Last Christmas Read online

  ‘Now you’re talking,’ said Bev.

  Was she? Really? Cat for the life of her couldn’t see the appeal. The more Abi talked about the strange things she wanted to join up together, the more Cat had a vision of what Melanie was likely to wear to the next school disco—Meland all her friends tending to go for a mix-and-match approach. Still, maybe Abi was right and that’s what the fashion brigade were after these days. Presumably, being twenty-something, she was far more in the know than Cat.

  ‘We could do a piece on what celebs are getting up to at Christmas,’ said Rosie, the entertainment writer. ‘You know, Angelina and Brad are going for the traditional roasting chestnuts round the fire approach, you could do the same.’

  ‘Hmm, might work, depends on the calibre of the celebrities, I guess,’ said Bev.

  ‘What about an article on Christmas bling?’ offered Abi. ‘You know, Swarovksi crystals, black Christmas trees—that kind of thing.’

  ‘Didn’t you do something similar last year?’ Bev asked Cat.

  ‘I’m afraid I did,’ said Cat, still groaning at the memory of having to extol the virtues of glass Santas perched atop a snowy table decoration for the reasonable price of £40. ‘But I could do a credit crunch version if you like. Can’t afford Swarovski, but still want your Christmas to bling? How about a cheaper alternative?’

  ‘That’s a possibility, I suppose, depends how tacky cheap bling is,’ said Bev. ‘Keep working, people.’

  After an hour there were a dozen or more ideas on the table, but nobody felt inspired by any of them.

  ‘It all feels a bit old hat,’ said Bev, looking critically through the list. ‘We’ve got our usual fashion list, our usual celebs list, our usual what to buy your husband for Christmas list. It doesn’t feel fresh. I want fresh. And different. Cat. We haven’t heard much from you today. What’s the Happy Homemaker’s take on Christmas?’

  Cat thought back to her own last disastrous festive season and repressed a shudder. ‘You probably don’t want to know,’ she said. ‘Only, I was thinking…Nah. Forget it. It’s probably a stupid idea.’

  ‘Forget what?’

  ‘It’s just, well, I guess we all remember the Christmases of our childhood, and I don’t know…they seemed simpler somehow. Look at all the stuff we’ve got down here. Five different ways to stuff a turkey; fill your home with festive garlands; bring some sparkle to your Christmas table. Doesn’t it seem, I don’t know, a bit too much? Why do we need a brand new Christmas tablecloth and matching napkins each year?

  ‘Since when has Christmas been spoilt because we couldn’t get the requisite number of baubles on the tree? And do the kids really need every single electronic gizmo going? When I was a kid you were just as happy with a board game and a book and a satsuma in your stocking. Why does Christmas have to be such a frenzy of consumerism?

  ‘Couldn’t we turn it around and go for a simpler approach? What with us being now officially in recession and all, and people not having so much money to spend, why not get back to the true spirit of Christmas?’

  ‘What, like A Christmas Carol type of thing?’ smirked Rosie.

  ‘Well, yes, a bit, I suppose,’ said Cat. ‘I could do a piece on how to do Christmas lunch on a budget, Abi could do one on reviving fashions of yesteryear. Rosie, your celeb piece could be about celebs who keep it simple, maybe?’

  ‘It could work, I suppose,’ said Bev. ‘Yes, I’m beginning to like this. What else could we have?’

  ‘Could we give something away to the family who achieved the simplest Christmas?’ said Abi.

  ‘Or donate some money to charity?’ offered Clare, Bev’s assistant.

  ‘What about finding the perfect Nativity?’ said Cat. ‘God knows I’ve been to some dire ones in my time. Last year, all I wanted to hear was a decent carol. Maybe we could give a prize to the school or parish that comes up with the Nativity play that is closest to the spirit of the season?’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ said Bev. ‘We’ll put it on the front cover. Were you planning a break over the summer holiday? If so, cancel it!’

  ‘What do we want?’

  ‘To save our Post Office!’

  ‘When do we want it?’

  ‘Now!!!’

  Diana was doing such a good job directing the action, Marianne felt that the rest of them might as well not be there. She was darting about, geeing everyone up, thrusting leaflets into the faces of every beleaguered soul who was going in or out of Mount Pleasant. Unfortunately, though a representative had come out to politely take their petition, there hadn’t been too much interest. The TV crew that had pitched up as they arrived had interviewed Vera (much to Diana’s chagrin, Marianne had noticed with amusement), but had pushed off, having received a tip-off that someone famous was about to leave The Ivy.

  People were beginning to mill around aimlessly in the street, not knowing quite what to do.

  ‘I think we should chain ourselves to the Post Office building,’said Miss Woods.‘Someone must have a strawberry-thingy with them to send a message to that film crew, to get them back here again.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,’ began Vera tactfully, before being swept out of the way by a self-important Diana, her bosoms going before her like a magnificent ship, clearly enjoying herself hugely.

  ‘Right, come on now.’ Diana bustled up clapping her hands. ‘It’s time we were moving on. Next stop Downing Street.’

  Within seconds the crowd had been marshalled and cajoled into order. You had to hand it to Diana, Marianne thought. She and her enormous bosoms did manage to get things done.

  Marianne and Pippa made their way back to the coach, trying to stop the boys making bunny ears behind Diana, though they were both hard pressed not to dissolve into laughter.

  ‘How lovely to see you looking so cheerful,’ Ralph Nicholas said, as Marianne waited to board the bus.

  ‘Well, I can’t sit around feeling sorry for myself for the rest of my life, can I?’ replied Marianne.

  ‘True,’ nodded Ralph. ‘I’m pleased to see you getting so involved as well. Much better than festering at home.’

  ‘Well, it’s all down to you I’m here,’ said Marianne. ‘I’m glad you suggested it. And that you persuaded me to stay in Hope Christmas. It’s not quite how I planned things, but it’s not as bad as I feared.’

  ‘Ah well, as one door closes another one opens,’ said Ralph. ‘You never know what the future holds, which I always find rather exciting, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve never looked at it like that before,’ confessed Marianne, climbing on the bus. ‘But you know, I think you could be right.’

  Noel was sitting at his desk looking at the mountain of paperwork he had to deal with, contemplating whether he should commit a slow hara-kiri, when Julie came in looking sombre.

  ‘Gerry wants to see you,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’ Noel felt his stomach drop to his boots. The cull at GRB had been going on for months. He knew his days were numbered—surely the only reason that he hadn’t gone by now was his ability to cover up Matt’s inadequacies. Presumably now that the eco town was well under way, Matt was going to leave him out in the cold, and it was his turn to discover that GRB were going to dispense with his services. Feeling like a condemned man, and aware that ten pairs of eyes were fixed firmly on his back, Noel got up and took the long walk down the corridor towards Gerry Cowley’s office. Noel wasn’t given much to empathy, but he knew exactly what all the other buggers were thinking. First off it would be a gleam of sympathy for his plight, rapidly replaced with guilty relief that it wasn’t them having to face the music.

  He knocked on Gerry’s door, feeling like a guilty schoolboy. Crikey, he was forty-four. Far too old to be feeling like this.

  ‘Ah, Neil, sit down, sit down,’ Gerry said expansively as Noel walked in.

  ‘It’s Noel,’ said Noel. How many times over the years had he had to say that? All the bloody work he’d put into this company. All
those years. He was a good engineer. Damned good. One of the best GRB had ever had. And now he was being put on the scrap heap. He’d been in the same job for fifteen years. Noel had forgotten how to even look for a job. He didn’t even have a CV anymore. What on earth was he going to do?

  ‘As you know, these are difficult economical times,’ said Gerry.

  Noel felt sick. He’d allowed himself a brief flash of hope when Gerry had invited him to sit down—previous redundancy victims had all reported not being allowed to sit—but the mention of the economy was a sure sign of what was coming next.

  ‘And in these challenging times we all have to cut our cloth to fit,’ continued Gerry. He paused. Noel felt like screaming, this was excruciating. ‘We have to make sacrifices. Some of them painful.’

  Go on, Noel felt like saying, just spit it out, but he remained silent.

  ‘You’re our best engineer,’Gerry said abruptly. ‘And, from what young Matt says, you’re doing a grand job on the eco town.’

  Noel grimaced. Was this a good moment to say that the eco town was being built in exactly the wrong place? Five years ago when his stock was high at GRB, he could probably have got away with it, but now? He contented himself with a muttered thank you.

  ‘Well, I’d better not beat around the bush any longer,’ said Gerry. ‘While I appreciate everything you’ve done for the company…’

  ‘You’re going to have to let me go,’ finished Noel. Considering how many redundancies Gerry must have doled out this year, he seemed remarkably inept at dishing out the bad news.

  ‘Oh.’Gerry looked surprised.‘Well,I’m not exactly letting you go. But I have to be honest, Neil, we are going to have to make some sacrifices.’

  ‘What kind of sacrifices?’ muttered Noel.

  ‘The thing is, though, old boy,’ Gerry continued in a conspiratorial manner, as if he was doing Noel a huge favour, ‘you cost us too much money. Young Matt isn’t a patch on you as an engineer, but he’s much much cheaper. We don’t want to lose you, naturally, but in order to keep you, I’m afraid to say you’re going to have to take a substantial drop in salary.’

  Noel went cold all over.

  ‘How substantial?’ he said.

  Gerry named a figure that left Noel reeling. He resisted the impulse to say he was sorry that his mortgage company couldn’t generously offer to lower his mortgage to accommodate GRB’s needs, but then Gerry dangled the inevitable carrot.

  ‘Of course, if you do a good job on the eco town, things will probably look very different. Hopesay Holdings have considerable interests around the country and abroad. If this project goes well, GRB could be on to a winner. So, if you deliver, Neil, who knows—there might be a big fat Christmas bonus with your name on it.’

  Noel left Gerry’s office feeling curiously lightheaded. He’d spent months anticipating losing his job, but what Gerry was offering was worse. He didn’t even have golden handcuffs anymore, just very tarnished brass ones. The trouble was, with the job market so uncertain, Noel wasn’t in any position to bargain and Gerry knew it. The drop in salary couldn’t have come at a worse time for them, with their mortgage rate being fixed while interest rates were tumbling. But at least he was still in a job. For now at least.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, I think one of the ewes is ill.’ Stephen came bursting out of the sheep barn as Gabriel walked up with a barrel of food for his flock. He’d left Stephen there looking at the new lamb who’d been born last night. The mother had seemed a little feverish afterwards, but she had seemed more settled this morning. He hoped so. He couldn’t really afford the vet’s bill at the moment.

  Gabriel followed his son back into the barn, where he saw the mother lying listlessly on her side while her lamb forlornly tried to suckle from her. Gabriel leant down and stroked the sheep. ‘There there, old girl,’ he said, reaching for a pulse. It was faint, and unsteady. He had a bad feeling about this. Even if the mother recovered, she clearly couldn’t feed her lamb at the moment.

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ Stephen looked anxious.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gabriel was trying to dress it up as best he could, but growing up with animals had left Stephen no stranger to what could happen to them. There was no point pretending the ewe was going to get better if she wasn’t. He felt in his fleece for his mobile. ‘I need to call the vet.’

  ‘Daddy, look.’ Stephen grabbed Gabriel’s arm.

  Oh no.

  The sheep, who had been breathing erratically and in a laboured way, gave a sudden wheezy gasp, and then her head flopped to the floor. Her lamb, whose distinctive black tail made it instantly recognisable, baaed pitifully, its little wobbly legs making it seem more vulnerable than ever.

  ‘Is she…?’

  Gabriel put the phone down. He’d need to ring the vet later, but for now there was nothing more he could do for the ewe.

  ‘I’m sorry, Stephen, but I think she is,’ said Gabriel.

  Stephen flung himself into Gabriel’s arms, sobbing hysterically.

  ‘Woah.’ Gabriel held his son tight. How strange, when the boy scarcely mentioned his mother now, that watching the ewe die had caused so much distress.

  ‘Can we look after the lamb?’ Stephen raised a tearstained face to his father. ‘Can we?’

  Gabriel swallowed. Did he really want the lamb in the house? By rights, he should give it to the ewe who’d lost the twin, she had plenty of milk for both. He looked at Stephen’s expectant face. He couldn’t let him down.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ll fix a box for it in the kitchen, and you can look after it.’

  ‘Can I?’ Stephen’s face broke into a huge grin and he hugged his dad even harder. ‘Daddy, you’re the best.’

  Together they prepared a box of hay, and Gabriel gently lifted the lamb into it and carried it back to the house. They settled it down in the kitchen and Gabriel found a baby’s bottle he kept for the purpose. Soon Stephen was snuggled up on the sofa giving his new pet a bottle.

  ‘He’s just like me,’ Stephen declared, ‘he hasn’t got a mummy either. But I’m going to be his mummy now.’

  Gabriel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘You’re too thin.’ Marianne’s mother stood in the kitchen, looking her daughter up and down as if she were a prize cow. It was the only about the millionth time she’d said so. Marianne sighed. There was a reason she’d delayed coming home. And, after the first rapturous moments of welcome, the joy of a decent meal she hadn’t cooked herself, and the luxury of a bath in water that didn’t take three hours to heat up via the ancient immersion heater, she had quickly fallen back into suppressing her irritation at her mother’s fussing. She loved her mother dearly but, even though Marianne had left home years ago, somehow her mother still failed to recognise her daughter’s ability to be independent. Marianne had found her stifling growing up but, now she was an adult, she rebelled against it even more. She felt so hemmed in at her parents’ house, she longed for the freedom of the place she was beginning to think of as home. Back there, in a few short minutes, she could be striding out in the Shropshire hills, whereas here the only place to escape to was the drab local park, with its miserable patch of green, graffitied play area and confining borders. Marianne invariably came back from a stroll around the park feeling worse than when she’d left.

  ‘You’d hate it if she didn’t make a fuss,’ her father always said, and to a degree it was true. But Marianne felt faintly depressed by the thinly veiled disappointment as another chance for her mother to plan a wedding had disappeared, and the prospect of grandmotherhood seemed to be fast disappearing into the distance. Marianne’s only brother was a permanent student who was currently travelling the world finding himself. He was about as likely to procreate as an amoeba, though Marianne frequently teased him about leaving a girl behind in every port.

  ‘I’m not too thin, Mum,’ said Marianne. ‘I’ve put on half a stone since Christmas.’

  Mum sniff
ed, as if to say, likely story, and Marianne decided to ignore her. She knew her mother only wanted what was best for her, but it was hard enough coming to terms with a broken heart without feeling that her every emotion was being scrutinised by the maternal equivalent of Sherlock Holmes.

  ‘Leave the girl alone,’ said her dad, coming in from the shed. Lord knows what he did in there, but the shed, a shadowy feature of her childhood, seemed to have become his second home since retirement. ‘She looks perfectly healthy to me.’

  Marianne shot him a grateful look. Dad had always been her champion, and helped deflect delicate situations with her mother. He had far more empathy than his wife did, and always knew just when to speak and when to keep quiet, whereas Mum always seemed to feel a silence was there to be filled.

  ‘So, there’s no chance of you getting back with that chap?’ Mum said. Nothing like the direct approach.

  ‘No,’ said Marianne.‘I think there’s very little chance of that.’

  She thought back to the last few months without Luke. It had been hard but, to her surprise, she suddenly realised that she wasn’t now as heartbroken as she had been, and was thinking about him less and less.

  ‘Well,plenty more fish in the sea then,’said Mum.‘Anyone else in mind?’

  ‘Give over, Mum,’ protested Marianne. ‘I’ve only just come out of one relationship, I’m in no hurry to rush into another.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said her mother in disbelieving tones. ‘Well, at your age you should get on with it. No time to lose…’

  The more Marianne protested, the less her mother seemed to believe her.

  But then again, as Marianne went to load the dishwasher, and got a sudden flash of Gabriel’s face, perhaps it wasn’t altogether true…

  Cat was on her way home from work. She was running late and feeling guilty because she’d promised to get back and help Mel with some science homework that was proving tricky. Science was really Noel’s department, but more and more of late he’d been distracted and she’d found it really hard to get him to engage with the children. Cat suspected there was a problem at work, but Noel seemed very tight-lipped about whatever it was and she’d given up trying to prise the information out of him.