Last Christmas Page 10

  Marianne was walking in the rain. There was something satisfyingly cleansing about Shropshire rain: even when it was cold, there was an invigorating quality to it that walking through rain-drenched London streets lacked. If she was suffering from the Heathcliff effect, she may as well act like a Brontë heroine and catch consumption or something. She’d always found the idea of that very romantic as a kid, although as an adult it seemed somewhat less appealing. And, given that Luke wasn’t exactly likely to rush to her bedside stricken with guilt and laden with red roses, there wasn’t much point getting a terminal disease.

  But walking in the rain was a good purge of her spirits. Despite her assurances to Pippa that now she’d really accept things were over between her and Luke, Marianne actually felt worse than ever. The way Luke had looked through her, like she meant nothing, nothing at all, had cut her to the quick. He used to look at her as if she set his world on fire. He’d told her that she meant everything to him, that a life without her wasn’t worth living. And he hadn’t meant one single solitary word. Whereas she had. She’d really believed she and Luke were destined to be together forever. Walking out in the pouring rain, her thoughts churned over and over to no helpful purpose. And she realised with a jolt that she was crying, really crying for the first time in months. Great racking sobs were coming out of her, and she found herself shaking violently. How was she ever going to get over this? It was the greatest betrayal of her life.

  She didn’t notice at first she’d strayed into the edges of Gabriel’s land. Slowly but surely she was beginning to work out the geography of the area and, as she walked down footpaths that meandered through the farms dotted about the hills, she was beginning to know which farms were which, and whose sheep belonged to whom. Gabriel’s, she knew, were a medium-sized sheep with black faces known as Shropshires, but only because Pippa had told her. She also recognised the telltale blue brand mark that signified they belonged to Gabriel’s farm.

  Only not today. She’d been so preoccupied that she’d failed to notice there weren’t any sheep on the hillside at all. Where were they all? Ever since she’d been here, a feature of her walks had been the sheep who wandered across her path willy-nilly or fled up the hillside at her approach. She’d been spooked by the sheep at first, as she found the way they suddenly ambled in front of her on the paths a bit unnerving, but had gradually got used to them and now a walk wasn’t complete if she hadn’t said hello to a few sheep on the way. But today there were none.

  A noise caught her attention. A bleating sound that didn’t seem quite right. It was coming from a little way down the hill and, as Marianne walked down the steep path that led to the fields, the noise became more urgent and panicky. Maybe there was a sheep in trouble. She scrambled to the edge of the path, and looked down. In a dip in the hillside was a sheep, bleating frantically. A very pregnant sheep. Somehow it must have fallen over the edge and got stuck. The poor thing kept trying to get up and collapsing again. Hang on…Marianne cast her mind back to a nature programme she’d watched a while back, from which she’d learnt that when sheep are about to give birth they keep standing up and sitting down. As if on cue, the sheep stood up and its waters broke. Holy cow. Now what was she supposed to do?

  Catherine was sitting down in the lounge with a well-deserved glass of wine by the time Noel got home. She was exhausted. Magda had gone out for the evening and Cat had had a fraught teatime during which Melanie had left the table in tears because Paige had ‘looked at her in a nasty way’. The advent of hormones and secondary school had rendered her eldest daughter sensitive in the extreme. Cat didn’t know what had got into her, but was struggling to come to terms with the fact that the little girl she loved was approaching womanhood faster than her mother would like. A few more years and she’d be leaving home, her life just beginning, while Cat’s would be contracting. She felt an oddly jealous pang when she thought of the future that Mel had before her. Was that normal, she wondered, or was she going to turn into a bitter old hag as her daughter shone young and bright and beautiful in front of her? She hoped not. For the first time in her life when she read Ruby fairy tales, she was starting to sympathise with the wicked stepmother more than the beautiful princess. That couldn’t be right.

  At least all the fraughtness had stopped her thinking about the rest of her utterly stressful day. It had started badly when she’d turned up to see Mum for a cup of coffee, and been confronted with a furious rant about Cat interfering in her business.

  ‘How dare you ask Auntie Eileen if I had any money worries?’ Mum said. ‘I’m not a child. I have managed my own finances pretty successfully all these years, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ said Cat, ‘it was just with you having your electricity cut off, and seeing all those red bills last time I was here, I was worried about you.’

  ‘How dare you spy on me!’ Mum was bright red in the face. Cat had never seen her like this before. She backed down at a million miles an hour.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to pry. I was concerned, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, there’s no need to be,’ retorted Mum. ‘I made a mistake. It’s not like I can’t cope.’

  ‘I’ve never said you couldn’t,’ said Cat. ‘But are you sure you’ve got enough money?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ Mum looked perplexed. ‘You know I have a good pension.’

  ‘So there’s nothing wrong?’ said Cat.

  ‘Repeat after me, “Everything is fine”,’ said Mum. ‘Cat, you worry too much and you don’t need to worry about me.’

  So that was that. But the niggle of worry remained. She sipped her glass of wine and cuddled up to Noel watching the news. She didn’t mention her concerns about Mum, as Noel had already made it clear that he thought she was overreacting. Maybe she was. In every other way her mother was perfectly fine. Cat tried to convince herself that there was nothing to worry about, but the growing knot of anxiety in her stomach told her she hadn’t succeeded.

  Gabriel was scouring the hillside in the rain. One of his ewes was missing. In the palaver of getting round Luke’s car, he hadn’t noticed. He only realised his mistake when he got back to the farm and herded the sheep into the shed. She must have wandered off. It was one of the ewes who was close to lambing. Gabriel knew he should have had them all in by now but since Eve had left he had found it increasingly difficult to juggle everything, and now he was cursing himself for his lack of planning. Though there were rarely problems with Shropshire sheep at lambing time, this particular ewe had been rather large and he suspected she was carrying triplets. If something went wrong she might die on that hillside, and he couldn’t risk that happening. So now he was out searching for her with all the kit he needed in case she gave birth: rubber gloves, string, Vaseline, were all stowed away in his backpack.

  He heard a shout and saw Marianne scrabbling towards him.

  ‘I think one of your sheep might be about to give birth,’ she was calling.

  Gabriel raced towards Marianne, who showed him where the ewe was stuck. It was an awkward clamber, but Gabriel managed to lower himself down onto the ledge where the sheep was.

  ‘There, there, girl,’ he said, patting the sheep on the back. He gently eased his way round behind her and, after putting on his rubber gloves, had a feel to see what was going on.

  ‘Damn,’he said,‘it’s a big one,and I think there’s a smaller twin. Marianne, there’s some string in my backpack, can you get it for me?’

  Gabriel felt inside the sheep again and found the lamb’s front legs. He pulled them towards him, and looped the string around the legs. Gently he pulled the lamb out in time with the contractions. It slipped back for a moment, and he had to loop the string around its legs again. Eventually he could feel it coming and teased it out of the ewe. It flopped out onto the ground and didn’t move. Oh no. Please, not that. This happened sometimes, but not often. Gabriel grabbed some grass and tickled the lamb’s nose to try and get it to sneeze. Nothing.

  ‘I
s everything all right?’ Marianne climbed down beside him, looking worried.

  ‘Wait a sec,’ said Gabriel. He picked the lamb up by its hind legs, swinging it gently to try and get it to breathe. Still nothing.

  The ewe, sensing something was wrong, bleated her distress. Gabriel patted her again.

  ‘Sorry, old girl, there’s nothing I can do,’ Gabriel felt her pain. He hated losing lambs. The miracle of birth was one of the most precious moments of his job, and it was heartbreaking when it went wrong.

  ‘Oh, Gabriel,’ Marianne looked just as gutted as he was. He was shot through with gratitude that she seemed to understand so instinctively how painful it was. Eve never would have noticed at all.

  ‘It’s not over yet. There’s still another,’ he said, and went back to the sheep, who was moaning in pain. The second lamb was coming out legs first. Damn. He hoped they wouldn’t lose this one too.

  ‘It’s coming out backwards,’ said Gabriel. ‘Marianne, I may need some help. Can I brace myself against you? I can’t risk turning it around or I might strangle it with the cord.’

  Slowly but surely he lined the lamb’s legs up and, by dint of gentle rocking and timing the sheep’s contractions correctly, he eased the lamb out. He could feel Marianne’s breathing keeping pace with his own. As the lamb slid to the floor, he thought, Oh no, not again—but this time the lamb bleated loud and strong, and within minutes was sucking at his mother’s teat. Elation and relief surged through him and without thinking he flung his arms round Marianne.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Gabriel, ‘I couldn’t have done that without you.’

  ‘I’m just glad I was here,’ said Marianne, flushed and grinning. ‘I’ve never seen a lamb being born. That was magic.’

  Gabriel looked at her and grinned back. She was so pretty, he thought. It always took him by surprise when he was with her.

  ‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it?’ he said, but he wasn’t just thinking about the lamb. Sharing the experience with Marianne had been magical too. She hadn’t batted an eyelid, had reacted calmly in a way he could never have imagined Eve doing.

  On impulse he hugged her again.

  ‘You were brilliant,’ he said.

  Marianne whooped for joy.

  ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ she said. ‘It’s our special spring surprise.’

  They stood looking at the lamb, now suckling from its mother. A red kite soared high above them in the bright blue sky, a gentle breeze blew on the pink and purple heathers. Gabriel squeezed Marianne to him. For the first time in a very long while, he felt that all was right in the world.

  Part Two

  You Gave it Away

  Last Year

  December 23

  Gabriel could hear the bird’s frantic cheeping before he saw it. It was a bright, sunny day and he’d been walking in the woods. He frowned. Hadn’t it been snowing earlier?

  Suddenly the skies went grey and he was filled with an urgent sense of foreboding. The bird’s cries became more frequent and desperate. Gabriel knew it was vitally important that he reach the bird. Had to try and help. But couldn’t think why or how.

  ‘Daddy!’ A shout came from behind him. What was Stephen doing here? He was meant to be at home tucked up in bed. The anguish in his son’s voice tore at Gabriel’s heart. He should go to his son.

  But the bird…

  Why was the bird so important?

  Couldn’t he help them both?

  The bird was too far away. He could just about see it now, caught in barbed wire, but he couldn’t ignore his son’s cries, which were getting louder and more persistent.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’

  Gabriel ran in the direction of Stephen’s voice, but the wood seemed different today. Less open, more hostile. Dark twisted trees crouched menacingly above him, small spiteful bushes barred his way. Soon he was lost, and frantic. Where was he? Where was Stephen?

  ‘If you love something, let it go.’

  ‘It can’t be—’

  Eve was there in front of him, blocking the way towards Stephen.

  ‘Eve!’ he called out in anguish. She looked at him with such sadness in her eyes, and then she was gone. But there was Stephen, a small sobbing bundle calling his name…

  Gabriel woke with a jerk, blearily aware that he was cold and stiff. It was midnight, and his tumbler of whiskey was half full, though the bottle beside it was nearly empty. He had vague memories of sitting drinking it, wallowing in nostalgia, but had no idea how long he’d been asleep. He did know that he had a thumping head. The fire had gone out in the grate and through the gap in the curtains he could see it was still snowing. He should go to bed.

  ‘Daddy.’ A small shadow appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Stephen.’ Gabriel felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want his son to see him in this state. Stephen had seen enough that he shouldn’t have already.

  ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’said Stephen.‘I had a bad dream, and woke up and couldn’t find you.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’Gabriel felt worse than ever.‘I fell asleep down here. Come here.’

  Stephen climbed onto Gabriel’s lap and snuggled against him.

  ‘You’re cold,’ he said accusingly.

  ‘You’re warm,’said Gabriel.‘You can cuddle me and warm me up if you like.’ He held his son tight, and kissed him on the top of his head. Maybe Eve had been right. He couldn’t help her, but he could look after their son.

  ‘I wrote a note to Santa, Daddy,’ said Stephen.

  ‘You know he might not have enough Wiis to go round, don’t you?’ Gabriel always made a point of damping down Stephen’s wilder expectations at Christmas, which were usually, it had to be said, generated by random promises that Eve made and never kept, like the time she’d promised him a trip to Disneyland Paris that had never materialised.

  ‘I don’t want a Wii anymore,’ said Stephen solemnly. ‘There’s only one thing I want. Do you think if I’m really really good Santa will give it to me?’

  Gabriel’s heart sank.

  ‘It depends what it is,’ Gabriel said carefully.

  ‘Shh, it’s a secret,’ said Stephen. He held out a crumpled bit of paper. ‘Can I put this by the fireplace for Santa?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Gabriel. ‘Now really, it’s time you were back in bed.’

  Stephen put his letter by the grate and allowed himself to be carried back to bed.

  ‘I miss Mummy,’ he said, as Gabriel tucked him in.

  ‘I know,’ said Gabriel. ‘I do too.’

  Stephen looked at him expectantly. This was the point at which he should say something reassuring like, It’s okay, Mummy will be home soon, but Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to. Painful as this was for his son, how could he lie and promise something that wasn’t going to happen?

  With a heavy heart, Gabriel went back downstairs to tidy up. He paused in the lounge and picked up the letter Stephen had written.

  Dear Santa,

  I have been very god. Can my mummy plees come home for Xmas.

  Yours sinserly

  Stephen North

  Gabriel sat back down on the sofa and wept.

  The traffic on the North Circular was predictably dreadful. Magda’s flight was at three so Cat had planned to leave at ten, partly to give herself plenty of time, and partly to get rid of her sulky au pair at the earliest possible opportunity. She hadn’t, of course, factored in Magda’s ability to take three times as long as a normal person to get ready. By the time she had finally emerged from her bedroom with enough bags for half an army, it was nearly ten thirty. Although that still gave them over two hours, Cat wasn’t convinced that they’d make it through London in time, but she was getting to the point where she was past caring. At least Magda was out of her hair for Christmas.

  Magda had only been with them since September and she was already shaping up to be the worst au pair they’d ever had. If Catherine could see a way to reduce her workload slightly (unlikely since the
Happy Homemaker had taken over her life), she might think of dispensing with an au pair again. But she needed Magda, otherwise her working day would be reduced by at least three hours, and she couldn’t afford that at the moment.

  Nor, for that matter, could she afford to spend the best part of a precious day just before Christmas ferrying her rubbish au pair to the airport. Magda had originally planned to go to her boyfriend, Sergei, for Christmas Day, but that was before a frantic phone call from Latvia from which it transpired that her mother was desperately ill—dying even—and Magda needed to get home. Catherine hated herself for being dubious about how ill Magda’s mother really was, but she couldn’t help thinking it was incredibly convenient that this mystery illness had arrived just before Christmas, considering that Magda had spent months moaning that she didn’t have enough money to get home for the festive season. But, of course, this being a crisis, Cat had felt duty-bound to cough up the money for a plane ticket. She had done it with the strictest of provisos that on her return Magda would be repaying the money out of her wages, but Catherine had the feeling that somehow Magda would wriggle her way out of that one.

  Still, at least Magda had opted not to talk on the journey, preferring to sit in the back listening to the Cheeky Girls on her iPod. Mind you, the downside of that was that Cat had to listen to her slightly out-of-tune rendition. Too bloody right she was a cheeky girl.

  The traffic started moving again and Cat felt a bit more hopeful. Maybe she’d be back by lunchtime. She didn’t trust Noel to get through all the jobs she’d left for him. Magda’s bed had to be washed and aired ready for her mother-in-law’s arrival and the playroom desperately needed a tidy—the kids were all on tidywatch for that one, though if left to their own devices they would make things worse rather than better.