by Janey Fraser
That night, they all went to midnight mass where, just as Marie-France had feared, everyone stared at them. But she was beginning not to care any more. The only thing that really mattered, she thought, as her phone bleeped with a ‘Happy Christmas’ message from Thierry, was that Maman got better.
HOW TO GET THROUGH CHRISTMAS AS A SINGLE PARENT!
Start by making your own new traditions … Do things you didn’t do before, when you were part of a couple.
Extract from Dads Alone magazine
Chapter 46
SALLY AND MATTHEW had always intended to take Lottie to Disneyland in Paris. It had been one of the things on their list for ‘when she got better’.
But after her death, it had lost its appeal. All those garish pictures in brochures with giant Mickey Mice splitting themselves with laughter and fairy towers in a world where, as Matthew had already learned, there was no magic wand to make everything better.
Yet what was the alternative? A long grey Christmas Day at home in front of the television with a ready-stuffed turkey and sweet sherry – he had a feeling that Margaret would like sweet sherry – pretending that they were a family who was doing a lonely neighbour a favour? No. After the difficult time they’d just had, surely he could do better than that for his daughter?
And he would! Maybe it was the commission from Duncan that had restored his self-esteem, not to mention his bank balance. Or perhaps it was the fact that, at long last, Matthew had now created some stability for his daughter (thanks to Margaret). But either way, he was beginning to feel stronger and more positive than he had for a long time.
Whenever he felt himself slipping back into those ‘what ifs’ and regrets about the past, he pictured the box Christina had told him to imagine and packed all the old doubts and worries inside, before mentally sealing the top. ‘Crazy,’ he told himself. Yet it worked. It was definitely helping him to move on.
Now he was going to face Christmas with a strong and positive attitude for the sake of his daughter. It was, Matthew told himself, going to be different from last year when he and Lottie had both been so raw and lost. So he’d start by setting new traditions – a rather good piece of advice in an article he had read at the dentist’s. Disneyland, here we come!
The trip, he insisted, was part of Margaret’s Christmas present for looking after Lottie. ‘Matthew, that’s so kind of you! I feel sick with excitement!’
And now, as they got off their Eurostar train and checked into their Disney-themed hotel, he also found himself being swept away by the spontaneity of his own actions and – it had to be admitted – by all the glitzy magic.
‘Dad! Dad!’ Lottie was jumping up and down in her bedroom, which had a pink palace of a bed. ‘Can we go straight to the park?’
So they did, leaving Margaret behind in her room to relax (‘You should see my bathroom, Matthew. I could spend all day there!’) before heading for one of the tallest rides in the park. It made his stomach plummet just to look at it! Of course he knew why Lottie wanted to go there.
‘What do you think is up there?’ said his daughter after they’d queued up along with loads of other families, some of whom, he was heartened to see, were lone dads like himself.
‘Mummy?’ he said, preparing himself for questions about heaven. He knew it had been too good to be true. For the past few weeks, Lottie had been so distracted by the end-of-term play in which she’d played Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz (Margaret had turned out to be a great costume-maker) that there hadn’t been any awkward questions about Sally.
‘No, silly.’ Lottie elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Accumulative clouds. We’re doing them at school.’
‘Don’t you mean cumulus?’ asked Matthew, relieved that the subject hadn’t turned to heaven. That was another thing. Lottie had become much more like her old self. She was concentrating at school. She’d stopped looking for her mother in the garden. And she didn’t make up any false stories that got others into trouble.
It seemed as though they were both moving on. As he and Lottie went hurtling down the Minnie Mouse slide, Matthew thought about the dinner date he and Christina had arranged in the New Year. Who knew what it would lead to? But even if it came to nothing, at least he’d have proved that he’d been brave enough to take a chance.
Just as long as it didn’t upset Lottie. That was another reason why he’d taken the house off the market now he had at two-year contract with Duncan. Stability for Lottie meant allowing her to live in an area where she had friends.
Meanwhile, there was still one more thing he needed to do. Something that Christina had suggested. Something that sounded crazy but, well, was maybe worth a shot. Something that would have to wait until they got home.
‘Dad! Dad! Look,’ called out Lottie as they returned to the hotel and found Margaret. ‘I’ve lost another tooth.’ She held out her little hand. There, in her palm, was a small white lump.
‘It’s a real tooth!’ she insisted, jumping up and down. ‘Not a pretend stone like before.’
‘What do you mean, love?’ enquired Margaret, who had the mini-bar open and was looking a bit flushed.
Lottie looked awkward. ‘When we had the oh pears, I used to pretend a tooth had fallen out but really I put a little stone under my pillow so the tooth fairy came. But I had to stop that when Mummy told Marie-France what I was doing.’
Matthew didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Lottie, that’s lying!’
‘No, it’s not.’ Margaret put her arm around his daughter. ‘It’s called having a fertile imagination. Maybe she’ll be a writer one day, Matthew. Now that would be something, wouldn’t it?’
A week later, Matthew stood by Sally’s gravestone, the letter in his hand. He’d been going to put it by her stone but somehow it felt better to read it out loud. It wasn’t long. And it had been easier to write than he’d thought.
‘Hello, Sally.’
He glanced uneasily behind in case anyone else was there but the cemetery was deserted. ‘It’s me, Matthew.’
Well, maybe she’d thought it was that scumbag Phillip who was now in an open prison for fraud. Apparently he’d been planning to make a quick escape to the Cayman Islands when he was arrested.
‘I just wanted to say that I forgive you. You shouldn’t have had an affair, but I can also see why you did it. I wasn’t perfect. We weren’t perfect.’ He laughed out loud. ‘In fact, we were all wrong. It was only Lottie who kept us together in the first place. But she’s worth it, Sally. She really is. You’d be so proud of her if you could see her. She doesn’t tell lies any more. But Mr Balls at school says she’s really imaginative. You should read her stories!’
He stopped briefly to compose himself before continuing. ‘I’m working from home now but Margaret, one of our neighbours, comes in when I can’t collect Lottie from school. We had some au pairs for a while but it didn’t work.’
He stopped, bracing himself. ‘One got murdered and I still can’t help feeling slightly responsible for that. She ran off, you see … and then someone strangled her.’ He shivered. ‘The trial’s next year and it’s going to be horrible, giving evidence, but then life isn’t easy, is it? You know that.’
The words were pouring out now. He could imagine Sally standing there; not with an irritated expression on her face, but with the kind smile that had first attracted him to her. ‘Go on,’ she seemed to say. ‘Go on.’
‘We’re all right, Lottie and I. We even went to Disneyland for Christmas. Remember how we always said we’d do that? Lottie still talks about you and she’ll always love you.’
He hesitated. This was the difficult part. ‘In a way, so will I. But I’ve met someone else, Sally. I don’t know if she sees me in the same way but I’m going to give it my best shot. Wish me luck. Be happy. Wherever you are.’
Kneeling down, he put a single lily on her grave and then stood up again. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out an empty bottle of aftershave and placed it next to the stem.
Matthew
glanced at his watch. If he was quick, there was just time to freshen up before meeting Christina for dinner.
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Chapter 47
Spring
‘IT’S AWFUL, JILLY. It really is! Nadya refuses to sit with us for family meals and then raids the fridge when I’m out at work. Last week, she wolfed her way through an entire packet of Finest Scottish Salmon.’
Jilly took a deep silent breath on the other end of the phone. ‘Leave it with me, Mrs Fisher,’ she soothed. ‘I’ll have a talk with her and then if she still doesn’t work out, we’ll find you a replacement.’
‘I gather that was Frieda Fisher again,’ remarked Paula, looking up from her screen where she was compiling another of her amazing spreadsheets. ‘I heard about the salmon theft at school. It’s no big deal. When I think about the things that Antoinette got up to, I don’t know how I managed.’
Jilly went back to her desk opposite Paula’s and looked out across the garden where the daffodils were coming into bloom. ‘It’s a big deal to her and that’s what matters.’
Paula shrugged. Jilly was still getting used to her friend wearing what she saw as office outfits: neat little cardigans over well-tailored trousers instead of jeggings. ‘Still,’ she said, getting up to make a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner. ‘That’s why we work, Jilly, you and me. You’re good with people thanks to your HR experience and I’m not bad at admin. What do you think of this?’ She passed over a timetable of suggested au pair activities. ‘I thought it might be a blueprint!’
‘Great idea.’
Paula flushed with pride. Everything between them had been so much better after David had suggested asking a few friends round for New Year. ‘What about Paula and Nigel?’ she’d suggested. ‘You can’t ignore him for ever.’
‘Then I’ll have to say something.’ David gave her a look. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t make a scene. I’ll take him to the pub first.’
They had both returned in one piece with a slight coolness between them. And the first thing Nigel did was to go up to Paula and give her a kiss on the cheek.
‘I told him not to be a fool any more, among other things,’ said David in a low voice. ‘Let’s just hope that he listens this time.’
Then the others arrived and, before long, with the help of a lot of laughter and wine, they toasted in the new year.
‘To Jilly’s Agency!’ said David, raising his glass.
‘To Jilly’s Agency!’ everyone chorused.
Later, when she and David were clearing up, he had an unexpected suggestion. ‘Why don’t you ask Paula to be a partner? That way, you’d have more time for the kids and be less stressed.’
‘And where do you think we’re going to work? In the airing cupboard? As it is, I’m fighting for space on the kitchen table. And even though Mum’s gone now, I don’t want to move the twins back into one room. They’ll keep each other up at night.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ said David, slightly shiftily, ‘and that’s why I’ve been busy organising a late Christmas surprise. It was a bit of a gamble and I probably should have consulted you first but it’s arriving next week.’ He handed her a brochure from his jeans pocket. ‘What do you think?’
Jilly gawped at the picture. Above it was the headline: WORK FROM HOME IN YOUR OWN GARDEN OFFICE.
The price tag made her blanch.
‘We can’t afford this,’ she gasped. ‘And anyway, where would it fit?’
‘We can afford it because things are much better at work now and I’ve done a deal with the suppliers. I’ve been looking into this for months – I’m surprised you haven’t been suspicious about all my furtive phone calls – and I’ve got it down to a good price. I’ve had someone round to check on the positioning too and it could just about squeeze in between the fence and the kids’ swing.’ He took her hand. ‘It’s also a good idea to have a barrier between home and work, Jilly, so you can cut off.’
Cut off! Know when to stop work and spend time with the family instead! David was right. She did need to do that.
‘It’s also a sorry present,’ added her husband, looking rather shamefaced. ‘I know we’ve been through a rough patch and I also know it was mainly my fault for feeling so inadequate. No. Don’t disagree. Fatima – and your mum – pointed out a few home truths before Christmas.’ He took her hands in his. ‘You wouldn’t really take her up on her suggestion to find a Turkish replacement for me, would you?’
That wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned it. Clearly, good old Fatima had struck a nerve.
‘Maybe not.’ She snuggled into him. ‘But only if you understand that I’ve changed. I’m not going back to the old Jilly.’
He nodded. ‘I can see that. In fact, I’m really proud of you.’
‘Honestly?’
He nodded. ‘But have a think about bringing Paula in. It might be just what you both need.’
Jilly wasn’t sure. Would her friend really want to give up her exercise classes? After all, it wasn’t as though she needed the money. But to her amazement Paula had jumped up and kissed her on the cheek when she broached the idea. ‘That would be fabulous, now Immy’s at pre-school! A proper part-time job! And not one that takes me away from the kids. Imagine! I can tell everyone now that I’m co-director of an agency!’
Co-director! They hadn’t even got round to discussing titles but what the heck. If it worked out with Paula, she wasn’t going to get precious. And to her surprise, it was working out. Two heads were better than one. Like right now.
‘If Nadya doesn’t quit her fridge-raiding, we could always place Katrina with Mrs Fisher instead,’ suggested Paula, returning to her desk.
‘Katrina? The German girl who rang yesterday because she isn’t happy with her London agency?’
‘Exactly. Now if you don’t mind, I’d quite like to finish early. Immy has a ballet lesson.’ She flushed. ‘And Nigel is taking me out to dinner. He’s been so much nicer since I started working with you.’ She gave Jilly a nudge. ‘Especially in the bedroom department. I think he respects me more. And you know what? I respect myself more too for doing something!’
Jilly felt awkward. She still wasn’t sure if she should have warned Paula about her husband’s roving eye. Then again, maybe it was none of her business. But if things did go belly up with Paula and Nigel’s marriage, she’d be there to help her. After all, that’s what friends were for.
‘Think I’ll call it a day too.’ Jilly got up and stretched. How lovely to be able to lock the door and go back to the house without worrying about work. The children should be back from school soon and she’d need to start thinking about dinner.
She and Paula brushed cheeks at the back door and then she went inside. The house was immaculate! Surfaces gleaming and today’s post neatly stacked on the kitchen table. Goodness! It looked as if there was no need to worry about tea. Something delicious was bubbling in the oven. What bliss!
‘Hello! It is us!’ There was the sound of the front door opening and the trampling of two pairs of small feet. ‘We are returned!’
A tall, beaming, fantastically good-looking youth with a shock of blond wavy hair strode in, closely followed by the twins. ‘Jan’s going to take us to play football in the park after tea,’ announced Alfie.
‘And he’s going to do my maths homework,’ put in Harry.
‘Brilliant. But maybe Jan would like a cup of tea first?’
‘Earl Grey or Russian Caravan?’ Jan grinned at her. ‘How you English love your tea!’
And how the other mothers at school loved Jan! He had been another of David’s ideas. ‘Even if you two do set up in business with a proper office, you’re still going to need some help,’ he’d pointed out.
Then she’d had the phone call from a Dutch boy called Jan. He didn’t want to work in London wh
ere male au pairs were more acceptable. He wanted to work just outside and Corrywood would suit him fine. But the women here, it seemed, were prejudiced. Their husbands wouldn’t like it, they’d told other agencies who’d been unable to place him. So he was desperate. Could she help?
‘I’ll take you on to my books,’ Jilly had said. ‘In fact, I think I know just the family for you. My lot could do with a man around during the day.’
And that was how Jan had come to live with them! He was well behaved, didn’t have BO, got on brilliantly with the boys and gave Nick some dating tips with the result that her eldest was now seeing a nice girl from school. Very occasionally she spotted David giving her a sharp look when Jan leaped up to pull back her chair for her at dinner. Great! If it kept her husband on his toes and made her feel good about herself, all well and good.
Meanwhile, Fatima had finally moved out. Somehow, Jilly hadn’t been surprised when Jeremy had suggested that now Fatima’s immigration papers were sorted, she should go to live with him in Suffolk. ‘It would be nice to have a baby around the place,’ he’d said rather wistfully. ‘And we’ve got a great college on our doorstep. She wants to do an accountancy course. Did she tell you?’
But Fatima didn’t like men! Or did she?
‘Jeremy, he is different!’ Was it Jilly’s imagination or was that a dreamy look in the girl’s lovely brown eyes? ‘He is kind. Not like most men.’
There was another surprise too. One that had arrived in the post that morning. A white card with silver edging: Collette Dubonne and Maurice Sevronne invite you to their wedding on 25 May.
According to Marie-France, Maurice had got so jealous of Jeremy at Christmas that he’d finally proposed again. And this time, Collette had said yes.
‘Shall we accept?’ asked David when he saw the invitation later that evening.
She nodded. ‘Definitely.’
‘Is this one of those marriages because Collette is so ill?’