by Cathy Lake
‘So you might stay?’
‘Perhaps. I do have the job at the stables lined up and there’s a chance it could turn into something more than maternity cover. The impression I’ve got from Verity is that she needs as much help as she can get. What about you?’
Kyle ran a hand through his hair, but it bounced straight back into the crazy bedhead style.
‘I’d like to stay around until the start of the next academic year. I’m enjoying being with you and Nanna . . . and Goliath.’
‘And someone else?’ Clare raised her eyebrows.
‘Sorry?’ Kyle turned back to the fridge and feigned interest in its contents.
‘A certain veterinary nurse from Norway?’
Kyle snorted with laughter, so Clare went to him and hugged him. ‘Just be careful, my baby boy.’
He turned in her embrace and grinned at her. ‘Don’t worry about me, Mum. I’ll be just fine.’
‘But you’ve been hurt before and I don’t want to see that happen again.’
‘I don’t want to get hurt, but I also think that life’s too short to be afraid to love. However many times I get hurt, I still want to be able to love freely, without restriction, without worrying about what could go wrong. Don’t you think that’s a good way to live?’
Clare nodded. He was right. Life and love were scary things, but to be able to love without fear would be liberating.
‘Just don’t rush things.’
‘I promise I won’t.’ He turned back to the fridge. ‘You hungry? Because I could eat an elephant!’
‘I ate earlier, thanks, and I’m off shopping with Jenny.’
‘Ah yes, that’s right. If you see something for Nanna, would you pick it up for me and I’ll give you the money later.’
‘OK.’ Clare smiled, knowing that this happened most years and that Kyle would offer the money and she’d probably decline it or tell him to use it to get something he needed. It was how they’d gone about getting Jason’s gifts most years. ‘Will do. See you later.’
Clare checked on Goliath, who was chewing away on his kebab, content to stay where he was for the time being.
‘And don’t worry, Mum, I’ll walk the dog today.’
‘Thank you.’
She closed the kitchen door behind her, then went into the hallway. The post had arrived and lay on the mat remarkably unscathed, so she picked it up and placed it on the hall table. There were always ways to work things out, whether that was saving the postman from your mum’s giant dog, advising your son about how to behave in affairs of the heart, or how to resolve long-standing issues with your mum. Clare knew that she would have to speak to Elaine soon, but she wasn’t sure when that would be or how she would initiate such a discussion. She certainly hadn’t wanted to do it before the show and risk ruining it for everyone, so it would have to come later, perhaps at the weekend when things had quietened down and they had a week until Christmas.
She would find a way. But now she was off for a day of retail therapy with her oldest friend and she was looking forward to it enormously.
A car horn beeped outside, so she grabbed her bag and let herself out of the cottage, then practically skipped down the drive. Kyle was right, life was for living and Clare felt as if she was finally living hers.
‘That is dusty!’ Sneezing, Sam put the cardboard box down on the landing and wiped his hands on his jeans. He turned as if to smile at Alyssa, expecting her to be waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a big grin on her face, but she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t. He was home alone – as he usually was these days.
He climbed the ladder again and took hold of another box and carried that one down. When he had four large boxes, he went back up to turn the attic light off, but something caught his eye. It was a small suitcase that had belonged to his father. After his father had passed away, Sam had sorted through his belongings and given what he could to charity, then binned the rubbish, but he had kept a few things that he thought Alyssa would want one day. This suitcase was one of them; it didn’t contain clothes but photographs, letters, postcards and other mementoes of his father’s life. He reached for the suitcase, pulled the cord to turn the light off, then descended the ladder.
Ten minutes later, in the lounge, he looked at the boxes, each one clearly labelled in Alyssa’s looped handwriting: tree decorations, ornaments, lights, outdoor. Every year, they went to town with Christmas, decorating every surface, every window, every branch of the tree. This year, as he would be alone, he’d keep it minimal. There didn’t seem much point in decorating the whole cottage just for himself, although he was wondering if he’d get to spend some time with Clare over the holidays.
He had placed the small suitcase on the coffee table and now looked at it. He hadn’t opened it in years, not since before they’d moved to Little Bramble, but he knew what was inside and was overcome by an urge to look again. At least once more. Then he would give it to Alyssa. They were her memories too.
In the kitchen he made a coffee. With it being the last Friday before Christmas, they’d closed the surgery except for emergencies, so the staff could go Christmas shopping. Sam and Miranda were on call, but Miranda had seemed to want to go shopping as well, so Sam had told her that he’d take any calls that came.
He took his coffee into the lounge and smiled at Scout. She’d taken a seat on the sofa and now wagged her tail, thumping the cushion rhythmically.
‘It’s OK, girl, you can sit there.’
He put his mug on the coffee table, then opened the suitcase and was hit by the smell of old papers, mint and coffee. All scents he associated with his father. Strange how time couldn’t erode someone’s individual scent when it was ingrained in papers, the satin lining of a suitcase and on things they had held over and over again.
The photographs were in a large envelope, so he got that out and emptied it onto his lap. Memories that he often put away, whether consciously or not, were evoked as he pored over the photographs, some black and white, some a fuzzy faded colour from old film that his parents had used in the seventies and eighties, some brighter as the years passed and his dad got a better camera, higher-quality film. He gazed at his mum and dad on their wedding day, understated clothing for a registry office ceremony, their witnesses strangers off the street. But their smiles, the glints in their eyes showed their utter joy at having found each other.
Then there was a photograph of his mum wearing a smock top and baggy jeans, cupping her belly proudly. The edges of this photo were well-thumbed, as if someone had looked at it many times. Next were some of Sam as a small boy, either with his mum or dad, the other presumably behind the camera. He smiled as he looked at his knobbly knees in shorts, his full Afro – much longer than he kept it now because his mum had loved it that way and it was the fashion at the time. Then there were some photos from after Alyssa arrived; as he flicked through them, it hit him exactly how much she’d missed out on in never knowing their mum. There he was, holding her next to a small white Christmas tree when he was around fourteen, Alyssa a toddler. She was reaching for something on the tree. Goosebumps rose on his arms and a lump stung his throat. His sweet sister had relied on him and their dad from the moment she was born, had never known their mum’s loving hugs, her throaty laughter that could fill a room or her adoring gaze filled with love and pride. Alyssa deserved to be happy, to build a family of her own, and Sam wanted her to have that. She would make a wonderful mum; she had all their mother’s best qualities as well as a whole load of her own love to give. From now on, Sam determined that he would support his sister in her decisions – no matter what.
He had been on a steep learning curve recently and it hadn’t been easy, but he felt sure that from here on, things would improve.
‘Ooh! I like this one. What do you think?’
Clare looked over at Jenny and smiled. ‘Definitely.’
The bright lights of the department store gave everything a shiny appearance, glinting off mirrors and Chris
tmas decorations that swayed in the warm air. They had both removed their coats as soon as they’d come inside, knowing that with Jenny’s pregnancy hormones and Clare’s perimenopausal ones, they’d soon get too hot.
‘It’s funny, right?’ Jenny giggled as she held the T-shirt up against her, smoothing it down over her bump. ‘Maternity wear has progressed so much since I had the girls.’
The white T-shirt had the slogan In the Christmas Pudding Club across the chest and a cartoon image of a huge Christmas pudding that would sit over the baby bump. It was very cute.
‘I like this one too.’ Clare held up a black nightdress with a picture of a red hat complete with fluffy white pompom. The slogan on this one said Santa Baby.
‘I like that one too.’ Jenny took the nightdress from Clare. ‘Which one shall I get?’
‘Both.’
‘Really? I’m supposed to be shopping for gifts for my family.’
Clare shrugged. ‘You’re going to need some bigger clothes, so why not get them now?’
‘I guess you’re right.’ Jenny chewed at her bottom lip. ‘I’m getting a bit nervous now.’
Clare placed a hand on Jenny’s arm. ‘Why, sweetheart?’
‘I’m going to be huge, aren’t I?’
‘You’ll get bigger, yes, but you’ve done it before.’
‘I know, but I was so much younger then and everything just kind of pinged back into shape. This time I could be left with a jelly belly.’
‘Jen, you have nothing to worry about. You will always be beautiful.’
‘I feel just dreadful worrying about stupid stuff like that when I should be grateful I’m pregnant again and the only thing I should be worried about is whether my babies will be healthy.’
‘Stop being so hard on yourself. It’s perfectly normal to have a million worries as a pregnant mum. Just take some deep breaths and focus on looking after yourself.’
Jenny nodded. ‘You’re right. Thank you. Oh God, Clare . . .’
Unease filled Clare as she watched Jenny’s eyes fill with tears. ‘What’s wrong? Are you feeling rough again?’
Jenny shook her head and waved a hand in front of her face, then blinked rapidly. ‘No . . . I’m OK. It’s just . . . just I’m so glad you’re here.’
As fat tears rolled down Jenny’s cheeks, Clare enveloped her in a hug and rocked her gently. ‘It’s OK, Jen. I know exactly what you mean. I’m so glad I’m back too.’
Jenny looked up, her eyes red, her face wet. ‘These bloody pregnancy hormones are playing havoc with me. And to think I thought it was the menopause!’ She started wailing then, so Clare held her tight as other shoppers glanced at them curiously, shuffling warily past, laden with bags, sweating in their hats and winter coats.
‘Why don’t we go and get something to eat? Your blood sugar is probably a bit low and we need to keep your strength up.’ Clare kissed Jenny’s forehead and she nodded.
‘OK. Th-thanks.’
‘I bet you’d like a gingerbread hot chocolate, wouldn’t you?’
‘That sounds amazing.’
‘Come on, then. Let’s pay for these and then find a café.’
Clare led her friend towards the counter, swallowing hard against her own welling emotions. She was incredibly glad that she’d come back to the village and rekindled her friendship with Jenny. Theirs was a bond that time, distance and a temporary failure to see eye to eye had failed to destroy. And now she was certain that it would last a lifetime.
Sam unfolded the branches of the artificial tree he’d purchased the previous day at the supermarket, then tilted his head. He wasn’t sure the branches were even and wished he had someone to ask for a second opinion. He usually took Alyssa to a Christmas tree farm to buy a real tree, but this year he’d decided to get one that would last a few years and, if he was being completely honest, because he couldn’t face going to the tree farm alone.
The morning had passed quickly as he’d looked through the photographs, then moved on to the letters from his mum to his dad and back again. They were love notes filled with tenderness and adoration, written even though his parents were married by then, but they perfectly captured the bond his parents had enjoyed. It was a love that had united them and that they had aimed to share with their children. Sam had been able to savour the warmth of loving parents, whereas Alyssa had not so he would tell her to read the letters when she had some time. After their father had died, she’d been too upset and distracted to read them, then the years had passed and the suitcase had been tucked away in a cupboard. When they’d moved to Little Bramble, the suitcase had gone into the attic, along with lots of other things, to make as much space as possible for the building work that needed to be carried out. But now Alyssa should read the letters, look at the photographs, and maybe one day she could share them with her child too.
The tree looked about as good as it ever would, so he opened the box of tree decorations and looked through them. This was usually Alyssa’s job; she would unwrap each one, then choose the spot to hang it on the tree while Michael Bublé and Frank Sinatra crooned from a laptop and Sam and Alyssa sipped eggnog or mulled wine. This year, however, it was very different, and Sam was struggling to summon his usual enthusiasm.
Scout came in, wagging her tail, then dropped into a little bow. Sam looked from the decorations to the dog, then shrugged.
‘Let’s go for a walk, shall we? This can wait.’
A brisk walk in the fresh air would help to clear his head and hopefully he’d come back feeling ready to decorate his Christmas tree for one.
‘That was a wonderful day. Thank you so much for coming.’
Clare smiled at Jenny. ‘I had a fabulous time too.’
After they had gone for hot chocolates, they’d hit the shops again before stopping for lunch, and after another two hours of shopping, they were both exhausted.
‘Let me carry some of my bags.’ Jenny held out her hand, but Clare shook her head.
‘You have two and that’s plenty. I’m fine with all of these.’
‘I’d forgotten about your superhero strength.’ Jenny laughed.
‘Not so strong these days, but I’m certainly not letting you carry too much in your condition.’
They made their way through the shopping centre’s ground floor, the strains of carols floating through the air from the speakers outside shops. Everywhere they looked, there were people with bags, pushchairs, rosy cheeks and happy smiles. It was very festive and they’d had a lot of fun shopping together.
‘I wonder if Martin has bought much.’
‘Well, he hadn’t when we saw him earlier, but then he did say he was taking his time to decide,’ Clare replied. They had seen Martin just after their hot chocolate break, outside a craft beer shop, browsing the array of cans in the window. He’d looked slightly guilty at being caught looking at beer, but then explained that he’d had a good look around for gifts and was about to head back to purchase his favourites.
‘I bet he’s got something for the babies.’ Jenny adjusted the strap of her handbag on her shoulder. ‘He won’t be able to resist.’
‘He’s a sweetie. Are you sure the outfit I bought for the show is OK?’ Clare asked, doubt filling her now that they were done for the day.
‘It’s beautiful and you look incredible in it. I’m jealous of your slim figure and flat tummy.’ Jenny patted her bump. ‘Only a little bit though, because these two are worth being fat for.’
The automatic doors swished open and the chilly air outside hit Clare like a wave. She enjoyed the cooling rush over her cheeks and neck, feeling it washing away the heat of the shopping centre.
‘Let’s go and find the car and meet Martin then, shall we?’ Jenny looked around them. ‘I can never remember where I’ve parked at the best of times, but since I got pregnant, it’s even worse. I swear I have pregnancy amnesia.’
‘It’s OK, I know where it is.’
They headed across the car park, Clare leading t
he way, her fingers burning from the handles of the bags, but her heart filled with Christmas joy.
‘What was that?’ Sam jumped awake on the sofa. There had been a noise in the kitchen, he was sure of it.
Scout stirred at his side, then hopped off the sofa and went to the door.
‘Hold on, girl,’ Sam said, not wanting her to head out there alone, in case someone had just broken in. Not that there were many cases of burglary in Little Bramble – in fact, there hadn’t been any during the time he’d lived there, but you never knew at this time of year if someone passing through might try their luck. What were those opportunistic burglars called? That was it: creeper burglars. Sam was pretty good at locking doors but sometimes, if he was home, he forgot or didn’t see the need, but he had dozed off on the sofa after lunch and it was already getting dark out.
He paused in the kitchen doorway, gathering his wits, then the back door swung inwards and Alyssa was there.
‘I didn’t know you were coming home,’ he said, crossing the kitchen to greet her, as Scout bounced over to say hello.
‘I just came to get some things. I could see that the lights were off and I thought you might be at work, but I tried the door and it opened, so I wanted to check that you hadn’t just forgotten to lock up.’
His heart sank. She hadn’t come to see him then, just to get some of her stuff.
‘Is there anything you need from in here?’ He opened his arms and gestured around the kitchen. ‘Utensils? Tins? Wine?’
‘No, I’m fine for all that.’
‘You sure? You can take whatever you want.’
‘Honestly, Sam, I don’t want any of it. It’s very kind of you to offer, but Sebastian already has everything we need.’
‘Right, OK.’
‘Look, I did come to see you too. I wanted to make sure that you’re all right.’
‘Oh . . .’ He swayed suddenly. ‘I think I got up too quickly.’ He gripped the kitchen worktop to steady himself.
‘Have you been sleeping?’