Now, as I get through the front door, the troop of kids that have bombarded me with hugs and kisses disperse to make way for the big guns. Mum emerges from the kitchen with oven gloves on her hands, directing the big show.
‘Tess, be a love and put Aunty Beth’s presents under the tree. Take that snowsuit off the boy, he’ll be way too warm.’
Just through the door, Mum. Give me a moment.
Heads pop out from the kitchen to wave hello: Dad and Lucy, who unsurprisingly looks like she’s already cracked into the drink. I wave my arms around at them as Meg and her husband, Danny, emerge from the lounge with glasses of what looks like Baileys. They both look different for some reason. Happier? Or are they already drunk?
‘Merry Christmas, middle sister,’ she says. Definitely drunk, with the way she’s slurring.
‘Ditto, biggest sister. Have you met the new little ones?’ I ask her.
‘I cried, quite openly. They now think I’m Crazy Aunt Meg.’
‘We all cried.’
I see she’s dying to ask me about Will but she knows now’s not the time.
‘Right, give me a cuddle with my only nephew.’ She hands her Baileys to Dan then takes Joe from me, heading back into the lounge.
‘Drink for you? Or I could put brew on?’ Danny asks me. His tone is always broad and lacking in articles. I channel him whenever I’m monologuing Mr Rochester from Jane Eyre to my GSCE lot.
‘Aye, will take that off your hands,’ I say, stealing the Baileys from him. Hearing Polly’s wails from next door, he excuses himself and I’m left standing there in the hallway alone. I take off my coat and then look up to see a set of eyes peering down at me through the banisters. I wave. It’s little Cleo. I climb the stairs and go and sit next to her. I’ve only met her a few times since she’s joined the family. Grace wanted to do things by the book and not barrage them. Cleo’s English is limited but her eyes always study everything in such detail, like she’s looking deep through the colour of my irises, trying to read my soul. Downstairs is a hive of noise and frenetic activity. It’s safer here, eh? I’ve spent a lot of time here on these steps myself. It was a good place to eavesdrop, but also to slide down on my belly. Cleo pulls my palm out, runs circles in it and nods at me.
‘Oh, this one. Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…’
She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce.
‘One step, two step, tickle me under there.’
I pretend to collapse into giggles and her face broadens into laughter. I can’t help but be won over. I don’t know your whole story yet, but I know your mum and she is so going to take such amazing care of you.
‘What are you two doing there?’ Grace appears from the bedroom, carrying bright-eyed and adorable Maya, who looks freshly changed and napped, ready to take on the day.
‘We’re doing the teddy bear in the garden.’
‘I did that fifty-six times this morning.’
Ah, the joyful rituals of motherhood.
Grace sits next to me and starts stroking Cleo’s jet-black hair as she clings onto her new mum. ‘Is it madness down there?’ she asks.
‘When is it not?
She looks over at my sense of caution then puts a hand in mine. Maybe the Christmas spirit, the one in the air as opposed to the one in my glass, will buoy me. I really need it to.
‘It’ll all be good. Come and see the “back massager” that Mum put in Dad’s stocking.’
‘Do I want to?’
‘I don’t want to know where she got it from, but Lucy will show you how it actually works.’
Oh my days. It’s a vibrator, isn’t it? I’ve warned Mum about buying stuff randomly on Amazon. We stand up and Cleo puts her arms out to me to carry her. Alright then, little one. She wraps her legs around my hips and rests her head on my shoulder. It’s the best present anyone could give me.
‘I remember Pops got drunk after a night out once, came home and peed on our Christmas tree and Granny Fi chased him around the house and he had to hide under Aunty Beth’s bed.’
Lucy has all the nieces gathered around her for the Callaghan tales of legend session. The youngest sister does have a titanic memory and a flair for vivid storytelling, digging deep into our dramas of old. The nieces all cover their mouths and Emma sits there shaking her head. Every year, they get a new story, from the time Meg tried to pierce her belly button with a stapler to when Lucy decided she wanted to live alone in her room in protest against the new washing-up rota and survived off bottled water, Kit Kats and did all her business in a bucket.
‘Did he really hide under your bed?’ Eve asks me.
‘I think he actually slept under there in the end,’ I say.
Naturally, Mum and Dad aren’t here to defend themselves but are in the kitchen beavering away and arguing about oven temperatures. Meg and Danny, meanwhile, have been assigned table-laying duties. There’s sixteen of us here today so it’s a bumper, supersized Christmas with enough gravy to fill the Thames. I watch as they do bad dinner party maths around the table while we entertain this crew of children we seem to have acquired. Danny looks confused.
‘If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?’ He points to Meg.
‘Count again, addition was never your strong point,’ Meg tells him.
I smell turkey but also quite a fair bit of bacon, as Meg accused Mum of a dry turkey a few Christmases ago and so Mum now douses the bird in fatty substance like sun cream on a baby to prove a point. I glance over at Joe in his nest of cousins, trying to work out who they all are. It’s all girls, Mum. I can’t work out if that’s a good thing or not.
Our attention is soon diverted by the doorbell and Emma goes to answer it. I don’t even question who it may be as the old folks have all sorts of neighbours and friends nearby. As the figure appears though, I look up and the room goes quiet.
‘Uncle Will!’ Eve shouts in excitement.
Emma follows, looking a bit sullen, obviously not knowing what the right call is to make. He holds bags of gifts in his hands and wears his parka, a checked red shirt (Christmassy) and his standard Converse. Grace, who is sitting on the sofa with Cleo, Maya and Violet, looks over to me, concerned. Lucy refuses to even turn around and look at him. Meg and Danny freeze, still cradling armfuls of crackers.
‘Merry Christmas, everyone,’ he says.
Someone needs to say something, fast, because at the moment all I can hear is my own heartbeat and the sound of Michael Bublé telling me to have a ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’.
Danny goes over to shake his hand. ‘Alright there, Will?’
Meg glares at him. Please, someone say something.
‘Are you here to do magic then?’ asks Eve.
Will bends down to her level. ‘Not sure I know any magic, Eve.’
‘Yeah, you do. Because when we were driving up here, Daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Beth. Show me what you did.’
‘EVE!’ barks Danny.
Lucy can barely contain her giggles.
‘But I like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,’ she says to her dad. He widens his eyes, ordering her over.
The Callaghan sisters all smile smugly, knowing a six-year-old just shamed him on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for that one.
Will turns and suddenly sees Grace. ‘Oh my God, you’re back!’
Grace isn’t so stony-hearted to not reply and stands up to give Will a warm hug, as he studies the new children on the sofa. He doesn’t even ask who they are but bends down and shakes their hands, introducing himself. Cleo giggles. Violet comes over and nestles into me. A strange silence still hangs in the air like static.
‘Why are you here?’ I suddenly say.
He looks at me, almost hurt.
‘Because I invited him,’ says a voice emerging from the kitchen. Dad. ‘Will, I’m glad you could make it.’
‘Thanks for the invitation, David.’
Lucy stares daggers at
Dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by little people. I look at Emma and Meg, their faces both reading concern. My mother suddenly enters, still wearing oven gloves. That’s not a happy face.
‘Oh. It’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?’
Will stands there, rubbing his forehead awkwardly. So Mum wasn’t expecting him either? You’re a brave man, Dad. You didn’t consult the chef? I scan over the table. Is that why there was also an extra place set out?
‘Fiona, I invited him.’
‘Why?’ she enquires.
‘Look, if it’s weird. I don’t want to cause a stressful situation. I can leave,’ Will says.
‘No, stay,’ Dad replies, calmly.
‘Did you think about Beth in all of this?’ Meg says.
Mum, for once, agrees with Meg and folds her arms, which is no mean feat in her oven gloves.
‘Well, I was actually thinking of Joe.’
Joe looks up at everyone. I was fine, Pops. I was just nibbling away at the edge of this tissue box. The whole room goes silent; even the Christmas music has clicked off.
‘It was actually Joe who told me to get both Will and Beth in the same room to see if they could try and work things out.’
‘Joe told you…? Have you been drinking, David?’ my mother exclaims.
‘Hand on heart, that’s what Joe told me to do.’
All the nieces giggle.
‘You see, Joe told me about two people he cares about, the most important people in his life, stuck in some first-year-of-parenting rut. He wanted them to see that despite falling out of love with life, with themselves, he didn’t think they’d fallen out of love with each other.’
That’s the thing about Dad, he can come out with things occasionally which are undeniably super cute, that radiate with such heart that it makes it impossible for us to get angry with him. Joe looks up at all of us, wondering when it went quiet. And why Meg might be crying.
‘You really are a bloody idiot, David,’ my mother whispers.
His face is all ruddy and blushed. He probably has been drinking – Pernod would be my bet – but his words spill into this Christmas air with such clarity.
‘And to be fair, it’s getting quite boring you two not getting your acts together. Sort it out.’
Will blushes. Dad might just be right. We’re stuck this side of a wall, and we need to get over the other side, wherever that is.
‘So, Will. I’d like you to stay for turkey. I’d like you to talk to my daughter and spend time with your son and us. If you want to, of course…’
Will nods. ‘I’d like that a lot.’
Will then digs into a gift bag and pulls out a box. Oh no. No no no. Not here, not now. Emma looks absolutely horrified at the cheesiness of it all. Don’t do that here. I open the box. Meg exhales with relief. Inside is a small keyring with a lemon on the end. Lemons. A tear slides down my face. No one else gets it. No one else would.
‘Did Uncle Will buy that because he’s been a complete and utter lemon?’ asks little Violet.
‘Yes,’ says Lucy. ‘But really they’ve both been lemons. Biggest lemons I know.’
Track Twenty-Five
‘I See You Baby’ – Groove Armada (1999)
We leave my parents’ house that night at nine. All the nieces were starting to tire and as is the way with Meg and Mum, the tension was starting to build after a competitive game of charades where they fought over the appropriate way to act out the Tube station Angel. I’ve got one right in front of us on my bloody Christmas tree, Meg, and there you are flapping your arms around. Of course I’m going to think you’re a bird.
It was a day littered with gifts, hugs, laughs, chocolate coins – and Will was there. It was a strange day because there was no peace, no time to sit down and really talk things out. Instead, my family bombed him with distractions and food and noise. Mum, naturally, ignored him and made him sit at the kids’ end of the table. Lucy made it clear to him that he’d have to pay some sort of penance for the kiss at least. But there was a lovely moment too where we were all opening presents and I found out my lot had all chipped in some money to get me some new flooring for my flat. The card read PLEASE GET RID OF YOUR CRAP CARPET. And I cried. I mean, I was pretty tired at that point but it really was the best thing they could have given me. Lucy also got me a three-month free trial at my local gym. But it’s a free trial? Emma asked. You got it for free. How is that a gift? And we all laughed. Especially when we found out that Lucy had got Emma the very same thing.
It’s always bone-shatteringly exhausting coming home at the end of a day of celebration, especially a Callaghan Christmas, so it’s strange that this is now our moment of quiet to finally talk: sitting in the car stuck in some bizarre roadworks that have appeared on the A316. We’re too tired to say much, too shocked to go over what’s happening here. I stare over at Will in the passenger seat. He slips his fingers over mine on the gearstick.
‘Do you think your mum will ever forgive me?’ Will asks.
‘Well, you’re not Emma’s Simon. And she’s always disliked Danny for taking Meg away, so there’s hope.’
‘She made me a cup of tea.’
Did it smell of wee? I’ll keep that to myself. There’s a pause as I negotiate a roundabout.
‘I feel like there’s so much to tell you,’ I tell him.
‘Grace is back. That’s amazing.’
‘That too, but also I want to ask you about work. And I want to explain that kiss with Sean.’
‘There’s no need. Sean rang me up to explain. He wanted to meet up for a drink and apologise. He was really good actually. He bollocked me for doing what I did. No one had really done that yet. No one had taken me to task on it and I deserved that. I know I was a hypocrite about Sean but I panicked. You were such good friends. I seriously thought I’d lost you for a minute, for good. I’m sorry, B.’
‘Yeah, you kind of were… Sean did that?’
‘He’s a better mate than you’ll ever know. I’m sorry I thought there was something going on there. I guess I had such a low opinion of myself, I thought maybe you’d chosen to be with someone better.’
‘Never even crossed my mind. All I ever wanted was just the band back together again.’
That much was true. The car stops and we appear to be gridlocked on this bloody road. Who puts five-way temporary traffic lights on during Christmas?
‘I now realise I just dug a bigger and bigger hole for myself the longer I left not coming back. I just assumed you’d be angry, that you wouldn’t want me around.’
‘There were times when I didn’t. I told you to leave when…’
‘My knob wouldn’t work?’
‘Well, yeah…’
We both smile. We tried to cement us back together with awkward sex. It was a mistake all round.
‘That time I was hurt, I felt completely rejected. But I did need you around. I needed you here to help me with Joe. No matter how you were feeling, we needed to work out our problems together, as a family.’
‘I was selfish. I get that now. After Sean’s rant, your dad told me that much. He was the only one from your side who rang me to have a chat.’
‘What did he say?’ I enquire, curiously.
‘He called me a chuffing idiot and that I’m missing out on the best thing, a family, a life with you. He called you his favourite daughter.’
‘He says that about all of us…’ But my heart glows to think of Dad behind the scenes, the quiet director of this crazy multi-act play, gifting us all with his love and wisdom.
‘I think he also wanted a big Christmas reunion to wind up your mother.’ I laugh. He looks at me intently. ‘I missed you so, so much. I just didn’t know how to communicate any of it. I was rehearsing big, romantic speeches to photos of you on my phone before I went to bed. Kat found me one night and told Pete he needed to call a doctor. But still, I didn’t do anything and I’ll always be sorry
for that. I’ll always regret giving you months of pain. For letting you and Joe down.’
We glance at each for a moment. The apology, the clarity of thought from him is a start but this isn’t over. He has many nappies to change as penance.
‘I quit my job. I start at some new set-up in Clapham after the New Year. No more standing desks and commutes.’
‘Is that what you want?’ I ask, knowing I never wanted us to interfere with his love for his career.
‘No more ego-driven, unpredictable Sam and her ridiculous demands so it’s the right decision for now. I’ll have to start wearing chinos but it saves my sanity, brings me closer to you guys.’
‘Chinos will work if you wear them with a monocle.’
He laughs and just to hear that noise makes me sit back, relieved. Will fiddles with the stereo. He plays the CD in there and starts to smile as Liam Gallagher’s voice booms out.
‘You did listen to it then.’
‘Maybe. I put it on occasionally. “Songbird” is a bad choice though. I’d have gone with “She’s Electric” or “Champagne Supernova”.’
‘I like the lyrics of “Songbird” more.’
‘But I have a family full of eccentrics. It makes perfect sense. If you’re going with “Songbird” then you go Fleetwood Mac. But then “Landslide”… You also put in “Shallow”.’
When A Star is Born first came out, we watched it together at the cinema and sobbed. We then came home and drank in the characters’ honour, learning the parts of that duet and singing it (badly) while we heated up oven chips, still crying and raving about what a revelation Lady Gaga was. I can tell we’re both thinking back to that memory. I hear our clutch making weird squeaky sounds and Will mumbles away at lyrics. He never gets them quite right but it’s part of his charm.
‘I read your letter too,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you.’
‘I couldn’t think what else to do to win you back. I wanted you to know I was serious about everything.’
‘The sisters liked the penmanship.’
He turns his head, sharply. ‘Everyone read the letter?’
Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?: An absolutely laugh-out-loud and feel-good page-turner Page 29
