by Judy Astley
There she was. Charlotte was perched on a bar stool in a white fun-fur coat and a pink and purple striped scarf that was long enough to please an old Dr Who. She was halfway down a large glass of red wine, some of which had added to the outside line of her lipstick, and as she looked up and waved to him he wished he could turn and run out and slither straight back to Cove Manor.
‘Darling!’ Charlotte squealed at Mike as he crossed to the bar. She leaped off the stool as nimbly as if she weighed half as much as she did and clasped him to her. He inhaled a mixture of warm, strong perfume and a mildly doggish scent from the coat as if a damp spaniel had recently slept on it.
‘Isn’t this amazing? To get together so far from home? Such luck that Ivan was driving this way.’
‘Wasn’t it. How are you?’ Mike ordered another red wine for her (‘better make it another big one’) and a pint of Doom Bar for himself, hoping the name wasn’t prophetic, then he led her to a corner table by the far window where the rest of the pub could be reasonably sheltered from the volume of her voice.
‘I’ve been better, darling, frankly,’ she said, taking a large glug of wine. ‘Truth is, I’ve been fired. Surplus to requirements, it seems, though why they couldn’t tell me this at rehearsal stage, I’ve no idea. They’ve paid me and Ivan off for the next two weeks but it comes down to the bloody dancers having reasonable singing voices and taking over from us to save costs. So here I am.’
‘Sorry about the gig, Charlie. But never mind, surely it means you can get back to London for Christmas?’
‘Ha! You’d think. It was too late to book a seat on a Christmas Eve train, darling, and they won’t let you on without a reservation at this time of the year. So I thought I might as well stay put. I’m supposed to be staying with Ivan and his mum, but …’ She looked out of the window at the fast-falling snow and shrugged. ‘Well, who knows if he’ll make it back to collect me? I mean, look at it out there. And he’s only got a Mini. He’s going to call in an hour, let me know.’
Mike felt as if he were missing a vital point here. Then his foot struck something under the table and he saw that she had with her a fair-sized blue suitcase, sitting by her side like a good dog. This wasn’t looking promising. The deal had been, she’d said, ‘a quick drink’, not ‘I’m moving in with you’. She surely couldn’t expect that, could she? With his entire family? This was beginning to look like Anna’s bloody Alec situation all over again.
‘Oh, the snow isn’t that bad,’ Mike said, trying to sound breezy. ‘It’ll probably have melted by the time we’ve had lunch.’ He looked at the stuff falling outside, willing the temperature to rise just enough degrees to turn it to rain.
‘Do you think so? Well, let’s see.’ Charlotte rubbed a hand on his thigh. ‘After all, there could be worse things than you rescuing me from being marooned in this terrible snow, don’t you think?’ She opened her green eyes wide and pouted at him. ‘And I’d be so very grateful.’
NINE
‘Ah, that’s beautiful. Just how a Christmas cake should look,’ Thea told Milly and Alfie. She’d made a big batch of royal icing and the children had taken a spatula each and splattered the cake’s marzipan topping with icing much in the manner of Jackson Pollock constructing a painting. But with Thea’s help and patience, and a lot of scooping of misplaced dollops from the worktop to the cake (and from the wall and floor to the bin), they’d finally got it done. Milly had been particularly good at flicking up the icing to make the cake’s surface look as if someone had been playing in the snow.
‘Let me do the robins?’ Alfie asked, opening the box of cake decorations that Anna had brought with her.
‘OK, you do the robins and Milly can put the little trees on.’ The decorations were ancient. Thea handled them carefully, remembering them from her own childhood. It didn’t seem that long since she too had been standing on a kitchen chair, carefully placing the plaster snowman in the centre of a roughly iced cake.
‘You have the patience of a saint, Tee,’ Sam said as he handed her a mug of tea. ‘If that had been me there’d have been a good loud tantrum and at least three bouts of tears by now. And the children wouldn’t have been much better either.’
Thea laughed. ‘It’s only a matter of giving them each something to do at the same time, so it’s as fair as it can be. Children tend not to argue with “fair”. They get it.’
‘You’re keeping us well supplied with comfort food. I’ve had about four of those mince pies you made this morning. Don’t tell Emily, though, she thinks I’m—’
‘Thinks you’re what?’ Emily came into the kitchen carrying the children’s coats. She draped them over the Aga rail.
‘Thinks I’m getting porky.’ Sam patted his middle.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Emily said, eying the bit of him he’d patted.
‘You didn’t need to, darling. You just give me those eyebrows-up looks sometimes when I have second helpings.’
‘Do I?’ Emily looked upset. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to.’
‘But I’m allowed to eat as much as I like over Christmas, aren’t I?’ Sam asked. ‘If I promise to do a New Year diet?’
‘I already said. You’re fine as you are. You don’t have to go on a diet.’
‘See?’ Thea said to him. ‘Permission granted.’
‘Unless you think you should, obviously.’ Emily gave Thea a sly grin and laid the children’s mittens and scarves on top of the Aga, above the coats. She sent Milly and Alfie to wash their hands as it was getting close to the time they all had to leave for the Crib service at the village church.
‘Right.’ Sam looked glum. ‘Well, that’s me told.’
Just then Jimi came in with Rosie. ‘Told what?’ he enquired.
‘Apparently I’m fat.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘No, tummy.’ Sam patted his front again.
‘Oh, ha ha. Listen, while we’re all in here, what do we think about this Alec bloke rocking up?’
Thea put the cake on a plate and a mesh cover over the top then placed it on a shelf in the larder.
‘It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’ Emily said. ‘Has Mum mentioned him before?’ They all looked at Thea.
‘Hey, what makes you think I’d know?’
‘You’re the senior daughter,’ Emily said. ‘And you talked to her about Rich, so …’
‘I didn’t though, not really. There wasn’t much point, seeing as she didn’t ever take to him. I told her it was over, she hugged me and just about managed not to say, “Phew” and “Oh good” and that was about it. She’s never said anything about an Alec.’
‘That’s probably because it’s no big deal.’ Rosie shrugged. ‘She said he was a friend’s son, so that’ll be all there is to it. We’ll be nice to him.’ She gave Emily a stern look. ‘Won’t we? All of us.’
‘Of course we will. Why wouldn’t we be? It can’t be the most comfortable thing, going to stay for Christmas with a bunch of strangers.’
Sam said, ‘I think I’d just have stayed at home. Telly’s good, you can catch up on box-sets and eat fried-egg sandwiches if you want.’
‘Perhaps he lerves her,’ Jimi suggested.
‘What?’ Emily’s eyebrows went up. ‘What, Mum?’
‘Why not Mum? She’s still a cool woman.’
‘But she’s Mum.’
‘Yeah, and your point is?’ Jimi wasn’t going to let it go.
Thea looked at the clock. They really should get off if they were going to make the carol service. Where were the parents? Was Mike really still down at the pub? How long did it take to sort out a couple of slots at a music night?
‘Well, the “why not” is because – well, isn’t she a bit …’ Emily was struggling here.
‘Past All That Nonsense?’ Sam teased, putting on a prim voice. ‘She’s been looking particularly well lately, so maybe she’s got lucky. Free spirit, your mum. And soon to be divorced as well.’
‘“Got lucky”? Oh, don’t be so rid
iculous, Sam!’ Emily looked furious. ‘They’re not breaking up because of other people.’
‘I didn’t say they were. I was just saying—’
‘Well, don’t. Come on, let’s get these children into their coats. I don’t want us to end up crammed into a pew at the back. They won’t be able to see what’s going on. Will someone phone Dad? Perhaps he could meet us at the church – if, of course, he’s not too busy chatting up some young bar girl and getting lucky like Mum.’
Anna sat in the car trying to concentrate on reading the paper. She couldn’t take in a single word. Not even the double-page spread about the expected extreme weather conditions in the far south-west of England and the usual photos of Gatwick chaos for the Christmas getaway. Instead she listened to the service of Nine Lessons and Carols from King’s College, Cambridge, on the radio and really wished she was hearing it back at the house with the others, pre-cooking the vol-au-vent cases ready for their parsnip and sorrel fillings the next day and helping the children choose a carrot to leave out for Santa’s reindeer.
She thought about how on earth it was going to be, introducing Alec to Mike. Alec was well aware of the score, knew that Mike was still (on paper) Anna’s husband, and yet he seemed to have no qualms about coming to stay with them all. It was her own fault, she decided, for having so breezily claimed that she was a free woman. Though come to think of it, he hadn’t ever actually asked if she was. She’d volunteered the information the first time they’d gone out for dinner together and he’d told her about his difficult divorce. She’d been sympathetic and it had probably been tactless to tell him that she and Mike were so cheerfully and good-naturedly separated.
‘But you live in the same house still?’ He’d been surprised. Most people would be, to be fair.
‘Well, yes, why not?’ She’d been defensive. As far as she could remember, he hadn’t answered that but had asked instead if they should have another bottle.
The train wasn’t late. She was surprised – given the snow that must have surely been heavier further north and east – that it had got further than Exeter. It wasn’t too bad in Truro, far lighter than where they were staying and she hoped it would have stopped by the time she and Alec got back. Having to dig the car out of a drift would just about be the perfect extra treat for the afternoon.
She climbed out of the car, rubbing her back as it was aching from the wait, and walked across the station forecourt where a gaudily painted wooden sleigh was parked among the waiting taxis, flashing scarlet lights and blasting out American-accented carols. A short fat Santa with a slightly menacing stare shook a Rotary Club tin at her and she put a couple of pounds in, then went through the little waiting room to the platform where the train stood whirring and revving as if impatient to get on with its last trip till after Boxing Day. That was another thing, she thought with some trepidation. If things all went wrong at Cove Manor, there would be no get-out for Alec, trainwise, because that was it till after Boxing Day – and even then there’d be a reduced service. They were all stuck with each other for the duration.
On the platform, passengers struggling with luggage and bags full of wrapped presents were being welcomed by friends and family. Some clutched mistletoe and reunited lovers kissed and hugged and laughed. And then suddenly there was Alec, hauling a wheeled case and wearing a huge black coat and a Manchester United scarf. He was carrying an elaborately wrapped bouquet of flowers she couldn’t yet see, which poked out of a Harrods carrier bag with something big and round in it.
‘Anna!’ he called, only a few feet from her. ‘Soo good to see you!’ It was a tight hug and she tried not to interpret this as having a certain amount of needy desperation about it. People got depressed at Christmas. Wasn’t it known to be the worst time of year for suicide? She realized how little she knew of him, really. The best option would be to assume all was well unless he said otherwise, in which case whatever issue came up could be talked through and dealt with as cheerily as possible. There was no point being pessimistic.
‘Great to see you too, Alec. The car is just out the front. What was the snow like on the way down?’
‘Hardly any in London. I think it’s all down here.’
‘So, the complete opposite to usual then. It’s usually Kent, isn’t it?’
‘Global warming, maybe?’
They were talking about the weather like a couple of strangers, she thought as they went outside and got into the car.
‘I brought cheese,’ Alec said, once they were in the car. He held up the Harrods bag.
Anna started to giggle. She tried to stop but couldn’t and had to scrabble in her bag for tissues to wipe her eyes.
‘What’s so hilarious? What’s wrong with cheese?’
‘Nothing wrong, just that you said it so seriously and it sounded so funny! It’s Christmas and you tell me you bring cheese. You sounded like one of the Three Wise Men offering a gift. I love it.’
‘Cheese is good then. That’s a relief. It’s Stilton,’ Alec said, starting to smile a bit.
‘Stilton is very OK, thank you. And it’s far more use than myrrh.’
‘Do your family know I’m coming?’ Alec asked as Anna drove up the hill out of Truro.
Strange question, she thought. Surely he hadn’t imagined she’d just turn up with him as if she’d found him in Sainsbury’s? ‘Yes, of course. I told them all this morning.’
‘What about your husband?’
‘Mike? He’s fine.’
Alec sounded a bit worried. Strange he hadn’t had these doubts before he left. Still, too late now. All would be well. The season to be jolly and all that.
‘Listen, it’s a wonderful house, the family are all in good form and there’s nothing to worry about. Trust me, you are very welcome.’
It sounded convincing enough, she thought. It was only for a few days and they’d all get by on Christmas spirit. And if that ran out, there was always the other sort: they were well stocked up on gin.
Mike was going to miss the carol service. He didn’t particularly mind – he’d been to many of the same over his lifetime and he doubted there’d be anything new at this one. But he did like singing carols. There was something comfortingly uplifting about them, their changelessness. It was a sort of annual anchoring to a collective goodwill. If he were of a whimsical bent, he’d say it gave you hope, at least till you read the first post-Christmas headlines and the mood was shot down by whichever new atrocity had happened out there in the world.
What he did mind was missing the service because of Charlotte. He’d managed to dissuade her from a fourth glass of wine by promising there’d be plenty more back at the house later. Because now she was going to be at the house. Staying. How had it come to this?
‘Ivan just called and he says he’s very sorry,’ Charlotte told Mike as he came back from the loo. She waved her phone at him as if it were likely to speak and add its own apology and a back-up confirmation of this news. ‘Apparently the Mini got as far as his parents’ but it won’t get up the hill out of there again. So he’s stuck.’
He’s not the only one, Mike thought. What on earth was he going to do with her?
‘I suppose they might be able to find me a room here at the pub,’ she said, doing a downcast face. ‘Just a small one, in a corner. I don’t need anything much.’
‘It won’t come to that,’ Mike reassured her, as he knew he was meant to. ‘Obviously you must come and stay with us.’
‘Really?’ Her face lit right up, rather too fast, Mike thought. He felt outmanoeuvred. What was she up to? Had she actually made any arrangement with this Ivan? Possibly not. Though why she’d want to gatecrash his family Christmas, he had no idea. She’d never before shown much sign of wanting a relationship that was either exclusive or permanent. It had been one of the things he most liked about her. If she wanted to move them as a couple on to a new level, there were more subtle ways. And ways that surely could wait till the New Year.
‘Won’t your wife mi
nd? I mean, I know you’re not officially together, but …’
Yes, she would mind, was Mike’s honest opinion but he kept it to herself. And besides, with this Alec person about to descend on them, Anna was hardly in a position to complain. Sleeping arrangements might be tricky, though. It would take some thinking through. With Alec on the premises, all eight rooms would be occupied. The thought that Anna might then consider it logical, after all, to have Alec sharing her room was one Mike felt horribly uncomfortable about. Why had he ever thought he wouldn’t? This divorce business didn’t seem to be as simple as the two of them had blithely imagined.
‘I’m only small, I can sleep on a little sofa somewhere out of the way,’ Charlotte said, flickering her eyelashes at him.
Small wouldn’t be how Mike would describe her, but again, he kept that thought to himself.
She put her foot out and rubbed it against his. ‘Or we could …’
‘No, I don’t think we could.’ Mike was firm on that. ‘Not tactful. Bad manners, even. But it’ll be all right. Anna has a friend staying, so why not me? Goose, sauce, gander – all that.’
He started to cheer up. This could be fun, bringing this loud, blowsy guest into their midst. If she calmed down a bit on the gestures of affection and managed to keep her hands to herself and not embarrass them all (OK, to be honest, he meant him), she might well be the life and soul. He’d maybe ask Thea to schedule in a music hour that evening. Charlotte had a hell of a voice and the two of them, with him on guitar, sounded pretty damn good together. And they could do the session at the pub too, Boxing Day evening.
The bar was now almost empty and he realized they’d been there way too long. ‘Hey, look at the time. We’d better get back. It might be an idea if you’re already there when the others get back from the carol service. That way, it’s a sort of fait accompli. Grab your coat, honey, you’ve pulled.’