The Mother of All Christmases

by Milly Johnson

  ‘I never thought it would cause anyone to get hurt,’ said Dylan, openly sobbing now.

  ‘Dylan, boy, the park sign falling off could have killed someone and you could have made the Missus lose her baby. You ought to thank your lucky stars that didn’t happen. And I’ll have that set of keys you’ve got. Borrow mine and have a set cut did you?’

  Dylan blew out a long breath. He didn’t have to confirm it.

  ‘You could use your skills for good not bad, boy.’

  ‘I’ll have to leave, won’t I?’

  ‘You will. But I have another unit in France doing up a manor house. Why don’t you take up my offer of a job there. There will be more. In fact I don’t know what I’m doing in this fucking freezing hole full of grown men walking around dressed as elves and snowmen when I could be there myself.’

  ‘I don’t deserve that,’ said Dylan. ‘I don’t know myself anymore.’

  ‘Time to be another self then,’ said Effin. ‘Time to be the self you should be and not the one anyone else wants you to be.’

  Effin caught sight of himself in the long mirror by the door as he saw Dylan out and for a split second he looked just like his dad, which made the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. He wouldn’t go far wrong if he was channelling Goronwy Williams. His hero.

  ‘Effin Williams,’ he said to his reflection in the mirror. ‘Private detective, philosopher, businessman and, above all, sane and well: I salute you.’

  His dad had always said you should be able to look at yourself in a mirror and see a person you were proud of; and if you didn’t, change until you could. Goronwy Williams had loaded his son’s wings with nothing with flight dust and Effin hoped he’d done the same for his own boys.

  Chapter 68

  Raychel was out Christmas shopping in Meadowhall with her real aunt and her two adopted ones. Saturdays there were mad enough as it was, and Saturdays near Christmas were manic, but it was the only day on which they were all free.

  ‘This was a bloody stupid idea,’ said Janey as they stood in the queue in Debenhams. ‘I don’t even know why I’m here. I’ve done all my Christmas shopping online.’

  ‘You’re here for our scintillating company,’ said Helen. ‘And a slap-up lunch.’

  ‘Everywhere will be packed,’ grumbled Janey. ‘We won’t find a table.’

  ‘We will,’ said Elizabeth. ‘And if we don’t we’ll drive off to a nice country pub. You okay, love?’ She turned to her niece who was stretching whilst holding her back. Raychel was very large now. She looked as if she had nicked half the stock from Debenhams and was hiding it under her dress.

  ‘I’m ready for a sit-down,’ she answered.

  ‘Look, we’re parked just outside here. It’s madness to walk to the other end to the food court. Let’s do the country pub option,’ suggested Helen.

  ‘I’m good with that,’ said Raychel. ‘This is the last thing I have to buy.’ She held up the burgundy dressing gown and stroked it. ‘Ben will look like Noel Coward in this.’

  ‘We’ll get him the matching pipe and slippers,’ smiled Elizabeth. ‘What the hell . . .’

  She moved backwards, feeling the splash on her legs.

  ‘Oh, shit.’ Raychel stood stock-still, not knowing what to do. Water was pooling around her feet.

  ‘Your waters have broken,’ said Helen.

  ‘I am going to die with embarrassment,’ said Raychel.

  People in the queue had moved back so Raychel was totally exposed to what felt like a hundred pair of eyes. ‘I can’t move,’ she said.

  ‘No need to gawp, love,’ said Janey, to the woman with the gob-dropped-open stare. ‘She’s pregnant and her waters have broken. It’s all perfectly natural. Nothing to see here.’

  ‘I’ve been standing in this queue for ten minutes, I’m not leaving until I’ve bought this dressing gown,’ said Raychel stubbornly.

  Elizabeth grabbed it from her hands and pushed in front of a man heading for the end till.

  ‘Sorry, emergency. Could you ring this through so my niece can go and give birth, please?’

  ‘Nothing like getting your priorities right,’ said Helen, linking Raychel’s arm and leading her off out of the store, her shoes squelching horribly with every step.

  ‘A mop might be an idea,’ Elizabeth said to the till assistant, scooping up the dressing gown and then moaning Janey-style at no one in particular, ‘Once upon a time you used to get your shopping free if your waters broke. Now they don’t even give you a carrier bag.’

  They shoehorned Raychel into the back of Janey’s SUV.

  ‘I’m going to wet your seat,’ she hollered.

  ‘Sod the seat. Let’s just get you to hospital.’

  ‘I’ll ring Ben,’ said Raychel, but she dropped her bag on the floor of the car and let loose a few choice expletives.

  ‘What’s this pillock doing?’ barked Janey, as the Mercedes in front decided to block her exit. She couldn’t reverse because she had a Renault up her backside.

  ‘I’ll ring Ben,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Working in Leeds,’ said Raychel. Her stomach was rock hard with Braxton Hicks contractions except they’d never hurt before and now they were becoming uncomfortable.

  Janey blasted her horn at the Mercedes, which had absolutely no effect.

  ‘It’s waiting for that parking space,’ Elizabeth growled. ‘They’re like gold dust at this time of year so it’s not going to budge until it’s got it.’

  ‘I think my contractions might have started,’ said Raychel.

  ‘Right,’ said Janey, pulling on the handbrake, throwing off her seat belt, snatching something from the recess in the dash and opening the door. ‘I’m going to shift this bell-end in front if I have to shove the car out of the way myself.’ She marched – battle-ready – over to the driver’s window of the Mercedes and rapped hard on the glass. The middle-aged woman on the other side of it tried to ignore her.

  ‘Police,’ said Janey, flashing an open black wallet with a badge and ID. ‘Move this car immediately. You’re causing an obstruction and we have a medical emergency.’

  The Mercedes immediately started edging forwards and Janey swaggered back to the car, grinning.

  ‘What the hell did you say?’ asked Helen.

  ‘I held this up,’ she passed the wallet to her. ‘Our Robert’s toy police warrant card.’

  ‘Impersonating a police officer, Janey Hobson, you naughty girl.’

  ‘Right, we’re off. Finally.’

  In the back Raychel laughed. ‘These are definitely not Braxton Hicks. Ohhhhh my.’

  ‘Remember your breathing,’ said Elizabeth. ‘In through your nose, out through your mouth. Make a sound, that helps.’

  ‘Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Yes, you’re right, it does.’

  ‘Christmas sodding traffic, spare me,’ said Janey. ‘Roads full of idiots. Why isn’t he moving when the lights are at green?’ Janey blasted her horn again, which had the desired effect.

  Elizabeth started speaking into her mobile. ‘Ben, it’s Elizabeth. Raychel’s in labour . . . Just leaving Meadowhall, we’re on our way to the hospital, so meet you there. I’ll ring again when we land . . . yes, I’ll tell her.’ She turned to Raychel. ‘He says hang on until he arrives.’

  ‘Shove a cork in it,’ chortled Janey.

  ‘Ooooooooooo,’ said Raychel.

  ‘Good girl. You’re doing fine.’

  ‘They’re doable. I’m okay,’ Raychel assured them.

  They were on the motorway, at last. The other carriageway was gridlocked but their side was fairly clear.

  ‘Do you remember when we all turned up for your first, Hels,’ said Elizabeth as she rubbed Raychel’s back. ‘You were pulling on the gas and air pipe and you’d thrown your TENS machine in the corner of the room.’

  ‘I remember. It was totally useless,’ said Helen, clicking her tongue.

  ‘All I can say is that you must have liked gas and air, seeing as you
went back three more times,’ said Janey.

  ‘Mother Nature makes you forget the bad bits, otherwise no one would ever have more than one,’ replied Helen.

  ‘It didn’t make me forget, that’s why I only had one,’ said Janey, overtaking a Porsche. ‘If I get a speeding ticket, I’m splitting it four ways.’

  ‘I saw my dad that day,’ said Helen. ‘Clear as anything. Standing at the side of me telling me to push. You can tell me it was the pethidine but I know he was there.’ She smiled.

  ‘I’m seeing nothing but stars and floating things. I think my eyeballs have burst,’ said Raychel. ‘Here comes another one.’ And she took in a very deep breath.

  ‘I couldn’t go back to being fertile,’ said Janey with a sniff. ‘Now passing junction thirty-six, one more to go. These days I spend all the money I don’t need for tampons on gin.’

  ‘Yeah, ’cos the menopause is really plain sailing,’ tutted Helen.

  ‘I never thought I’d be old enough to go through menopause,’ said Janey. ‘I thought it was something old women did.’

  ‘It is,’ Elizabeth threw back. ‘We are ancient old bags.’

  ‘I know one thing, I’m getting too old for these dramas,’ said Janey.

  ‘Are we nearly there?’ asked Raychel after a few minutes trying to remember what sort of breathing she should be doing. She kept confusing her birthday cake candles with her thin threads.

  ‘We are, love. I’m signalling to come off as we speak.’

  Elizabeth’s phone rang. ‘Hello . . . Ben . . . just coming off at thirty-seven, where are . . . bloody hell, are you in Concorde? . . . Okay, love, see you in about quarter of an hour.’

  Soggy and in pain, Raychel went straight into the labour suite and daughter Beth was born forty minutes after her father arrived. He was not helpful during the breathing exercises.

  Raychel decided they needed to reassess their contraceptive choices from now on.

  Chapter 69

  Effin showed his visitor through to the back of his house and retook his seat on the patio at the side of a blazing fire pit, huge pot of tea on the table in front of him, next to a pair of giant binoculars. He looked like a man at peace with himself. He looked like the Effin Williams Jacques knew.

  ‘This is a hell of a view, Effin.’

  ‘I like to sit here and gaze,’ he said. ‘And watch the birds of prey hunting for mice in the fields.’ He nodded his head towards a kestrel fluttering in the air. ‘Very underrated birds. But to watch them properly, you have to become part of the silence . . . Cup of tea? Freshly brewed.’

  ‘Thank you, yes, black, please,’ said Jacques. He wouldn’t have thought that Effin and silence went together, but in this tranquil spot – maybe, just maybe.

  ‘Take a seat. I’ll fetch you a mug.’

  ‘I expect you can guess why I’m here,’ said Jacques when Effin had returned from the kitchen.

  ‘I can.’

  ‘I . . . we . . . are dumbstruck. Effin, I should never have doubted you. I should have done more invest—’

  ‘Shhh now,’ Effin poured out a tea and set it on the table.

  Jacques pulled a letter out of his pocket. ‘I could take this to the police.’

  ‘Can I see?’

  Jacques handed it over. Dylan had admitted trying to trash Effin’s reputation and given a profuse apology for what had happened with the grotto floor. The letter was very heartfelt and honest.

  ‘What on earth was going on there?’ asked Jacques.

  ‘A lot of history, that’s what. I’ll tell you about it one day when you’ve got a spare year,’ said Effin. He let out a long breath. ‘Hardest work of your life, raising a child. You and the Missus will realise that when yours arrives. It’s like owning a fresh piece of sculptor’s clay and it can be made into something beautiful with time and care or it can be twisted into a mess. But if it’s the wrong shape and you get to it before it’s fired, it can be remodelled, put straight.’ Effin smiled. ‘Once that baby comes out you’re bound to it all your life. You’ll worry about it and want the best for it. It’s the ultimate lesson in selflessness is parenthood, if you do it right – and mark my words, you’ll get so much wrong. But you’ll do a much better job of it if you put your child before yourself, because if you do it the other way round, it’s not fair.’

  ‘And did you untwist that piece of clay?’ asked Jacques, taking a sip from the tea.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Effin, passing the letter back to Jacques, who put it on the fire and watched the flames eat the words.

  Chapter 70

  Hello Little One

  I’m the mum of a baby girl who sadly died just after she was born. She wasn’t able to live herself because she was too poorly but she could help to make other children well. You are one of those very special children.

  It broke my heart to lose her but to know that my Gracie could be there for you mends it more than you could ever imagine. To me, it means that her time in this world, short as it was, was a truly wonderful gift.

  Life is precious and amazing – so be happy. Leap high, laugh lots, dance, sing loudly, kick footballs into goals, love – most of all enjoy.

  With my fondest and best wishes for a long and beautiful future.

  Gracie’s mum.

  It was hard writing letters to children Palma didn’t know, children that might benefit from the death of her own baby. It was hard writing them when she could feel Gracie shifting – living – inside her.

  As soon as Tommy had gone for his morning run, she had taken out her new writing pad and hand-written seven letters. It had to be done. She slid the folded sheets into their envelopes, sealed them and then she put them in her hospital bag which was waiting at the side of the door. She hadn’t thought she had any tears left inside her until today, but she had. Oceans of them. All she could hope for was that Gracie was born at the weight the doctors needed so she could live through others who needed her. Palma could just about bear it if that happened.

  Chapter 71

  The last Christmas Pudding Club meeting consisted of the two midwives, Cheryl, Annie and Eve.

  ‘Raychel had a little girl – Beth,’ announced Cheryl, showing them the photographic proof on her phone. ‘Seven pounds five ounces. I popped up to see her. Her waters broke in Debenhams apparently. She gushed over six pairs of Christmas shoppers’ shoes.’

  They all had a good laugh at that.

  ‘I’ve had such a brilliant time at these meetings,’ said Annie. ‘Do thank Dr Gilhooley for his brainchild.’

  ‘You’ll meet up at clinics and mother-and-baby groups. Then there’s Aqua Babies with Shona if you fancied it,’ said Sharon. ‘It’s not goodbye, just au revoir.’

  ‘Now that will be great fun if Fil goes,’ said Annie.

  ‘Have you all stopped working now?’ asked Chloe.

  ‘I flipping have,’ replied Cheryl.

  ‘Me too,’ said Eve. ‘I’m too tired and fat to even say the word work. I may possibly be too fat to walk down the aisle, and don’t tell my husband this, but I think I’ve had better ideas than to renew my vows when I was nine months pregnant.’

  ‘I’m still working,’ said Annie. ‘We have an intensive week of giving it all we have to finish off the rest of our orders then we are closing down until January.’

  ‘How’s Palma, Annie?’ asked Eve.

  ‘I’m seeing her on Saturday for coffee,’ said Annie. ‘She sounds okay on the phone but . . . you know.’

  The nods of the others said that they did.

  ‘We have these for you all,’ said Sharon, reaching in her bag and bringing out a blue foolscap file. ‘I was hoping to give them out to everyone on the last meeting, but I’ll send them on to the others. Not sure what I should do about Palma’s.’

  She presented the three pregnant ladies with an A4 envelope each. Annie opened hers up and pulled out the piece of card inside.

  This is to certify that Annie Pandoro was a member of the Christmas Puddin
g Club. Chloe, Sharon and Dr Gilhooley had signed it at the bottom next to a cartoon of a woman whose pregnant stomach was a Christmas pudding.

  ‘It’s a silly daft thing I know,’ said Chloe and excused herself because she was filling up.

  ‘I think it’s lovely,’ said Annie. ‘Let me take Palma’s and I’ll see how the land lies when I’m with her.’

  Her new-found mother’s intuition would guide her to do the right thing, she was sure of it. It hadn’t let her down so far.

  *

  On Saturday Joe picked Palma up from the house on Rainbow Lane because he wouldn’t allow Annie to drive anymore. Plus she couldn’t fit comfortably behind the steering wheel.

  Palma had a discernible bump now and her face had plumped too but she was so very pale. Her usually bright blue eyes were dull and though she smiled at them as she walked out to the car, sadness seemed etched into her face.

  ‘I hope I don’t say the wrong thing,’ said Annie.

  ‘Just be yourself,’ advised Joe. ‘Be the Annie she knows.’

  Palma opened the car door and clambered into the back.

  ‘Hello love,’ said Annie, cutting herself off before she said, Are you all right?

  ‘Hello, you two,’ she replied.

  ‘Is Tommy training?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Twice a day. Runs in the morning, spars at night.’

  ‘I might have a few pounds on him to win,’ said Joe, pulling out onto the High Street.

  ‘You should, Joe. He’s determined.’

  Annie opened up her mouth to speak and then closed it again. She’d been about to ask if she’d heard about Raychel. Everything that was in her head was related to babies.

  ‘How are the Christmas Pudding lot? Anyone had their babies yet?’ Palma asked eventually, before the silence choked them all.

  ‘Erm . . . well . . . everyone now but me and Cheryl and Eve.’

  ‘What did they have?’

  ‘Di had twin boys, Fil had a girl and Raychel had a girl.’ She didn’t go into the detail she would have had it been Eve in the car.