A Merry Little Christmas

by Julia Williams

  ‘Lambing’s started,’ said Jean. ‘You know he’ll be out and about at all hours for a bit.’

  ‘I know,’ sighed Marianne. The downside of being married to a farmer was the antisocial hours, and the fact that a ewe in labour couldn’t be ignored, whatever else might be happening. With a sigh, she took the children to bed.

  When she got downstairs, Jean had already tidied up the kitchen.

  ‘Thanks so much,’ said Marianne. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without you.’

  ‘You know it’s my pleasure,’ said Jean.

  Steven came down, muttered a grunting acknowledgement to Marianne and stuffed his hand into the biscuit barrel.

  ‘Is Matt always like that in class?’ said Marianne.

  Steven shrugged.

  ‘He’s not normally that bad,’ he said. ‘I think he was playing up because you were there.’

  ‘I’m really sorry if I made it worse,’ said Marianne. ‘I didn’t want him to go running home accusing me of favouritism to his mum.’

  ‘I know,’ said Steven. ‘It’s not your fault. I can handle him.’

  ‘What was all that about?’ said Jean, when Steven had retreated back upstairs.

  ‘There’s a boy in Steven’s class who keeps teasing him,’ said Marianne. ‘I had to teach them today, and he was very disruptive.’ She paused, wondering if Gabriel would thank her for broaching the subject. ‘It’s one of the reasons I think Steven should go to Middleminster, actually.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Jean. ‘And Gabriel doesn’t agree with you?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ admitted Marianne. ‘He thinks it’s none of my business.’

  ‘And what do you think?’

  ‘I think Gabe should let Steven decide,’ said Marianne, ‘but he won’t listen to me.’

  ‘Hmm. That’s Gabriel all over,’ said Jean. ‘Stubborn as a mule. Always was. I’ll have a chat with him, if you like. See what I can do.’

  ‘Brilliant, Dan,’ said the physio, as she watched him hobble up and down the lounge in his walking shoe cast. The NHS waiting list for physiotherapy was so long Pippa had paid her to come to the house to help out. ‘You’re doing really well.’

  ‘Do you think?’ said Dan, managing to raise a smile. ‘So I should be back up to speed for next year’s Monday Muddle then?’

  ‘Without a doubt,’ said the physio, a pretty young brunette called Lauren who, despite looking about fifteen, was immensely good at her job. ‘You’ve done brilliantly today, well done.’

  It was what Pippa had been saying to him for days. Dan was still hobbling, but had begun using his stick less and less indoors. She grinned to herself slightly. If she’d suggested he was doing well, Dan would have bitten her head off.

  ‘Okay, what’s so funny?’ said Dan, as the physio left.

  ‘You,’ said Pippa. ‘Well sometimes you are.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘If I tell you you’re doing well, you don’t believe a word of it, but all it takes is for a pretty young physio to come in and you hang on to her every word,’ teased Pippa.

  ‘Oh,’ Dan looked completely stricken. ‘Am I so much of a bastard to you?’

  ‘No, no, that’s not what I meant,’ Pippa reassured him. ‘I was just joking. Sorry. Not funny.’

  Dan hobbled back to his chair in the lounge. He was still sleeping downstairs, but Pippa was hoping at this rate of progress, he might be back upstairs soon. Then they could all start relaxing a bit, and focusing on things getting better. She knew they were in it for the long haul, all the doctors had warned them as much, but no one had told them how hard it was going to be.

  ‘Do you fancy a cuppa and one of my muffins?’ said Pippa. ‘I was baking while you were busy breaking world records in hobbling.’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ said Dan. ‘God. Hobbling. I feel like such a feeble old man. I can’t imagine that I’ll ever walk properly again.’

  ‘Now stop that,’ said Pippa. ‘I will have no more negative talk out of you, do you hear? We’re going to get you better and that’s that. Now eat this and shut up.’

  She popped a bit of muffin in his mouth and kissed him on the head.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her down on his lap.

  ‘Pippa, you’re the best,’ he said, pulling her close to him. ‘I know you’re right. I’m just so frustrated watching you run around after me.’

  ‘I know,’ said Pippa, kissing him softly. ‘But we will get through this, and this time next year, we’ll be looking back and feeling so lucky we did. You just wait and see.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Marianne was pushing the twins up the lane to Pippa’s. She’d promised to sit with Dan so Pippa could get a break. Marianne was dreading it a little. The couple of times she’d seen Dan since he’d been home, he’d appeared morose and miserable. Pippa wasn’t saying much but it was clear she was struggling, although she had said Dan seemed to be getting on better with his walking, which was something.

  As it happened, Dan seemed to be having a good day. He was sitting in the lounge watching a rugby match he’d missed in hospital, but happily switched it off when she came in.

  ‘How are you, Dan?’ Marianne asked as she settled the twins on the floor with various toys.

  ‘Fine,’ said Dan.

  ‘Yeah, and the rest,’ said Marianne. ‘How are you really?’

  Dan didn’t say anything for a minute.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Marianne. ‘I was being too nosy. If you don’t want to talk, it’s fine.’

  ‘No, you’re all right,’ said Dan. ‘Things are pretty crap to be honest. Pippa’s running herself ragged looking after me, and the kids. My walking’s improving, but it’s slow. And I keep forgetting things, which is really frustrating. I get these blinding headaches, which make me very grumpy. I must be a total pain in the arse to look after. But I can’t seem to help it.’

  ‘What have the doctors said?’ Marianne asked, getting down on the floor to help Daisy push a toy ambulance round the room, while Harry toddled over to Dan and offered him a fire truck.

  ‘No one really seems to know,’ said Dan. ‘They keep saying time will tell, and I should be patient. But how can I be patient? It’s so frustrating watching Dad, Gabriel and David running the farm for me, while Pippa wears herself out. It’s not as if she doesn’t have enough on her plate.’

  ‘Oh Dan,’ said Marianne, ‘I know it’s hard, but you have to take each day as it comes.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me,’ said Dan savagely. ‘You don’t know what it’s like. You can’t possibly understand.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Marianne. ‘You’re right. I have no idea what you’re going through. So go on, tell me. All I’m saying is don’t run before you can walk.’

  ‘I’d be happy with just walking for now,’ said Dan.

  ‘Oh God.’ Marianne blushed with shame. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean–’

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Dan, the shadow of a grin passing across his face. ‘I’m fed up with people tiptoeing around it. It was quite funny actually. And besides, according to my physio I should be up and running in no time at all.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Marianne. ‘It would probably do you good to laugh about it from time to time.’

  They sat chatting amiably for a while, Dan clearly enjoying the twins’ chattering and toddling about. It was almost possible to forget that Dan had had an accident.

  Then Marianne said, ‘You know, I think you need to set yourself some goals. I reckon it would help. Rather than sitting here feeling sorry for yourself–’

  Dan winced. ‘Say it like it is, why don’t you?’

  ‘I thought you wanted people to be direct,’ retorted Marianne, who had always had a frank and easy relationship with Dan. ‘You’re quite rightly feeling sorry for yourself, because you think the problems are insurmountable. You should try and see if you can start improving one small thing each day.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘How about tryi
ng to improve the distance you walk each day?’ said Marianne. ‘Today the front gate, next week the end of the lane.’

  ‘That’s what my physio said I should do,’ admitted Dan.

  ‘Well there you are, then,’ said Marianne. ‘A small victory each day. It’s something to aim at, anyway.’

  ‘To little victories,’ said Dan, raising his mug of tea.

  ‘Little victories,’ echoed Marianne.

  Cat pushed her way into the village hall, where, in Pippa’s absence, she’d arranged the latest campaign meeting for the Sunshine Trust. The hall was packed. Pippa and Dan were popular in Hope Christmas, and everyone wanted to help. There were Vera and Albert from the post office, Diana Carew, the local but good-hearted busybody, and Miss Woods, who stomped noisily in with her stick, looking as if she wanted to take over the whole thing. Cat had luckily persuaded her that her expertise in logistical planning was going to be invaluable.

  Representing Hopesay Manor was Michael Nicholas, Ralph’s enigmatic young nephew, resplendent as ever in black leather. He was rather good looking, with longish curly black hair and the most mesmerising blue eyes Cat had ever seen. He was slightly unshaven and looked like a raffish pre-Raphaelite artist. Rumour had it that half the young mums in Hope Christmas were hopelessly in love. Cat couldn’t blame them – if she wasn’t married herself … In fact judging by the way Diana Carew was fawning over him, it wasn’t just the young women.

  Calling the meeting to order, Cat said, ‘As you know, we’ve had an incredibly generous offer from Michael Nicholas on behalf of Ralph, to let us use Hopesay Manor for our Christmas ball. Not only that, but I’ve managed to cadge some funding from the firm my husband used to work for, and they’ve offered to fund a champagne reception. The TV company I work for are pitching an idea for a documentary, which will involve filming the work of the Sunshine Trust and our efforts to help them, which I hope will raise the profile of our campaign.’

  ‘How thrilling,’ boomed Diana. ‘I wonder who they’ll want to film?’

  ‘The people in the home, I imagine,’ said Miss Woods, sotto voce.

  ‘Today, I’d like to start sorting some jobs out for the ball,’ said Cat. ‘I need someone to organise the blind auction.’

  ‘We can do that,’ said Vera and Albert.

  Diana jumped in to organise the auction itself – leaving Cat to smile wryly at the thought of the people being browbeaten to get donations. Cat sighed with relief. She hated asking people for things like that. It needed someone who had no shame and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Much better for Diana to do it – and she was revelling in the idea of meeting some proper celebrities. Cat grinned ruefully. Clearly she was too well known in the village to count as a proper celebrity.

  By the end of the meeting, Cat had sorted out table decorations, the auction, the blind auction, and had got someone to organise the catering.

  ‘There’ll be nothing for me to do,’ she said as she put her file away.

  ‘You’re clearly well practised at the art of delegation.’ Michael appeared by her side as if from nowhere. His warm, all-encompassing smile made her appreciate what the good ladies of Hope Christmas were feeling. He was seriously gorgeous.

  ‘How’s your mother?’ Michael continued. ‘I understand from Noel she’s not very well.’

  ‘She’s fine – well, as fine as she’s ever going to be,’ said Cat.

  ‘It must be a huge worry.’

  ‘It is, like watching someone fade away in front of your eyes,’ said Cat. ‘It’s always at the back of my mind. I still wish we could have looked after her at home, but we can’t.’

  ‘You can only do so much,’ said Michael with ready sympathy. ‘I’m sure your mum understands.’

  ‘If she could only remember who I was,’ said Cat. ‘Sorry, bad joke … a black sense of humour helps I find.’

  ‘I bet it does,’ said Michael. ‘It’s a hard row you have to plough, right now, Cat. But it won’t last forever.’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Cat, her eyes shining, ‘I don’t even want to think about that.’

  ‘Well make the most of the moment, then,’ said Michael. ‘Your mum isn’t the same as she was, but she’s still here.’

  ‘That’s a very good way of looking at it,’ said Cat. ‘Thanks.’

  She smiled at him, as she packed her things together, and got ready to leave. Nothing had changed, but weirdly, she felt comforted. Michael was right. At least Mum was still here. That was something.

  Pippa was struggling to get Lucy into bed. It had started with her having an unusual tantrum. Don’t want to go to bed, she’d typed. Want to watch Britain’s Got Talent. Pippa sighed. Thanks to endless reruns on ITV2, Lucy was able to watch her favourite shows as often as she liked, but it was late and she had school the next day.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Come on, it’s way past your bed time.’

  Won’t go, Lucy typed, and folded her arms, going so rigid in her wheelchair that Pippa wasn’t able to move her at all.

  It was so unlike Lucy. Normally an amenable child, she had been fidgety and restless since Dan had been ill. And she was getting so big. What was once a relatively easy – physically, at least – job was becoming increasingly more difficult. Just before Dan’s accident, he’d been helping her more and more, but the recent weeks had left Pippa feeling very alone. Plus the effort of helping Dan in and out of bed as well was taking its toll. She’d ricked her back and consequently felt like an old cripple most days. Nathan, who’d clearly heard her swearing, came in and said, ‘Can I help, Mum?’

  She hated to ask him. Nathan was still only twelve years old, and more and more of late was adopting the role of man of the house. With his dark hair and blue eyes, he looked increasingly like his dad too.

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘Can you help me persuade Lucy she needs to go to bed?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Nathan. ‘Lucy, you need to go to bed.’

  Don’t want to go, typed Lucy sulkily.

  Nathan made a silly face at Lucy who giggled, and typed, Loser, on her pad.

  ‘You’re the loser,’ said Nathan, tickling her feet which got her giggling. It relaxed Lucy enough for Pippa to be able to lift her out of the wheelchair, while Nathan carried her feet and continued to tickle them, much to Lucy’s delight.

  They were both laughing so much, Nathan nearly dropped her feet, which made Lucy laugh some more. But it worked. In no time at all, Lucy who’d been getting as fractious as Pippa, was comfortably tucked up in bed.

  ‘Thanks Nathan, you’re a great help,’ Pippa said, giving him a hug. He squirmed away, but looked pleased, before disappearing into the lounge to watch TV.

  Pippa went into the utility room off the kitchen to sort out laundry. She was dog tired and felt like an automaton. She just longed to climb into bed and go to sleep for a week. But there was always so much to do, and Dan needed help getting into bed too.

  Suddenly there was shouting from the lounge and Nathan was running up the stairs in floods of tears, saying, ‘I hate him, I hate him,’ before slamming the door to his bedroom.

  ‘What on earth’s going on?’ said Pippa, following him up to his bedroom. She sat down on the bed and gave him a hug.

  ‘It’s Dad,’ said Nathan. ‘He wouldn’t let me watch anything I wanted to on TV, and then shouted at me.’

  ‘Oh sweetheart, you know he doesn’t mean it,’ said Pippa, hugging him close. ‘You remember, I explained Daddy’s going to take time to get better. It’s his injury that makes him behave like that.’

  ‘But what if he doesn’t get better?’ said Nathan. ‘I looked up some stuff about brain injuries on the internet and sometimes people change permanently.’

  Bloody internet.

  Pippa took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘I honestly don’t. But we have to hope and believe that he will. In the meantime, try not to get too upset, Dad doesn’t mean to be angry with you.’

  Having consoled her son,
Pippa went downstairs to tackle her husband. She found him sitting with his head in his hands, looking more desolate and lonely than she’d ever seen him.

  ‘What kind of person am I?’ he said. ‘What am I turning into? My children are afraid of me. You hate me. I don’t think I can go on like this any longer.’

  ‘Oh, Dan,’ Pippa fell to her knees and flung her arms around his neck. ‘That’s not true. Of course it isn’t. You’re not well, but you’ll get better. I promise you. We can get through this.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ said Pippa. ‘For better, for worse, remember. You don’t get rid of me that easily.’

  Dan’s answer was to squeeze her hand tightly and hold her in a long embrace. But as she pulled away she noticed a sadness in his eyes. She wasn’t sure she’d convinced either him, or herself.

  Mel

  FACEBOOK status Beef!!!

  Kaz: What, what?

  Ellie: Good or bad beef

  Mel: good xxxoooxxx

  Ellie: boy?

  Mel: Maybe

  Kyra16: Spill the goss

  Jen17: Hope he’s reem

  Mel: He sure is

  Kaz: NOooooo

  Mel: Yessss!!

  Kaz: But we said …

  Mel: No you said …

  Ellie: ???

  Mel: Kaz thinks I’m being stupid.

  Kaz: You are.

  Jen17: what, why?

  Mel: Nothing.

  Kaz: BBM PRIVATE CHAT NOW

  Ellie: so the beef is?

  Mel: tell you later.

  Andy: status. SO NOT SINGLE.

  Teenage Kicks

  I saw the Boy today. Not just from a distance. Actually saw him. He came into the caff when I was working & we talked. Best Mate isn’t speaking to me cos I said she should butt out. It’s not her business.

  He apologised about before. The girl I saw him with is an ex, and really clingy. And he’s been busy working. Asked me to give him a second chance. Best Mate laughed when I told her. But she doesn’t understand. She’s never been in love.