Last Christmas Page 30

  ‘I’ve got some really good news about that,’ Marianne stood up waving an envelope she’d brought with her. She came to the front of the room. ‘I believe some of you already know this, but I entered Hope Christmas for a competition to find the perfect Nativity in Happy Homes. And, I found out today that, incredibly, we’ve won. So this Christmas, a team from the magazine are coming up to photograph the Nativity, and write a feature on us. We may even get on TV. But the best bit is the prize money is ten thousand pounds, which I’m sure you’ll agree will help the campaign enormously.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ said Vera, leading the applause. ‘I think I speak for us all when I say how grateful we are to you, Marianne.’

  ‘Miss Woods was a great help,’ said Marianne, acknowledging the old school teacher who nodded graciously, ‘and without Sir Ralph promising to let us have the chapel at Hopesay, I’m not sure we would have won it.’

  ‘I hope you are going to direct it yourself,’ said Miss Woods, ‘as Diana Carew sadly won’t be able to help this year.’

  Diana Carew was still out of action as her shoulder had been dislocated in the accident. Even she had realised that it was going to be impossible for her to run things this year, and she was grumpily ensconced at home discovering the wonders of the shopping channel.

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Marianne. She looked around her at the excited, enthusiastic faces. Luke didn’t understand anything about the community here. No wonder his houses hadn’t sold. People didn’t want to live a lifestyle, they wanted to live a life. For the very first time since he left her, Marianne felt truly glad he had.

  ‘Each of our guests is treated to the best care possible,’ the smartly dressed owner of the Marchmont Rest Home was saying as she showed Cat and Noel around. The place was much brighter than Cat had imagined, and a huge step up from the previous two places they’d looked at, neither of which was fit for a dog to live in, let alone her mother. The Marchmont was light and airy, the rooms luxurious, the carpets soft and springy.

  ‘Mum will feel like she’s staying in a hotel here,’ said Cat. She still felt terrible about what she was doing, but both Noel and Angela had been very firm with her, pointing out the destructive effect Mum’s presence was having on their family life. Cat had tried to talk to the children about it and, while they all understood that Granny Dreamboat was very ill, none of them could cope with the fact that their beloved granny kept forgetting who they were, or that she was so fretful and tetchy a lot of the time. Paige and James had been particularly difficult about it and Ruby, being so little, didn’t quite understand what was happening. It was only Mel, whom Cat had thought would find it harder, who seemed to have grasped the complexity of the situation with a maturity of which Cat was incredibly proud. She was becoming a great help with Mum, bringing her a cup of tea in the mornings, patiently going over the same crossword puzzle in the evenings. But even so, Cat could see how upsetting it was for them all.

  But the clincher had been the conversation she and Mum had had after Cat had screamed at her in such an unseemly fashion. Immediately after the incident, Mum appeared to have forgotten all about it. But a day or so later, she’d suddenly said, as Cat was putting her to bed, ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, for being such a burden to you.’

  Cat sat on the edge of the bed and held her mother’s hands. When had her skin become so paper-thin?

  ‘Mum, you could never be a burden,’ she protested. ‘I’m so sorry that I’m not as tolerant as I should be.’

  Mum squeezed Cat’s hands and said, ‘Cat. I know what I am becoming. I know how I can be. It frightens me.’

  ‘Which is why I want to look after you,’ said Cat.

  ‘And why you’ll end up hating and resenting me,’ said Mum. ‘I won’t let you put yourself through this anymore. I want you to promise me that you will sell my house and find a home for me. I’m not going to be able to make that decision soon, so you have to make it for me.’

  ‘Don’t,’ said Cat through her tears.

  ‘Cat, you know it’s what has to happen,’ said Mum. ‘We’ll manage because we must.’

  They’d both cried then, Mum for the loss of independence, Cat for the loss of her mum.

  Since that moment, there had been precious few times when Mum had shown such lucidity, and Cat knew that she couldn’t put it off any longer. By dint of dropping the price to suit market conditions, her family home had sold so quickly Cat had had to come to terms with yet another blow to her bruised and battered heart.

  Clearing out the house had been the worst thing she’d ever had to do. She and Noel had only had a week to pack things up, and in the end were reduced to shoving things in boxes without paying any attention to what was there. In the confusion, Cat belatedly realised she’d accidentally thrown out her mother’s favourite earrings, and a family Bible belonging to her grandmother. But the worst of it was the systematic stripping down of everything that she’d known since childhood, of everything that had made her mother the person she was. Somehow it diminished Mum in a way. Apart from the piano on which Cat had bashed out ‘Chopsticks’ as a child, her mother’s battered old furniture had gone to the charity shop; the bed that Cat was born in, so battered and old, had ended up on a skip; the grandfather clock just wouldn’t fit in anywhere and had to go to an antiques shop; while the new owners had carelessly and unwittingly poured hot coals on Cat’s head by casually talking about getting rid of the Aga (‘So 90s,’ they’d declared), and putting in a shiny new stainless steel kitchen. Cat knew it had to happen but, as a symbol of the loss of all her memories, it seemed the most potent. Now when she thought of her childhood home, it was tainted with the memory of the way she’d last seen it, stripped bare, and denuded of all comfort.

  But at least now they had the money to look after Mum and, of all the homes they’d looked at, the Marchmont was certainly the best they’d seen.

  ‘What do you think?’ She was pulled out of her reverie to discover that she was being required to give an opinion. Even now, a part of her wanted there to be another way to solve this. She looked at Noel, who gave her a small grin and the thumbs up.

  ‘You don’t have to make a decision straight away,’ the owner was saying, ‘your mother could come and try it out for a day, see how you all feel.’

  Taking a deep breath, Cat said, ‘I think that would be perfect. When can we arrange for Mum to come for a visit?’

  Gabriel was coming out of the solicitor’s office, one of the few buildings on the High Street not affected by the floods. He’d been so angry with Eve that, the day after she’d told Stephen what was happening, he’d immediately booked an appointment with a solicitor. He should have done it months ago, when Eve first left, to consolidate their position, but there was something about his relationship with Eve that had the effect of stultifying him, making it impossible for him to act. With the benefit of distance and hindsight, he was beginning to see how bad they’d both been for each other.

  It would be better with Marianne, a voice whispered in his head. Gabriel knew he could have a thoroughly normal relationship with Marianne, had even dared hope that in time Stephen might come round and they could make a fist of a proper family life. But now? He stopped and sighed. Stephen was speaking to him again, but had retreated somewhere deep inside himself. He appeared to have forgiven Eve too and seemed to enjoy the time he spent with her at the cottage she was renting. Gabriel had offered to pay but she declined, making him wonder how she could afford it. True she’d mentioned a job in London, but Eve had been in Hope Christmas a month now, and there was no sign that she was going back to work anytime soon.

  Gabriel’s solicitor had been confident that he would win custody. ‘With your wife’s history of mental illness, not to mention the abandonment issue, we have a very strong case,’ the lawyer had advised. ‘Are you ready to start proceedings?’

  Gabriel couldn’t give him an answer. Eve’s solicitor hadn’t written the letter she’d been promising him was on its way
. It was like the sword of Damocles hanging over his head. She seemed to him increasingly skittish and erratic, and he was on the verge of suggesting she go back to their doctor, but now he felt in some odd limbo, where he felt he couldn’t be so involved.

  ‘Penny for them.’ As he walked down the High Street, Marianne was walking up, laden with books. Her eyes were sparkling, her long dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, the cold autumnal air giving her cheeks a healthy glow. It had been weeks since he’d seen her. And suddenly she was there, lovely and natural, and for the moment completely unattainable.

  ‘Marianne,’ Gabriel felt suddenly awkward; she must think he’d totally lost interest in her. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.’

  ‘I know it’s been tough,’ Marianne’s ready sympathy was like a balm to his battered soul, but she looked as awkward as he felt. ‘Pippa told me what’s been happening. Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Gabriel. ‘But thanks.’

  There was an uneasy pause, then he said, ‘You’ve got a lot of books there. I didn’t realise teaching reception was so academic.’

  ‘It’s not,’ laughed Marianne, slightly more at her ease. ‘No, these are research. Courtesy of Miss Woods.’

  ‘Research?’ Gabriel was puzzled. He’d completely lost touch with what was happening in Hope Christmas over the last few weeks.

  ‘Didn’t you hear? We’ve won a competition to put on the perfect Nativity, and yours truly is running the show.’

  ‘I hope you’re going to keep the elves,’ said Gabriel, his mood lightening.

  ‘Of course,’ said Marianne mock seriously. She paused and then said: ‘I realise this might not be the best time to ask this, but do you think Stephen would like to do a solo? He has such a lovely voice, and I thought he’d be perfect to sing “Balulalow”.’

  Gabriel was suddenly hit by a pain so intense it nearly stopped him breathing. Stephen might not even be with him at Christmas. Besides, he was so fragile, it didn’t seem right to put him through that, even if he were here.

  ‘Now’s not the best time,’ said Gabriel. ‘Sorry, the answer’s no.’

  ‘But—’ Marianne started to protest.

  ‘I said no,’ said Gabriel. ‘Stephen has enough to cope with.’

  ‘It might help,’said Marianne,‘give him some confidence. You saw how much he enjoyed it at Easter.’

  ‘Marianne, I know you want to help,’ said Gabriel stiffly. ‘But I can assure you I know what is best for my son. And right now singing in your Nativity isn’t. Please let’s leave it at that.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Marianne equally stiffly. ‘But just suppose you’re wrong. Stephen has a rare talent. I think it should be encouraged, not stif led.’

  ‘Like I said, he’s my son,’ said Gabriel. ‘Don’t ask me again.’

  ‘I think you’re being very unfair,’ said Marianne, but Gabriel didn’t answer, and strode off down the hill, unable to articulate further the rage that was coursing through him, but dimly aware that somehow he’d managed to direct it at entirely the wrong person.

  Noel looked at his email inbox. Another slew of rejections to match the ones that seemed to be dropping through his letterbox at a phenomenal rate. He couldn’t imagine that he would ever get another job again. Maybe he could commute to Hope Christmas and back.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Cat had come in silently. She’d barely spoken all the way back from the visit to the care home. Noel didn’t blame her. It was nice as these places go but, however the dedicated staff dressed it up, it was an institution and, judging by the majority of its inmates who had sat rocking silently in chairs in front of the TV, the residents were swiftly institutionalised. It wasn’t a fate he’d wish on anyone, not even his mother in her worst moments. Although miraculously of late she seemed to be a lot more helpful than she’d ever been, even turning up today to make sure they could go out together to visit the care home. Cat had told him what she’d said about not helping out before, and for once Noel was prepared to admit that maybe he too had got it wrong, and he’d actually managed to tell her so.

  ‘That’s all in the past,’ his mother had said to his astonishment. ‘For now, Cat needs you,’ she’d admonished, and he knew she was right. Cat did need him. Cat was so gorgeous and vivacious, Noel had always felt slightly amazed he’d caught her eye all those years ago when they’d first got together, and now, with his confidence at rock bottom, he wasn’t sure that he could keep it.

  ‘Tea would be great,’ said Noel. ‘How’s your mum?’

  ‘Asleep,’ said Cat with a sigh. She looked tired and worn out.

  ‘Fancy going out tonight?’ he said. ‘I mean, my mum’s here, we could manage a curry or something.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Cat, ‘but I’m so behind. I’ve got to write up some Christmas recipes for Happy Homes, and work on the book a bit more. My agent thinks she’s got someone interested, and she’s pushing me to finish it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Noel was absurdly disappointed. He knew—thought he knew—she wasn’t rejecting him, but she had a way of looking straight through him, as if he wasn’t there. It was hard not to take it personally.

  ‘Sorry, Noel,’ she said. ‘I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything, what with Mum and you not working. I haven’t even started on Christmas yet. Normally I’ve bought half the presents by October. I just somehow don’t have the energy for it this year.’

  Noel felt a little bit resentful. Cat had a knack of making him feel like that. What about me? He wanted to say, can’t you see beyond yourself to me?

  ‘You have had a lot on your plate,’ Noel said. ‘Why don’t you let me help you? After all, I don’t have anything else to do with my time.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can trust you with the turkey,’ Cat said lightly, but it made Noel bristle.

  ‘I’m not a complete idiot, you know,’ he snapped.

  ‘I never said you were,’ said Cat, looking shocked at the venom in his tone.

  ‘Stop treating me like one, then,’ said Noel. ‘I am capable of ordering a turkey. You just need to learn to delegate more.’

  Cat looked as if she might spit something back, but then thought better of it.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry. I am going to need your help. By the looks of things I’m going to have to be up in Hope Christmas on Christmas Eve for this wretched photo shoot. I wish I’d never suggested a sodding Nativity competition.’

  ‘You just leave everything to me,’ said Noel, a sudden brilliant thought burgeoning in his mind. ‘I think, if you let me, I could sort Christmas out very well indeed.’

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Hello, is that the Woodcote Lodge Hotel?’ Noel was enjoying a certain amount of secret squirrelness about his plans for Christmas. It was going to be expensive, he knew, but GRB had at least sorted out a reasonable redundancy package for him and, despite their stretched finances, he was sick to death of being careful. For once he was going to throw caution to the winds. They might not get a chance like this again and, with Cat working herself to the bone at the moment, and all the worry she’d had with her mum, Noel didn’t want her to have to think about Christmas at all. So he’d found some hotels offering festive deals in the Hope Christmas area and, to his amazement, the place wasn’t booked up.

  ‘Lost a lot of custom because of the f lood, see,’ the warm Shropshire burr on the other end of the phone informed him, reminding Noel again that he’d love to make his home in such a comforting place. If only they hadn’t got Cat’s mum ensconced in the Marchmont. There was no way Cat would leave London now. She still felt so guilty about her mother, which was ridiculous as they’d done everything they could for her. She didn’t even recognise them anymore. Noel knew it was wrong to think it, but he couldn’t help wondering if it would matter if they left. Louise was lost in her own world anyway. They knew she was cared for—would she actually notice they’d gone?

  But he couldn’t do that to Cat. It
would break her heart.

  Noel made the booking for all of them to arrive on Christmas Eve and stay for the whole week. They all deserved a holiday. He wasn’t sure Cat would go for leaving her mother that long, but he’d had a long chat to the woman who ran the Marchmont and she’d been most insistent that Cat took a break.

  ‘Families always feel guilty,’ she said, ‘but you can’t look after people if your own batteries aren’t recharged. Go on, have a good time and we’ll make sure that your mother-in-law will have the best Christmas she’s ever had.’

  Noel doubted that somehow, thinking back to the first Christmases when he and Cat had been married and spending their time in between the two sets of parents. In the end, Cat had felt so guilty about her mother being on her own, they used the excuse of a new baby and a bigger house to have everyone to them. They had been happy years when the children had been small and cuddly and not older and spiky, when he’d felt confident in his job and his marriage. He stared out the window at the greying November sky. Things seemed to have changed so much since then. He still had Cat, it was true, although he felt he only got half of her most of the time. And the children were wonderful, he had to remember that. But he’d lost his job, his father, and now he was losing his wonderful mother-in-law.He felt more weighed down by cares and responsibilities than ever before in his whole life and where once the future had looked rosy, now it simply looked bleak.

  This would never do. He turned over the card that Ralph Nicholas had given him all those months ago. Dammit, he would try to ring him again. Maybe there was some way he could do the job and commute. What was the worst that could happen? Ralph could only say no.

  Marianne was making a snowman frieze with a bunch of reception children, and trying not to think too much about Gabriel. She hadn’t seen him since their disastrous meeting on the High Street and, although she understood that his life was peculiarly difficult right now, she was frustrated at his inability to see that Stephen might be helped by singing in the play. His teachers reported that Stephen, never an outgoing child, was growing more and more withdrawn. Marianne’s heart went out to him. It must be so difficult for a child to be caught up in things he didn’t understand. And, despite being still cross with Gabriel, her heart went out to him too. Pippa reported that he wasn’t eating or sleeping, and that the stress of the situation was making him ratty as hell. Marianne had thought on so many occasions that she should go and comfort him, but didn’t know if she’d be welcome.