by L G Dickson
As she was leafing through Delia Smith’s Christmas, Annie heard the door, then some rustling of bags followed by opening and closing of the chest of drawers in the bedroom.
James emerged into the lounge beaming. ‘Now you mustn’t go rummaging about in there, dear.’ He collapsed onto the couch and threw his arms around her. ‘Bumped into Gordon in St Stephen Street – looked like a man on the edge. No idea what to get Virginia so I dragged him into the Antiquary, we had a couple of pints and I shared with him everything I know about the perfect gift for the woman you love, which by the way is not very much, just in case you were getting your hopes up there!’
He planted a very cold and slightly beery kiss on her cheek.
‘Anyway, as I was walking back I thought, why don’t we ask them round on Christmas Eve for a few drinks? I think they’re having a quiet one and of course Duncan and Kirsty are off to her folks’ down the Mull of Galloway so there won’t be any socialising with the Drummonds over the piece. What do you think?’
He was beaming, clearly pleased with himself that he was doing right by Annie’s friends.
Annie stared at him. ‘Good God, James, you’ve gone from living the life of a hermit to “hail fellow, well met” in a remarkably short space of time!’
He looked suddenly crestfallen. ‘Oh dear, I thought you’d be pleased with my suggestion. Show you that I can be sociable, particularly at this time of year.’
She couldn’t bear the downcast look. ‘No, it’s a good idea – I guess I’d just been thinking we might have had Christmas Eve to ourselves – but it’s fine. We can have drinks and nibbles.’ Annie quietly relegated Delia to the magazine rack at the side of the sofa and squeezed his hand.
As it turned out, Christmas Eve was a relaxed, fun evening and Annie was, in the end, grateful that she didn’t have the added pressure of cooking up a sumptuous dinner before the main event with her mother.
Christmas Day dawned and Annie and James spent most of the morning in bed sharing gifts and enjoying each other before the formality of the day encroached upon their private happiness. James scrunched up pieces of wrapping paper and threw them across the room for Ludovic to play with. The cat obliged for all of five minutes before deciding to opt for a more peaceful existence in the lounge. As James headed for a shower, Annie looked around her and reckoned that he had done pretty well on the gift front. He had clearly taken note of her preferred toiletries, including her favourite perfume, although she was less enthusiastic about the cast iron casserole dish. It was obviously very expensive and very heavy but a Christmas present, really? As she had unwrapped the box to reveal the dish in all its functional splendour she couldn’t help but smile at him – he had looked so pleased with himself. Just as she thought she’d come to the end of her festive stash, he’d presented her with a final gift. Annie tore off the paper to find a first edition of Scottish Love Poems. It was perfect; the best present of all.
James left to pick Helen up at one o’clock and while he was away, Annie added the final touches to her dining table. She wasn’t sure if any of it would find favour or not but really couldn’t spend too much time worrying.
She heard the car draw up outside and then suddenly Helen burst through the door, arms brimming with presents. The faux fur coat was topped off this time by a pillbox fur hat. All very Dr Zhivago, thought Annie.
‘James is bringing in the rest, dear. Where shall I put these?’
Annie showed her into the cosy lounge and pointed to the handsome six-foot Nordmann fir standing to attention in the corner decorated with just the right number of gold, red and green baubles.
‘My, this looks lovely, dear. You’ve certainly pulled out all the stops this year. Must be trying to impress you, James.’
Annie turned to look at him as he struggled with more presents, bottles and what looked like an M&S food parcel.
Then, just as she was going in to kiss her mother and offer some festive glad tidings, Helen suddenly exclaimed, ‘What have you done with that luminous white thing you got from Argos last year?’
James almost dropped the whole stash as he tried to stifle a laugh.
‘No, seriously, James, it was hideous. I don’t know what she was thinking. This is much better.’ She walked up to James and squeezed his arm. ‘I think you’re a very good influence on my girl, you know.’
All her own good work, her own ideas – none of these would have been remotely possible in Helen’s eyes without someone else’s input. Why did she even bother trying to impress anyone – James or her mother?
At least James picked up on her mood change and after spreading everything out rather unceremoniously on the floor, hurried off to find the sherry. Drinks poured, the unwrapping of presents began. After what seemed like an age, the ritualistic exchange finally appeared to be over when Annie noticed a present cast adrift from the main pile, something that looked like a hefty hardback.
‘Oh, James, that’s for you!’ exclaimed Helen as she turned to look for the cat. There had never been any pets in the Anderson household but in her later years Helen seemed to have developed a strange affinity for other people’s animals and small children.
He smiled, relaxed after a couple of sherries now, and ripped the paper off in keen anticipation. It was a copy of the King James Bible. James shot Annie a look of utter perplexity.
Helen had her back to them, her attention diverted by her attempts to lavish unwanted affection on poor Ludovic. ‘Hope you like it, James. It’s all about terrorists in Palestine.’
Annie and James could only stare at each other. Clearly there had been some misunderstanding but it was fun trying to suppress laughter while contemplating Helen’s take on the Son of God’s good works.
‘I think they try to launch a nuclear attack at that American football thingy – the Superbowl I think it’s called – well, something like that.’
She was down on all fours now with her ample backside protruding into the air. Ludovic, by this time, had wrestled free and headed for the bedroom.
Helen turned just as James was trying to stifle a laugh while holding the Bible in his outstretched hand. Despite the humour of the situation, Annie thought he looked just a little bit scared, as though holding the word of God too close might result in an unintended conversion.
‘Oh my. That was for Jean McHarg. Oh dear, James, I think the poor woman’s got the latest Tom Clancy thriller – probably not recommended reading for the Chair of the Women’s Guild!’
Any last vestiges of tension disappeared and the three of them sat round laughing as they envisaged present opening at the McHargs.
After a sumptuous meal, they sat fit to bursting and sipping at their orange Muscat. Annie couldn’t help but feel very satisfied with her first Christmas dinner. Helen had complimented her all the way through the meal and James grunted approvingly after every course. He did make some half-hearted offer to clear away and do the washing up but Helen was having none of it.
‘No, no, James. You sit through there. Annie and I will sort all this out.’ Exactly the sort of intervention she had made whenever Annie’s father had attempted to help with washing up.
Annie stared at James with a look that clearly demanded some form of resistance but he merely smiled.
‘Oh, well, if you insist. Can’t say I didn’t offer, darling.’ And off he sloped.
Mother and daughter assumed their customary roles of washer and dryer.
‘I think it’s sitting behind a desk all day, dear. You never seem to apply quite enough elbow grease.’ Helen rolled up the sleeves of her paisley-patterned Christmas frock and got stuck in.
‘Well, you two seem to be settling nicely into cosy domesticity.’
‘Yes, it’s going quite well.’
Helen stopped scrubbing and turned to look at her daughter. ‘I really didn’t think you’d w
ant to get all involved with someone, Annie – thought you were quite happy as you were. But then I do quite like him. I know it doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things, but I like that he wants to come round to your old mother’s with you. Not all men would want to do that – most would run a mile, in fact, unless marital duty forced them.’
‘Yes, well, he won’t be coming round quite as often, Mum… well, not in the short term, anyway.’
Helen looked quizzically at her daughter. ‘Why, what’s happened?’
‘Nothing’s happened. It’s just that he’s going away with work for a while, six months actually – up north.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Helen turned back to her roasting tray.
‘It’s fine, it’s just that we’ll need to plan things. He’ll come back when he can and I’ll probably go up there occasionally. It’s a really important project he’s involved in, something he feels really passionately about.’ The lack of any response from her mother made Annie press the case for his leaving. ‘So of course I want him to go. In fact, it’s really important he goes – and it’s not like it’s forever.’
Helen’s scrubbing tempo increased dramatically. ‘Yes, well. I suppose it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Men just like to do their own thing at the end of the day – and just when I thought things were panning out nicely for you.’
Annie knew where her thoughts were going. She slapped the tea towel down next to the sink.
‘James and I are not you and Dad. It isn’t the same thing at all. He’s coming back to me.’ She picked up the towel again. ‘I’m not pushing him away.’
She regretted those final words as soon as they had left her lips.
Helen suddenly stopped what she was doing. At the same time, Annie felt herself go towards her mother but in reality it was an emotional shift rather than a physical one. She barely moved. After an uncomfortable pause the two women carried on with their kitchen duties, this time in silence. Annie finished off the drying but her mother had now taken to scrubbing the cooker hob as vigorously as she had attacked the washing up.
Annie made her way back through to the lounge alone to find James assuming his customary position. He was fast asleep, head cocked to one side and snoring. Annie watched from the doorway as he inhaled loudly then puffed out his cheeks and quietly exhaled. The cat seemed determined to match the pose of the replete man and lay stretched out across the top of the sofa, full belly warming James’s head and purring in harmony with his adopted master.
Annie joined them, head on her man’s shoulder and nestling under the cat’s head. James suddenly woke and Ludovic was once more upended from his chosen sleeping platform.
‘Oh, there you are!’ He drew her in and then looked round, still sleepy. ‘Where’s your mother? Have you done everything? Sorry, Annie, I should have come through and helped; really not acceptable in this day and age.’
There was a loud meow from behind the sofa.
‘Oh God, what have I done to the cat?’ James lifted his arms and stretched, looking round for Ludovic.
‘Oh, he’s fine. Mother’s cleaned every surface in the kitchen and then some. I think she’s shut herself away in the bathroom now.’
‘Oh no, what’s happened?’
‘There’s just a bit of an atmosphere now that I’ve told her about you heading off at the end of February.’
‘Really, why?’
Annie wasn’t sure if he was being deliberately obtuse or just lacking emotional awareness.
‘It’s Geneva all over again.’
‘Oh, good grief.’
Just at that, the door swung open and there stood Helen, the pillbox hat planted firmly on her head now. Warm festive feelings were receding fast. ‘James, what time did you say the taxi was booked for?’
‘Well, I didn’t actually but it’s seven o’clock.’ He glanced at the vintage clock on the mantelpiece. A present from Annie’s father. From Switzerland. ‘Look, it’s only six now. Why don’t you come and sit down and I’ll make everyone some tea.’
Helen didn’t move. ‘I think I’d rather just go now. Can’t you ring the taxi firm?’
‘Come on, Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest… look, please just sit down. We’ve had such a nice day.’ This time Annie did make the physical gesture and stepped forward to take her mother’s hand.
‘Well, what exactly were you trying to say then?’
Annie could see James sit forward as though ready to ask precisely what had been said but then suddenly without any prompting, he sat back to let mother and daughter resolve matters. Levels of awareness had clearly returned.
‘I don’t know. I can’t ever really know what went on with you and Dad. I’m sure there were issues on both sides.’ Annie guided her mother to sit down next to James. He was looking uncomfortable but Annie wanted her mother in between them; she wanted her to feel that they were united in this. ‘James isn’t leaving me. It’s a short-term work thing, that’s all. Actually I’m very proud of him for having the gumption to go and do something like this.’
James took his cue. ‘Look, Helen, this isn’t going to be for long and you have to believe me that I love your daughter very much and I’m not going to do anything that puts what we have at any kind of risk.’
Annie smiled. She needed to hear that as much as her mother did.
Helen turned to look at him. ‘Okay, James, well maybe sometime you can tell me a bit about what you’re going to do – although I’m sure it won’t mean very much to me.’ She was rubbing her fingers, anxiously. ‘You might not know very much about the Andersons and their strange lives, I don’t know.’
She looked at her daughter but Annie really didn’t want to speak anymore.
‘I suppose Annie’s told you something about her dad and me. I can hardly remember how it all started, I mean Switzerland and all that, but before I knew it everything seemed to just fall apart.’ She looked down into her lap. ‘All I will say is that I know work and career and everything that brings can seem terribly important – just don’t let it all get in the way of what really matters. A lesson, I think, we learned too late, I’m afraid.’
Helen grasped each of their hands. As she turned again to look round at her daughter, Annie could see the tears in her mother’s eyes.
‘And that goes for both of you.’
CHAPTER 6
In the weeks that followed it occurred to Annie that James had really taken Helen’s words to heart. He was forever trying to arrange nice things for them to do, creating special moments. It irked her. She felt he was trying to build up a nice bank of memories that would sustain them during this period of enforced separation but Annie really didn’t want the extraordinary. She just needed them to be – to enjoy the mundane, the everyday. Then she thought about him in the bunkhouse he was going to occupy for the first couple of weeks. All she could think of was the rank smell of men’s undergarments, sweaty and damp, strewn over bunk beds and radiators. She smiled to herself. Maybe he was the one that was going to be in need of nice thoughts to warm him.
They kept up their routine of Sunday dinner with Helen and the three of them seemed to relax more into each other’s company. Helen offered no opinion on the desirability of James’s ‘project’ as she called it but rather focused all her energies on his preparedness for an extended trip to the Highlands. Her concern for his welfare extended to the presents she gave for his birthday at the end of January. Annie looked on in disbelief as James unwrapped each item – Helen appeared to have divested Tiso’s outdoor specialist shop of its entire January sale stock.
Back at the flat James surveyed his haul. ‘Maybe she thinks I’m actually setting out on one of those unsupported Arctic expeditions. Good God, I’ve even got some of these bloody awful dried meals – beef stroganoff, chicken tikka with rice!’
As Annie picked
up a pair of thermal gloves she knew his indignation wasn’t all real. He was warming to the thought that Helen actually might care about him.
*
The day before James was due to set off they decided to go for a walk through the Botanics. It was a bitingly cold day but the sun shone high and for the first time that year Annie could feel some warmth in its rays. They walked past a little flurry of lilac and white crocuses, some already trampled underfoot while the remainder were wavering on their flimsy stems up the steep grassy bank. Daffodil stalks had pushed through between the delicate flowers but, unlike their pushy little neighbours, weren’t quite ready to share their bright hue with the world.
‘Fancy a coffee?’ James asked.
Annie thought for a moment. ‘No, not really, thanks. It’s too noisy up there, I don’t want any noise.’ She knew that a gaggle of mothers and toddlers always congregated up at the Terrace Café about this time.
James let go of her hand and placed his arm around her, gripping the thick shoulder of her camel coat.
‘Fine, let’s go and sit at the hothouses and soak up some of these rays.’
They sat just in front of the glass and metal structures that housed, among other things, fragments of the Amazonian rainforest. All hot and humid inside, while they sat outside clad in winter coats, woolly hats and thick gloves. The air was cold but, in their sheltered spot, the sun peered over the trees and warmed their faces.
Annie was feeling irksome, unsettled.
‘I still don’t really understand why grant applications and business plans mean you need to be hundreds of miles away. I’m sure you could do just as good a job down here.’ She was looking down at her feet, stumbling over a final and slightly pathetic attempt to put a halt to proceedings.
‘I just need to go, Annie. I want to go.’