by Judy Astley
Jenny, who taught Year Four at the school, had suggested it was all about ‘male brain architecture’. When Thea had looked it up on the internet, she couldn’t argue with that interpretation, though it seemed to be just a polite and over-technical way of saying he was more than a bit obsessive. It explained a lot about why he and his poodle-breeder sister were so obsessed with pedigree and bloodlines. It was all about lists and order. Rich was never happier than when working through a dog’s stud chart. No wonder he hadn’t wanted children – and that was a piece of information he could have let her in on a couple of years earlier! Their lineage and ancestry would never have measured up to standards of perfection the way the pedigree of the ideal poodle puppy could.
Mike was carrying the big wooden platter of cheese and fruit back to the table. Thea felt a rush of love for him, her lovely, unkempt father who kept up his guitar-playing as if it were only a matter of time before he was called on to take over from Keith Richards in the Stones. He still played in a band with old friends and they were singing in local pubs most weeks, slotting themselves in comfortably between elderly folk singers who harked way back to pre-rock beatnik days and young, breathy girls in floral playsuits and wispy frocks, dreaming of fame and that elusive record deal.
‘OK, so – Christmas,’ Mike began as soon as they were under way with the lemon tart. ‘I hope you’ll all agree to this, because Anna and I specially want us all to be together this year.’
‘Sounds a bit serious,’ Jimi commented.
‘Can we go outside and play?’ Milly interrupted. ‘I’ve stopped eating now.’
‘Milly!’ Emily gave her a warning look but Alfie joined in.
‘And me. Don’t like it,’ he said, plonking his spoon down hard in the middle of the custardy topping.
‘Emily, maybe they could just go out and play for a bit,’ Anna suggested. ‘It’s nice and sunny and the swing is still up.’
‘C’n I go too? Keep an eye on them and stuff?’ Elmo had eaten his pudding and he quickly scooped up the remainder of Alfie’s and wolfed that down too. ‘Great pie,’ he said to Anna. ‘Ace lunch.’
The three of them raced off through the kitchen’s French doors which they slammed shut after them.
‘No coats, no wellies,’ Emily muttered as they went, but she looked too exhausted to chase after them. Thea watched as Elmo walked down the concrete steps to the lawn in front of Alfie to make sure he’d catch him if he tripped. The care he was taking with his little cousin almost brought tears to her eyes.
Mike wasn’t meeting anyone’s eye as he started to speak; instead, Thea got the impression he was addressing the piece of oozy Camembert that he was cutting. ‘You see, we had this idea. And if it’s all right with you all, Anna and I thought it would be fun to go down to Cornwall. Anna’s found a fabulous big place to rent, called Cove Manor. It’s a kind of half-hotel, half-self-catering set-up and there’s a cook and housekeeper on the premises who’ll take care of shopping, cleaning and cooking evening meals as and when we want them to, though we can do the Christmas dinner between us and—’
‘Cornwall?’ Emily interrupted. ‘What – all of us? But why?’
Mike shrugged. ‘Why not Cornwall? Some sea air, walks, beaches – what’s not to like?’
‘And – well, we could make it a real event. A sort of celebration, of us. As a family.’ Thea recognized a tone in her mother’s voice that told her there wouldn’t be any choice about joining in. ‘In fact, this might sound a bit mad but I want us to put together a list of the things we’d all particularly enjoy doing. For me, I want a film night. There’s a huge TV – perfect for us all to watch something together.’
‘Got to be The Great Escape.’ Jimi put his bid in. ‘You can’t have Christmas without watching Steve McQueen not quite making it over the wire.’
‘Don’t say that in front of Elmo,’ Mike warned his son. ‘He’s probably never seen it. Nothing worse than spoiling the ending.’
‘I didn’t mean actual films,’ Anna said. ‘I meant all the old videos and home movies we’ve made over the years. We’re getting them adapted into DVDs by a friend of Mike’s friend – er, Charlotte.’
Thea noticed her hesitate over the name. This Charlotte was probably a singer. When she’d been growing up, her father had been madly enthusiastic on an almost weekly basis about someone he’d recently heard. A month later, he’d be on to someone else and have mentally deleted the previous one. Or maybe she was another painter.
‘Anyway, Charlotte has got them all at the moment and they’ll all be done soon.’
‘Er, right,’ Emily replied. ‘So first of all it’s like a foregone conclusion that we’ll all agree to go, and also spend our time staring at home movies from before they met us, which should be hours of fun for the children and Rosie and Sam. Not.’
‘They don’t have to watch,’ Mike said mildly. ‘But it’s just something we’d like. For us and for you, if you want.’ He grinned. ‘Now we’re getting older we need reminding sometimes of how it was when we were young parents, coping with the kids the way you are now. Or not coping. There are a few battles royal on those old videos.’
‘And we want a proper barbecue on the beach,’ Anna added. ‘Mike’s keen to do one of those. That’s his item on the wish list. You must all think about something you’d like to do as well.’
‘A barbecue in December?’ Jimi said. ‘Are you completely mad? We’ll freeze.’
‘Probably,’ Mike said, sounding perfectly happy with the possibility. ‘We’ll have a quiz night too. Anything but television and just slobbing out anyway. It’ll be – y’know – bonding.’
‘So this is – er, together?’ Jimi asked. ‘Like you two, Mum and Dad, you’ll be together?’
Anna laughed. ‘Yes, us two but mostly all of you. We wanted it to be a special family Christmas, but without the huge hassle for any one person who had to be in charge of it. Democracy at its best, you see. Don’t you think it’ll be brilliant? We can share the load. The children can do the tree together and we’ll make mince pies and have a carol night and – I don’t know, maybe games. Not computer ones, proper ones like a big Monopoly tournament, Scrabble, cards. Thea, you’ll have time when the term ends, you could make a spreadsheet, a timetable kind of thing, couldn’t you? Of activities?’
Jimi cut another tiny sliver of the lemon tart. Thea grinned across at him, knowing that he’d probably have another and another till there was barely a centimetre left of it. He put his finger to his lips and whispered, ‘Shhh!’
‘A spreadsheet?’ Emily asked. ‘Like a rota for chores?’
‘Not chores, no. But, say, if everyone knows that on Boxing Day morning it’s a beach walk and kite-flying, then there won’t be any flaking about, no “what shall we do today” and spending half the day deciding it.’
‘So, back to normal then?’ Thea asked. ‘Not any of this you and Dad doing your separate-lives thing any more?’
‘Oh! Oh, that’s fabulous!’ Emily cheered up immediately. ‘I’m so glad. I knew you didn’t mean it about splitting up. Not that you really did, did you? You’re still here.’
‘Ah. Stick, slightly wrong end of.’ Mike took hold of Anna’s hand and Thea saw him squeeze it tight. ‘Not exactly. Um, we wanted it to be a special Christmas because we’re going to make the separation a bit more … separate.’
‘We’re getting a divorce,’ Anna said quietly.
Emily gasped. ‘But why? What’s the point at—’
‘Our age?’ Mike gave his daughter a look. ‘Because when we decided last year that there’s life beyond … this, it was always going to turn out this way. Didn’t you realize that?’
‘It’s all completely amicable.’ Anna put her arm round Emily and hugged her. ‘Honestly, your father and I will still be huge friends. We’ll see each other all the time. It’ll be the way they do it in Scandinavia – new partners joining in, old spouses still seeing each other. Honestly, not that much will change as far as y
ou lot are concerned.’
‘New partners?’ Jimi asked. ‘Really? Wow. Didn’t see that coming.’
‘Er, well, only possibly.’ Mike looked a bit shifty. ‘Nothing definite.’
‘And why not?’ Anna backed him up briskly. ‘One’s batteries aren’t yet totally flat.’
‘Euw, Mum!’ Thea said. ‘Too much information.’
‘So are we agreed on this Christmas thing?’ Mike asked.
‘I guess so,’ Emily said. ‘The children will love it. I think.’ She still looked doubtful but made an attempt to rally. ‘And who doesn’t love the seaside?’
‘It’s only a week. And the place is glorious; you’ll love it.’ Anna got up and went to the kitchen dresser, rummaging in a drawer. ‘I’ve got the Cove Manor brochure here. And there are more photos online that you can look at. It’s massive – plenty of room to get together and to get away from each other for a bit of peace too.’
‘And when you get back?’ Thea asked tentatively. ‘What happens then?’
‘Oh. Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell you,’ Anna said, looking a bit downcast. ‘We’ll be putting this house on the market and finding somewhere for each of us to live.’
And this time Emily really did burst into noisy tears. ‘But this is home,’ she wailed. ‘You can’t!’
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ Mike said softly, ‘but even if we were staying together, it’s way too big to keep up. It’s time now to let this rambling old place go.’
THREE
It was the last day of term and the staff room was a shambles. The big central table, which usually held abandoned coffee mugs, biscuit crumbs and piles of books and papers, was now completely swamped by bottles (gifts from pupils’ parents), packages and wrapping paper. It was a shame, Thea considered as she staggered, exhausted, into the room, that none of the bottles were open. After such a hectic final day with over-hyped and thoroughly excited children, they could all have done with at least a vat of wine. However, most of the staff had to drive home, and those who didn’t were in a rush to get away to make a start on their own Christmases now the school one was over and done with. The carol service, the Yule play (big success, in spite of one of the elves being too late in asking to go for a wee) and the individual classroom parties had taken up most of the final week and there wasn’t a single teacher who would be sorry to get home and simply flake out on a sofa for a couple of hours like a dog that’s been run into the ground on an over-long walk.
Thea and Jenny were among the first to have dispatched their class-loads. They had done some essential tidying and were now packing up their cards and presents from the children and preparing for a quick getaway. Thea sniffed at one of her parcels. ‘It smells delicious,’ she said, ‘and it’s from that banker’s daughter.’ She shook it tentatively. ‘Quite heavy, doesn’t rattle. Might be a candle from Jo Malone.’ Most of the rest would be chocolates, which were always welcome, but she’d take them to Cornwall to share with the rest of the family so she wouldn’t come back for the spring term two dress sizes larger.
‘It’s so kind of them all to bother,’ Jenny said, eyeing the label of one of her wine bottles. It featured a grinning, leaping kangaroo, suggesting a promise of risky jollity. ‘I’m sure most of mine are more than a bit strapped for cash. Lucy Miller made me a bookmark out of cardboard from a cornflake packet. She’s drawn a cat on it and coloured it all in and put some ribbon on it, but on the other side I can see the red part of the chicken’s tail feathers. I could have cried. So sweet.’
‘It is. I’ve had so many cards the children told me they’d made all by themselves, and they look so proud when they hand them over.’ Thea had given each child a card and a puzzle book, and the evening before she’d made mince pies and cupcakes for them to have as a classroom treat after lunch, even though the sugar overload made them even more hyper. Her ears would ring for days from the sound of their squealing.
There would only be a few days between the end of term and the drive down to Cornwall, and Thea was in a panic about the activities spreadsheet that her mother had so blithely assumed she’d have all the time in the world to do. When to fit it in? There were parties to go to, friends to see, the usual round of Christmas hangovers. Tonight was possible: she might have time to give it a go between getting home and going out later because she was only going to the Over-the-Roads’ and needn’t stay all that long. Or maybe she could just scribble a quick list and run off a few copies? But somehow she didn’t think she could cope with Emily’s scorn if she did that.
‘Looking forward to the big family get-together?’ Jenny asked, as if reading her thoughts.
‘Yes, sort of. But I’ve got a ton of stuff to do first. And I know I don’t have a family to rush round and deal with.’ Thea felt a little jolt of pain, saying this. ‘But I definitely got landed with the organizing for the Christmas activity list because everyone knows that teachers walk out of the classroom every day at four o’clock and do nothing more than slob out on the sofa with wine, a giant pack of Pringles and Pointless on the telly, don’t they?’
‘Well, of course – what else is there to do?’ Jenny agreed. ‘We are such idlers, we barely deserve to be paid at all. When are you off for this clan gathering?’
‘Next Tuesday. I haven’t even thought what to take with me. I still have to shop for lots of presents, and this ridiculous timetable thing they want is hanging over me too. I’ve never known my parents want anything actually “organized” before. They’ve always been spontaneous sorts – you know, going with however the mood of the day takes them, or what the weather feels like. When we were little we always went for Devon beach holidays and just mooched about on the sand, digging and playing and collecting shells and things. Every now and then there’d be a trip to a wildlife park or something, but nothing decided way ahead. And certainly not before we’d even got there.’
‘So this time, it’ll be like, if it’s Wednesday, it must be jigsaws, kind of thing?’
Thea looked at Jenny for a few moments and then spluttered with laughter. ‘Jigsaws? Have you met my parents? It’s far more likely to be a poker tournament, and fiercely played at that. I think Mum’s stocking up on one last big family memory before they split up.’ She sighed. ‘It’s all a bit sad. I still can’t believe they mean to go through with a divorce. I’ve never met two people who seem such good mates.’
‘Perhaps they won’t,’ Jenny suggested. ‘Maybe they’ll change their minds over Christmas.’
‘I don’t think so. They’re treating it like some big adventure that we’re all supposed to support them in. And besides …’ She hesitated. ‘They’ve – well, at least Dad has – hinted that there’s someone else.’
Jenny’s eyes went wide. ‘You mean you’ll maybe get a new young stepmother?’
‘Aargh! Don’t say that!’ Thea laughed for a second and then when the idea really hit, she stopped abruptly. ‘Now you’ve got me picturing my dad with someone even younger than me. Go away, thought – I can’t even begin to want that in my brain!’ She actually shook her head as if to dislodge the picture. Did you ever get to an age where the idea of your parents having a sex life was acceptable? Probably not. And certainly not a sex life with someone you might have been contemporary friends with.
‘Sorry.’ Jenny back-tracked rapidly. ‘Of course it might be someone his own age. And … and it might not last. Is she coming for Christmas with you all?’ The staff room was starting to fill with teachers, most of them sighing with relief at getting their little charges off their hands for a few weeks.
‘Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that,’ Thea replied. ‘Nobody’s said anything about extra people. Mum seemed to want just us, but who knows? The place is huge – it sleeps about sixteen apparently, so I suppose it’s possible. I could ask, but I’m not sure I want to know the answer till I get there. That way, I can just take whatever the situation is and run with it. Best way.’
‘Well, good luck anyway,
’ Jenny said, putting her coat on and gathering up her bags. ‘I do hope it’ll go well. Are you planning to be madly social before you pack up and leave?’
Thea smiled. ‘Pretty much. I’ve said yes to everything in a spirit of sod you to Rich.’
‘Good thinking. Back on the horse and all that, as it were. And have a really Happy Christmas, won’t you?’
‘Thanks, Jenny. Give the children a hug from me and you all have a brilliant time.’
Jenny hesitated just before she left the room. ‘You will be OK, won’t you? No moping, promise?’
‘None at all. For one thing the family won’t let me, and tonight I’m going to a party at the Over-the-Roads’ so that’ll keep me occupied for a few hours.’
‘Good. So no brooding.’ Jenny hugged her.
‘No brooding, I promise.’ It would be easier said than done, but she’d do her best, and if she didn’t have too much tear-inducing fizzy wine she’d be fine.
Thea collected her haul of cards and presents together, said plenty of goodbyes and Happy Christmases to the rest of the staff and went out into the chill air to her car. It wasn’t even three o’clock yet but it was already close to getting dark. Roll on spring, she thought as she drove out through the playground gates, carefully dodging the last stragglers of infants and parents. And in spite of what she’d said to Jenny, promising not to mope was one thing, but she’d have to fight quite hard not to give any thought to Rich and the lack of his big calm presence. But it helped that he’d sent a card and she’d hated it. It was a photo that featured Rich with his older sister Liz, whose house and dog-breeding business up near Chester he now shared. Benji was sitting in front of Rich and looking silly in a Santa hat that clashed with his apricot fur, and alongside Liz sat a large white poodle, its fur clipped into the extreme half-fluffed, half-bald show cut. Thea would pity this creature for the cold he must feel on the shaved parts of his body and legs, but she suspected he (a top champion of the breed) wasn’t exactly allowed to frolic in the great outdoors much. Liz had one hand on her prize-winning poodle and another on Rich’s shoulder, and you couldn’t help seeing it as a gesture of claiming.