by Dani Atkins
Alex sat on the settee watching his son, a mulled wine in his hands and sadness in his eyes. He’d spent more than they’d ever done before on Connor’s presents, knowing all the while that the thing he wanted most was something he couldn’t give him.
It was a truth that had been brought home to him just a week before. Connor had spent the day with Dee and Maisie, allowing Alex to devote some time to meetings at the office. Dee was busily chopping vegetables for their evening meal when Alex wandered into the kitchen to collect his son. She raised her head to greet him, her eyes as red as her hair.
‘Onions?’ he asked, swiping a carrot stick from the pile on the board, before noticing the onions were actually still waiting to be peeled and sliced.
Dee shook her head, wiping the back of one hand furiously over her cheek. There was a part of Alex that had already guessed why she was crying, even before she explained.
‘I took the kids to the garden centre this afternoon. You know, the one across town that has the really great Father Christmas grotto?’
Alex nodded, realising where this story was going, and not liking it.
‘Maisie typically took twice as long as all the other kids giving Santa her wish list.’ Dee smiled, even though her eyes were again filling with tears. ‘And then it was Connor’s turn.’
Alex was leaning against the kitchen units. Though he was making a big effort to appear relaxed, the tension was thrumming within him, like power through a pylon. At his sides, his hands were balled tightly into fists.
‘The queue had built up while Maisie was wittering on. I guess everyone was hoping Connor wasn’t going to take as long as she had.’
Alex saw the scene in his head as clearly as if he’d been there. He almost told Dee she didn’t need to finish her story – he already knew how it was going to end.
‘Connor looked so serious when it was his turn. And when the guy asked him what he wanted for Christmas, he said… He said…’ Dee was having trouble getting the words past the lump in her throat.
‘That he wanted his mummy to come home,’ Alex completed.
Dee nodded dumbly and reached for a handful of tissues from the box on the worktop. ‘Santa just about held it together, but both of the elves were crying, as were half the mums waiting in the queue.’ She blew her nose noisily. ‘It was carnage in the grotto.’
Alex crossed the room in two quick strides and enveloped her in a huge hug, which was every bit as much for him as it was for her.
‘He still thinks she’s coming back for him,’ Dee whispered sadly into his shirt front.
‘I know,’ Alex said into the ruffled mess of her hair. ‘Lisa made a promise to him before she left the house on that last morning.’
‘About taking him to the Astronomy Fair?’
‘Yes. Until we get past that day, I don’t think he’s ever going to accept she’s not coming back.’
*
It was two days after Christmas, in the wasteland period before New Year’s Eve – another date on the calendar which Alex was already dreading. A compilation of previous celebrations kept running through his head, from boozy parties in the pre-Connor days to quiet nights beside the fireplace, sharing a bottle of wine and a lingering kiss as one year transitioned into the next. Alex closed his eyes, shutting out the brightly lit kitchen, and could almost feel the heat of Lisa’s skin against his body once more; her breath mingling with his; her heart pounding in tandem with his own. With every beat of my heart. He groaned softly.
A knock on the front door was a very welcome interruption. Alex’s footsteps quickened as he walked the length of the hallway and saw a slight figure through the frosted glass panel. He’d been trying very hard to banish all thoughts of Molly over the last few weeks, but it was startling how quickly she’d leapfrogged straight into his head. She was still very much on his mind as he opened the door, and it threw him that she wasn’t the caller waiting on his doorstep. It took him a moment to swiftly rearrange his features into a more appropriate expression.
‘Barbara, this is a lovely surprise,’ he exclaimed, bending down and kissing her soft, powdered cheek. Her trademark smell of lily of the valley filled his senses as she hugged him.
‘Come in out of the cold,’ he urged, stepping back to usher her into his home. But she seemed oddly reluctant. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked, his heart skipping a beat in panic. ‘Are you feeling well? Is there a problem?’
The four lives Lisa had changed were immediately in his thoughts. He caught a fleeting glimpse of his future and knew he was always going to worry about them. Not just because Lisa lived on through them, but because he’d come to genuinely care about each of them.
‘Not wrong, exactly,’ Barbara said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. ‘Although I am a little worried about how you’re going to react. I have a feeling you might not be very happy with me.’
Alex gave a small laugh. It was impossible to imagine this sweet old lady doing anything he’d disapprove of. ‘What have you done – robbed a bank?’ he teased.
Barbara was giving him only half her attention; the rest was focused on something she’d positioned just out of sight beside his door. ‘If only it was that simple,’ she said mysteriously, nervously biting on her lower lip.
Alex was starting to get concerned now. ‘Barbara, whatever it is, I’m here for you. You know that. If there’s a problem, if something’s bothering you, we can figure it out together.’
His words of reassurance brought a smile to her worried face. ‘Oh good. I really hope you remember saying that, Alex, my dear, because I’ve brought you a little something.’
She bent down to retrieve the little something, but before she’d moved it across his threshold, a small mewling cry told him all he needed to know.
‘Oh no,’ he said, looking down at the cardboard pet carrier Barbara had placed on his mat.
From within the box came a determined scratching sound. The container vibrated on the coconut mat, making the huge red rosette tied to its handle jiggle up and down.
‘No, Barbara,’ Alex repeated, trying not to sound like the very worst version of Scrooge as he shook his head from side to side. ‘We do not need or want a kitten in this house.’
He’d always thought her eyes were soft, the colour of bluebells in spring, but right now they’d taken on the steely glint of gunmetal as she lifted them to his.
‘This isn’t for you, Alex. It’s for Connor,’ she said pointedly.
He glanced back over his shoulder, making sure Connor was nowhere around. Thankfully, he was obviously still upstairs, playing in his bedroom. Alex opened his mouth to speak, every objection already lined up and waiting to be fired. But Barbara cleverly shot him down in flames before he could voice them.
‘Do you think I might come in after all, Alex, dear? It’s a bit cold for my old bones standing out here.’
Alex was being played. He knew that, but there was no way he was going to let Barbara win this one. His life felt as though it was in permanent disarray, and looking after Connor and himself took up all of his energy; he simply didn’t have the mental capacity to take responsibility for another living being.
Barbara slipped off her coat and handed it to him. She had him wrong-footed and she knew it. He hung her coat up, realising she’d probably been planning this little surprise for quite a while. He cast one last glance up the staircase before saying quietly, ‘Let’s go into the kitchen to talk.’
She followed him meekly enough. Oh yeah, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, he thought, bending to reposition the pet carrier in a far less prominent position beneath the coat rack.
Barbara was sitting at his kitchen table waiting for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand in objection, silencing him.
‘I am not a dotty old lady.’
Alex was about to protest that he’d never said she was, but she powered ahead before he could interrupt.
‘I am a responsible pet owner and have cared for
enough unwanted strays in my life to never foist an animal on a home where it wasn’t wanted – or needed.’
‘Well, there you are then,’ interjected Alex, as quick as a missile as she drew in a breath. ‘Thank you for thinking of us, Barbara, but I’m afraid this cat would be very much unwanted.’
‘Cats are not toys; they are not something you should casually give away like a box of chocolates or a bunch of flowers. They have feelings and need love, care and attention.’
Alex was on the point of saying his well of those particular commodities had pretty much run dry, but she was talking again, this time with a noticeable quaver in her voice.
‘But sometimes, Alex, we need things in our lives without even realising it. Connor needs this cat. He needs it to help him out of the terrible dark place he’s in right now because of losing his mummy. He’s a very confused little boy, Alex.’
Embarrassingly, Alex could feel his eyes beginning to smart with tears. He could hear the emotion in his voice as he whispered hoarsely, ‘I know that. Of course I do.’
‘I know this is going to sound a little batty, but there is something inside me, something I simply can’t explain, that is telling me that this is absolutely the right thing to do to help Connor. I trust this feeling, this voice, and I’m hoping and praying you will too.’
She’d made a compelling case, but Alex wasn’t even close to wavering.
‘I just don’t think that now is the right time for us to—’
He broke off suddenly as the kitchen door opened and Connor walked into the room, a snow-white bundle of fur cradled in his arms. Alex recognised it as the kitten Connor had bonded with when they’d visited Barbara’s house.
‘Whose kitten is this?’ Connor breathed, his voice full of something Alex hadn’t heard there for a very long time. Hope.
It wasn’t Barbara’s compelling and heartfelt speech, or even the impossible situation she’d put him in. It was the expression on Connor’s face as he lifted his eyes and looked with desperate longing at his father.
Alex’s voice sounded thick as he crossed the room and laid his hand gently on his son’s shoulder.
‘It’s yours, Connor. The kitten is yours.’
*
Forty-five minutes later, after the world’s fastest crash course in feline husbandry, Barbara was preparing to leave. In the middle of Alex’s kitchen floor was a pile of supplies that he’d helped Barbara retrieve from the boot of her neighbour’s car.
‘It was so kind of Terry to drive me over today,’ Barbara said chirpily as they walked back into the house carrying a pet bed, a litter tray and a selection of kitten food between them.
‘Are you sure he wouldn’t like to come in?’ Alex asked worriedly as he cast a backward glance at the car.
‘Oh, no. He said he’d rather listen to the sport programme on the radio.’ She dropped her voice as though revealing a rather unsavoury character flaw. ‘I don’t think Terry likes cats very much.’
Alex nearly said he quite sympathised with the man, but Barbara was looking so ridiculously pleased with how events had panned out, he didn’t want to burst her bubble. And then there was Connor, kneeling on the kitchen floor, waggling a feather-tipped toy at the cat with the kind of delight on his face that none of Alex’s expensive Christmas gifts had been able to put there.
‘Have you decided what you’re going to call her?’ Barbara asked Connor, bending down to his level and watching with approval as he played with the new arrival with infinite gentleness.
Connor looked up, turning not to Barbara but to Alex for approval. ‘I’m going to call her Lunar, because she’s white like the moon, and because I think Mummy would have liked that name.’
It was the first time Alex had heard Connor speak about Lisa in the past tense and it got to him in a way that made his voice sound oddly gruff. ‘I think she would have liked it very much. Lunar it is, then.’
Barbara left soon after, reaching up to give Alex a long hard hug as he stood beside her at the front door.
‘You’ve done a wonderful thing today, Alex. I am very proud of you.’
He hugged her back just as warmly, suddenly not wanting her to go. This had nothing to do with not knowing how to care for their newest family member. He was touched by her words and a little bit proud of himself as well. But more importantly, he felt sure that Lisa would have been proud of him too.
33
Molly
New Year’s Eve. A time for celebration, I reminded myself, as I wandered the aisles of my local supermarket, which looked as though locusts had recently descended. The shelves were as depleted as the ones in my own fridge, which was precisely why I was on a shopping excursion while the rest of the city was getting ready to party.
Twelve months ago I’d seriously thought I might never get to sing another chorus of ‘Auld Lang Syne’, so part of me was determined to celebrate that I was still here, and healthy once again. So what did it matter if I didn’t have anyone to see the New Year in with? That’s why they put Jools Holland and his Hootenanny on the telly. The old Scottish word for ‘party’ made me smile, and oddly also conjured up an image of Mac in my head. I unravelled the connection as I remembered him confessing that Scotland was his favourite place to celebrate Hogmanay. Had he travelled to Edinburgh to spend the holiday with Andi, I wondered? A shiver danced down the length of my spine, and not just because I was standing beside the chiller cabinet.
Well, I was celebrating too, I acknowledged with a determined nod of my head as I reached for a packet of party food and threw it into my basket alongside the bottle of champagne and the box of chocolates already in there.
I’d fleetingly considered asking Alex what he was doing later, but good sense had kicked in before I’d made the call. Alex’s thoughts would naturally be focused on Lisa tonight, and the last thing he’d want would be to spend the evening with someone who was only here because the woman he loved was not.
*
The tray of party food was on the worktop, waiting for the oven to heat up, and the champagne was nestled on a rack in my fridge. As I waited for my kitchen appliances to do their job, I ran a deep sudsy bath and slipped into the perfumed water, telling myself I was perfectly happy to spend the last five hours of the year alone.
There were friends who I could have called, I acknowledged as I sank into the bubbles, though I hadn’t seen much of the old crowd over the last year or so. When Tom and I separated, I was surprised to discover that our friends fell into ‘his’ and ‘hers’ categories. Like the toaster, the lava lamp neither of us liked, and the crazily expensive wine rack, our mutual friends were divvied up when we went our different ways. I was a little hurt that more had gone with him than had stayed with me. But at least I kept the lamp, I reminded myself as I slid beneath the suds to rinse my hair. And my sense of humour, I added with a smile, wiping the bubbles from my ears.
The bathwater was beginning to cool and my fingertips were turning wrinkly as I stepped from the tub, my limbs still slippery from the suds. I reached for my towelling robe, pausing before cinching it around me. A few bubbles lingered on my chest, effectively hiding my scar. I watched in the mirror as I wiped them away, revealing the line that bisected my breasts. I ran one finger thoughtfully along it, as though it was a raised relief-map charting the journey I’d been on.
New Year’s Eve is a night of resolutions, and although I was five hours early, one came to me then. From now on I would no longer allow myself to feel embarrassed about the blemishes on my body. I’d spent so much time and energy trying to hide my scar, I’d been blind to the fact that it was the mark of a miracle. It was also a reminder that a woman I’d never met had given me the greatest gift I’d ever receive.
With determination I strode into the bedroom and reached for the floral make-up bag filled with the collection of concealers I used each day to hide something I should have been displaying proudly. No more, I promised myself as I upended the bag. As the cosmetics clattered noisil
y into the bin, they sounded like the breaking links of a chain.
The euphoric smile remained on my face as I combed and dried my hair, which typically went perfectly, the way it only did when I wasn’t going anywhere.
It was only when I went to slip my mobile into my pocket that I discovered I’d missed two calls. Both were from Mac. He’s probably just phoning to wish me Happy New Year before his evening gets too messy and he forgets, I told myself. Although the idea of Mac being anything other than in full control was too big a stretch for my imagination. I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at his name on my phone’s screen as though if I looked at it long enough, I’d be able to intuit what he’d wanted.
I was still deliberating whether to call him back when the phone vibrated in my palm. Surprise made me clumsy and the mobile slipped from my fingers. Three calls in an hour? Was something wrong? Concern robbed my voice of its usual friendliness as I retrieved the phone and jabbed at the tick icon to answer his call.
‘Yes?’
‘Oh, hello, Molly. It’s Mac.’
I strained my ears for the sound of a party in the background but could hear nothing.
‘Is something wrong? I just saw that I’d missed a couple of calls from you.’
There was an unfamiliar note in his voice, and it took me a moment or two to place it. Embarrassment. It was hidden ineffectively beneath an unsure laugh.
‘No. Everything’s fine. I… I just had something I wanted to ask you…’ He paused, and the strain of waiting for him to finish his sentence felt like torture. ‘Only I’m sure it’s a totally ludicrous question. And the more I think about it, the more certain I am that your answer will be “No”.’