Christmas Cakes and Mistletoe Nights

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Morning!’ I strip off my coat and welly boots.

  ‘Morning,’ Lija grumbles back.

  ‘You two must have been here since dawn.’

  They shoot a look between them that I can’t quite fathom but, before I can question it, Rainbow says, ‘OMG! I was going to put my bridesmaid’s dress on and EVERYTHING today. I SOOOOOO can’t wait to wear it. I’ve only got this on because my nana HID it.’ She has on a short green dress and red and white striped tights that makes her look like an elf.

  ‘The wedding will be here soon enough,’ I say.

  ‘What wedding?’

  I turn at the sound of Edie’s voice. She’s standing in the doorway looking cold and tired. I get a whirr of emotions when I see her but can’t really decide whether the overriding one is happiness or sadness.

  ‘My wedding,’ I tell her.

  ‘Oh, Fay.’ My sister comes to me with her arms open and I stand to be embraced. I accept the hug stiffly but, when I hear her crying, I relent and hold her tightly. Thin at the best of times, there’s really nothing of her. I can feel the outline of her bones under my hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobs. ‘So sorry.’

  ‘Go into living room,’ Lija instructs. ‘I don’t want you crying on sponge cake.’

  Doing as I’m told, I shepherd Edie into the front room. It’s cold in here away from the warmth of the kitchen and Lija doesn’t light a fire until the evening, but we sit on the sofa together.

  ‘I’ve been such a fool,’ she says. ‘How am I ever going to make it up to you?’

  I can think of one very easy way, but that’s not going to happen now. The money is gone. I don’t even ask how Brandon’s ‘investment’ is going or whether they are back in touch. Instead, I say, ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I’m staying at a place in Milton Keynes. Airbnb. It’s OK. Cheap.’

  ‘You’re still planning to stay round here permanently?’

  Edie nods. ‘I’ve nowhere else to go.’

  It pains me to see her sunk so low. ‘Have you got a job yet?’

  ‘I’ve applied for a few, but there’s not much about now. Everyone’s too wrapped up in their Christmas parties to worry about hiring staff. I’ll start properly in the new year.’ She cries again. Softly, sadly. ‘All this has knocked my confidence, Fay. I can’t even begin to tell you.’

  I pat her gently. ‘Hush, hush.’

  ‘I’ve been so horrible to you. How can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘I’m your sister,’ I tell her. ‘Whatever happens, we’re bound by blood. Even when I don’t like you, I still love you. Just about, sometimes.’ She risks a smile at that. ‘Of course, I forgive you.’

  ‘I’m so pleased that you’re getting married. Danny is wonderful. You’re so very lucky to have found him.’

  I think that every day but I’m not going to share my thoughts with Edie. Not now.

  My sister wipes her eyes. ‘When is it?’

  ‘Christmas Eve.’

  She looks up in surprise at that. ‘So soon? I don’t suppose you were even going to invite me?’

  ‘In all honesty, I hadn’t decided,’ I admit. ‘I didn’t know where you were either.’

  ‘Though you do have my phone number,’ she says a little more tartly.

  ‘And you mine,’ I counter.

  ‘Let’s not fight,’ she says, wearily. ‘I’m worn out. I haven’t slept properly since I left here.’

  ‘You’re not eating, either.’

  ‘I don’t really have anywhere to cook in my room, so I’ve been living on sandwiches and fruit.’

  ‘Oh, Edie.’ My sister might drive me mad and this situation may be of her own making, but I think what Dad would say if I turned my back on her now. ‘You have to come back to The Dreamcatcher.’

  ‘No,’ she says. ‘If you and Danny are newly married, you’ll want your own space.’

  I remember how badly her brief stay worked out before. My sister isn’t the easiest of house guests. As a narrowboat guest, she was a nightmare.

  ‘Do you think Lija would let me stay in the spare room?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ll pay her,’ Edie says. ‘The same as I do at the Airbnb. It’s not much but it might help.’

  ‘The room’s in a terrible state after the flood. I was only thinking about it last night. It needs a lot of work to bring it back up to scratch.’

  ‘Talk to her,’ Edie begs. ‘We could clear the room up together, you and me, couldn’t we? You can persuade her. She listens to you. I won’t be any trouble. I promise. She’ll hardly know that I’m here. I’ve learned my lesson, Fay.’

  How I wish I could believe it, though, I have to say, she seems more sincere this time. But I remind myself that I have been burned before. Yet, what do I do? The thought of Edie alone and friendless is too awful to contemplate. It’s Christmas. How can I be hard-hearted enough to turn my back on her?

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Eventually, my good nature wins over. I can’t be Scrooge at Christmas. I have to see if Lija will be kind enough to take my sister in. ‘Stay here,’ I say to Edie. ‘I’ll talk to Lija.’

  Heart in my mouth, I walk back into the kitchen. Lija is at the cooker, stirring something furiously in a pot.

  ‘Lija—’ I venture.

  ‘No,’ she says without turning round. ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you yet.’ Now she spins. ‘If it involves Sister from Hell, no.’

  ‘She’s in a dreadful state,’ I persist. ‘I’m worried about her.’ Lija holds up a hand to shush me. ‘She’s living in a bed and breakfast place. It’s horrible.’

  ‘Tough titty.’

  Rainbow comes into the kitchen, quickly spins round again and disappears. Rainbow likes all the world to be fluffy and pink. She hates confrontation of any kind.

  ‘I thought we could salvage the spare room. She can pay you what she pays there. It’s thirty quid a night. Thirty quid. That would come in very handy, at the moment.’ I’m sure I see Lija waver, so I press on. ‘I could do with a few hours off before the wedding to organise bits and bobs. Edie could cover my shifts. She’ll look for work in the new year, but this could tide her over.’

  ‘She is evil cow.’ Lija doesn’t mince her words. ‘How many times will you let her do this, Fay?’

  ‘She’s my sister.’

  ‘She makes fool of you!’

  ‘I know. I know. But this will be the very last time.’

  Lija glowers at me. ‘You say that last very last time.’

  ‘That’s fine. I completely understand where you’re coming from.’ Tears prickle my eyes. I only have so much fight in me and Lija is resolute. ‘I’ll ask her to leave.’

  ‘Do not always be so flipping reasonable,’ Lija snaps. ‘She can stay. OK?’

  ‘Really?’ She tuts her displeasure at me. ‘Thank you, Lija. Thank you. I do appreciate it.’ I give her a hug and she stands rigid. ‘You won’t even know she’s here.’

  Lija rolls her eyes.

  ‘We’ll go up now and look at what needs doing in the bedroom, then Edie can make a start on it. I’ll be down to help you with prep as soon as I can.’

  ‘We have all day,’ Lija says sarcastically. ‘Take your time.’

  ‘I’d like to echo what Fay said.’ Edie, standing at the door, has heard it all. ‘Thank you, Lija.’

  ‘If you do one thing to hurt my friend, you will have me to answer to.’ Lija waves the wooden spoon in her hand quite menacingly. ‘If you were my sister, you would be on flipping bike, take a hike. She is too good to you.’

  ‘I know.’ Edie hangs her head, cowed. ‘I do appreciate it.’

  ‘We’ll go to look at the room.’ Quickly, I hustle Edie out of the kitchen and rush her up the stairs before Lija can change her mind.

  When I open the door to the spare room, the musty smell of damp hits us.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Edie says. ‘It smells like someone died in here.’
/>   ‘I told you it was bad.’ It was bad and, since I last looked a couple of weeks ago, it’s got considerably worse. Edie’s childhood bedroom is unrecognisable. The wallpaper is peeling off the wall. It hangs down in great, drooping swathes. The paint all over the ceiling has blistered and bubbled. The carpet is all mildewed. The buckets we’ve placed round the room have clearly failed to catch all of the rainfall. If the rest of the house was like this, it would be condemned. Once again, I feel terrible that Lija is in this situation. She bought the house to help me out, but I think she’s taken on so much more than she imagined. I knew the house needed a lot of work, but now I feel it’s crumbling around our ears at an accelerated pace. Plus I still believe it’s my responsibility to put it right.

  Lija will want this bedroom when the baby is born. It would make a great nursery. It’s a light, airy space and has a wonderful view over the garden. There’s room for a decent-sized cot and a rocking chair. Perhaps Danny and I will treat her to one. We’ll have to scour the second-hand shops. I can just picture it and get a little thrill thinking about what’s to come. Then I have a reality check and simply add it to the long list of Things To Do After Christmas. Sigh. I turn my attention back to my sister.

  ‘You can’t stay in here,’ I say, stating the obvious. ‘You’ll get double pneumonia or worse. Let’s have a look at the other room. I’m sure Lija won’t mind.’ I’m not entirely sure at all, but having pushed Lija so far, I think she’ll capitulate.

  We check the room that was my old bedroom. This has, indeed, fared much better. It smells a bit fusty and there are a few buckets which were put in there to catch drips that are nearly full to the top with water, but it’s certainly not as bad as the other room. It’s habitable, at least. If it were a warmer day, I’d throw open the window, but it’s freezing out there, so I’ll bring up a fan heater instead and hope to take the chill from it that way. I should have stripped the bed in here, but we’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance. It will need a damn good clean, and dry bedding too, but there’s plenty of spare sheets in the airing cupboard.

  Edie walks over to the window and looks out. ‘It’s beautiful out there,’ she says. ‘All the time I lived here, I never really appreciated it.’

  I go and stand next to her. The day is faded grey, the trees like shadows. There’s a shroud of mist hovering low on the water but, before we know it, spring will return and the trees and hedges by the canal will be bursting with fat, green buds and unruly leaves.

  ‘I always loved this house.’ I look round my old bedroom with its sprigged rose wallpaper that’s so terribly out of date and its polyester green curtains and still miss it like crazy.

  ‘I was mad to let this go, wasn’t I?’ Edie turns to me, eyes filled with tears. ‘This was our childhood home. We were happy here.’

  ‘We were,’ I agree.

  ‘Why didn’t you stop me from selling it?’ she says.

  ‘If you remember rightly, Edie, you were absolutely determined – desperate – to get rid of this place. You didn’t even consult me before you put it up for sale.’

  She rubs her face with her hands. ‘God. What an idiot I’ve been.’

  ‘It’s too late for that now,’ I say. ‘We have to make the best of what we’ve got. Do you want to move back in here or not?’

  ‘As Lija’s paying lodger?’

  ‘If you’ve got another option in mind, then just let me know.’

  ‘No,’ she admits. ‘There’s no plan B. I’m sure I’d be much happier here than where I am now.’

  ‘It’s a good, solid room,’ I point out. ‘You have your own bathroom. There’s nothing that a good clean and freshen up won’t put right. We can probably move the buckets now. It’ll only be a problem if it starts raining cats and dogs again.’

  ‘That’s reassuring,’ she says, wryly.

  ‘I’ll get you the cleaning stuff and you can set to.’

  She casts a horrified glance at her perfect manicure and I hide a smile. I’m not sure that Edie has experienced hard physical work in a long time. ‘We have rubber gloves,’ I point out. ‘It won’t kill you. If you want to stay here, you’re going to have to swallow your pride and muck in.’

  She looks bleakly at me. ‘It just feels as if I’m right back where I started.’

  ‘Then use it to turn over a new leaf, Edie.’

  ‘I will,’ she says. And she looks as earnest as I’ve ever seen her.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  While Rainbow, Lija and I are busy downstairs serving customers, Edie starts to clean up my old bedroom. She takes a bucket of soapy water, some polish and a pile of dusters plus the all-important rubber gloves. Pink ones, so that cheers her up a bit.

  We’re run off our feet all morning, so I don’t get a chance to pop up and see how she’s doing. At lunchtime, when we’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and eating a quick sandwich from a tray of leftovers, Edie reappears. There’s no designer gear in evidence and she’s obviously helped herself to a pair of my old jeans and a T-shirt from the wardrobe up there which swamp her frail frame, making her look much younger than her years. She’s snatched her hair back in a scrunchie but most of it is escaping and sticking to her face which has a rarely spotted sheen of sweat. There’s a rosy glow to her cheeks which has been missing for a long time.

  ‘This is better than a workout,’ she puffs, then empties her bucket into the sink. ‘To think I used to pay thousands for a high-end gym.’

  Behind her back Lija makes a stabbing motion with a butter knife and I bite my lip so that I don’t smile.

  ‘Have you changed the bed yet?’ I ask.

  Edie pushes back a few strands of hair with her forearm. ‘Next job.’

  ‘I’ll come up and help you.’

  So I abandon my sandwich and follow her upstairs. Already the room is fresher, cleaner. She’s thrown the window open, despite the cold, and it’s given it the good airing it needed.

  ‘You’ve done a great job,’ I say, impressed by her endeavours. For someone unaccustomed to cleaning she’s really embraced it.

  Together we pull back the fusty sheets and strip the bed. ‘I think we should let this mattress air for as long as we can. When you close the windows, leave the fan heater on then we can make it up this evening.’

  ‘Good idea. I think I’m done in here,’ she says. ‘I’ve cleaned the bathroom too.’ She looks quite proud of herself. ‘Do you need any help in the café?’

  ‘I think we’re on top of things.’

  ‘I could make a start on the spare room, if you like. I know the roof needs repairing, but I could take the bedding off and take the curtains down. I could even strip the wallpaper.’

  Is this really Edie I see before me?

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she says, snippily. ‘But I’m not completely useless.’

  ‘We’re going to need to use that room sooner rather than later. We’ll check with Lija, but I can’t see why not.’

  So, that same evening, Edie moves into my old bedroom. She goes to collect her stuff from the bed and breakfast accommodation which, by Edie’s standards, is not that much. Thank goodness. I help her to settle in and she looks small and forlorn. My heart goes out to her.

  ‘You can come to The Dreamcatcher and eat with us tonight, if you like,’ I say.

  Edie shakes her head. ‘You and Danny don’t want me under your feet all the time. I bought a few bits at the supermarket and Lija has cleared me a shelf in the fridge. I’ve got to start to be self-sufficient.’

  I have a moment where I could weep when I think of all that Edie has squandered. But it’s no good crying over spilt milk, as they say.

  When she’s unpacked, I hug her tightly. ‘Goodnight, Edie.’

  ‘Thanks, Fay,’ she says. ‘I won’t be a shit this time. I swear.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that.’ Then I leave her and go in search of Lija who I find sitting on the sofa with her feet up on the pouffe, eating cheese on toa
st. She’s in the dark apart from the twinkling Christmas tree lights.

  ‘It looks lovely in here.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I flop down next to her and, when I’m close, I can tell that she looks weary. I also notice that the previously tiny bump beneath her loose top is starting to burgeon. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘OK,’ she says. ‘Tired. Fat.’

  ‘Edie’s done a good job,’ I tell her. ‘She’s trying to be helpful.’

  ‘She is very trying,’ Lija agrees.

  I laugh. ‘I think this time it might be different.’

  ‘Do not count your horses before your chickens,’ Lija observes.

  I don’t bother to correct her. ‘I won’t. When she’s cleared out that small bedroom we can look at what needs doing. Danny says that he’ll get on the roof and see if it can be patched.’

  ‘There is good money coming into the café.’ She looks relieved at that. ‘Maybe there is some to spare for repairs.’

  ‘We’ll help you where we can. You know that.’

  Instead of pushing me away as she normally would, she smiles and says, ‘Thank you.’

  I slip my arm through hers and we watch the twinkling of the Christmas tree lights. ‘Even though it’s only a few days away, I’m still not sure that I feel Christmassy yet.’

  ‘Am bloody sure I don’t,’ Lija notes. ‘I hate Christmas.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ I tell her. ‘Just think how much fun it will be next year when we have a baby in the house.’

  Lija makes a snorting noise. I’m not sure that she’s sharing my joy.

  ‘The wedding will be here soon.’ I squeeze her arm in excitement.

  ‘I know.’ Lija sounds less thrilled.

  ‘It’s been so mad busy that I haven’t really had the time to think about it.’ But now I get a little buzz of excitement.

  ‘Stay here night before,’ Lija says. ‘Is bad luck for groom to see bride or some shit. We can have drinks, hen party.’ She shrugs. ‘I do not know about these things. Shall we let Rainbow organise?’