Driving Home for Christmas

by Emma Hannigan

  ‘Okay, Mum. I won’t be long,’ Lainey said, bristling. ‘Dad offered to get started on Kizzy. I didn’t assume he would.’

  ‘No, of course you didn’t,’ Holly said tightly. ‘So I’ll see you shortly?’

  ‘Great,’ Lainey said, trying to keep her frustration from her voice. She poured some tea and hacked a chunk of bread off a loaf, then meandered back to her room to get dressed.

  By the time she made it outside, Paddy had a rather excited Kizzy ready to go. ‘Thanks, Dad. I didn’t mean you to do the whole job for me.’ He gave her a leg up, and she gathered her reins.

  ‘Ah, sure it’s like old times when you were little,’ he said. ‘I like to do it for you. Especially seeing as your brother and sister don’t ride out now. Enjoy yourself and try to stay on.’

  Excited hounds poured out of a horsebox and Kizzy danced on the spot. ‘Good girl,’ Lainey said, patting her neck to calm her. Her mother appeared beside her.

  ‘The dragsman’s gone on ahead to lay the scent,’ Holly told her, ‘so you’ll be pushing off in five minutes.’

  The whinnying of the horses mixed with the hounds’ yelping gave Lainey butterflies.

  ‘Tally-ho!’ the Master shouted, and blew on his horn.

  ‘See you later, Lainey!’ her father called after her, as she trotted away.

  Once they headed out across the field Lainey felt her shoulders relax. When she and Kizzy were out together, she always felt carefree and happy. She’d missed Grandma this weekend. They usually shared a slice of birthday cake and several cups of coffee together. Maggie could be rather abrasive, as many who had experienced her sharp tongue knew, but Lainey had always seen a different side of her.

  The hunt was fast and furious but there were no casualties. By the time they returned, and Lainey had brushed her mare down, it was lunchtime. She gave Kizzy a bucket of nuts and went into the house.

  Sadie had appeared, as she did most Sundays. Officially she was there to help, but she always had lunch too. ‘I’ve run you a nice deep bubble bath,’ she said, as Lainey came in. ‘How was it?’

  ‘Great, and thanks for the bath. How far away is lunch?’ she asked Holly, who was at the table reading the papers with Paddy.

  ‘Just as soon as you’re ready. The meat is out resting,’ Holly said.

  ‘Are Joey and Sophia still here?’ Lainey asked.

  ‘They had to head back to Dublin in a hurry,’ Paddy answered. ‘Seems young Sophia had a lot of training on.’

  ‘I see,’ Lainey said. ‘Well, I’ll eat enough to make up for them.’

  ‘Can you eat enough to make up for Grandma too?’ Holly asked acidly. ‘I still don’t understand why she’s chosen to abandon us and live so far away.’

  ‘She didn’t abandon us, Mum, and I’d love her to be here, too, but she’s entitled to have fun just like the rest of us.’

  ‘It was you who softened her, Lainey,’ Holly mused reflectively. ‘She was a tough old bird. I suppose she got that way when Daddy died. You were the one who broke the ice that had formed around her heart.’

  ‘Indeed you were,’ Sadie confirmed. ‘Maggie did everything with one hand when you were born. She brought you here, there and everywhere. She talked to you as if you and she were the same age. She told you her innermost thoughts. You were her life blood.’

  As her daughter and Sadie chatted, Holly allowed herself to dwell on the past.

  The whole village and town had known how fabulous Maggie was with the baby, but Holly often wondered if that help had cost her in the long run. She didn’t feel as close to Lainey as she did to Joey and Pippa. Here she was, thirty-one years later, and there was still an invisible barrier between them. She blamed her mother for it and had unleashed her anger eleven months previously. This was something she’d never been able to admit. Not even to Paddy.

  ‘What do you mean you’re going to live with Sid?’ Holly had asked, aghast.

  ‘It’s probably the most frivolous thing I’ve ever done but I’m getting on, Holly,’ Maggie had said. ‘If I don’t do this now I’ll regret it.’

  ‘God forbid that you should have any regrets in life, Mum,’ Holly had scoffed.

  ‘I don’t have time to wait around for you to decide whether or not you can forgive me, Holly. I’ve made my decision. Try to be happy for me,’ Maggie had said.

  Her mother’s unusually gentle tone had disarmed Holly, until she discovered how soon Maggie would leave.

  ‘It’s not up to us what your mother does, love,’ Paddy had said, on the night before Maggie caught her plane.

  ‘Oh, don’t I know it?’ Holly had raved. ‘But what about us, Paddy? Mum is making out she’s being all noble and wonderful handing us the deeds to Huntersbrook House. As usual she’ll emerge looking like a superhero.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Paddy looked perplexed.

  ‘Oh, what’s the use? Forget it. I’m just being awkward as usual. I suppose it’s just that Mum’s always been here,’ she’d fibbed. ‘I’m a typical only child.’

  Now as she watched Lainey’s face light up, reading her grandma’s card, a raw nerve twanged inside Holly for the umpteenth time.

  6

  It’s the Most Wonderful

  Time of the Year!

  Pippa wanted to put her hands over her ears and rock, making mildly insane crooning noises. It was only Monday morning and the week had got off to a disastrous start. She’d just pressed play on her answer machine and every caller was irate.

  As she sat on her recently acquired sofa, positioned alongside a nest of tables to face the stupidly large flatscreen TV, she wasn’t experiencing the same glow as she had when the friendly chaps had delivered all of it a couple of months previously.

  She’d seen the advert that showed where you could go and pick out the contents of a living room and get a giant TV thrown in. They’d promised she wouldn’t have to pay until the next decade, or some time way off in the future at any rate. It would’ve been rude not to take them up on the offer. She hadn’t bothered about the price at the time, but she knew it was buttons.

  In Pippa’s view, they’d been extremely sneaky and underhand about the whole thing. Now it appeared, from the snotty voice message, that they wanted some of the money immediately – as in today.

  Joey, Pippa thought. He’d sort it. He could tell them to bog off with their request for payments. Did they not know there were only a handful of shopping days left until Christmas? Where was the season-of-goodwill thing?

  ‘Did you read the terms and conditions?’ Joey asked moments later, when she’d explained the situation to him.

  ‘Of course I didn’t!’ she scoffed. ‘I watched the TV advert, went to the store, signed the bit of paper and all the lovely new stuff arrived. Why should I have to hire an accountant and lawyer to buy a sofa? Nobody takes any notice of terms and conditions,’ she reasoned. ‘Why else do you think they’re written so small at the bottom of the page?’

  ‘You’re precisely the type of numbskull these companies are hoping to trap. In the real world, you’re meant to check these things. The fact of the matter is that you have to pay. Furniture and electrical equipment aren’t free. Even to you.’

  ‘I see. Well, you’re not much bloody help, are you?’ Pippa spat. ‘Thanks for nothing, Joey.’

  ‘Hey! It’s not my fault.’ Joey sounded angry. ‘I didn’t tell you to do it, and if you’d asked me before now I could’ve explained what you were letting yourself in for. I give up, do you know that? I don’t understand women. Never have and never will.’

  ‘Okay. Jeez!’ Pippa said. ‘Congratulations! You’ve bitten my head off. Don’t choke on it.’ She slammed the phone down. She’d no idea what was eating Joey but he’d want to get himself sorted. He wasn’t usually that cranky in fairness to him. But she’d wait for an apology from him all the same.

  The second message was from Jay, all whiny and needy. She wasn’t able for him any more. He had been good craic in the beginning but the relation
ship had run its course. Fair enough, they’d been together over a year, which was a personal record for her, but Pippa figured all good things must come to an end. Jay and she were another example of that theory. She was also of the opinion that once something was over it was dead in the water, so what was the point in prolonging the pain? Jay was a good guy but she’d moved on. It happened. She texted him: Hi J – we need 2 talk. Can u come 2 my place this avo @ 3?

  He answered immediately. He always answered on the first ring or would text back instantly. When she’d first met him she’d thought that was really cute. Now it seemed a bit too eager. As she pictured Jay, with his neat brown hair, Italian suits and smart, brightly coloured shirts, she knew he was too clean-cut and predictable for her. She’d enjoyed her time with him but he was too bloody nice! She didn’t want to date Jack the Ripper, but she felt she could do better.

  I’m working – it’s Monday, remember? Jetlag obviously getting 2 u! C u @ 6 ok? Xxxx

  Great, she thought. I’ll have it sorted by seven. Cool c u then J She did a smiley rather than a kiss to start the ‘dumping’ process, and ticked that box on the ‘to do’ list in her head.

  The next message was from her landlord. Now he was a first-class git. Any correlation between him and humans was purely coincidental. He wore head-to-foot grey nylon and spoke in a zero-punctuation monotone. Pippa wondered if he breathed through a secret hole in the back of his head.

  ‘This is a voice message for Pippa Craig,’ he began. Duh, Pippa thought, making a face. Nobody else lived here – who else could it be aimed at? Miss Piggy?

  ‘Your rent is currently overdue by two weeks as per the agreement you have until the end of this week to submit the full amount or I will be forced to ask you to remove yourself from the flat [which he pronounced fla-sh] please call me by end of business today to confirm that you are in a position to uphold your end of the agreement obviously it would be ideal for both parties if we can get this sorted and have the payment processed as it’s getting very close to Christmas.’

  Pippa had to marvel at his ability to say all that in one breath. Perhaps he’d been practising, by sinking under the bathwater and holding his breath for as long as he could, since the age of four.

  The final two messages were probably the worst. ‘Good morning, Miss Craig, Ryan here from Credit Control Services. For your information, your cards have been frozen.’

  He asked her to call immediately, as did the man who had left the last, and worst, message.

  ‘Miss Craig, this is Sean from Bank of Ireland. There are a number of transactions pending and your account is overdrawn so I would strongly advise you to be in touch forthwith. If these pending sums are to be met, we’d need to have some immediate funds lodged.’

  She’d make some coffee and phone the bank bloke and the credit card shark. God, these people were so dramatic! If the stupid promotions company hadn’t fired her, everything would have been fine. This was their fault. They’d been so up themselves from the start that it was inevitable the whole thing would end in tears.

  ‘How was I to know people would want actual names of who won the bloody iPod?’ Pippa had yelled.

  ‘If you’re standing in a shopping centre dressed in a carrot costume and asking people to sign up for a loyalty card, stating there are a number of prizes on offer, the company has to stand by its word,’ Mr Nugent had yelled back. ‘We have a legal obligation to do as we promised. You cannot help yourself to one of the prizes and tell one of the punters how brilliant you’re finding it.’

  Pippa knew she probably shouldn’t have asked for time off to go to New York at that exact moment. She should’ve stuck to her original idea of not telling Mr Nugent and getting Lainey to phone and say she had a tummy bug. But hindsight was a great thing.

  She was in a right mess. She had to sort her life out. She’d clean up her current financial disorder and start the new year with a whole new attitude.

  Pippa Craig was going to become organised and businesslike.

  She put on the kettle. Everything would run more smoothly with a cup of coffee.

  She returned to the sofa with her mug and dialled Sean at the bank. ‘Ah, hello, Pippa Craig here,’ she said, in her most professional voice.

  Sean wasn’t at all like his voicemail. He turned out to be rather an aggressive little man. Well, Pippa had no idea how tall he was but she had strong suspicions, from his angry terrier-like attitude, that he had a very small penis, regardless of his height.

  She had to hold the phone away from her ear as he insisted on going through her account – very loudly.

  ‘Right so,’ Pippa said, at the end of it. ‘I’ll get it back on track.’ She wished she hadn’t bothered to phone him.

  The woman she had to chat to at Credit Control Services was even worse. ‘Can you give me your Visa card number and I’ll deal with your query?’ she asked, sounding clipped.

  ‘Well, I’d prefer to talk to Ryan, seeing as he left the message.’

  ‘Ryan is dealing with another client right now so I’ll help you. This is Frieda,’ she said.

  ‘Right,’ Pippa began. ‘It seems I’ve fallen behind with my repayments—’

  ‘Just quote your credit card number, Miss Craig, and we’ll deal with this,’ Frieda interrupted. Pippa did so, then listened as Frieda made lots of typing noises. ‘Your last payment was eleven weeks ago,’ she deadpanned.

  ‘Is it that long?’ Pippa said, trying to sound jokey about it. ‘Ah, you know yourself, time flies when you’re having fun, eh?’

  ‘I need a percentage of the money paid off by Friday or we’ll be forced to pass your debt to our legal department.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Pippa said, dropping the routine.

  ‘Unfortunately that’s the stage this account has reached,’ Frieda said, bereft of emotion.

  Pippa put the phone down. She hadn’t had a notion that she’d racked up so much debt.

  She’d known her funds must be running quite low but not to this extent. Two years previously she’d had a really good job in PR. She’d been well paid and in the boom times she’d secured a long-term lease on the upscale two-bedroom apartment overlooking Herbert Park. Now, confronted by the white walls with the designer prints, she began to panic. When the PR company had folded, they’d given her a really decent redundancy package. She’d added to that little nest egg by doing the odd promotional job. She’d honestly figured she was still financially sound.

  She thought back to her recent trip to New York, and bit her lip guiltily. She hadn’t gone too mad there. She’d really only bought jeans. And the bottle of champagne. And the makeup, and a few bits and bobs in Macy’s.

  Fleetingly she considered phoning her parents and asking them for a short-term loan. But she was twenty-three. She needed to sort herself out. Flicking through the freebie paper that had been pushed through her door, she circled a couple of job adverts. This recession lark was all in people’s heads: there were loads of jobs on offer. People just didn’t want to do them.

  Lucy was always great for calming advice so Pippa phoned her.

  ‘I can’t talk right now, Pippa,’ she said. ‘My boss has just called me in for a meeting and I’ve a pile of emails to answer.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Sorry, Pippa, but I’m genuinely busy.’ Lucy sighed.

  ‘It’s all right for some,’ Pippa said grumpily.

  ‘Why don’t you come into town and we’ll go for a coffee?’ Lucy offered. ‘I’ll see you in Starbucks at half past one. How’s that?’

  ‘You’re brilliant,’ Pippa said, instantly cheered. Now she could go and have a shower and feel as if she’d accomplished something.

  Her feeling of euphoria didn’t last long. By the time Lucy flew into the café that lunchtime things had taken a nosedive.

  ‘You look like you’ve just come from Santa’s grave.’ Lucy chuckled. ‘Sorr-ee! I thought that was q
uite witty of me. Not to mention seasonal.’

  ‘Some of us aren’t in the mood for jokes, or Christmas for that matter,’ Pippa snapped.

  ‘Whoop-di-do,’ Lucy said tartly. ‘I think I need a coffee. Want one?’

  ‘You bet.’ Pippa plonked her elbows on to the empty table dramatically.

  ‘Would you like something to eat?’ Lucy called from the spiralling queue.

  ‘Yeah, get me whatever you’re having. I’m too depressed to think,’ Pippa shouted back. She gazed around the café. Lots of people in work suits had shopping bags shoehorned under their chairs and between their knees as they glanced anxiously at their watches. Some people had all the luck. They clearly had well-paid jobs and were off spending money like water, buying gorgeous Christmas gifts for their loved ones. All she had to look forward to this year was living in a homeless shelter. Life just wasn’t fair.

  ‘Here we go.’ Lucy had arrived back at the table.

  ‘You’re a star, Luce,’ Pippa said, as the other girl balanced the tray in one hand and attempted to transfer their bucket-sized cups of coffee and sandwiches to the table. ‘I’m so depressed. All I’ve had is stress since I got back from New York. It’s as if I’m being punished for having a crappy couple of days away.’

  ‘Well, it was hardly crappy,’ Lucy said. ‘I thought we had a pretty amazing time. You’re probably just experiencing post-holiday blues. It happens.’

  ‘I’m in dire straits, Lucy,’ Pippa blurted. ‘I’ve bills coming out my ears. I feel like a criminal. Every time the phone rings it’s another person out to get me. I tried to get a job this morning and every advert I answered was a dead end.’

  ‘Things are rough out there right now,’ Lucy said. ‘Loads of our friends are in the same boat.’

  Pippa sipped her coffee. ‘Ugh!’ she said. ‘You didn’t put any sugar in this.’