Christmas for Beginners: Fall in love with the ultimate festive read from the Sunday Times bestseller

by Carole Matthews

  ‘No. Nothing to worry about. I’ll be up there in a minute.’

  Jess has wound down her car window and I lean on the door. ‘Fancy coming in for a quick cuppa? I have a proposal.’

  ‘Sure.’ She parks up and we walk to the tea room where I make a brew.

  ‘I’ve got the keys to a small cottage,’ I tell her when we’re seated with our mugs of tea. ‘It’s tiny, but very lovely and not far from here. My partner is the owner and he says that you can stay there free of charge for as long as you need.’

  Her eyes well with tears. ‘Why would you do that for us?’

  ‘Because no one should live in fear and, if I can help, I will.’

  ‘Penny always says how lovely you are.’

  ‘We can go and look at it if you’d like.’

  Jess shakes her head. ‘If you say it’s nice then that’s enough for me. Anywhere is better than where we are now. I’d rather live in a tent.’

  ‘Give me a couple of days to sort it out. We could move you at the weekend?’

  ‘He’ll be around then.’ She hangs her head. ‘It would have to be during the week when he’s at work.’

  ‘Friday, then?’

  ‘I’m afraid,’ she admits. ‘What if he finds out where we are?’

  ‘The cottage is behind a high wall with security gates and cameras everywhere. I think you’ll be safe there.’ I take her hand. ‘Safer than you are now. For Penny’s sake, you have to try. This can’t go on.’

  Jess nods. ‘Thank you, Molly.’

  ‘We’ll keep in touch this week. Bev and I will go and get it ready for you.’

  We both stand up and hug each other.

  Penny’s mum looks at me with tears in her eyes. ‘This will give us a new start, a second chance.’

  I smile at her. ‘That’s what Hope Farm is all about.’

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  When Jess goes, I set off for the barn, but get another sharp pain that stops me in my tracks. This feels serious. I divert to the caravan and nip into the loo. There’s blood, a lot of it, like a heavy period, and I know in my heart that the tiny speck of life that was my baby has gone.

  I sit there for a long time, head in hands. It’s gone. I’m not going to be a mum. Shelby isn’t going to be a dad again. I can’t begin to describe to you the emptiness I feel inside. Rationally, I know that the time wasn’t right, that things would be difficult, that, possibly, Shelby wasn’t even the right man for this, but I so wanted this child. I didn’t realise just how much until now.

  I don’t know how much time passes but the next thing I know is that Bev has opened the caravan door and is shouting, ‘Molly? Molly, are you there?’

  ‘In here,’ I call back.

  ‘I wondered where you’d gone. Are you all right?’

  It takes me a moment to answer.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Not really. I’ll be out in a mo.’

  ‘Shall I come in?’ Bev asks.

  ‘No. But stay. Please.’

  Then, when I’ve gathered my wits together, I mobilise myself and get up from the loo. I peel off my clothes and wrap a towel round me before emerging from the bathroom.

  Bev only needs to take one look at my face to know what’s wrong. ‘Oh, my love.’

  ‘It’s gone,’ I say.

  She holds me tight and rocks me. I let out all the emotion that’s been building up over the past month or so and cry my heart out. I should be able to turn to Shelby and am saddened to think that I can’t.

  ‘You will have another baby,’ Bev insists as she lets me go. ‘But next time it will be right. This little one obviously wasn’t mean to be.’

  It doesn’t make me feel any better.

  ‘Go and get a shower,’ Bev says. ‘I’ll pop your things in the washing machine.’

  ‘Thanks, Bev.’

  She touches my arm. ‘Will you tell Shelby?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘You’re the only one who knows.’

  I head for the shower and let the hot water soothe me. I stay under the jets for as long as I can, eyes closed, trying to count my blessings. I’m young, relatively, healthy and I am loved. That’s more than many people can say.

  Bev is still waiting when I come out, clean and dressed again. The kettle has just boiled which makes me smile. Tea, the answer to everything.

  ‘You’ll be all right,’ she says.

  ‘I will.’ It makes me think that I would like another chance to have a baby, but not like this, not now. If I want to try for a child, then I should discuss it properly with Shelby. The next year or more we should concentrate on Lucas and his needs. There’s no doubt that he’ll require a lot of support. I can get my baby fix that way. Plus, if we think about a child, then it should be when Shelby is back from Los Angeles. All very rational, but it doesn’t stop my heart from breaking.

  ‘Go and have a sleep,’ Bev says. ‘Alan and I will sort the kids out today.’

  ‘Sure you can manage?’

  ‘Yeah. They’re all in good spirits today, so there are no problems.’

  ‘Don’t speak too soon,’ I say.

  ‘I did have my fingers crossed when I said it.’ Bev turns me towards the bedroom and instructs, ‘Bed.’

  ‘OK.’

  So I go to lie down and, within minutes, sleep takes me.

  It’s dark outside when I wake up and, for a moment, I’m completely disorientated. As I’m not usually in bed at this time of day, it takes time to work out where I am and why I’m here. Then it hits me again, but not quite so hard. Beneath the sadness, there’s a kernel of acceptance.

  ‘It wasn’t our time,’ I whisper out loud and hope that the baby can hear me.

  Then there’s a soft knock at the door and Bev pokes her head round it. ‘Came to check on you, chick.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say and I know that, in time, I will be.

  ‘I’ve got some visitors for you.’ On cue, the three dogs barrel in and bounce onto the bed to lick me to death. They act as if they haven’t seen me for at least three years and the cuddles of an excited doggy can soothe even the weariest of souls.

  I push them off for a second so that I prop myself up and Bev comes to sit on the bed next to me.

  ‘The kids have gone, the animals are fed and I’ve walked the dogs – not that you’d know from the state of them. It’s impossible to tire this lot out, even the one with three legs.’

  ‘You’re an angel.’

  ‘Try to have a quiet night. If you don’t feel like work tomorrow, we can all cope. Stay in bed.’

  But she knows me better than that.

  ‘I mean it!’

  ‘Physically, I’m all right.’ Emotionally, it will take a little longer.

  ‘You should still go and see the doctor.’

  ‘Yes.’ But we both know that I won’t. ‘Has Lucas come back yet?’

  ‘Haven’t seen him all day,’ Bev says.

  ‘I’m taking that as a good sign.’ I hope that he and Aurora are enjoying some much-needed time together and are making plans for their future. That obviously doesn’t stop me from fretting about him. I’ll give him a call in a while to see what he’s up to. I notice on my phone that Shelby has messaged me, but I can’t reply to him now, not yet.

  ‘I’ve checked your fridge and you’ve got stuff in for dinner. Do you want me to knock something together?’

  ‘I can manage. Really. I’ll just potter.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure I can’t do anything, then I’ll be off.’ She looks reluctant to leave. ‘You know where I am. Call me and I’ll be back in five minutes.’

  ‘I know. Thanks.’

  When Bev goes, I lie in bed, surrounded by dogs, letting my mind mull over all that’s happened. I’m still worn out and drift in and out of sleep.

  Then my phone rings. It’s Lucas. ‘Hi,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He’s slurring his words and it sounds like he’s crying.

  ‘Lucas, are you OK? What’s the matter?
Where are you?’

  There’s snivelling down the line. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Aren’t you with Aurora? What’s happened?’

  ‘I’m in the park,’ he says. ‘Please Molly, come and get me.’

  Then, helpfully, his phone goes dead.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Despite calling Lucas repeatedly, there’s no answer. I don’t know if his battery is dead or whether, for some reason, he’s unable to answer. Why does technology never work when you need it most?

  In a panic, I jump out of bed and hurriedly get dressed, my own problems instantly pushed aside. Still punching his number into my phone, I take Little Dog with me for company and comfort, then head for the car. He said he was in a park, but where?

  Hands shaking, I sit in the driver’s seat googling parks in this area and it’s surprising how many there are. When you live on a farm, there’s not really a great need to go to a park so I’m not familiar with them. I scroll through the list.

  Shitshitshit! Where do I start? Which is the most likely one for him to be in? And where the hell is Aurora? I wonder if they’ve had an argument. Seems the most feasible explanation. Shamefully, I realise how little I know about Lucas’s girlfriend. I don’t have her surname, her telephone number or even know where she lives. I should know these things and I don’t. Damn.

  Taking a few calming breaths, I try to think about how I’m going to approach this. I come to the conclusion that I’m simply going to have to visit each local park, slowly, methodically until I find him. There’s no other way. Checking there’s a torch in the car, I set off.

  Little Dog and I search the first two parks nearest to Hope Farm but that proves fruitless as, quite sensibly, no one is hanging around in a park on a cold winter’s night. I decide, instead, to head straight to the main park in the town. It’s not the best place to be after dark, but needs must. Little Dog, when riled, is an excellent barker and, though he’s tiny, it feels nice not to be doing this alone. I’m sure, if provoked, he’d be a great ankle-biter.

  When I reach the town park a few minutes later, I leave the car in a deserted side street and head through the gates – which, thankfully, aren’t locked. It’s pitch black, freezing and I’d rather be anywhere else than here.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ I say. ‘Do your stuff. Find Lucas.’ Little Dog trots ahead of me, sniffing everything. I follow behind, grateful for the comforting beam of my torch. ‘Go on. Find him.’

  When I reach the main grassy area, I call his name at the top of my voice. ‘Lucas! Lucas!’

  Then I follow the footpath, heading deeper into the worryingly empty park, shouting as I go. My torch beam lights on a scruffy man coming towards me out of the darkness and, for a moment, my heart stops. I hear Little Dog give a low growl and he backs up to be by my side.

  ‘If you’re looking for a kid,’ the man says, ‘there’s a lad up on the playground by himself.’

  ‘Thanks. Thank you so much.’ In different times, I might ask why he didn’t stop to find out what was wrong, but I can only hope that this is Lucas.

  Little Dog, running ahead of me, starts to bark. I put a spurt on and, a minute later, come to the playground. There, sprawled in one of the nest swings, head hanging down, is Lucas. I feel sick with relief that I have found him and that he is safe.

  I go over to him and he raises his head to peer at me. When I shine my torch at him, he winces.

  ‘Hey,’ he says and raises a hand in greeting.

  ‘What the hell, Lucas? You scared the life out of me.’

  ‘Soz.’ He goes to get out of the swing and only succeeds in tipping himself onto the floor. Little Dog goes to lick his face and Lucas lies there, inert, while he does.

  I help him up. ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘Very,’ he says, struggling to focus his glassy eyes.

  Of course he is. And, now that I look, there’s a plethora of Stella Artois cans around the area. ‘Are all these yours?’

  ‘Yes, Mummy,’ he slurs.

  I pick up the cans and put them in the nearest bin. It’s a lot of cans.

  ‘What the hell has happened? Have you fallen out with Aurora?’

  He takes a few unsteady steps. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Lucas spits as he staggers.

  ‘OK.’ He’s clearly in no fit state to have a reasonable conversation now. ‘Let’s get you home first and you can tell me all about it later.’

  So I help him up and he puts his arm round me and sags heavily against me while we slowly make our way back to the car. Little Dog thinks it’s a great game and dashes around us both.

  ‘I love you,’ Lucas slurs. ‘Did I ever tell you that I really do bloody love you?’

  ‘I love you too. Just keep walking,’ I say to him. ‘One foot in front of the other. You can do it.’

  ‘You’re my best friend,’ he insists.

  Then he stops and is violently sick in a flowerbed. I think this is going to be a long night.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Lucas sleeps in the car, snoring loudly, all the way back to Hope Farm. He only rouses as I get out to open the gate.

  ‘Where are we?’ he mutters.

  ‘Home,’ I tell him and very grateful I am for that. At least I found him without too much trouble and didn’t spend half of the night tracking him down. I am thankful for small mercies. Bev and Alan will be furious that I didn’t call them out, but how could I? They already do so much for me and I didn’t want to worry them further. With Alan’s health scare, they should be having a relaxing time too.

  I help Lucas across the yard and into the caravan while Little Dog runs round our legs trying his best to trip us both. Inside, I make Lucas a strong cup of peppermint tea. He sits on the sofa, head an inch from the table, and sips at it.

  I wasn’t sure that he would keep it down, but it seems to be going OK, so I risk asking, ‘Do you want anything to eat?’

  ‘Bacon,’ he slurs. ‘Bacon sandwich.’

  ‘We’re vegan,’ I remind him.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Toast?’

  He shakes his head and seems to regret the sudden movement.

  Sitting opposite him, I give him a long look. I think, after his sleep in the car, he appears a little more sober. ‘Now then, what’s to do?’

  It takes a while for him to organise his lips to form the words before he says, ‘Aurora and I have broken up.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Just as I suspected. ‘These things happen. I’m sure it will blow over. You’re both under a lot of pressure at the moment. There’s a lot to think about with the baby and everything else.’

  He looks up and tears fall from his eyes, tracking slowly down his cheeks.

  ‘Oh, Lucas.’ I go and sit next to him. This time, he doesn’t resist my embrace, he wraps his arms around me and holds on tightly. I stroke his hair. ‘Does it all seem too much? We can help. We need to tell your dad as soon as possible and then we can both be here to support you.’

  He sobs louder.

  ‘It’s not ideal,’ I offer. ‘But it’s not insurmountable either. I don’t want you to worry. I know it’s a daunting thing, a big step in both of your lives, but you should try to enjoy it.’

  He prises himself away from me and takes in a great gulp of air. ‘The baby’s not mine.’

  ‘What?’

  Lucas turns huge, tearful eyes to mine and repeats, ‘It’s not mine.’

  I’m struggling to take this in, so goodness only knows how Lucas feels.

  ‘She’s been seeing her tutor at college. For months. Probably longer. She wouldn’t say. He’s married and already has two kids.’

  I don’t voice what I’m thinking. So she needed a dad for her child and duped Lucas? This is terrible and Lucas’s pain feeds into my own.

  ‘She never thought he’d leave his wife, but he has. They’re going to play happy families together and I’m binned.’ He looks at me bleakly. �
�He’s as old as my fucking dad.’

  ‘Oh, my darling boy.’ We hug each other again.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he says. ‘I feel like I did when Mum died.’

  ‘It’s only natural. You love her.’

  ‘I really wanted that baby,’ Lucas cries. ‘I know everyone thinks I’m too young, but I’d have been a great dad. And, all along, she knew it was someone else’s. How could she do that?’

  ‘That’s cruel of her,’ I tell him. And it is. What a terrible thing to do to someone, especially someone as young and vulnerable as Lucas. I feel like I could kill her with my bare hands – perhaps that’s my mothering instinct coming to the fore. But then I think that Aurora is young and foolish too and will soon find out that life is more difficult than she can have possibly imagined.

  ‘I believed her,’ Lucas wails. ‘I believed all her lies.’

  ‘I know you won’t want to hear this now, but she wasn’t the right girl for you. You’ll look back on this and realise, but I know how it must feel now.’

  ‘What if I never find anyone else to love?’

  ‘You have years and years ahead of you. Plenty of time to meet someone else to love and to have a child with.’

  ‘But what if I don’t? What if I leave it too late, like you?’ Lucas has no idea how much that hurts. How could he? I have to bear my loss alone. ‘That won’t happen. I promise you.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m ever going to have sex again. Or at least not until I’m twenty-five.’

  ‘The last bit sounds like a very good idea,’ I joke in an attempt to add levity to this awful situation and he gives a weak, snotty laugh.

  ‘How will I ever trust anyone?’ He looks so crushed that it’s heart-breaking.

  ‘In time the pain will fade and you’ll learn how to handle it – just as you have so brilliantly with losing your mum.’

  ‘I went to the park and got royally pissed,’ he points out.

  ‘I don’t blame you for that. Though please never do it again without telling me where you are.’

  ‘It seems as if nothing ever works out well for me,’ he sobs. ‘All I want is to be loved and for someone to love me.’