by Lynda Renham
‘You said you were sick,’ Brian had said accusingly.
‘I know. It was all so sudden and …’
‘If I could swan off to Paris at our busiest time just before Christmas I’d be a happy man.’
‘I’ll take it unpaid,’ I’d offered. After all, I could afford to. I’d been to Paris and still had four thousand pounds in the bank. How lucky is that?
My fingers sting from the cold. Even the gloves I’m wearing aren’t helping. I stop and look around the cemetery.
‘It should be here somewhere,’ I say.
Doris strains her neck.
‘That one looks new,’ she says pointing.
We step through the untouched snow, feeling it crunch beneath us, until finally we reach the headstone.
‘It’s your Frank alright,’ says Doris, bowing her head.
I look warily at the headstone. I so hope there aren’t any big errors on it. It was relatively cheap. Not dirt cheap or anything. I wouldn’t get Frank a dirt-cheap tombstone, but it was reasonable. To be honest with you, Frank’s greyhound paid for it. Well, the back part of it. I sold it. What good is the backside of a greyhound to me?
Frank Foster
1953 - 2018
Sadly Missed
‘Not a lot of words,’ remarks Doris. ‘Still, you don’t need many do you?’
‘I didn’t want to say things that weren’t true,’ I say.
‘That’s right,’ nods Doris.
I feel like we should stay a bit. Although it is freezing, and my cheeks are stinging something awful.
‘We don’t have to linger,’ says Doris, as if reading my mind. ‘Frank wouldn’t want you to catch pneumonia.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘Thanks for coming Doris.’
‘Oh, my pleasure. Well, not a pleasure, obviously. It’s no pleasure seeing Frank’s headstone.’
I place the flowers I had bought onto the grave and then take Doris’s arm.
‘Let’s go. It’s too cold to be in a cemetery.’
‘It’s too cold to be any-flipping-where except home by the fire,’ shivers Doris.
I hang a Christmas bauble over the headstone and we make our way back.
‘Five days before Christmas,’ says Doris. ‘It’s going to be a white one.’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Who’d have thought you’d be having Christmas in a posh house in Emerson Park. It just goes to show, you never know what’s going to happen from one day to the next.’
She’s quite right. If someone had told me six months ago that by Christmas I would have money in the bank, gone to Paris and have a lovely man friend in my life, I’d have laughed in their face. It’s funny, life, isn’t it? We’re only here for a short time and all most of us do is moan. We moan about the weather, about other people. In fact, we moan about everything. It’s stupid really. I’ve always tried to count my blessings, even when I didn’t have many. I’ve got a lot now. I’m only hoping Christmas will be okay. Archie is insistent that everyone comes to him. Well, not everyone, obviously; just me, Sam and Michael, and of course, Moira and Harry with Holly. It will be strange. But it’s only one day. All the same, I’m dead nervous. Sam’s met them already. It seems our little jaunt to Paris caused a real uproar. So, at least it won’t be too uncomfortable on Christmas Day. I’m glad Archie suggested his place. I don’t want Moira coming to mine to have a nose, although I bet she is dying to.
‘What you dreaming about?’ asks Doris.
‘Oh nothing. You’re all still coming to me on Christmas Eve, aren’t you?’
‘Try and keep us away,’ she laughs. ‘It’ll be lovely. At least I won’t have to hide behind the couch.’
We laugh at the memory and then hurry to the bus stop.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Sam
Christmas Day
Sam tucked his shirt into his jeans and grabbed his jacket.
‘You ready Mike?’ he called up the stairs.
‘Not quite.’
Sam sighed and checked the time on his watch.
‘I’ll wait for you in the car,’ he said, opening the front door.
The last person he expected to see standing on the step was Maureen.
‘Oh, hello,’ he said surprised. She was clutching a large carrier bag. Sam raised his eyebrows.
‘I thought you were in Spain.’
‘Ray is. I … I didn’t go.’
Sam nodded. She looked tired, he noted. Her hair was neatly pulled back, but she wasn’t wearing the usual make-up he was used to seeing on her.
‘We’re off to Mum’s friend for Christmas,’ he said.
Her eyes widened.
‘Has your mum got a bloke already?’
‘He’s a friend really. Not exactly her bloke.’
She nodded.
‘I bought Michael’s presents. I thought as I was home and that …’ she trailed off.
‘So, is it over with him, then?’
She nodded tearfully.
‘We’re around tomorrow,’ he said as he heard Michael’s footsteps on the stairs.
‘Hello Mum,’ said Michael looking at the carrier bag.
‘I brought your presents.’
Michael looked at Sam.
‘We’re going to Nan’s friend for dinner.’
‘We’re late too,’ said Sam closing the front door. ‘Why don’t you bring those tomorrow? We’re having dinner about one. You’re welcome.’
‘Thanks Sam,’ she said quietly.
Michael walked to the car.
‘It’s for him,’ said Sam. ‘No other reason.’
She nodded.
He climbed into the car and started the engine.
‘When are you getting the exhaust fixed?’ asked Michael. ‘It’s embarrassing.’
Sam watched Maureen through the rear-view mirror and sighed. Life sure is full of surprises.
*
Rosie
‘I wish you’d calm down,’ says Archie, slicing into the turkey. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly one. They should be here soon.
‘Do we have everything on the table?’ I ask.
I can’t think clearly. It’s like my brain has seized up. My stomach won’t stop churning and I’ve been in and out of the loo more times than I’d like to count. Well, I have counted, actually. I’ve been about four times.
‘If we’ve forgotten something, then it’s not the end of the world,’ he smiles. ‘Try and calm down.’
I wish my stomach would calm down. I fumble in my bag for my Imodium. I always buy Imodium before Christmas. Don’t ask me why, I’m a daft brush. I don’t know why I think I’ll need them at Christmas but not at any other time. Anyway, it’s a good job I did. I hope it settles soon. There’s nothing worse than leaving a smell in the bathroom is there, and I know how fussy Moira is with her dual flushes. I swallow two capsules and take some deep breaths.
‘Have a glass of wine,’ suggests Archie.
I can’t do that. What would Moira think if I breathed alcohol over her as she walks into the house?
The doorbell rings and my heart jumps into my mouth. Archie strolls to the door and opens it to Sam and Michael.
‘I’ve parked in the driveway,’ Sam says. ‘Is that alright?’
‘Yes, of course,’ says Archie, shaking Sam warmly by the hand. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Hello,’ says Michael, looking at Archie curiously.
‘Hello lad. I’m Archie. Merry Christmas to you.’
Michael smiles shyly and shakes Archie’s hand. I pretend to look nonchalantly down the street. There’s no sign of Moira. What if she decides not to come? It’s the kind of the thing she would do, if you ask me.
‘Merry Christmas, Mum,’ says Sam, kissing me on the cheek and handing me a carrier bag.
‘These are our presents. I thought they could go under the tree.’
‘What a big house,’ exclaims Michael.
I nudge him in the ribs. Archie laughs and takes t
heir coats.
‘Come into the living room. We’ve got the fire going. It’s bitter out there isn’t it?’
My stomach rumbles and Sam raises his eyebrows.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I say dropping the carrier bag.
Oh no, this is terrible. I can’t pebble-dash the loo a few minutes before Moira arrives. I’ll have to take some more Imodium. I may be bunged up for a week but surely anything is better than this.
I can hear Sam laughing. At least he’s relaxed. I spray the bathroom with fresh air spray and then check my hair in the mirror. I’m far too flushed. Moira will no doubt think I’ve been drinking. I hurry downstairs and am about to go into the living room when the doorbell goes. For a second I freeze. Archie will come in a minute. But he doesn’t. They obviously didn’t hear the bell. I walk nervously to the door and open it. A man stands there laden down with prettily wrapped presents. I can barely see his face.
‘Sorry we’re late Dad,’ he says. ‘Moira’s getting the rest from the car.’
‘Hello,’ I say.
He peeks around the presents to look at me.
‘Oh, hello, sorry I thought you were Dad. I mean, I couldn’t see.’
‘That’s okay,’ I say, forcing a smile.
‘I’ll get Archie,’ I say.
‘Archie?’ questions Harry.
‘Rosie calls Grandad, Archie,’ says Holly, hurrying in.
‘Archie,’ I call. ‘Your son is here.’
I hear the tremble in my voice. If only I could disappear for a few hours.
‘They’re getting logs,’ says Michael.
Of all the times to get logs.
‘I’ll help them,’ says Harry, dropping the presents onto the hall table.
‘Hello,’ Holly says, smiling shyly at Michael. ‘I’m Holly.’
‘Hello,’ says Michael, fidgeting on his feet.
It’s getting cold with the front door open. I wish Moira would hurry up.
‘They’ve got a fabulous tree,’ says Michael.
‘Yes, I know,’ says Holly, following him into the living room.
I wait shivering by the front door for Moira to come. I feel like I’m waiting to go to my execution.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Moira
Moira looked at herself in the bedroom mirror. She was sure there were new lines around her eyes. That’s what bitterness does to you, she thought. She was nervous. She had no idea what she was going to say to Rosie. She glanced around the perfectly decorated bedroom. She was so lucky. It had taken her a long time to realise it. They were fortunate to have such a lovely house. It was ridiculous of her to crave something bigger. It would only mean more work, more stress.
‘We have to go soon,’ Harry called.
‘I’ll be down in a bit.’
Harry had been over-the-top attentive the past week. He was desperate to put things right. The play had gone well but it had been bitter-sweet. Dad had missed it because the flight from Paris was cancelled, and Moira hadn’t been able to face it. Harry had assured her that Steph wouldn’t be there, but she still couldn’t do it. Steph had handed in her notice. At least Moira hoped that was true and that Harry hadn’t had her sacked. No, she felt sure he wouldn’t do something like that. Her mind travelled to Sam Foster and she felt that little flutter in her stomach that thoughts of him always produced. He’d brought her down to size. She sighed and grabbed her handbag. Everything was going to be all right. Dad was fine. He hadn’t been murdered by Matt Fisher as they’d at first thought. It had been such a relief. People were what counted. It had taken her a long time to realise that. It seemed strange not having Christmas Day at theirs, but Dad had wanted to do it with Rosie and it was only fair that they went. Harry was looking forward to it.
‘I’m glad Dad’s got a friend,’ he’d said. ‘It will be less of a strain on us.’
Alf had assured them that he and Rosie wouldn’t be moving in together.
‘We’re mates,’ he’d said. ‘We’re taking it slowly, not that we’ve got much time but … anyway, it’s company.’
She glanced one last time at her reflection and then left the bedroom.
*
Her heart began to race as they got closer to Alf’s.
‘They’re here already,’ exclaimed Holly on seeing the car in the driveway. Moira recognised Sam’s Mini and her heart beat even faster. Harry parked the car and lifted the presents from the boot.
‘I’ll bring the chocolates,’ said Moira, fiddling in the back seat.
She was putting it off. She knew that. She managed to spend a fair bit of time fumbling about. Harry and Holly had already gone in and she knew she had to do it sometime. Finally she locked the car and walked to the front door where she saw Rosie was waiting. Moira had no idea how long she’d been waiting but she looked frozen.
Moira hurried up the path and walked in.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Rosie
‘You’ll catch a cold,’ Moira says, closing the door.
I step back.
‘It is freezing,’ I say.
My voice trembles and I could kick myself.
‘I bought chocolates,’ Moira says, handing over a carrier bag.
‘That’s kind, thank you,’ I say, taking it.
Moira turns her face away and says, ‘I owe you an apology. I was rude to you in Waitrose.’
‘Oh, we get it all the time,’ I say.
‘I’m sure you don’t.’
‘Anyway, that’s past,’ I say graciously.
Moira nods.
‘They’re getting logs,’ I say, walking into the living room. The men enter through the French doors and I let out a sigh of relief.
‘Hello there,’ Sam says leaning forward to kiss Moira on the cheek.
‘Hello,’ she smiles.
Goodness, is she blushing?
‘Let’s get you all a drink,’ says Archie, walking to the drinks cabinet.
‘Who’d have thought you’d be at my grandad’s for Christmas,’ laughs Holly.
‘We’ve you to thank,’ says Archie, handing Holly a bottle of cider.
‘Me?’ she says surprised.
‘If you hadn’t have got yourself in a bit of trouble that Friday night, Rosie and I would never have met, and we wouldn’t all be here now, celebrating Christmas.’
‘And if I hadn’t gone round to Rosie’s that afternoon you two still wouldn’t be talking,’ says Holly.
Moira bows her head and Harry puts his arm around her.
‘That’s all in the past,’ says Archie.
‘Life is a funny thing,’ says Harry.
‘It certainly is,’ smiles Sam.
‘Here’s to Holly,’ says Archie, lifting his glass.
‘To Holly,’ everyone choruses.
Michael gives Holly an admiring look and I smile. Life is funny all right. I can’t disagree with that. I lift my glass and wish a silent Merry Christmas to Frank.
