A Merry Little Christmas

by Julia Williams

  ‘The wheelchair is temporary,’ said Pippa, trying to control the tears in her voice. Kids could be so cruel. ‘It’s only until Dad gets walking again properly. Of course he’s going to get better, it will just take time. Matt Pilsdon knows nothing about it. You should ignore him.’

  A frantic and excited clicking from Lucy, who was sitting in the front room, looking out for Dan, heralded his arrival.

  Harriet came in first, carrying Dan’s suitcase, followed by Phillip pushing the wheelchair up the ramp (already in place for Lucy).

  ‘Daddy!’ The boys ran towards him, bowling each other over in their enthusiasm. Dan acknowledged their hugs with a brief smile, and accepted Pippa’s kiss with an unfathomable look.

  Lucy clapped her hands when she saw him and gave Dan a beaming smile. Dan gently held her hand and squeezed it tight. The tenderness of his look floored Pippa. It was weeks since she’d seen him look like that. It felt good to know that Dan was still in there, somewhere.

  They all settled into the kitchen, the children all talking at once. The first problem came when Pippa realised that Dan’s wheelchair was too wide to fit comfortably at the table.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake!’ Dan was clearly feeling embarrassed, and, Pippa realised with dismay, having two wheelchairs made things difficult, as everyone was having to squeeze past them to get to the table. Instead of being homely and comfortable, the kitchen felt overcrowded and awkward. Dan’s dad helped him into a chair instead, and Pippa breathed a sigh of relief as Dan seemed to relax a bit more. He duly admired the cake, the banner, the decorations, and the many cards which had arrived from everyone. So many people had helped Pippa in the last few weeks, she couldn’t imagine how she would ever repay them.

  Gabriel and Marianne popped in briefly with the children, and Dan made the effort to look pleased, but as it was clear he was flagging, they thoughtfully left.

  Harriet glanced at Pippa, then tactfully suggested sorting tea for the children, while Pippa took Dan to bed.

  They went into the makeshift bedroom Pippa and Gabe had sorted out in the conservatory. Pippa went to help Dan onto the bed, but he brushed her away crossly.

  ‘I’m not a cripple,’ he said, ‘I can walk a little.’

  ‘Let me help,’ said Pippa.

  ‘No,’ he snarled, and then with a determination she’d always known he’d possessed, she watched as he painfully inched his way from the wheelchair to the bed, then tried to get himself undressed.

  Every overture of help was rejected, so in the end Pippa said, ‘Do you want me to go?’ practically in tears, after Dan had bitten her head off for the third time.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dan, then swore loudly as he tried and failed again to reach down to undo his shoes.

  ‘Let me,’ said Pippa, seeing the pain contorting his face. ‘Please.’

  Dan didn’t say anything, but defeated, let her undress him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For this. For being such a wreck. I’m no husband to you anymore.’

  There were tears in his eyes. Her Dan, who never cracked, who’d always been the strong one.

  Smiling brightly, Pippa said, ‘Nonsense. You are going to be fine, do you hear? We’re going to get you better, so there.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Dan looked bleak. ‘I feel like I’ll never get any better.’

  ‘I just know,’ said Pippa. ‘Come on, we’re going to lick this thing. Now get some rest, and I’ll look in on you later.’

  But as she shut the door, she leant back against it with a heavy heart. This was just the beginning. How on earth was she going to manage?

  ‘Mummy, Mummy, there’s a dead mouse in the playroom! It’s really gross!’ Ruby came screaming hysterically into the lounge where Cat was ostensibly lying with her feet up. Noel had promised to cook Sunday lunch today, in order to give her a rest. She’d been back home from the hospital for several days, but was still feeling shaky and a little weepy.

  Oh God. They’d known mice were getting in somewhere, and Noel had set a succession of traps, but so far the mice had been clever enough to elude them. Cat wasn’t particularly frightened of them, but the thought of having to deal with a dead one made her stomach churn.

  ‘Where’s your dad?’ she said tentatively.

  ‘Arguing with Granny in the kitchen about the Yorkshire puddings,’ said Ruby.

  Brilliant. Cat might have known that the minute Angela arrived there’d be trouble. She knew Angela only wanted to help, but diplomacy wasn’t her strong point and she had a genius for rubbing Noel up the wrong way.

  ‘Okay, Rubes, you and me will deal with the mouse,’ said Cat. She went to the understairs cupboard where she kept all her cleaning stuff, and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and a plastic bag to dispose of the body.

  ‘Mummy, do I have to?’ Ruby pulled a face.

  ‘Come on, Ruby,’ said Cat, ‘I thought you liked gross stuff.’

  ‘I don’t like dead mice,’ she declared, ‘they remind me too much of Hammy.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll do it alone,’ said Cat. ‘Wish me luck.’

  Ruby hovered outside the door of the playroom, clearly fascinated as well as repelled by the thought of the mouse.

  Cat found it in the corner of the room, behind a toy box. The trap had been so efficient it had bounced a few feet away from where it had been left. Ugh. Not one mouse, but two. Babies. Cat felt like a criminal as she emptied the bodies into the plastic bag, and took it out to the dustbin to dispose of. That must mean there was a mum somewhere with a nest. There could be hundreds of the little buggers.

  She felt a shot of pain go through her. Ridiculous to get upset about dead baby mice, but it made her think of the blob, and how it was a blob no more.

  The doctors in the hospital had been very kind.

  ‘It’s an ectopic,’ they’d explained. ‘There is really no saving it.’

  ‘We can try again,’ Noel said, his eyes filling with tears as he held Cat’s hand and squeezed it tight. ‘It’s okay; this doesn’t have to be the end.’

  Cat had taken a deep breath, and smiled at him through her own tears. ‘I think it does, sweets,’ she said. ‘We’re too old. This wasn’t meant to happen. Nature’s giving us a warning.’ It was at that point, she’d decided to have her tubes tied, to prevent her getting pregnant again. She’d always meant to after Ruby, but somehow there’d never been time.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Noel was clearly upset, and she felt badly for him, because he was a great dad, and she could see he had allowed himself to get excited about the prospect of a new baby.

  ‘Sure,’ she’d said gently. ‘I couldn’t go through this again. We’ve got four healthy wonderful kids. We’re very very lucky. I think it’s better this way.’

  She laced her hands in his, and kissed them, trying to draw strength, not to change her mind. She had never been clearly able to see the blob as a proper baby, more as a hindrance. It was for the best. She knew it was, so why did she feel so terrible?

  ‘What’s going on?’ Noel appeared at the front door as she came back feeling pathetically teary.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘The mousetrap worked.’

  ‘You okay?’

  Noel gently took her to him, as she burst into tears on his shoulder.

  ‘It’s stupid,’ she sobbed. ‘Two dead baby mice, and I’m a total mess.’

  ‘No it’s not,’ said Noel. ‘Come and sit down, and I’ll make you a cup of tea. It’s been a rough few days, and you need to relax.’

  ‘Oh Noel, what would I do without you?’ Cat sobbed.

  ‘You’d live I expect,’ said Noel, as he sat her down on the sofa, and propped up her cushions. ‘Now how do you make Yorkshire puddings again?’

  It was only the third time of asking today, so Cat threw a cushion at him. But she felt a little better. Noel had a talent for that. She was lucky to have him. And she would survive.

  Chapter Eleven


  ‘Right, I’m off to see Granny,’ Cat announced after lunch. ‘Anyone coming with me?’

  It was over a week since Easter and the children had one day left at home before school started again. Noel had gone back to work reluctantly, anxiously asking her every other minute if she were all right, so that in the end, she’d said, ‘Bugger off, you’re beginning to annoy me now.’ Part of her wanted Noel to stay with her for a few more days, so she could stay in bed and sink back into her heartache, but another part knew that the sooner she was up and out in the world the better it would be.

  ‘I’ll come.’ To Cat’s surprise, Mel seemed quite enthusiastic. It wasn’t that she didn’t visit Louise, but it had been a long time since she’d come with Cat.

  ‘What?’ Mel said.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Cat. ‘I thought you might have revision or something.’

  ‘I’ve done my quota for today,’ said Mel. ‘It’s fine.’

  Reluctant to quiz her daughter too deeply about just how much the quota was, Cat decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Ruby, who was the most likely to accompany her, opted to go and play with her friend Holly instead, while James and Paige both suddenly had homework that needed doing urgently. Funny that.

  Mel was quiet on the way to the home, so Cat deliberately kept the chit-chat light and airy. No point creating conflict unnecessarily.

  ‘It’s lovely that you want to see Granny,’ she said, as they got out of the car and walked up the drive of the home.

  ‘Granny’s cool,’ said Mel. ‘I mean she doesn’t remember anything, but she’s cool.’

  Cat wondered wryly if it were better to be a cool granny with memory loss, or to be a stressed-out mum without. Maybe Mum was better off in some ways.

  They found Louise in the lounge, where several of the residents were gathered to have afternoon tea. Alfie wasn’t around and Mum was sitting dozing in her chair.

  ‘Hi Mum, how are you?’ Cat kissed her mother on the cheek, as Louise woke up looking a bit confused.

  ‘Are you the flower girl?’ said Mum.

  Flower girl? That was a new one.

  ‘Oh no, it must be you,’ Mum held out her hand to Mel, who took it gently and smiled at her granny encouragingly. Cat felt a faint swell of pride and gratitude. It was nice to see something of the old Mel for a change, and know that she still appreciated her granny. Mel had always been close to her grandmother as a small child, and obviously retained that closeness even now, when Louise barely recognised her.

  ‘No, that’s Mel, your granddaughter,’ said Cat.

  ‘Granddaughter?’ Mum frowned. ‘Who’s the flower girl then? Is it you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m the flower girl,’ said Cat, exchanging glances with Mel. Sometimes it was better to go with the flow, or Louise grew more agitated. She held her mother’s hand, so fragile, so pale.

  ‘You looked so pretty at the wedding.’

  Oh, now Cat got it. Mum was talking about the time she didn’t remember, but she’d seen in photos, when she’d been very tiny and been a flower girl at some long-forgotten relative’s wedding. For some reason, Mum must have remembered it. She felt oddly comforted, besides the lump in her throat. Somewhere, deep down, Mum still knew it was her.

  ‘My Cat came to see me,’ continued Louise. ‘I hope that boy doesn’t cause any trouble.’

  ‘What boy?’ Cat said, puzzled.

  ‘Oh that silly boy who doesn’t realise what a prize he’s got,’ said Louise. ‘Poor Cat. I hope she stays out of trouble.’

  ‘Does she mean you, do you think?’ Cat whispered to Mel. Louise did often confuse them.

  ‘No,’ said Mel. ‘You know what Granny’s like, she’s probably got muddled.’

  ‘Who are you calling muddled?’ said Louise, looking slightly pugnacious.

  ‘No one,’ said Mel, and kissed Louise. She had the knack of calming her grandmother down, so soon Louise had forgotten the perceived insult.

  She looked around her again, as if surprised to see them. ‘Hello. Have you come to visit me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cat with a smile.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t know your names,’ Louise said. ‘Louise Carpenter. Delighted to meet you.’

  ‘I’m your daughter, Cat,’ said Cat, ‘and this is Mel, your granddaughter.’

  She produced the family photo for the umpteenth time. Louise glanced at it, uncomprehending.

  ‘Oh are you, dear?’ she said. ‘I thought you were Auntie Lottie. Amazing.’

  Auntie Lottie had been Mum’s favourite auntie; if she got Cat muddled with her, at least it was a benign thought.

  ‘Yes, I’m Auntie Lottie,’ said Cat with a sigh. She so missed her mother. If Louise was still as active and able as she’d been a few short years ago, Cat would have poured out all the misery of her miscarriage and Louise would have dispensed comfort and wisdom. Whereas now … Cat felt a familiar agonising ache of loss. This was like watching someone die by slow degrees. She couldn’t bear it sometimes. It just felt too hard.

  They sat with Louise for about half an hour, the conversation turning in similar concentric circles.

  ‘Has it been raining?’

  ‘Yes it has.’

  ‘Well I never. I won’t go out then.’

  ‘Best not.’

  ‘So what do you think of our house?’ she said with a sweeping gesture, as if somehow, Louise was responsible for the whole place, before reverting to, ‘Has it been raining?’ all over again.

  They were both beginning to flag, when Louise suddenly announced she was going to find Alfie.

  ‘We’re running away to Gretna Green,’ she said. ‘But shhh, it’s a secret.’

  ‘That’s marvellous,’ said Cat, having visions of them tunnelling out of their rooms and escaping like Colditz prisoners. ‘We won’t say a word.’

  Deciding this was a good moment to escape, they both kissed her on the cheek, and went back to the car.

  ‘Running away to Gretna Green,’ said Cat dissolving into fits of giggles when they got to the car, ‘that’s priceless.’

  ‘It wasn’t that funny,’ said Mel.

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Cat, ‘but if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry and cry. And I know which I’d prefer.’

  ‘Oh Mum,’ said Mel, and squeezed her arm tightly. ‘I didn’t know you felt like that.’

  ‘Not all the time,’ admitted Cat, squeezing Mel’s arm back. At least that was something. She and Mel bonding over Louise. There was always a silver lining if you looked hard enough.

  Marianne was standing in front of a Year 6 class, on the first day of the summer term, feeling totally spaced out. The twins had come down with a tummy bug and had been up half the night. When she’d eventually dropped off at four-thirty a.m., Gabe had woken her up an hour later to go out to Dan’s where he was managing the cows this week, on top of his normal duties. Between Gabriel, his father David and Phillip, Dan’s dad, they had developed a pretty efficient system for keeping the farm going, but with the bulk of it falling on Gabriel as the youngest, the strain was beginning to tell. Gabe was short-tempered with both her and Steven, and less involved with the twins than he’d been up until now.

  Some days Gabe was gone before she’d got up in the mornings and though he’d come back for tea, as the evenings grew lighter, he’d go straight out again after supper, and come back late. On those days, he was so exhausted, he would fall into bed early, leaving Marianne sitting alone in the lounge, wondering what life was all about. She was the one left running the house, and the children. And she was aware that more than ever, Steven was feeling left out and neglected by his dad. It wasn’t Gabe’s fault, as Marianne kept telling Steven, but she could see why, when Steven barely saw his dad, he could feel that Gabe had lost interest – particularly as the school situation was still unresolved.

  It was nothing to what Pippa was going through, Marianne knew, but still, she was struggling. And coming in to face a very stroppy hormonal Year 6 group who were thoroughly bored o
f revising for SATs was the last thing she wanted to have to do.

  Marianne didn’t normally teach Year 6, but her Year 4 class had gone on the residential course that Marianne had been unable to attend, so she’d been lumbered with Year 6 instead. Which meant she could witness for herself that Matt Pilsdon evidently had a way of getting under Steven’s skin. He’d spent most of the morning needling him, and Marianne found herself having to play a very careful game, of not being very fair to Steven, in order to appear to be fair to Matt. If she came down too heavily on him, she knew the mother would be down on her like a ton of bricks, if there was the slightest suggestion that her darling Matt might appear to be in the wrong, or a hint that Steven’s stepmother was giving him special treatment. And knowing how wimpy Mrs Garratt could be in the face of complaining parents (a trait that wasn’t transferred to the way she treated her staff), Marianne knew she wasn’t going to get any support from that quarter.

  Luckily, George, who was Steven’s great ally, came to the rescue. Marianne observed and chose to ignore several very sparky clashes between George and Matt. She’d already overheard George respond to Matt’s ‘You’re such a loser’ comment with a mild, ‘No I’m not. I beat you every time we have a race,’ which had made Matt apoplectic. She was hoping it wasn’t going to lead to fisticuffs in the playground later. The only thing she could think to constructively do was to have a chat with Carrie Matthews, whose class it was, when she came back. Poor Steven, no wonder he was so desperate to go to a different school.

  The end of the day didn’t come a moment too soon, but much as Marianne wanted to dash off home to see the twins, she had marking to catch up and various administrative tasks to attend to. If she’d even remotely felt like leaving early, she knew it would have caused raised eyebrows, and resulted in a sarcastic comment from Mrs Garratt. As it was, she was the first to leave at six p.m., and although Mrs Garratt smiled sweetly at her on the way out, Marianne could feel the implied criticism. Marianne was beginning to wonder if the job was really worth the aggro.

  By the time she got home, exhausted and hungry, Jean had bathed the babies and was getting them ready for bed. Steven as usual was attached like a limpet to his Xbox, and Gabe still hadn’t come in from the fields.