by Helen Rolfe
Audrey looped an arm across her gran’s shoulders. ‘Chill, Gran, he’s a cool dude.’
‘That means nothing to me.’
‘He’s really nice. He says to thank you for the wreath, he’ll send you a message soon, and I was to tell you he hasn’t had a fresh one hanging on his door in years.’ She took out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. ‘Here, a photograph of it.’ She swiped to the side. ‘And another of him with it. I could print it out for you if you like, you could keep it by your bed.’
‘Audrey,’ Sam warned, ‘That’s enough teasing.’
The mood was high in the house that evening. Sam poured a second glass of wine, they watched Home Alone together, and when Gran turned in for the night, Audrey helped Sam empty the dishwasher and put everything away.
‘Gran seems to really like Morris,’ said Audrey as she put the knives into the cutlery drawer.
‘I think it’s early days,’ Sam smiled. ‘Let’s see what happens.’
Audrey took out the forks one by one from the plastic cutlery section. ‘Mum, do you know anyone called Eddie?’
The plate she was holding almost slipped from her grip. ‘What makes you ask?’
‘I heard Gran mention the name.’
‘Really?’ Not a chance. Her mum didn’t talk about Eddie to anyone; she hadn’t since the day she told Sam he’d ‘gone to a better place’. Those were her exact words and Sam had never forgotten them.
‘Maybe I misheard.’ Audrey used a tea towel to get the drips off the upside down cups on the top racks before neatly slotting them into the cupboard. She hung the tea towel over the handle of the oven door to dry. ‘I’m off to bed, but I’ll see you for your wedding makeover tomorrow.’
‘Goodnight.’ This was a start, a border crossed perhaps, and the start of them being not only mother and daughter but good friends too. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
Sam looked through the window into the darkness, at the garden that hadn’t changed a bit since she was a child. The only differences were the moss growing on the roof of the shed, which seemed to build up each time she came here, the rockery that had sprigs of colour in the right season, and the low wall separating the patio from the lawn, which had been repaired and was now straight enough to sit on comfortably. Even the washing line was the same, one strand broken the way it had been when Sam was a kid.
She looked at the Christmas shopping list she and her mum had drawn up together. She’d be shopping for all of that in the morning with Charlie, and so before the weight of the name Eddie being mentioned in passing by the daughter who knew nothing of him got too much, Sam headed off to bed. She’d do her best not to let thoughts of her little brother creep into her head tonight. Those dreams never ended well, much like reality she supposed.
Charlie took charge of the trolley in the supermarket, which was heaving even though they still had a few shopping days left before Christmas. It was such a long time since Sam had had a man at her side to do a food shop; she was enjoying floating up and down the aisles, choosing exactly what they needed, adding a few extras that weren’t on the list. Dampening down her feelings for Charlie was getting more difficult by the day and every time he smiled her way, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the pretence she was happily single.
‘Now those are definitely on the list.’ Charlie stopped next to the luxury pigs in blankets, although quite what the difference was from the bulk-standard version at half the price, Sam had no idea, unless it was all down to the fanciness of the packaging.
‘You sure we have enough?’ she asked.
About to answer, he changed his tune. ‘I detect a bit of sarcasm.’
‘There are only five of us.’
Three packets clutched in his hand, he said, ‘About that? Are you sure it’s okay to have Layla and I over at Veronica’s for Christmas? I know it’s a big ask – this is the first year in a while she’s had family around her.’
Without thinking, Sam reached out a hand and put it over one of his. ‘Charlie, you and Layla are as much family to Mum as Audrey and I are, I can see that. You’re coming for Christmas lunch, end of discussion.’
Their gaze held a moment longer until they broke apart when someone asked to get past and he dropped the products into the already sizeable collection of shopping. ‘Just in case,’ he said, snatching one more tray of pigs in blankets from the shelf before Sam could argue the point any further.
She grinned and they walked on to the next aisle to pick up the turkey. They moved to hams, debating which size to go for, onto cold meats and then the prawns. They made sure they had a selection of sweet treats, plenty of gravy powder, ingredients for the stuffing, a box of the tackiest crackers they could find.
‘They’re all rubbish anyway,’ Charlie declared, ‘might as well see if we can make them as terrible as possible.’
‘Agreed.’
‘I hear the Christmas wreaths went down a treat,’ said Charlie as they hovered near the Christmas puddings, perusing the boxes to select whichever sounded the best.
‘The neighbours we chose were incredibly grateful according to Audrey. Particularly Morris.’
‘I’ve heard about Morris,’ he said with a knowing smile.
‘Mum seems rather keen on him and Audrey says he’s lovely.’
‘So why the face?’
She made the final choice for Christmas pudding and added it in; Charlie would get first dibs on ice-cream in the next aisle. ‘Because she’s my mother. Because she has issues. Because she’s seventy-one.’
His laughter bellowed a bit too loudly in the frozen section. ‘Good for her, I say. Romance and sex don’t die because you reach seventy, or forty for that matter.’
Sam, watching the scar on his lip as he spoke, moving each time he laughed, side-stepped the reference to their own ages. ‘I know it doesn’t. But…’
‘It’s your mother.’ He opened up a freezer compartment, shivered at the rush of cold air and pulled out a big tub of mince pie flavoured ice-cream.
Sam nodded in agreement before he added it to the already-full trolley. ‘It’s my mother.’
They grabbed two big bottles of Baileys Irish Cream before they left and back at his house they unloaded as many items as would fit in his freezer, saving the things for the main meal for Veronica’s house. And after they’d crammed everything into the fridge at number nine, Sam walked Charlie to the end of the path.
She looked up at the sky, him on one side of the little gate, her on the other. ‘That was a snowflake.’
‘You’re imagining it.’
‘I am not! There, another one.’ And when one landed on his cheek she reached out for it to prove it to him but it melted on the tip of her finger. ‘I promise it was there.’
‘I believe you. There’s one in your hair.’ But he didn’t attempt to reach it, instead he was looking down at her and she felt her stomach flip.
‘I wish you were coming to this wedding with me.’ She should’ve asked him, told him she needed a plus-one.
‘I’m working later, I couldn’t have gone with you. You know, had you asked me when you got the invite…’ he teased.
She gave him a playful nudge at the gate. ‘I’ll see you again soon, Charlie.’
‘You can count on it.’
She stayed at the gate the whole time he walked down the lane, up his own garden path and waved from his front door.
And when she finally went inside she told her mum, ‘Not a word.’ She hadn’t missed the hopeful look on Veronica’s face; it was the same look that came Sam’s way every time Charlie’s name was mentioned.
‘I’m not saying anything, well apart from you’d better get your skates on.’
She checked the time. ‘I thought we were quicker than that. Is Audrey out of the bathroom?’
‘She’s gone to do a bit of Christmas shopping in the village. Bathroom is all yours.’
Sam had a long, luxurious shower. Even though she didn’t have a
s much time as she’d planned, she was usually generous in her estimates and she still had plenty to spare for hair and make-up. She used her matching Chanel Coco shower gel, plus body lotion and put on jeans and a shirt for travel. She laid out the silk navy and caramel dress with dropped shoulders and a tie belt which would go perfectly with the Ted Baker heels she hadn’t worn since she’d stopped working in an office. Her uniform was now far more casual and although she was looking forward to dressing up this afternoon, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to doing it full time. It was oddly liberating not to have to do it.
When she heard the door go she trotted down the stairs, excited to get going with her hair and see what magic Audrey could weave. They’d planned large rollers, sexy waves, subtle make-up colours that brought out her blue eyes. She hadn’t fought the make-up artist career choice in a while. Strangely it didn’t seem all that important these days, or perhaps she was finally seeing the person her daughter had become.
‘I’m all yours.’ She smiled at Audrey, but she didn’t exactly get the reception she’d expected when her daughter glared back at her, hands firmly planted on her hips. ‘Everything all right?’ Sam asked.
‘You tell me.’ Audrey even ignored poor Claude, who weaved between her ankles, desperate for some attention.
‘I’m lost,’ said Sam. A moment ago she’d been all relaxed, the afterglow of a morning with Charlie lingering enough to light her up inside.
‘When were you going to tell me?’ Audrey yelled, bringing Veronica out from the kitchen.
‘Tell you what?’
‘That you’ve known for months that Dad doesn’t want me to go to New Zealand. Not now and probably not ever. Thanks to you.’
‘Audrey, wait a minute. I—’
‘What did you say to him? You must’ve told him how horrible I’ve been, the trouble I’ve got in at school, how I couldn’t choose decent friends, how I was throwing away my future playing with make-up. You put him off having me there. You did, didn’t you?’
‘No, I promise you I didn’t.’
‘You expect me to believe he just changed his mind?’ And with that she stomped up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door so hard both Sam and Veronica jumped.
Her mum grabbed Sam’s arm before she marched on up there. ‘Sam, not now. You’ve got a wedding to go to and the last thing you need is to rush because you’re late. You need to go and do your hair and your make-up and then drive safely and calmly. Please.’
Sam’s heart thudded. Why hadn’t she told Audrey the truth, that her dad didn’t want her? That he was a selfish prick and expected everyone else to fit their lives around him?
She knew why not. Because Audrey would find a way of blaming her like she had just now.
Sam should know because Sam had done it to Veronica enough times.
Chapter Six
Audrey
Audrey was a little bit calmer when she came downstairs ready to go and meet her friends. But the anger was still bubbling away inside after the confrontation with her mum. How could she poison her dad’s mind against her and make him not want her to go to New Zealand? It was cruel, that’s what it was. And just like that, the closeness she was beginning to feel had been thrown right back in her face.
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she warned her gran the second she saw her.
‘Fair enough.’ Gran smiled. ‘Don’t you look lovely.’
Audrey managed a smile. She was excited about going out with friends, but nervous too. Alex would be there and he’d already said he’d like to spend some time alone with her after the pizza restaurant. He’d suggested he walk her home and her tummy was doing somersaults every time she thought about it, whenever she recalled the details of their text messages that had flown back and forth while she tried to style her hair, put on some make-up, and chopped and changed her mind about what to wear at least a dozen times. She’d settled on her favourite ripped jeans with an off-the-shoulder jumper as soft as the skin on her delicate collarbones. Alex had asked her once if she was a dancer; she looked so graceful, he’d said. The thought of his compliment made her giddy now but she hadn’t let on to her gran that she might be spending time with only Alex later on.
‘What’s the movie?’ Veronica asked.
Glad they weren’t talking about Mum, Dad or New Zealand, she told Gran what they were seeing at the local cinema. ‘There’s a showing of It’s a Wonderful Life.’
‘Well, that’s something I wholly approve of.’ She pulled her granddaughter in for a hug. ‘Do you have your house key?’
‘Yes, Gran.’
‘And you have enough money? You’ll be back no later than eleven o’clock?’
‘Yes, Gran, I have enough money, and yes, Gran, I’ll be back by curfew,’ she smiled.
‘I’m not sure about you walking in the dark, although Mapleberry is quite safe.’
‘Gran, stop worrying.’ She kissed her on the cheek. ‘And have a lovely evening.’
Gran waved her off and Audrey made her way past the playground and over to the main street in the village. She waved at Clare who was bustling around inside the Mapleberry Mug serving customers, continued on her way and with her friends already at the cinema, she did her best not to make it too obvious she was scanning faces for Alex.
‘He’ll be here,’ Vicky whispered so the others couldn’t hear.
Audrey almost thought he wasn’t going to turn up but as they stood in line to buy tickets with a crowd who all seemed a lot older than they were, she heard a deep voice at her side, and caught a waft of the aftershave he used at school.
Vicky made sure Alex and Audrey sat next to each other for the movie and the group of seven chatted away until the lights dimmed and the movie began. It was then his hand drifted to hers, their fingers linked and she held her breath so long she wondered how she’d make it to the end of the movie with these unfamiliar feelings whooshing around inside of her.
‘I’m not really in the mood for pizza,’ Alex told her when the credits rolled and they began to file out. ‘I’ve got some beers in my bag,’ he whispered, sending her insides into meltdown he got so close. ‘We could go somewhere, just the two of us.’
She turned to him but Vicky snatched her away to go to the ladies.
‘You should go,’ Vicky urged the minute they were behind closed doors.
‘You heard what he said?’
‘I did, and this is your chance. I knew it!’ She clapped her hands together. ‘I told you he liked you.’
‘He really does, doesn’t he? But what about pizza? I don’t want to desert you all.’
‘Don’t even think about it – just promise me you will tell me everything.’ She hugged Audrey. ‘And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
Back in the foyer the others drifted off and Alex, who’d been leaning up against the marble pillar near the front desk, came her way.
‘So, that was fun,’ he said as they met with the night air, walking side-by-side down the front steps of the classic old building housing the independent cinema. Gran had told her that fifteen years ago there had been plans to demolish it, as well as part of the woods surrounding Mapleberry, and build a big complex with shops, restaurants and a bigger cinema, but locals had put up a fight and it never happened. Audrey was kind of glad. Even though she hadn’t known the village before, she liked it just the way it was, more cosy, a bit romantic.
‘It was a good movie,’ Audrey replied, doing up her top button. Inside she’d been so warm next to him she’d almost forgotten it was winter outside.
‘I wasn’t talking about the movie.’
Audrey didn’t want to put her gloves on in case Alex held her hand. She didn’t care about the cold, the threat of frostbite. It would all be worth it for him.
‘Where are we going?’ They were heading across the road towards the woodland that surrounded Mapleberry, not the same side as the field with the beautiful Christmas tree she’d been to see with her mum, but the dense area sh
e’d never been to.
‘You’ll see,’ he grinned. He took her hand and when their fingers slotted together the same way they had for the entire movie, her tummy fluttered just like before.
Audrey’s excitement pushed away the fury caused by her mum. They’d been so close looking at the tree, working on the kindness calendar together, both of them a part of Gran’s life as she began to find her way again. And what had it all been for? Nothing, as far as Audrey could see now. Her mum still wanted to pull her strings as though she was a puppet she had full control of, and she’d ruined everything with Dad. Audrey had to wonder what sort of doubts her mum had put in his mind, what she had said to convince him she no longer had a place in his new family?
Audrey bit her cheek hard enough that it hurt and scared away a tear threatening to escape. She sneaked a look at Alex walking alongside her, his mop of dark hair almost in his eyes, a slight dimple on his cheek that seemed to let him get away with a lot at school. Mrs Masters in English the other day had been ready to tear shreds from him for handing in some homework late until he’d flashed her a smile, with an excuse that his mum hadn’t been well, and she’d let him off with a warning.
They followed a track into the woods, unease mounting for Audrey. It was dark, not a single lamppost, not a shop in sight and the only sounds were of the wind and cracking of the branches around them. ‘Was your mum really sick?’ she asked, more because she was nervous than the need to know.
‘What? Oh, you mean my excuse for Mrs Masters. All true, Mum hasn’t been well for a while.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be, it is what it is.’ He didn’t seem to want to talk about it and given how she was on the topic of mothers, she let it be.
They came to a clearing and he set down his bag on an overturned log, took out some beers. He handed one to her after he’d unscrewed the top and then after doing the same to his, clinked his bottle against hers. ‘Cheers, Merry Christmas, Audrey.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ she just about managed. Although she wasn’t sure about beer. She’d had a sip once but never a full bottle.