by Karen King
You’ve got to pull yourself together, Meg. Get on with your life.
A tap on the door dragged her out of her thoughts. ‘Want a cuppa?’
‘Yes, please,’ she replied.
She remembered accepting Leo’s invitation for a drink later today and that she was going to ask her mum if she wanted to come too. She didn’t want to leave Mum home alone; although she was putting a brave face on things, Meg knew that she was still working through some complicated emotions.
There was another tap on the door a few minutes later and Mum came in carrying a mug of tea. Her eyes were puffy, Meg noticed, and her face pale.
‘Did you sleep okay?’ her mum asked.
‘Like a log.’ Meg took the mug from her mum. ‘How about you?’
‘Tossing and turning. I keep wondering if I’m being selfish, splitting up with your dad like this.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘It’s so messy, Meg. We’ll have to sell the house, split the proceeds, then there’s all the personal stuff, the furniture. I feel like I’m going to be turfing your dad out of his home.’
‘I know but it’s your home too, Mum. You worked and paid the mortgage as well,’ Meg reminded her. She took a sip of her tea. ‘Oliver and I are going to have to do the same. And I need to get somewhere to live, where I can have the bunnies too. Oliver has to let me have them. We can’t split them up, it would be cruel, and I know he loves them too but it was my idea to have them and I can’t bear to be parted from them. I miss them terribly.’
‘I’m sure you can come to some arrangements, love. As the old song goes, “breaking up is hard to do”.’
‘You’re telling me.’ Meg blinked back the tears. Think positive, Meg. You’ve got to get on with your life, she told herself again. It was becoming her mantra.
‘Rose asked us both over for lunch today. Do you fancy it?’ Mum said. ‘Leo and Sam will be there too.’
Why not? It’s better than sitting here moping. ‘Leo also asked me if he could buy me a drink today at the Anchor, to thank me for cheering Sam up, and to ask you to join us. We’re meeting there about four.’
‘That would be lovely. We can all go along after lunch. I’m sure Rose and Rory will join us too,’ Sally said. ‘I can’t believe that it’s only four more days until Christmas, Meg. I know both our lives have changed drastically but we can still make this a good Christmas.’
Meg wouldn’t have known how to get through Christmas as a singleton – for the first time in years – without her mum, and the kind people they had met in Goolan Bay. ‘Definitely,’ she agreed. ‘How about we go for a walk along the coastal path after breakfast? It’ll be beautiful scenery along there, I reckon.’
‘Good idea, it’ll blow the cobwebs away.’ Sally got up. ‘I’m off to have a shower. I’ll leave you to finish your tea.’
‘Thanks, Mum, I won’t be long.’
Meg sat sipping her tea for a while but she was restless and decided to take it into the lounge while Mum was still in the bathroom. Spread out on the coffee table was the family photo album. Curious, Meg sat down and looked at the page it was open at. Mum and Dad’s wedding day. She smiled as she looked at the photo. They were standing outside the registrar’s office, Mum holding onto Dad’s arm. Mum wore a long, floaty white dress with puffed sleeves and a white hat over her long, blonde hair. Dad wore a burgundy velvet suit, his thick dark hair flopping across his face and almost touching his collar. Very eighties. They looked so young and in love. Meg could see the happiness shining out of their eyes. Dad had always said that he’d known Mum was the one for him as soon as she’d walked into the disco but thought that she was far too pretty to bother with him, and that he had been astonished when Mum had agreed to go out with him. Mum had said she’d admired Dad because he’d been so grown up compared to the other lads. ‘I felt I was in safe hands,’ she’d said. When had those ‘safe hands’ got boring, wondered Meg, and when had her dad stopped feeling lucky to be with her mum?
‘Your dad brought that with him. He said that he wanted me to look at it and remember all the good times we had, the family we created and that I was breaking apart.’ Mum stood in the doorway, clad in jeggings and a baggy jumper, rubbing her damp hair with a towel.
‘You look so young in your wedding photo,’ Meg said. ‘Do you think that’s the problem? You got married too young? You never got to have a life, did you?’
Mum sat down beside her, leant over and traced the photo with her fingers. ‘We were in our early twenties, love. A lot of people got married younger than that then, often with a baby on the way. We felt very grown up and we wanted to be together – we were so in love.’ Her eyes misted over. ‘Dan came along, then you a couple of years later, and we were busy rearing you both, but we promised each other that we’d have our life when you were both grown up, that we’d be backpacking pensioners travelling around the world.’ She smiled sadly as she turned the pages. ‘We couldn’t imagine being old then; we had years ahead of us. Now, well, without being morbid, we’ve got more years behind us than ahead of us, and I want to seize them, to make the most of them.’
They turned over more pages, a few photos of Mum and Dad on their honeymoon – sitting at the café by the harbour, Dad standing by his white Mini. ‘He was so proud when he bought that,’ Mum said. ‘We saved for ages, putting away a bit each week from our pay packets. Your dad didn’t agree with debt or borrowing money. I know everyone does it now but back then it was frowned upon.’
More photos followed: both of them standing proudly at the door of their first house, Dad in the garden, Mum obviously pregnant, wearing a loose minidress. Meg and Sally smiled over photos of chubby-faced baby Dan, Mum with her miniskirt and tight polo jumper, hair halfway down her back, holding baby Dan proudly. Then baby Meg in a pram, Dan leaning over, looking at her adorably, Dan and Meg at school, sports day, holidays in Devon. Memories flashed back as they looked through, and one or the other of them would exclaim, ‘Do you remember this?’ or, ‘That’s where Dan got lost,’ when they came to a photo of a beach in Devon. Meg remembered that day: seven-year-old Dan had wandered off looking for starfish, and her parents had been in a panic until a lady had brought him back saying she’d found him crying by the ice-cream hut.
Mum flicked back to the front of the album. ‘This is what your dad looked like when I first met him,’ she said, pointing to a picture of a handsome teenager with a mop of dark hair, sitting on a motorbike. ‘I loved that bike but your dad got rid of it just before we got married, bought the Mini instead because it was more practical.’
‘It’s a bit sad looking through the photos, isn’t it?’ Meg asked. ‘We still have lots of lovely memories though.’
Sally closed the album, her face thoughtful. ‘Yes, but these photos also make me realise that I’m doing the right thing. I don’t know if you can understand that, but when I look at them, I’m happy for those years we spent together. I’m still fond of your father, Meg, and I have no bad feelings towards him, but we are both starting to resent each other. Your dad won’t admit it but I think deep down he knows it’s true. He seems to have more in common with Paula next door than he does with me. As soon as she gets wind that we’ve split up, she’ll be making him pots of tea and home-made jam.’
‘You mean she fancies Dad…?’
‘I think she does, yes. She’s been extra friendly with him ever since her husband, Jim, died a few years ago. To be fair, your dad seems oblivious to it, he just likes chatting to her about the garden.’
Meg was shocked. Paula, the next-door neighbour, had designs on Dad, and Mum didn’t seem worried. ‘Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘It did, but to be honest, Meg, your dad and someone like Paula are probably far better suited than me and him.’ She closed the album firmly. ‘It’s hard, and yes it hurts, but I think it’s best for us to break up. If we stay together any longer, we’re going to start hating each other; we’ll be bitter and the divorce will be messy. I’d rather part now, while I
still have fond feelings for your dad, and we can still be friends.’
Bang went Meg’s plan to try and get her parents back together, then. If there was already someone waiting in the wings for Dad, and Mum wasn’t bothered about it, what chance was there?
Mum stood up. ‘I’d better go and dry my hair before it goes haywire.’ She went back out, leaving Meg to her thoughts.
How would she feel if Oliver got together with someone else? If someone was comforting Oliver right now, as Paula might be comforting her dad?
She shook the thoughts from her mind. Oliver wouldn’t do that. He loved her. The only ‘people’ comforting him right now would be Laurel and Hardy. She imagined the little bunnies scrambling all over the bed. Were they missing her? They always came to greet her when she walked in and loved snuggling on her lap. How she wished she had one of them to cuddle now.
She took out her phone and typed a message to Oliver.
How are you? And Laurel and Hardy? I miss them so much. Can we talk about how we are going to share them?
A few minutes later a message came through. She opened it up to see a picture of the two bunnies lying on the sofa. A lump formed in her throat as she read the message.
I’m okay. You can have the bunnies. I know how much you love them. I’ll move out after Christmas and get a flat until the house is sold. Just let me know when you want to move back and I’ll make sure I’ve gone. It’ll be easier for both of us.
She messaged back:
Thank you. Mum’s rented this cottage until 2 January so I’ll be back then.
New year, new start, she told herself. And a new job too because there was no way they could both still run Party MO and she didn’t think she could face running it alone. Her life had changed forever.
24
Ted
‘Is Sally away again, Ted? I haven’t seen her all week.’ Paula popped her head over the fence and smiled at him.
Ted stopped digging the vegetable patch and turned towards her, leaning on his spade. Paula had been their neighbour for years. She and Sally didn’t have much in common, although they were always pleasant to each other, but Paula was a fellow gardener and often exchanged seeds and tips with Ted. They’d shared a cuppa over the garden fence a few times when Sal had been off on her holidays, and sometimes Paula had passed him over a slice of pie or a dish of hotpot – Paula was a good cook, as was Sally. ‘Yes, she’s gone down to Cornwall with Meg,’ he replied. He hadn’t told anyone yet that Sally had left him. There was no point; he was sure she’d be back for Christmas and he didn’t like everyone knowing his business.
‘Really?’ Paula looked surprised. ‘I would think she’d have too much to do at this time of year. You always have Meg and Dan around for Christmas, don’t you?’
‘We do, but…’ Ted paused. He didn’t want to tell Paula Meg’s business either, but he really wanted to talk to someone and he trusted Paula; she wasn’t one to gossip. ‘Meg and Oliver, they’ve had a bit of a falling out. I’m sure they’ll sort it,’ he added quickly.
‘Oh, so that’s why Sally has gone away with her for a few days. These youngsters, they do fall in and out, don’t they? Although I must say I think Meg and Oliver make a lovely couple. I’m sure they’ll be back together in no time.’ She cocked her head to one side as she surveyed the patch Ted had just dug. ‘It looks like you’ve been working out here for a while. Fancy a cuppa? I’ve just made some scones, nice and hot they are, and I could do with a bit of advice about my cabbages.’
That sounded tempting. He was feeling tired – he hadn’t slept properly since Sal had gone, or eaten properly either for that matter. He felt all out of sorts. Sally would be back, he kept telling himself, but remembering how happy she’d looked, chatting and laughing with those people, he was beginning to doubt it. She hadn’t exactly been pining for him, had she?
‘That’s very kind of you, Paula. I could do with taking a break.’
‘It’s bitter out here; come into my kitchen and warm yourself up a bit,’ she told him. ‘I’ll leave the back door open for you.’ Then she was gone before he could reply.
It had been a while since he’d been in Paula’s house. When Jim, Paula’s husband, was alive, Paula had sometimes invited Ted and Sally over for a cup of coffee, but after a couple of times, Sal had started making some excuse; she wasn’t particularly fond of Paula and, besides, she’d been busy working – they both had been. When Jim had died a few years ago and poor Paula had been distraught, Sal had been good to her, inviting her around, checking on her, and Paula had taken over the gardening that had been Jim’s domain, so she had often turned to Ted for advice. Ted had been glad to help, especially since he’d been retired and had more time on his hands. They’d always drunk their cuppas in their respective gardens though, leaning on the fence, chatting as they sipped. Still, it’s cold, and what harm is there in going in for a cuppa? he thought. Anyway, Sally’s walked out.
So, he took off his wellies, washed his hands, slipped some shoes on and went around next door. The kitchen door was slightly ajar and the waft of fresh scones and flowers greeted him as he walked in. Paula was pouring hot water into a teapot; she turned and smiled at him. ‘Make yourself comfy, Ted.’
Paula’s kitchen was warm and welcoming, and the tea she poured him was just right: dark but not stewed like Sal’s often was, and two sugars. As Ted sat down and sipped the tea, he felt the tension and worry he’d been carrying around with him the past few days evaporate a little.
‘Just butter on your scone, Ted, or jam as well? It’s home-made.’ Paula had cut the scone in half and was now turned to him, smiling.
‘Oh, jam too, please,’ Ted said. His mum had always made her own jam, and Sal used to years ago, although she didn’t do it much now. She was a good cook, mind, but she didn’t bother much now Meg and Dan were grown up. It had been a long time since their kitchen had been warm and cosy like this. He watched Paula, her hair tied back, a cheerful apron around her waist, spreading butter and jam thickly onto two scones.
Sal was right: he and her were like chalk and cheese. Should that matter? They’d built a life together, had children, loved each other. Sal had told him that she hadn’t felt loved for a long time, though, and wasn’t sure that she loved him either. Well, that worked both ways, didn’t it? She wasn’t exactly the perfect wife for him, but he had made the best of it and they had rubbed along okay. He wouldn’t have thrown away all their years together just because they weren’t as lovey-dovey as they used to be.
‘Are you all right, Ted? You look a bit peaky, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Paula sounded concerned as she put the scone on a pretty china plate and placed it on the table in front of him.
Ted stared at it. ‘Sal’s left me,’ he blurted out.
‘Oh, Ted.’ Paula placed her hand on his shoulder. It was warm and comforting. She pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought there was something wrong – you seemed so troubled.’ She leant forward and asked softly, ‘Is there someone else?’
Ted wanted to say no, of course not, then he remembered how Sal had run off down to Cornwall as soon as she had left him, how friendly she had been with that man – Rory. Maybe she hadn’t just met him. Maybe all the time she’d said she’d been going abroad with friends, she’d been meeting this Rory instead? He looked a bit younger though, probably late fifties. But then Sal didn’t look her age. And she certainly didn’t act it.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. She said there’s not, but she said we’re over. She wants a divorce.’ He looked up into Paula’s compassionate eyes. ‘She said I’m boring, that I never want to do anything.’
Paula pursed her lips. ‘Well, really! She should thank her lucky stars that she has such a kind, loyal man for her husband. She’s always off gallivanting and you never say a thing.’ She patted Ted’s hand. ‘Now, don’t you be sitting at home all miserable by yourself at Christmas. You’re very welcome to come and join me and my dad
for Christmas dinner. Dad still plays the occasional game of bowls, you know. You’ll get on well, you two.’
He’d been wondering what to do about Christmas. Dan and Katya had invited him over to theirs, but he wasn’t sure… He always felt like he was in the way when he visited them, and much as he loved Tom, the toddler was a bit of a handful. He just wanted a peaceful life now. It was tempting to accept. Paula always made him welcome and he’d seen her dad a couple of times, a sprightly man in his eighties who had always given him a friendly wave. Why should he sit around waiting for Sal to decide if she wanted to be with him or not? It would serve her right if she did come back for Christmas and he’d made other arrangements. That would show her.
25
Meg
They all ended up in the pub after a huge Sunday lunch, commandeering the whole corner as they sat talking about the presents they would buy with the Christmas Fayre money and who would take them to the hospital – Sam wanted to be involved. Then, once that was sorted, the conversation moved on to the carol service on Christmas Eve, which apparently went on until late in the evening. Rose told them how everyone gathered around the huge Christmas tree on the green for a grand ‘switching-on’ ceremony, which was followed by a carol service, organised by the local church choir. Sally was enthusiastic about joining in, as was Leo, and even Sam looked interested.
As Meg lay in bed later that evening, she thought what a good idea it had been to come down to Goolan Bay for Christmas. It seemed so natural to be with Rose, Rory, Leo and Sam now, it was as if she’d known them all for ages instead of only a few days. It could have been really melancholy with just her and Mum but meeting the others and getting involved with the Fayre had given them something to focus on. Although seeing the close bond between Sam and Leo – how Leo tried to tease Sam out of his sulky moods, how they jostled along together – only reinforced how much Meg wanted a child of her own. She realised it might never happen now. She loved Oliver so much that she didn’t see how she would ever meet anyone else that she wanted a child with. Right now, she certainly wasn’t going looking for anyone, and she couldn’t see herself trying to go it alone. But she also knew she couldn’t settle for a marriage that was childless by choice. She sighed. Her future that had once felt full of promise now suddenly felt bleak.