I Won't Be Home For Christmas

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘I’ll give it five more rings, Bob.’ She counted in her head. One… Two… Three… And just as she was deciding on the best message to leave on the answerphone, someone picked up.

  ‘Hello?’ The male voice sounded young and impatient.

  ‘Oh, hi!’ She smiled, happy to have got through. ‘Can I speak to Ray, please?’ she chirped.

  There was a slight delay on the line.

  ‘No, sorry, you can’t. It’s just gone midnight.’

  ‘Oh God.’ She closed her eyes, cringing. ‘I forgot the time difference. I’m used to phoning from Auckland and I forgot. Did I wake everyone up?’ She realised that she was probably speaking to her brother.

  ‘No, you’re good. I’m a friend of his son’s. Ray’s out with his daughter – they went for dinner and a late movie. Can I take a message?’

  Emma tried to hold the phone steady. She tried to picture what it might be like to have a dad who would take you out for supper and then a film. A dad who was around…

  ‘Hello? Can I take a message?’ the voice asked again.

  ‘No. I’m sorry to have bothered you.’ She slowly put the phone back in its cradle and set it on the floor.

  She sat there just long enough to finish her mug of tea and for her bum to go numb, when a knock on the door roused her. She twisted the unfamiliar lock to find Shaun Lewis standing on the doorstep with his hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket.

  ‘All right, Em?’ He spoke as if he had seen her yesterday and not four years ago, when she was last home.

  ‘All right, Shaun?’

  ‘Bloody cold, innit?’ He shivered.

  She nodded. Yes, it was.

  ‘Thought you were off in New Zealand, getting married?’ his tone was matter of fact.

  ‘I was, but it didn’t really work out.’

  ‘Bummer.’ He sniffed.

  ‘Yep, bummer.’

  ‘Your mum not here?’ He peered past her, towards the kitchen. ‘My mum wants to know if she’s got any mixed peel. I don’t even know what that is to be honest.’ He shook his head and jogged on the spot to keep warm.

  ‘No, she’s not, and I wouldn’t know where to look.’ She shook her head, as her tears gathered and spilled down her cheeks.

  ‘What you crying for?’ He grimaced.

  She shrugged her shoulders and wiped her nose. ‘Lots of things,’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, it’s nearly Christmas, so you can cut that out for a start.’ He sniffed. ‘Fancy a lunchtime pint up the Rising Sun?’

  Emma sighed and grabbed her mum’s old jacket from the back of the door. A pint in the pub sounded like a plan.

  ‘Why not.’ She bent down and spoke to Bob. ‘I’m nipping out, Bob, but I shan’t be long. See you in a bit. Be a good boy.’

  She closed the door behind her and linked arms with Shaun, as they walked up Mendip Road heading towards Cotswold Road.

  ‘You had a nice time away, then?’ Shaun asked casually.

  ‘I’ve been gone four years, Shaun, that’s a big deal, it’s not just time away, that makes it sound like a holiday. I’ve been travelling.’

  ‘Four years, blimey, that’s a long time. I’d get bored. Didn’t you want to arrive?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She looked up at him.

  ‘Well, four years of travelling, that’s like going round in circles, isn’t it? Reckon it’s about time someone got their arse into gear and got a job.’

  Emma laughed out loud. ‘Did my mum tell you to say that?’

  ‘No!’ He laughed too, although he wasn’t sure what they were laughing at. It felt good nonetheless. They walked speedily along the pavement.

  ‘Sorry to hear about you and Nat.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I liked her.’

  ‘Ah well, Nat’s a good girl and all that, but she wasn’t for me.’

  ‘You don’t sound too upset about it all, Shaun. If you don’t mind me saying.’

  He stopped walking and looked at the girl who had been his friend since primary school. ‘That’s because, as I have always told you, thing have a habit of turning out right in the end.’

  Emma smiled at him and hoped that this was true.

  ‘Malago’s frozen. Means we don’t need to go and dig out the skateboard. I dare you to walk on it!’ He nodded towards the twist of river just out of sight.

  Emma paused and looked at Shaun.

  ‘I will if you will.’ She glanced to the left, planning her route.

  ‘You’re on.’

  With that, she ran across the road and into St John’s Burial Ground, across the grass and down the bank, chased by Shaun, and screaming as she went.

  *

  Ellen shivered. It was a cold day. The frost had hardened on the pavements and everyone was bundled into layers, walking with their heads pulled into their shoulders, neckless, hoping that this might increase their temperature by a couple of degrees. She rang the doorbell of the house in Mendip Road and was surprised when Shaun Lewis opened the front door. ‘All right, Mrs Nye?’

  ‘Not bad, Shaun, you?’ she asked, as she walked into the familiar hallway.

  ‘Elle!’ Emma called from the kitchen. ‘Look, I’ve put all the little foil trees out. I found them in the loft and we’re sorting the fairy lights. We’re making Santa’s Grotto in the front room, Shaun’s helping me with the sign.’

  He held up a marker pen, as if proof of his role was required. Ellen smiled at the way Emma had roped Shaun into her plan. She smiled; it was obvious that the boy didn’t mind her crazy. The radio was turned up, the lamps were on and Bob was sprawled on the rug in front of the fire. Ellen tried to remember the last time the house had felt so alive and figured it was when they were in their teens, getting ready to go out of a Saturday night, with Viv’s mum in the kitchen cooking supper and her dad in his chair, with the telly blaring in the front room.

  ‘I only popped in to see how you were doing?’ She felt a wave of emotion at being inside this house without her best friend in it. She didn’t like it one bit.

  ‘I’m doing great. Aaron and Lizzie and her parents are coming over for Boxing Day, please tell me you and Trev and Robbie and everyone can make it too? I am making homemade sausage rolls and I am stealing your eggnog recipe. Might even do a trifle.’

  ‘We’ll be here love, don’t you worry.’ Ellen smiled. ‘Heard from your mum?’

  ‘I had a text the day before yesterday, but truthfully, Elle, I’ve been so busy since we got back, time’s flying. We went to listen to the carol singers yesterday outside Asda, it was lovely, got me in the mood.’ She gave a little shimmy.

  ‘Well, good for you. Anyway I’m not staying, only wanted to check on you.’ She felt, as if she was gatecrashing.

  ‘No, don’t go, please stay and have a cup of tea!’ Emma pleaded.

  ‘I can’t love, got to get back to Trev, maybe tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, come and knock for me and we can take Bob for a wander.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Ellen let herself out of the house and walked the familiar route to Pedro’s without any great sense of urgency. It didn’t feel the same.

  She pushed open the door and took up her seat with her back to the window, but a couple of minutes later she moved to Vivienne’s seat opposite, with a view out on to the street. It gave her some comfort to be sitting in her friend’s chair and to know Vivienne would be back in her rightful place again soon. Her return home couldn’t come soon enough. Ellen missed her dreadfully. There were a dozen times in the day when she thought of something she wanted to share, something that only her best friend would truly appreciate.

  ‘Hey, Ellen!’ Pedro swanned over to the table with his tea towel tucked into his Christmas apron. ‘What do you think?’ He plucked the fabric, showing her the garish picture of a fat Santa holding a cup of coffee.

  ‘Very you,’ she said.

  ‘How’s Bob? I do miss him. It was lovely having that little fella around.’

  ‘He’s great, keepi
ng an eye on Emma. He’ll be glad to have Viv home.’ She nodded.

  ‘Bet he’s not the only one. You look like you lost a quid and found a penny.’

  She smiled. That was exactly how she felt.

  ‘I know what will cheer you up – a nice latte and a toasted teacake. What do you say?’ he smiled.

  Ellen wasn’t used to feeling so melancholy. ‘Actually, Pedro, I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll just go home. See you soon, though. Thanks, love.’

  She stood up and bustled her way between the tables and back out into the cold. The thought of sitting alone at their table and watching the world go by was more than she could bear.

  ‘All right, Elle?’ Mr Figgis waved from the other side of the street. She waved back. ‘Where’s your mate?’ he asked, looking up and down the road to see if she was close by.

  ‘She’s… she’s on her way, be back soon!’ She tried to sound bright, as she hurried home, hoping she wouldn’t bump into anyone else en route.

  As she placed her key in the front door, she heard Vivienne’s voice coming from the kitchen and her heart leapt. Beaming, she shrugged her arms from her coat and unwound the scarf from her neck. She was back, the dark horse! Chatting to Trev! Her heart swelled with happiness, how she had missed her.

  She hung her coat on the hook by the door and was hurrying down the hall when Trev shouted out to her. ‘Elle! Quick! It’s Viv on Skype. She’s only just called, come on!’

  Ellen’s heart sank. The disappointment was huge. She had thought the wait was over. She walked in and stood behind her husband, resting her hand on his shoulder and listening. She bent low and gave her friend a small wave. She could see the darkness through the window and did the calculations: it would be half ten at night. Vivienne was wearing a soft tunic, one they’d picked up in Primark only weeks ago. It felt like a lot longer. The windows and doors were all open. Ellen knew it would still be hot and as she briefly closed her eyes, she caught the scent of hydrangeas, as her memory played a trick on her. It was, as ever, intoxicating.

  *

  Vivienne was sitting at the breakfast table in the vast kitchen at Aropari. She bent her head, as if peering into the camera and gave a small wave back to Ellen, who had come into the room and was now standing behind her husband. Trevor showed no sign of shifting from his seat. Not just yet.

  ‘Well, good for you, girl. Good for you. That’s a turn-up for the books! It’s a bit of a shock, but I do understand.’ He chuckled.

  Vivienne tried to gauge Ellen’s expression. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to her yet, and Trev was rather robbing her of the moment.

  ‘I should have said this a long time ago, Viv,’ he said, ‘but I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. What are you sorry for?’ Vivienne lowered her voice. Despite the slight flickering on the screen, she could see his pained expression, his hesitation. He looked to the side, avoiding her gaze. ‘I knew Ray was up to no good.’

  ‘With Suzanne, you mean?’

  He nodded. ‘And others.’

  ‘I guessed as much. Not at the time, of course – I didn’t want to think about it then – but I’ve had a lot of opportunity to think about it since. I was quite naive.’

  ‘Not naive, Viv. Lovely. You were lovely and he was a shit and he didn’t deserve you.’ He swallowed. ‘I fell out with him long before he went, argued with him, told him he was an idiot, but he didn’t listen to me, didn’t listen to anyone.’

  ‘Thank you for that Trev.’ She shrugged. ‘And for what it’s worth, I don’t blame you, not in any way. I did a bit, maybe, for a while, and I’m sorry for that.’ She rubbed her face. ‘What a carry-on.’

  ‘Yep.’ It was that.

  ‘I suppose Elle’s told you all about him pitching up here as if there was nothing amiss.’

  ‘She did.’ He nodded.

  ‘Hey ho.’ She sighed. ‘You know, it was all a very long time ago. I think it’s time we all moved on, no hard feelings. Look after my mate for me, won’t you?’

  ‘Always.’ He smiled and slid from the chair so that Ellen could sit down.

  *

  Vivienne watched him creep from the room and close the kitchen door behind him.

  And there she was, her best friend, filling the screen. Sitting in the kitchen that she knew so well, as familiar to her as her own. In the background she spied cups that she’d drunk coffee from and then popped into the dishwasher on countless occasions. On the fridge sat a magnet saying Bring me chocolate and no one will get hurt that she’d picked up as a gift for Ellen when they were in Morecambe. It was a weird feeling to have Ellen beamed into the kitchen of Aropari, all the way from her hometown, three streets from where she’d grown up and over eleven thousand miles from where she was now.

  Vivienne had told herself to be strong and to stay calm, but at the sight of her friend her resolve melted. Her sob came instantly and powerfully, knocking the air from her lungs and leaving her breathless. Her tears fogged her vision and made her nose run. There was the unmistakeable sound of identical sobbing, carried across the oceans to where she sat.

  The two women stared at each other, separated for the first time since they were children.

  Vivienne shifted closer to the screen and, lifting her hand, she placed her palm flat against the screen. Ellen did the same and there they sat, with fingertips separated by ten millimetres of technology. Rivers of tears snaked down their faces and their breath came in stuttered starts, as they sat there without saying anything, both trying to process their immeasurable sense of loss.

  Ellen knew what was happening. Vivienne didn’t have to speak and she didn’t have to ask. If she was honest, she had known it was going to happen from that moment on the kerb outside the airport when her best friend had confidently strolled towards the bus stop, as if walking towards a brighter future. She opened her mouth, but the gulping sobs robbed her of breath and the ability to speak.

  They sat like this for some minutes, until eventually, almost spent, they both ferreted around for kitchen roll and blew their noses and wiped their eyes.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Viv,’ Ellen managed.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Elle.’ Her words were faint.

  Both felt the next sob building in their chests, blocking their throats and misting their eyes.

  ‘Goodbye, Viv.’

  ‘Goodbye, my Elle.’

  14

  One year later

  Handing him a glass of wine, Vivienne watched as Gil rummaged on the shelves of the fridge for snacks to take out to the deck. She pushed open the sliding glass door that led out to the terrace, smiling at the view that greeted her, wondering if she would ever get sick of it, and feeling smug, knowing that she wouldn’t. To watch the seasonal shifts in the landscape of Tutukaka had been her greatest joy, and now it was summer and the green lawn was edged once again with magnificent hydrangeas. The little goat bleated at the sight of her and trotted on the grass, leaping with joy.

  She knew exactly how he felt.

  Seabirds swooped and called, as the sun prepared to sink below the horizon, bathing everything in a pinkish glow. There were no tall buildings, no traffic, and the air was indeed like nectar. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves. This sound of nature chattering was the sweetest music. It was heaven. Perfect, quiet and peaceful.

  Gil frowned at his fiancée. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

  ‘Just how lucky I am.’ She sipped her wine, leaning on the doorframe.

  A loud woof came from the corridor; it seemed that Bob was disgruntled about something. She walked into the hallway. Her breath still caught in her throat at the sight of the towering Christmas tree, laden with red and gold baubles and other trinkets that filled the cathedral-like space with its grand presence. The numerous strings of fairy lights that she and Gil had spent a whole day draping meticulously over the sharp branches twinkled in the low evening light. The effect was stunning.

  She stooped to chat to Bob, as Tessa nuzzled him in the
side. Even though he’d been with her in Tutukaka for almost ten months now, fully micro-chipped and with his own passport, he was still a little wary of Tessa’s funny foreign ways. ‘Is she annoying you again, Bob? She loves you, that’s the thing, fella and she just wants to snuggle. And I can’t blame her, you are utterly gorgeous!’ He placed his nose on his paws and ignored the compliment. ‘Hang in there, Tess, you lovely girl. He’ll come around.’ She winked.

  Vivienne loved this time of day. After many hours spent working at her new cottage-industry business, spinning and dyeing the wool from which she made garments fit to be branded with the Aropari label, she looked forward to the evenings the most. This was when she and Gil took to the deck, watched the sun go down and sat arm in arm on the sofa, nattering about nothing much in particular. When it rained, they sat in the kitchen and watched the water splashing on the terrace; when cold, they retired to the sitting room and threw a couple of logs on the fire, toasting their bodies in front of the flames as they sprawled on the sofa. And when called for, Gil fetched her socks from the laundry room and popped them over her chilly toes.

  Gil patted the space next to him on the sofa and she wandered over, slotted in and nestled next to him, with her feet curled under her.

  ‘I can’t believe my bestie’s coming over and she’s already in full planning mode.’ She hunched her shoulders in excitement.

  ‘God help us all,’ Gil said. ‘A lot’s happened since she was last here.’

  ‘It has.’ She thought about that fateful trip twelve months earlier. And for the first time in a long time she thought about Ray and how he had appeared, as if magicked from thin air. She was grateful, however, for the speedy, no-nonsense divorce that had been granted. These days she rarely thought about him, apart from when Emma or Aaron mentioned their sporadic and ever dwindling contact with him. He had enquired as to whether Michael or Gil might like to invest in his business but they had declined to respond. She was hurt on their behalf – her two wonderful kids definitely deserved more – but it was no surprise.