A Hope Christmas Love Story (4 page)

It’s a cold evening, so I give Melanie my coat. She looks gorgeous in a pretty flouncy dress, but she doesn’t look very warm.

We wander down the garden holding hands, and I can honestly say I have never felt happier. It’s a clear starry night and we find a bank at the bottom of the garden, and lie down on my coat and look at the stars together. It is so peaceful and I feel utterly content.

We lie quietly, side by side. It’s weird this feeling of not needing to talk. I’ve never had that with a girl before. But I like it. In fact I like everything about being with Melanie. Being with her is totally restful. And she accepts me for who I am. I just can’t get enough of her.

I suddenly realise it’s midnight. I feel terrible. Normally when I’m out, I ring Mum at some point to check on Lou Lou. But tonight I’ve completely forgotten. And it’s too late now. I jerk upright, and grab my phone. One text from Mum:
Everything fine. Lou Lou settled. Have a great evening. Love Mumxxx

I text back:
Thanks Mum, you’re a star. Sorry I forgot to callxxx.

Mum comes right back.
Don’t worry about it. HAVE FUNxxx

I take a deep breath. I’m so lucky to have a mum like her. And I feel lousy that I have dumped on her.

“Everything ok?” Will looks at me with concern.

“Yes, fine,” I say. “Just forgot to check something with my mum.”

And that weaselly guilty feeling rises in my gullet. “Something”, Lou Lou was more than something. Why can’t I just tell him the truth? But where do I begin?

“Only I thought you were about to rush off again,” he says “Like you always do.”

“Do I?” I say nonchalantly. I hadn’t realised he’d noticed. But it makes me feel quite squirmy inside to know that he has.

“Yes,” he says. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were going to turn into a pumpkin.”

“Nothing like that,” I say, but I feel at war with myself. I love spending time with Will, but just how long can I go on keeping Lou Lou a secret?

***

She does it again. We’re having a great time, or so I think, and suddenly she leaps up as if she’s been shot and frantically starts texting someone. She says it’s nothing, just family stuff, but again there’s that guarded look. And I wonder what she’s hiding and why.

I make a feeble joke about her turning into a pumpkin, as she’s always rushing away from me, then wish I hadn’t because she says, “Do I really?” She looks so stricken, that I feel bad. Whatever it is she’s keeping secret, she must have her reasons.

But then she suddenly says she’s cold and we go inside, and the magic is lost.

The party is in full swing but now: the drinking game people are beyond the point of no repair: a couple of them are throwing up. Mel looks at me, and I look at her. This isn’t really our idea of fun.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I say, “But I really do live round the corner. Do you want to crash there instead?”

Melanie looks at the bodies on the floor in various stages of comatoseness. I can see she’s weighing up what I’ve said. But she also looks nervous. Damn. I’ve spooked her.

“Look, I really don’t expect anything,” I say. “I’m not like that.”

“I know you’re not, Will,” she says softly. “That’s why I like you.”

She kisses me on the cheek, and takes my hand in hers.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get out of here.”

So we go back to Will’s. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m so nervous. I really don’t want to have sex with him, but he’s gorgeous and kind and funny. I do trust him, but can I trust myself?

I’m wiser now, but I made a big mess of things last time. I’m just getting back on track. After Andy, I’m wary, but I know Will isn’t the pushy kind.

When we get back to his, he puts my fears to rest. He gets some popcorn and we watch
Thor
, with Izzy his sister. She’s really tall and gothlike, with dark spiky hair, masses of eyeliner and bright lipstick. Though she’s nearly two years younger than me I find her a bit intimidating, at first. She seems so grown up and sorted, unlike me. I’m finding it hard to know what to say till we bond over Chris Hemsworth. And then it’s really cheerful and fun, and just like hanging out with Paige and James.

“Watch out for my big brother,” she says with a grin as she heads for bed.

“Alone at last,” I say lightly, but stomach is turning in knots and I feel really nervous. Is this where he tries something?

But Will is as decent as I think he is. He gets me a duvet and we have a little cuddle and then we doze off on each other’s shoulders. And it feels cosy and comfortable and
right
.

***

I wake up first, with a stiff neck and an aching arm that I’ve had round Melanie all night. It’s still dark and I can feel Melanie’s soft breathing next and I sit watching her for a little. She’s so beautiful, it doesn’t seem possible that she’s here with me. I wasn’t sure she’d stay the night, but I’m so glad she did. And weirdly gladder that nothing has happened. I don’t want to rush this and get it wrong. Plus I’m not sure how experienced she is. I don’t want to frighten her off.

I get up to make breakfast, but gently, so as not to wake her. She’s awake anyway, when I come back with tea.

“Sorry,” she yawns. “I hope you didn’t have too uncomfortable a night because of me.”

I smile. I have a crick in my neck, but I’m not going to tell her that.

“What for?” I say. “I had a nice night. Here, have some tea.”

“Thanks,” she says and smiles that lovely smile that makes my heart sing. “What time is it?”

“Just after seven. Do you want to get some more sleep?”

“No,” she says, “I’ve got to get home soon. My mum needs me to babysit today.”

“Oh,” I say disapponted. “I thought we could go for a walk, or grab some coffee in town.”

“Another time,” she says. “Mum has to work today.”

“On a Saturday?” I’m surprised.

“ “Freelance journalists work funny hours,” says Melanie

“What sort of stuff does she write?” I ask. “Oh domestic things,” she says, “cooking and that sort of thing.”

“Have I heard of her?”

“Doubt it,” she says and changes the subject.

Then she’s like a whirlwind, getting ready to leave me faster than I thought possible. And by eight we’re walking back to her car which is still parked around the corner. The magic from last night seems to be slipping away. I wish I knew how to get it back. I feel like suddenly she can’t wait to be gone, and I wonder what I’ve done wrong.

And then she throws her arms around me and kisses me and I’m lost again.

“You’re so special, Will,” she says, “And I know I can be a bit distant at times, but I do really like you. I want you to know that.”

She looks as though she might be about to say something else, but then shakes her head.

“I have to go,” she says.

“I like you too,” I say and kiss her again.

I wave her off and my heart is singing. Melanie may have her secrets, but she likes me. She
really
likes me.

After the party it feels like something has shifted. We spend all our time together at college, and everyone seems to have accepted us as a fixture. Sometimes we go back to his in our lunchbreaks. Often Izzy’s there and they have good natured rows about how much more time she should be spending at school. She’s doing AS Levels, but her grades from the previous year hadn’t been great, and Will is on her case nearly as much as Mum is on James’. It makes me laugh. Sometimes Will behaves like an old mother hen, nagging her about eating right. But his own diet seems to consist of pot noodles and baked beans. No wonder he’s so skinny.

“You need some proper food inside you,” I say, “don’t either of you ever cook properly?”

I can see that with situation he’s in, Will is as tied down with Izzy as I am with Lou Lou. We have that in common. I wish I could let him know.

“Not one of my life skills,” admits Will.

“Why cook when there’s Maccas and Dominoes,” says Izzy, rolling her eyes.

“Haven’t you heard of the obesity epidemic?” I say laughing. “Seriously. You two should cook properly.”

I look in the fridge to find a bit of ham and cheese.

“Mum orders us food from Ocado, to make sure we eat,” says Will.

I check the contents of the freezer and find some ready meals.

“Right,” I say. “Next time I come round I’ll bring you some proper food and teach you how to cook.”

It’s really weird how those two have so much money and don’t know how to spend it properly. Neither of them have a clue how to budget.

“How do you know all this stuff?” says Will.

“My mum,” I say, “she’s big on cooking.

I neglect to mention Mum is also famous cookery author, Cat Tinsall.

“You should send her our way,” says Will.

“Yeah, I should,” I grin.

But now I’m committed. I’ve got find an excuse to come round for an evening and cook for them. I’ve been putting Will off a lot recently, with having to look after siblings while Mum sorts Granny out. Which is partly true. We seem to be having lots of Granny related crises recently, the latest of which seems to have ended up with her staying permanently.

But I can’t tell Will the real reason I can’t see him in the evenings. I’ve kept Lou Lou secret so long, I don’t know how to begin to bring her into the conversation now. I feel really bad about it. But what can you do?

***

Melanie comes round a couple of nights later, good as her word. She brings bags and bags of shopping with her. And before I know it the fridge is full. Like it used to be years ago, when Mum could still be bothered to cook.

I feel a sudden pang of loss and anger. Why did she have to leave us? Of all the parents in the world, why did Izzy and I get the most selfish ones? I know I’m technically an adult and should be able to cope, but it still hurts that they can’t be bothered with us. True, Mum does invite us to Sunday lunch from time to time, but I never go. Izzy does sometimes, but it usually ends in a row and her coming home early.

Izzy struggles really badly with her anger management, Which is why it’s so great she gets on well with Melanie, who’s also been really understanding why I can’t often see her in the evenings, as I have to make sure that Izzy is behaving herself. Melanie says it’s ok as she has to do her fair share of babysitting, and she has family problems of her own. I’m glad she doesn’t hold it against me. And I’m really pleased we have tonight.

She’s like a demon in the kitchen; a whirl of efficiency. She has me and and Izzy chopping onions and insists on putting on music and dancing while we cook. It’s what her mum does apparently.

“You have to cook and dance,” she says laughing at me when I protest. “It’s the law.”

Melanie brings light and laughter into our home. It’s such a long time since I’ve felt happy here, I almost forgot I could. And she makes a mean lasagne. God, I’ve got it bad.

It’s mid November and the weather has changed suddenly. It’s much colder, and driving home from college on dark wintry nights is miserable. Christmas is coming and Mum’s doing her mad Christmas thing and baking like a looney, and writing manic lists everywhere. She always gets like this before Christmas. She clearly feels guilty about it too, as she suggests that Paige and I go for a girly shopping day with her and Lou Lou, although I think she is just using any excuse to get away from Granny, who appears to have fallen out with my Auntie Kay big time. She was living with Auntie Kay, but now she seems to be with us, possibly forever. I love Granny, but she’s hard work and not as much fun as my other Granny who had alzheimers and died before Lou Lou was born. Even when she was really poorly, mad Gran could make me laugh. Granny on the other hand …

So I get where Mum is coming from, and it is nice to have a day out wandering through the Christmas market in Shrewsbury. It’s really festive, with a Christmas tree in the town centre, a band playing carols and lights everywhere. Lou Lou loves it.We drink gluhwein, and toast marshmallows, and have lots of fun choosing presents for Lou Lou, who’s still too young to work out what’s going on.

It’s all great, until we run into Izzy, who finds me extolling the virtues of cute little babygros in Marks to Paige, while Lou Lou sits playing in her buggy. Mum’s gone to Primark with Ruby, and we’ve said we’ll catch her up.

“You’re not getting broody, I hope,” she says coming up behind me so silently I nearly jump out of my skin.

“No, of course not,” I laugh, but I can feel myself blush. I hope Will isn’t around somewhere. I’ve told him I’m working in the pub this weekend, and can’t see him. It’s been tricky. We see each other all the time at college, but only get to meet up about once a week outside. It is true I do a lot of shifts in the pub at the weekend, and when I’m not doing that, or looking after Lou Lou, or doing my homework, I’m busy writing articles for Mother & Baby mags. But I haven’t told him about that. Or about the weekend photo sessions I sometimes take Lou Lou to I got her into Baby modelling a while back, as it seemed like a good way of saving for her future. She doesn’t do it often, but inevitably the sessions fall at the weekend. And of course, I can’t tell Will about that either.I feel uneasy about my two lives, and now they’re about to make contact and I really don’t like it. Though I’m riven with guilt about not telling Will about Lou Lou, I don’t know where to begin. Particularly as he always goes on about how stupid people are who have babies too young. I’m sure that’s to do with his mum, who had him at nineteen, but still. What if he thinks I’m stupid too?