Calling Mrs Christmas

by Carole Matthews

  ‘We’ll pick you up at about eleven o’clock in the morning to take you to my sister’s house for Christmas lunch,’ I add. ‘Is that all right?’

  Both of the boys nod, but they look terrified by the prospect.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ I think it’s the third time he’s asked them, but I can tell that Jim is anxious about leaving them on their own. ‘If you’re going to have a beer, make it one or two. No more. I’ve told Vince that you’re reformed characters. I don’t want you drunk on your first night here.’

  Andrew grins. ‘I don’t think you need to lecture us about drinking, Jim.’

  Jim flushes. ‘Yeah, very funny.’

  I look at them, perplexed, but no one lets me in on the joke.

  ‘We’ll just have a couple,’ Kieran promises. ‘We’ve got to have a little celebration.’

  ‘No pot,’ Jim warns. ‘Not even one small spliff. If Vincent catches even a whiff of it, you’ll be out on your ear quicker than you can say “high”.’

  ‘We won’t, Jim,’ they swear.

  ‘Just relax. Watch some telly. Go down to the communal lounge and meet the other lads. Enjoy the place,’ Jim says. ‘See you in the morning.’

  I hug them both. ‘Sleep well. Enjoy your new home.’

  I slip my hand into Jim’s as we walk away, aware that they’re both at the door watching us. We turn and wave, then disappear down the stairs.

  Back in the car Jim lets out a shaky breath. ‘Didn’t think this would be so hard,’ he says. ‘If we had the room, I’d want them with us.’

  ‘You can’t watch them every five minutes,’ I point out. ‘You have to let them fly. I’m sure they won’t let you down.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Cassie. I couldn’t bear to see either of them back in Bovingdale.’ Then his voice catches and I squeeze his hand. With that, he breaks down and cries. He puts his head on the steering wheel and sobs while I hold him.

  I think this is the past few weeks catching up with him. Jim is always so stoic, so strong, but there’s only so much a person can take and I bitterly regret my part in this. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper into his hair. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  When he’s finished crying, we hug each other and I wipe his face with the tail of my blouse.

  Jim settles back in the driving seat and gives me a watery smile. ‘Now, Mrs Christmas, do you want to go and get that big Christmas tree you talked about? I can’t have you with the least-decorated home in the land.’

  ‘Make haste to the nursery,’ I tell him. ‘But, first, there’s just one more stop that I need to make.’

  A few minutes later we pull up outside Mrs Ledbury’s home. I leave Jim in the car while I run across the road and ring her doorbell.

  ‘Hello, dearie,’ she says when she comes to answer it. ‘How lovely to see you. Have you come for a cup of tea?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘I can’t stay. I’ve got masses to do. I just wanted to ask you what your plans are for tomorrow.’

  She looks at me, puzzled. ‘Why, nothing.’

  ‘No visitors?’

  Mrs Ledbury shakes her head. ‘No.’

  ‘You can’t have Christmas dinner alone,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll send Jim for you in the morning. You’re coming to my sister’s house with us.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly,’ she says. ‘I’ve got food in. I’ll be absolutely fine here.’ But she can’t fool me, I saw her eyes light up at the suggestion.

  ‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ I insist. ‘You can eat what you’ve bought on Boxing Day. You’re coming and that’s that. Have your glad rags on and he’ll be here just before midday.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ the old lady says. ‘I don’t like to impose.’

  ‘We’d love to have you.’

  I haven’t actually told Gaby that there’ll be an extra guest yet, but knowing my sister she won’t mind at all. Like me, she wouldn’t want to see anyone at home alone on Christmas Day. Besides, the tiny Mrs Ledbury hardly looks as if she’s going to eat Gaby out of house and home.

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ she says, ‘how kind. I had to admit that I was dreading it just a little bit. The cottage can be very quiet at the best of times.’

  ‘We’ll make sure you have a nice time and Jim will bring you home afterwards too.’

  ‘You’re a lovely girl, Cassie.’ She rests a papery hand on my arm. ‘Thank you for thinking of me.’

  I kiss her soft cheek and skip back to the car.

  ‘All done?’

  ‘To the nursery,’ I say and we head off to choose our Christmas tree. I’ve got boxes and boxes of decorations going spare and I want to make the flat look lovely.

  ‘I feel terrible, I haven’t even bought you a present,’ I say to Jim as he drives.

  ‘You’re home.’ He takes my hand in his and says, ‘That’s the only gift I need.’

  I hear the happiness in his voice and that’s the only gift I need too.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Together Jim and I carry the tree up the stairs to the flat and wrestle it round the angle of the stairwell. It looked quite small in the field behind the nursery, but now that we’ve brought it indoors, it seems a lot bigger.

  ‘Are you sure this is going to fit?’ Jim voices my thoughts. ‘I think you’ve got used to doing things on a bigger scale.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I assure him whilst panicking inside. The smaller tree that the boys decorated is already brightening up the landing and this is to replace it, but I’m dreading the moment when we liberate the big one from its tight net sleeve.

  We manhandle it through the door of the flat and into the corner of the living room, which, even in its current state, it fills handsomely.

  ‘Here?’ Jim asks, puffing heavily.

  I nod and Jim sets the tree into the new stand we’ve bought, while I go to find the scissors. With a second of trepidation, I cut open the net sleeve. A multitude of branches spring free from their confinement. Not only is it much taller than it looked, but it’s also much thicker. The intoxicating scent of pine is almost overwhelming. It’s a beautiful specimen and, because of the number of trees I’ve ordered from the nursery in the last few weeks, I was given a great price. It dominates our small room, making us both laugh out loud.

  ‘Well,’ Jim says, ‘I think it makes a statement.’

  ‘It’s enormous,’ I agree.

  ‘I could chop some off it,’ he suggests.

  ‘That would be a shame. Can’t we just leave it as it is? It’s fun.’

  ‘I’m worried that it might come alive in the night and kill us as we sleep in our bed.’

  I laugh. ‘Get the decorations and we’ll make a start. I only hope we’ve got enough.’

  ‘Shall I phone the lads?’ he says as he heads towards the stash of decorations in the spare room.

  ‘If you want to.’

  So while I wind two sets of white lights round the monster Christmas tree, Jim phones Andrew. As we left less than two hours ago, he assures Jim that they’re both absolutely fine. Relieved, Jim joins me to help with the decorations.

  Even though my tree-dressing skills are now finely honed, it takes an age for us to finish. But when I stand back to admire my handiwork, I get a lump in my throat as it looks so good. Jim twines his arms round my waist and I lean back against him.

  ‘That looks fantastic.’

  He’s right. It might take up half the room, but it seems to embody the spirit of Christmas perfectly. It’s big, it’s brash and its totally OTT, but it warms the flat completely. The lights twinkle in the gathering darkness.

  ‘Look at the time.’ We’ve spent the latter part of the afternoon on the tree and now the evening is looming. My stomach rumbles. ‘We’ve had nothing to eat since that mince pie this morning. I bet you’re starving. What shall we have for dinner?’

  ‘I’ll whip something up,’ Jim says. ‘You tidy away the boxes.’

  I agree to the deal because the last thing on earth I want to
do is cook. Jim heads to the kitchen, while I gather up any remaining decorations and take the boxes into the spare room to stash away. For the final time before Christmas, I check the diary. I make a few calls and leave voicemails for the chefs who are going to provide sumptuous Christmas lunches for my well-heeled clients, just to remind them where and when they’re due.

  Carter, of course, is on the list and I run my finger over his name as I dial the number of the chef I’ve booked for him. I get a pang of longing that I push down. I hope that he and the children have a great Christmas, I truly do. I can’t help but wonder what I’d be doing now if I’d made a different decision and had chosen Carter, if Tamara hadn’t gone back to her family. Who knows? I guess a part of me will always wonder what might have been. It’s only human. But it’s now up to me to make the very best of what I do have.

  I leave a message for the chef, telling him that Carter Randall is a very special client and he should make them the best Christmas lunch he’s ever created. Then, that’s it. I hang up. Close the diary. Calling Mrs Christmas! is finished for the season. All I have to do now is relax and enjoy my own Christmas.

  When I go back through to the living room there are two champagne flutes sitting on the coffee table. Not proper ones like Carter would have, but plastic ones that we use for picnics. Jim pops the cork of the bottle he’s holding.

  ‘Wow! Champagne. We’re pushing the boat out.’

  ‘That’s because we can,’ Jim says. ‘You’ve made quite a lot of money in the last couple of months, Cassie. I thought we should at least celebrate your success.’

  ‘I’m all for that.’ We clink our glasses together. Well, as they’re plastic it’s more of a clonk. ‘To us.’

  ‘Yes. To us,’ Jim echoes. We swig our champagne. ‘To go with it I’ve prepared a fabulous dinner.’

  He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two trays bearing beans on toast. ‘No expense spared.’

  ‘It looks perfect,’ I tell him. And it does.

  We sit on the sofa in front of the television, eating our beans on toast and watching The Polar Express through the branches of the voluminous and twinkly tree.

  When the film finishes, we push the trays aside and cuddle up together.

  ‘Let’s make next year a good one,’ Jim says softly. ‘Whatever you want to do, we’ll do. We can get married, start a family. We’ll find the money somehow. Why wait?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Then let’s do it.’ He takes me in his arms and kisses me deeply. My body yearns for him.

  ‘I love you,’ I say.

  ‘We could make a Christmas baby,’ he whispers against my neck.

  Moments later we’re on the rug and, when we make love beneath the Christmas tree, I know that everything is going to turn out fine.

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  On Christmas morning, we arrive at my sister’s house at nine o’clock, still a bit bleary-eyed due to our champagne extravaganza last night, but there’s no doubt that we’re also feeling loved up. Even in the short distance from the car to the front door, Jim wraps his arms around me.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ Gaby grabs us both in a warm embrace the minute we walk in. ‘They’ve been up for hours,’ she says, with a nod of her head towards the living room. The sounds of two boisterous children bellow out. ‘My seasonal goodwill has been sorely tested. I was screaming at them to get back in their own beds at four this morning.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘You can entertain them now while I get cracking with lunch. I’ve made them save some presents. Good luck.’

  My own Christmas shopping hasn’t been done in my usual leisurely manner this year. It’s been fitted in while I’ve been browsing the internet for perfect gifts for my clients. I have, however, found some great presents for my family too. George and Molly will get the latest must-have toys, which will guarantee me my place as Favourite Auntie for another year.

  We’re hardly through the door when the children barrel into us. ‘Auntie Cassie,’ Molly says. ‘You must come. Look what Father Christmas brought me.’

  As she pulls me by the hand towards the living room, I say over my shoulder, ‘There’s one extra guest for lunch, sis. Mrs Ledbury.’

  ‘Your client?’

  ‘Is that OK? She was going to be on her own and I couldn’t bear it. I said that Jim would pick her up after the boys.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ve got an emergency present tucked away and there’s enough here to feed the five thousand.’

  ‘Want me to give you a hand?’

  ‘I think you’re going to be busy on present-opening duty for a while, but when you’ve got a minute that would be nice.’ Jim has already disappeared with George. ‘Your gifts are under the tree. I’ll come in when you get to those. Give me a shout.’

  So, towed by her daughter, I leave Gaby in the kitchen and go through to the living room. My sister’s home, always immaculate, looks as if a bomb has gone off in it. Wrapping paper is strewn everywhere and we might easily be in an overstocked branch of Toys R Us. Ryan is sitting in the middle of it all, shell-shocked.

  ‘Is Christmas over yet?’ he says, stunned.

  ‘Nearly,’ I tell him. ‘Hang on in there for a few more days.’

  ‘Days?’ He groans. ‘Is it too early to start drinking?’

  ‘No,’ I assure him. ‘It’s Christmas.’

  I sit on the floor with Jim amid the multitude of toys, feeling overwhelmed already. Molly and George sit with us and attack the remaining pile of gifts with gusto at the same time as showing us what they’ve already got. I can only wonder when they’ll get time to play with it all.

  For a moment my mind strays to Carter and the children. I wonder what they’re doing now. Is their Christmas more subdued than this? I hope that they’re having a great time, surrounded by love, and they’re all happy. Then I force my mind away from them before I start to feel sad.

  Jim glances over at me. ‘OK?’

  I brighten the smile on my face. ‘Great.’

  ‘These are for you,’ Molly says and proudly hands us two prettily wrapped parcels. ‘I did that.’ She points at the bow on mine. ‘With Mummy’s help. A very little bit of help.’

  ‘Well, it looks lovely.’

  Gaby comes in with a tray of Buck’s Fizz for the adults and orange juice in posh glasses for the children. Jim has just a small glass of the fizz as he’ll be driving again later. ‘The turkey’s coming along nicely,’ she says. ‘I can relax for five minutes now.’

  We raise our glasses and make a toast together, shouting, ‘Merry Christmas!’

  I open my present from Gaby and Ryan. It’s a jewellery tree made out of crystal. ‘How beautiful. Thanks, Gaby.’

  ‘I’m hoping that you might have a little extra something to put on it this year.’ She winks theatrically at Jim.

  ‘You might be lucky, sis,’ he replies.

  Gaby’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Really?’ She spins to look at me.

  ‘No announcements today,’ I say, ‘but watch this space.’

  ‘That deserves another toast,’ she says. ‘To watching this space!’

  We all laugh and join in. Jim and I exchange a secretive glance. When the dust settles, I need to sit back and take stock of how much money Calling Mrs Christmas! brought in and then we can make plans for next year. I’m sincerely hoping that one of them will involve the sound of wedding bells.

  Gaby swigs her champagne. Clearly all this toasting is giving her a taste for it. ‘We should all go out together and have a knees-up when the madness of Christmas is over, have a proper catch-up.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ I say. What Gaby means is that she wants the lowdown on any hint of wedding plans.

  Turning back to our presents, Jim gets a Dennis the Menace mug and a kit to make a chocolate pizza, which he’s delighted with.

  We listen to Christmas songs and drink more Buck’s Fizz and play with the children’s toys. Uncle Jim is soundly thrashed at Operation.

  �
�I’d better think about going for the boys soon,’ Jim says, checking his watch.

  We didn’t call them when we got up in case they were still asleep, but, hopefully, they’re up and about now. It sounds stupid, but even though we settled them in their own place only yesterday, I can’t wait to see them.

  ‘I want that paper cleared away,’ Gaby says to the children. ‘We’ve got guests coming. Shall we go and see what’s happening in the kitchen, Cassie?’