Merak.’

  Lisa turns to look at our newly adopted son and everything in the room goes still – even I can feel it. Their eyes lock, and the connection between them is instant and electric. Merak looks as if he might fall to the floor with joy.

  Eventually, Lisa breaks the spell. ‘Hi,’ she says shyly.

  ‘I am very pleased to meet you,’ Merak responds when he finds his voice.

  I’ll swear there are fireworks exploding all round them, and the aftershock of my mother’s singing is replaced by the faint strains of Karen Carpenter crooning ‘Close To You’ in the ether. Hmm. There’s a turn-up for the books. I think I’d better sit them together at dinner.

  The sound of a car turning into our drive signals the arrival of Robin Westcroft. I heave a sigh of blessed relief. Finally, our long-awaited Christmas lunch can commence. Then, a second later, there’s an excruciatingly loud bang followed by the sound of metal crumpling and glass tinkling.

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ Rick says.

  He and I rush full pelt out of the house. Robin, it seems, hasn’t quite remembered where the brake is in time to stop hitting my car which has, in turn, been shunted into Rick’s van which has, as a result, catapulted straight forward into the garage door.

  As we approach, Robin opens his car door and slumps out sideways into the drive. ‘Sorry,’ he says with a hysterical giggle. ‘Awfully sorry.’

  When Robin Westcroft said he hadn’t been drinking, I now fear that he was, indeed, lying.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Robin staggers into the house, hoisted on one side by Rick and on the other by Merak. He is veering between laughter and sobbing.

  ‘Coffee,’ I say to Rick. ‘That’s what he needs. Strong black coffee. And quick. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘My bloody van,’ Rick rages. ‘Have you seen the state of it?’

  ‘It’s Christmas Day,’ I remind him. ‘Let’s not worry about it now. We can sort it out soon enough.’ But that fails to dispel Rick’s black looks.

  They prop Robin up in one of the kitchen chairs and I make him coffee. Rick and Merak go out to untangle the cars.

  ‘Drink this,’ I say, and hand him a cup of coffee so strong you could stand the spoon up in it.

  It’s fair to say that my boss is looking somewhat sheepish now.

  ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Juliet,’ he says, head hung low. ‘You’re kind enough to invite me round, and then I do this.’ He waves in the general direction of our crumpled cars.

  ‘Don’t worry about that, not today. We’ll fix them as soon as the garage opens after the holiday.’

  ‘I’ll pay for them, of course. I’ll pay for everything.’

  That’ll keep Rick happy, at least.

  ‘Rosemary’s gone off with a younger man,’ he continues. ‘A fitness instructor half her age. She said I’d become boring.’

  ‘You’re not boring,’ I reassure him.

  ‘I certainly don’t have bulging biceps. Not like Darren.’

  ‘Maybe not, but you’re a lovely man.’

  ‘When I’m not drunk and wrecking cars?’

  ‘You should have let Rick come to collect you. It would only have taken him five minutes.’

  ‘I didn’t want to put him out, if you can believe it. I mess up everything.’ Robin sighs, head in hands. ‘Rosemary didn’t appear until the small hours again. I had no idea where she was. A familiar pattern. We had a hell of a row, and she told me. This morning, she packed a bag and just went.’

  ‘The ruby bracelet?’

  ‘Still in its box
,’ Robin says sadly. ‘She didn’t even stay long enough to open it.’ He tries a brave smile. ‘I wonder if they’ll give me a refund?’

  ‘Are you feeling a bit better now?’ What I mean is, can he sit up straight long enough to eat? My turkey is probably drying out nicely now to the texture of shoe leather, and at this rate I’ll have to make a lot more gravy to disguise it.

  Robin nods.

  ‘Can you face some lunch?’

  ‘I’m starving,’ he admits. ‘Drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t perhaps the best idea I’ve ever had.’

  ‘I speak from experience when I say that the alcohol/no food combo is always a dangerous one.’

  ‘I realise that now.’ Robin lets out another stifled sob. ‘What am I going to do, Juliet?’

  ‘This could be a new start for you, Robin,’ I suggest softly. ‘You and Rosemary haven’t been right for some time.’ To my knowledge, this has been building up for a couple of years. ‘In a few months, when you’re feeling better, you might be able to view it in a positive light. You never know, but out there the perfect woman might just be waiting for you.’

  ‘When am I going to meet someone else? All I ever do is work.’

  ‘Love moves in funny ways,’ I say. ‘All you need is some time. Maybe some other things in your life need to change.’ I pat his knee and stand up. ‘Now, if you’re OK for the moment, I’d better get that lunch ready, or my guests might start eating the decorations off the tree.’

  ‘I’m sorry to throw your plans out,’ Robin says. ‘I’m such a fool.’

  ‘Stop apologising,’ I insist. ‘Kick back and enjoy the rest of the day.’ As I plan to do.

  I’m going to forget my crashed car, my son’s stroppy girlfriend, my mad mother and everything else. This is the one day of the year that I love the best, and nothing is going to stop me from having a lovely time.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Merak, of course, is the first one to come and help in the kitchen. Together we carry through the turkey and all the trimmings. Then we make another trip back for the dishes of vegetables and the mountain of potatoes.