A Very Lucky Christmas

by A Very Lucky Christmas (retail) (epub)

  ‘What did you wish for?’

  Elsie said, ‘Don’t tell, Daisy, otherwise it won’t come true.’

  ‘Since when did you believe in sixpences?’ Gwenda demanded. ‘You’re too miserable to believe in anything! You’ve never been the same since that man of yours did a runner.’

  ‘Pudding anyone?’ Daisy asked, seeing the very real possibility of the once-civilised meal deteriorating into a verbal mud-slinging match. Exactly the same thing had happened last year, except Elsie had started it first. This year it appeared to be Gee-Gee’s turn.

  ‘I’ll have some,’ David replied, gamely, as he held out his hand for a bowl.

  Zoe shook her head, and Daisy thought the girl didn’t look at all well.

  ‘Gee-Gee?’ Daisy asked, praying she’d managed to head things off at the pass.

  ‘And whose fault was that?’ Elsie demanded.

  ‘Gee-Gee? Pudding?’ Daisy tried again, hearing the slight sound of desperation in her own voice.

  ‘Yours, that’s who!’ Elsie continued. ‘You frightened him off.’

  ‘If your daughter had come home at eighteen and told you she was up the duff, you’d frighten off the bloke who’d got her that way, too,’ Gee-Gee said.

  ‘Nan? Pudding?’ Daisy pleaded, looking at David for help when Elsie failed to respond. David had his head down and his gaze on his own bowl, and was pretending he was deaf.

  Daisy saw her sister-in-law kick him on the shin, and he looked up at his wife in confusion. Zoe waggled her eyebrows at him, and jerked her head at the combatants.

  ‘Oh, er, right. Now?’ David asked.

  Zoe nodded.

  ‘We was going to get married, before you went and interfered,’ Elsie stated.

  Daisy decided she’d done all she could, and it was best to keep out of it and let the two old biddies have their slanging match, so she turned her attention to her own dessert and spooned some of the pudding into her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was actually quite good, and the brandy sauce set it off nicely. Why hadn’t she eaten Christmas pudding before now? Why hadn’t she made it before now?

  David clinked his spoon against the side of his glass. Everyone ignored him.

  ‘Bah!’ Gwenda fired back. ‘He got what he wanted from you, then he took off like a rat up a drainpipe when he saw the size of your belly. And who ended up looking after you and your baby, eh? Me, that’s who!’ Gwenda tried to poke herself in the chest with a distorted finger.

  ‘I didn’t ask you to!’ Elsie cried, snatching up an empty bowl and angrily dolloping a generous helping of Christmas pudding into it.

  ‘We’re pregnant,’ David said.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, David,’ Gwenda said. ‘Your grandmother got herself pregnant.’

  ‘It takes two, you know,’ Elsie retorted. ‘I didn’t do it all by myself.’

  ‘No, but you had to raise the baby all by yourself, didn’t you?’ Gee-Gee’s face creased into a smirk.

  ‘I thought you just said you raised the baby,’ Elsie countered.

  ‘Pregnant?’ Sandra repeated.

  ‘Keep up,’ Gwenda grumbled. ‘Of course, your mother was pregnant. How do you think you got here?’

  Daisy shot a swift glance at Zoe, who was staring down at her hands as they twisted in her lap. No wonder her sister-in-law was upset. Daisy’s family was enough to upset a gang of football hooligans on the way to a match. This sort of squabble tended to happen quite often between the three women, which was possibly one of the reasons why Freddie always found some excuse or another to avoid Sunday lunch at Sandra’s house.

  ‘I’m not talking about Mum,’ Sandra said.

  ‘Who are you talking about, then?’ Elsie asked, and Daisy, sensing she’d missed something important, hurriedly shoved the last spoonful of pudding into her mouth.

  ‘Zoe, my lovely wife,’ David said, ‘is expecting a baby.’

  Daisy tried to swallow the mouthful of pudding and speak at the same time. She took a breath, felt something hard hit the back of her throat and swallowed convulsively. It was stuck. She tried to swallow again, but it didn’t budge. When she tried to take another breath, she realised what had happened.

  That bloody sixpence!

  Chapter 10

  ‘What do you mean “pregnant”?’ Elsie asked at the same time as Sandra cried, ‘How lovely!’

  Daisy, meanwhile, carried on quietly choking.

  She couldn’t breathe. It was stuck in her windpipe, a solid lump, going neither up nor down.

  She slapped the table, and the three older women joined in with Daisy’s apparent delight, began to clap and cheer.

  ‘Woohoo, our David’s going to be a daddy,’ Sandra shouted.

  ‘I hope it’s a girl,’ Elsie said.

  ‘A boy would be lovely,’ Gee-Gee chimed in, and mother and daughter glared at each other.

  ‘Daisy?’ Zoe asked. ‘Are you alright?’

  Did she bloody look alright? She was choking for God’s sake. Maybe even dying.

  Her sight dimmed, her chest was on fire, and her head felt really woozy. Suddenly Daisy was very, very frightened, indeed; her lungs hurt as she struggled for breath and her eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of her head.

  ‘Daisy!’ Zoe leaned closer. The rest of Daisy’s family were too busy congratulating Saint David on his prowess in the bedroom, to notice they would soon have a one in/one out situation on the family front, if someone didn’t get her some medical attention fast.

  Sodding hell! What a way to go – choking to death on a silver sixpence.

  A massive blow on the back sent Daisy face first into what was left of the Christmas pudding.

  She came up coughing and spluttering, drawing deep breaths into her beleaguered lungs, pudding all over her face and in her hair. It took few seconds to realise she could breathe properly again. It also took a few seconds to realise something else.

  She’d swallowed the sixpence.

  And to think, when she’d stirred it into the pudding, all Daisy had been worried about were a few little germs. The damned thing had almost suffocated her.

  ‘Are you okay now?’ Zoe asked, and Daisy nodded, uncertainly.

  ‘You’re such a messy eater, Daisy Jones,’ her mother said, noticing Daisy for the first time since David had made his announcement. ‘Go and get yourself cleaned up, you’re a disgrace.’

  Daisy took another deep, welcome lungful of air, and announced, ‘I think I’m going to die.’

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. It’s just a bit of Christmas pudding.’ That was from Elsie.

  ‘That “bit of Christmas pudding” almost killed me,’ Daisy proclaimed, and Zoe nodded her agreement. ‘I think I’ve swallowed that sixpence.’

  Silence.

  Everyone stared at Daisy.

  ‘Right.’ David, with his saintly disposition, took charge. ‘Let’s get you to A&E.’

  ‘She doesn’t need to go to Accident and Emergency. It’s an itty bitty sixpence. It’ll come out the other end in a day or so,’ Gwenda said. ‘What is it they say these days? Drama Queen, that’s it. Our Daisy’s a drama queen.’

  ‘I nearly choked on it,’ Daisy said, banging her fist on the table. ‘If it wasn’t for Zoe, I would have died.’

  Zoe, with big blue eyes and a solemn expression, nodded again.

  ‘You let a pregnant girl save your life?’ Elsie cried. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’

  David pushed away from the table and stood up. ‘Daisy, get your coat.’ He turned to the rest of the family. ‘We won’t be long, but I do think she needs to get checked out. It could have damaged her trachea, or it might become stuck in her bowels.’

  Great, Daisy thought, stuck in my bowels – what a truly disgusting way to go.

  ‘Will you be alright?’ David asked Zoe.

  Zoe nodded. Her sister-in-law had gone from giggles to nods, and she still didn’t say much. Not that Daisy blamed her; the other women more than made u
p for Zoe’s silence. It was a wonder anyone else could get a word in edgeways with that lot squabbling and cackling.

  Daisy got to her feet, on slightly wobbly legs. ‘Thank you,’ she said to Zoe. ‘Oh, and congratulations.’

  Zoe smiled and Daisy followed David out into the cold, snowy afternoon.

  It was only three o’clock but it seemed far later. The sky pressed down on her and the street lights were just coming on. Neither Daisy nor David spoke on the short journey to the hospital, Daisy because her throat hurt and she had nothing to say, and David because he had to concentrate hard on driving. It had more or less stopped snowing, but the stuff that had fallen lay in a slushy, slippery blanket on the roads and pavements. Few other drivers were brave enough or stupid enough to venture out, but some vehicles had left tracks on the road, and David stuck religiously to them, driving slowly with extreme caution. It would have been quicker to walk.

  Daisy wanted to yell at him to hurry up, before this thing inside her exploded, or gave off radioactive waves to rot her from the inside out, or ripped her bowels apart, but she said nothing, not wanting to disturb her brother’s concentration, because it would be just her luck to have an accident on the way to the hospital.

  Talking of luck, that sixpence hadn’t been too lucky for her, had it? First, it had tried to choke her, and when that failed, it was now going to block up her innards or something equally horrible. Not only that, but just at the moment when she’d popped it into her mouth, David had announced he was going to be a father.

  She was pleased for her brother, but at the same time envy poked Daisy in the stomach. No wonder Zoe had looked peaky, was off her food and had refused any alcohol. The woman was pregnant, having a baby, up the duff, as her great-gran so eloquently phrased it.

  Daisy would donate a kidney to be in her sister-in-law’s shoes. Longing, so strong it caught her breath, rose up in her chest. It should be her, Daisy, who was expecting a baby, her and Freddie. They’d been a couple much longer than David and Zoe. Two years longer. It should have been Daisy’s turn.

  But there was no Daisy and Freddie anymore, was there? And Daisy’s brother was proving how charmed his life was, by becoming a parent before her.

  Lucky, lucky Zoe.

  ‘Are you alright?’ David asked, risking a quick glance at her face.

  Daisy wished people would stop asking her that, when she clearly wasn’t alright. ‘How far along is she?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Nearly twelve weeks. We were going to leave it until after we’d opened the presents, but with Nan and Gee-Gee kicking off…’ he ground to a halt.

  ‘I’m really pleased for you,’ Daisy said, and she found she meant it, despite her envy and her longing. She was going to be an aunt! ‘You’ll be a great dad,’ she added.

  ‘Do you think so?’ David looked worried, petrified almost. ‘We’ve talked about it, and had fun…’ he coughed, ‘er… making it, but now that it’s actually happened…’ He risked another quick glance at Daisy. ‘I’m scared. What if he or she doesn’t like me?’ He sounded worried, just like he used to when they were kids, and Daisy had tried to talk him into doing something he thought he might get told off for.

  ‘Of course the baby will like you. It’ll love you, you’ll be its dad. Anyway, it won’t have any choice, I think it’s hotwired into babies, or something, that they have to love their parents.’

  ‘Thanks,’ David said dryly, pulling into the hospital’s car park then into a space. The place was surprisingly empty. Maybe the weather had put people off.

  Always the gentleman, David helped her out of the car, and Daisy stood on uncertain legs whilst he fed the parking meter. The cold seeped through her shoes, and when she wiggled her feet they felt wet too. She looked down, and realised she still had her slippers on. Could the day get any worse?

  A&E was equally quiet inside, she noticed as they took a seat in the waiting room. A couple of families were there with children sporting an assortment of injuries, an old man with his wife, and a youth with blood on his face – the usual varieties of festive casualties. It wasn’t long before Daisy’s name was called.

  ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ David asked.

  ‘You’d better,’ Daisy threatened. ‘They might do anything to me in there – I want a witness.’

  They followed a nurse through a security door and into the treatment area where she showed them into a cubicle.

  ‘Doctor will be with you shortly,’ she said. ‘In the meantime, I need to take some details.’

  The list of questions was endless, and when they got to the part about what happened, Daisy had a sneaking suspicion the nurse was trying not to smile.

  ‘You must see this all the time,’ Daisy said. ‘People swallowing things.’

  ‘It’s normally young children who swallow coins,’ the nurse said, and Daisy felt like a right idiot. ‘Is this gentleman your next of kin?’ she continued, glancing at David.

  Daisy shrugged and nodded. He’d be better in an emergency than her mother, and he was right here if she had to be whisked into theatre for an operation, and something needed to be signed.

  ‘Name?’ the nurse asked.

  ‘David Jones,’ Daisy replied, watching the nurse write it down. ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Doctor will be with you shortly,’ she said, and left.

  Was that a good sign or a bad one? If the nurse wasn’t prepared to, or allowed to tell Daisy anything, maybe it was because it was serious. Maybe the sixpence was poisonous or—

  ‘Hello? I’m Dr Hartley.’ A man in a white coat pushed through the curtains surrounding the cubicle. ‘Daisy Jones?’

  Daisy nodded and her heart did a little flip of excitement. This man was scrummy. Tousled dark hair, closely-trimmed beard, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen on a bloke. She couldn’t really tell, but she thought he might be fit under that white coat.

  Damn! Why couldn’t she have met him when she didn’t have a coin leaking toxic chemicals into her stomach and when she wasn’t wearing her bunny slippers.

  ‘And you are…?’ the doctor asked her brother.

  ‘David Jones.’

  ‘Right.’ The doctor turned his attention back to Daisy. He had long, black eyelashes, she noticed. ‘What can we do for you?’

  ‘We were having Christmas lunch and my nan and great-gran were arguing, and to shut them up David said he was having a baby. Not him having it, obviously—’

  ‘Can I stop you there, a second? What about swallowing a coin?’

  ‘Oh, yes, right. My great-gran wanted to put a silver sixpence in our Christmas pudding because, according to her, it brings good luck, and she thought I could do with some. Well, she’s right actually, I do need some good luck because—’

  Dr Hartley held up a hand. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got other patients waiting. Are you telling me you swallowed a coin in a pudding?’

  ‘Yes.’ Daisy nodded. ‘Am I going to die?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Daisy looked horrified.

  ‘Everyone dies at some point, but I’m fairly sure you won’t be pushing up daisies any time soon.’ The doctor chuckled at his own joke, and Daisy narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘Will it make me ill?’ she asked, hoping for a bit of sense this time.

  ‘Unlikely.’ He took her face in his hands, and she tried not to jerk away as a bolt of electricity shot through her at his touch. Oh my!

  ‘Does that hurt?’ he asked, turning her head this way and that, whilst staring deeply into her eyes, and stroking a thumb down the side of her neck.

  ‘Um… no.’ It actually felt nice, really nice. He had strong hands with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails.

  ‘Open your mouth for me,’ he said.

  Daisy opened her mouth, hoping she didn’t have a piece of carrot or something equally offensive stuck in her teeth. He tilted her head to the side, peering down her throat, then dropped his hands to his sides, and peered intently at
her. He then reached towards her again and lifted a strand of her hair. His quizzical look almost made her faint, as his lips turned up into a smile.

  ‘If I’m not mistaken, Daisy, you have Christmas pudding in your hair.’

  ‘Oh, yes, um.’ Yuk. She hadn’t had time to get it all out of her hair before David had ushered her into the car. ‘I sort of fell face first into it when Zoe slapped me on the back. Zoe is—’

  ‘Is the slap relevant?’

  ‘Yes. You see, I was choking on the sixpence and couldn’t breathe. I really thought I was going to die, then Zoe thumped me, and I started breathing again, and that’s when I realised I’d swallowed it.’

  ‘Let’s quickly check you over,’ he said, and Daisy had the irreverent thought that she’d be happy letting him check out anything he damned well pleased.

  ‘Are you having any difficulty swallowing?’ he asked.

  Daisy swallowed. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Any problems with your breathing now?’

  Daisy inhaled and let it out again. ‘No.’

  ‘Any pain or discomfort in your throat?’

  ‘It’s a bit sore.’

  He asked her to open her mouth again, and he peered inside, shining a light down her throat.

  ‘I’m reluctant to do anything more invasive at this point,’ he said. ‘There may be a small amount of swelling, but nothing to worry about, but if you have any difficulty breathing, come straight back to A&E.’

  ‘Is that it?’ Daisy asked. ‘What about the sixpence?’

  ‘It should pass through your digestive tract in a matter of days. Are you regular?’

  ‘Eh?’ She so didn’t want to be discussing her toilet habits with this man, doctor or not.

  ‘Your bowel movements, are they regular?’

  Daisy shrugged, trying not to be too embarrassed. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘My advice is to check your stools until the coin makes an appearance.’

  ‘Yuck, that’s nasty!’

  David let out a snort. She could see he was trying not to laugh.

  The doctor sent her a professional smile. ‘I’d like to make sure it’s not in your oesophagus before you leave, but under the circumstances, I don’t want you to have an x-ray.’