The Mother of All Christmases

by Milly Johnson

  Annie was the last to arrive at Di’s birthday do on the Saturday afternoon. ‘Sorry, couldn’t find a parking space,’ she said to the others, already seated at a long rectangular table and drinking tea.

  ‘Park your bum,’ shouted Di. ‘We were only killing time until you arrived. Lee’s paid for this so you won’t need to get your purse out. No Palma?’

  ‘No, she couldn’t make it,’ said Annie. Palma had said to tell them why she wasn’t there and why she wouldn’t be going to another Christmas Pudding Club. Whilst she had still had hope dancing in her heart, she had felt part of them, carried along with them as they journeyed together towards motherhood; but now, she felt cut adrift, she’d be a spectre at their feast and she didn’t want to dampen their joy. Annie had cried for her every one of the three days since Palma had told her. Not in front of her, but thinking about her at night, talking to the baby that was living inside her, reading to her, bathing with her . . . Annie’s heart broke for her.

  ‘We’ve ordered the full shebang,’ said Cheryl, budging up so Annie could sit down on the bench.

  ‘I have never had a cream tea before,’ said Fil. ‘Am I in for a nice experience?’

  ‘Bloody marvellous,’ said Di. ‘And this place does the best. Pass that teapot down to Annie, Cheryl.’

  ‘I haven’t had a pot of tea in ages,’ said Annie.

  ‘It’s magic, I tell you. I totally lost the taste for it, but I’m really enjoying this today,’ said Eve.

  ‘How’s the leg?’ asked Annie.

  ‘Bit sore, but I’ll live. I’m more upset about my dress. Whopping great unmendable rip in it, and it was my favourite.’

  The waitress came over with two stands full of sandwiches, cakes and scones and then returned a minute later with two more, then jam and deep bowls of clotted cream.

  ‘Oh, my.’ Fil’s huge eyes opened wide as dinner plates. ‘This is a banquet.’

  ‘Don’t you have these in Nigeria?’ asked Cheryl.

  ‘I think some of the big hotels in Lagos have started to put them on the menu but I haven’t been. I have had an African afternoon tea in London, though.’ She reached over for an egg mayo finger and the ecstasy showed on her face when she bit down. ‘It wasn’t like this.’

  ‘She makes these scones with clotted cream, does Patricia the owner,’ said Di, nodding at a woman behind the counter. ‘And she gives you butter. I can’t stand an afternoon tea where they don’t give you butter for your scones.’

  ‘Greedy bugger,’ snorted Raychel.

  ‘Which do you put on first, cream or jam?’ asked Fil.

  ‘Depends on the weather,’ replied Di.

  ‘The weather?’ asked Fil.

  ‘Aye, whether the cream’s nearest to my hand or the jam.’

  Fil threw back her head and laughed. The joke wasn’t that funny, but the atmosphere was sunny and warm and hitting her jolly spot.

  ‘I’m so glad I met you all,’ said Di. ‘It’s been a roller-coaster this nine months but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

  ‘You and your husband seemed loved up on Wednesday,’ said Eve.

  ‘Aye, it’s better than ever now. We’re all friends again. We’re having Daniel as one of the godparents. He’s going out with my sister now and she’s one of the godmothers, so it seemed right. Mend bridges and all that. Pretend it never happened. Sweep it right under the carpet.’ She sighed then and smiled. ‘But I’ve got some cracking memories of a night in with a bottle of olive oil and a can of squirty cream.’

  Eve and Annie exchanged telling glances and then quickly broke eye contact before they started giggling.

  Annie joined in the banter but half her mind was on Palma. She should be here with them, talking about epidurals and Di’s love life and laughing until it hurt about breathing techniques and worrying about poohing when pushing whilst the tea flowed and the scones were buttered. She left it to chance whether or not she should say something – if she was meant to, the opportunity would present itself, she thought. If not, she was meant to stay quiet.

  When the third refill of tea arrived, Di said, ‘If we wrap up some of these scones, Annie, can you take them to Palma? Might make her slap on a bit of weight and look as fat as the rest of us.’

  Annie took a deep strengthening breath. Chance had turned up and given her the opening. ‘There’s something wrong with Palma’s baby. That’s why she’s stopped coming to the meetings.’ She had their full attention.

  ‘What’s up,’ said Raychel. ‘Not serious, is it?’

  So Annie told them.

  *

  Effin’s mind had spent a lot of time in the past since the meeting with his counsellor. He’d only admitted to one person how much Stu’s treachery had hurt him. As much as he had loved his little brother, Stu had been as close as his twin. When Stu and Angharad had their brief interlude, Effin had got really drunk one night on his dad’s home-made cider and ending up kissing Mai Jones whom Brynn was sweet on. Brynn thought it was hilarious. He said Effin had saved her from him because she was obviously a whore, which he thought was a bit harsh. He’d felt so guilty that he’d broken down and cried on Brynn’s shoulder, said it was no excuse for what he did with Mai but he was missing Stu and Angharad terribly. Brynn had said that he was best rid of both of them.

  The therapist had made Effin realise that he was – and he hardly dared admit this even to himself, because it shamed him – jealous of Davy MacDuff, who reminded him of Stu Stirling with his cocky confidence and likeability. That’s why he didn’t want to take to MacDuff and he certainly didn’t believe he had his back. It was easier to suppose that MacDuff was double-bluffing him, making him think he was on his side when really it was him sabotaging his life. He couldn’t trust him because it would be like trusting Stu all over again.

  But still, it set him off wondering again what had really happened between Stu and Angharad to make him join the forces and her to run off to Llanelli.

  *

  There wasn’t a dry eye around the table when Annie had finished telling them about Palma, about her houseful of toys and baby clothes, about the letters she was going to write to children who would have a life because her daughter had lost hers. Because she was going through it all alone.

  ‘And that’s why she broke up with the boxer? Because she didn’t want to burden him with it all?’ asked Eve.

  ‘That’s why.’

  ‘And he doesn’t know any of this?’ asked Cheryl, black rivers of mascara running down her face.

  ‘He doesn’t. I wanted to tell him but Joe said I shouldn’t interfere,’ said Annie.

  ‘Fuck that for a lark. He needs to be told,’ said Di, her neck jutting in and out with indignation like an angry emu.

  ‘I’m torn, Di. It’s Palma’s secret to tell, not anyone else’s, that’s what my brain is saying to me, anyway. But my heart . . .’ She didn’t need to finish off the sentence for it to be clear which of those two organs had the louder voice.

  Di had no inner contradictions. ‘If he had accepted this baby as his own, then surely he should have the right to know?’

  ‘I agree with Di,’ said Fil. ‘Palma has the whole facts, Tommy doesn’t have any. He should be given the information – the truth.’

  ‘I have to agree too,’ said Eve, putting her hand on her very pronounced mound of stomach. ‘Just imagine if Tommy is giving her space until the baby’s born and then hoping they’ll get back together and be a family. Palma hasn’t given him the option to prepare for losing the baby.’

  ‘Don’t shoot me, but I’m throwing this in the mix,’ said Raychel. ‘What if Tommy finds out and it doesn’t bother him and he thinks that he’s had a lucky break?’

  ‘Then at least he’s made a decision based on all the facts,’ said Fil.

  ‘And she’s well rid because he’s a bleeding twat,’ added Di.

  ‘I don’t think he is a twat though,’ said Annie. ‘I think he adored her.’

  ‘Someone has to
tell him,’ said Di. ‘And I know who.’

  The others waited for her to enlighten them.

  ‘Us,’ said Di.

  There was a bomb of silence dropped in their midst and then Annie spoke.

  ‘You’re absolutely right, Di. I felt it from the off.’

  ‘Mother’s intuition,’ said Di. ‘I bet he’ll be at the gym now,’ she went on, taking her phone out of her bag. ‘He’s bound to be. He’s got a big fight coming up so he’ll be training every day, twice a day.’

  ‘How come you’re so clued up?’ asked Eve, forcing a fork down her tight bandage to scratch an itch on her leg.

  ‘My dad was a boxer. His nose went from one side of his face to the other but he loved it. He was never quite good enough to win the belts so he became a professional heavyweight sparring partner. He worked with some of the greats: Joe Bugner, Henry Cooper, Marvin Hagler. There’s not much you can tell me about the boxing world that I don’t already know.’

  She keyed in a number on her phone and lifted it to her ear. ‘Lee, what’s the name of the gym where Tommy Tanner trains? Get the number for me and ring me back.’

  ‘Are we really doing this now?’ said Fil, grinning wildly with excitement.

  ‘Why not? It’ll be open, so if he isn’t there, we’ll go back tomorrow when he will be. And we’ll keep going back until we get hold of him.’

  Di’s phone rang and she answered it whilst scrabbling in her bag for a pen and pulling a napkin towards her. ‘Got it. Ta love,’ she said. ‘Come on, girls. We’ve got some fate to interfere with.’

  Chapter 61

  Di pushed open the front doors of Tanners Boxing Gym and the other five heavily pregnant women followed, waddling like ducks behind the big momma. The gym was a massive space and well stocked with equipment. One man was skipping, two were punching bags, one sitting down lacing up a red boot. There were two elevated boxing rings, one empty, the other with two men sparring and two more at one corner watching, guiding.

  ‘Excuse me,’ shouted Di and all activity stopped. ‘Can you tell me where we can find Tommy Tanner?’

  ‘Wahayyy,’ red boot guy cried. The men outside the ring shared a joke the women couldn’t hear and the two boxers inside it chuckled. The heavier-set of the corner men walked over. ‘Can I help you, ladies?’ He had his arms wide as if preparing to shepherd them out.

  ‘He thinks we’re fans,’ said Raychel. ‘He’s going to fob us off with a signed photo.’

  ‘We want a word with Tommy Tanner, please,’ said Di.

  ‘He’s a bit busy, I’m afraid. Can’t be interrupted. Can I help?’

  ‘No,’ said Annie, jumping in and not leaving it all to Di. ‘Only Tommy can.’

  ‘Sorry, ladies,’ said the man, smile slipping a little now.

  ‘That’s him, isn’t it?’ said Di, pointing at one of the boxers in the ring. ‘I recognise his legs.’

  ‘You’re fans, I presume?’ said shepherd-arms.

  ‘I went to his last fight when he battered the shit out of Brendan Barlow in the eighth round. I know this one coming up against Frank Harsh is even more important because it’s all right winning a title but it’s defending it successfully that will mark him as a champion. Harsh’s got a long reach so you’ll be using sparring partners with the same. Harsh is also better at distance so Tommy will have to get into his personal space and hit him close up, won’t he?’ Di gave him a triumphant smile that said so don’t class me as a pregnant bimbo.

  ‘You know your stuff,’ said shepherd-arms, blowing the air out of an impressed pair of cheeks.

  ‘We’re not here for a pair of autographed shorts for a raffle prize is my point,’ Di went on.

  ‘We need to speak to Tommy,’ said Cheryl, stepping forward.

  ‘Unless you tell me what it’s about—’

  ‘It’s Tommy’s business only. Private,’ said Annie, cutting him off.

  The man scratched his nose, appealed to Di. ‘Look, you’ve just said how important—’

  ‘What is it?’ shouted Tommy, who had stopped his sparring.

  ‘Nothing,’ said shepherd-arms.

  ‘Tommy Tanner, come ’ere,’ Di yelled and her voice carried right to the back of the gym. ‘It’s you we want. You’ll thank us.’

  Tommy shrugged at his partner in the ring, climbed out of it and came towards them. He was grinning, clearly amused.

  ‘A private word with you, if you don’t mind, Tommy,’ said Di, giving shepherd-arms a losing-patience look of her own.

  ‘G’is a minute, Neil,’ said Tommy. Shepherd-arms, or Neil as he was now, melted away from the group and went back to the ring, shaking his head. ‘What’s up, girls?’ He was expecting a request to sign a photo for a dad’s birthday or a charity request for a couple of tickets, but not what came next.

  ‘We’re friends of Palma’s,’ said Annie.

  Tommy’s smile slid from his face. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘I’m afraid she isn’t, lad. Not at all,’ said Di.

  *

  Tommy didn’t even knock. He walked straight into Palma’s house and stood on the doormat taking the whole room in: the stacks of boxes, the bags taking up every inch of space. And Palma, sitting at the table, trying to marry receipts to goods. Her eyes registered him but the information was on a delay to her brain because it was seconds before she said his name. And the same amount of time lapsed for him before he said hers.

  He was still in his shorts and boxing boots. He’d grabbed his half-zip from the locker along with his car keys and driven here on automatic pilot. He hadn’t known what to expect when he walked in, he wasn’t even sure he had understood properly what the six pregnant women were telling him. All he knew for certain was that he had to get over to her, without thought getting in the way.

  He didn’t know what to say to her. It had been two months since he’d seen her and in that time he’d tried to convince himself that he didn’t care but his eyes swallowed her up and relayed the sight of her down to his heart which wanted to leap out of his chest to her.

  ‘Is it true? About the baby?’ he said, his voice robbed of strength.

  ‘Who told you?’ she said, her own voice barely above the volume of her breath.

  ‘Your mates came to the gym. I’ve just left them there. They’re all pregnant.’

  Palma’s head turned towards the receipt in her hand. Boots. Three packets of Pampers for newborns and some baby lotion. She couldn’t get a refund on the lotion because she’d spread it on her hands, closed her eyes and sniffed and imagined she was holding a baby with the same gentle perfume.

  ‘I don’t know what they told you.’

  ‘That she can’t . . . that once you . . . once you give birth . . .’ He gulped. It felt as if his throat had swelled up.

  Palma bit her lip. ‘Yes, it’s true. There’s no hope. I thought there might have been, which is why . . .’ Her eyes swept across all the baby items. ‘I went a bit loopy for a while, Tom.’

  He took a step towards her. ‘I’m not surprised.’

  She turned her head away from him, tried to wipe her eyes without him seeing her but his were locked on her.

  ‘Your friends said you didn’t want me to know.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she replied. She couldn’t look at him. Someone else she couldn’t have, like a cruel illusion.

  ‘Why, though? I don’t get it.’ Her friends had told him why, but he didn’t buy it. There had to be more to it than that because it was plain stupid.

  ‘I didn’t want you bogged down with all this. A baby that wasn’t yours and then . . .’

  ‘You know I bonded with her as well. I wanted to see her when she came out. I’d have still looked after her . . . and you. Will she be born . . . al . . . alive?’

  ‘I’m going into hospital when I’m thirty-eight weeks for a caesarean. If I go to term she might not be. I can hold her till she goes,’ said Palma, tears sliding down her face. ‘She won’t be in any pain. Then they’ll take her a
nd . . . they can use some of her to help other babies so they don’t die.’

  ‘Why can’t another baby help ours,’ said Tommy, his face creased up now. If he’d been in the gym, he’d have hit something hard.

  ‘Because she’s been unlucky. There’s nothing more to it than that. It’s nothing I’ve done, nothing I haven’t done. She’s just not destined for this world.’

  Slowly, Tommy cleared the space remaining between them.

  ‘Let me be part of the life she will have, however short it is,’ he said. ‘Let me be part of yours. I’ve been so fucking miserable, Palms.’

  His arms opened and closed around her and Palma’s heart both rejoiced and broke a little more at the same time.

  Chapter 62

  Davy, Jacques and Eve were all having Sunday lunch together at the old farmhouse, Jacques was cooking. Eve was tired now and Jacques thought she should stay at home and rest from now on but she’d protested. At least she had until that morning. Now she wasn’t sure she had more than another week left in her to work in an office. What she really wanted to do was scrub things: cupboards, skirting boards, wash bedding, generally fettle and she thought that this coming week might be her last at Winterworld for a while.

  Arfon had taken over the running of things from Effin. Jacques hadn’t been as forgiving of Effin as Eve had and he was glad the man was out of his sight. If only he’d taken time off after the cigarette incident his wife wouldn’t be hobbling around on crutches, and he didn’t even want to let his mind dwell on how much worse it could have been.

  ‘How’s the new boss?’ Eve asked Davy, passing him what was left in the bowl of roast potatoes. She couldn’t get enough of them at the moment. She had started to wonder if it was possible to overdose on them. She was eating for twelve, never mind two.

  ‘Well, I don’t get as many dirty looks or haggis comments now,’ Davy grinned.

  ‘Oh yes, he used to call you a haggis, didn’t he?’ Eve laughed and then reined it in when Jacques shot her a look. Nothing to do with Effin tickled any part of his funny bone presently.

  Davy waved the haggis comment away with a flap of his hand, ‘It’s the way he is. No one takes offence. Although, I must admit, he has a strange charm he doesn’t even know he possesses, which is why he gets away with so much. I’ve punched men for far less.’