Four Christmases and a Secret

by Zara Stoneley

  First, I need to talk to Vera. Surely these letters are hers? And surely, if she’d been planning on dropping the bombshell herself, she should have some say in all of this?

  I towel dry my hair, pull on my pyjamas and head for the kitchen, feeling relieved and rather proud of myself.

  Then see Ollie.

  I feel sick.

  He is sitting at the breakfast bar, with letters and red ribbon strewn over the surface. The inside of my mouth is dry.

  ‘Hi.’ I can’t think of anything else to say. My head is empty. All I can see are the letters.

  ‘So, were you going to tell me about this soon?’

  ‘As soon as you got home, after I, er …’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Talked to your mum.’

  ‘Which you haven’t? She doesn’t know you’ve got these?’ His voice is even. He doesn’t sound particularly angry, or shocked. But Ollie is good at controlling his emotions when he really wants to.

  I shake my head, clear my throat, croak some words out. ‘You weren’t due back yet.’

  ‘I changed my flight, came back early. I was worried about you.’

  ‘About me?’ I feel a bit light-headed, I think I need to sit down. I stumble my way to the stool.

  ‘You sounded strange on the phone. Awkward. As though there was a problem with us, me.’

  ‘It was …’ I incline my head towards the letters. ‘I didn’t want to tell you on the phone, it didn’t seem …’

  ‘Right?’

  ‘Fair.’

  ‘Oh, Daisy.’

  ‘I thought you might be angry, or sad, or upset, or shocked.’ I hardly dare look at him, but I have to.

  He shakes his head slowly, then puts his hands over his eyes wearily.

  ‘You were angry about their,’ I can’t say affair, ‘about Terence being in love with your mum.’

  ‘I was just a bit shocked, surprised he’d told you and not me. A bit taken aback, but this …’ He sighs. ‘Mum had words,’ he pulls his mouth into a wry smile, ‘about it, after I told her about your letter.’

  He puts his hands down and looks at me properly then, shakes his head again, spreads the letters out.

  ‘This is still a bit shocking though, the extent, the …’

  ‘You’ve read them all? I’ve only been in the shower … How long have you been here?’

  ‘Not long. Twenty minutes, I probably got in just after you went into the bathroom.’ He smiles. ‘I’m a quick reader.’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you on the phone.’ My voice sounds pleading even to my own ears.

  ‘I know.’ He nods. ‘I know, thanks, Daisy.’

  ‘You’re okay?’ I dare to move a bit closer, until our shoulders touch.

  ‘Mum told me they had a fling, she said we needed to talk more when the time was right. She was so upset about his death, I think she needed time to grieve first.’ He shrugs his shoulders. ‘She said she’d loved him, but she loved Dad more. That he was a beautiful man inside and out, but irresponsible, and,’ he smiles, ‘flighty.’ His tone is dry when he speaks again. ‘Not a trait I seem to have inherited.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ I smile back. Put my hand on his knee.

  ‘I guess from the bit she said I had my suspicions, or else why talk to me about it, and not talk to Nancy and Will?’

  I nod. Not chatting to his brother and sister, just to him, would have struck him as odd. He’s not daft, in fact he’s very smart.

  ‘And he did always spoil me a bit.’

  ‘He said in that letter to me that you’d been like a son to him.’

  ‘I know.’ I don’t say it, but it’s typical Ollie would know, he never misses anything. ‘I saw that bit.’ He drapes his arm round my shoulders. His tone thoughtful. ‘He was a great man to have in my life, but as a dad?’ We grin at each other. ‘He’d have made a shit dad, wouldn’t he? Well, wouldn’t he?’

  I laugh I can’t help it. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘There’s no maybe about it! Come on, admit it?’

  ‘Okay, he’d have been a shit dad.’

  ‘It was him I have to thank for my middle name, I mean I ask you, Zane?’ He raises and eyebrow and we grin at each other. ‘Mum said he was quite insistent, strange choice though, she hasn’t got a clue why he picked it!’

  I think about the email from him, when I thought it was from Oz, and have my own suspicions. Uncle T and Vera seemed to like a bit of mischief making over names.

  ‘He’d have never made school sports day,’ Ollie continues, ‘he’d have been off on a jaunt when he should have been taking me out. I mean, let’s face it, can you imagine him changing a nappy?’

  ‘Nope.’ I shake my head. Smiling. ‘But he was a great man. He was kind, generous, caring.’

  ‘He was. But Dad was all that and more, and he’s always been there for me. He wouldn’t dream of divorce, I was always secure, part of a proper family. He’s supported me, encouraged me at school, uni, the lot. He’s been there, Daisy. Always. He’s been my dad. He is my dad.’

  I nod. ‘You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?’

  ‘I have. I just had a what-if moment after Mum chatted to me. I couldn’t help it. Terence was more fairy godmother than dad though, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He was, but without the wand or tutu!’

  ‘And he was a bloody good Uncle.’

  ‘Definitely.’ I nod.

  ‘What were you planning to do with these?’ He lifts a letter up, waves it in the air.

  ‘I don’t know really. I was going to talk to your mum, then you, then,’ I shrug, ‘maybe we should burn them, scatter them where we scattered his ashes? I don’t know.’ I look at Ollie. ‘I think they were mine to find, but yours and your mum’s to decide the fate of.’

  ‘Sure.’ He starts to fold them up. I help. ‘I’ll let her know.’ He puts his hand over mine, and when I glance up, our gazes lock. ‘I miss him, don’t you?’

  I nod. ‘I miss him like hell.’

  Then he wraps his arms around me. I know my eyes have filled with tears, I think his have too.

  Chapter 27

  3 p.m., 20 June

  ‘You won’t wear that dress you wore to your cousin’s wedding, will you?’

  I am over thirty, have a career, am celebrating the fact that I have challenged a planning application refusal successfully and my mother is still telling me what to wear?

  ‘Which dress, Mum?’ I know which one, I just want to hear what she has to say about it.

  ‘The one where you can practically see your ovaries! Talking of which,’ we were? ‘I was so glad you dumped that Tim fellow, have I told you that?’

  ‘Yes, you did Mum, at Christmas.’

  ‘I didn’t like his beard, and his eyes were too close. They always say you can’t trust a man with his eyes too close together. And you couldn’t trust him, could you? The moment he took a turkey vol-au-vent I knew! Didn’t I Stuart? Didn’t I say?’ I can hear my dad mumble in the background.

  ‘So, have you got anything you want to tell us?’

  ‘Well, er, no.’ I am confused. ‘You rang me, remember? About tonight, maybe?’

  We’re having a little get together in the bookshop to celebrate the fact that planning permission has been granted! We will soon be selling coffee and cakes alongside murder and mystery, and we’ll be running book clubs as well – which have proved very popular.

  We’d thought a little celebration would be a good practice run before we have to hold the Christmas Eve party. To be honest, I’m pretty nervous about it, Uncle T put on such a brilliant party last year, it will be hard to live up to expectations. I’ve already started to think about how I’m going to transform the shop into a cosy winter wonderland, full of surprises, like he did.

  ‘Exactly, about tonight! Any little surprises coming our way?’

  ‘Sorry? Mum, are you alright?’

  ‘Of course, I am, dear! I just wanted to make sure I looked the part if there were any littl
e announcements.’

  ‘You know what the announcement is! We’ve won, we’re going to be able to sell cappuccinos, lattes, hot chocolate,’ I pause, racking my brain, ‘chocolate brownies?’ I’m not sure in what way any of these qualify for looking the part. ‘Mini cupcakes?’

  ‘Buns? Buns in the oven?’

  ‘I’m not making them myself, Mum! I’ve been far too busy, I’ve got the newspaper, and sorting the party, and—’

  ‘Well that’s fine then. I just thought I’d ask. Ring doughnuts?’ She emphasises the ‘ring’. Ah, my totally un-subtle mother seems to have a theme going here.

  ‘Er no. Do you think I should have? I mean I’ve gone for cupcakes, and cocktails with a picture of the shop floating on the top.’ I try not to grin. It might be mean, but I am going to act the innocent and refuse to be drawn for once. I have to give her credit, though, she’s never given up on her dream of Ollie and I walking down the aisle together. But, I mean, honestly!

  Ollie and I have been closer than ever recently. We’ve worked together in the bookshop, and since finding out that Uncle T was his father the understanding between us seems to be deeper than ever.

  I love him, I guess I probably always have. I can’t imagine life without him, but getting married?

  ‘Cupcakes, lovely.’ Mum’s tone is slightly disappointed, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t the last time she’ll try! ‘I’ll be off then now darling. We’ll see you later. Love to Oliver!’

  ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘Oh.’ There’s a long pause. ‘Will he be coming to the party?’

  ‘Of course, he will, Mum. It’s his bookshop! He’s just operating this afternoon.’

  ‘Well we’ll see you both later then, together! How nice!’

  ‘How nice indeed.’ I say to Stanley after she’s rung off. ‘Now, what do you think about this, any ovaries on show?’

  7 p.m., 20 June

  ‘You look gorgeous.’ Ollie kisses the nape of my neck and sends a shiver not just down my spine, but to every erogenous zone in my body. My nipples are on high alert which is a bit worrying. Maybe it would have been better to have had my ovaries on display?

  I peer down my front surreptitiously, hoping nobody is looking. I think I still look decent. I’ve opted for a beautiful silk dress, with bright multi-coloured swirls. I loved it the moment I saw it. It’s nipped in at the waist, swirls out over my hips, and sits just above my knee. And it’s got a nice V at the front that kind of hints at boobs but doesn’t shove them in your face. Which is handy, as mine are not exactly a big handful, they are subtler than that.

  When I tried this dress on it made me feel light, and happy, and carefree – so despite being very expensive, and also the type of dress you can’t hide in, I had to buy it.

  I am also wearing ridiculously high shoes which you just have to buy when you see them because they are gorgeous, elegant, leg-lengthening and the sexiest thing ever, then realise they’re really only good for posing in. I have had to teach myself to walk again, and despite spraying my soles with some stuff that will totally stop my feet aching ever again (ha-ha) I already feel like they’ve been stripped of skin and beaten with a hairbrush. Or something like that anyway.

  ‘Cocktail?’ He hands me a delicious looking drink that we have brought a barman in to make to order.

  ‘Oh, Daisy, darling!’ Mum kisses my cheek. ‘Don’t you look the part! Well I always said our Daisy was special, didn’t I Vera? She’s always had so much gumption, takes after me, just had to succeed! She sets her mind on something and just goes for it … oh, oh my goodness it’s the chairman of the golf club, Mr Hepworth, Mr Hepworth did I tell you, I’m her mother!’ I have never seen my mother flap so much.

  She’s already claimed that my looks, brains, sex appeal, success and even the fact that my nails grow quite long before they break, are all down to genes. Hers.

  She’s also inspected the coffee machine, had three cocktails (lethal) and hugged anybody who doesn’t move fast enough.

  ‘She’s happy though,’ says Ollie, and he’s right.

  ‘Oh, there’s no stopping young girls these days is there?’ I’m not sure Dad will ever dare show his face at the golf club again, ‘I mean in my day you were expected to get married, have babies, not go out and have a wonderful career. We always knew she would, did I tell you she wanted to be a vet? This is Ollie,’ she grabs his arm, ‘he was her first crush!’

  ‘He was not!’

  ‘You kissed!’

  ‘We were six years old Mum.’ I say, blushing, remembering the rather hot kiss and grope we had just before unlocking the front door to let the caterers in. They weren’t happy about the fact they’d been balancing cupcakes and crab rolls on the doorstep for ten minutes. ‘You made us!’

  ‘Oh nonsense, there was no stopping Ollie!’ It’s his turn to look uncomfortable. ‘So sweet,’ she hugs him, Dad grins, and I want the ground to open up and swallow me, ‘we’re just waiting for him to pop the question, aren’t we dear?’

  ‘No, we’re not! Can you excuse us please?’ I smile as sweetly as I can at the mayor who has just wandered over, and steer my mother away, towards the crab rolls. She needs to eat. I need to drink. I also need to dunk my head in an ice bucket.

  ‘Well done, Daisy!’ James catches me unawares and kisses me on the cheek. ‘You’ve helped me turn this newspaper round, we’re so much more community centric now, you’ve made me realise that we need more reporters who are interested in where they are rather than where they want to be. Like young Tim, excellent journalist, but he’s after a headline he can sell to the nationals, and that’s not what it’s about, is it?’

  ‘Er, well no.’

  ‘We want our journalists to get out and about, catch—’

  ‘Crabs?’ My mother shoves a plate under his nose. He looks rather startled.

  James looks startled. ‘Well, er, that wasn’t …’

  ‘Crab roll, they’re really rather delicious! And you must have one of those cocktails. Daisy didn’t make them herself you know, she’s busy these days. She’s important! Her boss has her slaving away, and she’s fighting the council and reading books! Isn’t she amazing?’

  ‘She certainly is.’ He grins. ‘You must be her sister!’

  I leave them to it.

  9 p.m., 20 June

  ‘Terence would have been really proud, you know.’ Vera smiles, and glances over at Ollie, who is deep in conversation with his father. ‘Of both of you.’

  ‘I miss him.’

  ‘So do I, Daisy. So do I.’

  ‘This place isn’t the same without him.’ I feel a bit awkward. I haven’t talked to Vera since I found the letters, since Ollie read them. But I know he’s taken them to show her.

  ‘It’s not supposed to be the same, it’ll never be the same, Daisy. You’ve got to let it become a new version, your version. And you’re doing that.’ She pats my knee gently, looks me in the eye and says it all without saying a word. Stanley edges over and licks her hand. ‘He’d have been so proud of you and loved it all!’

  ‘The Christmas Eve party won’t be the same, I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope being here without him. I’m just going to be waiting for him to walk in.’

  ‘Well, you have to do it your own way, don’t you? Don’t try and do what he did, make it yours, yours and Ollie’s, and there won’t be quite as big a Terence shaped gap in the proceedings. We can remember him, we’re never going to forget him, but we’ve got to make a new different version of life without him.’

  ‘Did you love him?’ There’s a long silence. ‘Sorry, sorry I shouldn’t have said, it’s none of my bu—’

  ‘I did, Daisy.’ She kisses the top of my head, then squeezes my hand. ‘For a brief time, I really, really did. He was quite irresistible, wasn’t he? But I loved Charles as well, and he knew that. It’s a shame you can’t live your life twice over and have double the magic, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think I’d be happy just to have one m
agical life.’

  ‘Wise girl! And you will have. You’ve just got to be brave, and as Terence would say, do it your way.’ She smiles then, and there’s a trace of familiar mischief. Ollie style mischief. ‘And hope nobody with different ideas doesn’t cock it up! Now, one more cocktail for the road, before that gorgeous barman tries to escape from your Mum?’

  11pm 20th June

  ‘That seemed to go well, didn’t it?’ Ollie shoves me along the leather sofa in my favourite nook, and squeezes in beside me. Just the way he did when we were eighteen. He tilts his head to one side. ‘Happy? You seem a bit quiet.’

  ‘It was something your mum said.’ I look down at the book on my lap. I’ve always turned to books when I want to escape. But maybe now I need to stop running away. I owe it to Ollie. I know his secrets, his mother’s. But he doesn’t know all of mine. ‘She said I had to be brave, do it my way.’

  Ollie chuckles, and I look up, straight into those gorgeous eyes. ‘I think you’ve done that, this place is a triumph.’

  ‘It’s not just this place.’ I look down at my book again. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Daisy?’

  I put the book down, lean back and close my eyes. ‘You never asked what happened after I got pregnant.’

  ‘You said you didn’t want to talk about it. I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.’ His voice is soft, he slips his hand into mine and I close my fingers round it. He feels warm, solid.

  ‘I think I’m ready now.’ I take a deep breath, lean into his firm, familiar body and he wraps his arm around my shoulders, and rests his chin on my head.

  ‘I found out just after that Christmas Eve party, you know, when we kissed?’ I can feel the vibration of his nod travel through my body. ‘I’d already stopped seeing Josh, it had just been fun, a bit of a joke, we only slept together once, and it was a bit rubbish really. And I was going to uni and he had other plans.’ Oh, I had so many plans. My future mapped out. No time for boys or serious relationships. I pause, to let the words form in my head. ‘When I missed a period I didn’t really think about it, then I missed another and I panicked. I was supposed to be starting my revision, I had a plan and everything.’ I know he’s smiling, even without looking up. He squeezes my shoulder. ‘I did a pregnancy test, then Mum made me go to the doctors to be sure, and we tried to come up with a way to have the baby and for me to go to university as well. I mean, Mum was great, she said it was modern times, she thought we could sort it all, you know go somewhere with a crèche or something.’ We had had a plan. I had thought I could cope, anything was possible. I’d catch up with my revision, the work I’d missed when I was flapping. ‘Then I lost it.’ I blink away the tears that are stinging my eyes, and this time they do go. This time I don’t start crying so hard I feel like I’m never going to be able to stop. Like used to happen. This time I feel strangely relieved to say it all out loud. ‘I miscarried, and it felt like I’d got this massive, gaping hole inside, and I couldn’t stop crying. Nothing was right any more, I felt a complete failure.’ It had been the failure of losing my child that had thrown me completely off course. The loss. I hadn’t been able to think, to concentrate, to make head nor tail of anything. I hadn’t felt a fit person, a person who should succeed or be able to do anything.