Snow Angels, Secrets and Christmas Cake

by Sue Watson

  Tamsin nodded, her eyes closed. ‘So I believe – apparently Marjory was beyond distressed to hear the British Telecom lady describe her only son’s penis as “a nasty little maggot”.’

  I couldn’t stop myself and burst out laughing. Tamsin was mortified, but even she had the glimmer of a smile across her face and eventually laughed with me.

  ‘Will you call them to apologise?’ I asked when I’d stopped laughing. ‘Or will you be calling them with further penis updates?’ I laughed again.

  ‘It’s gone beyond that – they are talking injunctions, Simon’s trying to calm things his end.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ I said.

  We sat silently for a few seconds but I couldn’t leave it.

  ‘Maggot?’

  ‘Nasty little maggot... get it right,’ she giggled. ‘I also said he’d never been good in bed; that I’d been responsible for my own orgasms since 1998; and when I shouted “yes, yes”, it wasn’t sexual relief, I had just been glad it was all over.’

  I looked at her; ‘And the BT lady told Marjory and Fred all this?’

  ‘Apparently. Simon said he was hurt... that he’d have appreciated it if I’d told him.’

  ‘Rather than calling his parents to give them the blow by blow account of your disappointing sex life?’ I said.

  She started laughing again. ‘Oh I can see Marjory’s face now, shuffling to the phone and picking it up, anxious to hear from Simon...’ she was doubled over now.

  ‘And instead it was the BT lady with a tirade of disgusting and graphic details about her son’s sexual technique... or lack of,’ I added, joining her in hysterical laughter. When we’d eventually calmed down, I carried on wrapping Jacob’s presents and Tamsin resumed her in-depth study on swimwear, but every now and then she’d look up over her Vogue and say ‘maggot’ and we’d both fall about laughing all over again.

  * * *

  So there were times when Tamsin and I really enjoyed each other’s company and deep down, despite her brittle exterior, she could be very funny and we shared that sense of humour. But it wasn’t all laughs – my sister was interfering, controlling, annoying, a snob and a drama queen. And her presence and lack of tact wasn’t doing much for my relationship with Richard either. Our time together had always been limited (by me) to weekends and the odd week night – and I never wanted him to stay the whole night. I hadn’t been ready – every time I thought about a potential future with Richard I saw Steve’s face and the guilt overwhelmed me.

  Before Tamsin had moved in Richard would sometimes spend the evening at the flat with Jacob and I, then later when Jacob was in bed we’d have time alone. Now our evenings were spent watching television with Tamsin. I’d wanted her to feel at home so didn’t object when she said we all had to watch Mastermind and answer the questions – she was so competitive she’d shout her answers over ours. It seemed to cheer her up so I didn’t mind, but felt torn trying to be a girlfriend to Richard and a sister to Tamsin. I achieved neither – and I never won Mastermind.

  On a practical note, Richard and I couldn’t be alone in my bedroom now either because I shared with Tamsin. It was early days, but I could see the situation becoming more difficult as time went on.

  ‘Perhaps you and I could go out?’ he suggested on the phone one day when we discussed the problem. ‘If Tamsin’s there she can keep an eye on Jacob and we could just go for a meal... it would be good to have some time on our own.’

  I agreed it would be good to have some time alone and I also badly needed a break from my sister.

  Tamsin was delighted to babysit and that evening when Richard turned up to collect me it felt like a proper date – which was lovely. We’d never really had a traditional ‘courtship’, as Tamsin called it, because we’d originally met through the kids. He’d started as a friend and then things had gone further, and though we missed out on the early frisson, we’d never had that ‘first date’ or awkwardness that comes with new relationships.

  I thought about how this Christmas would be so different from the previous one. I had only just opened the bakery this time last year when I met Richard. I had literally bumped into him on the school run. I’d walked Jacob to school through the snow and slush, enjoying various en-route snowball fights and games where we slid along on our bottoms. When we arrived at the school there were no yummy mummies in perfect make-up and designer snow wear as there had been earlier in the week. I was at first relieved, as we were both wet through and those women made me feel stupid and ugly at the best of times. They’d gaze at me as I walked past them, catching each other’s smoky eyes and looking in my direction, a glance at my wrist tattoo, a snigger at my ankle bracelets in the summer. I wasn’t like them, they didn’t understand me, and most people’s reactions to something or someone they don’t understand is to be scared. I had no desire to belong in their gang – and clearly the feeling was mutual, I just wished they didn’t make me feel like I was 14 years old again.

  Anyway, the absence of their perfectly made-up mean faces soon became clear as Jacob and I wandered to the school gates and saw the sign saying ‘Closed today due to bad weather.’

  It was a bit of snow for God’s sake, why close the school? It wasn’t going to kill anyone to walk through it. Besides, most of the shiny mummies around here drove the few yards from their homes to the school in massive cars which were more like armoured military patrol vehicles, all shiny black with a stylish capacity to cope in any war zone, siege, nuclear attack… or school run.

  ‘Oh shit,’ I sighed.

  ‘Oh shit,’ Jacob imitated, folding his chunky little arms in indignation at the ‘stupid school’.

  ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ I said, in mock seriousness.

  He nodded. He had no idea, but was going with it.

  ‘We have to take our sledge on blackberry Hill,’ I said, pretending despair, starting to walk and shaking my head, waiting for the inevitable reaction. The shrill screeching of pure delight this last statement produced echoed around the empty white stillness of the school playground and provoked an impromptu shrieking competition between the two of us. And I wondered why the yummy mummies hated me? Our screaming competition went on for some time until Jacob’s shrieks were suddenly accompanied by a jumping up and down and running around in circles like a puppy dog who just saw his owner.

  ‘Ella... Ella...’ he’d yelled, pogoing through the snow and bounding up to a little person who had suddenly appeared in the otherwise deserted playground. 'Ella... Ella, it’s me Jacob... I’m over here.’ I couldn’t see clearly because the snow was falling quite heavily now and Jacob was pulling on my hand and dragging me across to join Ella and what looked like her parent. My heart sank, I just couldn’t do small talk with a perfect mummy. I braced myself, but as we approached I saw through the white blur this was no yummy mummy dressed in designer waterproofs and a ‘cute’ bobble hat. It was Ella’s dad.

  ‘I guess you guys did the same as us?’ he said.

  I could just about see his face through the swirling flakes as we got closer. I recognised him from parents’ evening. I remembered chatting to him and his wife once, while waiting in the queue to see Mrs Robinson. And he’d just witnessed me having a shrieking competition with my son in the school playground. Great.

  ‘We’re going sledging on Blackberry Hill,’ Jacob yelled in Ella’s face.

  ‘Jacob, just because it’s snowing it doesn’t mean everyone’s gone deaf,’ I laughed. I was now trying to redeem myself and sound like a responsible parent having just wailed like a banshee.

  ‘Sledging sounds good,’ Ella’s Dad said as we all began walking away from the school in the same direction. ‘Do you mind if we come along?’

  ‘Yessss... Ella, you and your dad are coming sledging with us,’ Jacob was still yelling in her face.

  ‘Yay,’ she yelled back into his... apparently snow deafness was a thing.

  Anyway, that day as the kids sledged up and down the hill, Richa
rd and I chatted and it turned out he was divorced, and it turned out I liked his smile. Later, when the kids insisted we both go downhill together on the sledge, it turned out I liked the way he held me. And, when Ella was safely home with her grandma and Jacob was in bed that evening... it turned out I liked the way he made love.

  Tamsin of course had been horrified. ‘Good grief, I know I said you have to move on love, but picking lone fathers up from the school gate?’ she’d said, standing in her kitchen, hands on hips disapproval on face.

  ‘Yeah, well why waste time with small talk? I carry my sex toys in a Perspex bag for the school run... you never know when you’re going to spot a ‘lone father.’

  I told Richard (and Tamsin) from the beginning that I wasn’t going to fall in love and wasn’t looking for another husband... I’d had the best. I told Richard that no one could ever replace Steve for me or Jacob, and I didn’t intend to marry again, which at first he was okay with.

  However we’d now been together almost a year, and Richard was talking anniversary and future and I was talking casual and no commitment. That night we walked through the snowy square from the bakery to the restaurant, holding hands. It felt good to be out with Richard, like a proper date – his hand in the small of my back as we walked into the warm, garlic and tomato spiced air, his eyes on mine as we sat across the table from each other. I liked being with him, I liked how he made me feel about myself – and I liked how we were as a couple too. We chatted animatedly with each other and he made me laugh and I wondered if a future with Richard was possible after all?

  We ordered pasta and red wine and talked about Christmas.

  ‘I’ll have Tamsin and the kids and Heddon and Hall are threatening to join us,’ I laughed, ‘so much for my planned little Christmas with Jacob.’

  ‘I could help you?’ he offered, suddenly seeing an opportunity to take our relationship up a notch by spending Christmas Day together. Ella was spending Christmas with his soon-to-be ex-wife and it would be the first Christmas Richard wasn’t with her. I felt for him, I couldn’t imagine not seeing Jacob on Christmas day, but Richard had lots of friends who had already asked him to spend the day with them - he wouldn’t be alone.

  ‘I don’t mind sharing you with your sister and her friends. Jacob’s my little mate... it would be good to spend some of it together and I can help out with the cooking.’

  I worried it was too soon to bring him into the family, would it give Jacob the wrong idea too, that Richard was his new dad? Although Jacob had only been 1 when Steve died and had no memories of his father, I’d tried to speak about Steve when I could and show Jacob pictures. If someone new was going to come into his life, I needed to know that he would stay around. It was about so much more than just about Christmas lunch. I gazed across the restaurant trying to work out how to tell Richard that I was scared to say yes. Scared to take our relationship to the next level. What if it all fell apart again? Then I spotted Tamsin’s friend Phaedra. Her skinny, worked-out arms and fake tan stood out a mile in the middle of December. I thought of Tamsin sitting at home waiting for her call and was suddenly filled with rage.

  ‘Excuse me a moment,’ I said to Richard, standing up, dropping my napkin and heading to her table. Phaedra looked up as I approached and perhaps assuming I was going to the ladies she put her head down, pretending not to see me and no doubt hoping I wouldn’t see her. This heightened my anger; how dare she abandon my sister at a time like this, how dare she not call or phone or even send a bloody note to ask how she is.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, loudly.

  She blushed scarlet, even through the layers of make-up, and looked up from her plate of leaves.

  ‘Oh... hi er Sam.’

  She glanced at her dining companion and smirked, embarrassed. Her friend looked up, false lashes fluttering questioningly, matching fake tanned arms and a forkful of leaves suspended in surprise.

  ‘My sister’s okay, thanks for asking,’ I stood over her, just glaring into her face.

  ‘Oh... I was going to... call her... I.’

  ‘Call her now, she’s home alone, you have her number don’t you?’

  ‘Well I... it’s not convenient.’

  ‘Oh Phaedra, love, I can only imagine.’ I said in mock concern. ‘How rude of me to interrupt your meal and demand you spare a minute to call your friend, who’s just lost everything she owned. I’m sure you’ve been so busy, you just couldn’t fit it in. Where do the days go? What with the manicures, the shopping and those endless exhausting massages at the spa...’

  ‘Look, now isn’t the time for this. Speak to her husband he’s the one who’s run off with another woman and left her penniless... it’s nothing to do with me.’

  ‘It has everything to do with people like you, Phaedra,’ I turned around and marched back to the table. Her comment about Simon having ‘run off with another woman’ had shaken me. What the hell did she mean by that? Had Simon cheated on Tamsin? Did she know and was keeping it from me?

  Back at the table, I told a surprised Richard, who’d been able to see the encounter but not hear it, what had just happened.

  ‘I wouldn’t take comments like that too seriously,’ he said. ‘Simon had a reputation for being a bit of a player...’

  ‘Did he? Really? I thought that was just Tamsin being paranoid.’

  ‘Yeah but take what Phaedra said with a pinch of salt. Simon has a bit of a reputation, and people have put two and two together assuming he’s run off with another woman.’

  It made sense, and I didn’t want to add to Tamsin’s woes by telling her what Phaedra said – it probably wasn’t true and would only make things worse.

  ‘So, Christmas?’ he said, again.

  I groaned.

  ‘It’s only Christmas dinner – not the rest of your life, Sam, for God’s sake,’ he seemed a little angry and after my encounter with Phaedra I didn’t want to discuss turkey and sprouts with Richard. I suddenly didn’t want to eat any more pasta. I just wanted to go home.

  Yes, it was only Christmas dinner, and I was aware of that, but there were implications for me and Jacob. I know Richard felt I was over thinking it all, but now I had other stuff filling my head and I just wanted some space.

  It was still early so I suggested we go back to mine. I couldn’t stay in the same restaurant as that woman and if Richard and I were going to have another bloody argument about Christmas I didn’t want an audience and an Italian soundtrack.

  When we arrived back, the lights were out – perhaps Tamsin had finally got the message that Richard and I needed time alone and had gone to bed? Everything was deliciously quiet and calm, just as it had been before Tamsin had ‘invaded’ when Richard and I could sit alone in the living room with Jacob safely tucked up in bed. I began to relax, and putting Phaedra to the back of my mind I poured us both a glass of wine and we lay together on cushions by the dying embers of the fire. ‘I do care about you,’ I said into the semi-darkness.

  ‘I know and I care about you too, a lot, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. I can't wait forever, Sam.’

  He hadn’t talked like this before and I think all the stress over Tamsin had made us both a little edgy.

  ‘I’m not asking you to wait forever. I just need some time,’ I sighed, kissing him. He kissed me back, and by the twinkly lights of the tree I felt warm and Christmassy and I liked his arms around me. I realised that I’d missed the intimate closeness of him, and once we’d started kissing, we were soon naked, our flesh warm and touching from top to toe. Silently, I climbed on top of him, looking down into his handsome face, forgetting for a few minutes about Tamsin’s troubles and all the baking I had to do. I stopped worrying about tomorrow and lost myself in him. His grey eyes flickered in the firelight. I ran my fingers along his chest and neck and leaned down to kiss his face. I could feel his slim, firm hips beneath me as his hands caressed me and though I wanted to groan with ecstasy I restrained myself. I pushed onto him, my knees on the rug, m
y face now touching his as I kissed his lips. We rocked backwards and forwards for a little while, and I sat up straight still moving, still feeling him inside me – God, it was good and getting better until... I became aware of a rustling behind me.

  ‘Is that you, making that noise?’ I whispered to Richard.

  ‘Oh no it’s only me, Tamsin... I’m not looking. I just need that copy of Woman and Home.’

  I leaped off Richard and we both lay their naked and stunned.

  ‘Woman and Home? Really?’ I hissed at the silk-dressing-gowned figure now delving into the magazine rack completely unabashed.

  ‘Well, quite. It’s not my preferred reading material – but my subscription to Vogue has probably cancelled itself. One has to economise...’ she sighed, locating the magazine and giving a little wave. ‘Good evening Richard. I didn’t see a thing,’ she added as she left for the bedroom.

  We both rolled over, turning to each other and suddenly laughing with embarrassment. I hid my face in his neck. I was hot with horror and stayed hidden for a few minutes, but one thing led to another and we were about to carry on where we’d left off when the bloody door opened again. This time I screamed as our naked bodies were flooded with light from the kitchen, which made Tamsin scream too.

  ‘Oh you frightened me to death!’ she had the cheek to say.

  ‘Tamsin for Christ’s sake don’t just walk in...’

  ‘I’m just popping into the kitchen, anyone fancy a Sumatra Wahana?’

  ‘NO,’ we both shouted, though Richard did add, ‘thanks, er, Tamsin.’

  I turned to see him lying there, both hands over his groin, a pained look on his face.

  ‘Perhaps she’d like a quick round of Mastermind?’ he sighed, clearly frustrated.

  ‘Carry on... don’t mind me, I’ll just make my coffee and take it straight to the bedroom,’ she trilled from the kitchen. But she’d have to walk back through the living room to reach the bedroom so any minute would be back in again. We lay there in silence, listening to the gobbling Gaggia and Tamsin singing a Christmas medley, and by the time she wandered back in with her steaming coffee and magazine, lust had fizzled into the air like a dying sparkler. We hadn’t had many opportunities like this over recent days and once she’d settled back in the bedroom with her magazine we tried half-heartedly to continue where we left off. But after a while we both gave up. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this... not with that,’ I gestured to the bedroom where she was now singing Celine Dion.