A Merry Little Christmas (28 page)

The question hung between them, though Marianne knew that Mrs Garratt was damned sure she knew the response to that one.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ said Marianne.

It was all she could think to say, and all she could think about for the rest of the day. But as she packed up for the day she felt overwhelmed with misery. She loved her job; loved having her own class. The thought of losing that wasn’t at all appealing. But she loved the twins too, and she was struggling as it was to juggle the competing demands of home and work. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel and call it a day.

‘You should follow your heart.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Marianne was so engrossed in her thoughts she’d run straight into Michael Nicholas, looking as smoulderingly gorgeous as ever. What on earth was he doing here?

‘I’ve come for a governors meeting,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘I think you’re a great teacher, and you’ll be missed if you go, but you need to do what’s right for you and your family. And only you can know that.’

‘Oh, er, well, thanks,’ said Marianne, wondering how he knew exactly what she was thinking.

‘Call it my special gift,’ he said, winking at her, as he opened the door to let her out. ‘I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ she said, and set off for home.

She was so late back, Gabriel was in earlier than her for once, and she found him playing with the twins in the lounge. They were giggling their heads off while he tickled them, letting them jump all over him.

‘How did it go?’ he said.

Marianne pulled a face.

‘How would you feel about me giving up work for a bit?’ she said. ‘I think that’s the only proper choice I’ve got.’

The twins came toddling over to her, to grab her legs, saying ‘Mama, Mama!’ which was most gratifying as they still hadn’t progressed to ‘Dada!’ and were stubbornly pursuing their own private language. Marianne would have worried about it, had it not been clear that their hearing was perfectly good, and had she not had a very sensible and sane health visitor, who told her it was quite common for twins not to speak much before they were two. ‘They’ve got each other,’ she’d said, ‘why would they want to talk to anyone else?’

‘Why indeed?’ laughed Marianne, feeling much better that she hadn’t produced two ‘backward’ babies, as her mother had so sweetly put it.

‘Oh, well, whatever you want to do,’ said Gabriel vaguely.

‘Earth to Gabe,’ said Marianne. ‘I’m talking about giving up work here. Don’t you have a stronger opinion than that?’

‘Sorry,’ said Gabriel, ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind. Seriously. I don’t mind what you do, so long as it’s what you want.’

‘I think I want to take a break,’ said Marianne. ‘That bloody head is making it so difficult for me to–’

Gabriel was looking distracted again.

‘What’s up?’ said Marianne, as she knelt down and scooped the twins in her arms.

‘Why do you think something’s up?’ said Gabriel.

‘Oh, the look on your face, the fact that you are trying really hard to be cheerful, when clearly you’re not, the fact that you’re paying no notice to a word I’m saying,’ said Marianne. ‘Go on, what’s Eve done now?’

‘Why did you think this has to be about Eve?’ said Gabriel.

‘Doh,’ said Marianne. ‘Because she is the only person who gets under your skin like this. Come on, help me get these two monkeys to bed, and we can talk about it then.’

‘So, go on then, what’s the problem?’ said Marianne, as she leant over the bath and tested the water with her elbow. The twins were running around in nappies on the landing. Luckily they hadn’t worked out how to undo the stair gate yet, but it would be a job catching them to get them into the bath.

‘It’s this weekend,’ said Gabriel. ‘It seems that Eve has promised to take Steven to some show in London, and she forgot that it was our weekend to have him.’

‘Oh,’ said Marianne. ‘Well, can we swap weekends?’

‘Apparently not,’ said Gabriel. ‘Darren booked tickets for the football the following weekend.’

‘But I thought you were taking him to that match?’ said Marianne.

‘Me too,’ said Gabriel.

‘What does Steven say?’ said Marianne.

‘He was really apologetic when I spoke to him tonight,’ said Gabriel, ‘I guess he’s in an awkward position.’

‘He certainly is,’ said Marianne. ‘Come on, it’s only two weekends. We just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

‘That might be harder than we think,’ said Gabriel with a sigh. ‘Eve is a law unto herself, you know that.’

‘I know,’ said Marianne. ‘But we have rights too, and so does Steven. It will be okay, you’ll see.’

She gave him a kiss and then went to catch the twins, who despite their protests, loved going in the bath. It was fun bathing them with Gabriel, as he didn’t often have the opportunity to help out, and he’d cheered up considerably by the time the twins were in bed. Until the phone rang and Steven was in tears, because he felt he’d let his dad down. Listening to Gabriel speaking to him soothingly to calm him down, reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault, and it didn’t matter, Marianne felt she had never loved him more. But she was also anxious. Eve was stirring things up again, and that could only be bad news.

The funeral cars deposited the Tinsalls outside Hope Christmas church. They were all there, even Mel, who, after Noel had gone round and pleaded with her, had sulkily returned home the previous day. Cat and Mel had been avoiding each other ever since, Cat being unwilling to start another argument, but at least she was here.

Andrew Lawton gave Cat an encouraging smile as he greeted the family at the church door. Then they stood in line behind the coffin, with Auntie Eileen and Angela bringing up the rear. It was a cold miserable day, but the threatened rain had held off for now. As the organ music started, Cat stiffened her spine, and followed the coffin into the church in a daze.

Gratifyingly, the church was packed. Many of Louise’s friends from London had faithfully trekked all the way up on the train, and Cat’s own friends – some from her school days who remembered sitting round Louise’s kitchen table in their youth and several who didn’t even know Mum but had come to support her. She was touched and startled to see Len, her moody director, in the congregation, sitting next to Anna, her agent. Susan Challoner was sitting with a slightly confused looking Alfie, and even Michael Nicholas had turned up.

The family filed in and sat down in the front pew. Cat found herself wanting to look anywhere but at Mum’s coffin, with its simple wreath of lilies from her and Noel, lilies having been Louise’s favourite flower, and the larger wreath of yellow roses and carnations picked out by the children, because Ruby said it should be cheerful. Cat didn’t want to look at the coffin. Didn’t want to admit this was actually happening.

The service was a blur. She was vaguely aware of Auntie Eileen recalling the fun times they’d had before Mum got ill, and her stoicism when she realised what was happening to her. Andrew Lawton gave a moving tribute and talked of the strength both she and Louise had displayed when her illness took hold for good. Strength? Cat didn’t think she’d been strong – she had just about held it together for the years when Louise was in the home. There was nothing else she could have done.

It was only at the end, when they sang
Jerusalem,
Mum’s favourite hymn, that Cat felt her composure was slipping. She looked across at Paige, who was weeping hysterically in Auntie Eileen’s arms. Noel squeezed her hand and she could feel his emotion – he had been very fond of his mother-in-law. Noel’s mother Angela was hugging Ruby hard, and James wiped a surreptitious tear away from his eye. But it was Mel who defeated her. Tears streamed down her face, as she sobbed her heart out. Without pausing to think how she’d react, Cat pulled her daughter into her arms, and they both wept together.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ she said, ‘everything will be okay.’ It seemed like the right thing to say. Cat only wished she could believe it were true.

‘God, Tom Brooker’s actually done us proud,’ said Marianne, as she stood on the steps of the Sunshine Trust posing for a group photo with Cat, Pippa and all the mums taking part in the demo, plus lots of the kids who attended the centre.

Not only were Shropshire TV there, thanks to Tom Brooker’s impassioned piece in
The Times
the previous weekend, the story had made the nationals. As soon as the photos were over, Pippa and the woman who ran the Sunshine Trust were being besieged by an army of TV and print reporters alike. The story was much bigger than they could have imagined.

‘And even Len Franklin’s interested,’ said Cat. ‘Turns out, he’s really good mates with Antoine Lavière.’ (A famous award-winning chef, well known for his passionate support of children’s charities.) ‘Thanks to Len, Antoine’s going to give us a donation and is offering to compere our charity auction.’

‘Wow, that’s brilliant,’ said Marianne. ‘I feel rather pathetic; I’ve contributed bugger all to this.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Cat. ‘You’ve done loads, plus you give Pippa regular support, and you’re here aren’t you? Demos wouldn’t be any good without demonstrators.’

Pippa had started up a chant of ‘What do we want? Respite care! When do we want it? Now!’ for the benefit of the TV cameras, so Marianne and Cat joined in enthusiastically.

‘I hope this makes a difference,’ said Marianne. ‘I can’t see how Pippa will manage if it doesn’t.’

‘Me too,’ said Cat. ‘At least we’ve got people’s interest. That’s a good start.’

The demo was beginning to die down a bit, and the twins were beginning to play up, so Marianne dashed over to Pippa. ‘Do you mind if I head off now? The twins are getting a bit grumpy.’

‘No worries,’ said Pippa, giving her a hug. ‘Thanks so much for coming.’

Marianne put the twins in the car and got in and drove home. As she pulled up into the farmyard, she caught a glimpse of someone in the lane.

‘Oh hi, Mel,’ she said, recognising Cat’s daughter.

Mel’s face was blotchy and red as if she’d been crying.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Mel. But she so patently wasn’t, Marianne said, ‘You look like you could do with a cup of tea and a chat.’

Mel looked as if she was going to say no, and then her resolve crumbled.

‘Come on and sit down,’ said Marianne, taking her into the kitchen. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

‘Could I have hot chocolate?’

Mel looked so young and vulnerable. Too young to be a mum. Poor poor thing.

‘You do know your mother is worried sick about you, don’t you?’ Marianne said carefully, as she sat down at the table.

Cat had told her only that morning that although Mel had come home for the funeral, she was still determinedly camping out at Karen’s.

‘I’m at my wit’s end,’ Cat had said. ‘I thought yesterday I’d made a breakthrough, but she went straight back to Karen’s afterwards. I just don’t know what to do.’

‘No she’s not, she doesn’t care,’ said Mel.

‘Of course she cares,’ said Marianne. ‘She’s your mum. It’s her job. She’s just had a lot on her plate, and no mum wants her teenage daughter to be pregnant.’

‘Well it’s not like I planned it,’ said Mel defiantly.

‘So go on, then. Spill the beans. What happened?’ said Marianne.

It was like a floodgate opening. Mel poured the whole story out, how Andy had chased after her, how she’d been frightened of losing him, and now, ‘He doesn’t want to know,’ she wailed. ‘I’ve just been to see him, and he keeps saying he doesn’t even know if the baby is his. How can he say that?’

‘Because he’s a bastard?’ said Marianne.

‘I thought he loved me,’ wailed Mel.

‘And you wouldn’t be the first,’ said Marianne. ‘Have you thought about not having it?’

‘It’s too late for that,’ said Mel. ‘Karen’s mum took me to the doctor’s last week and I’m nearly twenty weeks. I couldn’t get rid of it now. And I’m not sure I want to anyway.’

‘Do your parents know any of this?’ said Marianne.

‘No, I haven’t told them,’ said Mel. ‘I don’t think they’d understand. And I’m worried what Dad might do to Andy.’

‘Oh come on, Mel, this isn’t the dark ages,’ laughed Marianne. ‘I really think you should tell them what you’ve told me. They’re your parents and they want to help, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now. You should go home. It’s not fair on your mum or your dad.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Mel.

‘And Mel,’ Marianne added, ‘it’s not right. You shouldn’t be seeing the doctor with Karen’s mum. This may not be what your mum wants, but I’m damn sure she’d want to take you to the doctor herself.’

Pippa got in from the demonstration, feeling a huge sense of satisfaction. She had begun to feel a little bit of hope, that maybe they would actually do this. Maybe they
could
save the respite services. She’d deliberately left the boys at home with Dan. They did so much for their little sister on a daily basis, Pippa felt they needed a break. She walked into the lounge where she expected to find them where she’d left them, watching the cricket, but they weren’t there.

‘Hullo, anyone in?’ She wheeled Lucy into the lounge and helped her into her special chair. ‘Things are looking up, Luce. We might just be able to keep the Sunshine Trust respite services after all.’

Lucy clicked her approval.

That’s good, she typed. I’d hate to have to spend every weekend here.

Pippa laughed. Lucy’s sense of humour was what kept her going some days.

The house was deadly quiet, and Pippa felt a sudden sense of foreboding. Where was everyone? She went upstairs calling for the boys, and Dan, to no avail. She went back into the lounge, and turned on the telly for Lucy.

‘I’m just popping outside for a minute, sweetie,’ she said. Maybe Dan had taken the boys out to play footie or something. Although he had barely kicked a ball since his accident, so it wasn’t terribly likely. Pippa went out into the courtyard. The Land Rover was still there. No sign of anyone. Odd. She walked across the courtyard, and wandered towards the barn at the far end, shouting the boys’ names. Barney, their dog, ran out barking wildly. He seemed determined to show her something, so she followed him to the barn door. She opened the door, and peered into the gloom.