This Is Your Life

by Susie Martyn

  A girl who looked about fourteen came rushing over to Lizzie, looking frightened out of her wits.

  ‘She’s in the haybarn. She looks terrible… she keeps going on about the pain…’

  Miriam looked terrible. Her face was ashen and she was convulsed in pain. Lizzie helped into a more comfortable position and looked around for a horse blanket which she gently placed over her. Then pulling her mobile out of her pocket, and ignoring Miriam’s protests, called an ambulance. Then she sat with her as they waited.

  ‘I’m so sorry about this, Lizzie,’ she gasped, closing her eyes in pain.

  ‘Sssh,’ said Lizzie quietly. ‘You mustn’t worry. Everything will be taken care of.’

  After she’d been rushed off to hospital, suddenly it seemed very quiet. Then a cow bellowed, and Sid and Johnny started to bray. It hit Lizzie. She’d thrown hay in mangers many times but what about everything else?

  Fortunately, Ally, the girl who’d alerted Lizzie in the first place, had been helping Miriam for years and together they brought the ponies in from the fields, put hay down for the goats and sheep and fed the dogs and chickens. It was dark by the time they finished and Lizzie was astounded at how long it had taken. Then the welcome sight of the lights from Tim’s land rover appeared, and his voice called across the yard.

  ‘Lizzie? Everything alright?’

  ‘No! Oh Tim – it’s Miriam! They’ve taken her to hospital. She’s in a terrible way. Ally’s helped me feed everything, but I’m going to the hospital now to see her. And there’s all this to look after tomorrow…’

  Hearing the panic in her voice, Tim took her arm. ‘Look, it’ll be fine. As long as the animals have hay and water, they’ll survive. Ally? Can you ring around and see if you can drum up an extra helper or two for tomorrow? And I’ll get on to Antonia – maybe she and Cassie will come over. And let me know what you find out about Miriam, will you?’

  Lizzie drove towards the hospital, only slightly reassured by Tim’s words. What if Miriam ended up staying in for days? Or weeks? Or never came home at all? Then, getting a grip, she stopped herself. Somehow or other, they’d manage.

  If the approach of Christmas was difficult, wandering the corridors of the hospital brought back altogether more painful memories. Of pushing her mother in a wheelchair, waiting for the results of her latest scan, hearing their worst fears voiced by the consultant ... Lizzie shook them from her mind.

  Eventually locating A & E, she enquired about Miriam, and after a short wait someone showed her through. Miriam was lying in a cubicle, looking only marginally more comfortable than earlier, with a nurse who was taking her blood pressure.

  ‘Lizzie,’ she rasped, trying to sit up. ‘I’m so worried about the farm…’

  ‘Don’t worry, everything’s fine,’ Lizzie reassured her. ‘Between us, we fed everyone. But do they know what’s wrong?’

  Miriam sighed. ‘They think it could be an ulcer. They’re about to do some tests…’

  Just then a doctor appeared. ‘Mrs Kirby? I’m Dr Ruskin. We’re taking you through now..’ He looked at Lizzie. ‘Are you family?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Miriam in a whisper. ‘You can tell her.’

  ‘Well, we think you have a perforated ulcer. How long have you been in pain?’

  ‘Not long,’ said Miriam, just as Lizzie said ‘weeks.’

  The doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘No time to lose then.’

  And so it was just as she’d wished for. A Christmas unlike any other. The show of help to look after the farm was staggering. Not only from Tim and Antonia and Cassie, but Ally had rallied an army of helpers and Miriam’s eldest son had turned up. Miriam was recovering from surgery and no-one knew when she’d be home, but meanwhile there were more than enough volunteers to cover everything. Her main concern was Boxing Day, which she anxiously told Lizzie that night, was one of their most popular times.

  ‘Can you put a notice up?’ she asked her. ‘Just explaining that we’ve had to close due to unforeseen circumstances, and will be open as soon as possible.’

  Chapter 15

  On Christmas Eve, they all crowded into the little church for midnight carols, trying not to giggle at Mrs Hepplewhite’s truly dreadful renditions on the organ, which was almost impossible after the mulled wine they’d consumed after the evening feeds at Hethecote. Cassie even dragged her favourite dog in, at which no-one batted an eyelid. Pete was there of course, bellowing surprisingly tunefully at the back, and Toby had squeezed in at the end of their pew, so that he could get up easily to do a reading. Eucalyptus skulked in the shadows, ready for a spot of bell ringing as the service came to an end and everyone trooped back out again into the cold with cries of ‘Happy Christmas’ and ‘who’s got the hip flask’. It was all jolly festive.

  For just a brief moment, amongst the crowd Lizzie caught a glimpse of him. It was that fair hair, she was sure of it … but once again, he’d vanished. She told herself she was seeing things. What would someone like him would be doing here, in Littleton of all places, on Christmas Eve...

  Later that morning, the other side of a few hours’ sleep, Lizzie had collected a sleepy Cassie and they’d headed up to Miriam’s again complete with an enormous bag of carrots - a Christmas present for the animals. Then with stables mucked out and all the hungry mouths fed, they returned to Antonia’s to drink a toast with glasses of the most potent eggnog.

  It was certainly the most eclectic Christmas gathering Lizzie had ever been part of. And with all the usual dramas... Everyone ate too much and drank too much. Eucalyptus, her straggly hair scraped into a bun and her tall, angular frame draped in black taffeta that had clearly seen better days, brought a very strange looking Christmas cake with her, which everyone ate regardless. Wafting around looking rather vacant, over the course of the day she sank an entire bottle of sherry after which she became quite weepy, inflicting the tale of her doomed exhibition on one and all.

  A captivated Toby leapt around attentively after Antonia, at her beck and call. Willingly he topped up empty glasses and handed round full ones. Having made a sterling job of carving an oversize turkey, Antonia muttering about how it should have been a lamb and a Welsh black one at that, he lit the Christmas pudding with aplomb, singing his eyebrows and nearly setting fire to the holly hanging decoratively from the beams. Undeterred and leaping up when Antonia yelled ‘fucking dog’s thrown up’, he finished the day keener than ever.

  Cassie meanwhile happily unwrapped the heaps of presents that everyone had bought for her. Lizzie had bought her a makeup set and some perfume, and Eucalyptus had knitted her a fluffy pink scarf with silver threads in. Her grandparents had also come up trumps much to Antonia’s annoyance, giving her Top Shop vouchers instead of the new saddle that her mother had been counting on. Even Toby had bought her a CD. Cassie, clearly lacking in all things girlish, delighted in each one of them, her mother having bought her yet another pair of jodhpurs. They were even joined by a Christmas Dave - which for once Antonia allowed - complete with baubles hanging from his horns.

  Later, collapsed by the roaring fire, after a riotous game of charades in which poor Eucalyptus had entertained everyone far more than she realised with her atrocious acting skills, it was with a sense of relief that Lizzie mentally ticked another box, at another milestone endured. Christmas on her own… and actually, she hadn’t endured it at all. She’d really enjoyed it.

  It was a cold, clear evening, with a million stars twinkling above and the ground already crisp underfoot. Lizzie had a warm, fuzzy feeling as she wandered up the lane, as much a result of the last sloe gin as the camaraderie of the party. She was carrying the presents she’d been given – a woolly hat from Antonia, chocolates from Cassie and a tiny framed painting from Eucalyptus which Lizzie had to admit she wasn’t keen on, but she’d been greatly touched by the gesture.

  As Lizzie unlocked her back door, she jumped as something shot inside in front of her and yowled. And as she switched the lights on, the ghost of Chri
stmas past caught up with her. There, on her answerphone was a message from the last person in the world she wanted to hear from.

  ‘Eliza? It’s me, Jamie.’ Silence. ‘Er, happy Christmas.’ More silence. ‘Wondered how you were. Thought I’d see if you’d like to go out for lunch tomorrow. I’ll call you back.’

  Lizzie was in shock. After all these months, she’d assumed that was it. She’d have to put him off. Tell him she was already busy, which she was – up at Hethecote. But a small part of her hesitated. It would be so – so satisfying to show him that she was fine, just fine, without him. She crossed her fingers. Maybe he wouldn’t ring back.

  But he did.

  ‘Eliza? I thought it would be civil to wish you a Happy Christmas,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘Jamie? Oh God. I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Maybe an apology would be a good start?’ he suggested haughtily.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course… oh I am sorry Jamie. About how I left. It wasn’t the right way to do it, but at the time…’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m well aware that you didn’t want to marry me. You don’t have to spell it out. You left some things behind. Those suits of yours. Quite expensive they were. Thought you’d want them. I could bring them over if you like.’

  There was a silence. No way did she want those suits. But Jamie as always bull-dozed right over her, and she found herself lapsing into her old ways.

  ‘Thank you…’

  Before she knew it, she’d agreed to go out for dinner with him, but even as she put the phone down, Lizzie was regretting it.

  Next morning, as she drove over to Hethecote, she still was. She’d been going to talk to Antonia about it, but when she arrived, the notice she’d drafted had been taken down and a large crowd of Miriam’s helpers had gathered.

  ‘We’ve decided we’re going to open,’ said Ally, her eyes shining. ‘There’s more than enough of us and we all know what we’re doing. You don’t think Miriam will mind do you?’ Slightly anxiously...

  ‘I think she’ll be thrilled,’ said Lizzie. ‘What would you like me to do?’

  The yard was spotless and all the stables pristine when the gates opened at midday. A steady stream of visitors kept arriving and Antonia stood by the gate, welcoming them heartily and collecting the money. Some had obviously been before and were happy to wander around unescorted, while others wanted a tour. Astounded at how the children and animals responded to each other, Lizzie understood why Miriam worked so hard.

  She had ended up taking a new family around. The little girl was like a fragile bird with stick-like limbs and stayed mostly in her wheelchair, her head leaning to one side. The mother had been dismissive right from the start, looking at her watch and pointedly avoiding any contact the animals. It was the father who’d helped his daughter out of her chair, leading her slowly by the hand towards one of the ponies.

  Lizzie had watched how Hairy Mary, an elderly Shetland pony, had turned and studied the child with the wisest kindest eyes, before reaching out and gently nuzzling her and the expression of joy on the girl’s face would be etched on Lizzie’s mind forever. It was the smallest, simplest gesture yet priceless. Even the mother had been won round by the little pony, her earlier impatience vanishing as they huddled closely, stroking her.

  Antonia came and found her later, leaning over the door to the donkeys’ stable.

  ‘Got to hand it to her! Miriam’s a marvel… She’s really onto something with this animal thing. Can’t wait to get cracking on that Ball…I was thinking the end of August – what do you think?’ Then looking at Sid and Johnny added, ‘those two are ghastly, aren’t they? Why the devil doesn’t she shoot them?’

  A day Lizzie would remember always was nearly over. It had been a huge success and they’d taken a record amount in donations. Miriam’s son was off to the hospital to report back to his mother. It was like popping a balloon when she remembered the evening that lay ahead of her.

  There was nothing for it at this late stage but to steel herself and rebelliously, Lizzie washed off the smell of the farm and dressed in her new Sparkie’s clothes. Just to make a point. This was definitely not a date. They were two mature adults and it was closure. Absolutely nothing more than that.

  If Lizzie had only stopped and thought. How far she’d come in such a short time. Offered Jamie a coffee, told him quite reasonably that actually she’d had a busy day and was too dog-tired to go out…

  In his shiny shoes and what looked like a new suit, Jamie picked his way carefully up the uneven path to her door looking like a fish out of water and before she knew it, she’d opened the door just as she’d known she would.

  He looked just the same, but then what had Lizzie expected? The neatly ironed shirt, that air of tension, that perpetual frown, as if everything constantly fell short of his expectations - nothing has changed.

  Except Lizzie clearly had. Her long hair hung in glossy waves and her skin was flushed from a day in the cold air. The faded jeans that fitted her perfectly and printed tunic in shades of soft green and turquoise harked back to the Lizzie of old – pre-Jamie. Not his style at all, but he nevertheless looked twice, with a faint expression of approval even as he bent to kiss her cheek.

  ‘Jamie, I won’t offer you a tour. It’s not your kind of house at all,’ Lizzie spoke firmly, ‘but I do know a pub that you will like. Shall we?’ And pulling on her huge furry coat, she closed the door and walked down the path, leaving him standing behind her with his mouth open. It felt good, Lizzie thought with a thrill, silencing the little voice in her head which was seriously questioning her motives.

  Boxing Day at the Old Goat was always going to be impressive, and Jamie wasn’t disappointed. He was highly enthusiastic about the locally sourced menu just as she knew he would be, waffling on pretentiously about how rare breeds such as Gloucester Old Spot really did produce extremely superior pork, blah, blah, blah. But he wasn’t so bad, in small doses. Foolishly she sipped her champagne and started to relax, forgetting entirely that was how the trouble had started in the first place.

  So when Jamie ordered more champagne, a particularly expensive vintage, it was only polite to drink some of it, especially when he raised his glass and wished her well with her new life. After her day at the farm, Lizzie was feeling on top of the world, but then suddenly across the crowded restaurant, there he was again. The man.

  Hit by the same sense of recognition as before, she looked over to meet his eyes fleetingly, just before he glanced at Jamie and looked away. After that, she sat there not taking in a word that Jamie was saying, not thinking straight at all. When she next looked over, he’d gone.

  Why it didn’t hit her there and then that she was with the wrong man, Lizzie never knew. After that, they got a taxi back to her cottage – mistake number one. Then Lizzie produced a bottle of sloe gin that she’d bought at the farmers market in Oakley – her second mistake. Collapsed in the comfy armchairs, with a roaring fire in the hearth, and ignoring Darren’s best attempts to warn her as deliberately sticking his claws into Jamie’s thigh, he then bit his hand - drawing blood. Half a bottle later, the alcohol had kicked in. Lizzie was definitely muzzy, and her judgement was looking shaky. More than usual, as she tipsily looked at Jamie who suddenly seemed rather attractive. And what was the harm in one little kiss after all those years of living together? Oh, that was quite a nice kiss, she thought, her body traiterously responding to his out of pure habit. It was all in the spirit of Christmas wasn’t it, the season of goodwill to all men…

  She forgot what she disliked about Jamie. That voice of reason that had been whispering at her all evening had finally shut up. Lizzie’d had enough of whispered doubts tonight and had long stopped listening anyway. Going to bed with Jamie seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea and she hadn’t protested. It was a long time since she’d felt a warm, naked body against hers and she realised she’d missed it, even though as always, the earth didn’t exactly move. Nice, she thought a
fterwards, but at last she knew what’s wrong! It’s an anti-climax, instead of a climax! She giggled to herself at her discovery, just as the room started to spin, her eyes close and she fell into a drunken sleep.

  Chapter 16

  All was quiet as Lizzie lay drowsily in bed the next morning - apart from the sounds of breathing from next to her. As it came to her that in fact, she wasn’t alone, she was instantly awake. A wave of utter dismay engulfed her, as it dawned on her what she’d done.

  Leaping out of bed far too quickly, Lizzie’s head thumped vengefully. She’d been saving that sloe gin too. For a special occasion. Slowly the events of the previous evening were all too painfully coming back. Oh God. She felt terrible.

  Creeping downstairs, she drank two large glasses of water and put the kettle on. Sitting at her table, waiting for what felt like an age for it to boil, she rested her pounding head in her hands. They hadn’t had they? Surely not. But she hadn’t drunk quite enough to forget that unfortunately, yes, there was no getting away from it. She was very much afraid they had.

  A little while later, there were heavy footsteps on the stairs, and Jamie appeared in the doorway. Sighing, with that familiar frown back in place, Lizzie realised how much he irritated her. Somehow it made it worse.

  ‘It’s bloody cold…’ he muttered.

  ‘Jamie…’ she started, but he put a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Don’t, Eliza,’ he said apologetically. ‘It was the champagne. I think we both know it was a mistake. It would never work between us. Can we just leave it at that? I should never have come here.’

  Relief flooded through Lizzie, but she knew she wasn’t blameless. ‘Let me make you some coffee before you leave,’ she offered, thankful he wasn’t going to argue.