The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, her mum was gently shaking her. ‘Clare, dear? Don’t lie like that . . . you’ll have a bad neck in the morning. Why don’t you go up to bed?’

  ‘I can’t feel my legs.’ Clare shook her head, trying to wake up properly.

  ‘That’s because you have a large dog lying on them. Goliath, move a bit for Clare, won’t you?’

  Clare watched as Goliath shifted, sitting upright like a statue, but he didn’t get down, staying next to her like a bodyguard.

  ‘Ah, that’s better. There’s feeling rushing into them now . . . but ooh!’ Clare rubbed her legs. ‘I have pins and needles.’

  ‘Do you want another mug of tea?’

  ‘Yes please, Mum.’ She sat up. ‘Shall I get it?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. You stay there and I’ll make one.’

  Clare gazed into the fire, watching the red-amber glow of the logs, looking for faces and other images the way she used to as a child. It was a game she had played with her dad and he always agreed that he could see whatever creature she named, although now she knew he probably hadn’t been able to. But he had done that for her, wanting to share that with her. She missed him deeply and the longing to see him was like a physical pain, one more sharp ache to pile on top of the rest. If he’d been here right now, he’d have sat with her, cuddled her and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. He’d have told her that it would all work out all right in the end and she’d have believed him, because dads knew these things. Dads were rocks for their daughters. Their job was to nurture and protect. Or so Clare had always believed, but she also knew that not all dads were like hers had been and some weren’t very good at the job. Just like mums. After all, she’d had a dad she could lean on but her mum . . . it was a completely different dynamic.

  When Elaine returned to the lounge carrying a tray, she handed Clare a mug of tea, then set a plate of gingerbread cookies on the coffee table.

  ‘I thought you might be peckish.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Clare nodded, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to eat again. Her throat was tight, her stomach closed over with grief, and the thought that Sam had enjoyed some of her mum’s baking earlier that evening brought fresh tears to her eyes. Would he ever enjoy it again?

  Her mum sat on the other sofa, cradling her mug between her hands.

  ‘What’s wrong, Clare?’ she asked finally. ‘I thought you’d have been with Sam tonight. You two looked so happy this evening that I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.’

  Clare sniffed. ‘I could say the same about you and Iolo.’

  ‘Oh, I sent him home alone. He has things to sort out tomorrow and I needed a night alone in my own bed. I’m shattered after this evening, but it was a lot of fun. Well done, my darling.’

  Clare met her mum’s eyes. ‘Thanks.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It was a joint effort, though.’

  ‘But you started it and put in a lot of work. You have done wonders for village morale.’

  Clare forced her mouth into a smile, but it fell away quickly.

  ‘Anyway, Clare, you evaded my question.’

  Clare sipped her tea, wincing as it scalded her tongue, but glad of the physical pain as a distraction from the churning inside.

  ‘I . . . I don’t know, Mum. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Don’t you like Sam?’

  ‘Yes. A lot. But it’s complicated.’

  ‘Love always is.’ Her mum nodded, then sighed. ‘But it’s worth it.’

  ‘That’s debatable.’

  ‘In what way?’ Elaine tucked her legs underneath her and turned to give Clare her full attention.

  ‘I thought I’d got it right with Jason but look how that turned out. I failed to make my marriage work.’

  ‘Darling, that’s not true. You did your best with Jason. I know you did, I saw how hard you worked at your marriage.’

  ‘And if that much hard work leads to failure, what would less effort lead to?’ Clare shifted on the sofa, then finished her tea and placed the mug on the coffee table. ‘How will I ever know if I’m going to get it right?’

  ‘Love is always a chance.’

  ‘But you had a happy marriage to Dad.’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘What?’ Clare bristled. How could this be true? ‘But you two loved each other!’

  ‘We did, but there were difficult times. Every relationship has ups and downs.’

  ‘When were there difficult times?’

  ‘After I had you.’

  Clare pulled the throw up to her chest, digging her fingers into the plush fabric, feeling suddenly cold.

  ‘I love you, Clare, and I always have done but I never wanted children. I had no maternal urges at all, and when I fell pregnant, I was devastated. I loved my job, was climbing the ladder in my career, which wasn’t at all easy for a woman to do back in the seventies, then suddenly I found myself with morning sickness and swollen ankles. Along with anaemia, I had low blood pressure and I had to take time off work. It affected my career for quite some time because I had to have sick leave followed by maternity leave. Taking that much time away from school was frowned upon by management and it damaged my career.’

  ‘I thought you always loved your job and were happy at work?’

  ‘I did love it, but I was never more than head of department. I wanted more . . . to be a deputy head teacher, possibly even head.’ She sounded wistful, as if her life was playing out before her eyes on a film.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Clare gripped the throw tighter. ‘For ruining your life.’

  ‘No, no, Clare, that’s not what I meant at all. You brought so much joy – but it was your father who loved you as you should have been loved. I think I failed you in that respect.’

  ‘You resented me?’

  ‘Not resented, more . . . wished things had been different.’

  ‘That sounds like pretty much the same thing.’

  ‘Semantics perhaps, but sometimes it’s difficult to explain away a lifetime of feelings.’ Elaine rubbed her eyes. ‘Feelings are fluid too, so it wasn’t as if I felt the same way every day. I loved you, certainly, but I always felt guilty for not loving you in the way that mothers should love their children.’

  ‘I’ve always known.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘And yet, with Kyle, you’re different. Warmer, somehow. I’m so glad of that.’

  ‘With Kyle it’s different. His arrival didn’t take anything away from my life. That sounds dreadful, doesn’t it? But having you ruined my career and left me with enormous guilt because I felt that I had failed you. Kyle has simply added value.’

  ‘Did your own childhood affect you, do you think?’ Clare held her breath, asking a question she had always wanted to ask before.

  ‘Very much so. I’m convinced of it.’

  ‘Will you tell me about it now?’ Clare’s exhaustion had numbed to a gentle nausea that drifted around, polluting her mind and body like a hangover. Her head felt woolly and her eyes stung but she wanted to hear more, to finally understand her mum’s behaviour.

  ‘I will.’ Elaine nodded, the dark shadows under her eyes were like halfmoons, her skin pallid and her chest rose and fell rapidly. ‘I know I owe you that much at the very least.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Clare hugged herself, already hurting at having what she had suspected her whole life confirmed: her mum had never really wanted her and that had made it difficult for her to love herself.

  ‘My mother wasn’t really my mother. What I mean by that is that the woman who raised me was actually my aunt. My biological mother got pregnant with me at seventeen, which was very young to have a baby and, at that time, single mothers were frowned upon. My mother’s sister was married with two children, both boys, one just a year older than me and the other three years older. Her husband was a kind man, who understood his sister-in-law’s predicament and who would have done anything to sup
port his wife. My grandparents were already dead, so my aunt and uncle claimed me as their own. Not long after my birth, my mother disappeared from the small Welsh mining town where we lived and, to my knowledge, she was never seen again.

  I called my auntie Mam, not knowing any better until I was sixteen, when she told me the truth. They were good parents, but money was tight. My uncle lost his job when the mine closed – there were a lot of pit closures in the sixties – and it hit him and the town hard. My aunt worked, my eldest cousin left home and went away to work, but the cousin who was a year my senior was a lazy lout who spent most of his time in the pub. I left school at sixteen, feeling that I was a drain on the family finances and finding the small terraced house claustrophobic. My aunt and uncle were arguing more and more, my cousin made things worse, and I needed to escape. So I did.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Clare was intrigued by the story, even though she was incredibly hurt. A small part of her had hoped for a different confession that would reassure her that her mum had loved and wanted her.

  ‘I headed for London.’

  ‘At sixteen?’

  Her mum nodded.

  ‘Why have you never told me this?’

  Elaine shrugged, her face haggard in the firelight.

  ‘I didn’t want to remember, I guess. My aunt and uncle were good people, but they were trapped in their life, and although I knew they cared about me, they didn’t love me as they would have if I’d actually been theirs. There was always a hesitancy in their attempts at affection, always something withheld. Perhaps they were like it with their sons too, I never noticed, but I remember feeling empty and alone for most of my childhood.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’ Clare picked at the throw, trying not to think too hard about her mum as a sixteen-year-old girl, lonely and lost.

  ‘I believe that it toughened me, made me resilient and resourceful. But sadly, it also made me reserved when it came to my own child. I don’t think I actually knew how to love, you, Clare. I saw other mothers who were besotted with their babies, but for me it was different. You were so needy, as babies are, and you took up so much time and effort at a stage in my life when I wanted to be at work, proving that I was as good as any man in the school, that I was senior management material and that I deserved to be promoted.’

  Clare didn’t respond; it was too painful. Times were different now, but gender equality issues were still there, not always as prevalent perhaps, but for her mum, back then, it would have been an uphill battle. ‘So – so how did you manage in London?’

  ‘I found work cleaning pub toilets and the owner had a small bedsit he let to me. Soon, I was pulling pints and saving my pennies. I realised that I couldn’t do that for the rest of my life, so I started using the library to study and then gained qualifications. I continued to work in the evenings while training to become a teacher then, when I qualified, I left bar work behind.’

  ‘How did you and dad meet?’

  ‘I thought we’d told you that.’

  Clare shook her head.

  ‘It was nothing dramatic or romantic. A mutual friend set us up on a blind date. I didn’t expect to like your father, wasn’t even that interested in finding someone, but when I saw him, I just knew he was the one for me.’

  ‘He always said you were the only one for him.’

  ‘We were lucky. We fell in love and had a good marriage. We were also very lucky to have you, even if you were an accident.’ Elaine pushed her hair back from her face, but it swung forwards again, so she tucked it behind her ears. ‘I’m so sorry for not being a good enough mum, Clare. I just think that I didn’t really know how. My aunt was kind and she did all the things necessary to look after me – feeding me, making sure I ate my vegetables, all that functional stuff – but the emotional preparation just wasn’t there.’

  Clare thought of her own childhood, of the gaping hole that her mum had left by not giving her the attention she craved. But then she thought of the love and time she had received from her dad, her paternal grandparents and Jenny. Though she had lost out, her own relationship with Elaine being more functional than affectionate, she had found a balance of sorts in the love from others around her. She had then gone on to have Kyle and done her utmost to make him feel loved, probably too much at times. Kyle had never been afraid to fall in love.

  But Clare had . . .

  ‘I know that you felt there was a gap in your life; I felt that in mine too. I think it’s because we expect our mothers to be heroes, believe that they should love us above all others. But that’s not always how it works, Mum. You were abandoned by your mother, who was little more than a child when she had you, then raised by her sister, who had her own reasons for remaining reserved. You didn’t want children and I was a shock. I’m not surprised you found it difficult to love me.’

  ‘I always loved you, Clare, but I don’t think I loved you enough. Goodness knows I beat myself up about it regularly, but I tried to be good at everything else. I was a good wife, I think, and I was a good teacher, took the ones who needed extra support under my wing. I knew how they felt. Sadly, the irony of it is that while I was doing all that, I was neglecting my own daughter. And, then, of course, the relationship between you and your dad was tough for me; not because I resented how much he loved you, but because I knew you and I could never be that close. When you cried as a baby, it should have been me you turned to for comfort, but it was always your father. It was as if you knew from the moment you were born that I wasn’t going to be enough for you.’

  They sat in silence, gazing at the fire, the ticking of the clock on the mantel and Goliath’s snoring lulling them with their consistent familiarity.

  ‘I think that our relationship sent me searching for a kind of replacement.’ The revelation hit Clare like a lightning bolt. ‘I never felt like I was enough for you, so I went looking for that kind of fulfilment elsewhere. That’s probably why I fell for Jason. I wasn’t even sure that he really loved me, but I’d have taken anything, just to feel accepted and wanted.’

  Her mum emitted a small cry like a wounded animal.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘No, don’t be. I’m glad I can finally understand it. Jason wasn’t a bad man, but he was never the right man. I settled rather than waiting, instead of having time alone to work out who I was and what I wanted from life. However, none of it matters now because I had Kyle – and I would never be without my son.’

  ‘You are a wonderful mum, Clare. Truly wonderful. Kyle is very lucky to have you.’

  Clare smiled, the compliment precious and welcome.

  ‘He’s so happy and contented with himself and who he is. I’m very grateful for that.’

  ‘And what of you now, Clare – and Sam?’

  Clare shook her head. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t be in a relationship with someone until I’ve found myself. I can’t surrender more than I have to give. I tried to do it with Jason for years and it just left me depleted. I barely had the energy to exist outside of home.’

  ‘Clare, darling, you don’t have to surrender anything. You can be yourself and live your life for you as well as having a fulfilling relationship. It’s not all or nothing, and you are far stronger than you realise. You are resilient and adaptable, and you deserve to be happy.’

  Clare swallowed, letting the words sink in.

  ‘But – but I told him I couldn’t be with him. He was so upset. He’ll never forgive me for that.’

  ‘I am sure that if you rang him right now, he’d be overjoyed to hear from you.’

  Heart racing, blood whooshing through her ears, Clare stayed very still, trying to envisage if she had the strength to apologise to Sam, to explain to him everything she had just been told and to convey to him exactly how much it had all affected her.

  What if they could slow down a bit, be together, but cement their friendship, allow her to continue her own journey while getting to know each other better? Neither of them had to make huge sacrifices,
to give up the things and people they cared about. They could learn and grow together. Surely that was what made a good relationship?

  She reached for her phone on the coffee table.

  It was late. There was a chance that Sam would already be asleep.

  She’d ring him and leave a message if he didn’t answer.

  She glanced at her mum and Elaine nodded, then got up and left the room, but not before she’d blown her daughter a kiss.

  Clare swiped the screen, found Sam’s number, then pressed call . . .

  Chapter 29

  Turning the postcard over, Clare looked at the picture again. It was one of those photo cards that could be made using photos from a mobile phone, and it showed Jason in a yoga tree pose, his arms above his head, hands clasped, one leg bent with the foot touching the inner thigh of the other. He was tanned and toned and his face beamed at the camera.

  He was happy.

  Clare had seen the postcard when it arrived a few days earlier, landing on the mat from where Kyle quickly rescued it. Jason had addressed it to Kyle, Clare and Elaine, which Clare appreciated. He had never been a cruel or bitter man, and there was a part of her that would always care about his welfare. She was just glad that they had both been able to find their way in life, even if it had taken until they were in their forties.

  She read the postcard again, smiling at the brevity of the message. Typical Jason. He was having fun, relaxing, making the most of his time in Vietnam before heading somewhere else in the New Year. He wasn’t sure where yet, but would be in touch. He was free.

  Clare placed the card back on the mantel next to the Christmas cards and went out to the hallway. In the mirror, she checked her appearance. In the sparkly black dress that she’d bought for the show, paired with black boots, she felt good. All the walking, Tai Chi and horse riding had toned her up, but she’d kept her curves and she liked them. She was a woman in her mid-forties and that was OK. She was finding peace with herself, looking for the positives rather than the flaws and it certainly helped to silence that critical inner voice.