‘Where can it be coming from? There’s been no trouble with any of the houses.’
They discussed it for a while and decided to ignore the story in the hope that it would die out from lack of fuel.
‘D’you think the boys will want to come to the pantomime after Christmas with me this year? Or are they too old?’ Ken asked.
‘I don’t think you’re ever too old for panto. Yes. I’m sure they’ll come but I’ll ask and let you know.’
‘I’ve already booked.’
Christian could imagine Ken’s grin. ‘You’re a big kid, Ken Morris.’
‘I only wish it was my girls I was booking for,’ Ken said. ‘I had a letter from them both yesterday and I always feel lonely for a while after hearing their news.’
‘When are you going to make the effort and go to America and see them?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose I keep hoping for a miracle, and that Mam will get better and be able to go with me,’ Ken sighed.
* * *
Mrs Morris was putting the finishing touches to a casserole ready for Ken’s tea. She had been watching a programme about America and wondering whether Ken would take her as he promised. His excuse was that he needed a lot of money and once his house was built… One day. It was always one day, she thought with a sigh. One day she would go to America to see her granddaughters. One day, Cynthia and Christian would visit her.
Ken had explained about their new life and their invented past, but she would hardly shame them. She knew better than talk about the hovel in which Cynthia lived and the drunkard Christian had for a father. Perhaps next year. She sighed again. At her age, hope was a frail ol’ thing.
* * *
In Churchill’s Garden that week, everyone was loaded with last minute Christmas shopping. Vivienne was there with an excited Toby, who had been to visit Santa and had been given a small clown puppet.
‘What was your Christian doing on the beach at crack of dawn this morning?’ Vivienne asked as she settled Toby in a chair. ‘Toby and I went to look for driftwood and pretty pebbles to make some decorations.’
‘On the beach?’ Cynthia frowned. ‘Are you sure it was Christian?’
Vivienne nodded. ‘Him and that partner of his, Ken isn’t it? They were crawling about on the rocks and on the beach and a right mess they were in too. Covered in red mud.’
‘Oh, that. It’s just some initial survey to see if they can build further out towards the cliffs.’ Cynthia smiled as she lied but her heart was racing. Was there a problem with the houses? And if so, would Christian be held responsible?
‘Here comes Meriel,’ she said. ‘Let’s have a piece of gateau shall we, as it’s Christmas? My treat.’ She left the table and waved to Meriel, and Helen, who was close behind her, telling them she would bring coffee for them all.
She hoped the chatter would be of Christmas and the family arrangements they had each made and not the subject of subsidence. That was a rumour Christian could well do without, even if it were unfounded. It could affect the outcome of his bid for a large contract he felt certain he would win. The timing of such a story couldn’t have been worse.
‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ she asked Joanne when she returned to the table. ‘How many days will John be free?’
‘Not many,’ Joanne sighed. ‘The cafes are open practically every day and when he can’t get the staff to work he has to go in himself.’
‘I thought Reggie and I would be on our own,’ Helen said excitedly, ‘But Henrietta wants to come and stay, at least for part of the holiday, isn’t that great?’
‘I don’t know how you fit three extra into that small flat of yours Helen.’
‘It is difficult and I know the boys don’t stay as long as I want them to because of the crush, but this time it’s Henrietta on her own.’ She turned her small bright eyes on Cynthia. ‘I suspect that your Rupert might have had something to do with her decision, mind.’
‘A crush of a different sort, eh?’ Cynthia laughed. ‘Tell her to come any time she likes. The boys will be pleased to see her I’m sure.‘
‘Thanks, I’ll tell her that.’
‘Meriel and I will be on our own so we’re sharing Christmas Day,’ Vivienne told them. ‘And, if Meriel can persuade her, we thought we’d invite Cath as well.’
They looked towards the table where Cath still sat when she came for coffee and to read her paper, but an elderly man sat there, blocking the aisle with some untidily strewn packages.
‘No sign of Cath today. Do you think she’ll come, Meriel?’ Helen asked. ‘Better to spend the day with you and Vivienne than to be on her own, eh?’
Meriel thought it unlikely Cath would come for Christmas Day with Toby there. She had a serious hang-up where children were involved and Meriel had never found the right opening to coax the reason from her quiet friend. ‘Maybe,’ she replied.
‘Christian is going away tomorrow and he won’t be back until Christmas Eve,’ Cynthia said, repairing her lipstick after the gateau had left its evidence. ‘He and Ken had finished till the New Year but Ken wants him to look at a place ripe for conversion. They’ll be taking their old camper van. They both hate hotels and prefer the van when they have to stay away.’
‘Don’t you mind him being away so much?’
‘Of course I do, he’s my best friend as well as my loving husband. But I understand that it’s a part of what he does. We phone each other regularly on our mobiles, and I always know where he is so I can get in touch if I have a problem, although I rarely do.’
‘I refuse to have a mobile,’ Joanne lied. ‘Even though John has begged me to. They’re such a nuisance sometimes, aren’t they?’
Right on cue, Cynthia’s phone began to bleep and she glared at Joanne before answering it. ‘Darling? … All right, I’ll be there… Yes, I’ll take the boys, they love to visit the farm, don’t they? … Bye, darling.’ She replaced the phone in her bag. ‘He forgot he was going to collect the turkey and I have to pick it up on Christmas Eve,’ she told them glaring at Joanne. ‘It’s so handy sometimes.’
Cynthia was the first to leave that morning and when she was out of the shop, Helen whispered, ‘I wonder if there’s any truth in the rumour I’ve just heard about those houses being unsafe?’
‘It’s a worry for Cynthia and Christian of course, but as my ex, Evan, lives in one with that Sophie Hopkins woman, I wouldn’t be desperately upset if they all fell into the sea,’ Meriel confessed with a chuckle.
* * *
Christmas was an unhappy time for Joanne. John was home but extremely irritable. He went out in the car, stating that he needed to go for a walk, and refused to invite her or the boys to go with him. Everything she suggested he vetoed. He criticized the excellent meals Joanne served and told her not to be boring when she asked what he would like to eat. He bought her a dress which she thought too matronly, and in navy, a colour she never wore. She had dealt with the boys’ presents from the money he had provided and had given him a watch, for which she was paying weekly from a catalogue. Before the evening of Boxing Day she was seriously considering sending it back!
The boys went to see the Sewells after Joanne had telephoned to make sure they wouldn’t be intruding on the family occasion and Joanne was left, sitting on her own, flicking through the channels of the television searching for something she could enjoy.
* * *
For Meriel, Christmas was a time she had dreaded, knowing that Evan would be sharing it with his new love. But with Vivienne and Toby promising to share Christmas Day and Cath joining her for Boxing Day, she was content. On Christmas Eve she opened the door to see Evan standing there with a bunch of flowers and an extravagantly wrapped parcel.
‘Evan?’ she tilted her head questioningly but didn’t move to allow him to enter.
‘I’ve brought this for you and I’d like you to open it now, so I know whether or not you like it.’
‘If it’s a Christmas present I don’t want it. We’re
divorced, remember?’ She tried to close the door but he stepped inside and stood in the hall, offering both the flowers and the gift.
‘Please, Meriel. I never want us to be less than friends. Please open it. I want you to have it.’
He put the flowers on the hall table and handed her the gift. With a show of reluctance she began to take off the carefully designed ribbons and stars, curious but trying not to show it. It was only a bar of soap, she decided, examining its shape. Just an excuse to call, nothing more. ‘I haven’t bought anything for you,’ she said.
To her surprise the torn wrapping-paper revealed a jewellery box and, inside, a watch that was not new but probably, she thought, from the fifties; a tiny but exquisite cocktail watch decorated with marcasites. It was something she had often mentioned in the past and she was impressed at his remembering.
Joy at the sight of the beautiful object swiftly changed to anger and she thrust it back at him. ‘I don’t want it. Give it to that woman of yours!’ She pushed him so fast, so unexpectedly she caught him off balance and he almost fell as she pushed him across the hall and out of the door. She slammed it shut then seconds later, before he’d had time to recover, she reopened it and threw the flowers after him. ‘Flowers for that Hopkins woman, not me!’
Evan called twice more and she ignored his impatient ring, standing behind the corner in the hall, giggling as she imagined herself to be a bad payer, avoiding the rent man. The second time, he went around to the back and stood for a while, then picked up a garden chair that had been blown over by the wind, and replaced it in its usual corner, before finally leaving.
When the doorbell announced another visit, she opened the door fast, prepared to tell him to go away, but saw, not Evan, but Tom Harris. She laughed in relief, apologizing as he stepped back in alarm. ‘Sorry. I thought it was someone else. Come in.’ He carried flowers and explained, ‘I found them outside, perhaps they were meant for you?’
Taking them from him, she put them, upside down, in the kitchen refuse bin.
Tom stood there obviously embarrassed and, for a fleeting moment, Meriel remembered that it was she who expected to be embarrassed when they next met. Anxious now to put him at his ease, she explained. ‘My ex-husband just called and brought me flowers. I didn’t want them. I’m not usually so indifferent to flowers, I assure you.’
‘You thought he was back when I knocked?’
‘Sorry,’ she said again, with an embarrassed grin. ‘Will you have some coffee?’
‘I won’t stay, I’ve just brought you this. My brother and I are so grateful for the work you did last week. He’s delighted to have the pond unearthed.’ He handed her an envelope, which she guessed contained money.
‘There’s no need,’ she said hesitating to take it.
‘We wondered what you think of the chances of restoring it, perhaps making it into a wildlife pond?’
‘That would be wonderful. In fact,’ she said, ‘I’ve already looked up a few ideas.’
Tom placed the envelope on the hall table and followed her into the kitchen where she set about making coffee. She invited him to sit, then handed him a gardening book in which she had placed several markers. ‘Frog-spawn will be unlikely to appear spontaneously, but we can apply to get some from one of the wildlife rescue organizations, I think. The rest will probably come naturally once the pond is established.’
They discussed the necessary requirements and Tom made notes. An hour passed in easy conversation which ranged from the garden, to birds and other inhabitants, to families.
‘You don’t have children?’ Tom asked.
‘No, we didn’t manage that. Perhaps if we had…’
‘You would be less able to make a new life for yourself,’ he finished for her. ‘I have a son,’ he told her and she stared in surprise. ‘He doesn’t live with me. I thought it better he stayed with his mother.’
Meriel was unable to ask further questions with the bigger question buzzing in her head. She must have been wrong about that solitary bed. How embarrassing if she had mentioned it to anyone. Thank goodness she wasn’t like Helen who would have blurted it out the moment the idea had taken root!
Evan phoned an hour after Tom had left, demanding to know who her visitor had been. Meriel replaced the receiver without saying a word. She was pleased with her self-control.
* * *
Evan was not in a good mood when he finally went home to Sophie. His irritation was increased when she appeared ready to go out.
‘I don’t want to go out this evening, can’t we have something at home for once?’
‘Pizza and salad?’
‘I hate pizza. Haven’t you learned that much?‘
Sophie knew perfectly well that pizza was his least favourite meal, which was why she offered it as an alternative to going out.
‘Eggs then?’
‘Oh all right, we’ll go out but only for a meal. I don’t feel like dancing tonight.’
He picked up his coat and didn’t hear the jeweller’s box fall from his pocket.
As they went out, Sophie picked it up and opened it. She frowned. An old secondhand watch? What was he thinking of? He didn’t think she’d want that for a Christmas present, surely? Evan stood at the open door, the cold night air blowing through the house, the hall light touching the top of his head and silvering his fair hair.
‘Thank you, Evan, but I think you should wrap this,’ she said as suspicion began to grow.
‘Where did you get that? Been going through my pockets?’ he said, snatching it from her.
‘If it’s for me, you don’t know me very well, either!’
‘I bought it and changed my mind. Realized I’d made a mistake. It’s going back to the shop after Christmas, I bought you something else.’
Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the tip of some wrapping-paper sticking out of his pocket. She pulled it free and said slowly, ‘It was for her, wasn’t it? Threw it back in your face did she? Or are you planning to take it down tomorrow morning for a sentimental reunion to talk over old Christmases?’
On the quiet air, the silence was broken by someone knocking at the door of the adjoining semi. Then the thin voices of a couple of young carol singers reached them and touched Evan with their magic. He felt himself relax, aware of the anger draining away, and it was a shock when he was pushed aside by Sophie as she ran down the short path to the road, her tap-tapping heels giving a harsh discordancy to the gentle words of the carols.
* * *
For Helen and Reggie, having Henri to stay during the last part of the Christmas holiday was wonderful. Helen told her she had booked to take her to the pantomime, which Henri thought terribly embarrassing. ‘Mam, I’m fifteen! I don’t go to pantomine any more!’
‘Well I want to go and I can’t go on my own. You’ll love it, no one outgrows panto.’
‘I have and so have all my fiiends!’
‘All right, a shopping trip as well. Both or neither,’ she coaxed.
Henri was not convinced but she couldn’t turn down the prospect of a shopping trip.
During the interval, Henri was persuaded to buy an icecream and, still hoping not to bump into anyone she knew, she walked with head down, trying to avoid faces.
‘Henri? Fancy you enjoying panto. Or were you forced into it by a daft adult, like us?’
‘Rupert! I was trying to hide. They don’t know how they shame us, do they?’ Henri sighed.
‘Oliver and Marcus are here. Uncle Ken took a box for us and we’re missing everything that happens on the right of the stage,’ Rupert added. They both laughed at the stupidity of adults.
‘Soon be over,’ she said with yet another sigh.
‘There’s a disco next Friday, d’you think you’ll be able to come?’
‘Love to. I’m sure I can persuade Mum to let me go.’ They discussed this for a while and Henri returned to her seat with two rather soft ices and a wide smile.
Helen was pleased that, after the
interval, Henri seemed more cheerful. But she made the mistake of saying so and Henri resorted once more to deep sighs and a refusal to smile.
* * *
Two men he immediately recognized were waiting for Ken when he reached home on Boxing Day. They were sitting in a car parked on the other side of the street and when he stepped out of his car they came to stand one each side of him, smiling but clearly threatening.
‘We have a proposition,’ one of them said. ‘A way of helping you to clear your debts.’
Hope and fear showed in Ken’s eyes as he waited for them to explain. Then as he listened, disappointment and then panic set in. He couldn’t do as they asked. Taking the consequences seemed the easiest way out, until his mother came and stood at the door, smiling, innocent, trusting. He could take a beating and would suffer it knowing he deserved it, but how could he put his mother at risk? The spokesman whispered softly, ‘I’ll be generous as it’s the season of goodwill and all that. I’ll give you until the New Year to decide. In the meantime, take care of your mother, won’t you?‘
Ken was trembling when he went inside and his mother was curious to know why he hugged her that bit longer than usual.
* * *
Tom was there when Meriel went to Holly Oak Lane to do a morning’s work during the holiday period between Christmas and New Year. Ray was there too and she tried not to look at them, still unsure about their relationship and afraid that her doubts would show.
The pond was completely cleared and waiting for a liner and some broken slabs, which they had decided would form the surround.
‘You can leave that to Ray and me,’ Tom said when he found her studying the layout of the area. ‘While it’s dry we thought we’d go and get the liner and perhaps put it in place this afternoon.’
‘It will want some sand below the plastic to protect it, and please make sure it’s level,’ she warned. ‘Use a spirit-level. You might not notice when it’s empty but when the water goes in it will look really silly if the level isn’t perfect.’
Friends and Secrets Page 12
