A Merry Little Christmas

by Julia Williams

  ‘It sounds like heaven,’ said Marcus. ‘You know we could always stay in a local hotel, so that things don’t get awkward. What do you think, Matt?’

  ‘Oh go on,’ said Marianne, ‘we’d love to have you.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Matt, after Marcus had threatened to leave him if they didn’t come, ‘you’re on.’

  ‘Brill,’ said Marianne. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  ‘Regret what?’ said Gabriel, who’d just come in from work.

  ‘Christmas here,’ said Marianne. ‘Matt and Marcus are going to come too, isn’t that nice?’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Gabriel. ‘So, hang on, that’s you, me, your mum and dad, the twins, Steven, my mum and dad, and now these two. That’s eleven. And wasn’t your Auntie Mags coming too? Do you think you can cope with that many?’

  ‘Auntie Mags had other arrangements, thankfully,’ said Marianne, ‘but really I don’t mind how many people come. It’s our first proper Christmas in our family home, and I want it to be perfect.’

  Cat was also deeply into Christmas, but not planning her own. She was caught up in a whirl of PR to publicise both the book and TV programme of Cat’s Country Christmas, now available at all good bookshops. The online recipes she’d released for Christmas cake and pudding were going down a storm apparently. There had been so much buzz about this book, as well as more interest in James, who’d finally produced (or rather Cat had produced for him) Top Tips for Hungry Teens 2, that she was run off her feet writing articles, doing blog posts, and even being whisked down to London for the odd interview. It was so manic, Cat had had relatively little time to think about anything; not about Mum, or Mel, or the baby she herself had lost, which she supposed was a good thing. If she thought too much about things, Cat reflected, she might just snap in two.

  Everyone else seemed to be dealing with Mel’s pregnancy so much better than her. Noel, to her amazement, apart from showing a very natural tendency to want to kill the still as-yet-unnamed dad, seemed to be taking it in his stride.

  ‘The deed’s done now,’ he pointed out (far too reasonably for Cat), ‘there’s no point crying over spilt milk, we need to think about what happens next.’

  Given that Mel had refused point blank to discuss an abortion, and it was probably too late anyway, Cat knew Noel was right, but she felt so churned up about it all she couldn’t bring herself to agree with him, and instead buried her head in the sand, wishing this was happening to some other family. She was even ignoring the inevitable tittle tattle in the red tops about her failings as a mother.

  James in the meantime was disregarding the whole thing, clearly mortified that his sister was ‘up the duff’ as he so elegantly put it, while Paige was already fantasising about being an auntie (not the response Cat was hoping for), and Ruby insisted on asking if Mel was going to dump the baby in the dustbin, like in the Jacqueline Wilson book.

  The only person who seemed as upset about the whole thing as Cat was, was Noel’s mum, Angela. Although that didn’t help much. They’d moved a long way in the last few years from Angela being Granny Nightmare, but she was bristling with a disapproval that she’d clearly been holding back at the funeral. Angela was very correct, and would never dream of airing the family’s dirty laundry in public, but she had been more forthright on the phone to Noel and he’d put the phone down on her several times.

  ‘Mum, will you just leave it!’ Noel had said sharply at the end of their last conversation. ‘Mel’s our daughter and we’re still proud of her, whatever happens.’

  Cat felt slightly ashamed that Noel was prepared to stand up for Mel, and she wasn’t. She wished she could support her daughter more, but she just couldn’t.

  The trouble was, and she had difficulty admitting this to herself, a nasty weaselly, selfish part of her was jealous of Mel. Jealous of her youth, beauty, her future (now royally screwed up) and yes, her fertility. Logically, Cat knew that there would be no more babies for her and Noel. They were too old, she hadn’t the energy, and it wouldn’t be right. And she’d accepted it, really she had, but seeing her daughter’s pregnancy unfold before her was like adding salt to the wound. Cat couldn’t help feeling jealous and angry. She fought against it, and would never have admitted it to anyone, but there it was. She was a lousy selfish mother, and now in place of the loving, sharing mother/daughter relationship she’d always longed for, there was bitterness and suspicion. Now more than ever, with Louise’s death, Cat missed the sort of relationship she and Mel could have had. Mel never confided in her anymore, choosing to spend as much time as possible at Karen’s house. It was breaking Cat’s heart, but she only had herself to blame.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘I thought you’d said no to helping with the nativity this year,’ said Gabriel, as he walked into the kitchen to find Marianne knee deep in piles of Christmas carols and nativity plays. It was a cold autumnal night, and he’d been out checking on the newly pregnant ewes. The twins were in bed, and Steven was at Eve’s so they had the evening to themselves.

  ‘Yes, well that was before the entire Parish Council begged me to do it,’ said Marianne, ‘apparently Diana has been making noises about getting involved again, but Michael Nicholas, who’s the Chair at the moment, has tactfully asked her if she’ll arrange a charity carol concert at Hopesay Manor instead. Mrs Garratt had suggested again that Ali Strickland take it on, as a way to get her more involved in the community. So guess who drew the short straw?’

  Marianne had finally made her decision and handed in her notice. Ali Strickland already looked like the cat had got the cream, the last thing she wanted to do was let her take over the nativity as well.

  ‘Lucky old you,’ said Gabriel. ‘I suppose that means you’ve no time to cuddle up with your old man on the sofa this evening?’

  ‘Give me ten minutes,’ said Marianne. ‘I’m nearly done for now. I just like making things a little different each time. Do you know, I’d love one year to have a real donkey and a real baby.’

  ‘One, they say never work with children and animals,’ said Gabriel, ‘and two, Hopesay chapel’s not that big.’

  ‘True,’ said Marianne. Ever since she’d organised her first Hope Christmas nativity four years ago, it had been held on Christmas Eve in Hopesay Manor chapel, which probably wasn’t the best place to introduce animals. Or a baby for that matter. It was freezing.

  ‘We could always make it bigger,’ said Marianne, ‘our audience is growing, and the chapel is really tiny. I wonder if Michael would let us use one of the barns.’

  ‘Yeah, and get Mel Tinsall to play Mary, while you’re about it,’ said Gabriel mischievously.

  ‘I don’t think Cat would ever forgive me if I did that,’ said Marianne, ‘she’s really not at all happy about being a granny.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame her,’ said Gabriel. ‘Thank God we only have one girl to worry about.’

  ‘Don’t be so sexist. Who’s to say Steven won’t get a girl pregnant?’ said Marianne. Although, the thought of Steven being old enough to even kiss a girl seemed quite preposterous enough at the moment. She couldn’t ever imagine him being able to father babies.

  ‘Don’t,’ shuddered Gabriel.

  They sat in front of the roaring fire, drinking wine and watching the flames dance. It was a rare event, them having time together of an evening, just the two of them, sitting together cosily, warm and safe in each other’s arms.

  ‘We’re so lucky, aren’t we?’ said Marianne, cuddling up to him some more.

  ‘I’ll say,’ said Gabriel, kissing the top of her head. ‘If only Steven were here all the time, life would be perfect.’

  Marianne squeezed his hand. ‘At least he’s coming home this weekend,’ she said. ‘And before you know it, it will be Christmas, and he’ll be home for a lovely long time.’

  ‘That’s something to look forward to I suppose,’ said Gabriel.

  ‘Too right it is. I can’t wait,’ said Marianne. ‘It will be lovely to have everyon
e here.’

  ‘Provided you don’t take on any more waifs and strays,’ laughed Gabriel. ‘We’re going to run out of room.’

  ‘It’ll be fine if we extend our table through to the conservatory,’ said Marianne, ‘Mum and Dad can have the spare room, your mum and dad can go home. Marcus and Matt are staying at the Hopesay Arms. There’ll be plenty of room for everyone. It will be fun.’

  ‘I do hope you’re right,’ said Gabriel.

  ‘I’m always right,’ said Marianne. ‘This is going to be a great Christmas. I can feel it in my waters.’

  Cat was in Shrewsbury, Christmas shopping. Normally she liked to get some done by October, but this year, what with losing Louise, and the shock of Mel’s pregnancy, she’d lost her shopping mojo and was really behind. So she’d taken advantage of a rare day off to sneak out and start perusing.

  She mooched about idly for a bit. The shops were full of people like her, hesitant, not quite sure what to get, and not yet desperate enough to buy anything at random. It was a frustrating process; she didn’t quite feel ready yet to commit herself to any particular purchase. Should she really get Noel a day out racing cars? Or would he prefer her to spend her money more wisely? And which PlayStation game was it that James wanted? Was it Death and Destruction 3 or had the fourth one come out? James inconveniently didn’t write Christmas lists anymore, so she was supposed to guess by telepathy what he wanted. Which was why last year she had bought him a PlayStation game that was apparently a year out of date, and a football kit which was two seasons old. How she was supposed to work such things out, she had no idea. Paige’s list on the other hand was deeply materialistic and consisted mainly of make-up and items of clothing from Hollister and Jack Wills, while Ruby had started writing hers on the first day of September and added to it on a daily basis. Her list was now so long that Cat was beginning to think she’d need to take out a second mortgage to pay for it.

  Mel hadn’t written a list. She had turned up one day out of the blue, stating baldly that she thought she’d better come home. After a day-long shouting match between Mel and her parents, in which Mel had finally admitted Andy Pilsdon was the father of her baby, leading Noel to leap in the car driving round Hope Christmas looking for him (and fortunately not succeeding), things had calmed down.

  But now they were coexisting in a state of mutually ignoring one another, which was even worse. Apart from taking Mel to her ante-natal checkups, the baby was scarcely mentioned. Mel was going to school as if nothing had altered at all, and apart from her burgeoning shape, it would have been quite possible for Cat to have thought she’d dreamt the whole thing. Mel was even working quite hard, but Cat still had to tread on eggshells round her. One day Cat hoped they might start to have some kind of reasonable adult relationship, but it certainly wasn’t going to be any day soon.

  ‘You could always make the first move,’ a voice behind her said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Cat. She turned round to see Michael Nicholas, laden down with shopping bags. He looked terribly incongruous in Sainsbury’s. He wasn’t the sort of person you imagined doing the weekly shop.

  ‘With your daughter,’ he said. ‘You’re the grown-up, she needs you.’

  Cat felt herself bristle at the unwanted interference.

  ‘I know, you think it has nothing to do with me. But I’m still right,’ said Michael.

  It had been on the tip of her tongue to say it. How did he do that exactly? Just like his uncle Ralph, Michael had the uncanny knack of honing in what you were thinking.

  And she was miffed that he felt the need to give her advice. What did he know about it? But then she stopped herself. He was probably only trying to help and God knew, she needed help.

  Instead of biting his head off, Cat said shamefacedly, ‘I know. I wish I could be better about it, but I feel so messed up. I just don’t know how to react. I know I’m not being a great mum at the moment.’

  ‘Talk to her, Cat,’ urged Michael. ‘It can’t hurt, and who knows, it might even help.’

  ‘Is Dad ever going to be well enough to come home?’ Nathan’s question took Pippa by surprise. The boys had seemed to adapt readily to the new arrangements – partly, she realised with a pang, because they had grown so wary of their dad.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Pippa, ‘I really hope so. You do know it’s not Dad’s fault he’s changed, don’t you?’

  ‘I know,’ said Nathan, his face screwing up. ‘I wish he was the way he used to be. I wish the accident hadn’t happened.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Pippa, hugging her son fiercely. ‘But it did happen and we just have to make the best of it. Dad still loves all three of you, that hasn’t changed. We just need to give him time, and it will be okay, you’ll see.’

  But even as she said it, she felt her shoulders sag. Dan did seem a little better, it was true, but he was nowhere near ready enough to come home, and Pippa missed him every day. Getting the kids sorted, taking Lucy out, managing the day to day was getting harder and harder to do. Even Lucy’s cheerful determination was no help. Pippa could feel herself sinking under the weight of her problems. She’d lost weight, and every time she looked in the mirror and saw the pale waiflike figure she’d become, she didn’t recognise herself. If it hadn’t been for Gabe and Marianne, and the support her parents were giving her, she didn’t think she’d be able to cope.

  At the end of the year it was looking like Lucy’s respite care package would finally be over. Pippa’s campaign had done nothing to stop it. Despite the widespread interest, no one had come forward to help in the way that Pippa had hoped. Much to her disappointment, Richard La Fontaine had so far not come up with the goods. He was still in discussions with people in his firm, but she was losing hope that he would be able to help after all. Her last chance was to drum up interest was at the Snow Ball in a few weeks’ time, otherwise she was going to have to admit defeat. It was going to take a miracle to save the respite services. And miracles didn’t happen in real life.

  ‘Mum! Phone for you,’ Nathan handed her the phone, shaking her out of her gloom.

  ‘Is that Pippa Holliday?’ An unfamiliar voice was on the other end of the line.

  ‘Yes,’ said Pippa, ‘can I help?’

  ‘My name’s Aaron Jones and I’m a production assistant for Red Crews Production.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I believe you’re running the campaign to keep the Sunshine Trust open?’

  ‘Yes that’s right,’ said Pippa. ‘Much good we’re doing though.’

  ‘We’ve just had the green light to go ahead with a documentary about it. I wondered if you’d like to be interviewed for the programme?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Pippa. ‘But it’s really the work of the centre I want to highlight, and how they help families like mine. It’s not about me.’

  ‘And how do they help you?’

  ‘First off, we get a weekend off every fortnight – although thanks to the cuts it’s now down to one a month, and soon it will be gone altogether – which allows us to spend time with our two sons and gives me a break.’

  ‘And why do you need the break?’

  ‘My daughter has cystic fibrosis and needs constant care,’ explained Pippa. ‘I adore her, of course I do, but looking after Lucy 24/7 is exhausting, so the respite care is vital. What’s so short sighted is that they’re taking these services away without realising how much more it would cost to pay for the likes of me being hospitalised with nervous breakdowns. The respite care keeps me sane.’

  ‘And your husband? How does he feel about it?’

  Pippa paused, not sure what to say.

  ‘He’s not with us at the moment,’ she said, ‘but he fully supports the work the centre do.’

  ‘May I speak with him?’

  ‘I’d have to check,’ said Pippa, thinking it was probably the last thing Dan wanted.

  Having gone through a few more questions, the production assistant promised to ring back with a date for the
TV interview.

  ‘We’d like to interview you at home and film you with Lucy and the boys, if that’s okay?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ agreed Pippa, who was thrilled that at last the TV was going ahead. Maybe someone would see it, and come to their aid. She sincerely hoped so.

  She rang Dan as soon as she’d got off the phone to check he had no objections.

  ‘None at all,’ he said, ‘so long as they don’t interview me.’

  Pippa laughed. That was more like the old Dan, who was notoriously shy.

  ‘It’s all right, we don’t have to mention you at all if you like,’ said Pippa. ‘I told them you didn’t live here.’

  There was a pause, and Pippa suddenly realised she’d said the wrong thing.

  ‘I mean, I know it’s not permanent,’ she gabbled, ‘I just didn’t know what to say.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Dan said and changed the subject. ‘Shall I take the boys to football on Saturday?’

  ‘Yes, that would be great, thanks.’

  Pippa put the phone down with a heavy heart. ‘That would be great, thanks.’ She mimicked herself. Of course it wasn’t great. It was utter pants was what it was – to politely arrange for her estranged husband to come and pick up their children at the weekend. She’d never ever imagined that it would happen to her. And now it had.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Of course you can use the old stables at Hopesay Manor,’ Michael said to Marianne, when she rang up to ask. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea. We don’t unfortunately have any donkeys on the estate, but I’m sure we can find a calf or two.’

  ‘It’s okay. Don’t laugh, but I think I’ve sourced a donkey,’ said Marianne. ‘It turns out Diana Carew is a patron of a donkey sanctuary over in Hope Sadler. Now all we need is a newborn baby and it will be really authentic.’

  It crossed her mind that Gabriel might have a point. If she wasn’t casting children for this nativity, it would have been perfect to have Mel Tinsall in the starring role.