The Christmas Calendar Girls

by Samantha Tonge

  Davina noticed a bundle of papers covered in my writing, to one side. She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, they’re nothing. Just the notes I scribbled down when I got back from meeting that friend. His tips were really useful. Providing Christmas themed refreshments was his idea.’

  ‘May I?’ She reached over for them and started to sift through.

  I shuffled in my seat, trying to think of an excuse to take them back without appearing rude. I had been doing my best to forget about Kit. We’d had a conversation this week. In the playground. About the weather. Well… I’d uttered a few words – stilted responses to his comments, wondering if this mystery woman of his was in the playground, watching.

  Davina burst out laughing.

  Too late.

  ‘Fern, what’s this? Doodled love hearts? Has Lily been tampering with your hard work?’

  Kit really had brought out the teenager in me.

  I reached out for the sheets but she waved them in the air where I couldn’t get them, her blonde ponytail swaying in synch.

  ‘Give them back, please.’

  Davina snorted and shook her head.

  My eyes welled up. Mustn’t cry. He wasn’t not worth it.

  Yes, he was.

  Cara studied me and then looked at Davina. ‘We don’t want the papers all scrunched up. They are helping Fern make this living calendar a success. Go on, hand them back,’ she said in a steely voice usually reserved for her children, on the rare occasion they were bad-mannered.

  ‘Not before I get a closer look,’ Davina said and held them higher in the air.

  ‘Can you not respect someone else’s feelings for a single second?’ snapped Cara. ‘What’s wrong with you? Just because your life’s picture-perfect.’ She stood up and swiped forwards, yanking my work out of Davina’s hand. Her wine glass went flying and the contents pooled across the table and down onto the pink tracksuit.

  13

  Davina jumped up, a damp patch spreading down her clothes. Cara’s hand flew to her mouth. Sheets of paper had fallen everywhere. I rushed into the kitchen and came back with a tea towel. Davina had already taken off her jogging bottoms and was using them to mop up the spillage.

  ‘Here, take this,’ I said and passed the cloth, before running upstairs to fetch a pair of my leggings. I came back and tossed them over to her. Cara stood, frozen, by the wall. I put Davina’s clothes on a quick wash and came back, ordering the two of them to move into the lounge. I collected the papers. At least the wine wasn’t red. I’d deal with it properly when they’d gone. Davina padded into the middle of the beige carpet. My leggings were at least a couple of inches too short.

  ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ stuttered Cara. ‘I can’t apologise enough.’

  Hand on hips, Davina faced her. She frowned, looked down at herself and then back up. ‘I’m so angry, Cara.’

  Cara’s eyes filled.

  ‘How have I not realised something serious is going on with you? What’s this all about?’ She moved forwards and wrapped her arms around her tight. Cara gulped and then her shoulders bobbed up and down. A sob escaped her lips.

  Five minutes later, Davina’s top was almost as soaked as her bottoms. I stood there rubbing Cara’s back. When the sobs subsided I made three mugs of coffee and brought them through with biscuits. Davina and Cara were sitting on the sofa. I planted myself in the armchair opposite.

  I’d also brought in a box of tissues. Cara blew her nose noisily.

  ‘I’m sorry, too, for being an idiot,’ said Davina. ‘Although I think me having to wear these black leggings is punishment enough. You know I only wear bright colours.’ She looked at Cara and was rewarded with a small smile.

  ‘Tell us what’s the matter,’ I said softly. ‘You’ll feel better and it won’t go beyond these four walls.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually and sniffed. ‘These last few months – sometimes I feel as if I’m going mad. The burnt lemon meringue pie, my cooking today – and all the rest. Increasingly I’m making stupid mistakes. Like… a couple of weeks ago I nipped to answer the front door and when I got back had burnt one of Audrey’s silk blouses. I hadn’t realised the iron was on such a high setting and that I’d left it, face down, on the material. That could have ended really badly. Then there’s the washing – I accidentally put Hannah’s red sport shorts in a whites’ wash and John’s favourite Italian shirt came out pink.’ Tears flowed again. ‘Mum makes mistakes like this now and again, what with the menopause. Maybe I’m going through it twenty years early. I even forgot that one of Lex’s friends was coming to tea. Normally I would have set up a crafting activity and prepared something wholesome to eat. The girls didn’t seem to notice but I felt like I’d somehow let them down.’ She sniffed. ‘I’m letting down everyone at the moment, or that’s how it feels.’

  Firmly Davina took Cara’s free hand whilst she sipped her drink. ‘No one could look after your daughters better than you. You’re an ace mum with love and patience to spare. Just last week I was quietly in awe of you, in the playground, at how you calmed Hannah down when she and her friend fell out. You have this magical way of sorting out little people’s problems without uttering a sharp word. You really manage to get down to their level. Not just physically but emotionally too. Like the time Lex found that dead bee. I don’t think many other parents would have attended the funeral.’

  ‘You mean Bertie? I helped Lex make a headstone.’ Cara managed a smile.

  I could picture it now, the headstone. It wouldn’t have just been a scrap of card. That was Cara. She knew that attention to detail was what made the difference. From what she’d said over the years, about her time working as a restaurant manager, I knew she’d have been brilliant at her job. Cara prided herself on knowing all her regular customers’ names, their drinks and favourite tables.

  ‘You’re probably just worn out, what with looking after Audrey, and John always being at the office…’ Davina said. ‘Have you told him how you feel?’

  ‘No. He’s under so much stress at the moment. And I don’t want to talk to Audrey. She’s had enough problems of her own these last months. Don’t you two say anything. Promise?’

  We both nodded.

  ‘It’s really getting me down. But I need to keep going… for the family. I wish I could visit Mum and Dad, but with the busy Christmas term… I don’t think that will be possible until the New Year.’

  ‘Talk to John,’ I said. ‘That’s what he’s there for. You’re a team. You shouldn’t be carrying this on your own. He’d want to know. It’s a busy time of year for everyone.’

  Cara wiped her eyes. ‘Just the thought of having to manage Christmas and all the shopping… I think I’ll buy the girls’ presents online. It’s less bother.’

  Davina and I exchanged looks. Cara loved visiting Christmas markets. We always marvelled at the effort she put into finding unusual, unique gifts.

  ‘What about tonight when you get back?’ I said. ‘Sit down with John and talk it through.’

  Cara put her coffee onto the coaster in front of her, on the small table I’d pulled out.

  ‘That’s the other thing… and you’ll think I’m the worst person in the world for saying this…’

  Davina slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Audrey. She’s great with Hannah and Lex. Considerate. Helps me with chores. I feel I’ve got to know her so much better as well. As you know, she always seemed distant before. But I thought she’d be gone by now. I see little enough of John as it is, but when he’s home Audrey monopolises him without realising it, being the first to ask him about his day. Then by the time she goes to bed we’re too knackered to talk – or do anything else.’ Her cheeks reddened. ‘I know it sounds selfish, but I just want my little family back. It would be heartless to ask her to move out at the moment with Christmas around the corner, but I’m worried that even when January comes and goes she’ll still be here.’

  ‘There’s me inviti
ng her to the cinema,’ I said and pulled a face. ‘Sorry about that. I should have thought.’

  ‘I mean, us three all get on well but how long do you think we’d last living together?’ continued Cara. It was as if she couldn’t stop now that she’d finally opened up.

  ‘You’d have to watch the shopping channel with me,’ said Davina. ‘And Fern’s cluttered house would drive me crazy.’

  ‘You’d both have to ignore my moods when a deadline looms,’ I said.

  Cara shrugged. ‘My point exactly. I prefer the radio on in the morning and ban all screens in the evening.’

  Her smile widened when she saw the horror on Davina’s face which, I suspect, mine mirrored.

  ‘What you need is a plan,’ said Davina briskly. ‘Agreed – maybe not for December. But January. You need to mention it to John and discuss how to tackle telling her about going back home. Why not have a date night, seeing as you have a live-in babysitter? You could travel to where he works and go straight from the office. That way he won’t be too tired or late – as he might have been if he’d had to commute home first. Or even go in just to meet for lunch, if that’s what it takes. Audrey could pick up the girls from school.’

  ‘Or I’m happy to drop them back,’ I said.

  She sat more upright. ‘Thanks, both of you. It just helps being able to talk it through. It’s such a relief that you don’t think me crazy or that I’m a horrible person.’

  Davina rolled her eyes, pulled Cara close and kissed her on the head.

  I got up to put the washed joggers in the tumble dryer and made another cup of coffee. When I came back Cara’s face looked more dimpled and welcoming.

  ‘Sorry to you too, Fern, for being so nosy,’ said Davina. ‘I didn’t realise there would be… private scribbling on those notes.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘I mean… doodled love hearts… not a lot of things are more private than those…’

  The three of us looked at each other.

  ‘Journalists – writers of any sort – they doodle a lot,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you know, it’s proof of a highly intelligent brain?’

  ‘I think there’s more to this than you are letting on and I’ll get the truth out of you eventually – intelligent or not,’ she said good-naturedly. Davina encouraged Cara to eat a biscuit and asked her about this year’s Christmas cake. Cara made a different one for her family every year, based on ideas from the girls. Last year’s somehow managed to taste of rocky road, with a hint of chocolate and marshmallows accompanying the rich fruit.

  ‘… so, I’m considering a raspberry ripple angle this year,’ she said.

  ‘What will you put on top?’ asked Davina.

  Cara stuffed a used tissue into her jeans pocket. ‘Thanks Davina. I guess you knew talking about food would cheer me up. I… I didn’t mean what I said – about your life being picture-perfect.’

  ‘It’s okay. We all say things we don’t mean. You should hear me get going when Max comes in late. And… well, I don’t blame you. My life must look like that and you know what? I am lucky.’

  ‘There must be something you’re hiding,’ I said. ‘Come on. Make it up if you have to – just to make me and Cara feel better about the fact our lives aren’t straightforward.’

  Because mine was decidedly squiggly at the moment, what with me and Kit trying to be just friends again and pretending we hadn’t got up close and personal.

  She shrugged. ‘Honestly, I’ve no complaints. I have a great husband. Wonderful children. Friends like you two. A lovely house. Little stress. No money worries. I wouldn’t say the picture is perfect but there’s also beauty in the flaws, right?’

  We had this conversation a couple of years ago, before Davina had moved into her bigger place. At the time, Jasper was seriously picky about food and Max was being sued by a disgruntled client, wrongly, as it turned out, for a case of subsidence. Davina was just as content and optimistic. I put it down to her challenging childhood. Like the Japanese art of kintsugi, where broken pottery is mended with resin mixed with platinum, silver or gold, and the cracks are left visible to be admired… the problems Davina had with her parents made her stronger than many, and gave her an empathy for other’s suffering that makes her even more attractive.

  Thinking of pottery gave me an idea on how to cheer Cara up and get her back to being her old self.

  ‘A week this Friday,’ I said. ‘Straight from school. It’s the very end of November. The Christmas market will be up and running in Chesterwood. Come on. Let’s make the effort to visit them. I love looking at the food stalls and buying trinkets. How about us three and the children go straight from school? We could make an evening of it. Go shopping. Grab a hot dog. It would be a lovely night out just before the beginning of the advent calendar. And we can all keep an eye on each other’s kids so it won’t be stressful.’

  Cara shrugged.

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ said Davina. ‘I’m feeling Christmassy already. Remember that strudel and custard stall from last year?’

  ‘I still dream about that. I finished yours off, as well as mine, I seem to remember,’ said Cara and her eyes shone.

  ‘Of course, Audrey wouldn’t be able to come, what with all the walking,’ I said, carefully. ‘But I’m sure she’d enjoy an evening alone with John.’

  Cara paused and then nodded. ‘Yes… Yes, I’m sure she wouldn’t be disappointed if I explained that.’ She looked at us both. ‘You two really are the best. I might even treat you each to a mug of that hot chocolate we had last year, with cherry liqueur in it. We could take the bus in,’ she said eagerly and looked at Davina.

  ‘Um… well… yes… okay. I guess that would be an adventure for the boys.’

  I gave Cara a wink.

  Not much later they both left, Davina back in her own clothes and Cara wearing an expression that could almost pass for cheerfulness. Lily would be so excited about the market. What fun she was going to have over the following weeks. I’d try to, as well. Kit and me – I was being silly. It was over before it started so really, I’d lost nothing.

  With a sigh I fetched a wet sponge and headed to where wine had spilt onto the carpet.

  14

  Birchwood Primary sat in the middle of the estate. It was made up of an L-shaped chain of buildings for the juniors that backed onto a playing field, the other side of which was the infant school. To the right of the grounds was the parade of shops. The school had appealed to me when looking for a new home because it was away from main roads. Its simplicity made me feel as if for the first time, in ages, I could breathe. The grief had felt stifling in London. All our old haunts… the sympathetic looks of neighbours… post addressed to him still being delivered… there’d been no escape.

  I felt on edge as Lily and I walked through the gates and I waved to Davina and Cara, unable to stifle a yawn. All the extra work that the calendar demanded was catching up with me.

  There was just one entrance to the building and one class for each year, along with a small woodland area to the left-hand side of the field, set up with bird tables. The chatter of children and adults welcomed us, along with the bark of dogs tied up outside. Lily’s grip tightened on my hand and she pulled me towards Kit who was crouched on the ground, scrubbing graffiti off one of the classrooms. Even this school, cocooned within the estate, wasn’t exempt from the odd episode of vandalism. Mia was talking to him, easy to spot in her pewter jacket.

  I pulled back. ‘Lily. Let’s wait with your friends. Mr Carlton looks busy.’

  She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘He once told us he was never too busy for a chat – especially if we had a problem.’

  ‘And have you?’

  ‘Noooo, but I want to tell him something. Mr Carlton…’ she shouted.

  Uh oh.

  I didn’t need this. Not after that angry phone call last night from one of the participants. They’d accused another one of being unneighbourly and buying up the local supplies of cheap cotton
wool that could be used in displays as snow.

  He stood up and rubbed his back, looking relieved to see Mia depart. She smiled at Lily and rubbed her forehead, long gold nails catching the bright winter sun, before making her way back to the crowd of parents.

  ‘What can I do for you, Missy?’

  Lily hopped from foot to foot. ‘I ate broccoli last night. And went to bed early. Just like you said.’

  I’d wondered what lights out at seven had been about.

  ‘Do I look any taller?’

  Kit stood back, folded his arms and looked her up and down.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘You know what? I think you do. But to really make it work you need to carry on the good work day in, day out.’

  Lily pulled a face. ‘But I don’t really like eating anything green.’

  Kit thought for a moment and then showed her his hands. They looked red and chapped.

  ‘You see how cold my fingers are? That’s because water and icy weather don’t mix. But I have to suffer this discomfort to make this brick wall nice and clean again. It’s a bit like you with wanting to be tall. Anything worthwhile takes work. It might mean you have to do things you don’t much like, but it will be worth it in the end.’

  ‘Like Mum using naughty words when she’s in the shower using that stinky, messy cream to take the hair off her legs?’

  ‘Lily!’ I said and my cheeks flushed. Kit’s mouth quirked up at the edges as the bell went and she hurried away.

  ‘That was embarrassing,’ I said.

  ‘An observant little one, isn’t she? I always enjoy chatting with her.’

  ‘You’re great with the kids.’

  ‘They aren’t as complicated as adults. Look, Fern, I’m sorry if—’

  ‘How about we both agree to keep things simple then,’ I said, hoping my light voice disguised the heaviness inside. ‘Let’s forget about the other night at the rink.’

  ‘It was lovely, Fern,’ he said quietly. ‘More than that. It’s just—’