Rainbow wrinkles her nose as she tastes it. ‘Hot wine? RAD.’
‘Lovely,’ Stan says. ‘My favourite.’
‘Come on, let’s get this tree dressed.’
‘Squeeee!’ Rainbow says.
‘I’ll put some music on.’ Danny goes to the iPod dock.
‘There’s a Michael Bublé playlist,’ I tell him.
‘Lovely,’ Stan says. ‘My favourite.’ His wine glass is drained and I think he might just say that to everything on offer this evening.
‘Not Micky Bubble again,’ Lija complains.
Despite that, we observe my favourite traditions. The Bublé goes on, the mince pies come out, the mulled wine flows and the decorations go on the tree. I have another glass of wine and, as I look round at my friends, my lover, as they laugh and joke together, I realise what a very lucky person I am.
Chapter Sixteen
I pass one or two baubles to Stan which he hangs on the lower branches that he’s able to easily reach, but we’ve been dressing the tree for a while now and it’s all a bit much. So he sits down to enjoy another glass or two of mulled wine instead. As he’s not had a drink for some time, I keep the glasses small. I don’t want him getting giddy and falling over.
Lija exudes extreme reluctance, but joins in anyway. I think I’ve ground her down in my determination to be festive. When I look at her closely though, I can see that she looks tired down to her bones and I go and take the baubles from her. ‘Sit,’ I instruct. ‘You look all in. Have another glass of wine and then it’s an early night for you. I don’t want you collapsing on me before we even get to Christmas.’
For once, she doesn’t even argue. ‘I am tired,’ she agrees quietly and sits down on the sofa next to Stan. She rests her head on his shoulder and Stan beams at me, his cheeks pink from the wine and the warmth of the room.
Danny is clearly glad to be back in this odd little fold. He cuddles me and kisses me as often as he can and I can’t say that I’m complaining. I have a lifetime of cuddles to catch up on.
I study each decoration lovingly. Every year, as far back as I can remember, Miranda let me and Edie pick a new decoration for the tree. My sister and I would spend hours in the shop, money burning a hole in our hot little hands, trying to select the best one. I pick up a Hummel angel in china. She has a round, apple-cheeked face – much like Rainbow’s – and she’s hugging a Christmas tree. That year I went off piste and chose this to go on the mantelpiece. The little angel has survived the intervening years surprisingly well with only a tiny chip to the tree where Edie swiped it to the floor in a fit of pique over something trivial.
It makes me think of my sister. I really should call her. She doesn’t even know that Danny and I are back at the house. If I have enough mulled wine, I’ll steel myself to ring her.
‘OMG! Look at these!’ Rainbow holds out a collection of glass ornaments – different sizes of pine cones, all painted in gaudy colours, pink, blue, yellow and green.
‘This really will be a rainbow tree,’ I say.
‘Squeeeee!’ And Rainbow’s off again.
I should imagine that this is what it’s like to have children in the home at Christmas. Something that I’ve never experienced and, quite out of nowhere, that makes me really sad. Danny’s young, but I’m rapidly approaching my sell-by date. What if he ever decides that he wants children? He’d make a really great dad and has the patience of a saint. I can’t say that I’ve been overly careful with contraception in the past because Anthony and I made love only on high days and holidays. My birthdays and Christmas morning were always a given and, usually, New Year’s Eve. Beyond that it was all very sporadic. His golfing calendar definitely took priority over our love life. When I think of how different it is with Danny – how I feel loved, treasured, desired – I know that Anthony and I were only going through the motions. It’s probably as well that we never managed to have children. But I sort of feel differently now. There are emotions stirring inside me that have been dormant for so long.
As irritating as Rainbow can be, I do love having her around. Her silly comments, her unfailing enthusiasm for everything, her childish naivety. Perhaps in the same way that Stan said he feels paternal towards me, I’m feeling distinctly maternal towards Rainbow. Though I think her actual mum must be quite a few years younger than me.
Would it be too late for me to start now? Danny and I are just embarking on our lives together, still learning about each other. When would it be appropriate to introduce children into the mix? It’s not something that I’ve had to consider before. Are children even conducive to life on the canal? I’m sure some people must manage it. Yet I have to face the fact that my equipment might not even be fully functioning any more – like the poor old Maid of Merryweather, my insides might be desperately in need of attention and renovation. So much to think about.
The tree takes much longer to dress than I imagine. The original lights are long gone, but I replaced them several years ago with ones that are still in the retro spirit – tiny flowers in an array of colours which Danny has looped over the branches. Due to the sheer number of decorations that have been accumulated over the years, the tree is positively laden down with a random assortment of baubles and bits.
Yet when it’s all done the tree looks beautiful – all bright and colourful. There’s a selection of fragile glass Santas with fulsome painted beards and slightly freaky blue eyes, which are playing different orchestra instruments. In among them are colourful twists of foil in purple and orange. There are scarlet knee-hugging elves that must have adorned every Christmas tree in that era – I think they were Edie’s choice.
Finally, I pick the fairy out of her box. Her dress is rather raggy now and faded, her wings more than a little bent, the paint on her face fading. But this is one that Miranda made when she was a girl. Despite the fact that she was so terribly cruel to me in the end, I have a momentary rush of affection for the woman that she must have been before it went so sour. It’s this time of the year that makes you think about those loved ones who aren’t around any more. So I give the fairy a little hug and plant a kiss on her grubby plastic cheek.
‘Can you do the honours?’ I hand her to Danny.
He climbs the stepladder and places her gently on top, twisting one of the fairy lights so that she has a golden glow on her. That makes her look much better.
Finally, I stand back to admire it. Colourful, it certainly is. Tasteful, not so much.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Stan is yawning and say, ‘Come on, Stan. Time for your bed.’
‘Do you want me to take him home, Fay?’ Danny offers.
‘No, I’ll do it. Can you put the empty boxes back in the loft for me?’
‘Sure,’ he says.
‘I’ll text my dad to come and get me,’ Rainbow says. ‘This has been the BEST.’
Poor girl is saving up for driving lessons – God help us – so her dad is currently her private taxi service. He drops her off at the end of the lane every morning on his way to work and picks her up in the evening when she’s done. He seems to bear it all with good nature – according to Rainbow.
Danny whispers in my ear, ‘Are you staying with Stan tonight?’
‘I’ll see if he’s happy to manage by himself,’ I answer. The thought of spending a night in a proper bed rather than scrunched up on a lumpy sofa is quite appealing. Having Danny in the bed too is a definite bonus.
I take Stan’s arm and help him to his walking frame. ‘Night, night, everyone,’ he says. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
Swaddling him in his coat on the way, we head out into the cold night air. The sky is clear and bright, the stars sparkle like diamonds. We make our way slowly and gingerly along the path, Stan leaning heavily on his walking frame, me guiding his arm. ‘Take care where you step,’ I warn him. ‘I don’t want you to slip.’
We pause at the edge of the path and, on the breeze, I think I hear the light laugh of a young girl near to us. I stop short, strain
ing to see if I can spot anyone lurking in the garden in the darkness, but I can’t make out anyone.
‘Did you hear that?’
Stan nods and pats my arm. ‘No need to be afraid. It’s only Audrey.’
‘Your fiancée?’
‘Yes. She feels very close to me at the moment.’
‘Oh, Stan, you’ve made me shiver all over.’ Even the hairs on the back of my neck are prickling. I still myself to see if I can pick up the sound again, but everything’s as quiet as a churchyard.
‘Don’t be frightened, lovely. She’s a great comfort to me.’ He looks out into the garden too, towards the canal. ‘I can’t see her, not quite, but I know she’s here.’
I think I see a shadow shift in my peripheral vision, but when I turn there’s nothing there. Stan looks at the same spot and smiles softly.
‘I’m never alone when she’s near,’ he continues. ‘She still loves me. I’m young and vibrant in her eyes. Unchanged. She doesn’t see this crumbling body. I haven’t aged, as she hasn’t.’
‘Now you’re going to make me cry.’
Stan chuckles. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Fay. Whatever happens, I’ll be fine. I’ve lived my life, and enjoyed it all – you still have so much of yours ahead of you.’
‘I’m trying to embrace the new me,’ I tell him.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘And I don’t want to see you sleeping on my sofa tonight. You should be on The Dreamcatcher with that young man of yours.’
‘I was going to talk to you about that.’
‘There’s nothing more to be said,’ Stan insists. ‘You’ve got me through the worst. I’ll be fine by myself.’
‘Shall I still bring your breakfast in the morning or do you want to come into the café if you can bear the hustle and bustle?’
‘I love it,’ Stan says. ‘I’ve missed the company so much while I’ve been poorly. I like to think you all keep me young.’
I laugh. ‘That’s good to know. I think Rainbow makes me feel as old as the hills.’ I take his arm again, trying not to glance back as we leave the garden and continue to pick our way along the path to Stan’s front door. ‘Let’s get you inside. You have to be careful with that chest of yours.’
‘There’s still a bit of life left in me yet,’ he says with a twinkle in his eye.
‘I think that’s the mulled wine talking,’ I tease.
‘Ah, yes. You’re probably right,’ he agrees. ‘I do love it. My favourite.’
Chapter Seventeen
I pop back to the house to say goodnight to Lija. There’s no one in the kitchen, so I assume that Rainbow’s dad has come to collect her and Danny has gone back to the boat. I find Lija in the dining room setting up for tomorrow’s service, in darkness except for the glow of the Christmas tree lights.
Taking a plate from her, I say gently, ‘Stop that now. You’ve had a long day and you look tired.’
‘Am fine.’ She tugs the plate back.
‘Rainbow and I will do it in the morning.’
She puts the plate down, reluctantly conceding defeat. I open my arms and, with only a slight hesitation, she steps towards me, letting me hug her bony frame. ‘You’ll be all right?’
‘Sure.’
But something in me feels as if she wants me to stay. ‘Danny and I can move back in with you if you want.’
‘I don’t want.’
‘We’re only at the bottom of the garden. If you need me for anything, you only have to call.’
‘Please go now.’ She pushes away from me. ‘You are annoying.’
I sigh. ‘I’m only trying to help, Lija.’
‘You don’t think I am strong?’
‘Of course I do, but we’re here for you. There’s no need for you to struggle alone. I’m sorry that we left for so long.’
She shrugs. ‘You did what you had to do.’
‘And I’ve loved it,’ I admit. ‘But now we’re back.’
‘For how long? Days? Weeks? What?’ She scuffs her toe on the floor.
‘I don’t know. Certainly until after Christmas. Probably until Stan’s better and the weather’s improved. I’ll have to talk to Danny about it.’
I wonder if this is what the problem is. Does Lija want us to be here for longer? There’s a certain attraction about being settled again. An itinerant lifestyle is all very well, but it certainly is difficult to make plans for the future.
‘He’s going to go into Milton Keynes tomorrow to see if he can get work. We’ll know a bit more then. OK?’
She nods.
I kiss her cheek and she grimaces. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. First thing. If you’re tired, have a lie-in. I can organise everything in the kitchen.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Chin up,’ I say to her. ‘I know it’s exhausting – I’ve been there. But at least you’re busy. The phone never stops ringing and you’re having to turn people away. It’ll probably be as dead as a doornail after Christmas, so we’ve got to make hay while the sun shines.’
She looks at me, nonplussed. ‘I have no idea what you talk about. Sun, hay, whatever. Doornails. Speak fucking English.’
‘Go to bed,’ I insist. Then I turn her round and point her towards the stairs. ‘I’ll lock the back door after me.’
So she does what I say without arguing and I notice that her step is heavy as she climbs the stairs.
I lock up, as promised, collect a small box of Christmas decorations that I put aside to add a little festive sparkle to the boat, then go back down to The Dreamcatcher. Danny is sprawled out on the sofa and he’s poured me a glass of wine.
‘Another one?’ I stretch out on the sofa next to him and snuggle into his arms. ‘I won’t want to get up in the morning and I told Lija I’ll be in early.’ Nevertheless, I pick it up and drink.
‘Is she OK?’
I shake my head. ‘I think she’s worried about us leaving again.’ I cuddle in closer and he strokes my hair. ‘She did this for me – buying the house and everything.’ I resist the urge to emphasise EVERYTHING as Rainbow does. ‘Part of me feels bad that I’m not around for her now.’
‘We’ll work something out,’ Danny says. ‘But, you’re right, it’s late and we should go to bed. I’m too tired to do complex thinking.’
‘I need to Skype Edie,’ I tell him. ‘I haven’t contacted her for weeks.’ Danny doesn’t point out that she hasn’t taken the time to contact me either. ‘She doesn’t even know that we’re back here.’
‘It will only wind you up.’
‘I’ve had three glasses of wine – maybe more – I’m feeling quite mellow.’
He laughs. ‘Your sister will soon knock that out of you.’
‘Quite probably. I should see if she’s around though.’
Danny stands up. ‘I’ll take Diggery out for a constitutional while you call her. Come on, boy.’
The dog jumps up to join him and, together, they drop off the boat onto the canal path and head off into the darkness.
With a weary sigh, I pull the laptop towards me. At least we’ve got a decent signal here. I text Edie to see if she’s there and she is, so we both log on. Moments later, her face is on my screen. There’s a cigarette in one hand, not unusually, a large glass of wine in the other. Her gorgeous auburn hair is twisted up into an untidy knot and she’s not wearing any make-up – most unlike Edie. She’s wearing a black V-neck jumper that looks as if it might belong to Brandon.
‘Hello, stranger,’ is her opening gambit and, already, I feel a little of my goodwill towards her drain away.
My sister is what you might call ‘high-maintenance’. I do love her very much, but I quite often struggle to like her. Despite that, I miss her in my life. She’s my only living relative, joined by my dad’s blood, and I can’t let her go.
‘Hello, Edie. I know it’s been a while. I’m sorry about that.’
‘I’m sure you’ve been very busy,’ she says, crisply.
‘I have,’ I concede. ‘I w
anted to call you to let you know that we’re back at Canal House. For the time being. Stan was ill and I dashed back to look after him.’
‘Oh.’ That sort of takes the wind out of her sails. ‘That’s very noble of you. Ever the good Samaritan, Fay? Eh?’ I don’t acknowledge my sister’s slight or rise to the bait, so Edie adds, ‘He’s OK now?’
‘On the mend. Thankfully. It was touch and go. Pneumonia.’
‘Not good in someone Stan’s age.’
‘No. I think he’ll be all right, though. He’s a bit more frail, a little more unsteady on his feet, but managing.’
A siren wails. The sounds of New York city are a backdrop to our call.
‘Are you staying in the house?’ She looks understandably sheepish when she asks.
‘I slept on Stan’s sofa while he was poorly, but Danny’s just got back so we’re both on The Dreamcatcher now.’
‘Still head over heels in love?’ She sounds slightly bitter.
‘Yes.’ I’m not going to lie to make her feel better. ‘What about you? How are things with Brandon?’ Edie circles the periphery of his life hoping for crumbs of his affection, but I generally keep that opinion to myself for the sake of peace.
‘No change,’ she admits. I largely blame the pallor of her skin, the permanent dark shadows under her eyes on Brandon’s inability to commit to his marriage or to Edie. Not that I absolve her though. She’s a grown-up and can make her own choices. She’s the one who chooses to wait on the whims of a married man. ‘I’m a bit bored, if I’m honest. I should get a job or something.’
I know from Edie’s track record in recent times that she probably won’t. I just hope she won’t burn through the money she got from the sale of the house. I thought it might put her in a better position, but it seems to have made no difference. Whatever Edie has earned, she’s always spent it – and more. She wanted a Kardashian lifestyle on a minion’s money. Now she has a lot of money in the bank yet still no focus in life. How sad.
‘I thought it would be fun having money,’ she says, ‘but all my friends are at work. The days are quite long by myself. I’m even tired of shopping.’
Christmas Cakes and Mistletoe Nights Page 9