I Won't Be Home For Christmas

by Amanda Prowse

  Vivienne gave a small smile at her friend’s correct assumption that if she went anywhere it would be with Ellen in tow. It had always been that way. God only knew what her family would make of being abandoned so close to Christmas. ‘How can we? It’s not like it’s up the road – it’s a plane ride, a long plane ride.’

  ‘Probably two or three plane rides.’ Ellen asserted her superior geographical knowledge. ‘Might be fun though. I once read that the water goes down the plughole the wrong way in New Zealand.’

  ‘Oh, you should have said! I’ll give Thomas Cook a quick call; I wouldn’t want to miss that. And while we’re there checking out the plugholes, we may as well watch Emma get married.’ She tutted.

  There was a beat of silence while both of them sipped their hot drinks, savouring their frothy beverages.

  ‘Reckon it’ll be pricey too,’ Ellen sighed. ‘Mind you, I’ve got my savings.’

  ‘Thought you had plans for that? Weren’t you going to ditch Trev, have plastic surgery and then go to Vegas to woo Barry Manilow?’

  ‘I was, but I’m not so sure now. Firstly, I don’t think I’m Barry’s type.’ Ellen winked. ‘And secondly, Trev is starting to grow on me.’

  ‘Ah, that’s good to hear. How long is it you’ve been married now?’

  ‘Thirty-three years,’ Ellen offered with a deadpan expression.

  Vivienne laughed.

  ‘And thirdly, I’m beginning to doubt the wisdom of having the boobs of a twenty-four-year-old stuck onto my fifty-three-year-old body. It’d be like putting fancy headlights on an old banger – they might dazzle in the dark, but in the cold light of day you couldn’t hide the rust or the fact that it won’t start in the mornings.’

  ‘Don’t forget the leaky radiator.’ Vivienne smiled over the rim of the tall glass, held in both hands, up to her mouth.

  ‘You’re right. I think I might be better off waiting for a head transplant and going the whole hog.’

  ‘Whose body would you like?’

  ‘Don’t know, maybe something like Pedro’s, he’s in good shape for an older man.’

  ‘You’d be a man?’ Vivienne asked, a little shocked.

  ‘I reckon. Yes, why not? As we both know, there ain’t nothing as funny as a willy, Vivienne Peebles.’

  They both snorted their laughter and choked on their mouthfuls of coffee.

  ‘I don’t know, Elle, I feel a bit thrown by the whole thing, if I’m being honest. I thought she was going to say she was coming home for Christmas, and I was over the moon. I’m a little bit disappointed. I’d never tell her that, wouldn’t want to shackle her dreams in any way, but I want her home so badly. I miss her.’

  ‘Course you do.’

  ‘I don’t feel the joy I should, as mother of the bride. It just feels odd because it’s so far away and I’m so uninvolved.’

  ‘It’s probably because it’s all a bit rushed and you haven’t met him. That’s hard, it must be. Say what we like, but in an ideal world we’d have a say in who our kids ended up with.’ Ellen raised one eyebrow. ‘I mean, you hardly would have picked Miss Weston-Super-Mare 2005 for your Aaron, would you?’

  Vivienne hid her smile; it felt mean to be talking about her daughter-in-law in that way, even if Ellen’s words did hold more than the ring of truth. She sighed and placed her coffee glass back on its little saucer. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. Aaron seems happy, most of the time, and that’s all I ask. But with Emma, I suppose I thought she’d get the travel bug out of her system, see the world, have adventures, but then come home and settle down, have babies, see her school friends. That’s what she said she wanted, said she always wanted to end up here and that she only broke up with Fergus because she wasn’t quite ready to settle down yet and he wasn’t quite the one. I never thought she’d choose to make a permanent life on the other side of the world.’

  ‘We can all change our minds, Viv.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘But I thought she’d come home,’ she rubbed her brow, ‘maybe marry Shaun up the road. They’ve always been good mates, but I can’t pick for her, can I?’

  ‘No you can’t, Viv. How old is she now? Thirty-one?’

  ‘Nearly thirty-two.’

  ‘Doesn’t seem possible. I feel the same about Robbie. Our babies are getting older.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me. If Emma’s getting on, what am I?’

  ‘You are ancient, my girl.’

  ‘And you are four months older than me,’ Vivienne reminded her.

  ‘Keep it down, ladies!’ Pedro called from the counter. It was one of his favourite interjections, shouted out whenever their chatter or laughter rose above a hum.

  Vivienne sighed and joined her hands at the knuckles on the tabletop.

  ‘I suppose it’s just that when she was little, I had a fixed idea of what her life might turn out like and I guess I thought it would be like mine but better.’

  ‘We all want that.’ Ellen nodded, clearly thinking of her own son, Robbie, who lived locally, worked up at Babcock’s and lived with his second wife and new baby in Ashton, within spitting distance of the football ground and his first wife and baby, who, as a pair, looked remarkably similar to the new ones. Trev called them 2.0, joking that Robbie had got an upgrade, but this attempt at humour was only to mask the hurt they felt at their son’s inconsistency.

  ‘I was always a bit proud of Emma’s… defiance, if you like. That independent attitude that told her she could go anywhere, be anything, a wanderer. I encouraged her and it was easy too when I thought there would be an end to it. But…’

  ‘But you thought she’d come home eventually and settle down, not be continually saving up for her next adventure, desperate to escape.’

  Vivienne nodded, saddened by the idea that her child wanted to escape. ‘Yes. I also worry that she’s been a bad picker in the past, never with anyone too long, apart from Fergus, who we liked.’

  ‘We did.’ Ellen nodded. ‘I think he might be shacked up with Mrs Haines’ daughter,’ she whispered.

  ‘Fergus?’ Vivienne squealed.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘But he’s got to be at least ten years older than her?’

  ‘Well, I’m only saying what Robbie told me. He saw them out in town and said they were chewing the face off each other in the queue in Starbucks.’

  Both tutted in unison.

  ‘Well I never.’ Vivienne pictured the man who had slept in her house for a year, until the engagement was called off and he was sent packing, the topaz ring he had placed on Emma’s finger stuffed into his jeans pocket as he slammed the front door and jumped in his van, which was powered by old chip fat, apparently.

  ‘You have to try not to worry. She’s not you, Viv. She can spot a Ray at forty paces. You taught her that,’ her friend offered comfortingly.

  ‘Yes, well, it’s not always that easy to tell. Especially when you’re bowled over, dazzled.’

  There was a moment of reflection when both women thought back to that time in their lives, nearly four decades earlier. The two friends, meeting two friends; it had seemed ideal.

  ‘I didn’t think I would be man-less at my age; it’s not what I planned. Not that I want one, or need one, I really don’t! And I know it sounds like I do, like I’m protesting too much. It’s hard to explain. I don’t need a man to be happy, I think I’ve proved that, but the fact that mine abandoned me still makes me feel awful. Like it reflects on me somehow. It was such a public rejection.’

  ‘Well that’s a load of rubbish. No one gives it a second thought. He was a tosser, Viv. No one had a good word to say about him once he’d gone.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but he was my tosser and he was the father of my children and for a while I imagined growing old with him, even if the idea left me a little cold at times. It wasn’t the kind of marriage I had envisaged, true, but it was all I had to work with and I was prepared to do just that.’

  ‘He was never good enough for you, Viv. Proof being
in how it all ended. Everyone always said you could do much better.’

  Vivienne gave a wry smile. The fact was, no one had told her she could do much better, not until it was over, then they all had plenty to say.

  ‘I never liked him…’

  ‘I never trusted him…’

  ‘I said this would happen!’

  No one, however, had dared to say these things to her face when she was in the first flush of romance, and if anyone had suggested that her man might not be all he seemed, she wouldn’t have believed them anyway.

  ‘And trust me, I know Trev didn’t abandon me, but there’s many an hour in the day when I look at his miserable face and wish he had. I tell you what, Viv, if Brad Pitt knocked on the door and suggested a swap, I’d bite his arm off.’ She chomped at her teacake and spoke with her mouth full. ‘Don’t think it’s likely though, do you? I’ve never seen him around here.’

  ‘I don’t, Elle.’ She shook her head. ‘And I don’t need no Brad Pitt, in fact I don’t fancy him at all, not with that long hair and him chewing gum all the time. No, I’d be better off with someone that likes the fresh air, is happy to potter in the garden and isn’t afraid to peel a spud or two. Someone who’ll pick me up from work and make me a cuppa while I put the shopping away. Or someone who owns a wool shop – save me a fortune in knitting wool!’

  ‘Blimey, girl, you don’t want much, do you?’ Ellen chortled.

  ‘No, I never have and look where that’s got me.’ She raised her palms.

  ‘Up shit creek without a piddle.’

  ‘The word is “paddle”! Why would it be “piddle”?’ She laughed.

  ‘I don’t know. I always thought it was a bit nonsensical.’

  The two collapsed on the tabletop again, weakened by their laughter.

  ‘Thinking about it, Viv, I don’t think Brad would be interested in me, even if I wasn’t married. My courting days are over. I was working it out last night, how many people I’ve slept with.’

  Vivienne leant forward, interested. She looked over her shoulder at Pedro and the two young men eating their breakfast, to make sure they weren’t earwigging, before asking, ‘How many?’

  Ellen lowered her head. ‘Four—’

  ‘Four! Good Lord!’ Vivienne sat back in her chair with her hand at her chest. ‘Well, I never. I knew about two, but four?’

  Ellen looked up. ‘You never let me finish.’ She swallowed. ‘It’s fourteen.’

  Vivienne stared at her in silence. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘No.’ Ellen sipped her coffee.

  There was a beat or two of awkward silence.

  ‘Fourteen?’ her friend repeated.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fourteen?’ Vivienne asked again, as if the fact simply wouldn’t permeate.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, stop repeating it.’ Ellen sighed.

  ‘I can’t. I’m in shock. That’s a lot.’ She nodded.

  ‘Is it?’ Ellen tipped her chair back.

  ‘Yes! Well, I think so.’ She took a deep breath. ‘When did you manage that? I mean, you’ve been with Trev for ever.’

  ‘Before Trev of course. Couple at school—’

  ‘Couple at school?’ she shrieked.

  ‘Yes! For goodness’ sake, are you going to yell out or repeat everything I say?’

  ‘Quite possibly. I thought I knew everything about you – I’m shocked.’

  Ellen continued, ‘And then a few after school.’

  ‘Good Lord.’ Vivienne tutted, again.

  ‘You have to stop saying that, sounds like you’re praying for my poor deprived soul.’

  ‘I think you mean depraved and you might be right. Carry on.’ Vivienne wriggled in her seat.

  ‘Then while Trev was working away and you were hitched and popping out kids—’

  ‘But you were engaged!’ she interrupted.

  ‘Right, that’s it. I am not going to give you any more details. You clearly can’t handle the information if you’re going to keep yelling at me. Shaming me.’

  ‘Shaming you? Do you even know what that means?’ she quizzed.

  ‘No. But I read it in my magazine and thought it might be appropriate.’

  The two stared out of the window without talking, each processing the last few sentences they had exchanged.

  Ellen eventually broke the silence. ‘So, come on then, how many have you slept with?’

  ‘I don’t want to say, now.’ Vivienne looked at her lap and felt her cheeks flush.

  ‘Oh go on, you have to, now I have.’ She made it sound like it was the law. Just as she’d been doing since they were kids. ‘If I jump in, you have to as well!’ Or, ‘We have to both sign up for it, you can’t have only one of us doing karaoke, it wouldn’t be fair!’ Or, ‘We should both leave school and get jobs together, we could start a business!’ And look how far that had got them…

  Vivienne took a deep breath, knowing that her friend would pester her until she came clean. It was easier to get it over and done with. ‘Okay,’ she conceded, ‘but you are not to go on about it.’

  ‘Cross my heart.’ Ellen drew the sign with her index finger on her chest.

  ‘One,’ she whispered.

  ‘One?’ Ellen yelled.

  ‘Stop shouting!’

  ‘You shouted! I am allowed at least one shout in return.’ She paused. ‘You mean to tell me you have only ever slept with Ray?’

  Vivienne nodded.

  ‘But… But he buggered off in 1989.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Ellen, I am well aware of that fact.’ She busied herself with the cutting of her teacake.

  ‘So you haven’t slept with anyone for nearly thirty years?’

  ‘Well who did you think I’d slept with? You know everything about me. Although come to think of it, I thought I knew everything about you,’ she retorted through a narrowed mouth.

  Ellen considered this. ‘I suppose I thought you might have had a thing with Tony from the fruit and veg shop.’

  ‘Tony from the fruit and veg shop?’ She was aware that her voice had gone very high; indignation did that to her sometimes.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why on earth would you think that?’ She shook her head at her friend.

  ‘I don’t know. I guess you two just always seemed to have a giggle and I know he gave you extra sprouts and those caulis that he said were going to spoil, but he never so much as tossed me a rejected grape.’

  ‘I’ve known him for years!’

  ‘So have I,’ Ellen countered.

  ‘Honestly. Sometimes you amaze me. Tony from the fruit and veg shop…’ She rolled her eyes at the absurdity of her friend’s suggestion. ‘There’s a world of difference between someone giving you an extra sprout and having S-E-X with them.’

  ‘I was only saying,’ Ellen spoke, as if affronted.

  ‘I didn’t think you knew fourteen men.’ She looked up, as if trying to picture them.

  ‘Don’t have to know them, Viv.’ Ellen winked.

  ‘Oh just stop it!’ She shivered.

  ‘You are such a prude.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are! It’s only sex. It’s good for you – life-affirming and funny.’

  ‘Funny?’

  ‘’Tis the way I do it.’ Ellen twisted her mouth.

  ‘Everything okay, ladies?’

  Neither of them had heard Pedro creep up behind them.

  They both nodded into their hot drinks, waiting until he had left the table before squeaking their laughter behind their palms.

  ‘Haven’t you ever been curious? Or missed it?’ Ellen whispered.

  Vivienne cocked her head to one side. ‘Haven’t really thought about it too much. I just did it as and when necessary when I was married – truth is, it was more like putting the bins out or getting a spare key cut. You know, one of them jobs that you don’t look forward to but sometimes are just unavoidable.’ She looked up at her friend, who was staring at her with her mouth slig
htly agape. ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘We need to get you out there, girl. We need to get you a man.’

  Vivienne laughed, loudly. ‘Do give over. Some of us are quite happy not to have that many notches on our belt. Fourteen, oh my days…’ She sighed, shaking her head.

  ‘I mean it, Viv. You need to live a bit.’ Ellen winked at her for a second time.

  ‘I must admit, I do feel very cosmopolitan.’

  ‘Why, because you’ve discovered you can actually talk about S-E-X?’

  ‘No, because I’ve just discovered that my best friend is a tart.’

  2

  Ellen had, as ever been the distraction that helped, but as Vivienne put the key in her front door and petted the tail-wagging Bob, her smile slipped and she thought about Emma.

  ‘Shall I give her a ring, Bob? What’s the time over there now?’ She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was 10 a.m. She did the maths in her head. ‘That makes it eleven at night, might be a bit late. I’ll wait until it’s her morning.’

  The phone on the hallstand rang. The caller failed to introduce herself, but simply launched into her topic of choice, as she always did.

  ‘Okay, so it’s one thousand and forty-one pounds including a fourteen-hour stopover in Hong Kong, which means we can explore a bit – apparently they’ve got a great knock-off market. I told Trev we’re off and he says as long as I freeze him a big lasagne, stock up on Kit Kats and am home before Christmas, he doesn’t mind. I’m already packing. Do you think my blue maxi frock is too over-the-top for a wedding?’

  The two had been sharing thoughts, ideas and plans since they were small, so for a conversation to begin in this way was perfectly normal for them.

  Vivienne tried to assimilate her friend’s points. ‘How do you know that’s what it costs?’ She pulled the phone over to the stairs and sat on the bottom step.

  ‘I got Robbie to look it up on the internet, but apparently the price will go up the nearer it gets, so if we are going to go, we need to book it a bit sharpish.’

  ‘I thought I’d give Emma a ring when it’s her morning time and just check that she wants us there and all the details, before you go packing your frock and fascinator.’