Bloody Mary

by Ricki Thomas

  Once a woman who was proud to take care of herself, she’d stopped plucking her eyebrows, shaving her legs, moisturising her face, painting her toenails. In fact, she stopped doing anything that made her feel beautiful. What was the point? And inevitably the day came when, at a routine appointment with the doctor, she broke down, sobbing into Jaimee’s bodysuit as she clutched her tightly, and told the woman everything that had happened. Traipsing home with a packet of anti-depressants, her name on the list to see a counsellor, and another appointment for two weeks ahead, Sophie felt strangely relieved to have told her story at last. Quite simply, she’d reached rock bottom.

  Christmas Day was approaching fast, and I was excitedly arranging the festivities. Alan, Steve and his new girlfriend, Meena, Sophie, and chubby Jaimee were all coming over for the day, and I couldn’t wait. More for Jaimee’s benefit than for the adults I’d excitedly hung metallic streamers across the ceiling, erected a tree, which I’d adorned with sparkling baubles and glittering tinsel, placing endless presents underneath. The turkey was on the kitchen side, defrosting, the cake decorated with fondant icing and pretty plastic robins, and all the treats, cakes, chocolates, biscuits, cheeses, and of course the alcohol, purchased. Only the fresh produce was still left to buy the next day: Christmas Eve.

  I wasn’t aware how much Sophie had let herself go, the evidence hidden beneath long sleeves and trousers, and had no idea about the daily doses of Prozac. Sophie had become a master at hiding the bottles of brandy or sherry, the boxes of wine, the occasional four pack of lager, and she disposed of the evidence daily, hidden in carrier bags, at the nearby recycling centre, so nobody knew about her nightly binges, her growing reliance. All I saw, all everybody who visited Sophie saw, was a doting mother and a happy child.

  Since Sophie’s surprise birthday party Steve and Alan had become increasingly inseparable, and Harry was overjoyed at their closeness, yet only I knew the real reasons why.

  Harry’s car pulled into the drive, so I wiped the flour from my hands, putting the bowl of pastry mix to one side, and greeted him at the door with a brief kiss. “How did it go?”

  He followed me into the kitchen, dropping the car keys onto the side, and flicked the kettle on to boil. “Well, it was only a first consultation, so obviously there’s nothing much to tell, but he seemed like a good solicitor, seemed to know what he was talking about. He said the first thing we need to do is contact Darren’s solicitor in Mallorca, but there’s no point doing it over the Christmas period. He said he’d send a letter in the New Year. Cup of tea?”

  I nodded as I went back to making the pastry dough, adding some cold water and pummelling with my hands, and Harry collected two mugs from the cupboard, dropping a teabag in each. “Have you decided whether to tell Sophie or not?”

  He poured the steaming water into the mugs, fetching the milk from the fridge. “Well, it’s awkward, because she dismisses me every time I mention it. Maybe if I tell her what we’re doing on Christmas Day with a house full of people, she won’t react badly. I mean, she’s polite, she’s hardly going to create a scene in front of Meena.”

  I smiled warmly. “Yes, you’re right. Oh, I’m so pleased Steve’s found someone at last. She sounds lovely, I can’t wait to meet her. Well done to Alan for introducing them! Did he tell you what she specialises in when you spoke to him, like detective, or rape and abuse, or ...”

  Harry laughed at me cheerily. “Firearms! I can’t imagine a lady being a firearms expert, but apparently she is!”

  “Hey, you sexist!”

  The doorbell ringing interrupted the joviality, and Harry strolled through the hall to answer. “Juan! Come in, come in! Can I get you a drink, some tea, coffee, a beer?”

  Juan followed Harry into the kitchen, and sat at the table when invited. “No thanks, I won’t be here long, I just have a couple of questions to ask.”

  I, wrapping the pastry ball in a plastic food bag, turned to him. “Well, your English has improved since I last saw you, what was it, four months ago?”

  Juan chuckled. “Working in a hospital, talking to colleagues and patients every day, socialising at the pub, what do you expect!” Harry brought his tea from the side and sat opposite Juan. “Harry, we’ve drunk together for a while now, and I’ve heard every word you’ve said about Sophie and that trip to see Darren. I’ve become to understand why she had to go, and I think leaving her was quite a hard thing to do to her. I want to make amends. How do you think she’d take it? Is she seeing anybody else?”

  Harry smiled, debating the words for a while in his unpretentious manner. “Well, I think she would have told us if she was courting, wouldn’t she, Mary?”

  I put the dough in the fridge to chill. “Yes, oh yes, I’m sure she would. No, I think she’s still single, she doesn’t go out, really.” I took my tea and joined them at the table.

  “So what do you think she’d say if I went to her apartment and apologised?”

  “I think she would like that very much, she was very much in love with you, I know my daughter and you were special to her. There was a glint in her eye when she was with you that was never there during the time she was with Darren.”

  I was drumming my fingers on my lips, concocting a plan. “No. No, I’ve got a better idea. It’s romantic, and failsafe, that’s if you are talking about having a relationship with her again.”

  Juan blushed, his skin, less tanned in the four months he’d lived in England, reddening deeply. “Well, I wanted to test the water first. But yes, whatever I do, wherever I go, she’s always on my mind. I really believe she’s The One.”

  I gave a devious smile, and my eyes twinkled behind my expensive glasses. “In that case, she’s coming here for Christmas. Why don’t you join us?”

  “No, no, Christmas is about family, I’m flying home tomorrow to spend it with momia and papa.”

  I reached across and laid my hand over Juan’s, patting softly, my scheming not yet complete. “Ah, but if you come over, Sophie and Jaimee could be your family soon, after the wedding!”

  Again, he blushed sweetly. “I don’t know, she might hate me, she might tell me to get lost, and then I’d be having Christmas on my own.”

  “She won’t, I can promise you that.” Harry was looking nearly as excitable as me.

  Juan rose to leave. “I don’t know. Thank you for offering, I’ll speak to my parents and see what they think of it all.”

  As the Spaniard closed the front door behind him, I punched the air with a triumphant ‘yes’, and left the table, ready to roll the pastry for the sausage rolls. “Well done Harry, I knew we could sway him if we worked on him hard enough. Well done. I have a feeling this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

  But later, when Harry was taking a bath, my confidence began to wane, but I reprimanded myself for the thoughts quickly. Nothing was going to go wrong: Christmas this year was going to be perfect. I’d make sure it was.

  Chapter 26

  Christmas Day

  Although the sun was shining, low in the Wedgwood blue sky, no clouds to be seen, the ground and trees were covered with a deep frost, and the outside temperature was sub-zero. The delicious aroma of roasting turkey flowed through the house, and I was busy in the kitchen, peeling, paring, chopping, preparing, humming a cheery tune to myself. There was nothing I had come to like better, now my circumstances had improved so dramatically, than to mother and nurture my brood, and I was excited about seeing my children collected together under the same roof. Although Harry and I hadn’t got around to arranging the wedding yet, I saw Steve as my stepson, especially as my three sons from my first marriage had stopped contacting me, with my blessing, years before.

  Harry was out in the car, driving through the gritted streets to collect Sophie and Jaimee, which left me with plenty of undisturbed time to assemble the elaborate spread I had planned for the early afternoon meal. I’d already had a naughty sherry, which had gone straight to my head, flushing my cheeks and enhancing my joy
, and I merrily danced through to the living room to pour another tipple.

  Back in the kitchen I flicked on the radio and swayed with the music, singing along as I laid the table, extended to seat the additional guests, with a flourish: best tablecloth, Pimpernel placemats depicting garden herbs, Arthur Price cutlery that only came out on best occasions, a silver candle holder wrapped in red tinsel, Waterford crystal glasses, crackers and Christmassy napkins. I stood back and admired my handiwork, becoming more excited than ever.

  Harry came through the door, shivering as he hung his coat up and removed his gloves, and Sophie, carrying Jaimee in the car seat, followed him in, setting the baby in the kitchen with me. I hugged her tightly and kissed her, then did the same for her mother. “Happy Christmas mum. I’m just going back to the car to get the presents.”

  Harry kissed me lightly. “Mmmm, it smells delicious when you walk into the house.” He peered into the oven through the glass, the foil wrapped turkey steaming away as it cooked. “Are the boys here yet?”

  “No, they’ll be here soon. Can I get you a drink? Something to warm you up?” I guiltily brandished the glass of sherry with a cheeky grin. “I warmed up with a glass of sherry!”

  “Ah, now that’s a marvellous idea!” He called out to Sophie, who had just re-entered the house with two carrier bags of presents. “Sophie, would you like a sherry?”

  “Please.” Sophie began to empty the presents from the bags, joining those already under the tree, unaware that I was standing in the doorway, gazing at her with affection. Her task done, she spun around and was startled. “God mum! You gave me a shock, I didn’t know you were there.”

  “I was just watching you. You know, you’re going to have the best Christmas you’ve ever had, there’s a special little surprise for you today!”

  Sophie laughed as she sat down on the sofa, taking the glass proffered by her father. “Well, I shall look forward to that!”

  Meena and Steve arrived just before Alan, and the entire family were stunned by her appearance: she wasn’t at all similar to how they’d expected her to be. In earlier discussions, anticipating the girl’s arrival warmly, we’d supposed she would be a butch woman, well-built and strong, after all, she was a firearms expert in the police force. But in reality she was tiny, just over five foot tall, extremely petite, and we couldn’t conceive how somebody so delicate could do such a manly job. She was stunning, flawless umber skin, shining raven hair, which reached her waist, falling in thick, healthy strands. It didn’t seem possible that her dainty hands, fingers topped with golden polish, could fire guns and rifles with precision. Steve clutched her hand tightly, suspecting she may be nervous at meeting his family for the first time, but her confidence was admirable: she didn’t hesitate to step forward and introduce herself, hand outstretched.

  First was me, she shook my hand, other hand on top, with a surprisingly strong grip. “You must be Mary, Steve’s told me what a wonderful cook you are, and by the delicious smell as I walked through the door, I can quite believe that.” Then to Harry. “And you must be dad. Thank you for inviting me today, it’s really kind of you.” Steve glowed, Sophie’s heart swelling as she watched him, realising her brother had finally found the love he’d been searching for, for so many years. Meena reached over and hugged Sophie closely. “I’m guessing you’re Sophie. Steve told me that you two are really close, he adores you, so I’m really pleased to meet you at last. Where’s little Jaimee? I can’t wait to see your bonny bundle of fun.”

  Sophie laughed, releasing herself from the friendly embrace. “Cheeky bundle of mischief, more like! She’s in the living room. Come on, I’ll introduce you, but be careful with your hair, though, the loves pulling hair.”

  As Meena followed Sophie into the room, cooing affectionately as she spied the baby, Harry, Steve and I exchanged glances. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, Steve, she’s lovely, so polite and pretty.”

  Harry joined in. “Yes, a very pleasant young lady.”

  “Is it serious?” My head was filled with thoughts of a summer wedding, and I Harry was joyous when Steve confirmed that marriage was definitely on the cards.

  Juan had driven himself crazy wondering whether he should fly back to Mallorca and spend Christmas with his family, or stay in England to try and make amends with Sophie. Unable to make the decision, his mind in turmoil with the pros and cons, he’d eventually telephoned his mother and explained the situation. Her reaction was instant: of course she’d love to see him, but she’d love a daughter-in-law and babies more. He was to stop being such an idiot and spend the day with the woman he loved. Considering himself told, he sheepishly ended the call.

  Come Christmas morning he was pacing his flat again, a new dilemma racing through his mind. Should he go for the meal, or wait until the afternoon? Uncertain if he had an appetite at all, he couldn’t decide what to do for the best. Finally fed up with wearing his carpet thin, he grabbed his keys and wallet, and strolled to the pub on the corner. He ordered a pint of bitter, having taken a liking to the English brew, and sat in a quiet corner away from the revelling merrymakers at the bar, mostly men thrown out of the house while the women prepared dinner.

  Lost in thought, Juan didn’t notice the attractive blonde woman approach him, brandishing a piece of mistletoe. “Hey, handsome, how about a Christmas kiss?” He scanned her pretty features, hazel eyes, slim, not too tarty, but showing enough flesh to be appealing, and within seconds his quandary was resolved.

  The house was warm, not only physically, but from all the contented emotions of the close family. Everybody had managed a few drinks before dinner, which had loosened their laughter and brightened the conversation. Having left the kitchen for a minute, I pulled Harry into the hallway, wiping my hands on my apron. “I’ll be ready to serve up soon, maybe quarter of an hour or so.”

  “That’s nice, I can’t wait.”

  My expression registered concern and my words became urgent. “No, you don’t get it! Juan hasn’t turned up yet, but if I hold off with the food any longer than that the vegetables will spoil.”

  Harry tapped his chin, considering my problem. “Hmmm, I see what you mean. Well, I could phone him if you like?”

  “Please, I need to know, I’ve set a place for him and everything. I’ll be in the kitchen, tell me what he said when you’ve spoken to him.” I rushed back to the cooking, the crescendo of the vast meal approaching fast.

  Sophie came from the living room, passing her father on the telephone seat, dialling, and strolled to the kitchen to offer her help. I gratefully accepted, issuing breathless orders as I rushed from one dish to another, lifting pan lids, preparing gravy, heating the tableware, multi-tasking with the utmost efficiency. Harry stepped up to me, and I stilled briefly. “Well?”

  “There was no answer.”

  Again I was troubled, the dreadful thought of my matchmaking failing, and I whispered, not wanting Sophie to overhear. “Oh no, oh Harry, he’s gone back to Mallorca, hasn’t he?”

  He chuckled affectionately, placing a soothing hand on my arm. “Calm down, Mary! I imagine he’s just left the house and is on his way right now.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes! Now you go and get that food ready! Do you want me to start carving the turkey?” I stared at him, love flowing from my eyes, a glimpse of a smile, and I once again thanked the god I didn’t believe in for changing my life so dramatically, for coupling me with the man I’d always adored.

  When I called everyone to the table twenty minutes later, they hustled through, their appetites whetted by the glorious aromas spindling through the house, and they each sat in their allotted places. Once extended, the quality table sat eight people comfortably, with Harry at one head, and Jaimee’s highchair at the other end. Crammed across the centre were several steaming serving dishes holding a variety of vegetables, and a platter displaying sliced turkey, gammon, and pigs in blankets. Each place had a warmed plate, ready to receive the delectable
meal.

  Sophie strapped Jaimee into her chair and sat next to her, and her brow furrowed lightly with confusion. “Mum, why’s there an extra place setting?”

  Harry and I glanced at each other. “Well, we were expecting another guest, but they’re not here yet, I’m sure he’ll be along any minute.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  I tapped my nose. “That’s for me to know and you to find out! Now, help yourselves everybody, there’s plenty here for us all to have seconds!”

  Harry laughed. “And thirds, I think, there’s enough food here to feed an army.”

  A ring on the doorbell brought a warm, and relieved, smile to my face, and Harry left the kitchen to let Juan in. All of us busied ourselves hungrily, placing meat, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, vegetables, stuffing, bread sauce, gravy, a wholesome feast, on to our plates, but the group fell silent, stilled, when they heard Harry shout, something he never did. I trotted from the room, concerned, and moments later my voice rang out, the fear apparent. “Oh my god!”

  At the table eyes met eyes, worry, confusion, puzzlement, and Alan pushed his chair back to see what the problem was. As he reached the doorway he was met with the nuzzle of a gun, and his hands immediately sprung into the air as he was forced back into the room. As she saw the face of the aggressor, Sophie stood, eyes wide with shock, her head span, the lights went out as she collapsed to the floor in a faint.

  Alan rushed to help her, but was stopped in his tracks as Darren’s snide voice boomed. “Get away from her. All of you,” he was moving the direction of the gun from one head to another, threatening, “with your hands in the air, I want you to walk slowly out of the kitchen, and into the living room. Seat yourselves on the floor by the fire, and don’t move.”