by Heidi Swain
He bent over, rubbing his back and I couldn’t help but smile at the image of him carrying Gwen into church. She really was a mischievous old rascal. But talking of firemen, where had Bea got to? My plan to avoid Steve had failed spectacularly so far. I hoped she wasn’t going to let me down as well.
‘Oh and by the way,’ he added almost telepathically, ‘Bea’s not coming.’
‘What?’
‘She said she couldn’t face it without Sam so she’s gone straight to the pub to drown her sorrows.’
‘Perhaps I should go and make sure she’s OK,’ I whispered, trying to step around him and make my escape, but he quickly put a hand out to stop me.
‘It’s only forty minutes,’ he said quietly, ‘I think she’ll manage, don’t you? And besides,’ he added with a nod to the front, ‘they’re about to start.’
The service was every bit as wonderful and entertaining as Jemma and Lizzie had suggested it would be. One of the kings forgot his gift for the baby Jesus, whom Mary dropped on more than one occasion, and the front and back of the camel never did quite work out how to walk in tandem, but Ella excelled as she expertly guided her fellow charges through their few short lines.
‘When I came last year,’ whispered Steve, nudging my arm to get my attention and staring down at me with his unnervingly penetrating gaze, ‘I wondered what it would have been like watching our kids up there.’
The admission came completely out of the blue and was a total shock. For a second I wished I had taken the seat next to Mum and Dad at the front because I wasn’t sure my legs were going to keep me upright long enough to formulate a response.
‘Don’t you ever think about things like that?’ he asked, bending closer as the organ struck up and everyone jostled to their feet.
‘Not really,’ I whispered.
I didn’t want to just say a flat ‘no’ and hurt his feelings, but judging by his pained expression I already had. From the anguished look on his face I just knew my arrow had fired straight and true through his heart and that hadn’t been my intention at all.
‘But then, of course, I’ve been away, haven’t I?’ I quickly backtracked. ‘Had I still been living here, surrounded by reminders of what could have been then I dare say I would have thought about it. A lot.’
‘You don’t have to say that,’ he said, turning his attention back to the sheet we were sharing. ‘Given everything that has happened, I probably wouldn’t have given any of it a second thought either if I was you.’
‘I wouldn’t say that I haven’t given it any thought,’ I swallowed, ‘but we’re a bit young for you to have been thinking about us having kids, aren’t we?’
I was trying to lighten the moment but it didn’t work.
‘Actually,’ Steve sighed wistfully, ‘I seem to remember there was a time when we’d planned our lives out entirely.’
I remembered that time too, as if it were only yesterday. Without thinking too hard about it or dissecting my intentions, I quickly slipped my hand into his and gave it a little squeeze. When I went to pull away, he wouldn’t let me go and so we stood side by side, for once united, and I honestly thought my heart would break if I had to let go again.
No one was in a rush to leave when the service finally finished.
‘You are coming to the pub, aren’t you?’ asked Steve, reluctantly letting go of my hand before the congregation cottoned on.
‘Yes,’ I said, fiddling with the flowers again as the noise level of chatter and well wishes began to escalate. ‘But I want to see Jemma and everyone first, and I made this for Sean,’ I said shyly, holding the posy up to show him, ‘I want to make sure he knows there’s no hard feelings.’
‘Oh, you silly sod,’ smiled Steve with a shake of his head. ‘I’m sure he knows that already, but the flowers are beautiful and Mum will be really touched that you’ve been thinking about him.’
‘What did you think?’ shouted Ella as she skipped down the aisle towards us. She’d already managed to pull down part of the hem I knew Lizzie had only just finished repairing. ‘Did I do all right?’
‘You were wonderful,’ I told her, ‘I don’t think the little ones could have managed without you.’
‘Thanks,’ she beamed, giving me a twirl, ‘but I don’t think I’ll do it next year,’ she added, wrinkling her nose.
‘No?’
‘Nah,’ she said, ‘I’m getting a bit too old for all this now.’
I knew there was absolutely no point contradicting her; Ella was one young lady who certainly knew her own mind.
‘Right, madam,’ said Jemma, as she finally fought her way to us through the crowds, ‘go and find your coat and wellies. We need to get home and get sorted for Santa, don’t we?’
‘Oh yes,’ Ella giggled, before racing off again, ‘and we don’t mean you this time, Steve!’
As she skipped off to find her things I couldn’t help noticing that Jemma was eyeing Steve and me speculatively and I took a cautionary sidestep to avoid her jumping to the wrong conclusion.
‘So,’ said Steve, as Tom carried Noah back down the aisle with Lizzie, Ben and Angela filing close behind, ‘are you all set for tomorrow then?’
‘I think so,’ said Jemma, ‘it’s been tricky finding suitable hiding places for all the presents this year, not to mention finding the time to wrap them all, of course. Kids’ things always seem to be in such massive boxes these days!’
‘Tell me about it,’ smiled Steve, ‘I’ve been helping my cousin lug things for his two around in the van. Goodness knows how many polystyrene chips are going to be littering his lounge tomorrow morning!’
‘Ordinarily we hide stuff at my parents’ house,’ explained Tom, ‘but this year they’re heading north to spend Christmas with my sister so there was no point really. We would only have had to move it all again.’
‘It’s going to be just the four of us this year,’ sighed Jemma dreamily, ‘and I can’t wait.’
‘And what about you two?’ I asked Lizzie and Ben. ‘Are you home alone as well?’
‘No, not this year,’ said Lizzie. ‘We’re eating at the pub with my mum and dad and, from what I can make out, practically every other Wynbridge resident!’
‘Snap,’ said Steve, ‘and if last year’s celebration is anything to go by, it’s going to be one hell of a party.’
‘I’m not sure you should say H-E-L-L in church,’ chastised Ella who had returned in record time and was pulling on her coat while stuffing her feet in her wellies.
I couldn’t help smiling. Evidently she thought it was all right to spell the word, just not say it.
‘And what about you, Angela?’ I quickly asked before Ella had a chance to get into her stride and give anyone else a lecture.
‘Just me, myself and I,’ she smiled, ‘but I’ve got a Skype call with my daughter planned for last thing.’
‘Why not come to the pub?’ jumped in Steve.
I knew straightaway that he was uncomfortable with the idea of Angela being home alone on Christmas Day, and I felt further endeared towards his kind and caring personality.
‘There’s always plenty of food and fun to go around,’ he added, trying his hardest to tempt her.
‘That’s really very kind of you, Steve,’ said Angela, ‘but I’m actually looking forward to a couple of days’ peace and quiet. It’s all got a bit hectic in the run up to Christmas this year and I could do with a proper rest.’
‘Well if you change your mind,’ Steve couldn’t resist adding, ‘you’ll know where we’ll be, and if the weather puts you off I can always run you there and back in the van. I wouldn’t mind.’
Mum, Dad, Chris and Marie finally made it out of their pew and I was flabbergasted when Dad told me that he and Mum had decided they would join everyone in the pub for a celebratory pre-Christmas drink.
Outside, under the watchful gaze of the constellations, we said goodbye to Jemma and the gang and Marie and I walked over to Sean’s grave. Just as Steve had predi
cted, Marie was very touched that I had thought of him.
‘These look really beautiful,’ she said, caressing the soft petals of the Christmas roses, ‘and you’ve put them together with such finesse.’
‘Well, I had a good teacher,’ I told her. ‘I spent a long time watching you at the wreath making.’
‘Oh well, I’ll take that as a compliment,’ nodded Marie. ‘It’s really very kind of you to remember Sean, especially at this busy time of year.’
‘I don’t think anyone will ever forget him, Marie,’ I reassured her. ‘He was a wonderful guy.’
As his mother, I had no doubt that Marie was well aware of how wonderful her first born had been, but I didn’t know what else to say. Faced with the reality of a gravestone bearing such short dates on a bitterly cold night it was all too easy to fall into cliché and sound as if you were trotting out platitudes even if you didn’t mean to.
‘Come on,’ she said, kindly helping me out, ‘it’s freezing out here. Let’s catch up with the others and get to the pub.’
I set my little present at the foot of the stone with the family wreaths, told Sean I wished that he was with us and that wherever he was I hoped he knew how much he was loved, missed and thought of, and not just at Christmas time.
Chapter 32
Hot, crowded and very noisy, The Mermaid was everything Dad usually hated, but watching him throw back his head and laugh at something Chris had said, and quickly drain his first drink, I began to think that losing his job might have been the making of him after all.
‘I’m getting a round in,’ said Steve, as he pushed his way through the crowd to the bar, ‘do you want a cider?’
‘No thanks,’ I called after him. I had no desire to wake with a hangover tomorrow. ‘Can I have a diet Coke instead, please?’
Bea was camped out on the sofa next to the fire. She was still wearing her coat and scarf and the glass she nursed as she stared morosely at the floor, was almost full.
‘I missed you at the church,’ I told her as I plonked myself down next to her. ‘We all did.’
‘I just wasn’t in the mood,’ she said with a sigh, ‘I thought I wanted a drink,’ she added, holding up the glass, ‘but I don’t seem to have the taste for it now.’ She dumped it on the table and tried to look a little more cheerful. ‘So how was the service?’
Evidently she hadn’t heard anything from Sam and as far as I knew no one else had either. His disappearance was all a bit of a mystery really and given that Bea’s pleasant enquiry didn’t match the miserable expression in her eyes I guessed that she didn’t really give two hoots about how the crib service had gone but I told her anyway. I would have said anything to try and stop her brooding.
‘No sign of lover boy, then?’ said Steve as he passed my diet Coke. I frowned up at him, hoping he would get the message and change the record. ‘According to one of the guys at the station he took hand luggage and his passport.’
He sat himself on the sofa opposite and took a long pull at his pint.
‘What?’ he frowned over at me when he had swallowed his mouthful.
‘Honestly, Steve,’ I scolded, ‘a bloody charging rhino would make less of an impact.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ shrugged Bea, who had taken the news unnervingly well. ‘What difference does it make where he is? If he’s decided to dump me, whether he spends Christmas in Doncaster or Dubai is hardly relevant, is it?’
‘I don’t think you need a passport to visit Doncaster,’ said Steve flippantly, ‘and since when did he say anything about dumping you, Bea? I can’t help thinking you’ve blown this situation out of all proportion.’
‘Steve,’ I warned, ‘give her a break. Sam’s buggered off just days before Christmas without so much as a word; what’s she supposed to think?’
Steve shrugged and examined his glass.
‘Well,’ said Bea, ‘wherever he is, at least we gave our relationship a try which is more than I can say for the pair of you.’
‘What?’ I gasped, twisting round to face her and remind her that I was an ally, not the enemy.
‘You’ve been pussy footing around each other for weeks,’ she went relentlessly on. Apparently she was immune to my best death stare. ‘It’s more than obvious that you’re both still crazy about each other but rather than getting on with it you just keep going round in bloody circles.’
‘I don’t think—’ I began.
‘Neither of you do,’ she moaned, ‘it’s ridiculous. These last few weeks have been your second chance but you’re both too dense to realise it, or too chicken to go for it. I wish you’d just get on with it one way or another because if this whole business with Sam has taught me anything, it’s made me realise life’s too short to try and twist and mould relationships to your own liking. You just have to grab what you can and be bloody grateful that someone loves you!’
Speech over, Bea picked up her bag and left. I sat open-mouthed and embarrassed and before I could think of anything to say Steve was on his feet and making for the door as well.
‘I have to go,’ he said over his shoulder.
And he did.
‘There you are, Ruby!’ called Dad as he spotted me from his position at the end of the bar. ‘Let me get you another drink.’
‘I’m OK, thanks,’ I told him as I struggled back into my coat. ‘I’m off now, actually.’
‘What, going home?’
‘Yes,’ I said, my mind still reeling from Bea’s impromptu monologue and Steve’s swift departure. ‘I’m shattered.’
I didn’t add that I also needed some peace and quiet and a few minutes to think. Was Bea right, I wondered? Were Steve and I really still crazy about each other? His hasty exit certainly seemed to suggest otherwise, but how could I be sure?
‘You can’t go yet,’ said Dad looking crestfallen.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered, ‘you and Mum can find your own way home, can’t you?’
I could see Mum sitting at a table with Marie. She was sipping a glass of white wine and laughing. She seemed more relaxed than I’d seen her in ages.
‘No, I mean it, Ruby,’ said Dad sounding suddenly serious, ‘I really need you to stay, just for a few more minutes at least.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have something to say.’
‘Well, say it then,’ I said testily. I was beginning to lose my patience. ‘Just spit it out, would you. I want to go home.’
Before I could utter another word he had walked behind the bar, whispered something to Jim and was pulling with real gusto on the big brass bell. In an instant the place was in uproar and then, one by one, as everyone began to notice who was responsible for the din they slowly fell silent. Dad turned redder than I had ever seen him and I had the distinct feeling that we were all finally about to discover the whole truth behind the market square saga.
‘Don’t worry,’ he began, his colour deepening again. ‘I’m not calling time.’
‘What are you doing then, you silly old sod?’ called Chris from the back.
Clearly old habits died hard, but there was no malice in his tone and his thumbs up suggested that he, unlike the rest of us, knew exactly what was going on.
‘I have a couple of things I want to explain,’ continued Dad, addressing everyone, but his gaze lingering longest on me, ‘and it’ll only take a minute. It’s important you all get to hear what I have to say, especially you market traders and I want you to hear it from the horse’s mouth, as it were. That way there’ll be no confusion.’
The pub door creaked open, bringing with it the customary rush of freezing air and the not so familiar face of the newspaper editor, John Porter who, in true Chris Dempster style, gave Dad another unexpected thumbs up and melted into the crowd at the back.
‘As you all know,’ said Dad, picking up the thread, ‘there has been a considerable amount of upheaval and reshuffling at the council offices during the last few days and there are a few of my former colleagues who will be reassessing the
ir CV’s this Christmas.’
‘You included,’ shouted some comic from the sidelines.
‘No,’ said Dad calmly. ‘Not me, actually, because that’s what I want to tell you. I haven’t lost my job at all.’
There were gasps all round.
‘And,’ he continued, ‘I haven’t been tempted to take any bribes or get myself caught up with dodgy investors or lose sight of the fact that I love our little Wynbridge almost as much as I love my wife and daughter.’
‘What the hell?’
‘I know we’ve all been through the mill a bit these last few days, months even.’
‘You’re not wrong!’ said Mum who, given her pallor, evidently didn’t have a clue what Dad was going to say next. ‘I think you better tell us the whole story, Robert.’
Dad looked at her and nodded.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ he smiled across at her, ‘I’ve gone to tell you and Ruby this a hundred times but I just couldn’t take the risk.’
‘It’s all my fault really,’ spoke up a voice from the back. ‘You can blame me, Mrs Smith.’
Everyone’s eyes swivelled to the back of the bar and John Porter, editor extraordinaire, stepped forward.
‘I’m the one who got your husband involved in all this.’
‘In all what?’ demanded Mum, wringing her hands.
‘I think I’d better start from the beginning,’ he said, walking up to join Dad at the bar, ‘but I’ll keep it brief. Almost a year ago, Robert came to me with concerns he had about some of the goings-on at the council.’
‘Why didn’t you to talk to someone at work, Robert?’ Mum asked.
‘I did try,’ said Dad, ‘but I soon got the feeling that the folk I was talking to were probably involved as well.’
‘So that was when he came to me,’ cut in Mr Porter. ‘I knew Robert of old, of course. Our battles over misspelling and the odd journalistic inaccuracy are well known.’