Coming Home For Christmas

by Julia Williams

  ‘Just look at this,’ said Pippa, as Cat scooped Lou Lou up in her arms, before she started to pull the cat’s tail too vigorously.

  ‘That looks amazing,’ said Cat, poring over the pictures of steam baths, hot stone massages and Ayurvedic treatments, and an invitational offer to become favoured clients for the day. ‘I feel a girlie day out coming on. Hang on …’ she paused and looked at the leaflet more closely, ‘LK Holdings – isn’t that the company who are behind the new development?’

  ‘Is it?’ said Pippa. ‘Do you know, I hadn’t even noticed. How shallow am I? In that case we should definitely go and check it out. Know your enemy and all that.’

  ‘That sounds like a great idea,’ said Cat. ‘I’ve always fancied myself as a spy. Particularly if there’s a Jacuzzi thrown in.’

  Pippa was feeling much better about everything. With the divorce papers signed, and the decree nisi granted she felt like a big burden had been lifted from her shoulders. They still had to wait for the decree absolute, but the deed was done. Spring was round the corner, and it was time to get on with the rest of her life. If she did still sometimes feel sad at what she’d lost, she had to park those feelings and hide them away. They weren’t doing her any good, best bury them deep.

  Since the trip to the hotel, she and Richard had grown much closer. He had taken to staying over a couple of times a week, although he always checked if it was ok with Lucy first. Every other weekend, when Dan had the kids, they also tried to have a date night. Either Pippa would go to Richard’s and he would cook for her, or they’d take a trip into Hope Christmas and go out to dinner at Whispers.

  If when he was over, Richard sensed Lucy was being uncooperative, he would back off and go home. Pippa appreciated his tact and sensitivity. While it wasn’t winning Lucy round quickly, the boys seemed to understand the efforts Richard was making, and appreciated the fact that he didn’t try too hard to be their friend. He was also incredibly understanding about the slightly strange situation she found herself in with Dan, regarding the practical aspects of running the farm, and would make himself scarce if Dan came in to discuss something of importance.

  ‘I don’t want to get in your way,’ he’d say, and take himself off into the lounge to watch tv with the kids, or go upstairs with his laptop and do some work.

  Pippa felt tremendously grateful to him for making it so easy, particularly as she and Dan seemed to be getting on much better now all that was between them was organising the farm. All the tension that had built up over the last couple of years seemed to be slowly dissipating, and she felt much more relaxed in Dan’s presence than she had done for a long time.

  The only potential blot on the landscape was that Pippa was getting worried about what was going to happen to the farm. Now the divorce was nearly official, Pippa felt she should take on more of the practical jobs on the farm than she’d done in the past, and not expect Dan to do everything. Since money was tight, they couldn’t afford too much labour. And while Gabriel was often on hand to help out, she knew they couldn’t always rely on him. He had enough to do on his own farm.

  The boys were a great help too, often getting up early in the morning to help milk the cows before school if she or Dan couldn’t do it. But next year Nathan would have GCSEs, and Pippa wanted him to concentrate on his schoolwork. More likely than not he was going to become a farmer – he was looking into doing a BTech in Farm Management later on – it was in his blood, and he loved it, but Pippa was determined he would have proper choices to make, not end up in farming by default. Though if that was what he really wanted to do, she’d be happy for him to take over the farm in the future, if they survived that long.

  Despite the divorce, Pippa and Dan still hadn’t discussed the business properly yet. She hadn’t asked him for maintenance, because the farm gave them everything they needed, and he could barely sustain himself alone. At some point they would have to deal with the practicalities, but it was giving Pippa a headache just thinking about it. It was easier to keep things the way they were.

  The one difficulty she was having with Richard was that he couldn’t understand why she was ‘letting things slide’, as he put it. Once or twice he’d brought the subject up, saying ‘Come on, Pippa, you’ve got to face up to this sometime,’ but she’d resisted the conversation. Because the practical thing, the sensible thing was to sell the farm and split their assets. And with LK Holdings hovering about, they could probably get a really good offer on the farm, as Richard had tried to hint to her on a number of occasions.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she’d tried to explain to him, ‘my heart is here and always will be.’

  She’d grown up on the farm, in this house, with Gabriel next door. They’d both taken on the heritage of their forefathers; Pippa didn’t want to be the one who threw in the towel.

  Richard couldn’t begin to understand. He was a townie through and through. And although he liked living in the country, he just couldn’t see that farming was in her blood. And somehow she had to save her heritage. Whatever it cost.

  ‘So I was thinking, now the twins are doing a couple of long days at nursery, I might sign up for some agency teaching,’ said Marianne over a rare supper alone with Gabriel. Eve had had a bad day, and was upstairs ‘resting’. The twins had already had their tea, given Dolly her bedtime bottle of milk, and were sitting in pyjamas watching Peppa Pig, waiting for Gabriel to chase them up to bed – a nightly ritual when he came in early enough.

  ‘Oh?’ said Gabriel, ‘what’s brought this on? I thought you didn’t want to go back to teaching just yet.’

  ‘I didn’t think I did,’ admitted Marianne, ‘but I do miss it, and I’m getting a bit frustrated at home, particularly on the days when the twins are out all day.’

  She didn’t like to say that living on top of Eve, as she had been for over a month now, was getting to them both. They were such different people. Marianne liked to get up and get things done, whereas Eve liked to take her time and sit around drinking tea and chewing the fat. She was always offering to help, but in reality she’d lose interest pretty quickly, stopping to watch something on TV, or picking up a magazine. It drove Marianne nuts, but what could she do? They were living in the same house, and despite Joan having returned from her cruise, there had been no mention of Eve going to stay there, so there was nothing Marianne could do. She had to get on with Eve.

  ‘You could always come out and help me,’ said Gabriel.

  ‘Yes, but it wouldn’t bring in any extra cash,’ she argued.

  ‘We’ll survive,’ said Gabriel.

  ‘The money would come in handy, you know it would,’ said Marianne.

  ‘True,’ agreed Gabriel, not saying what she knew he was thinking – having an extra person in the house who was contributing nothing to the household was an added expense. Perhaps as a result of having lived with Darren, her last partner, who was a rich businessman, Eve seemed to have no idea of basic economies, leaving lights on, turning up heating, running baths she forgot about and eating vast amounts for someone who was annoyingly skinny. She’d offer to get the shopping, but always came back with expensive items they didn’t need, and never brought back any change from the money Marianne gave her.

  Marianne dearly wanted to ask how much longer Eve was staying, but Gabriel seemed to have developed a blind spot as far as his ex-wife was concerned, saying ‘I can’t upset her, Marianne, you know that. I’m sure she’ll move on when she’s ready.’

  So Marianne didn’t feel she could push it. She knew Gabriel still felt absurdly responsible for Eve, ‘I always felt I could have done more to help her,’ he’d confided in Marianne more than once – which was daft from where Marianne was sitting – and this was his chance to put things right.

  Marianne couldn’t fault Gabe’s motivation. She knew he was being kind to Eve, but he was putting his head in the sand about it so the subject was becoming very difficult for Marianne to broach. She couldn’t tell him that one of the reasons she w
as desperate to get out of the house was that she no longer felt it was her own.

  Whenever she came in, Eve seemed to have changed some knick knacks around, and put expensive vases and glassware all over the place. Funny how she couldn’t afford rent, but she could afford that – despite Marianne saying with the twins around it was dangerous (and she’d been proved right – at least two glasses had gone for a burton for which Marianne had felt obliged to pay). Nor could Eve be persuaded that lighting candles in the house was a bad idea with small children, a dog, and a pet lamb (who though big enough to go back to the fold, still hadn’t quite made it out of the kitchen, the twins were too enamoured of her).

  She wanted to tell Gabriel all this but didn’t know how. It seemed so petty. Besides, Eve was always there, and tonight was a very rare occasion when she wasn’t. Which gave Marianne the confidence to venture—

  ‘You don’t think we could – perhaps—’

  ‘Perhaps what?’

  ‘Ask Eve for some rent,’ she said, ‘then maybe I wouldn’t have to work.’

  ‘Oh Lord. I’ve been so selfish – of course I should be paying you rent. Why didn’t you say?’ To Marianne’s horror, Eve had chosen that moment to come downstairs and heard every word. ‘Here let me go to the bank right now and draw some money out.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Gabe. ‘We asked you to stay here, remember? We wouldn’t dream of asking you for any money. It’s fine, isn’t it, Marianne?’

  He looked at her with such pleading, Marianne didn’t know what else to do.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Marianne between gritted teeth. But she was furious. How could Gabriel do this to her? When did her feelings get taken into account?

  ‘Oh you’re so kind, the pair of you,’ said Eve, her eyes welling up (that was another thing about Eve, she was so good at producing tears), ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll be out of your hair soon, I promise.’

  Hurrah, thought Marianne silently, but Gabe just leant forward and said, ‘You can stay as long as you need, Eve, you know that. We’ll manage won’t we, Marianne?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Marianne with a sinking heart. ‘It’s our pleasure.’

  At this rate, Eve would be there forever.

  ‘And, Marianne,’ added Gabe casually, ‘I think you’re right. It would really help if you got a job. Do you good to get out of the house.’

  ‘Great,’ said Marianne, with false cheer, and looked over to see Eve smiling at her sweetly. She’d got what she wanted, so why did she feel she’d been outmanoeuvred?

  Chapter Eight

  ‘So do you think it’s time we talked about the farm?’

  Pippa nearly dropped the pot of tea she was pouring for Dan. She’d thought the farm was a subject they’d agreed on for the time being, but maybe not.

  Once a day, usually mid morning, Dan would silently appear for a cup of tea and slice of cake. Sometimes it felt like a parody of her former life. But Dan was so formal with her now; although she was glad they could at least be civilized about things. And the children liked it – Lucy in particular – when he popped back at teatime. The special bond they shared hadn’t been lost, despite what had happened. If anything, it had grown stronger. Lucy seemed to empathically know when her dad was feeling low; he on the other hand could josh her out of her strops in a way that Pippa never could. The last time Dan had been round, Lucy had gone into a complete meltdown because Pippa had made something she didn’t like for tea. It was only Dan playing aeroplanes with her, as if she was two, and threatening to eat it for her, that had got her out of it. Perhaps the physical trauma Dan had been through gave him a greater insight into their daughter’s condition. Whatever the reason, Pippa saw it and was glad.

  Pippa carefully wiped up the tea she’d spilt.

  ‘Um, what’s brought this on?’ she said. ‘I thought we’d agreed we weren’t going to do anything about the farm at the moment.’ They were still waiting for the divorce to be finalised, but Dan had been adamant nothing was going to change in the short term.

  ‘We had,’ said Dan, ‘but I was in the field that backs onto Blackstock Farm, this morning, and there were people up there again. Lots more people. They had maps, and were taking photographs. They’ve already applied for planning permission, seems to me that LK Holdings are really serious about the site. Which started me thinking …’

  ‘Don’t want to do that,’ joked Pippa, feeling a little anxious about what might be coming next, ‘never know what kind of trouble thinking can get you into.’

  ‘I’m being serious,’ said Dan. ‘I’m just wondering if we had a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to that guy knocking on the door and making us an offer. Maybe we should sell up after all. Then you and Richard could find somewhere together, and I’d be free to start up again elsewhere, or who knows, do something different.’

  ‘But the farm …’ said Pippa.

  ‘I know,’ said Dan.

  And that was the point, he did know. The farm had been their commitment to the future. A future that was no longer possible. She knew what it was costing him to ask her this.

  His eyes held her and looked so sad she was tempted to hug him, but she knew from past experience that he would flinch and move away, and she’d long ago inured herself against that. It was still too painful.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘Richard and I – well I don’t even know what Richard and I have. It’s too soon. We’re certainly not planning to live together at the moment.’

  ‘But you might in the future,’ said Dan. ‘And I really don’t want to stand in your way, when the time comes. I’m holding you back, Pippa. You know I am.’

  ‘Oh Dan,’ Pippa’s eyes filled with tears, ‘you aren’t. You don’t. I just thought …’

  ‘That things would be different?’ said Dan gently. ‘But they’re not, and they can’t be. We’re nearly divorced now, Pippa. Hell, you’ve got a new partner, and yet we’re still carrying on as if nothing has changed. We can’t do that forever.’

  ‘What about the boys?’ said Pippa. ‘You know how keen Nathan is to go to agricultural college. He’s born to be a farmer. Can’t we hold on at least until he’s old enough to get more involved?’

  ‘Pippa, I don’t think we have that luxury,’ said Dan. ‘I know how hard you work to keep control of the finances, but I’m not stupid. I can see the bills piling up. I just think this would be a solution to our problems.’

  Pippa looked out of the kitchen window, at the hills at the end of their lane, where Gabriel’s sheep were grazing happily, as those belonging to her family had for over a hundred years. She felt her stomach contract with a feeling of anxiety that was becoming all too familiar of late. Her heart, her soul was here. She couldn’t, wouldn’t give it up without a fight.

  ‘What if I find another way?’ said Pippa. ‘If I could get the finances together and buy you out? Would you agree to that?’

  ‘But Pippa—’

  ‘But Pippa, nothing,’ she said, ‘would you, or wouldn’t you? I don’t think you really want to lose the farm for Nathan either, do you?’

  She was bargaining on him hating the thought of it.

  ‘No,’ admitted Dan, ‘I really don’t. I just can’t see another way out.’

  ‘Well then,’ said Pippa, a sense of determination growing in her, fortified by Dan’s acquiescence, ‘I shall have to see what I can do.’

  Marianne went downstairs at 6am to put the kettle on. Gabe was already up and about, ready to go and see to the ewes and their newborn lambs. Marianne had given Dolly, still resident in the kitchen, a bottle of milk; she was rapidly outgrowing her basket. Really they should send her out with the other lambs now, but the twins were so attached to her and Marianne who always felt a total townie when it came to sending the lambs to market felt she couldn’t quite stomach sending Dolly out in the fields, knowing she was going to the slaughterhouse later in the season.

  Gabe, with the typical pragmatism of a farmer had
said, ‘At least we’ve given her a good life.’ But he could no more resist the wide-eyed wonder of the twins (who hadn’t yet made the connection between their beloved pet and the roast lamb they enjoyed so much for Sunday dinner) than she could. Very soon they were going to have a fully grown sheep careering round their kitchen, thanks to their soft-heartedness. Only Eve, who’d never quite recovered from the shock of their meeting, didn’t like Dolly. In fact Eve was so completely anti-animal, it seemed miraculous to Marianne that she had ever entertained the life of a farmer’s wife. She was so eminently unsuited to it.

  Marianne mechanically made the children sandwiches. She had Gabe’s mum, Jean, on call to do the nursery run if she got a phone call from the agency saying she had work. Twice last week, she had been asked to step in and had had to drive halfway round the county. Eve had offered to help out, but not only did Marianne doubt she’d get up in time, she also worried that Eve mightn’t remember to go (from what Gabriel had told her, she very often forgot to pick Steven up when he was little), so she asked Gabriel to pick them up instead.

  Gabriel hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic about it, ‘You know I can’t be sure of getting there,’ he’d pointed out reasonably, but she felt frustrated. When she’d first met him all those years ago, he’d often picked Steven up from school, though Pippa had also helped out a lot. Now it was as though Marianne was being taken for granted, always there, and if she wanted to work, it was her job to sort out childcare. If she ever got a job again permanently, she’d have to do something about that.

  ‘When are they likely to phone?’ Gabe came out of the kitchen, taking a cup of tea with alacrity, but eating nothing. He usually liked to come back around nine for his breakfast.

  ‘It was about seven last week,’ said Marianne.

  She didn’t like to say she wasn’t really sure yet about the supply teaching. It seemed bitty and inconsistent and she hated not teaching the same children every day, but they were in the middle of the school year, and jobs were hard to come by. Particularly part time ones, which is what she really wanted. It was unfair to keep relying on Gabe’s mum on the off chance that she was going to get a job for the day. She’d have to sort something out, but then paying for a childminder when she might not get any work seemed like a waste of money.