Christmas Cakes and Mistletoe Nights

by Carole Matthews

  She puts down the knife she’s holding, quite emphatically, and turns to me. ‘I am not keeping baby.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I. Am. Not. Keeping. Baby.’

  ‘Why? Why?’ I feel as if she’s knocked the stuffing out of me. ‘Look, I know it’s scary, Lija, but we can do it. Together. You won’t be on your own.’

  ‘Is my responsibility,’ she says, tightly. ‘No one else’s.’

  ‘I know that. Of course I do. You were so determined that you were going to keep the baby. What’s changed?’

  ‘This.’ She looks round her. ‘All this. I can hardly manage now. How will I cope with child on hip?’

  ‘We’ll all muck in.’

  ‘Muck in?’ She looks at me disdainfully.

  ‘It means that we’ll all pull together.’

  ‘I know meaning. This is not problem. What when you go home to The Dreamcatcher? Who will “muck in” then? I will be alone. This is problem. What if you decide you might like to wander off again?’

  ‘We won’t. I promise. Danny has already said that he’d even look for a job in the City if we need the money.’

  ‘Money,’ she snorts. ‘Don’t even get me started on money. Is all pay, pay, pay. How will I have money for child?’

  ‘This must seem insurmountable, but it isn’t. We’ll be your family. We’ll be here for you. Danny is fully on board.’

  ‘Now,’ she snorts. ‘What about down the road? When do you want your own life back? When child is one, two? Sooner than that?’

  ‘We want to be involved. It will be lovely to have a child here.’

  ‘I must do this alone or not at all. You saying nice things is not solution.’

  ‘This is probably your hormones. You’ll be in turmoil at the moment. It’s no wonder that you feel vulnerable. If you won’t listen to me, I urge you to go to the doctor and talk it through.’

  ‘No.’

  I go to speak again, but she puts her hand up to stop me.

  ‘My mind is made up.’ She snatches her knife again. ‘Make sandwiches. This is your job. Not babysitter. Not nurse.’

  ‘Think about it, carefully,’ I beg. ‘Don’t rush into this, Lija. Take your time.’

  ‘I do not have time.’ She looks down at the tiny bump that’s forming. She had a doctor’s appointment booked this week which she cancelled, citing being too busy to take time away from the café. Now I wonder if it was something else. ‘I have had many sleepless nights since flood. It was stupid to think I could be mother. I am stupid girl, in stupid situation. My decision is made.’

  With that she resumes chopping, ferociously, and I can think of nothing that I can say to persuade her otherwise.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The alarm goes off and I reach out in the darkness to find it and shut it up. Beside me, Danny groans.

  ‘It can’t be morning yet,’ he complains.

  It’s five o’clock and I risk a peek out of the window. There’s a full moon and I can see that it’s another hard frost outside. This winter is shaping up to be one of the coldest we’ve had for years and I’m grateful that we’ve actually got central heating on The Dreamcatcher, albeit a bit patchy in its efficiency. I nestle deeper into the duvet.

  ‘Let’s not go to work today,’ I murmur. ‘Let’s stay here and make love all day.’

  ‘Sounds very tempting.’ Danny snuggles in closer. ‘But we’ve had the credit card bill in for the dehumidifier and we don’t have enough cash in the bank to pay for it.’

  The noisy thing has gone back to the hire company now and it was worth every penny as it dried out the house a treat – at a cost though.

  ‘Besides,’ he adds, ‘my boss might get a bit funny if I start to take duvet days.’

  ‘I’d rather face your boss than Lija with a cake fork.’

  ‘She’s still no better?’

  ‘No. Like a bear with a sore head. And a sore paw. And a sore EVERYTHING, as Rainbow would say. Lija’s still absolutely adamant that she can’t keep the baby, but she’s very tight-lipped on the subject. I can’t get her to open up to me at all. There’s an appointment on the wall calendar for next week, but she hasn’t told me what it’s for. I’m dreading the worst.’

  ‘You think it’s for an abortion?’

  ‘I hope not.’ My heart is heavy when I think about it. ‘I’ll go with her, obviously. If that’s what she wants, I’ll support her. But I wish she’d trust us to be there for her.’

  ‘Would you, in her situation? What if something happens to us? She’ll be left, literally, holding the baby.’

  ‘You think she’s doing the right thing?’

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Though I can understand why she feels like that.’

  ‘Why is life always so difficult?’ I mutter.

  Danny holds me tight. ‘I’ll bring you a cuppa in bed. That’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘Ah, tea,’ I say. ‘The universal cure for all ills.’

  Reluctantly, he eases away from me and slides out of bed. Diggery instantly moves into his place, clearly relishing the warm spot.

  Danny slips on his jeans and runs a hand through his hair. Working at the boatyard is dirty work and he’s taken to having his shower when he comes home as the luxury of two showers a day is too hard on our water consumption.

  I love to hear the sound of him pottering about in the galley and I lie there drifting in and out of sleep as he does. He brings me my tea back.

  ‘It’s really icy out there. The canal is frozen over. I’m glad we’re not moving the boat at the moment. I’m not sure we’d even get out. We were lucky that we took the Maid to the yard yesterday.’ Danny strokes my hair, tenderly. ‘Be careful when you walk up the garden or on the towpath. It’ll be treacherous underfoot.’

  ‘You be careful too.’

  He leans over and kisses me, his lips lingering. He pulls away with a reluctant sigh. ‘I’d better go. There are boats to be stripped down, engines to be fiddled with.’ He clicks his fingers at the dog. ‘Are you coming too, boy?’

  Diggery whimpers slightly as he leaves the warmth of the bed, but as soon as he drops to Danny’s feet he’s keen to get going.

  ‘I’ll stay late again tonight,’ he says. ‘Are you OK with that?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll hang about at the house and keep Lija company. I don’t like her to be by herself at the moment. When she’s on her own, she’s got too much time to think. That’s a big house to rattle round in too.’ I should know.

  ‘The minute we’ve got Christmas out of the way and some money in the bank, I’ll look at doing some repairs for her. That roof definitely needs attention sooner rather than later. If it snows, we’re stuffed.’

  ‘I love you,’ I tell him.

  ‘Love you too,’ he says. ‘Don’t go falling back to sleep or Lija will have your guts for garters.’

  I manage to rouse myself and stand in the shower, letting the hot water revive me. A few spots of scarlet blood in the water tell me that I’ve started my period and I am crushed with disappointment. I know it’s silly of me, but after our night of passion where Danny and I were a little bit reckless, I had secretly hoped that we might have made a baby. I harboured the feeling that I had. Looks as if it’s not to be. Anyway, at my great age, an absence of periods is probably more likely to signify the onset of menopause rather than a pregnancy.

  Still, I shake myself down and tell myself there’s no good brooding on it. You have to work with the cards that life deals you. I’m in love and have someone who loves me. I never thought I’d even have that not too long ago.

  We’ve a lot to do today and I’m in the kitchen at the house for seven o’clock. Lija is already there, the oven up and running. The scent of vanilla is comforting on this cold day.

  ‘Brrr,’ I say as I close the door behind me. ‘You don’t want to be venturing out in that today. The Dreamcatcher is completely frozen in and the veranda’s like a skating rink.’ I pull off my coat and throw it on the hook. �
��You’re an early bird.’

  ‘No sleep,’ she says wearily.

  Tentatively, I put my arms round her and she doesn’t shrug me off. ‘You look knackered. Take it easy today. Let me and Rainbow do the running around.’

  ‘I can manage.’

  ‘You don’t have to. We’re here. You don’t get any extra points for being superwoman.’ She sags slightly in my arms and I take that as compliance. ‘Let’s sit and take five together. We don’t do that much any more. I’ll make us some tea and toast.’

  She sits without further protest and I make the promised breakfast. We sit and eat together, but there’s not much chat. Lija looks as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and I wonder if she’s thinking of the looming date on the calendar. I don’t have the courage to raise the subject. I’m worried she’ll think that I’m nagging her and will clam up even more. I’ll just gently support her today even though she seems hell-bent on dealing with this alone.

  Unusually, Rainbow is late to work. It’s gone nine when she bursts through the door. ‘OMG! Sorry I’m late. Flipping TRAFFIC! There are cars ALL OVER the place.’ She does some sort of mad gesture with her hands. ‘In ditches, hedges, fields and EVERYTHING. My dad skidded and slithered all the way here. He says people forget how to drive when there’s ice on the road. I’ve never heard such LANGUAGE! I didn’t know that my dad knew so many bad words. It took FOR EVER.’ She pulls off a beanie hat and shakes the exuberance back into her curls. ‘Still, I got here. PHEW! My nan says that in the olden days, when she was a girl, people used to skate on canals and whatever. MEGA! I bet we could skate on the canal today if we had any skates or something. COOL!’

  She throws her coat and hat at the hooks and, miraculously, they land perfectly. She whips up her apron, ties it on and shouts, ‘Rainbow Hesketh ready for business!’

  That makes us both laugh.

  ‘What?’ She looks bemused.

  ‘You never fail to cheer this place up,’ I tell her.

  ‘My nan says I have to be careful because I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.’

  ‘Well, you’re certainly ours.’

  ‘COOL.’ She beams at us. ‘What shall I start on?’ she asks, ever willing. ‘Sandwiches, cakes, whatever.’

  Lija had tried out a recipe for stollen muffins bursting with diced marzipan, toasted almonds, sultanas, pistachio nuts and dried cherries – giving the classic German bake a contemporary twist. They were a big hit, so we’re baking those again and they come out of the oven smelling of cinnamon and festive wonderfulness.

  I make half a dozen chocolate logs, filled with dulce de leche, double cream and ginger, drizzled with white chocolate, decorated with sugar paste holly leaves. One calorie-laden cake that definitely goes straight to the waistline. But it’s Christmas. Dieting is for January.

  ‘I should start on the savouries,’ Lija says, pushing herself away from the table. On the menu today are smoked salmon sandwiches with cream cheese studded with capers and sharpened with lemon zest, plus the usual turkey and cranberry with home-made clementine and fig stuffing. For the vegetarians we’re trying chestnut and cranberry falafels with grated red cabbage and coriander in little wholemeal pitta pockets. Lija is making mini chicken and ham pies with chopped apricots and sage. No wonder our customers keep coming back for more.

  She sighs. ‘Another busy day ahead.’

  I pat her hand. ‘We’ll get through it.’

  Before we know it, the doors are open, our customers are arriving and it’s all hands to the pump. The pies, sandwiches and cakes go out, the empty plates come back in a never-ending blur. It’s six o’clock again by the time we draw breath and it’s dark outside. The temperature hasn’t hovered much above freezing all day and I do hope the ancient boiler keeps going all winter as the last thing we need is another unexpected big bill.

  Rainbow is tidying up in the dining room now that the last of the customers has gone and, by some miracle, she’s still bouncy and singing. Lija and I less so. I’m clearing up in the kitchen. My legs are aching, my feet throbbing. I don’t think I’ve sat down since first thing. Neither has Lija, when it was my intention for her to take things easy. She looks dog tired, but we’re very nearly done for the day. My brain is foggy from lack of tea and food in general. Despite our busy kitchen laden with food, I haven’t even had time for a snatched sarnie.

  Lija is sitting at the table, making a list for tomorrow so that we’re ready for the onslaught again. As Christmas creeps ever closer, this isn’t going to become any easier. I was hoping to get myself organised, but I think I’ll do it all in a last-minute blast. It will probably work just as well.

  ‘We’re low on butter,’ I tell her. ‘I used up the last scrapings earlier.’

  ‘Is plenty in the garage freezer,’ she says.

  ‘I’ll go and get some.’ I put down my J-cloth.

  ‘I will go.’

  ‘Check what else we’re low on. We might need another run to Costco before Christmas.’ As we’re so busy, we’re using up our store cupboard supplies at a rate of knots. ‘Shall I come with you?’

  The Look. ‘I. Can. Manage.’

  ‘OK. OK.’ I grin at her. ‘Ms Independent.’

  She finishes her list, slips on her coat and heads towards the door.

  I look down at her ballet pumps. ‘You’ll need your boots on.’

  ‘Am going to garage, not up mountain.’

  ‘It’s slippy out there.’

  ‘Whatever,’ she throws over her shoulder.

  ‘Be careful!’

  I watch her slide as she steps onto the veranda and shake my head. Sometimes, that girl just won’t be told. She rights herself and marches off towards the garage, head down, skinny arms pulling her coat around her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I’m just turning back to my task when I hear a scream. She’s fallen. Of course she has. I mutter a curse, and, not taking my own advice, rush outside, slithering as I go. At the end of the path, Lija is lying on the ground, holding her back.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Is stupid question,’ she barks. ‘I am on floor!’

  ‘I mean are you hurting anywhere?’ I put my arms out to help her up and she grabs onto me, but winces in pain. ‘Did you go down heavily?’

  She nods, tears in her eyes. ‘I didn’t see ice in dark.’

  ‘Can you hold on to me?’

  Lija takes hold of my arms and, between us, we manage to get her upright again. Sort of. She’s bent over double, hands on her lower back.

  ‘You’ll probably have some nasty bruises tomorrow. Can you walk?’

  I take her weight on my shoulder and Lija puts one foot in front of the other, but it’s clear that it’s a huge effort. She’s limping badly, but I don’t think it’s her ankle. The pain seems to be radiating from her back which must have taken the brunt of the fall.

  ‘Fuckfuckfuck,’ she chunters under her breath as we make our way back to the kitchen. I don’t think this is the moment to encourage her to say ‘Flipflipflip’ instead.

  ‘Rainbow!’ I shout as we get back indoors. She comes running.

  ‘OMG! What happened?’

  ‘She’s had a fall,’ I say, tightly. ‘Pull a chair out and help me to get her coat off.’

  Rainbow does as she’s told without fuss. Together we strip off Lija’s coat and try to help her towards a chair.

  Lija pushes us off her. ‘I am fine. I am fine.’

  ‘I don’t think you are,’ Rainbow says, softly. ‘You’re bleeding.’

  Sure enough, there’s an alarmingly large bloodstain on the back of Lija’s jeans. It’s seeped through to her coat too, which I’d missed as, like most of Lija’s wardrobe, it’s black. My heart jumps to my mouth. The baby.

  ‘Call an ambulance,’ I tell Rainbow.

  Lija opens her mouth.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ I instruct and she stays silent. ‘You’re going to hospital. Like it or not.’

  Rainb
ow talks into her phone and then hangs up. ‘Done. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. Weather permitting.’

  That’s good news, but it’s still going to feel like the longest fifteen minutes of my life.

  We sit Lija down and I cuddle her. ‘Hang on. They’ll be with you soon.’

  ‘I should go to bathroom and clean myself.’

  ‘I don’t want you tackling the stairs in case it makes things worse. Can you hold on?’

  She nods and then sits grim-faced until we hear the sound of the ambulance coming down the lane, which isn’t fifteen minutes, it’s over an hour.

  Eventually, when Rainbow has made two further phone calls stressing that we have an emergency, a couple of cheery women paramedics arrive, moan about the weather and then examine Lija all over.

  ‘You’ve had a nasty tumble there, love,’ one of them says. ‘We’d best take you in. You can get checked over properly then.’

  Lija doesn’t protest when they bring a wheelchair and gently help her into it. I wrap my coat round her shoulders then grab my old gardening fleece from the hook and wear that myself.

  ‘Can you lock up after us, Rainbow? I’m going to go with her.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about nothing. I’m on the case. I’ll take Stan his tea too and tell him what’s happened.’

  ‘Thank you. You’re a love.’

  ‘No worries. Hope everything’s going to be OK.’ Even Rainbow’s usually sunny face is wearing a grim expression.

  ‘I’m sure it will be.’ But I’m not sure at all.

  So they put Lija into the ambulance and I climb in beside her. As we set off, she clutches my hand.

  ‘I do not want to lose my baby,’ she weeps. ‘Do not let them take my baby.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘It’ll all be absolutely fine.’

  And, bumping down the lane, feeling every jolt as if it’s magnified a million times, we head off to the hospital.

  Chapter Thirty-Four