Coming Home For Christmas Page 4

  The results had been worth it. Cat loved the time she was spending with Lou Lou, and Mel who was working really hard for her exams was predicted good grades. She wanted to go into journalism, and had found a course she was interested in at Birmingham so she could study and live at home. Which was wonderful, but Cat felt with some degree of certainty, that Granny was going to be called on even more often than before.

  And that was fine, of course it was.

  ‘Don’t be so negative,’ Cat chided herself, it was just that at a time in her life when she’d hoped to have a lessening of responsibilities, she felt that she was getting bogged down in even more. And it was hard not to feel a little resentful. Was life never going to get easy?

  Since Christmas, Angela, who up until now had always been very independent, seemed to need more of their help, which was worrying. It only seemed like five minutes since Cat’s own mum had been ill, and Angela had quietly stepped into the breach and been immensely supportive. Cat wasn’t ready to lose her too.

  ‘Banish that thought from your head, right now, Cat,’ she muttered, concentrating instead on trying to make Lou Lou laugh some more, which was much more cheering. ‘And on the bright side, your clever mummy has been earning some money,’ she added.

  ‘Mama, mama,’ agreed Lou Lou, giggling as Cat tickled her tummy.

  Mel had managed to get herself a book deal via her anonymous blog, Mum Too Young. She’d written a quirky, funny take on life as a teenage mum, complete with cartoons, which she’d self-published. It had been a great hit, and Mel had since been taken on by a publisher. She’d retained her anonymity, ‘I just don’t want to start sixth form college with baggage,’ she’d said, ‘I want to be the same as everyone else,’ – which made Cat want to weep for her daughter. She had given up so much by having Lou Lou so young, and coped so well with it. But Cat did wonder if it was a good idea for Mel to keep her two lives secret.

  The phone rang, reminding her that she was supposed to be working today as well as looking after Lou Lou. She’d been waiting for a call from her agent, Anna, re her proposed new Christmas book and series. She’d been a bit distracted with babysitting of late, and hadn’t been as assiduous about chasing it up as she’d intended.

  ‘Catherine, honey, how are you?’ Anna was the only person who ever called Cat, Catherine.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, propping the phone in one hand, while tickling Lou Lou with the other. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit tied up today, I’ve got Lou Lou.’

  ‘I’m very sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ said Anna, who tended to be blunter than Cat’s original agent, Jenny, who’d retired some years back, ‘but they’re not interested in the new series. They feel A Shropshire Christmas is a bit too retro.’

  ‘What?’ Cat was staggered. ‘But it was their idea.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Anna, ‘but you know what these TV companies are like. They want to freshen things up a bit, bring in a different cook. They’re talking about Sienna Woodall, she’s the latest thing, apparently.’

  And ten years younger. The words lay unspoken between them. Cat should have seen this coming. She’d had a lot of jokey comments from the crew during her last series about fading to grey, and needing to botox, now she’d passed 45, and there had been several nasty swipes in the press about middle-aged spread – ‘A greying corpulent whale’ as one reviewer had not so kindly put it. It was true, she couldn’t shift the weight as easily as she once had, but she was hardly obese. It was so unfair. No one complained about Jamie Oliver putting on weight.

  ‘I’m sure something else will turn up,’ continued Anna, in a not terribly convincing manner. ‘You’re still in great demand.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Cat, with an optimism she didn’t feel. ‘I always knew it would happen one day.’

  And it was true she had always known it deep down. Faces went out of fashion all the time, why had she thought she would be any different? She’d been lucky to get the gig at all, and TV was a fickle world. She was no more special than anyone else.

  Pippa was baking, partly to relax, partly to supply the community café and shop in the village run by Vera and Albert Campion. Several years ago when the post office Vera had singlehandedly run was under threat, the whole of Hope Christmas had come together to save it and the shop and café was the result. Pippa baked for them most weeks but more frequently when she was under stress. Today was definitely such a day.

  Dan had swiftly acted on his Christmas decision, and the first week of January had seen a letter arrive from his lawyer, which Pippa had promptly shoved in a drawer in the dresser. She had been ignoring it ever since, pleading busyness, when Dan mentioned it. So far he hadn’t been nagging, but Richard had started to – stupidly, she’d opened the drawer and he’d asked what it was.

  Pippa had considered not telling him. Part of her wanted to say ‘It’s none of your business.’ But she had to recognise it was his business. Gradually, over the last few months, Richard had become a necessary part of her life. If she was to have a future with him, then divorcing Dan was the next logical step. So why was she delaying?

  Richard had proved himself kind, thoughtful and supportive; understanding that Lucy in particular was struggling with the new situation and not pushing himself forward. He had been tact itself on Christmas Day, so that the day had gone off with no dramatics. Pippa owed it to Richard to make a clean break with Dan.

  She kept telling herself that Dan had made his intentions perfectly clear, so she was free to move on. And, on that basis, when Richard asked where they stood, she’d promised to give it a go with him, ‘But slowly, Richard,’ she said, ‘I need time to sort myself out.’

  ‘You’re worth waiting for, Pippa,’ Richard had said simply, which made her want to hug him, and yet at the same time she felt terribly guilty.

  For the truth was, Pippa had always secretly hoped Dan would change his mind. She fretted she might be leading Richard on. Perhaps it was too soon for a new relationship. But when was too soon? And Dan clearly didn’t want her. As she explained to Marianne, ‘I just need time to process that. It’s such a huge change in my life.’

  Dan was the love of her life. Pippa had never imagined she would have another. And now here was Richard, attractive, charming Richard, whose company she enjoyed, and who liked her too. Dan was giving her an opt out and she needed to make a decision towards her future, rather than hanging onto her past, but equally she wasn’t quite ready to let Dan go (will you ever be? the voice said. It really was annoyingly persistent), or get serious with anyone else.

  And Richard was nothing if not determined.

  ‘It’s private,’ Pippa had said, snatching the letter from him, feeling absurdly defensive.

  ‘Ooh, touchy,’ joked Richard, then seeing the look on her face, he stopped immediately. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Instant empathy was something Richard was very good at. It was one of the reasons it had been so easy to let him into her life. His ready understanding of the situation she was in meant she didn’t feel the need to explain.

  Pippa sighed and sat down, feeling a little wobbly.

  ‘You may as well know,’ she said, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. ‘It’s from Dan’s solicitor. He wants a divorce.’

  ‘Oh Pippa.’ Richard sat down too and took her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry, truly I am. But you knew this would happen one day.’

  She squeezed his hand and looked out of the window, at the hills bordering the farm. She’d always sat here at this table looking at those hills with Dan. No longer. She blinked away her tears. Richard didn’t need to see them.

  ‘I know it seems final,’ Richard said. ‘Don’t forget, I’ve been there too. But it’s been over a year, Pippa. Perhaps it is time for a fresh start.’

  Pippa knew he was right, and she knew what he was saying, but she couldn’t bring herself to say that this was what she wanted. What she really wanted was to wipe out the past two years; for Dan never to have fallen out of a tr
ee, for him not to have suffered brain damage; for her to still be sitting here with him. Which of course wasn’t going to happen. She should take the opportunity Dan was giving her to make a clean break. She’d been immensely lucky to have hit the jackpot first time around. Some people never got that. And she had the chance of happiness again. If only she’d let it in. So why did it feel like second best?

  ‘You’re right,’ said Pippa. ‘I’ll sign it and post it tomorrow. I should have done it straight away.’

  ‘You’ll feel better when you do,’ said Richard. ‘I know I did when my divorce finally came through. Time to get the ball rolling.’

  They’d talked no more about it, but Pippa had gone to bed with a heavy heart and hardly slept a wink. She’d been up early to feed the cows in the barn, and sent the kids off to school. Walking back down the frost sharpened lane, to wave Lucy’s bus off, she’d bumped into Dan, which hadn’t helped. Her heart lurched. His six foot frame towered over her, and she wanted to throw her arms around his strong lean torso. But he gave her a sad smile and she felt paralysed. Never had he seemed more desirable to her, nor more distant. She felt guilty about Richard, but she couldn’t help herself. Dan still made her heart leap.

  ‘I’m just sending this to your lawyer,’ the words had been on her lips, but she found she couldn’t say them. Instead she told him that the cows were fed, and he asked how Lucy had been that morning, idle meaningless chitchat, to put off the big things hovering over them. They said goodbye at the front gate, while Dan went off to milk the cows and Pippa shoved the letter back in her pocket and went home to bake out her misery.

  She’d post the letter tomorrow, she thought as she battered a cake viciously. There was no rush. Tomorrow would do.

  Chapter Two

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ Marianne asked.

  Cat was having a consolatory cup of hot chocolate in the village café with Marianne and Pippa. They’d all been busy since Christmas, and it was the first time they’d had a chance to get together. The café was the perfect spot to meet, cosy and warm, the windows steamed up from the busy mums and pensioners all enjoying a mid-morning break.

  ‘Dunno,’ said Cat, who was still trying to get her head around the idea that A Shropshire Christmas wasn’t going ahead as planned. ‘I’d got so used to there always going to be another series, I’d not really thought about what happened when the work dried up. Stupid of me really, I should have planned it out better.’

  ‘There’s always I’m a Celebrity,’ joshed Marianne.

  ‘Oh please,’ said Cat, rolling her eyes. ‘I might be desperate, but I’m not that desperate.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Marianne, looking stricken, ‘it was only a joke.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Cat. ‘I’m sure that’s exactly what Paige and Ruby will be demanding I do next, they’re obsessed with celebrity tv shows.’ She paused and sighed heavily. ‘Maybe it was meant to be, I do seem to be spending more and more of my time with munchkin here, so maybe it’s a good thing the work’s dried up a bit. I don’t think I’d have time anyway.’

  Munchkin, who was sitting in her buggy drinking milk, obligingly smiled revealing a milk-splattered nose. Cat automatically wiped it with a tissue, which elicited a cheering giggle. There was nothing like a baby’s laugh to cut through your gloom.

  ‘You can’t mean that surely?’ said Pippa.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ grinned Cat ruefully. ‘I just feel like suddenly, I’ve become old overnight. Since my miscarriage, I’m finding it harder and harder to lose weight, I feel like I’m sagging in the middle, lacking the energy I had. Plus I keep finding grey hairs on a daily basis. I get much ruder comments on the internet than I used to. And to add insult to injury, I’ve just found out I need reading glasses. I look at Sienna Woodall, and I can see why they want her. She’s sexy, voluptuous, and younger than me. Hell, I’d pick her over me. Looking at her, and looking at me, I feel, I don’t know – invisible.’

  Lou Lou gurgled happily in the buggy. She had a toy rabbit which she dropped on the floor, for the dozenth time, and Cat absentmindedly picked it up.

  ‘But can she cook?’ asked Pippa.

  ‘Who knows?’ said Cat. ‘And who cares? The TV bods probably don’t, and neither do the public. Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Delia’s book and start doing my own stuff online. And maybe I won’t.’

  With a determined shake of her head, Cat pulled herself out of her gloom. She turned to her two friends. ‘It’s not all about me. How’s life treating you two?’

  Marianne looked away when Cat asked, and she felt like she might have said the wrong thing, but if there was something awry, Marianne clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Cat suspected it might have something to do with Gabriel’s ex, Eve. Marianne had hinted there had been a few problems since Christmas, when Eve had been taken ill and eventually sectioned. There was a pause, then Pippa smiled a deliberately cheerful smile, ‘Fine,’ said Pippa, ‘everything’s just fine.’

  ‘That sounded convincing,’ said Cat, anything but convinced. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Only this divorce business,’ sighed Pippa. She took a battered envelope out of her pocket. ‘I keep meaning to post this, but somehow, I can never bring myself to …’

  ‘Pippa!’ exclaimed Marianne, clearly shocked, ‘you said you’d done it last week.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Pippa, looking thoroughly miserable. ‘I just can’t seem to do it. I know I have to, eventually.’

  ‘But not today?’ said Cat with sympathy. Pippa had had a rotten time of it over the last year, sorting out her divorce was probably the last thing she wanted to do.

  Pippa looked embarrassed. ‘It’s really stupid, I know,’ she said. ‘I know I’m not facing up to things. But once I post this, it’s so – final. That’ll be me and Dan done and dusted. And nothing will ever be the same again.’

  ‘Oh Pippa,’ said Cat and squeezed her hand, and Marianne gave her a hug. ‘And here’s me harping on about a stupid TV programme.’

  Cat looked down at Lou Lou who was still playing happily with her rabbit, kicking her toes in the air without a care in the world. Cat might have lost a job, but she still had her family and her husband. And that was worth all the lost jobs in the world.

  Marianne walked back home, feeling bereft. She’d enjoyed the break with Cat and Pippa, enjoyed sitting in the warmth, sipping hot chocolate and chewing the fat. It was one of the best things about coming to live in Hope Christmas. Here she had solid, reliable, decent friends, so unlike flaky Carly and Anna her so called mates in London. She knew she could trust Cat and Pippa to help her whenever she needed. It was a very comforting feeling.

  But much as she’d love to, she couldn’t stay in the café all day; the twins had a long day at nursery today and there was plenty to do at home, she should make the most of their absence to give the house a good spring clean for starters. It was just that … She didn’t particularly feel like doing any of it. Perhaps she should go and help Gabriel in the fields. At least it would get her outside, and on a fresh clear day like this, it was much better than being indoors doing housework.

  She felt cheered by the thought – before the twins were born, when she wasn’t working, she’d often helped Gabriel out, but since their arrival, there was simply never enough time. Marianne didn’t have much time today either, but she could do something. Anything was better than tidying the lounge, cleaning the kitchen, and sorting out the toy room for no particular purpose as it would be trashed again once the kids got back.

  But when she got home, Gabriel was already indoors, sitting by the fire feeding a new born lamb.

  ‘The mum died,’ he explained. ‘I found this one in the back of the barn, baaing beside the body.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Marianne. Gabriel always took the deaths of his ewes personally. Sometimes she thought he was far too sentimental for a farmer.

  ‘Can I help?’ One job she never tired of was feeding new born lambs. Something
about their lovely wriggliness made her feel cosy and warm.

  ‘The twins will be thrilled to pieces,’ she said.

  ‘Won’t they just?’ Gabriel smiled the smile which always made Marianne go tingly all over, even now, when they’d been married all this time. With his shock of dark hair, soulful brown eyes, and lovely wide open grin, it always made Marianne feel blessed that he was hers. It felt like ages since she’d seen him smile like that. Maybe that’s what happened when you’d been married a few years, and had an awkward ex hovering in the background. You forgot to smile at each other.

  They shared a cosy half hour till the lamb was settled, and then, finishing off his tea, Gabriel got up to go out again.

  ‘I’d love to stay all day,’ he said, ‘but needs must …’

  ‘Can I help?’ asked Marianne. ‘It’s either that or slit my wrists over the state of the playroom.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Gabriel, his face lighting up. ‘It’s been ages since you’ve come out on the fields with me. It would be great to have some company. I was just going back out to check on the pregnant ewes, and make sure they’ve got enough feed.’

  ‘It will do me good to get some fresh air,’ said Marianne. ‘I mustn’t forget to pick the twins up, though.’ She grabbed a coat, hat and scarf, and went to the boot room to pick up her wellies. Just as well she’d never been one for glamour – being a farmer’s wife gave you precious few opportunities to spruce yourself up. You chose this, remember, she said to herself, as she followed Gabriel down the lane, to the gate at the end which led to their fields. The pregnant ewes were in a barn at the end of it, Gabriel always liking to keep them in till they’d had their babies, although it made for a lot of hard work keeping it clean, but the alternative was scouring the hills looking for lost ewes, which still also happened occasionally.

  As they climbed over the foot stile towards their lower fields, where the pregnant ewes were wintering, Marianne noticed some activity in the field next to them, which belonged to Blackstock Farm, on the other side of the lane. It was the same field where she’d seen an estate agent showing someone round just before Christmas.