Last Christmas Page 11

  As she made her way on to the M4, Catherine was busy running through lists in her head: presents for mothers, check; presents for kids, mainly check, but Noel was going to have to go out on a frantic last-minute search to get a Baby Annabel who had mysteriously appeared at the eleventh hour on Ruby’s list (being the youngest she generally got hand-me-downs, and Cat felt for once she really ought to get a decent present that she actually wanted); present for the husband, uncheck. She’d drawn a complete blank this year for Noel. Apart from a book she knew he’d like, some socks and a couple of CDs, she’d barely got him anything. Which was most unlike her. But things had been so busy recently and, what with working more or less full time now, she’d had less time to shop than normal. Feeling incredibly guilty, she did a last-minute dash round the shops in Heathrow and came out with a leather manbag, which she wasn’t even sure Noel would like and which was far too expensive. But that’s what last-minute, desperate Christmas shopping always entailed—buying something hideously expensive that you’d see reduced the next week in the sales. She hoped he’d understand. After all, Christmas was for the kids.

  ‘Your mother doesn’t like me.’ Marianne was fixing in a pearl earring as she got ready in her cosy little cottage for the Nicholas family annual Christmas lunch, held at Hopesay Manor. This would be only the second time she’d been there, and she hadn’t met Luke’s grandfather since their embarrassing encounter with him in the summer. She’d endured enough of her prospective mother-in-law’s snobbiness over the last few months to be sure that she wasn’t being welcomed into the bosom of the family with open arms though.

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Luke was staring in the mirror as he adjusted his tie. ‘She thinks you’re great.’

  Marianne’s heart gave a little lurch, the way it always did when Luke was near. He was so gorgeous and he was hers. Sometimes she had to pinch herself. And sometimes the insecure part of her worried that it couldn’t last, and one day he would leave her. Despite Luke’s denials when she raised the subject, she couldn’t help the gnawing anxiety within her, which made her feel that she was way out of her depth in his family. After all, how many men really married women their mothers so obviously disapproved of?

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Marianne gave a twirl in the little velvet black dress she reserved for all occasions when she didn’t know what to wear. She felt rather self-conscious though. Was it too short for Hopesay Manor?

  ‘You look fine,’ said Luke, who seemed more interested in making sure his own appearance was okay.

  ‘You barely looked at me.’ Marianne gave him a friendly poke.

  ‘You look lovely,’ said Luke, kissing her on the top of the head. ‘Come on, we should go.’

  Marianne followed him into the car, her insecurities rising. She was nervous, couldn’t he see that? But it was almost as if he didn’t care.

  Things got worse when they arrived and she realised her clothes were all wrong. All the other women were wearing twinsets and pearls and she was in a cocktail dress. Luke’s mother didn’t say anything, but her eyebrows rose to the ceiling when she saw the length of Marianne’s skirt.

  ‘My skirt’s too short,’ she hissed at Luke.

  ‘Not for me,’ he said, giving her a lascivious look before diving off to talk with one of the directors of the family firm.

  Marianne was left standing on her own in the magnificent drawing room. There were about thirty members of the extended Nicholas clan and their friends, but not one of them came anywhere near her. She was too nervous to start a conversation with any of them, so instead concentrated on looking at the picture above the magnificent fireplace, which featured a rather dashing Cavalier on a horse.

  ‘My ancestor, another Ralph Nicholas.’ Luke’s grandfather was suddenly standing beside her with his twinkling smile.

  ‘I can see the family resemblance,’ said Marianne. It was uncanny how alike the man standing beside her was to this portrait of a man from four centuries ago. ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Oh, family legend has it that he helped Charles II escape, and in gratitude was knighted on his return.’

  ‘You certainly have an interesting family,’ said Marianne. ‘Mine is quite dull by comparison. Labourers and dock workers back to the time of the Conquest. I don’t think we even have a convict who went to Australia to liven things up.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so,’ said Ralph. ‘It’s rather a pity that my grandson can’t be persuaded to take more of an interest. But that’s the trouble with youth. It’s wasted on the young.’

  Marianne laughed. She was glad to see her future grandfather-in-law didn’t seem to have held the awkwardness of their initial encounter against her.

  ‘Now, we can’t have a lovely young thing like you standing all by yourself,’ continued Ralph. ‘Let me introduce you to the rest of the family.’

  He gently steered her in the direction of some younger cousins, who certainly seemed a lot less stuffy and pompous than the rest of the family; but Marianne soon discovered that an inability to talk about trust funds and holidays in Antigua were a bit of a conversational stumbling block, and she was immensely grateful when Luke announced it was time to leave.

  ‘Shall we go and have a festive drink in the pub?’ Marianne said when they got back, but Luke looked at her blankly.

  ‘Sorry, babe, I’ve still got some shit to sort out, no rest for the wicked and all that.’

  ‘Oh.’Marianne felt crestfallen.‘I will see you later though, won’t I?’

  Luke looked vague.

  ‘I’m not sure about tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you.’

  And with that he was gone, leaving Marianne on her own, kicking off her shoes, taking off her pearl earrings and feeling terribly alone.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, Dadd-eee!!! It’s nearly Christmas!!!’ Ruby was jumping on Noel’s bed with all the glee of a four-year-old two days before the big day. He would have liked to feel as enthusiastic as she did, but the stonking hangover he’d got from the previous night wasn’t helping any.

  He looked at the time. Damn. It was nearly eleven thirty. He hadn’t meant to go back to bed after Cat had left, but it had been so tempting. Cat had left him a depressingly daunting list of things to do and, knowing how exacting her standards were, he also knew he’d been set up for failure. Living with the sodding Happy Homemaker was a pain in the proverbial sometimes.

  Noel climbed out of bed, threw some clothes on and went downstairs to discover the lounge in chaos, with bowls of cereal littered about and three out of four of his children still in their pyjamas watching Harry Potter.

  ‘Come on you lot, up and out,’ he said. Despite a great deal of moaning, Noel eventually managed to get them into some semblance of order, and got a reasonably good system of teamwork going whereby the little ones searched in all the small gaps under sofas and behind cupboards for missing toys, while the older two sorted everything out into the relevant boxes.

  In the meantime, Noel tackled the huge pile of washing that had developed overnight apparently. What were they paying Magda for exactly? He even got the broom out and swept the kitchen, which was a first for him, but he knew Catherine was always moaning about how no one did it apart from her.

  ‘I’m hungry.’ James appeared at the kitchen door, looking hopeful.

  ‘You’re always hungry,’ said Noel. He’d only just started—if they stopped for lunch now he’d never be finished.

  ‘I’m starving,’ said Melanie, ‘when’s lunch?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Noel, ‘we’ve got too much to do.’

  ‘I’ll make everyone eggy bread if you like,’ offered Melanie.

  ‘Brilliant, yes. That would be great,’ said Noel. He carried a load of washing upstairs and dumped it in his and Cat’s bedroom and then gingerly went into Magda’s room to see how that was looking.

  For someone who seemed to have packed most of her possessions to take away with her, Magda’s room was surprisingly messy. Where did she get all this stuf
f ? Perhaps he should leave it to Cat, he felt like a dirty old man poking around in here, but his mum was due at four and they had at least to have got clean sheets on the bed.

  He stripped Magda’s bed, and picked up the three half-empty coffee cups on the floor. He decided to leave the lacy knickers and bra draped across the chair. Funny though, he could have sworn Cat had a set just the same.

  He marched downstairs feeling quite triumphant, only to discover the kitchen full of smoke and the children bickering.

  Cat, of course, chose that moment to arrive back from the airport and, blithely ignoring all the things he had been doing, immediately started haranguing him about the things he hadn’t.

  Christmas had barely begun and already he was feeling like Scrooge…

  This Year

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Oh God,’ said Marianne as she watched Diana Carew, bursting with self-importance, march down the aisle of the church to the altar to where her reception class were perched precariously, clutching their Easter bonnets, ready to burst into ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ when the vicar gave the nod. ‘I didn’t realise Diana ran the Easter Bonnet Parade too.’

  Pippa, who had helped walk the children up from the school, grimaced. ‘Hadn’t you worked out by now that Diana runs everything in Hope Christmas? Without her the place would fall apart. Don’t worry, she doesn’t get her hands on this service the way she does the Nativity. You won’t be seeing any elves and mice today.’

  Marianne stifled a giggle. The memory of last year’s Nativity in all its awfulness was still imprinted on her brain.

  ‘Are you sure she doesn’t want one of the children to dress up as the Easter Bunny?’ grinned Marianne.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ warned Pippa. ‘I swear she’s telepathic. She’ll probably suggest it at the next Parish Council.’

  But it turned out that Diana wasn’t interested in talking about the Easter service that the Hope Christmas primary school always put on in the last week of the Easter term.

  ‘Ah, Marianne, Philippa, I’m glad to get you two together, I just wanted to check that you were still all right for the Post Office trip next Wednesday? You weren’t at the last meeting so I wanted to make sure.’

  Marianne and Pippa both muttered excuses. Diana was incredibly good at wrong-footing people but, ignoring their discomfort, she went on, ‘We’re going to picket the main sorting office in London and then go on to Downing Street. Dear Ralph Nicholas has found us a TV journalist who’s going to film the whole thing. It should be terribly jolly. I do hope we’ll be seeing you both?’

  ‘School finishes on Tuesday,’ said Marianne, ‘so I should be able to get there. I’m going down south to visit my parents anyway.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Pippa. ‘It just depends on the children.’

  ‘Oh, bring them too,’ said Diana. ‘The more the merrier. Besides, children are such good PR!’

  She bustled off in a self-important manner to accost Miss Woods, who had hobbled her way down the church aisle and was grumpily looking for a seat, leaving Marianne and Pippa in fits of giggles, which they had to repress quickly as the reception class was getting restive.

  Marianne calmed them down and went through once more with the two eldest members of the class what they were going to say, while reassuring the youngest member, who was having the collywobbles. She turned to face the front as the organ started to play and the vicar came forward to welcome the congregation, mainly made up of parents, grandparents and siblings.

  She caught sight of Gabriel, who slipped in from the back and squashed his way onto the end of a pew. She smiled and he gave her a small nod of recognition, which filled her with an immediate warmth. She hadn’t seen him since the day they’d delivered the lamb together, but she was pleased to see him now. Seeing him in action on the hilltop had given her an increased respect for him. She was glad that they were becoming friends. In fact, for a moment on the hillside, when he’d hugged her after the lamb was born, she’d experienced a slight fluttering feeling as if their friendship could develop into something else. But she hadn’t heard from him since, so maybe she’d been imagining things…

  ‘Hi, Mum, I was just checking you’re still all right for Friday.’ Cat was in the kitchen leaning against a worktop and idly flicking through the calendar. Noel had been invited to a charity do at a posh hotel in London through work. He hadn’t been all that keen to go, but Cat, whose life of late seemed to alternate between working and picking up children from school, was determined she wasn’t going to miss out on the one chance she’d had in ages to wear a glamorous frock.

  ‘Friday?’ her mother sounded a little put out. ‘What’s happening on Friday?’

  ‘You’re babysitting for us,’ Cat said. ‘Remember? Noel and I are going to a charity ball.’

  ‘You are?’her mother sounded quite dumbfounded.‘Well, I’m sorry, darling, but I won’t be able to babysit on Friday. You know it’s my bridge evening.’

  ‘I thought that was next week,’ said Cat in exasperation.

  ‘No, it’s this week,’ said Mum firmly. ‘I know I told you.’

  ‘Like you knew you had to pick the kids up,’ muttered Cat crossly.

  ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘Nothing important,’ Cat lied, feeling immediately guilty. Cat was aware they relied on her mother to a huge degree. She couldn’t help it if she’d double-booked. Maybe it was Cat who’d got the day muddled up. She had so many balls to juggle, what with work, the kids’ activities and Noel’s increasingly frequent business trips to deal with the eco town in Shropshire, it was no wonder she dropped one occasionally.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry I can’t help, dear,’ continued her mother. ‘I could do next Friday though.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mum, I expect I can get Magda to babysit,’ said Cat, trying to repress the irritated thought that there was no bloody use her mum babysitting next Friday when the ball was this week.

  At that point Magda came in, sulkily bearing a pile of washing. She made a great show of pushing past Cat as she went to load the washing machine. As always when Cat was working at home she felt like a stranger in her own house. Magda had the knack of making it seem like she, Cat, was the intruder, and a martyred air that said, If you can find time to talk on the phone, surely you can find time to pick the children up. She’d been keeping up the sulks ever since Cat and Noel had dictated that under no circumstances was Sergei to move in with them.

  Cat put the phone down and offered Magda a placatory cup of coffee. Maybe that, and the offer of some extra cash in hand, would be enough to persuade her to babysit on Friday. Maybe.

  Gabriel squeezed into his pew with a sigh of relief. He’d just made it in time. The ewe he’d been lambing had conveniently delivered ten minutes before he was due to leave, and Sam, a local farmer, had offered to keep an eye on mother and baby while Gabriel went to Stephen’s Easter service. Stephen’s class were deemed too old for Easter bonnets, which was just as well as he’d reacted in horror when teased about it, but he’d been asked to sing a solo after the sermon so Gabriel, who felt ambivalent about going to church at the best of times, had felt duty-bound to turn up.

  The service commenced and proved to be Hope Christmas’ usual mix of the homely (the reception class duly made everyone go ‘aah’ when they got up and recited a prayer of their own—Gabriel grinned and gave Marianne the thumbs up when they sat down), the bizarre (Diana Carew bounding in as though she had allegedly nothing to do with proceedings and exhorting everyone to join with her in prayers for the mission in Africa where her sister was currently working—the vicar looked slightly startled, but covered it up admirably), and the dull. The vicar couldn’t help having a monotone, Gabriel supposed, but it was damn hard keeping awake when you’d been up all night lambing. And he couldn’t help suppressing the odd yawn as Richard (he never wanted you to call him anything else) earnestly exhorted him not to forget the importance of the Paschal season an
d the sacrifice of the Lamb of God. Gabriel smiled wryly to himself—everything seemed to be about lambs at the moment.

  Gabriel was counting down the minutes till Stephen’s party piece. He’d been surprised when Miss Peterson had sent a note home to say that Stephen had a solo, having had no idea that his son was even vaguely musical, but one of the very nice, if occasionally misguided things about the village school, was their belief that every child had a talent that should be encouraged. Having witnessed the humiliation of footballers with two left feet, and actors who could barely deliver a line, Gabriel wasn’t always sure of the wisdom of this approach. He just hoped Stephen wasn’t going to get too upset. He’d been in bits on Mother’s Day and refused to do a reading in assembly.

  Gabriel suddenly jerked awake, hoping no one had noticed him dozing off in the dying moments of Richard’s sermon, and realised that his son had made his way to the microphone at the front of the church. He swallowed nervously, but smiled encouragingly at Stephen, who stared past him in steely determination as if he couldn’t focus on anything but the back of the church. Stephen stood with his hands in his pockets looking as if he were about to do anything but sing. Gabriel longed to tell him not to slouch. He hoped this wasn’t going to be too dreadful. Marianne, meanwhile, had moved to the piano by the side of the altar and played a single note.

  Stephen took his hands out of his pockets, pulled himself straight, and launched into a hymn that Gabriel half remembered from childhood.

  ‘Now the green blade riseth from the buried grain,’ Stephen sang. Gabriel was aware his jaw had dropped to the floor. His son had the voice of an angel. How was it that he had never known? The purity of the notes he was hitting was astonishing. Gabriel listened with a lump in his throat, as his son sang poignantly of the wheat that lay in the dark earth and the love that springeth green. The courage of his boy. The joy of him. How could Eve have walked away from that? The hymn was religious, Gabriel knew, but all it reminded him of was the death of his marriage, and the pain his wife had caused them. Tears prickled his eyes as the hymn came to an end.