Last Christmas Page 14

  Mel had emailed Cat at work with a panicky ‘Mum, Homework. Tonight!!!!’ email at lunchtime, and Cat had promised she’d get home in time to help her. An increasingly common feature of their relationship of late, Cat wryly noted, was that Mel expected Cat to drop everything for her. Of course, Cat compounded things by always doing exactly that, but she could still remember the uncertainty of her first year at secondary school and didn’t want Mel to feel she couldn’t ask for help.

  The only trouble was, of course, her work life was rarely accommodating of her home life. Just as she was about to leave, one of the subs had queried a line in her last feature on ‘How to Detox Your House’, and Bev wanted her urgent opinion on the October cover layout, and suddenly it was gone six and she still hadn’t answered her emails. She rang Magda to say she was running late, and tried Noel who, judging by the list of missed calls, had been urgently trying to call her. But when she rang back all she got was a ‘This mobile is switched off ’message, and his work answerphone was proclaiming he was away from his desk. She was about to leave when her mobile rang. Mum. She’d better answer that.

  ‘Hello?’ Cat gathered her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the door. The phone went dead. Odd. She rang back and got a busy tone. Damn. On the way down the corridor she kept trying her mother, and continually got the engaged tone. Well, it can’t have been that urgent.

  The phone rang again as she headed down the road to the bus stop.

  ‘Catherine, there you are,’ her mother sounded a bit flustered. ‘I’ve been trying to ring you for hours.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to ring you,’ said Cat, ‘but you were engaged.’

  ‘Because I was trying to ring you,’ said her mother.

  This was going nowhere. ‘Was it anything in particular? I’m just on my way home.’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ said Mum. ‘Just. This is a bit daft. Can you remember? Do I need flour or eggs in an apple pie? I’ve got Auntie Eileen coming for dinner, and I keep looking at the ingredients and they both look wrong.’

  Cat frowned. Mum was the best cook Cat knew. How strange that she should have forgotten how to make pastry.

  ‘Well, I’ve never made pastry with eggs,’ she said, trying to laugh it off. ‘But you do need flour.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Well, of course you don’t use eggs in pastry. At least not if you’re making shortcrust pastry. Why on earth did you think you did?’

  It was on the tip of Cat’s tongue to make an acid remark about why her mother had bothered to ring her then, but she paused. There was something very odd about the tone in her mother’s voice. In fact, the whole conversation was very odd.

  ‘Mum, are you all right?’

  ‘Never better, dear,’ said her mother. ‘I will be seeing you all for lunch on Sunday, won’t I?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Cat.

  ‘Well, bye then,’ said her mother, and put the phone down, leaving Cat feeling unsettled. Was there something wrong with her mum? And if so, what, if anything, could she do about it?

  The last of the ewes had finally delivered her lambs, twins again, but this time neither had died. Gabriel settled mother and babes and made his way back to the kitchen where a sleepy Stephen was sitting with Pippa as he fed his pet one last time before bed.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Pippa nodded in the direction of the barn.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ said Gabriel. ‘And thanks for looking after Stephen, again. I feel bad about always asking you.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ said his cousin briskly. ‘That’s what families are for, to help each other out. Besides, if you hadn’t had the kids for me on Saturday, Dan and I wouldn’t have been able to get out for that meal.’

  ‘True.’ Gabriel felt he did little enough for his cousin, so the least he could manage was the occasional sleepover if it helped her and Dan out. ‘Stephen enjoyed it anyway, so it was no hardship.’

  ‘I’d best be off,’ said Pippa, gathering her things. ‘I don’t really like leaving Dan to deal with everyone at bedtime.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Gabriel. ‘Are you going to the Monday Muddle on Easter Monday?’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ grinned Pippa. ‘Besides, Diana Carew said I could have a stall to showcase our produce, didn’t Dan tell you?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Gabriel. ‘Mind you, I’ve been so busy recently everything’s going in one ear and out the other. Still, that’s great. The Monday Muddle’s a brilliant opportunity to show people what we can offer.’

  The Monday Muddle was an annual village event held every Easter Monday, along with a traditional market. Part football match, part free for all, the origins of it were lost way back in the mists of time, but everyone in the village turned out to see a football, reputedly two hundred years old and made of an old leather sack, alleged by some to have covered the head of a notorious highwayman, kicked high in the air. In the ensuing scrum, whoever picked up the ball was meant to run with it as fast as they could, without letting go, to the village pub. Miraculously, the event hadn’t yet been cancelled by the health and safety brigade, which was remarkable considering how many people ended up injured in the scrum. The person who managed it was then bought pints by everyone else for the rest of the day. All the village men were supposed to take part, but Gabriel often declined.

  ‘Daddy, you are going to go in for it this year, aren’t you?’

  Gabriel groaned. Stephen had pressured him into going in for it last year, and he had reluctantly agreed. He had never got over the trauma of doing the event in his teens when he’d been a total lightweight and Dan and all his cronies had inevitably sat on him. Dan in fact was still the undisputed champion of the event, being a broad six-foot-plus rugby player. Gabriel, with his wiry build, was fine on speed, but lacked the brute strength to win at such a physical event.

  ‘No,’ he said.‘You know I hate the Monday Muddle. Besides, Uncle Dan will beat me hands down, don’t you think?’

  ‘He might not,’ said Stephen. ‘You don’t know if you don’t try, do you?’

  Raising his eyebrows at Pippa at having one of his constant sayings to his son parroted back at him, Gabriel saw his cousin to the door.

  ‘Go on, give it a try,’ she urged. ‘You never know, you might even enjoy it.’

  ‘I think you can safely say I won’t,’ said Gabriel, ‘but just for you, I’ll think about it.’

  ‘I think Marianne’s coming back for it too,’ Pippa added slyly.

  Gabriel’s heart gave an unexpected leap at the thought of Marianne being there. ‘I thought Marianne was away for the whole fortnight?’

  ‘She was supposed to be,’ said Pippa, ‘but she’s just texted me to say she’s going mad at home, so I rang her and suggested she came back for Monday. She thought it might make the perfect excuse for coming back.’

  ‘Oh right,’ said Gabriel. Now he really didn’t want to take part. The last person he wanted to see him making a fool of himself was Marianne.

  ‘So now you have to take part, don’t you?’ teased Pippa.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Gabriel.

  ‘Well, I told Marianne you would be,’ said Pippa. ‘And she said she couldn’t wait.’

  ‘Pippa,I could kill you sometimes,’sighed Gabriel.‘Don’t you ever stop interfering?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Pippa. ‘But it’s for your own good, so one day you’ll thank me.’

  The pub was heaving. Noel was incredibly touched by how many of his fellow GRB sufferers were prepared to come along to cheer him up once the news spread about his change of circumstances. Feeling that he was in the worst of all possible worlds, Noel had seen no other option than to go to the pub. He’d rung Cat to say he’d be late, but kept getting her work answerphone and her mobile was switched off. So he rang Magda, who sounded utterly disinterested but at least promised to pass the message on to Cat. He tried Cat one last time. Still no answer. Leaving a message to say he was going
to the pub, but not feeling able to say why, he snapped his phone shut and went to the bar and ordered another pint.

  Four pints and no food later, Noel was feeling more than a little unsteady on his feet. He really should go home.

  ‘Are you coming to eat?’ Julie appeared by his side with a couple of her cronies.

  ‘I think I’d better be off,’ said Noel, aware that he was swaying and also aware that he was probably looking like an undignified, middle-aged twat.

  ‘No, come with us,’ commanded Julie, and suddenly he found himself swept up in a wave of youth, beauty and drunken enthusiasm. He tried to ring Cat again, but her mobile was still switched off, and he was so useless at texting sober he couldn’t even begin to think about it drunk.

  Hours passed and suddenly it was midnight and he was sitting dishevelled in a dingy nightclub, his tie undone, feeling a complete wreck. Really, it was time to go home.

  ‘Come on, come and dance.’ Julie was dragging him to the dance floor.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ he protested feebly.

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ said Julie. ‘Come on, we’re having fun.’

  Fun. Yes. Noel remembered that. Last time he’d had any fun had been sometime in the Dark Ages.

  He let himself go, for a minute forgetting all his troubles under the bright light dazzling his eyes, finding a strange drunken rhythm to the thumping rap of the dance anthem blaring out from the floor. He moved closer and closer to Julie. She was exceptionally pretty. And she’d always been so nice to him…

  ‘I really like you, you know,’ Julie shouted in his ear.

  ‘I really like you too,’ said Noel. He looked down at her. Julie. Julie, his sexy, sweet little secretary. She looked at him. His mouth suddenly went dry and then they were kissing, passionately, stupidly, frantically, as if there was no one left on earth to kiss.

  Oh dear God, what was he doing?

  Noel broke away in confusion.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Julie, looking at him lasciviously.

  Oh my God. Time to go. Now.

  ‘Julie, you’re lovely, but I can’t,’ Noel said. ‘Sorry. Really I am. I didn’t mean to be such a shit.’

  He fled the dance floor, and ran out into the cold air. He turned his mobile on. Five missed calls from Cat. He leant against the wall of the nightclub gulping in the cool night air. What on earth had he done?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Catherine sat staring out into the dark garden, sipping a glass of wine and feeling furious. Noel had promised to come home early. It was a bank holiday. They had planned a family day out the next day. He was clearly in the pub because his mobile had been switched off all evening. She’d given up trying to reach it. The kids had all been riotous when she got home, Magda having apparently given them something with thousands of E-numbers for tea. Mel had forgotten all about the important science project by the time Cat had got in; instead, she was in floods of tears because she’d fallen out with her best friend on MSN. Despite Cat’s dire warnings about being careful in online dealings, Mel still hadn’t quite worked out that MSN wasn’t the best place for sorting out disputes. The resulting hysterics had taken an hour to calm down, by which time it was too late to put Ruby in the bath, and James and Paige had managed to cause chaos in the lounge by setting up a complicated Dr Who game, which for some reason had required all of Cat’s nicest, plumpest, whitest cushions being stuck end to end on the floor. By the time it had all been tidied away and the children chased to bed, it was gone nine.

  She glanced at her watch. It was midnight already. Should she go to bed or wait up for him? It was ages since Noel had stayed out so late. And after last Christmas, when she’d made the mistake of confronting him about his late nights in the pub and been given short shrift, Cat was reluctant to give him a hard time. But really she was furious. Why was it okay for him to go out and have a drink with his mates, without a thought for her or the family, when Cat getting out for the evening involved military-style precision planning? And invariably, if she had managed to organise a night out, Noel would always swan in late, as if to make a point about her abandoning her duties for the evening. Long-held resentments bubbled under the surface. This was no good. She was feeling so cross now they’d be bound to have a huge row when he did get home.

  Cat finished her drink, washed her glass up, and made her way up to bed. She was halfway up the stairs, when she heard Noel fumbling with the key in the lock.

  She went down to open the front door.

  ‘There’s no need to wait up for me, you know.’ Noel’s tone was belligerent.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ said Cat, trying not to rise to it. ‘I was on my way to bed.’

  ‘Oh.’ Noel swayed in the hall. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Late,’ said Cat. ‘You could have rung me.’

  ‘I did,’ said Noel. ‘Your phone was switched off.’

  ‘That was earlier,’said Cat.‘Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘Well, that’s bloody nice,’ said Noel. ‘How about a kiss when I come through the door?’

  ‘Noel, it’s nearly 1 am, I’m really knackered, you’re really drunk. I think it’s time for bed.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘No,’ said Cat. ‘I meant bed as in sleep.’

  ‘Sleep? Sleep?’ Noel said. ‘How can you talk about going to sleep?’

  ‘Quite easily,’ said Cat, turning back up the stairs. ‘I’m going to bed, you can do what you like.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right, walk away,’ Noel spat out with sudden venom, and Cat turned and stared at him in fury.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she said.

  ‘You, you’re not even interested in me anymore,’ said Noel.

  ‘That’s not true,’ protested Cat.

  ‘When was the last time we had sex, then?’ said Noel.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Cat, ‘the other week, probably.’

  ‘Two weeks ago,’ said Noel. ‘That’s when it was.’

  Cat had had enough. ‘Are you keeping some kind of record?’she said incredulously.‘For heaven’s sake,Noel, just grow up, will you?’

  She was shouting now, much louder than she intended. But really, he was the sodding limit.

  ‘You just don’t fancy me anymore, do you? Why don’t you say it?’ Noel had gone from angry to bitter in a heartbeat.

  ‘Where the hell did that come from?’ asked Cat in exasperation. ‘There’s no point talking to you when you’re like this. I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Well it’s true,’ shouted Noel after her.

  ‘Oh, save it,’ said Cat, storming back upstairs. She was damned if she was going to sleep with him tonight. He could spend the night in the spare room.

  ‘Can you two keep it down?’ Mel appeared, yawning sleepily on the stairs.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Cat. ‘Dad and I were just going to bed.’

  She went into her bedroom and turned on the light. What was wrong with Noel? Why did he insist on behaving so badly? They had never really talked over what had happened at Christmas, and now here they were again, back in the same mess as before. What on earth was going to happen to them?

  Marianne sat in a crowded pub with her oldest school friends, Lisa and Carly, whom she’d met to swap stories about old times and catch up on the new. The trouble was, after a perfunctory conversation about what had gone wrong in Marianne’s love life, Lisa and Carly seemed utterly uninterested in anything else she had to say now she no longer had a rich boyfriend. Neither of them was exactly the country type and they couldn’t understand why Marianne was still holed up in ‘the back of beyond’, as Lisa put it. In fact, when Marianne thought about it, they’d never been very interested in her really. Lisa with her big City job and succession of fund-manager boyfriends had always been dismissive of Marianne’s life choices. ‘What do you want to teach for?’ she’d gasped in horror. ‘Everyone knows teachers are poor.’ Carly’s
job as a gossip girl about town was enough to keep her firmly wedded to the bright lights,big city.‘While there are parties to crash and drinks to blag, I’m your woman,’ she was fond of saying. She, too, had barely asked about Marianne’s life in Hope Christmas.

  ‘I helped deliver a lamb, you know,’ Marianne butted in on one of Lisa’s interminable stories about what the recession was going to mean for her. (If you hadn’t racked up so much debt on your three credit cards it mightn’t be such a disaster, Marianne felt like cattily saying.)

  ‘What on earth for?’ Lisa looked incredulous. ‘That sounds disgusting.’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ said Marianne. ‘It was rather wonderful actually. I met a friend of mine when I was out walking. He needed help with one of his ewes, and so I helped deliver the baby. Well, it was two babies, but one of them died.’

  ‘You know a shepherd?’ Carly broke off into peals of laughter.

  ‘I bet he’s called Gabriel,’ said Lisa. ‘Remember how we all fancied Gabriel Oak when we saw Far from the Madding Crowd at school?’

  ‘He is actually,’ said Marianne, to hoots of laughter from her friends. ‘Well, not a shepherd, but he does farm sheep.’

  ‘Marianne, you never cease to amaze me,’ said Carly. ‘You’ll be going all native on us next.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’ said Marianne. ‘Gabriel’s nice. Living in the country’s nice. I like it.’

  ‘Don’t you miss the town at all?’ Lisa was utterly incredulous.

  ‘Not much,’ admitted Marianne. ‘If anything, there I feel like I’ve come home.’

  And, with a jolt, she realised it was true. Despite everything that had happened with Luke, she felt more at home in Hope Christmas than she’d ever felt anywhere in her life before. Marianne was overcome with an overwhelming rush of homesickness. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to go back.