by Janey Fraser
‘I have family coming over,’ she had replied on the spur of the moment.
The old woman’s face had creased with curiosity. ‘I did not know you had any!’
Marie-France had shrugged, enjoying the look on the neighbour’s face. ‘They are English,’ she could not resist adding.
‘Anglais? Mon Dieu! I shall look forward to seeing them.’ And with that, she bustled off, no doubt to tell everyone.
Within a few hours, Marie-France was being approached by friends who wanted to know about these surprise relatives who had turned up out of the blue.
‘What have you done now?’ her mother had demanded when word reached her, as was inevitable around here. ‘I do not want people to know our business.’
‘Maman,’ she’d said, ‘it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were a young girl who had a baby. It’s not a crime. Times have changed.’
Her mother had laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not here, they haven’t.’
Her words made Marie-France uneasy but it was too late. She’d already emailed Jeremy and Jilly and then Angela had called to ask if she could come as well. And now, here they all were, at the airport, waving and smiling!
‘Merde,’ muttered her mother under her breath. ‘I only hope you know what you have let us in for.’
SURVEY BY CHARISMA MAGAZINE
One in eight people spend Christmas alone.
Chapter 43
‘WHAT ARE YOU going to do for Christmas?’ asked Margaret wistfully back in Corrywood. Matthew had been trying not to think about it. The twenty-fifth of December was one of those really difficult times, like Mother’s Day, when Sally’s memory – never far away – loomed up in big print. Even though things had got so much better in the last few weeks with his new job, it was all still so raw.
‘I’m not sure. It’s not as though we’ve got any family to invite.’
‘Nor me.’ Her eye fell on the pile of Christmas cards he was opening in the kitchen where they were having a cup of tea. ‘Got a lot, have you?’
There was a touch of envy in her voice. She was still lonely! Even though she was looking after them, Margaret also needed someone to take care of her. She’d only been in their lives for a short time but already it felt as though he had known her for ever. He couldn’t thank her enough for that. She was the grandmotherly figure that Lottie so desperately needed.
Now he picked up one of the cards to show her. ‘This one’s from Sozzy’s parents.’
‘Your Bulgarian au pair? The one who…’
He nodded as her sentence tailed away. ‘They say they are thinking of me at this time.’
‘That’s kind.’
‘I should have sent them one.’ He could have kicked himself. ‘I’ll have to see them at the trial. I’m being called as a witness because I was the last person known to have seen her before the attack.’
Margaret shot him a sympathetic look. ‘Poor you. And poor them. Listen, I was thinking. Would you and Lottie like to come to me for Christmas lunch?’
Christmas lunch? A meal that was usually shared with close family or friends? Yet isn’t that what the three of them had become? He couldn’t imagine life now without Margaret popping in and out with a Victoria sponge she had just made or him going over to help her sort out her dodgy boiler.
‘That would be lovely,’ he began, but then stopped as Lottie tore into the room, plaits flapping.
‘DAD! DAD! There’s this really cool advert on television for Disneyland in Paris. Can we go. Please! Pretty please!’
‘I don’t think so,’ began Matthew but then as he looked first at his daughter’s face and then at Margaret’s crestfallen one, he had an idea. Why not? He was earning enough from his new job, wasn’t he? And hadn’t Christina subtly suggested during one of their many coffees, that it was a good idea to start new traditions when you were coping with change?
‘Margaret …’ he said, hoping he was doing the right thing without talking to Lottie first. Then again, she really liked the older woman who had stepped in as a mother’s help. He often found the two of them cuddling up or baking cakes. ‘I was just wondering. Have you ever been to France?’
JILLY’S AU PAIR AGENCY: GUIDELINES FOR FAMILIES
Christmas can be a strange time for au pairs who are away from home. Try to include them in your festivities. Be prepared for homesickness …
Chapter 44
JILLY HAD BEEN pleasantly surprised when Marie-France rounded the corner in her little dented white Renault – slightly fast, it had to be said! – and screeched to a halt outside a gorgeous white cottage with a magnolia tree in front.
Just as well her mother hadn’t come after all. She could almost hear her speaking now. ‘So that’s where our monthly payments went!’
They’d trooped in, feeling rather awkward. Where would they all sleep? But then Marie-France led the boys up a ladder to an enormous attic with three beds, beautifully made up in crisp white linen. ‘You are here,’ pronounced Collette, throwing open another door with a large double bed and heavy mahogany chest of drawers.
‘And you’ – her eyes flashed at Angela – ‘are here.’ She gesticulated to a makeshift bed next to her daughter’s bed in Marie-France’s room.
‘Perfect,’ breathed Angela who would no doubt talk all night to Marie-France about her son. Poor thing.
‘As for you,’ sniffed Collette, giving Jeremy a dismissive haughty glare, ‘you are in the wood shed.’ There was a brief pause, then she gave the glimmer of a smile. ‘Do not look so worried. There is a bed and a heater there. Besides, it is fitting, n’est-ce pas? Was not your God born in a simple place?’
That was two days ago and the atmosphere was still tricky, thanks to Collette, who was being decidedly prickly. But Jeremy was amazing in the way he steered potentially awkward conversations on to safer waters.
Then again, Jeremy had always been a people person, which was partly why his parish drop-in centre was usually bursting. Marie-France, she couldn’t help noticing, was slowly warming to him too. There had been long chats in the corner of Collette’s sitting room with the two of them poring over photograph albums. Angela had been hovering on the fringe, clearly desperate to join in but not wanting to impose until Jeremy, who suddenly noticed, invited her to join them.
But Collette was a nightmare! ‘May I help you?’ Jilly offered every time their hostess started to prepare a meal. But she was met with a stony stare.
‘You English, you do not know how to cook, let alone make love.’ She waved her hand in the direction of the twins who were playing in the snow outside. ‘You look after them. And do not let your big boy anywhere near the girls in the village. I do not want them to get pregnant too.’
Ouch! But she had a point. Nick, whose ideas about French girls had obviously been boosted by his experience back in Corrywood, kept going for walks on his own with his iPod, probably sussing out the local talent. David, meanwhile, had taken to going outside as well ‘to get a better reception’ and was constantly talking on the phone.
It made her feel uneasy. He might be off the hook with those pink pants but, unless she was mistaken, something was going on.
After lunch on the third day, they all went round the village in an exploratory group led by their hosts. There wasn’t much to see, to be honest. The church; the school where Marie-France had studied; a rundown chateau on the outskirts at which they could only gawp from a distant wire fence. And a post office cum general stores that was open for two hours a day, and the café with red gingham tablecloths and wine bottles streaked with candle wax where Marie-France had been working.
Corrywood must have seemed like a big city to Marie-France!
That night, when they’d all gone to bed, Jilly tossed and turned on the goose-feathered mattress, shivering as the wind blew through the shutters. Had it been a mistake for them all to come here? she wondered. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve! They should be at home – maybe sharing a glass or two with friends, instead of sitting it out in a h
ouse with a frosty hostess. Perhaps Jeremy should have come out here without them. And what about Mum and Dad who were all on their own?
Then she heard it. At first it sounded like a cat. ‘David.’ She pushed him slightly. ‘Can you hear that?’
When her husband was asleep, very little could wake him. Pulling on her dressing gown, she creaked open the door and padded downstairs. There, by the range, sat Collette. Without her wig. Quietly, Jilly sat next to her and took her hand. The other woman instantly pulled it away as though it had been burned.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Jilly felt embarrassed. ‘I heard you crying. I wondered if I could help.’
‘Help!’ Anger flashed in her eyes. ‘Your family has done nothing to help me.’
‘That’s not quite true,’ began Jilly.
‘You think money is the answer? Does it stop people staring? They look at your brother and they see he looks like his daughter. Now they call me a liar.’
‘But you invited us!’
‘That was Marie-France’s idea. She is very stubborn when she wants to be.’
Jilly nodded. ‘It runs in the family. My boys are the same.’
Collette’s eyes took on a dreamy look. ‘I wanted boys. I wanted a big family when I was young.’
‘Marie-France says you have a boyfriend.’
‘Pah. Maurice? I turn him down.’
‘He asked you to marry him?’
‘Yes. But I refused him because I think he should ask twice. But then he doesn’t.’
Jilly could see what Marie-France meant about her mother being a drama queen.
Suddenly Collette grabbed her arm. ‘And now, because I need more treatment, my daughter says she will not go to the Sorbonne. It is such a waste!’
For some time, the two women sat, holding each other’s hands, not speaking. She’s virtually my age, thought Jilly. This woman could have been me. Wouldn’t she too have felt bitter if, at the age of eighteen, taken in by the novelty of being in another country and perhaps throwing caution to the winds, she had been seduced by two young boys?’ And if so, how would she have felt, nineteen years down the line? Wouldn’t she, too, have felt angry? Cheated of the life which had been denied her. A bitter-sweet feeling because she had a lovely daughter but at the cost of a marriage and more children?
Then a whirring sound cut into her thoughts. The clock was striking midnight. It was Christmas Eve!
Collette stood up and wiped her eyes. ‘I have things to do. Food to prepare for tomorrow.’
‘May I help you?’ asked Jilly quietly.
The other woman appeared to consider her suggestion and then nodded. ‘Very well.’
For the next half-hour or so, they stood next to each other, slicing carrots and potatoes and then smearing the chicken with fat before putting it into the range to cook slowly for the following day. Soothing, mechanical actions that seemed to calm them both.
‘Thank you,’ Collette said quietly as she took off her apron and hung it on the back of the door.
‘No,’ said Jilly, giving her a quick hug before padding up the stairs. ‘Thank you.’
This time her husband was awake. ‘I missed you. Everything OK?’ Her husband’s arm slid around her in that comfortable jigsaw lock they had developed over the years. ‘She wasn’t having a go at me as well, was she? Didn’t suggest you found another husband like Fatima did?’
‘No.’ Jilly wriggled uncomfortably. ‘But everything is all right between us, isn’t it, David?’
‘Course it is,’ he mumbled before starting to snore.
So why didn’t he sound convincing? Eventually, still troubled, Jilly began to doze off but almost immediately – or so it seemed – her mobile bleeped. It was a long answerphone message from Paula.
Please let her be all right! For a horrid few seconds, Jilly felt sick in case Nigel had walked out. But no, Paula’s excited voice soon put that fear to rest.
You’re not going to believe this! Remember how Antoinette asked if she could have her money in advance so she could buy Christmas presents for the kids? Well, she’s only gone and left in the middle of the night with all the money and taken one of our Harrods suitcases with her.
There’s something else too! That au pair you placed with Kitty Banks from school – that really stunning Heidi girl – has run off with the husband who kept walking around half-naked in front on her! And wasn’t she the one with the dodgy reference you told me about?
Don’t worry! I won’t say a thing. But I did hear through one of the other mothers that Heidi’s also been hacking into people’s Facebooks and changing their status details just to make trouble. Poor Kitty says she always seemed like such a nice girl. Friend of your Marie-France apparently …
THEME FOR THE CHRISTMAS SERMON AT CORRYWOOD PARISH CHURCH
Christmas is a time for forgiveness …
Chapter 45
IT WAS WEIRD! Before they had all arrived from England, Marie-France reminded herself, she’d been really worried. What if Maman was rude to her new family? What would everyone in the village say?
But now Jeremy had actually arrived and she could see people in the village clocking how obvious it was that they shared certain features. Funny! Marie-France had always thought she looked like her mother. But after meeting Jeremy, she could see they shared the same thin, distinctive nose. The same hands with long slender fingers. The same bluey-green eyes. Even the same joyous laugh! It was both scary and comforting.
But she still couldn’t use the word ‘Dad’. It wasn’t just that Jeremy, with his boyish fair looks, looked more like an older brother. It was because a father was someone who had been there for you all through your childhood. Not a man whom she’d only discovered through chance.
Even so, they got on very well. During their walks, she discovered they shared similar passions. ‘When did you learn to play the guitar?’ he asked.
‘At school. Someone donated one to the music class and when I picked it up, my fingers seemed to know what they were doing.’
He nodded. ‘When I met your mother, Adam and I were in a band.’ He laughed in a touchingly embarrassed way. ‘I was bass. We used to put on concerts at the village hall.’
She could see that somehow: a tall blond teenager and all those teenage girls staring up at him with admiration.
Then the conversation had turned to her mother. ‘You must be worried about her,’ Jeremy had said in a kind but probing way.
‘Of course.’
‘Do you ever pray about it?’
She laughed out loud. ‘If there was a God, my mother wouldn’t be ill.’
‘Maybe this is his way of helping. By bringing us all together.’
‘Hah! Your mother wouldn’t agree.’
‘Ah, my mother.’ He spoke in an amused but slightly sad way. ‘I’m afraid that Mum is very stubborn. Rather like us.’
Us! That felt nice. ‘But I changed my mind about you.’
He nodded. ‘You did indeed. I still don’t quite understand why you asked us over.’
They stopped by the old village pump for a minute while he read the sign above it. ‘I think,’ she said softly, aware that Maurice Sevronne from the shop, her mother’s old flame, was walking his dog just the other side of the lane, ‘that it was because I felt half of me was missing. I needed to know who my father was.’
‘Finding your father and then knowing who he is are two different things,’ pointed out Jeremy.
‘Very true.’
‘The getting-to-know bit takes time.’
She nodded.
‘Do you want to give me that time? I would do anything for you and your mother.’ He was blushing furiously now and speaking rather too loudly. ‘I have a great deal of regard for her. She is a very brave and beautiful woman.’
Marie-France couldn’t help giggling all the way home. Maurice Sevronne’s eyes would be popping out of his head even now! Serve him right for not moving fast enough. Every woman �
� well every Frenchwoman anyway – knows you have to turn down a man at least once if you are serious about him.
After dinner – a magnificent roasted chicken from Monsieur Terron’s farm – they opened their presents as was their custom. ‘Can we be French too!’ demanded Alfie. ‘Then we wouldn’t have to wait another whole night for Father Christmas!’
The boys were so excited! Even Collette seemed to like having young children in the house at Christmas though of course she wouldn’t say so.
‘Do you think Father Christmas will still remember our stockings in the night?’ asked Harry wistfully. ‘We did email him before we left. In French and English just to make sure.’
‘And Turkish,’ added Alfie.
‘I’m sure he will,’ soothed Marie-France, watching her mother open the beautiful beige silk nightdress she’d bought for her months ago, from a lovely shop in London called Liberty’s. Maman gave her a pair of peacock-green dangly earrings which went well with her hair. So beautiful! It made her slightly embarrassed about the modest presents she had bought for the guests: a small locally made wooden picture frame for each one. For the boys, there was a large football to share which they started kicking round the kitchen immediately.
‘Be careful,’ said Collette sharply just as David was about to stop them. ‘I do not want anything broken.’
‘Boys, do you hear?’ said Jilly, flushing. ‘Now, Collette, I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve clubbed together and given you a present for both you and Marie-France.’
Her mother immediately tore open the envelope. ‘We’d like you to use it to buy an air fare so you can come back and see us in the spring,’ said David quickly.
Collette gave him an ‘are-you-joking? look. ‘I think my daughter and I have seen enough of Angleterre, thank you very much.’ Even so, she snatched the cheque, folded it neatly into four and tucked it into her pocket with a little pat of satisfaction.
‘Thank you,’ said Marie-France, deeply embarrassed by her mother’s bad manners. ‘It is very kind of you.’