It Must Have Been the Mistletoe

by Judy Astley

  Anna didn’t need to look at the clock to know it was too early to get up yet but these days she rarely slept beyond 5.30. She switched on the light and picked up her iPad which warned that she only had 4 per cent battery left. She’d plugged its charger in the night before but had been too tired to realize the switch at the plug was off. There was maybe just enough time to have a very quick look at emails before it died. Her Hotmail account showed three messages from Alec and for the first time since they’d got together she felt a slight dread instead of the usual excitement about opening them. He’d have done his Christmas thing with his children the night before – she so hoped it went well and that he was about to tell her that they’d had a terrific time. She opened the first of them that he’d written while halfway through cooking the goose. All it said was, Gallons of fat on this thing. Who knew? Well, she did, but then she was many years older than him and had cooked geese several times. She wondered if he’d thought to roast the potatoes in the fat for maximum deliciousness and she also wondered if the tone of the mail was meant to be amusing or glum. Emails were sometimes so hard to interpret.

  The second one had no ambiguity. How can a great big fuck-off goose equal so little meat? Not that it mattered. The kids hated it. On my own now – call me if you get a chance but I expect you’re in the middle of family fun.

  Not a good day then. She felt dreadfully sorry for him and slightly guilty. For the past couple of months they’d been seeing each other mostly when she felt in the mood for having someone to see a film with or fancied a companion for an exhibition or to have supper with while Mike was out doing his music or seeing bands. Alec had always been willing, even at a moment’s notice, to come out with her. He was sounding lonely and fed up and here she was, too far away to be of any comfort when he could do with it.

  Before she read his third email she sent a reply that underplayed her highly comfortable situation, saying the weather was gale-force and freezing (well, of course it was, it was late December), the house was massive (implying draughty rather than the snug and warm sanctuary that it really was), the family were a bit tense (slightly true – the her-and-Mike divorce was a thing that was Not Being Mentioned), and that she missed him. She added that she hoped he’d have a better time at his brother’s and that there was very little that was better than cold goose sandwiches with quince jelly, washed down with a glass of delicious wine in front of a Christmas Morecambe and Wise special. The moment she pressed ‘send’ she wished she’d said something different. Christmas TV. On your own with a cold fowl sandwich. Could anything be bleaker than that? She was just about to open his third message when the iPad’s memory gave way and the screen went blank.

  She could hear thumpy footsteps on the staircase and the sound of children so, feeling the need for a cup of tea and a rethink about what to say to Alec later that could make her stupidly glib message any better, she left the iPad charging, got out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

  It was dark when Thea woke and she thought it must still be the middle of the night but the clock beside her bed told her it was past 7.30. She climbed out of bed, wrapped her robe round her and went to the window to see if there was any sign of sunrise. There wasn’t, but then she was facing west and it was all wrong for finding any silvery glow of dawn. She’d just have to trust there was one on its way, somewhere.

  Below her, she could see the black edges of the garden sloping away down towards the lighter-black sea and she cracked open the window so she could hear it. A stronger wind had arrived in the night and the weather forecast had promised it would be a really cold one. The sea was crashing hard onto the beach below and she could taste salt on the freezing air. An oak tree on the edge of the slope was making groaning sounds and its long bare twigs were lashing about, creating whiplike silhouettes against a low moon that shone palely through racing clouds.

  ‘Thea?’ Her door opened a careful inch and the little anxious face of Milly appeared.

  ‘Morning, sweetie,’ Thea said, closing the window. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘No. Alfie snores and he coughs,’ Milly said, coming into the room and plonking herself straight into the middle of Thea’s bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. ‘And when’s breakfast? Daddy isn’t awake yet. I went to Elmo’s room but he told me to go away and threw a shoe at me. I’m hungry.’

  ‘OK, give me a minute and I’ll come down and get you something to eat. Do you know where the kitchen is? I’ll meet you down there. Bring Alfie too.’

  ‘I know where it is, but …’ Milly’s eyes went big. ‘It’s dark. And the stairs are scary.’

  ‘We must leave some lights on for you tonight then,’ Thea told her, hoping that was the right thing to say. Did Emily and Sam want Milly to feel free to wander this great big house by herself? Probably not. She quickly brushed her hair while Milly jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom to delve into Thea’s makeup bag, starting to pull out blusher and eyeshadow. Alfie, cute in Batman pyjamas and clutching a toy rabbit with a well-sucked ear, came into the room in search of his sister and Thea managed to distract Milly from the delights of an open mascara wand with the promise of French toast. The three of them went downstairs.

  ‘There’s one thing we have to do first,’ Thea told the children as they reached the hallway. ‘And what do you think it is?’

  ‘Go out and buy milk?’ Milly guessed. ‘Daddy’s always having to do that. He forgets.’

  ‘No, it’s not milk. There’s plenty of milk.’ Thea took a hand of each of them and led them into the first sitting room and across to the window. ‘It’s the lights – we have to switch the Christmas-tree lights on, don’t we?’

  ‘That’s so Santa can see where we are,’ Alfie yawned, still sounding sleepy.

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ Milly was scornful.

  ‘Well, it might be,’ Thea said, looking along the wall for the plug. Milly gave her a look.

  Thea found the plug and switched on the lights, and Milly, in spite of her young cynicism, squealed excitedly, ‘Look – that’s our fairy on the top! From home!’

  Emily had made quite an impact with the tree, Thea noted as she looked at Barbie-in-a-wedding-dress splayed wantonly open-legged across the top branch. Still, at least she was wearing knickers. Emily had added her exclusively silver, green and white hyper-tasteful colour scheme to the hotch-potch of multi-coloured decorations that had been there the day before. Thea was willing to bet she’d been in two minds whether to replace them completely, but Anna had been right – there really is no such thing as too much when it comes to jazzing up a Christmas tree. The effect was a crazy excess of shimmer and sparkle.

  ‘It is yours! It’s all very pretty, isn’t it? Now shall we go and light up the other tree and then we can have breakfast?’

  The tree that Rosie had decorated in the smaller sitting room was a cheery mixture of homemade cardboard angels with jolly crayonned faces, knitted robins and cotton wool glitter-spattered snowmen, all of which she must have kept from Elmo’s infant-school days. To her surprise, Thea found this all a bit heartrending and she had to fight back a tear. Each year, Jimi and Rosie must have collected and safely packed away these treasures which Elmo had proudly brought home for the tree. She did the same thing with her pupils, getting them to make decorations just before the end of the Christmas term, watching their pride in their efforts as they concentrated hard, making stars and snowmen and robins with movable wings and being liberal with the glitter, flecks of which would still be shining in classroom corners well into March. She would, she decided, help Milly and Alfie make something fun and Christmassy over the next couple of days. If she had to be stuck with the role of maiden aunt, she’d make sure she was a damn good one.

  ‘Hungry,’ Milly growled, reminding her what they were really all there for. She tugged on Thea’s hand.

  ‘OK, OK, into the kitchen then. Come on. You can beat the eggs for me.’

  Breakfast was a long-drawn-out event as everyone had differing
ideas about what time they wanted it and when. Elmo was last down, sloping dozily into the kitchen after most of them had finished and Thea was helping Anna to clear up.

  Emily grinned at him. ‘Good afternoon, Elmo,’ she said, getting up from her chair and starting to load toast-crumbed plates into the dishwasher.

  ‘Oh, leave him alone, Emily. The boy’s on holiday,’ Anna said. ‘Elmo? Bacon sandwich?’

  Elmo grunted and gave a slight nod.

  ‘That means “Yes, please, and thank you for the kind offer, Gran”,’ Jimi translated.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I got it,’ Anna said as she pulled a pack of bacon from the fridge. ‘I’ve been fluent in teenage for years now. It’s not something you forget.’

  Elmo was halfway through his sandwich and most of the others had dispersed when the back door opened and a bulky red-haired woman in a scarlet coat and with a huge pink scarf came in, bringing a drift of icy air. She was carrying a large box and was followed by a young teenage girl equally bundled up against the cold in a fake-fur-trimmed parka and burdened by another plastic box.

  ‘Hellooo!’ the woman said to the assembled and slightly startled few left at the table. ‘I’m Maria. You all settled in, then? I’ve brought you tonight’s supper.’

  Mike stood up and took the box from her. ‘Hello, Maria. And if you’re the one who cooked last night’s lasagne, you’re extremely welcome. It was delicious. Thank you so much.’

  ‘My pleasure, darlin’. And also my job, of course.’

  Thea took the girl’s box from her, put it on the worktop and opened it. ‘There’s enough here to feed the five thousand!’ she said, carefully taking out a huge dish, taped shut across the top. ‘What have we got in here?’

  ‘I’ve done you a chicken casserole in cider and a choice of vegetables to go with. Me, I’d go jacket potatoes as well, but it’s up to you. Or there’s a pack of rice and some of that quinny stuff I don’t know how to pronounce because I know you up-London folks like that.’ Her eyes sparkled as she said it and Thea laughed, recognizing a tease. The girl hunched further into her parka and backed away towards the door.

  ‘Oh, and this is my daughter, Daisy. Say hello, Daisy.’ The girl uttered a muffled ‘Huh,’ from the depths of her scarf and stared at the floor.

  ‘She’s not as shy as she looks,’ Maria said, nodding across to the girl. ‘And what’s your name there, boy?’ she asked Elmo.

  He looked up from the last of his sandwich (crusts pulled off and left on the plate) and went a bit pink. ‘Elmo,’ he muttered. ‘Hello.’

  ‘You look about Daisy’s age. Could be company for each other over the holiday, couldn’t you? Gets a bit lonely out of school time here in the village for the young ones.’

  Thea felt a twinge of sympathy as Daisy and Elmo shot terrified glances at each other and blushed to matching shades of puce.

  ‘There’s a table-tennis table set up out there in the games room, in that barn down the end of the stable block, did Sean and Paul tell you?’ Maria continued cheerily, putting the last of the supplies in the fridge. ‘Dartboard too. Keep you busy, that could. Right, I’ll be off. I’ll be back in the morning with Christmas Eve supplies. Sean says you want to do your own turkey and all the Christmas Day and Boxing Day food, is that right? I’d already done red cabbage and apples so I might as well bring that in the morning if you want it. My lot won’t touch it, only sprouts and carrots.’

  ‘Fantastic – yes, please. We’ve brought our own turkey; I did tell Sean,’ Anna said.

  Maria whisked her big boxes back out of the door and the two visitors left, but not before Thea had caught an exchange of curious glimpses between Elmo and Daisy. Good, she thought. Maybe he’d have someone to hang out with, if they could get over the bit where they didn’t actually exchange a word.

  ‘Maria’s right – table tennis could keep us all busy,’ Anna said. ‘We should have a tournament.’

  ‘But it’s not on the schedule,’ Jimi teased, looking at Thea.

  ‘I can make room for it,’ she said airily. ‘There are several time slots waiting to be filled in.’

  ‘Oh God, not more organized stuff.’ Emily came back in at that moment. ‘What time’s the compulsory walk? I’ve got presents to wrap and Sam needs to pick up something in Falmouth.’

  ‘In about half an hour, give or take. And no one’s allowed to skive off,’ Mike told her.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Emily did a mock-salute, looking rebellious.

  ‘There’s a pub lunch on me at the end of it,’ he added and she perked up.

  ‘Ah, well, in that case I’ll get the children ready. I’ll have to wrap them up like little parcels. It’s so cold out there.’

  The path to the beach wasn’t very long but it was winding and steep, and had a couple of places with alarmingly sheer drops. Thea took hold of Milly’s hand at the worst bits, wondering if that was the right thing to do – or should she trust the instinctive sure-footedness of the child? She didn’t want to make her fearful but couldn’t bear to watch her skipping along while gazing out to sea, apparently oblivious of the path edge. Emily made Sam carry Alfie on his back, telling the boy that it was for fun, but Thea knew she was terrified he’d trip and fall and bounce bone-crunchingly off the rocks that jutted out through the deceptively soft-looking gorse and heather.

  ‘He’s not light, this lad,’ Sam puffed as they went single-file down the track, leaning into the hillside so the wind wouldn’t blow them to the sand below. ‘Carrying him back up, that’ll be your turn, Em. Equality rules and all that,’ Sam half-turned to tell her.

  ‘We’re not coming back this way,’ she said. ‘And please keep your eyes on the path. I don’t want you tripping, not when you’re supposed to be keeping him safe.’

  ‘I am, I am,’ he said, laughing and jogging Alfie up and down till the little boy giggled.

  They reached the bottom, the drift of shingle between the hillside and the sand, and Thea watched Emily take Alfie from Sam and hug him tight before she put him down on the ground.

  ‘Thanks for watching out for Milly,’ she said to Thea. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if …’ and she blinked hard.

  ‘She’s fine, Em, very sure on her feet. You didn’t need to worry so much.’

  Emily turned on her, snappy. ‘Oh, didn’t I? Well, thanks for the advice. Come back to me on that when you’ve got childr—’ She stopped suddenly and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Tee. Really sorry. Ignore me, I’m just tense.’ She put her arms out. ‘Hug?’

  Thea shook her head, took a deep breath and started walking off after the others, hugging her coat round her against the wind. ‘It’s OK, Emily, forget it,’ she shouted back to her sister. ‘And yes, you’re right; what could I possibly know?’ She strode off on her own towards the sea which was washing foam on to the sand. The shimmering wetness of the beach told her that the tide was going out. Good thing, she thought, otherwise she’d have been childishly tempted to do the angry drama-queen thing and go and stand in the shallows to wait for the rising water to knock her down and carry her off. Bloody Emily. Why didn’t she think? And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know better.

  Emily was peeling off the layers by the time they got to the village pub, tying her jacket round her waist and pushing up her sleeves. She felt restored and freshened by the blasts of cold air and from striding across the beach against the wind, but horribly guilty about what she’d so stupidly said to Thea. How could she have been so thoughtless? She, of all people: the one member of the family in whom Thea had confided all those months ago, a few weeks before Rich had left her. What must she think of her?

  Thea had kept to herself as they walked, stamping along with her head down, slightly apart from the rest of them. Emily wanted to go to her and apologize again, but was afraid to broach the subject. If she left it, it would surely just drift away. It would have to – you couldn’t have bad feeling at Christmas, it wasn’t allowed. They had to keep up the good-spirits thi
ng otherwise the whole family would want to know why. Things would be said, explanations demanded if anyone noticed the two of them avoiding each other. It would be fine. Later on, she would make it fine. She would.

  The walk had been a circular one of about two miles – across the beach, up the other side, across the road and along a path through the woods. Jimi, who was there under protest and would have preferred to stay on the sofa in front of the fire, was carrying yesterday’s newspaper folded at the crossword and would occasionally stop to write in an answer. Eventually he was trailing, followed at an even greater distance by Elmo, who slouched along with his hands up his sleeves and his hood up, having refused to wear a coat so as not to sacrifice any tiny fraction of cool.

  ‘Do you have to?’ Rosie said to Jimi. ‘If I can manage this with my headache, you could at least show a bit of grace.’

  ‘I’m stopping my brain from seizing up. You should try it some time – it would probably fix those heads of yours.’

  ‘It’s tension, not rot,’ she said.

  ‘Ah – thirteen across! Satellite dish!’ was his reply.

  Beneath the wind-rocked trees the small children kicked at soggy heaps of fallen leaves and Alfie rolled in something that smelled vile.

  ‘Fox,’ Anna, now they were in the pub, told Emily, who was sniffing at her boy’s sleeve and trying to identify which bit to scrub at with a tissue. ‘You won’t get that smell off until you put it through the washing machine.’