Sam smiled. ‘Come in, Jeff. Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas, Sam,’ he returned as Ellie dragged him inside.
She stood back as the kids showed off their booty to their father and he made all the right noises. Sam looked at her three beautiful children and her heart filled. The older two were all kitted out in their new clothes. Joshua was dressed head to toe in heavily labelled skate gear, large enough to fit someone twice his size, but with his height and his shock of blond hair, he could carry it off.
Jessica unfortunately looked like a prostitute. Sam knew as soon as that thought entered her head that she was channelling Bernice; however, she did worry that there was too much make-up and too much skin showing. But Jess was young and gorgeous and enviably firm, and Sam thought what the heck, why shouldn’t she flaunt it? It wouldn’t be long before she’d be so obsessed with what was wrong with her that she’d never be so carefree again.
And Ellie looked like a little angel. Sam had paid way too much for a totally impractical but stunning white dress with gold stars dotted around the yoke. She knew Ellie would barely get any wear of it outside of this Christmas, but she couldn’t resist. Oh well. Maybe Jeff would have a girl and they could pass it on to her.
Whoa! That thought certainly snuck up on her.
‘We should get going,’ Jeff said tentatively, glancing in Sam’s direction.
‘Of course. Go get your things, kids,’ Sam prompted them. She went to the hall cupboard where she had stored the bags of carefully selected, beautifully wrapped presents she had bought for everyone in Jeff’s family. She probably should have left it to him, but she had always done it, and she still wanted to have some kind of presence as the children’s mother. She wanted them to know that she was coping, that her children were doing fine and that she could still manage everything as before. It was probably pathetic or ridiculous. It was probably both of those things.
But she had drawn the line at buying something for Jodi. Sam had made an offhand but well-placed remark to Jessica that perhaps they should shop with their father for Jodi’s gift, he would know what she wanted. That was the best she could do.
‘Mummy, can I bring the postcards from Zoey to show everybody?’ Ellie was asking.
‘Of course you can, sweetheart. They’re on the fridge.’ A different postcard had arrived on the three consecutive days leading up to Christmas. Zoey at the Empire State Building, at the Statue of Liberty and at Central Park. She certainly got around. Ellie was thrilled, and Sam was not a little chuffed herself.
She walked her family out the front door and stood on the verandah to say goodbye. Ellie gave her mother a huge hug, but the others went to walk past.
‘Excuse me,’ Sam admonished good-naturedly. ‘Hugs are compulsory on Christmas Day, it’s the law.’
Jess pulled a face that combined eye-rolling with a resigned grin, and leaned forward to kiss her mother, squeezing her briefly. ‘See ya Mum.’
Sam looked up at Josh who was considering her with a twinkle in his eye. Before she knew what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. Sam shrieked.
‘Merry Christmas, Mum,’ he said, settling her back down again. She smiled, watching him leap up the steps to the footpath to catch up with his sisters.
‘Thanks for this, Sam,’ Jeff said seriously. ‘Mum and Dad said to say thank you as well.’
Wonders never cease. Sam shrugged. Jeff seemed hesitant. She’d better give him permission to go.
‘I’ll see you in a couple of days,’ she said lightly.
‘Right, okay.’ And then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Merry Christmas, Sam.’
She mumbled the same back and he turned to join the kids. They were just climbing in the car when Sam heard Ellie cry out, ‘Hi Jodi! Merry Christmas!’
Sam froze. Shit! Jodi had been sitting in the car this whole time. Of course she would be, Jeff had said he’d need to leave at eleven to make it to his parents’ in time for lunch. He wouldn’t want to have to cross the city again to go back for her. Sam supposed that was why he had not parked directly in front of the house. She could make out a figure in the front seat, but she was relieved she couldn’t see her clearly. Sam knew she was going to have to face meeting her one day. But not today. Not Christmas Day.
Sam went inside and closed the door behind her. It wasn’t Christmas Day, it was Tuesday, and the bathroom needed cleaning.
By five that afternoon Sam had cleaned the entire house. Her hands were withered and waterlogged, and the house smelled of disinfectant and furniture polish. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want to stop. She had to keep occupied. If she turned on the television it would be wall-to-wall, Very-Brady-Christmas type schmaltz which, although nauseating, would probably have her in tears before long.
Sam remembered she hadn’t checked her emails this week. That was a very un-Christmas type of activity. She made a cup of coffee and carried it to the computer, opened the program and clicked on Check Mail. After a moment the box appeared announcing she had new mail. Sam liked that little box. But her heart missed a beat when she saw ‘Hal Buchanan’ next to the subject ‘Merry Christmas’. Sam felt her hand trembling as she clicked on his name. Just three words appeared.
I miss you.
Sam drew her breath in sharply and tried to suppress the lump in her throat. But it was no use. Her face crumpled and the tears flowed. She was crying because it was Christmas Day and her children weren’t with her, because her estranged husband had kissed her on the cheek while his pregnant partner sat in the car, because she’d never had Christmas away from her mother and her sisters, and because this lovely man, who was all the way across the other side of the world, had thought of her today.
A knock on the door made her jump. She grabbed some tissues, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. When she opened the door, Max was standing there smiling, a bottle in one hand and a Tupperware container in the other.
‘So, has he jumped off the bridge yet?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘Jimmy Stewart. Aren’t you watching It’s a Wonderful Life?’
‘I didn’t know it was on.’
‘Sherl, you’re the only person I know who has their own copy of that movie,’ she said, walking past her into the house. ‘Come on, let’s put it on. It’s Christmas.’
‘The idea was to try to forget it’s Christmas, remember?’ Sam answered as Max thrust the bottle and the container into her hands.
‘As if!’ she exclaimed, searching through the row of video tapes. ‘You can take the girl out of Christmas, but you can’t take Christmas out of the girl.’
Sam smiled weakly.
Max looked around at her. ‘Have you been crying?’
She swallowed. ‘A little.’
‘Why?’
‘I got an email from Hal –’ To Sam’s own surprise, her voice broke and she started to sob.
‘Sherl,’ Max exclaimed, putting her arms around her. ‘What did he say?’
‘He said he missed me,’ she wailed.
Max held her by the shoulders. ‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’
Sam nodded. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
‘You’ve been sitting here alone on Christmas Day getting miserable, that’s what’s wrong with you. What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Housework.’
‘Well, that’s just sick,’ said Maxine, turning up her nose. ‘No wonder you’re depressed. But it’s not too late to salvage the day.’ She took the bottle back from Sam. ‘Look, it’s the customary bottle of Baileys from Aunty Gwen, and there’s plum pudding in that container.’
Sam eyed her. ‘Did Mum send this?’
‘No, I had to mount a covert operation to smuggle it out.’
Sam followed Max into the kitchen. ‘She hates me, doesn’t she?’ she asked.
Max shrugged, taking glasses down from the cupboard. ‘She’ll get over it.’
/> Sam opened the container. ‘Yum, you even remembered the custard.’
They were halfway through the movie and further through the bottle when there was another knock at the door.
‘Who do you reckon that’ll be?’ said Max, not moving.
Sam hauled herself up off the sofa. ‘Only one way to find out,’ she said, walking towards the door.
‘Merry Christmas Sam.’
‘Alex! What are you doing here?’
‘You know what they say. If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain . . .’
Sam beamed, throwing her arms around her sister, before she remembered that close physical contact was not really Alex’s thing. She blamed her lack of inhibition on the Baileys, though it occurred to her that Alex didn’t recoil.
‘Come in,’ Sam said, showing her into the room. ‘You’re on your own?’
Alex nodded. ‘I left Gordon and Isabella to clean up with Mum. He’s a lot more patient than I am. Here, I brought my bottle of Baileys from Aunty Gwen.’
‘Yay!’ said Max. ‘We were getting low. I’ll get you a glass.’
Alex’s lip curled slightly. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Oh, come on, it won’t kill you, Alex,’ Max said, walking out to the kitchen. ‘
The house is charming, Sam,’ Alex declared, glancing around.
Sam looked at her dubiously. ‘You reckon?’
‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think so,’ she said archly. ‘It’s much more you than that other big show-place you were living in.’
‘What do you mean, much more “me”?’
‘Warm, friendly, homely. That kind of thing.’
‘I’m homely?’
‘In a good way,’ she dismissed. ‘Now, I told Mum to get off your back and to think about giving you a hand once in a while.’
‘You did?’
‘I explained to her that you’re on your own and you need her support. She harped on as usual about how she had no such help, and I reminded her who cared for us every school holiday. They may barely have been speaking to her, but Nan and Pop still did the right thing by us.’
‘What did she say to that?’
‘Nothing of course. What could she say?’
‘Well, I’m going to see her tomorrow, I never intended to make it a cold war.’
‘Just don’t give up any of the ground you’ve gained, Sam.’
‘Okay,’ she murmured.
Max returned with a glass for Alex. ‘I was trying to think of the last time we were all together like this. Just the three of us,’ she said.
They fell silent, dredging through their memories. Sam had the feeling they’d never been alone, just the three of them.
‘I think we should make a toast,’ she said, picking up her glass.
‘I thought you were sick of toasts?’ said Max.
‘This one is special,’ Sam insisted. ‘To my sisters. For always being there for me, each in your own way. I’m so glad you’re in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ she finished, sniffing.
‘It’s the alcohol,’ Max nodded at Alex. ‘Makes her a bit cheesy.’
They clinked glasses. Alex took a tentative sip of her drink. ‘I suppose it’s not too bad with ice.’
‘Take a seat,’ Sam said.
‘Oh, you’re watching this,’ said Alex, noticing the television. There was an uncharacteristic softness in her voice. ‘I love this movie.’
‘Do you?’ Sam wouldn’t have thought that such an unashamedly sentimental movie would be quite to her sister’s taste. But then, how much did she really know about Alex anyway? ‘We could rewind it to the beginning if you like,’ Sam offered.
‘No, this is my favourite part.’ She settled back into her chair. ‘Imagine, seeing what the world would be like if you’d never been born.’ She stared at the screen, taking a long sip from her glass.
‘Our dear departed father might have stayed around, I guess,’ Max suggested.
‘You didn’t fall for that line, did you?’ Alex raised an eyebrow.
Sam and Max looked at her.
‘I don’t believe Dad left because of us. Nothing’s ever that simple, is it, Sam?’ she said pointedly. ‘It was just a convenient excuse.’
‘Why did he need to bother with an excuse? He never came back,’ said Max.
‘No, I meant it was an excuse for Mum.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I think that in order to cope, to save face, she had to find a reason that had nothing to do with her, that wasn’t her fault and that would put all the blame squarely on Dad’s shoulders.’ Alex paused. ‘She was devastated when he left, you girls were probably too young to remember. So she’s spent a lifetime loudly protesting that she was wronged by a no-good man, to make herself feel better. The irony is, it didn’t work.’ Alex paused to drain her glass. ‘And look at the effect it’s had on us. How were we ever supposed to feel okay about ourselves? Little wonder I married a father figure.’
‘I knew it!’ Max exclaimed.
‘Don’t get me wrong. I love Gordon very deeply. He’s a good man, and devoted.’ Alex reached for the bottle and topped up her glass. ‘Samantha, you married when you were barely out of school, rushed into playing happy families and treated your own male child like he was some kind of trophy.’
‘Did I?
‘You did,’ they said in unison.
‘Sorry about that.’
‘What about me?’ said Max.
‘Isn’t it obvious? You choose men that you could never take seriously because you don’t want to get serious. You use them like playthings, no commitment, no attachment, because you wouldn’t dare risk someone abandoning you.’
Max frowned at her. ‘Did you ever do psychology?’
Alex smiled. ‘I didn’t need to. You can read us like a children’s book. A line drawing and a handful of words on a page.’
Max and Sam sat suitably chastened. They both reached for the bottle at the same time.
‘What if we had been born boys?’ Sam mused while Max refilled their glasses. ‘I wonder what our lives would have been like then?’
‘I think I would have been gay,’ Max decided.
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t imagine being attracted to women in that way.’
Sam grinned, shaking her head. ‘I wonder if I would have been more independent? Waited a bit before getting married. I don’t think boys have the same dreams about growing up to become a husband, do they?’ she sighed. ‘What about you, Alex? How do you think life would have turned out for you if you had been born a man instead of a woman?’
She considered the question. ‘Well, I’m in senior management with a global organisation. As we speak, my spouse is back at my mother’s house with our child, washing dishes. And I’m here having a drink with you two, who would have been my brothers.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘I think my life would probably be exactly the same if I were a man.’
Max and Sam hesitated for a moment. They weren’t certain, but it sounded like Alex was making a joke. They both looked at her and saw the smile in her eyes, before all three of them burst into laughter.
When Sam waved her sisters off it was after eleven. She was agreeably tired and she felt sure she would sleep well tonight. She went around the house locking doors and turning off lights. But as Sam passed the computer she paused. She hit a key to bring up the screen again. After a delay of a moment or two, Hal’s email reappeared. Sam clicked on Reply, and typed in ‘I miss you too’. She hesitated only briefly before clicking Send. Then she quit the program and took herself off to bed.
Boxing Day
Sam sat in the car on the street outside her mother’s house. She had been sitting there for a full ten minutes now, and no overwhelming urge had possessed her and magically transported her into the house. She was going to have to get there the normal way, through sheer force of will. She sighed heavily, picked up the bag of gifts she had brought with her and stepped o
ut of the car. As she approached the front door, Sam could feel the apprehension in her bones. It shouldn’t be such a nerve-racking, unpleasant experience to visit her own mother. How had it come to this?
She knocked on the door and waited an unreasonable length of time before she heard footsteps coming up the hall. Bernice must have known it was her and she was clearly taking the opportunity to make her squirm.
‘Hi Mum!’ Sam said brightly as the door opened. ‘Merry Christmas.’
Bernice stood there, holding the door knob, unmoved. ‘It’s not Christmas any more, Samantha. It’s Boxing Day.’
‘It’s still the Christmas season, and you know what they say, ’tis the season . . .’ Her voice trailed away as she watched her mother standing stock still, her face set hard. Sam took a deep breath. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’
‘So today you want to come in?’
Sam wasn’t going to be drawn. ‘Yes, thanks Mum,’ she chirped, walking past her and through into the living room. ‘Aunty Gwen has left already?’
‘Alex and Gordon are taking her home right now, as a matter of fact. I’m sure Alex would have told you that last night.’
If she had, Sam probably would have waited until she was sure Alex would be here. She could use the moral support.
‘Well, these are from me and the kids,’ said Sam, holding out the bag. ‘Perhaps I should keep Aunty Gwen’s present to give her myself?’
Bernice clasped her hands together. She didn’t take the bag. ‘Yes, Samantha, perhaps that’s exactly what you should do. You ruined Christmas for her by not coming, and then dragging your sisters away like that –’
‘I didn’t drag them away.’
‘They went to see you.’
Bernice was determined to make this unpleasant. What had Alex said yesterday? Don’t lose the ground she’d gained. Sam had the chance, for the first time in her life, to be honest with her mother. She couldn’t change Bernice, but she could change the way she related to her, or more correctly, reacted to her.
Sam put the bag down on the nearest armchair. ‘Okay, Mum, I’m not going to do this. I refuse to any more. If my being here upsets you so much, then I should go. And if you’re going to persist with the tone and the putdowns, I’d rather leave and save us both the grief. It’s up to you.’
Wife for Hire Page 43