Last Christmas (24 page)

‘Oh, Stephen,’ Gabriel gave his son a hug. ‘Of course it’s not your fault. Who told you that?’

‘Nathan,’ said Stephen.

‘Well, I shall box Nathan’s ears next time I see him,’ said Gabriel. ‘Don’t you ever listen to such nonsense again.’

‘Why did Mummy leave then?’ said Stephen.

‘Mummy’s very sick,’ said Gabriel. ‘It makes her sad sometimes and she can’t help it. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t either. Sometimes sad things just happen. But good things happen too.’

‘Like what?’ said Stephen.

‘Like I saw Shaun today and he’s growing into a fine
big sheep and it will be time to shear him soon,’ said Gabriel.

They’d christened the sheep they’d rescued Shaun, and let him out on the hills when he’d grown strong enough. Gabriel often spotted him on account of his black tail.

‘Oh, yes, that’s good,’ said Stephen sleepily. ‘But I think it would be really good if Mummy came back.’

‘That may not happen,’ said Gabriel, and hesitated. Was now the moment to mention Marianne?

‘But it might,’ continued Stephen. ‘I shall make a wish on a star tonight and every night for Mummy to come back home.’

Now was evidently not the time. Gabriel drew the curtains with a heavy heart and kissed his son goodnight. How was he going to prevent Stephen from facing heartbreak all over again?

Cat was in a lunchtime meeting, discussing the layout of the Christmas edition over sandwiches and sparkling water. The plan was to announce the winner of the Nativity competition the first week in December and to print the article about the Nativity in the January issue.

‘Come on, people, I’ve got a really good vibe about this,’ Bev was saying as they pored over layouts.

Even Cat had to admit, unenthusiastic as she felt about Christmas given that it was the middle of July (
and
she still had the summer holidays to get through without a family holiday as their finances were so stretched), that it was looking good.

The phone in the meeting room rang and Bev picked it up, ‘Yes, she’s here,’ she said. ‘Cat, it’s for you.’

Cat picked up the phone. ‘Hello, Catherine Tinsall here,’ she said.

‘Mrs Tinsall? Staff Nurse Tully from Homerton Hospital here. No need to be alarmed but I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,’ said the impersonal voice at the other end of the phone. ‘Your mother’s had a fall and is in hospital.’

Cat felt the colour drain from her face. She felt dizzy and sick. She sat down and asked, ‘Is it serious?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ said the woman on the other end, ‘but she is very distressed and asking for you.’

‘Of course, I’ll be there right away,’ said Cat. She put the phone down, and turned to Bev. ‘I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to go. My mother’s in hospital.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Bev, putting a sympathetic arm on her shoulder. ‘Yes, off you go, scoot.’

Cat ran to get her things and rushed out of the building, ringing Regina to ask her if she’d mind picking the kids up as an emergency. She had no idea how long she’d be.

By the time she got to the hospital, Mum was asleep. Her face was bruised, and her ribs were cracked but otherwise the cheerful doctor, who looked about ten, declared her to be fit as a fiddle.

‘Though, of course, with her medical condition being what it is,’ he continued, ‘she’s very unlikely to be able to continue in her own home. You’re going to have to consider an alternative.’

‘What do you mean?’ So far no one had actually told her what was wrong with her mother, only that they were waiting for the test results.

‘Well, as I’m sure you are aware, the fact that your mother is suffering from dementia is probably one of the reasons she fell.’

‘It’s definite then?’Cat’s voice came out in a squeak.‘Mum has Alzheimer’s?’

The doctor looked stricken. He was obviously quite junior and not used to having to break this kind of news.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I assumed you knew.’

‘Suspected,’ said Cat, ‘but no one’s told us for definite. We hadn’t had any test results.’

‘Well,technically, there are no tests to diagnose Alzheimer’s,’ said the doctor. ‘It’s more a case of ruling things out. The MRI scan shows your mother has suffered from one or two TIAs but her other symptoms clearly point to
Alzheimer’s. I wish I could have something more positive to say.’

‘It’s all right, Doctor,’ said Cat. ‘In a way it’s a relief. At least we know now.’

And now the axe had fallen, she could start planning for the future. She shivered at the thought.

‘What do you think will happen now?’ she asked.

‘It depends how quickly the disease progresses,’ said the doctor. ‘Realistically, you are going to have to brace yourself for more of this kind of thing. The memory loss and mood changes are likely to get worse, and your mother will be less and less able to manage. I’m so sorry, but it can only go downhill from here.’

Marianne was feeling rather nervous. At Diana Carew’s insistence, she’d been dragged into the first meeting of the year for the Village Nativity. Quite why they needed to get on with it in July, she wasn’t clear, but Diana had been most insistent that the sooner they started the better.

‘Christmas will soon be upon us, you know,’ said Diana, ‘and, with all the chaos this year, we can’t afford to get behind.’

As the village hall was still out of action, the meeting had been called at Diana’s house. Fortunately she had a large house situated in a road just off the High Street, halfway up a hill, with a massive lounge that had splendid views of the Shropshire hills. It was a balmy evening so Diana had thrown her patio doors open, letting in the sounds of distant baaing and the odd car. It felt extremely odd to be sitting here discussing the Nativity.

‘Right, first things first,’ said Diana. ‘Here’s this year’s script, hot off the press from my own fair hand or, should I say, computer.’

She solemnly passed round the scripts. Pippa, who was
sitting next to Marianne, whispered mischievously, ‘Bet it’s exactly the same as last year’s.’

When the scripts arrived on Marianne’s lap she realised with a groan that Pippa was right. Apart from a few updates to mention the credit crunch and the flood, the script was word for word the same as last year’s, right down to the pesky elves.

‘I think you’re forgetting something very important,’ Miss Woods said huffily.

‘And that is?’

‘As we don’t currently have a village hall, where exactly are you planning to put on your great oeuvre?’

Diana shot a poison-dagger look at Miss Woods, before declaring: ‘The Vicar has kindly said we can use the Parish Centre. Moving swiftly on—’

‘It’s too small,’ said Miss Woods bluntly. ‘You know how packed the Nativity gets. The Parish Centre’s all right for your average Sunday when three people and his dog turn up. It cannot possibly cope with all the grannies and aunties and uncles and cousins who come out to watch the Nativity on Christmas Eve.’

‘Well…’ Diana looked utterly flummoxed for once.

‘I’ve got a suggestion,’ said Marianne shyly. ‘Why don’t we use the chapel at Hopesay Manor? It’s beautiful, very simple, and probably the perfect place for a Nativity.’

Diana, looking disconcerted that someone else had made a suggestion, let alone someone as new to the village and as young as Marianne, looked on the verge of pooh-poohing the idea. But Pippa jumped in with, ‘I think that would be wonderful’, and Miss Woods said, ‘I’m sure Ralph would be delighted to host it.’ The rest of the committee nodded their agreement, so Diana had to reluctantly concede to Marianne’s suggestion.

Emboldened by her success, Marianne ventured, ‘I’ve got
another idea. Which might help us all. Has anyone seen this?’ She produced the issue of
Happy Homes
that featured the Nativity competition. ‘I thought we could enter it and, if we win, put the money towards a new village hall, which could become our community centre too, from where we could run the post office and shop. What does anyone else think?’

‘That’s an excellent idea,’ said Diana, snatching the magazine out of Marianne’s hand. ‘The Parish Committee are already thinking we need the village hall to offer services for the elderly as well as being a meeting place. I shall look into it straightaway. Luckily we already have our script in place. I’m sure that will steal a march on our competitors.’

‘That wasn’t quite what I meant—’ muttered Marianne. She felt as if she’d been steamrollered by an enormous truck. Whatever chance Hope Christmas might have had in the competition, they didn’t stand a chance of winning it now.

‘So, as you can see from the pictures I’ve taken,’ Noel was concluding his presentation to the GRB board ‘the eco town is not a sensible way forward. And in the current economic climate, I would venture to add that it would be an economic disaster to continue on this path. May I remind you of the original plans I made for sustainable housing on the Hopesay Manor Estate? There is lots of potential for this kind of development in the area, which would fit much better with the local community and provide a long-term plan that we could feel proud of being involved in.’

‘Let me just stop you there, Noel,’ said Gerry Cowley. ‘I think we’ve seen enough. Matt, have you anything to add?’

‘Yes, I have,’ said Matt, ‘I think Noel is painting far too gloomy a picture of the situation. From what I understand from Luke Nicholas, his investors are perfectly happy to stay on board with the current project, so long as we go
ahead with plans to divert the river. I’m doing a feasibility study on that as we speak, and it’s looking like the best solution. Given how much money we’ve already invested in this project, it seems utterly foolhardy to leave it now. I think it offers the best solution currently, as well as in the long term. There are many residents of Hope Christmas whose houses have been affected by the flood. Some of them may well be interested in investing in property with state-of-the-art flood defences. We are currently looking into ways we can make the option more attractive for them.’

Noel knew he’d been wasting his time, even before Matt started speaking. He turned over the card in his pocket that Ralph Nicholas had given him. Did he dare go freelance? Could he afford to do that to his family?

‘Noel, a word,’ said Gerry as the meeting broke up. Noel stayed where he was, wondering what was going to come next.

‘I think we can safely say the Hope Christmas project hasn’t been working out as planned,’ said Gerry. ‘So I’ve come to my decision. With regret, Noel, I can’t keep carrying you any longer. This time I’m going to have to let you go.’

Gabriel and Dan were in the barns shearing sheep. Stephen loved nothing more than coming home from school and leaning over the pens, watching his dad and Dan at work. Gabriel enjoyed it too. He loved the feel of the wool coming off the sheep’s back and watching the ridiculous expressions on their faces as they wobbled off, looking distinctly spooked about being naked.

Stephen had seemed much happier over the last week and, though he clearly missed Benjy, as Gabriel did, he had come to terms with his loss remarkably quickly. Gabriel wished he could accept it so readily. He needed to get a new dog soon, a sheep farmer was useless without one, but
Benjy had felt like so much a part of him, he couldn’t quite bear the thought of a replacement yet.

He’d also been so busy helping out at Pippa and Dan’s, shearing sheep, and taking this year’s lambs to market, he and Marianne had had scarcely any time alone. Probably just as well really, he reflected, as he still hadn’t quite worked out how to tell his son, following Stephen’s revelations. Pippa assured him it would only be a matter of time before Stephen finally accepted that his mother wasn’t coming back, but Gabriel wasn’t so sure. For all her flakiness, Eve had always shown Stephen great tenderness in the times when she’d been well enough to. And Stephen was an incredibly loyal child. Gabriel had the feeling that, whatever she threw at him, Stephen would always accept her back. He still felt a twinge of guilt for not having told Stephen his mum had been with his grandmother at Easter. Maybe that hadn’t been the right thing to do after all.

‘Right, all done for today,’ said Gabriel, as the last sheep ran off to join her naked friends, baaing indignantly. ‘Want a cuppa?’ he asked Dan.

‘Not today,’ said Dan. ‘I still need to get rid of the rotten floorboards in the lounge. It’s going to be months before we’re straight again.’

Luckily for Dan and Pippa, her parents had a large farmhouse on the outskirts of Hope Christmas, so the whole family were currently ensconced there, but the clear-up operation was likely to take, as Dan had said, months. Gabriel had had a lucky escape.

He said goodbye to Dan and he and Stephen headed home. When they got in, Gabriel ran a bath and jumped into it while Stephen watched TV. He was having a rare moment of relaxation when he heard the doorbell ring. Damn. Stephen was under strict instructions never to open the door to strangers. Gabriel leapt out of the bath and,
searching for any clothes that weren’t filthy and smelling of sheep and finding there were none, he threw a towel round his waist and went down to answer the door. Maybe it was Marianne, she’d said she would call.

‘Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes and no mistake.’ Standing in front of him, looking remarkably cheerful and even prettier than he remembered, was Eve.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ she said.