From Christmas to Eternity

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Andy, what are you doing?’ she asked. ‘I know you’re angry and frustrated, but you can’t just take it out on the garden. There won’t be anything left at this rate.’

  He straightened up, threw the loppers down on the ground and pushed past her in the doorway.

  ‘Hey, Andy, talk to me.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say.’

  ‘There is. Please. Come on. Don’t be mad with me.’

  ‘I’m not mad with you. I’m just—’

  He stopped, standing there in the kitchen with a closed look on his face, and she put her arms round him and held him. He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t return the embrace, and she felt despair swamp her.

  She let him go and put the kettle on.

  ‘I’ve been to see Daisy,’ she told him. ‘The baby’s beautiful.’

  ‘I know. I was there, remember? Their perfect baby in their perfect house in their perfect life—’

  ‘Andy! What the hell’s got into you? We’ve got a pretty good life—’

  ‘Have we? You didn’t think so a few weeks ago. You threw me out, remember?’

  She felt sick. ‘We just needed space.’

  ‘Space? How much space do you need? You told me not to come back.’

  ‘Is that what this is all about? Because you got your work/life balance in a knot?’

  ‘It wasn’t in a knot. They were short staffed, they needed cover, and it’s my job. I wasn’t prepared to let them down by failing in my duty. I’ve worked damned hard to get where I am, and I’ve done it all for us. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for us. You know that, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. It doesn’t matter what I do, it’s wrong. I spend too much time at work, too much time away from the family neglecting the house and the garden, and it’s wrong. And then I’m here and I do it and it’s wrong again.’

  ‘But you’re just overdoing it. You’re so driven all the time. You say it’s for us, but it’s not, it’s for you, because you’re obsessional and you can’t seem to see that. Sometimes I think I don’t know who you are any more!’

  ‘I just want things to be right,’ he said stubbornly. ‘That doesn’t make me obsessional.’

  ‘It does if your priorities are wrong,’ she said gently.

  ‘How is making sure my family is cared for wrong?’ he asked, his voice curt.

  She sighed and stepped back, searching his eyes. ‘It isn’t. But it’s not everything. We don’t just need you working for us like some kind of robot. We need the human side of you, the loving father. And I want the man I married.’

  Except he seemed to have disappeared without trace. He still hadn’t told her again that he loved her, not since he’d been under the influence of David’s ‘happy drugs’. Maybe she should ask him for some more of them and slip them into Andy’s tea.

  Or maybe she should just accept that he didn’t love her, after all, was just doing his duty because that was the kind of man he was, and he’d never shirk his duty, not to anyone.

  In which case, she just hoped to goodness she wasn’t pregnant, because the last thing they needed was yet another child for him to feel dutiful about.

  She turned away.

  ‘It’s the nativity play tomorrow morning, and Megan’s torn her costume so I’ve got to go over to the school and see if I can fix it,’ she said, and putting Lottie in the buggy, she left him to get on with whatever he wanted to do, because right then, she was all out of words on the subject of their marriage.

  She didn’t even know if she still had one.

  * * *

  He’d massacred the garden.

  He stood in it, staring at the mess he’d made and wondering what had possessed him.

  Guilt? Grief? Uncertainty?

  All of them, probably.

  Lucy was right. Ever since his parents had died, he’d been driven, and it was wrecking their lives. And the garden, apparently. He cleared up the prunings, shredding them and scattering the shreddings under the shrubs because there was no room for them in the compost bin, and then he put the tools away and showered and went into town.

  He’d had a call from the jewellers to say that the ring was ready, and he needed to collect it.

  It looked beautiful. The repair was seamless, the worn side built up so that the diamonds were secure, and it was dazzling.

  Would she even want it? She’d told him just a few hours ago that she didn’t know who he was. Well, he didn’t, either. She wanted the man she’d married, but he wasn’t that man any more. That man had been articulate, calm under pressure, good in a crisis, able to handle anything that came into the ED with confidence. Now, he couldn’t even recall the names of the drugs.

  How could he ask her to bind herself to him for eternity?

  * * *

  He went with Lucy to the nativity play in the morning. The children were desperately excited, and Emily didn’t seem to believe that he was coming.

  ‘Will you really be there?’ she asked, and he felt the crush of guilt again.

  ‘Yes, Em, I’ll really be there. I promise.’

  And he was, sitting somewhere in the middle with Lucy, Lottie climbing around on his lap and jumping up and down and grabbing his hair until Lucy took her away because she was tugging on his still-tender scalp.

  When the girls came on stage, he could see Emily scanning the crowd looking for them, and she spotted him and beamed. He swallowed. He’d missed all of the plays to date, but so did most of the fathers. It was pretty much unavoidable and there were children whose fathers commuted to London on a daily basis. They were surely never there.

  But Ben was there, on paternity leave now, with Thomas and Daisy at his side and the new baby in his arms, watching Florence, and they looked across and smiled. The perfect family? Maybe. Lucky them, he thought bleakly.

  James was right. He should enjoy this time with his family, relish every moment of it because he was lucky to have it. So he did. He laughed, he got a lump in his throat when Emily got her words right, and he tried not to laugh when Megan tripped over her costume.

  It was an interesting nativity play. The wise men brought peace, harmony and co-operation, the stable was a garden shed and Mary and Joseph were on their way to visit their family, the Christmas story with a twist.

  Peace, harmony and co-operation, he thought. If only. Lucy had hardly spoken to him since yesterday, and she looked peaky and troubled. He thought of the ring, stashed safely in a locked drawer in his desk. Would she accept it?

  He had no idea.

  * * *

  ‘Did you like me? I got my words right!’ Emily said, bouncing with excitement as they walked home laden with shoebags and PE kit and paintings.

  ‘You did. Well done.’

  ‘And did you see me? I nearly felled off the stage!’ Megan told him.

  ‘But you didn’t, and you were very good. You were both good.’

  ‘Florence wanted to have Henrietta as baby Jesus, but Daisy wouldn’t let her. She said she was too small and she might cry, so we had Jasmine’s doll. It wees.’

  ‘Does it?’ he said, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Only if you give it water,’ Emily said. ‘Miss Richards said we couldn’t give it water so it wouldn’t wee on the stage.’

  ‘Good idea,’ he said, glancing at Lucy, but her smile was strained and she didn’t look at him, and his heart sank.

  So much for peace and harmony...

  * * *

  ‘Can we put the tree up, Mummy? Please, please!’

  Megan was fizzing with excitement, but Lucy felt hollow inside. Only not so hollow.

  ‘I expect so, if your father can get it out of the loft.’

  ‘Can we have a real one?’ Emily asked, tugging at him. ‘They smell so lovely.’r />
  ‘Can we?’ he asked Lucy, knowing she’d have an opinion.

  ‘We can’t all fit in the car with a tree.’

  ‘I’ll go, then,’ he said, and then remembered. ‘Or I’ll look after the children, rather, and you can go.’

  ‘They’ve got them at the garden centre round the corner. It’s only a few hundred yards. Can you carry it that far?’

  ‘I expect so, if it’s not eight foot tall.’

  ‘Right. Well, you take the girls and I’ll stay here with Lottie and find the decorations,’ she said, so they put their coats on and headed off.

  The girls all but dragged him to the little garden centre, and as soon as they arrived he knew he was in trouble.

  ‘Daddy, look! They’ve got Santa’s Grotto! Please can we go and see him? Please please please please pleeeeeease!’

  He looked down at Emily, her little face beseeching, and then Megan, eyes like saucers, bouncing next to him and joining in the begging, and he crumpled.

  ‘I’ll call Mummy,’ he said, and pulled his phone out. ‘Luce, hi. We may be a while. They’ve got Santa.’

  ‘Oh, the girls’ll love it!’

  She sounded wistful, as if she’d like to be there. And why not?

  ‘Why don’t you come?’ he urged, suddenly needing to have all of them together for this. ‘Bring Lottie down. It’s her first Christmas and she’s never seen him. We’ll wait for you.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, and he grinned at the girls.

  ‘Mummy’s coming and bringing Lottie to see him, too,’ he told them, and their little faces lit up.

  ‘Yay! We can see him! We can see Santa!’ Emily squealed, bouncing on the spot.

  ‘I tell you what, shall we go and choose a tree while we wait, and they can keep it for us till we go?’ he suggested, hoping the distraction would help to keep a lid on their excitement until Lucy got there.

  It worked, to his relief. They found the trees, all lined up against the fence, and started to look through them, discussing their flaws and failings. They were a motley collection, because it was only two days to Christmas and they’d left it a bit late to choose a real one, but it was what Emily wanted, and he wanted to give her what she wanted this year, because last year he hadn’t even been here for most of it.

  He chose the bushiest one which seemed well balanced, and they paid for it and had it put on one side. By the time they’d done that, Lucy had arrived with Lottie, to his relief, so with the girls fizzing with excitement again they went and queued outside Santa’s Grotto.

  It was pretty makeshift, but the girls didn’t seem to mind, and after a mercifully short time they reached the front of the queue and went in together as a family.

  ‘Three beautiful little girls? Ho-ho-ho,’ the jolly Santa said, beaming. ‘Come and sit here and tell me your name,’ he said to Emily, and she perched on the stool beside him and told him her name.

  ‘And what do you want for Christmas, Emily?’ he asked cheerfully.

  ‘I want my Daddy to be better,’ she said, her eyes welling, and Andy felt as if he’d been hit in the chest.

  He sucked in a breath and met the startled man’s eyes.

  ‘Has your Daddy been ill?’

  She nodded. ‘He had something nasty growing in his head and it was pressing on his brain, but they cut it out and now he’s getting better, but it’s too slow and it makes him cross and he makes Mummy cry.’

  Oh, God. Why, why had he thought this was a good idea?

  ‘I’m OK,’ he said, his voice ragged with emotion. ‘Em, I’m OK, darling. I’m getting better.’

  ‘Really? Promise?’

  ‘Really. Really and truly, I promise. I’m just bad tempered because it’s taking a long time, and I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be...’

  He felt Lucy squeeze his arm, and he sucked in another breath and tried to crush down the emotion that was overwhelming him.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t,’ their Santa said softly. ‘Well, young lady, I’ll have a word with the elves and we’ll see what we can do, but I think if you were to give your Daddy a cuddle, it would be all the Christmas present he would need, and I’m sure it would make him feel much better.’

  She nodded, sniffing, and he leant forwards and patted her hand. ‘Is there anything else you’d like?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. Just my Daddy back.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you go and give him that cuddle and see if it works?’ he suggested gently.

  She ran to him, burying her face in his coat, and he hugged her close, lifting her into his arms and cuddling her tight. He left Lucy dealing with Megan and Lottie. He had no idea what Megan asked for, or what Lottie made of the strange man with the crazy beard and the funny costume. He just held Emily tight until she stopped clinging to him, and then he kissed her gently and put her down, and they walked out together, Em’s hand firmly in his.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Lucy asked quietly, and he could see that her lashes were clogged with tears.

  ‘Just about,’ he said gruffly. ‘Luce, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I made you cry.’

  ‘Shh,’ she murmured, her voice gentle. ‘It’s OK, Andy. It’s just been a bit tough for all of us, but we’re getting there.’ They walked through the shop part, and she suddenly stopped and clapped her hands together. ‘Hey, girls, why don’t we go and choose some more decorations for the tree?’

  Bless her for distracting them. They found a ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ bauble for Lottie, and a little red stocking to hang on the fireplace with the others, and a new angel for the top of the tree. And then they collected the tree and he carried it home.

  By the time they got there he was regretting not going for a scrawny one, but once it was in the pot and his arm had stopped aching, he was sure it would be fine.

  ‘It’s a bit crooked, Daddy,’ Em said, snuggling up to him and studying it thoughtfully.

  It was. The trunk kinked half way up and then carried on straight up, so if they looked at it side on they could see it, but it went in a corner so it didn’t really matter. And Emily was right, it did smell lovely.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, you have to do the lights,’ Megan said, dragging them out of the box.

  ‘Carefully. Give them to me.’

  He untangled them, which would have been easier without his helper, and threaded them round the tree, and then the girls and Lucy hung the baubles on it, Em and Megan doing the lowest ones, Lucy standing on a chair while he held it steady so she could do the higher ones.

  She leant over to put the new angel on the top and he put his hands on her hips and anchored her, then lifted her down and kissed her. Just a fleeting touch of his lips, but she seemed a little distracted and he didn’t know why.

  ‘That looks lovely,’ she said, smiling brightly, but he could see it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Good work, everyone. Shall we have some tea and cake?’

  ‘Yay, cake!’ Em said, dancing into the kitchen on tiptoes, and he cleared up the boxes and put them back in the loft, wondering what was wrong with Lucy.

  Was she getting round to telling him that this would be their last Christmas together as a family? He didn’t know, and he’d given up trying to second-guess her, but then he hadn’t realised that he’d made her cry, either.

  Feeling slightly sick with apprehension, he went back down to the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t give me any cake,’ he told her. ‘I’ve got things to do.’

  And he shut himself in his study, sat down at his desk and unlocked the drawer. The ring, nestled in its original velvet box, sparkled at him mockingly.

  ‘Oh, Lucy,’ he sighed, and shut the drawer, locked it again and took Stanley for a walk.

  * * *

  The supermarket would be a nightmare, and going there was the last thing
she wanted to do after she finished her surgery on Christmas Eve morning. She hadn’t wanted to work the shift, and she remembered the grief she’d given Andy just a year ago because he’d been working Christmas Eve.

  She felt such a hypocrite, and racked with guilt, because she realised now that sometimes you just had to do what you had to do, no matter how unwelcome it might be.

  Like the last-minute shopping. She’d done most of the shopping a few days earlier, but there were a few things she still had to get, so she dived into the supermarket on the way home and got the rest.

  Not that she felt like cooking. The queasiness she’d been feeling for the last week or so was still there, lurking in the background, and just to set her mind at rest she picked up a pregnancy test on her way to the checkout.

  It burned a hole in her handbag all the way home, and she unloaded the shopping, opened the fridge and saw the turkey and the stuffing, and drew the line.

  She’d do it tomorrow morning. No doubt the children would be up at six at the latest, so there’d be plenty of time to stuff it and get it

  in the oven in time. They were watching a film on the television, Andy in the middle, Lottie asleep on his lap and the girls on either side snuggled up against him.

  Taking the slim box out of her handbag, she went upstairs to their bathroom, locked the door and opened the packet.

  * * *

  ‘Is that everything?’

  ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘I hope so. There seems to be a lot.’

  The girls were finally in bed asleep, and they were on the floor by the tree, stacking presents for the children.

  ‘They’re all for the children,’ she told him, feeling flat and despondent and tearful. ‘I haven’t got you a present. I didn’t know what to get you. It’s not that I didn’t want to give you anything, I just feel I don’t know you any more, and I had no idea what you’d like.’

  His eyes softened. ‘Oh, Lucy, you don’t need to give me anything.’

  ‘There is one thing,’ she said, her heart hitching a little. ‘It’s not really a present, and I don’t know if you’ll even want it, but it’s a bit late to worry about that now. It’s not the sort of thing you can take back.’ She took a deep breath, then said, ‘I’m pregnant.’