Angie looked taken aback. ‘I thought mothers and daughters were meant to share things like that?’
Lottie was shaking her head. ‘I don’t think so. We share enough already.’
‘Like what?’
‘Insults and a genetic predisposition to choose the wrong men. Let’s stick to those.’
‘Speak for yourself. My Scott is wonderful.’
‘I have to admit, he does seem nice.’ Lottie paused, then decided to say it. ‘Do something for me, Mum?’ Angie twitched but didn’t respond. ‘Be honest with him. He seems like a decent guy and I think you two could have something good together. And most importantly, I don’t want to have to look after you when you get old.’ Lottie said it with a smile so her mother would know she was joking.
Angie rolled her eyes and looked across at Nana’s dressing table. ‘I guess we need to think about sorting her things out.’
‘We do,’ said Lottie, with a sad sigh. ‘Do you want to give me a hand now?’ Angie’s face said she didn’t.
‘Won’t it just all go to charity?’ Angie gave the room a cursory sweep.
‘I guess so, but …’ Lottie was slightly thrown by the comment. It was true, there was very little that she would want to keep, but at the same time she couldn’t give it all away. ‘Come on, we need to do the important stuff. I’d rather do it with you than on my own.’
‘Fine,’ said Angie, and Lottie picked up Nana’s jewellery box and handed it to her.
‘This is all mine, so that’s easy,’ said Angie, closing the lid with a snap and putting the box next to her on the bed. She let her arm rest protectively around it.
‘Oh. I thought it might be nice for me to have something of Nana’s to keep. And Jessie too.’
Angie tried to hide her surprise. ‘Well, um, okay. What was it you wanted?’
‘Nothing expensive. Just something like her marcasite ring she wore if she was going out. And maybe her Saint Christopher for Jessie? Nicola might like something too.’
Angie snorted. ‘Fine, but I’m not giving it all away.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’ Lottie was becoming irritated. Her mother could be so selfish sometimes. ‘Here,’ said Lottie, pulling out the bottom drawer of the dresser and setting it down on the bed the other side of Angie. ‘Have a look through there.’ Angie looked at it as if it might explode.
‘We found the cards in there,’ said Lottie, her mind returning to the words in hers.
‘That was really odd wasn’t it? That she’d taken the time to write in everyone’s card when she could have just called us all together to tell us.’
‘No. I thought it was very Nana. She didn’t want a fuss. She said that in the card. This way everyone knows, but there’s no big drama.’ The avoidance of drama was probably what was foxing her mother, who had courted it her whole life.
‘I guess.’ She pulled out packet after packet of tights from the drawer. ‘Did she even wear anything other than flesh colour?’
Lottie ignored her mother. ‘What did your card say? I mean not a general interpretation. What did it actually say?’ asked Lottie.
Angie put the tights down and cupped her hands in her lap as if thinking over how to respond. ‘It said, “Spend time with your children – they are your greatest achievement.”’ Lottie was warmed by the words. Angie seemed puzzled. ‘It’s just another criticism. I do spend time with you when I can. But you know I’m busy. Don’t you, darling?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ said Lottie, and she pulled out another drawer. The fact that Angie still hadn’t asked what Lottie’s card said spoke volumes.
‘Your Nana always made me feel like she could do everything better than I could. Even bringing up you and Zach.’
‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to,’ said Lottie.
‘Daniel was academic and successful. I suppose I always felt I disappointed her.’ Lottie could relate to that. Angie gave herself a shake. ‘I probably imagined it all anyway. Because I have made a success of my life and I’m only halfway through.’
‘What was that you said before about an early menopause? Are you okay?’
‘Oh, I’m fine. It’s wonderful. No need for contraception or sanitary products. It’s saved me a fortune.’ Angie looked genuinely delighted.
‘There are worse things that are transmitted through having sex.’
‘Worse than babies?’ Angie flinched. ‘Surely not.’
‘Do you think the early menopause thing could be hereditary?’ Lottie bit her lip. She wanted to have children; it was frightening to think her time might be running out faster than she thought.
Angie shrugged. ‘Why do you ask?’
Lottie shook her head. Her mother was unbelievable. ‘Because it might impact me.’ Lottie couldn’t help her voice rising at the end.
‘Oh. I see.’ Angie seemed to give it some thought. She took Lottie’s hand. Lottie felt unexpected emotion bubble inside her. Her mother was rarely demonstrative, so when she was it always took her by surprise. ‘You know, darling; being a parent isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘Mum!’ Lottie’s voice was louder than either of them expected. It made Angie jump.
‘Oh, don’t take everything personally. That wasn’t a dig at you. I hate to admit it, but Nana was right. You and Zach are the best thing I’ve ever done. I know I’ve been an unconventional mother. But you know I love you. Don’t you?’
It was lovely to hear her mother say it. ‘Yes, Mum. I know.’
‘That’s good then.’ She let go of Lottie’s hand and returned to sorting tights.
Emily and Jessie were in the kitchen when a tired-looking Lottie appeared. Emily watched her take a deep breath and paste on a smile.
‘Where is everyone?’ asked Lottie.
‘The boys have gone to watch TV,’ said Emily, wrapping her arms around Jessie. ‘And Nicola has gone to look for some book about Romans in the box room.’
‘She could be lost in there forever. I’ll give her half an hour and then send in a rescue crew. Or maybe the vicar because I’m fairly sure a couple of the dolls are possessed.’
‘I’m bored,’ said Jessie, her face glum.
‘Shall we make cakes?’ suggested Lottie. Emily loved how Lottie was always able to find a solution for everyone else’s woes.
Jessie was already jumping up and down. Emily didn’t mind what they did, as long as Jessie was occupied. This wasn’t what anyone had planned for today. She’d been hoping that she and Zach would have some time to themselves, as Jessie had been meant to be on a pantomime trip with Rainbows, but it wasn’t to be.
‘Yeah, why not,’ said Emily, trying to muster some enthusiasm. At least she wasn’t at work.
‘We’re off to the pub for lunch, but the hordes will still want something come teatime. Thanks to one of Nana’s WI cookbooks I’ve found a couple of vegan cake recipes that we’ve got the ingredients for,’ said Lottie, swiftly tying an apron around a still-jumping Jessie. ‘Right, my eager helpers; let’s set to work.’ Emily gave a weak smile as Jessie bounded off to the larder. ‘You okay?’ asked Lottie.
‘Yeah … No … I guess so.’
‘Doesn’t sound conclusive,’ observed Lottie. She opened out the cookbook and read out the ingredients to Jessie. Jessie was soon focusing hard on measuring flour, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth in concentration. Lottie guided Emily into the utility. ‘Come on, out with it.’
‘Does Zach seem …’ Emily checked Jessie wasn’t listening, ‘all right to you?’
‘In what way?’
Emily shrugged. She was struggling to put her finger on exactly what was awry, but something definitely was. ‘He’s up and down more often than a hyperactive meerkat. He’s usually so even.’ It was something she loved about him. He had a reliable personality: always upbeat. And yet, over the last few days, he’d been all over the place. ‘Is he just like this when he’s with the family?’ It would be a logical explanation, and would hopefully mean she could s
top fretting that he was going to dump her. Emily was unable to shake what Jessie had said on Christmas Day from her mind, despite Zach’s protestations.
‘I’m always unsettled around my mother. She does that to me. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m rock bottom.’ That would explain it, thought Emily. ‘We always say our mother had postnatal disappointment.’ Lottie chuckled and returned to Jessie at the kitchen table. Emily was thinking.
Emily bit the inside of her mouth. So perhaps it was the family causing Zach’s mood changes then. ‘Maybe I should talk to him again.’
‘Aren’t you going to wait until you know?’ Lottie nodded at Emily’s stomach before returning her attention to beating together the sugar and margarine that Jessie had carefully measured out.
‘I’m hoping to pop in the shop when we go to the pub.’ She chose her words carefully – Jessie looked like she was engrossed, but she didn’t miss much.
‘Good plan.’ Lottie paused and held up a wooden spoon dripping with mixture. ‘Actually, be careful of who’s on the till. If it’s Rhonda, the news of what you’ve bought will be around the village before you’ve stepped in the pub.’ Emily could tell that the horror of this was etched on her face. ‘It’s okay. Any of the others are all right … apart from … Actually, I’ll make you a list of who’s likely to blab and who’s not.’
‘Great. Thanks. I think,’ said Emily, feeling like she was about to embark on a James Bond-worthy expedition rather than a trip to the village stores. ‘Do they wear name badges?’
‘Actually, no, they don’t.’ Lottie pulled a face. ‘You’ll have to ask them.’
‘Great,’ repeated Emily, this time with even less enthusiasm.
‘Here, Jessie. You need to give this a stir and then add in the flour,’ said Lottie, putting the bowl down near her and holding it steady.
Jessie obliged and they followed the next steps of the recipe together while Emily watched. When they’d completed two batches of cakes – one vanilla and one chocolate – Jessie’s attention span was exhausted. Emily wrapped her up in many layers and sent her off with Rhys and Dave to try and find more treasure in the garden.
Emily and Lottie sipped tea while they waited for the cakes to cook. The Duchess wandered in and flopped dramatically at Lottie’s feet. ‘You okay?’ Lottie asked the cat. She looked how Emily felt: overfed and fed up. She watched as Lottie went to tickle the Duchess and the cat took a swipe at her. ‘Hey, grumpy. What’s with you today?’ The Duchess got up and made a point of washing herself thoroughly where Lottie had touched her before disappearing again.
‘What are you going to do about Joe?’ asked Emily.
Lottie stared out of the window almost as if she hadn’t heard her. ‘Nothing I can do. It’s out of my hands now.’
‘You’re just going to give up on him?’
Lottie twisted in her seat, her face pained. ‘I’m not giving up.’
‘Oh, okay,’ said Emily, feeling pretty sure that doing nothing was exactly the same thing but she didn’t know Lottie well enough to push her on it.
Lottie’s expression softened. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I have been mulling it all over and there’s really nothing I can do.’
‘Is he not worth fighting for? If it was Zach I wouldn’t walk away without a fight.’
Lottie opened her mouth, but instead of saying anything she sipped her tea and turned back to stare out of the window at the snow-painted trees.
When the timer buzzed, Emily helped Lottie get the cakes out of the oven. They had risen well, but mainly in the middle, so they all had a massive peak in the centre.
‘They look good,’ said Emily, kindly, feeling her stomach grumble.
‘They’re a bit pointy. They look like volcanoes.’
‘Or perky breasts,’ said Emily, giving them a sideways look.
Lottie hastily covered the naked buns with a clean tea towel and they left them to cool.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Zach grabbed Lottie while they were all putting on coats in the hallway ready to go to the pub for lunch. He pulled her in to the dining room.
‘Emily’s worried about you. She still thinks you’re going to dump her,’ said Lottie, before Zach could speak.
‘That’ll be resolved in the next couple of hours,’ he said. ‘I need your help.’
‘Why?’ Lottie was suspicious.
‘Because I’ve had a brilliant idea. I need you to do something for me. Top secret.’
Oh dear, thought Lottie. ‘I will if I can.’ She wrapped her scarf round her neck twice.
Zach waved his hands animatedly. ‘When we all go to the pub, you need to sneak off—’
‘Hang on. Where will Emily be?’ After her conversation with Emily, she was losing track of who’d be sneaking off where.
‘With me, of course. Where else would she be?’
She couldn’t answer that. He had a good point. ‘Nowhere. Come on, tell me the plan.’
After Zach had relayed his instructions and Lottie had asked far too many questions, he joined the others and Lottie made an excuse about needing to check everywhere was locked up. Instead, Lottie put on her wellies and headed out the back door where, as Zach had explained, she found a large sack. She peeked inside. As expected, it was full of holly branches. Lottie pursed her lips in thought. It was a lot of holly, but was it enough? She grabbed the secateurs and another sack and went to give the holly bush another severe pruning.
When she was happy with her haul, she locked up the house, picked up the sacks and began her trudge to the pub. It was gently snowing, and silent flakes were floating through the air serene and mesmerising. Within a couple of paces she identified a problem: no matter how she held the sacks they bumped against her, and because they were woven the holly easily poked through and spiked her. ‘Ow! Stop pricking me!’ she shouted at the sack when it grazed her for the umpteenth time. Somehow shouting at it made her feel slightly better. She wasn’t usually a shouty person. Perhaps it was something she should do more often, rather than bottling up her anguish. She stopped, gave her scratched thigh a rub, rearranged the sacks and set off again. ‘Ow!’ It was no good. She was going to have to grit her teeth and accept it was going to hurt. The things I do for other people’s happiness, she thought. Maybe one day karma would shine on her. She muttered a string of mild expletives and then decided to utter one with each jab the holly gave her. She soon got into a rhythm: ‘Bugger, arse, damn, prick; bugger, arse …’
Halfway down the hill she stopped again and jiggled the sacks round. At this point her right thigh probably had more holes than a teabag. It wasn’t too far now to the village green.
‘Bugger,’ she said as she set off. The sack spiked her in the bum. ‘Arse.’
She concentrated hard on her goal, ignoring the door opening nearby. ‘Damn, prick,’ she said, loudly, as Joe stepped out of the doorway and into her path. He recoiled from her verbal assault. She blushed and was about to apologise and explain, but she caught sight of Megan and decided against it. Lottie skirted around them and continued down the hill. ‘Arse.’
She focused on her goal. She had far more important things to think about today than Joe Bloody Broomfield. She neared the green and watched as the door to the village stores opened and a furtive-looking Emily came out. Lottie quickly slung the sacks into a hedge and kept walking. As anticipated, Emily looked around, saw Lottie and waved. She waited for Lottie to reach her.
‘Did you get it?’ asked Lottie.
‘Yep,’ said Emily, biting her lip and patting her bag at the same time. ‘It was a nightmare getting away from Zach. I had to say I needed tampons before he’d let me out of his sight. I got some fizz,’ she held up the bottles, ‘in case we need to celebrate.’ Lottie didn’t like to ask which result they would be celebrating.
‘Good idea. Look, I just need to …’ She needed a reason to delay going to the pub with Emily, but her brain wasn’t being terribly quick coming up with something.
‘Need to?’ prompted Emily, appearing concerned.
Lottie heard the crunch of footsteps behind her and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed it was Joe and Megan. ‘I need to speak to Joe about Dave,’ she said, in a loud and deliberate voice, bringing Joe to a halt next to her.
‘What’s up?’ asked Joe. He, Emily and Megan were all staring at her. Megan was running a critical eye over Lottie’s outfit. She didn’t care. She was dressed for the weather, not a fashion parade.
‘Could I talk to you in private?’ asked Lottie, putting on her most serious face and focusing on Joe.
‘Er, yeah. Okay.’ Joe was hesitant.
‘Are you going to the pub?’ Emily asked Megan.
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Let’s get in the warm.’ And Emily guided a reluctant Megan away.
As soon as they were out of sight, Lottie grabbed Joe’s arm and marched him back towards where she’d dumped the sacks full of holly. ‘You might as well give me a hand with this.’
‘What’s going on, Lottie?’ asked Joe.
‘Oh, you know, just a traditional Collins Christmas full of secrets and cock ups.’ She gave a forced smile and handed him a snowy sack. ‘Be careful of the pricks,’ she informed him, her face deadly serious.
He was grinning until he started to walk after her. ‘Ow!’ he said, giving his side a rub.
‘I did warn you,’ said Lottie, with a sense of satisfaction. She’d spent a few hours thinking how she’d like to stick pins in him. Who knew it would be so easily arranged?
Joe let out a more strangled ‘Ow!’, which made her turn round. ‘Scrotum,’ he whispered.
‘Ouch. Pricked in your … Well, yes, that’s going to hurt.’ She turned away to hide her smirk and carried on. She heard his footsteps crunch on the snow behind her as he caught her up.
‘Lottie, I need to explain—’
‘No, you don’t,’ she cut in without turning around. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’ She strode away so that he couldn’t contradict her. She didn’t want to hear his excuses.
One Family Christmas: The perfect, cosy, heart-warming read to curl up with this winter Page 28