by Rebecca Tope
‘The line is “There is that of God in everyone.” That’s the modern version, anyhow. In the Gospel of St John, he calls it “The Word”, which is vague but nice, don’t you think? Covers a multitude of spiritual stuff. But it’s a bit exclusive, if you ask me, giving it all to just one man. That’s my main point. Christmas should be reminding us that every single person is worthy of dignity and value and respect, and all those things. Instead, we all just eat too much, and sing carols without attending to their words, and buy more plastic rubbish that nobody really wants.’ He sighed.
‘It is a mystery about babies,’ she agreed. ‘Where they come from. And where we go to at the end,’ she added, thinking of Drew and funerals and her mother. ‘My mother died, you know,’ she said, with a sense that this was central to what they were really talking about.
‘And for that discussion, we really ought to wait for Easter,’ he said gently. ‘Meanwhile, enjoy yourself, my dear. It’s what she would have wanted.’
For once, Stephanie felt that this was absolutely true, and not just something people said. ‘Thank you, and have a happy Christmas as well. Oh – and do you play chess?’
He laughed. ‘Like most people, I know the moves, but can’t claim any great skill at it. Why?’
‘Well, I got a lovely chess set for Christmas from Dad and Thea. Now I need somebody to play with.’
‘I’d be more than happy to give it a try. In fact, it would please me inordinately to refresh my mind in that way. I shall be here until next weekend. Perhaps we ought to make a date now?’
‘Well, we’ve got visitors until Friday morning. What about Friday afternoon?’
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘And now you should get home. Your people might be worrying about you.’
With a bounce in her step, humming ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ to herself, she returned home, and walked in through the unlocked front door.
It was suddenly half past six and Timmy was drooping. ‘It was rather a short night,’ said Thea. ‘Although they both slept like logs – didn’t you have to wake them up for their stockings?’
‘I did,’ said Drew. ‘But we’ll have to keep them going for a while longer. They’ll wake at some unearthly hour tomorrow otherwise.’
‘Which wouldn’t really matter, would it?’ Thea had never calculated hours of sleep, even when her own child had been small. There had been no regular nap times, and no hesitation about taking little Jessica out in an evening, if that suited her own wishes. Drew’s anxieties about bedtimes and adequate sleep and imaginary social rules only irritated her. ‘People sleep when they’re tired,’ she insisted. ‘It’s not something to obsess about.’
‘I’m not a bit tired,’ said Stephanie.
In any event, Timmy’s exhaustion overrode all discussion and he sank into a deep sleep on the sitting-room sofa. ‘We’ll wake him up in an hour or so, give him some food and put him to bed properly,’ said Thea, which seemed to satisfy Drew.
It was time for a summing-up of the day. Stephanie began by thanking the adults for her presents – again. ‘I love my chess set, and Mr Shipley’s going to play it with me on Friday,’ she said. ‘He says he’ll be more than happy to.’
‘Here or there?’ asked Thea. ‘I mean – his place or yours?’ She giggled.
‘I don’t know.’ Stephanie was aware that both Jessica and Drew were entirely unamused at the line that made Thea laugh. ‘It’d be quieter in his house, I suppose.’
‘We’ve all had a lovely day,’ Drew asserted, a few minutes later. ‘It’s been an excellent team effort, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Jessica. ‘Although I suspect I didn’t pull my weight as much as I should have.’
‘You were excused on account of being the honoured guest,’ said Drew.
‘You did quite a lot of washing-up,’ Thea acknowledged. ‘And entertained the children.’
There was relative silence for a minute or two as everybody looked back over the day. ‘We forgot to take photos,’ said Jessica, but nobody seemed to find that of much importance.
‘There’s still quite a lot of food to be eaten,’ Thea remarked lazily. ‘Anybody feel like some cold Christmas pudding? Or I could put it in the microwave for a minute. There’s brandy butter and cream to go with it.’
‘No thanks,’ said Stephanie.
‘We can have it tomorrow,’ said Drew.
‘I could manage a small amount now,’ said Jessica, who had always been fond of her food, puddings in particular.
‘We’re running out of logs,’ said Thea. ‘And the fire’s going to go out in a minute. It’s down to a few ashes.’ There was only one log left in the basket, so Drew had to go out to the shed at the back and collect some more.
‘It really has been a fabulous day,’ sighed Jessica. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Stephanie made confirmatory noises.
‘Well, it’s only once a year, I suppose,’ said Thea, evidently unaware of the import of her words. Stephanie was glad her father wasn’t there to hear them. It often seemed as if she, Stephanie, grasped the ironic undercurrents of what her stepmother said, while Drew took them all too seriously.
‘You don’t mean it,’ said Jessica, switching to anger in a heartbeat. ‘You can’t possibly be as horrible as you make yourself sound.’
Thea was genuinely surprised. ‘What did I say? How am I different from about ninety-five per cent of women in the country? I might be a bit more honest, that’s all.’
Drew came in with a basket full of logs and by mutual consent, the conversation was suspended. But the air was still full of it. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Nothing,’ Stephanie quickly told him. ‘Can we watch a film now?’
‘If we must,’ said Drew. ‘Although I was hoping to just do nothing for a bit.’
Stephanie knew that there was no such thing as doing nothing. You talked, or read, or did a bit of tidying. Even if you just sat still, you were thinking. She also knew that neither of her parents – meaning Drew and Thea – were capable of inactivity for more than about a minute. Nobody argued with him, but the atmosphere was restive.
‘Did you ever phone your mother?’ Drew asked Thea a moment later. ‘Weren’t you supposed to do it this morning?’
‘I did, at about half past eleven. She was in the middle of doing something crucial in Jocelyn’s kitchen, so it only lasted half a minute. Maybe you ought to phone yours.’
‘I don’t think so.’ He frowned. ‘That would be weird after all the years of not. What would I say? She didn’t give us any presents. She never used to like Christmas much.’
‘Another one of the ninety-five per cent,’ muttered Jessica.
‘What?’
‘Oh – Thea says there are very few women who do like it. Too much work, I suppose. All that cooking.’
‘Either that, or they’re left all on their own to make the best of a pork pie and a silly hat,’ said Thea.
Stephanie began to discern a theme, which sent her thoughts flying to Mrs Frowse, who had gone off to be by herself on Christmas Day, in spite of having a perfectly good husband, son and dog willing to spend it with her. The world seemed to be full of unhappy women, wishing the whole thing would hurry up and be over for another year, whether they had families or not. It made her wonder how it would be for her when she grew up. ‘I think I’ll go to a hotel in Spain for Christmas when I’m grown up,’ she announced. ‘Or Australia.’
‘Can I come?’ said Timmy, who had woken up without anybody noticing.
‘You won’t want to. You’ll have a wife who’ll do all the cooking for you, and five children.’ It was Jessica who gave him this unsolicited prediction, like a fortune-teller. ‘And they’ll all want you right there, so they can tell you how much they love you.’
‘Pooh,’ said the little boy, going rather pink at this appealing picture.
‘That’s right,’ said Drew, a trifle too heartily.
‘It was lovely, though,’ Stephanie insisted. ‘All the pres
ents and turkey and crackers.’ She leant over the cardboard box at her side, full of her new things, and then looked up with a wide smile. ‘I can’t wait for Tim to get his fish tank.’ Drew and Thea had given him a promissory note for a tank for tropical fish, with all the trimmings. ‘We couldn’t get it in advance,’ Drew had explained. ‘There’d be nowhere to hide it all. And this way you can choose exactly what you want.’
‘First thing on Wednesday, we’ll go and get it,’ he said now.
‘I don’t think they open again until the New Year,’ Thea cautioned. ‘And don’t forget we’ve got Damien coming.’
Somehow she made it sound like something to dread, every time she mentioned the upcoming visit. For herself, Stephanie was very much looking forward to meeting little Kim and getting to know a new set of step-relations. It would prolong the Christmassy atmosphere, or so she hoped. ‘Next week is fine,’ said Timmy with a very grown-up display of patience. ‘I’ve got loads of other things to be going on with.’ The prospect of the new fish was definitely exciting, and Stephanie could see that her brother was learning that anticipation was well over half the enjoyment when it came to any kind of pleasure.
‘Good boy,’ said Thea.
‘I don’t know how you got so lucky with these kids,’ said Jessica.
‘Mostly good management, actually,’ Thea corrected her. She was never one to let credit for anything slip away into other hands. ‘Although I agree it was lucky I met Drew when I did. Just down the road from here,’ she added reminiscently.
Stephanie took that to mean that her stepmother had no regrets, which was definitely reassuring.
But the day had not quite ended, and the harmony couldn’t last. Afterwards Stephanie could not decide whose fault it had been, or how it might have been averted. Jessica had been harbouring an annoyance with her mother that seemed uncalled for. Thea was, as usual, chafing against the responsibilities of the coming days, and both women knew there was still a lot they had not told Drew about events over at the Crossfield Estate. That, Stephanie suspected, was the real issue. All three female members of the family had become involved in a sudden death that was very likely to develop into a murder enquiry within a few days. Drew never approved of Thea’s activities in that direction, and he never liked it when Gladwin made contact. When it happened again, he was not going to be pleased. And knowing that put them all on edge.
It began innocently. Thea had simply switched on her phone and glanced at the screen. ‘Expecting a call?’ asked Drew, with no hint of irritation.
‘I thought my mother might get back to me. She hasn’t thanked me for the jumper I gave her.’
‘Bad example,’ he smiled. ‘But tomorrow’s soon enough, surely?’
‘She’s really checking to see if there’s anything from Gladwin,’ said Jessica – which was, Stephanie concluded, definitely a piece of mischief, even if it didn’t sound like it at the time.
‘Oh?’ said Drew, still perfectly relaxed.
‘Well, not really,’ Thea defended herself. ‘At least – I have been wondering whether anything else has happened.’
‘Else?’ He was now more alert.
‘We’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?’
It was too late. Stephanie closed her eyes, already grieving for the wrecked atmosphere. All three of the adults seemed to be impelled to fight, for absolutely no reason. There must be some horrible aspect of human nature that came to the surface whether you chose it or not. She thought of Mr Shipley saying there was that of God in everyone. There was also obviously that of the devil as well.
‘What is there to tell?’ he persisted.
‘There’s a police investigation into the death of Rufus Blackwood,’ said Thea, with a sheepish expression.
Drew gave her an exasperated look. ‘And that’s the reason you turned the phone on? Aren’t we enough for you?’ The question went deep and true. It was a most searching and accurate question that needed an answer which treated it seriously.
‘That’s not it, exactly,’ Thea began. Then she squared up to the three faces before her. ‘Well, if you put it in those words, I suppose the truth is that you’re not, no. I love you all and I love all this Christmas happiness and I want everything to be warm and safe and contented. But there has to be more to life. I can’t help it.’
‘That’s all fine. I’ve no problem with that. But on Christmas Day? That’s just not reasonable.’
‘He’s right, Ma.’ Jessica’s voice contained real anger. ‘If you felt like that, why did you ever marry him?’
Stephanie put her hands over her ears and shrieked. ‘No! Stop it!’ It was her worst fear, that something like this would erupt and spoil the day. The best of it was already over, of course. Once the presents were opened, there was no more magical anticipation. But they could at least enjoy the aftermath in peace – couldn’t they?
‘Don’t shout,’ said Timmy in a very small voice. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. Nothing.’ Thea got up and went to hug him. ‘It’s all my fault for looking at my phone. Just shows, doesn’t it, what beastly things they are. I’m very sorry, Tim. Don’t get upset, either of you. It’s time for a drink and a bit of cake or something. Then you two can go to bed and tomorrow we’ll tidy up and eat cold turkey. Is everybody happy now?’
Jessica forced a smile that convinced nobody, and got up from her place on the floor. ‘I’ll go and make us some coffee,’ she said.
Stephanie slowly expelled the air she’d been holding onto, still hearing echoes of her own outburst. It had certainly had a good effect. The real shock had been Jessica’s words, taking the whole conversation into unbearably deep waters. Why did you ever marry him? It carried ghastly implications that Thea and Dad might get unmarried, and what would become of them all then?
Before they drifted off to sleep, Stephanie suddenly asked Timmy, ‘So what’s she really like? Our new grandmother, I mean.’
He turned towards her in the faint light coming from the landing, ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
Timmy lay flat on his back, and stared at the ceiling, happy to be invited to share his impressions. ‘Well, she’s a bit like a person from a Roald Dahl book. Knobbly fingers and bushy eyebrows. But her nose is just like Dad’s, and she does that thing with her knees the same as him.’
Stephanie knew exactly what he meant. All her life she had watched her father gently strumming an inaudible tune on first one knee then the other, whenever he was sitting down. It was maddening for anybody in the same room and everybody tried to stop him from doing it. Only Thea seemed to find it appealing. ‘At least it’s better than humming,’ she often said.
‘Really?’ Stephanie was highly intrigued by this proof of family likeness. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘She was quite scared of seeing us, you know,’ Timmy elaborated. ‘And sad about Grandad or Grandpa, or whatever we’re meant to call him.’
‘It probably doesn’t matter, now he’s dead,’ said Stephanie. ‘Go on.’
‘She hardly looked at Dad at all when we first got there. Picked me up and squeezed me as if I was about three, and said I looked just like her husband.’ He grimaced at the memory. ‘That was horrible.’
Stephanie examined her brother’s face with interest. His colouring was as fair as hers, except for his eyes, which were light brown, while hers were blue. The shape of his head was different, too – longer and narrower. She remembered how people had commented on how unlike his mother he was, when he was little. ‘Oh,’ she said.
Timmy hadn’t finished. ‘And then she let the dog attack me. The house was cold – all the windows were open. I think she was trying to get rid of the smell.’
‘Smell?’
‘I think there was a problem with drains or something,’ he said vaguely. ‘And there’s an awful old cat that pees everywhere.’
None of this fitted at all with the picture Stephanie had gained so far. ‘She sounds awful. Is she really old then?�
��
Timmy shrugged. ‘Quite. But she can move about all right, and isn’t deaf or anything. And she’s strong – the dog can’t pull her over and she throws great hunks of wood about. She might be a bit mad. But she laughed when Dad went round shutting the windows and said she should light the fire.’
‘That’s when he had to cut the logs, is it?’
‘No, he did that after lunch. She made us cottage pie with carrots and cabbage. It wasn’t too bad, actually.’
‘What did they talk about?’
‘Funerals mostly. Then they sent me upstairs to look at Dad’s old books, and I suppose they talked grown-up stuff while I was out of the room. Dad looked funny when I came down again. He didn’t say anything much, and she went to do things in the kitchen. She’s got a big sitting room, much bigger than the one here. She said they knocked a wall down, and made two rooms into one.’ He paused as if speculating about the possibilities. ‘Couldn’t do that here,’ he concluded.
‘What’s so great about a big room?’
‘Nothing, really,’ he agreed.
‘I still don’t get why they never saw each other for all this long time. I mean – didn’t they like each other?’
Timmy had no answer to this, to Stephanie’s frustration. She knew if she had gone instead, she’d have discovered much more about the family history. ‘Oh, well,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’ll see for myself when she comes here.’
‘She won’t like Thea,’ said Tim suddenly. ‘That’s for sure.’
‘Why not?’
‘They’re too much like each other.’ He seemed surprised at his own words. ‘I can’t explain exactly, but they are.’
Stephanie gave a fleeting acknowledgement of the two senses of the word ‘like’. Did you like things that were like each other? Did being alike imply a liking? Not according to her little brother. ‘That should be interesting, then,’ was all she said. ‘But I expect you’ve got it wrong. You’re only nine, after all.’