‘Now, that’s a good idea,’ said Dad, and Marianne could have hugged him.
‘I suppose that would be nice,’ said Mum. She looked so unsure, Marianne hugged her instead.
‘We’d really love it if you and Dad came to us instead,’ she finished triumphantly.
There was a pause until Marianne’s mum tried to assimilate what had just happened.
‘Well, I for one think that’s an excellent idea,’ said Dad. ‘I hate carving turkey. I’d much rather someone else did it.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Gabriel. ‘Jenny and Nigel, really we’d love to have you. We thought we’d have open house this year.’
‘We did?’ Marianne looked slightly aghast – that hadn’t been part of the plan.
‘We’ll stay put, but anyone who wants to can come to us.’
‘Oh that sounds wonderful,’ said Marianne’s mum, warming to the idea. By the time she got back home Marianne knew she would be claiming it as her own. ‘Shall we let Matthew and Marcus know?’
‘Er, yes, I suppose so,’ said Marianne weakly. ‘The more the merrier.’
Their farmhouse was large, but not that large. ‘And I know Auntie Mags is going to be on her own this Christmas …’
Gabriel was in danger of exploding with laughter, so Marianne tactfully suggested it was time they went back to the caravan to put the twins to bed, while her parents stayed out for a drink.
‘Oh my dear God, what have you done?’ said Marianne, when they collapsed, giggling hysterically, into their room after the twins had settled down.
‘I don’t care,’ said Gabriel. ‘We’ve got what we wanted. Christmas at home. Our way. The whole bloody family can come for all I care.’
‘You don’t have to do the cooking,’ said Marianne throwing a pillow at him.
‘But I do carve a mean turkey,’ said Gabriel, throwing her such a sexy look, she felt shivers up her spine. ‘Now, I think we’ve thought about other people quite enough for one night. It’s time to think about us.’
‘If you insist, Mr North,’ said Marianne, falling readily into his arms, ‘if you absolutely insist.’
‘Oh my word, would you look at the price of those shoes!’ Cat stood in front of a smart shop on the Champs Elysées. She had no intention of buying anything here – her purse not even stretching to a single shoe – but Mel had never been to Paris, and Cat felt duty bound to make it part of her fashion education. Although it was depressing watching smart elegant Parisian women traipsing along in their high heels, while she felt footsore and weary in her flats.
Cat glanced at Mel, looking casually trendy in jeans and baggy Hollister t-shirt, and not for the first time wished she was young again. Mel had made a bit more effort with her appearance today, and didn’t look as pale as she had done of late. She was a natural beauty. Cat felt a sudden stab of jealousy, followed immediately by guilt. What kind of a mother was jealous of her daughter? But sometimes, Cat couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Mel had it all before her; uni, boyfriends, career, family.
Oh stop, Cat said to herself, stop being such an old grump.
‘They are amazing though, aren’t they?’ said Mel, eyeing up a pair of incredibly high heeled red Jimmy Choos in the window. ‘I’d give anything for a pair.’
‘Well, get good grades, a good degree, a good job, never have children and maybe one day you’ll afford to buy them,’ laughed Cat.
‘Did you have to?’ Mel snapped.
‘Have to what?’ Cat was bewildered by the sudden change of mood. So far today, she and Mel had had a fun girlie day of the sort they hadn’t had in a long while.
‘Go on about exams,’ grumbled Mel. ‘I’ve got my results when we get back.’
‘Oh, those,’ said Cat. ‘Come on, hon. You’ve probably done better than you think. And if it does turn out to be bad news, there are always retakes. Nothing is impossible. And I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but really at your age, you do have plenty of time.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Mel replied sarcastically.
‘Mel, are you sure you’re okay?’ Once again, she felt Mel was excluding her somehow. Cat couldn’t escape a nagging doubt that there was something she was missing.
‘For the last time, Mum, nothing’s wrong,’ said Mel. ‘Do stop going on about it. Now come on, where can we go next?’
‘Do you fancy a trip to Montmartre?’ said Cat. ‘It’s so romantic. It’s one of my favourite spots in Paris. I’ll even buy you a really expensive cup of coffee.’
‘Sounds great,’ said Mel, who having done both French and Art GCSE, had previously expressed an interest in visiting the area to see the artists in action.
An hour later, having ambled happily through the cobbled streets, Cat and Mel found a café where Cat ordered coffee and hot chocolate for Mel. As they sat down, one of the street artists approached them and asked if he could draw their picture.
Cat would normally have said no, but Mel was clearly thrilled to be asked.
‘Oh please, Mummy, can we?’ Suddenly Cat was transported back ten years ago when those words were enough to pierce the most hardened of parental hearts. She thought of all the times she and Mum had come away together when she was young, and how she treasured the photos they had taken together. An actual portrait would be a special reminder of a lovely day with her daughter.
‘Oh go on then,’ she said. ‘You only live once.’
So they sat, leaning against one another in the afternoon sun, in the shadow of Sacré Coeur, while the artist captured their likeness in a few swift strokes. Just as Cat went to pay, the artist said, ‘Et pour la maman,’ and swiftly drew a miniature version of the pair of them. Cat tried to pay him extra, but he waved her away, saying, ‘La belle maman, la belle fille. C’est charmante.’
Cat rolled up the large version and put it in her rucksack, before tucking the smaller version in her purse.
‘What a hoot,’ she said. ‘See, I told you Montmartre was romantic.’
‘That was amazing,’ agreed Mel. ‘I can’t believe he did such a great picture of us.’
‘Don’t tell Dad how much it cost,’ said Cat.
‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ laughed Mel, and Cat sat back feeling relaxed and happy. For the first time in a long while, she felt as though she had her daughter back.
‘So how are you finding things, Dan?’ Mr Sheen the neurologist looked at him sympathetically and smiled comfortingly at Pippa.
Pippa loved coming in to see Mr Sheen. In the last few months since Dan’s accident, he seemed to be the one person who she felt she could utterly rely on for common sense and good advice. He was so calm and unflappable. She felt like she was in a big soothing bath when in his presence. He seemed to wash all her troubles and fears away. And the good thing was Dan usually listened to what Mr Sheen had to say, something he had more or less given up doing with her when it came to his health.
Pippa looked at Dan expectantly. He always looked awkward in Mr Sheen’s office. He was so tall and broad shouldered, the uncomfortable plastic NHS chairs were too small for him, and now he was physically better at least, he looked so out of place there.
Pippa had fully expected Dan to gloss over things; in previous visits, he’d always put a brave face and positive spin on any problems they were having. But to her surprise, he blurted out, ‘Not that great actually. I mean, I’m fine. Of course I am. But every time I go on the field, I feel sick and dizzy. I get terrible flashbacks and feel rigid with terror. It’s pathetic I know. And it makes me so angry with myself. I’m no bloody use to anyone in this state.’
Oh God. Pippa had had no idea that he was feeling like that. She leant over and held his hand. To her relief, he didn’t push her away.
‘And when you get angry …?’ Mr Sheen prompted gently.
‘I lash out,’ said Dan, looking ashamed. ‘At Pippa. At the boys. Christ, even at Lucy. I can’t explain it. It’s just this … this rage. It comes out of nowhere. I can’t seem to do anything
about it. I don’t even know what I’m raging about.’
‘I see,’ said Mr Sheen. ‘And Pippa, what do you feel about it?’
‘I’d agree with Dan,’ Pippa said. ‘I didn’t know he was getting flashbacks, you didn’t say,’ she said, turning to Dan, ‘but he does get terrible mood swings. He never used to have them, before the accident.’
‘Well let me reassure you, that this is perfectly normal,’ said Mr Sheen. ‘Your brain has been through quite a trauma, and despite your brilliant progress over the last few months, you’re not out of the woods yet.’
‘And what about the anger I feel?’ said Dan.
‘It is possible that you’ve undergone something of a personality change, hence the rages.’
‘You mean, this – this could be permanent?’ Dan looked horrified.
‘It could be,’ said Mr Sheen, ‘but it might not. I’m going to send you for another MRI scan, just to see if there are any substantive changes. And I think you should go back on the antidepressants you were taking in hospital. I’m also going to suggest you have some counselling for your PTSD.’
‘What?’ said Pippa. ‘I thought only soldiers suffered from post-traumatic stress.’
‘Anyone who’s been through trauma can suffer from it,’ said Mr Sheen. ‘Dan here has had a very nasty and unnerving experience. In the first euphoria of him surviving the accident, it’s possible none of you took on board the horror of what Dan’s been through. I can prescribe some stronger sleeping tablets to help the nightmares, if you like.’
‘Thanks,’ said Dan. ‘That would be great.’
‘You’ve a long way to go, Dan, but you will get there in the end, especially with Pippa’s help,’ said Mr Sheen. ‘Your support is going to be crucial, Pippa, but I’m sure you know that anyway.’
‘Of course,’ said Pippa, but her heart sank at the thought. Dan needed her, of course he did. But who was going to support her?
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘So, big day, today,’ Noel said cheerfully, as Mel came downstairs uncharacteristically early. Her face looked thin, but Noel was right, she was putting on weight. God, Cat had a sudden worrying thought – despite her denials, could Mel be pregnant? Although Cat knew she’d had her period recently. Maybe it was just too much sitting around since she hadn’t been at school that was causing the weight gain. Now wasn’t the time to ask; Mel seemed preoccupied and barely responded to Noel. She looked pale and peaky, and actually quite nervous.
‘Do you want me to drive you into school?’ offered Cat, thinking it might help.
‘Nah, it’s okay,’ said Mel, ‘I’m getting the bus with Karen.’
‘Resits, resits,’ called James from the lounge.
‘Not helpful, James,’ said Cat.
‘What are resits?’ asked Ruby.
‘What Mel’s going to be doing,’ said James.
‘Yes, but what are they?’ asked Ruby.
‘Taking exams again, because you’ve failed them, for retards like Mel who don’t do any work,’ said James.
‘Don’t say retard,’ said Cat automatically. ‘And don’t be mean to your sister. That’ll be you in two years’ time. And from what I’ve seen so far of your efforts at school, you don’t have anything to boast about, buster.’
As far as Cat could tell James would happily go to school and play football all day long, never seemed to have any homework, and managed to somehow produce good grades by the skin of his teeth. But even he would have to learn what hard work was once the GCSE courses started. The trouble was, the success of the latest cookbook had made him think exams weren’t all that vital to success. Which was partly true, of course.
‘I did work, actually,’ said Mel, shooting James a filthy look, but otherwise being uncharacteristically quiet.
‘Best of luck, sweetheart,’ said Cat giving her a hug. ‘Whatever happens, it doesn’t matter, Dad and I will support you.’
‘Thanks,’ said Mel, looking faintly surprised.
‘So you’re going to be taking her down the dole office happily, are you?’ said Noel, after she’d gone.
‘I don’t think it’s that bad,’ said Cat. ‘But what was I meant to say? We know she could have worked harder, so there’s no point getting upset about it now. We just need to focus on getting it right next time.’
‘It would be better if she hasn’t cocked it up in the first place,’ said Noel.
‘True,’ said Cat. ‘And maybe we’re being unfair on her. Maybe she did more work than we give her credit for. But if she has cocked up, we just have to deal with it.’
The morning seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly. This was worse than waiting for her own exam results, Cat decided. To while away the time, and resist the urge to ring Mel up, she chivvied James into the kitchen, where they got to work on a batch of new recipes for Jamie’s Top Tips for Hungry Teens 2, the latest project James had been signed up for. James was particularly keen to try out a new curry recipe he’d come up with.
Mel eventually mooched back in, looking just as moody as when she went out. Great. How bad was it going to be?
‘Well? The suspense is killing me,’ said Cat. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, you could have rung.
‘It’s not great …’ said Mel, ‘but …’
‘Okay,’ said Cat with a heavy sigh, ‘how many retakes?’
‘None,’ said Mel.
‘None? What do you mean none?’ said Cat. ‘You must have to retake at least one.’
‘Gee thanks, Mum,’ said Mel. ‘I don’t need to do any retakes – because I passed them all.’
‘What?’ Cat let out a whoop of delight. ‘Mel, that’s fantastic. So what did you get?’
‘Three A*s, Four As and Three Bs,’ said Mel triumphantly. ‘What do you think of that?’
‘Bloody amazing is what I think of that,’ said Cat, privately breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Fantastic news.’
Thank goodness for that. Mel hadn’t cocked up her exams. One thing less to worry about. Finally, she had a reason to be proud of her daughter.
Dan was sitting in the lounge with Lucy, who was reading a book, staring out at the view. The lounge looked onto their fields, with the hills in the background. On a day like today, it was glorious to behold. The heather cut dashes of pink and purple on the hills, contrasting with the bright yellow of the broom, and the green fronds of the bracken. And Dan seemed to have the ability to stare out at it for hours. Anything rather than work on his farm. Pippa would have loved to have sat down and stared with him, but she, unfortunately, didn’t have that luxury.
Pippa had tried cajoling and pleading, but it was no good. Dan wouldn’t be budged. Neither would he contemplate the counselling suggested by Mr Sheen, brushing off Pippa’s suggestion that it might actually be a good idea. The strain of trying to support him, the family and the farm was beginning to tell. She felt in a permanent state of exhaustion, and worse still, she was beginning to resent Dan’s attitude. If it hadn’t been for Lucy, Pippa might have felt like giving up. Somehow, Lucy always knew how to cheer Pippa up, with a beaming smile or making a sly joke about Dan’s laziness, to which he responded with a rueful smile – the only one in the family who could still manage to bring him out of himself. Thankfully, Dan had for the most part retained his special bond with Lucy, and for that Pippa was immensely grateful.
Pippa would have given her right arm to sit down and be waited on, but that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. So she resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment to Dan and instead started to clear up around him.
Dan made no move to help, or even acknowledge she was there. She sighed with frustration. What on earth could she do to change things? It was all very well for Mr Sheen, telling them both to be patient, but he wasn’t living with it, and every day seemed to be getting worse, not better.
‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’ Dan suddenly said.
‘What did your last slave die of?’ snapped Pippa.
‘There’s no need
to be so touchy,’ said Dan. ‘I only asked.’
‘And I’m too busy at the moment,’ said Pippa. ‘It would be really nice if you made me a cup of tea for a change. Or cleared up the mess you’ve made in here. I know you’re ill, Dan, but you could occasionally stir yourself out of that chair and do things for yourself!’
Time out you two! Lucy typed and then clapped her hands – a gesture Pippa used when the boys were fighting.
‘Oh,’ Dan looked stricken and she automatically felt guilty. ‘I’m so sorry, Pippa. I hadn’t realised. I’m being a sod again, aren’t I?’
Yes, typed Lucy disapprovingly.
‘You are a bit,’ Pippa said weakly.
Give her a kiss, typed Lucy.
‘Right,’ said Dan, and pecked Pippa on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry. You’ve been so fantastic. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Here, why don’t you sit down while I make the tea?’
Pippa was mollified. It was the sort of thing Dan would have automatically done in the past.
‘Thanks,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry. I’m turning into a bad-tempered old bag. I’m just so tired all the time.’
‘No, I should be sorry,’ said Dan. ‘I don’t mean to be a selfish git. Go on, put your feet up for five minutes, and I’ll sort the tea.’
That’s better, typed Lucy, smiling.
Pippa sank down into the sofa for five minutes and shut her eyes gratefully. In seconds, she was asleep.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’
Pippa came to with a start, as she heard something smash on the floor. Dan was standing in the doorway looking furiously at the contents of the tray he had been holding, which had spilt out all over the floor.
‘I can’t even manage to bring you a cup of tea,’ said Dan. ‘I’m worse than useless to you!’
‘Dan,’ said Pippa in dismay, but he’d stormed out in a fury.
So much for putting your feet up, typed Lucy, and reached out and squeezed her mum’s hand.
Pippa smiled ruefully and picked up the mess. At least he’d tried. That was something, she supposed.
A Merry Little Christmas Page 19