“What are you doing for Christmas?” Carrie asked Tom suddenly. “I really should have thought to ask while we’ve been at work, but it never seems to have come up.”
“I was just going to have a turkey ready meal and watch Bond.”
“Stuff that!” Simon actually snorted. “Come and have a proper turkey dinner.”
“And watch Bond, of course,” Carrie added. “It’s not really Christmas without Bond.”
“You’re not a Queen’s Speech nut are you?” Simon as ed in mock horror.
“He hasn’t said he’ll come yet,” Belle muttered, resting a hand on Simon’s arm and he smiled tenderly at her.
“Fine, I’ll come for Christmas dinner.” The small gesture of affection between Belle and Simon had clearly made up his mind for him.
“Is Belle going to have the baby Jesus?”
“Is she a virgin?”
“Do we have to give him presents?”
“Does it have to be gold, or can we give him a blanket? I have a really nice blanket I don’t use anymore.”
“You two sure ask a lot of questions,” Carrie said as she squeezed between the boys in her attempt to get ready for work. “Can’t you ask your dad?”
“Ooh, you ask questions too!” Belle was standing in the living room doorway and reaching out to the boys. “Mark, Clay, go and bounce on your dad for a bit. Your mum needs to go to work.”
“Thanks,” Carrie said with a laugh as the boys scampered off to jump on an unsuspecting Simon, who was still in bed. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Tom won’t mind if I’m a couple of minutes late.” Carrie sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for Belle to join her. “Please, it’s kind of important.”
Belle looked unsure, but sat down and folded her hands in her lap, looking not unlike a naughty child outside the headmaster’s office.
“I know about you and Simon.”
“I…” Belle looked mortified. “Hell, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let it happen, but he’s just so sweet and kind, and I’ve been so lonely since I’ve been pregnant. I know it’s not justification for what we’ve done, but I really like him, and he’s helped me so much to get my life back on track. If you want me to leave, I can be gone by the weekend, I just need to—”
“Wait, what?” Carrie held up her hand to quiet Belle’s rambling. “I’m not kicking you out, I just wanted you to know that I know about you two. God knows things haven’t been right between me and Simon for a while. It’s good to know one of us is having some fun at least. I wish it were me, but…” She realised what she had been saying and trailed off. “Seriously, I just though you should know.”
“You’ve taken this better than I thought you would.”
“It was pretty obvious from the start, Belle. Someone as pretty as you, he’d have been mad not to give it a go.” Carrie smiled vacantly as she reminisced about the early years of her marriage, before everything went downhill. “And I guess you see seething in him, something I stopped seeing a while ago.”
“You know what the old saying,” Belle giggled. “Once you go bl—”
“Don’t even go there.” Carrie clasped her hand over Belle’s mouth. “You can’t say things like that when little ears are listening.”
“Sorry,” Belle mumbled from behind Carrie’s hand.
“But I guess it’s understandable for someone your age to be tempted by that particular fallacy.” Carrie sighed and pulled her hand back. “Just do me a favour and try not to do anything around the boys. It’s just going to confuse them.”
“Absolutely. Your house, your rules.” Belle nodded. “Just between us; are you going to make a move on Tom?”
It was Carrie’s turn to be mortified. She had tried so hard not to let her affection show. “Have I really been that obvious?”
“To me maybe. Not so much to Simon. Or Tom either, it would seem. He’s obviously mad about you, but he doesn’t seem to think you’re interested.”
“Could be all the times I’ve told him I’m not interested.”
“Not interested in what, sweetie?” Simon walked into the kitchen in just his boxers, his body looking more toned than it had in ages, and making Carrie turn to Belle with a raised eyebrow. He leaned down and kissed Carrie on the forehead before giving Belle a cheeky wink he clearly thought Carrie couldn’t see.
“Bond. Not interested in watching endless Bond movies right through Christmas. Us girls need something more girl to watch.” Carrie ducked out of the kitchen as quickly as she could, mouthing back to Belle that they would talk again later. “Got to go. Don’t want to be late for work on Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah, you don’t want Tom to have to punish you,” Belle called after her. “I daresay you’re not too old for a spanking.”
Carrie left the house with a weight off her shoulders, wishing that she could see the look on Simon’s face after Belle’s last comment.
Christmas dinner was a manic affair, with the boys wanting to sit next to everybody, and Belle leaving the table every ten minutes for yet another phone call. Carrie joined Belle in sobriety, Tom had a couple of glasses of wine, while Simon had managed to do a full backslide, and was almost falling off his chair by the time Carrie brought out the Christmas pudding.
“Are you sure you’re OK?” Carrie asked Belle for a seventh time. Every time Belle got up to answer her phone, she looked more exhausted, and was cradling her belly every time she sat back down. “Do you want me to call you a doctor?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Belle smiled weakly, her face drained and pallid. “Is it alright if I go and have a lie down? I just need to get my head down for a bit.”
“Sure, whatever you like.” Carrie nodded and helped Belle to her feet. “Give me a shout if you need anything, OK?”
“Thanks.” Belle swayed out of the room and hauled herself unsteadily up the stairs.
“She doesn’t look well.” Tom cleared the plates from the table and laid out bowls for the pudding. “I know she said she doesn’t want it, but you probably should call a doctor. Just to check her, if nothing else.”
“You’re probably right,” Carrie agreed. “Serve up the pudding for the boys and I’ll be back in a minute.” She walked out of the dining room and pieced up the receiver of the house phone. There was no dial tone, so she checked the connection to the wall. Everything seemed to be fine, so she surmised that it must have been knocked out because of the weather. She called the doctor’s surgery and waited for the out-of-hours service to pick up the call.
“Merry Christmas, how can I help?”
“Oh, uh, Merry Christmas. My lodger’s pregnant and she isn’t looking too well. She says it’s nothing, but I’m not convinced. Would it be possible to have a doctor come and check on her, just to put our minds at rest?”
“How many weeks is she?”
“About thirty-eight. I think. I’m not sure.”
“And has she had any complications before now?”
“She was a drunk, I don’t know if that’s had any effect on her pregnancy before now though, and I certainly haven’t seen her drinking since she’s lived here.”
“And is there anything in particular that makes you think she or her baby might be at risk?”
“She’s deathly pale and looks like she could pass out at any minute. She’s gone to have a nap, and she’ll probably hate me for calling, but I wanted to make sure she’s alright.”
“Can I have the patient’s name and address, please?”
“It’s Belle Christiansen, and we’re at 12 Hammond Avenue.”
“OK, well it might be a while before the doctor can get to you, the weather being the way it is, but someone will definitely be with you. Keep her hydrated, don’t let her do anything too strenuous, and if you have any problems, you can call back.”
“Thanks. Merry Christmas. Bye.” Carrie was relieved to have got through the conversation wi
thout sounding too much like a gibbering idiot, and walked back through into the dining room where Tom was having a Christmas pudding food fight with Mark and Clay. “I don’t know. I leave you for five minutes, and this is what you let me come back to? Boys, go upstairs and get cleaned up, then you can come back down and watch—”
“Carrie!” Belle’s shout from upstairs cut through Carrie’s sentence, and she raced upstairs to find Belle on the floor in a pool of watery blood. “Carrie, what’s happening?”
“I’m not sure. I think your waters have broken. Let’s get you back up on the bed.”
“There’s blood all over your floor. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just make sure you’re OK before we start worrying about the carpet.”
Belle grabbed Carrie’s arm and stared into her eyes, her face filled with guilt. “No, I mean about Simon. I lied to you, and now I’m being punished.”
“You’re in labour.” Carrie could feel the contractions as she rested her hand on Belle’s belly. “A Christmas baby, that’s nice, isn’t it?”
“It’s Simon’s baby.” Belle had barely got the words out before screaming in pain. “It’s his baby, Carrie. I should have told you from the start, but I haven’t got anywhere else to go. I was being—” Another anguished scream cut her off mid-sentence. “I was being selfish, and I thought I could get away with not telling you. He doesn’t know it’s his. He sill thinks it’s Jason’s.”
“You think I don’t know all that?” Carrie cradled the sobbing girl’s head and held her hand through the contractions. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“I don’t think you are. I’m the idiot. I’ve lied to everyone, and I deserve this—” Belle’s screams were harder to stomach every time, and Tom peered round the door to see what was going on. “Tom, I’m so sorry for lying to you. I feel like I’ve never told you anything true. Except that Carrie fancies you, that was true. And that you have a nice arse for a chubby guy.”
“Well, thanks for that.” Tom raised his eyebrow as he turned to Carrie. “Is she OK?”
“She’s in labour, and the pain’s making her emotional. Can you keep an eye out for the doctor, and phone for an ambulance?”
“Can do. What are you going to do?”
“Keep her talking and deal with things as they happen. I take it Simon’s passed out.”
Tom nodded and gazed at Belle apologetically as she cried into Carrie’s shoulder. “I’ll go and call for that ambulance.”
Carrie sat with Belle for over half an hour, consoling her and listening to her emotional ramblings, until the paramedics arrived at almost the same time as the doctor, just as the baby decided to put in an appearance. Carrie stumbled downstairs, dumbstruck, and crashed down onto the couch beside Tom. He wrapped his arm around her, and she curled into him, thankful for a touch of comfort after the evening she had just had.
“The boys are in bed,” Tom muttered into her hair, the sherry on his breath sickly and sweet, but pleasantly warm. “I told them you’d be up in a bit to say goodnight.”
“It’s Simon’s baby,” Carrie said blankly. “She finally admitted it. This is such a crappy Christmas.”
Tom pulled his arm tighter around her shoulder as she fought to keep back the tears. Neither of them said anything, they just waited in silence until a the doctor came down to speak to them.
“Mother and baby are both fine. We’re happy for them both to stay here if you can get them to the surgery when it opens on the twenty-eighth. There’s really no point in dragging them out into the storm for no reason. Is he—” The doctor pointed in the direction of Simon, who was slumped over the table.
“He’s the father,” Carrie explained. “And he’s just totally wasted. He’ll have a thick head in the morning, but nothing more.”
“Yes, well you should try to convince him not to drink so much in the future.” The doctor showed himself out, and the paramedics weren’t far behind him.
After a few more minutes of silence, Tom laughed out loud and Carrie turned to him in confusion. “What’s tickling you?”
“I just had the most hilarious thought.” Tom paused for effect. “He’s going to wake up to a thick head and a baby!”
Carrie knocked on the door of Belle’s room and crept inside. Belle was sitting upright on the bed, her new baby asleep in her arms.
“How’s everything going?” Carrie asked, sitting softly on the edge of the bed and gazing down at the newborn.
“It’s amazing.” Belle’s eyes again filled with tears, but this time they were tears of joy. “I truly am sorry for lying to you, but I don’t think I could have done this without you. Would you mind if I name her after you?”
“Absolutely not!” Carrie chuckled as she rested her hand on Belle’s shoulder. “OK, maybe as a middle name.”
“Thanks.” Belle looked down at the baby in her arms and sighed tiredly. “I’m sorry for ruining dinner.”
“It’s fine. It was almost over anyway.” Carrie got back to her feet and headed quietly for the door. “I’ve got to go and say goodnight to the boys, but I’ll be back in a bit with a moses basket for the little one.”
Carrie stopped just outside the door and wiped a silent tear from her eye. It had been a more emotional day than any Christmas she had had before, but when all things were considered, perhaps it wasn’t such a crappy Christmas after all.
About The Author
Rebecca Hillary was born in North Yorkshire, England in 1982. She has been writing since before she can remember and loves to read every genre of fiction.
She lives in South Yorkshire with her five children and their father, and is a right-brained introverted optimist.
Shunning the typical writer's fare of endless coffee, Rebecca prefers to survive on tea. She is, after all, English.
Find out more at rebeccahillary.co.uk
Other Books by Rebecca Hillary
Coffee and Ink
Ashes and Lavender (Fairytalienation #1)
No Tears
Moon Rise
Crappy Christmas Page 2