Coming Home For Christmas

by Julia Williams

  ‘None of us want to leave,’ typed Lucy, who’d been sitting glowering in the corner.

  Although Lucy had been trying more of late, she still wasn’t happy having Richard around. She made her feelings so abundantly clear – wheeling her chair sulkily out of the room as soon as he walked into it, being sullen when Richard was around – it would have been funny in any other circumstances.

  Pippa desperately wanted Lucy to approve of Richard, but she wasn’t being won over, despite his best efforts. And although he had experience with his own daughter who also had cerebral palsy, she could tell it was hard for him, especially when Lucy had typed once in his presence, ‘He’s not my dad, he doesn’t tell me what to do.’ Pippa saw the hurt in his eyes and felt caught between a rock and a hard place. Whatever she did, she risked upsetting one or other of them.

  ‘With all due respect, Lucy, it’s not your decision,’ said Richard.

  ‘Neither is it yours!’ She typed back furiously, giving him a look of malevolence, Pippa hadn’t known she was capable of. She swung her wheelchair away from the table and stormed out of the room – well as far as she could storm in a wheelchair. In the process, she caught one of the wheels on Richard’s leg.

  ‘Lucy!’ Pippa said in dismay.

  ‘She did that on purpose,’ said Richard, nursing his leg.

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t,’ said Pippa, not sure in the slightest. ‘We probably shouldn’t have been discussing it in front of her. This is the only home she’s known, she’s bound to be unsettled by talk of selling up.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be,’ said Richard. ‘You could all move in with me.’

  ‘You are joking?’ said Pippa, thinking hell, no, this is far too soon. ‘It’s a lovely idea, but I’m sorry, I’m not ready for that yet.’

  ‘It was just a thought,’ said Richard, backtracking, ‘it would mean you could sell to Dan, and you wouldn’t have to worry about this stuff.’

  ‘But I want to worry about this stuff,’ said Pippa, wishing he would understand. He didn’t get her at all, if he thought it would be that easy for her.

  ‘At least think about it?’

  Pippa sighed and laced her fingers through his. It would be such an easy way out of her problems, and Dan would get to keep the farm. She was half tempted, but was that what she really wanted?

  ‘Ok,’ she found herself agreeing, more to keep the peace than for any other reason. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  But as she stared out as the sun set over the hills, and she listened to the crows cawing into the summer’s night, she wondered why on earth she had.

  Marianne had had a long, hot, hard day teaching a reception class, who had been lovely, but were exhausting. It was so difficult to get them to sit still on the carpet and listen to even the simplest of instructions. Another school to try and avoid. No more reception classes. There had been a reason why she trained to teach Year 4 and above. To add to the general stress, her mum had rung at 6am to say her dad’s breathing was bad and asking what she should do.

  ‘Call an ambulance,’ Marianne suggested, feeling panicky. She hated being so far away. If only she lived nearer.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Mum said. ‘Perhaps I should wait a bit.’

  ‘Look, Mum if you’re that worried, I think you should at least call 999.’

  ‘All right,’ said Mum. ‘I just don’t like making a fuss.’

  ‘It’s not making a fuss,’ said Marianne. ‘If Dad’s ill, he’s ill.’

  Agreeing to call back and let her know what happened, Mum rang off, then rang back ten minutes later to say Dad had settled again and was breathing more easily.

  When Marianne managed to check in later in the middle of a day mainly administering crowd control to her enthusiastic class of four and five year olds, Mum had spoken to the GP who told her to ring 999 if Dad got any worse.

  ‘But it’s all right, really, Marianne,’ she said, when Marianne suggested coming down, ‘I was just being silly. He’s sleeping now. I’m sure he’ll be fine.’

  Unable to ignore the nagging feeling of anxiety, Marianne drove home at the end of the day, stressed and worried, to find the house in total chaos. Jean had picked the twins up from nursery, but Eve had sent her home, saying she could cope. Her idea of coping was to fill the children full of chocolate, so they were sky high when Marianne walked in. The lounge was a tip, and the TV on so loud it gave Marianne an instant headache, and Dolly was baaing loudly in the kitchen as no one had fed her.

  Marianne’s attempts to get the children to eat tea – chicken nuggets and chips seeming to be all that Eve could rustle up – were met with blank refusals and tears, as was her suggestion that (tea uneaten) they went to bed.

  ‘No!’ declared Harry defiantly.

  ‘No!’ said Daisy, planting herself heavily next to him.

  ‘Oh let them play a little longer,’ said Eve. ‘It’s so difficult for them to sleep on these light summer evenings.’

  ‘Don’t want to go to bed!’ the twins yelled.

  ‘Well you have to,’ yelled Marianne back, cursing Eve to the high heavens, hating herself for shouting and dragging her recalcitrant offspring up the stairs, ignoring Eve’s comments of, ‘Well it never did Stevie any harm,’ having apparently forgotten that she’d spent much of Steven’s childhood absent.

  The twins were eventually got into pyjamas and into bed, but were keeping up a steady wail of ‘We don’t want to go to bed!’ when Gabriel walked in.

  ‘Do you really think Eve’s not well enough to work still?’ said Marianne in exasperation. ‘She’s well enough to cause complete chaos here.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her in the morning,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’m sure we can sort something out.’

  ‘Well you’d better do it soon,’ snapped Marianne, ‘because I have had enough.’

  ‘Ok, ok,’ said Gabriel. ‘Look I am really sorry. I didn’t know that you were feeling quite like this. I’ll deal with it, I promise.’ But she knew him of old. Gabe couldn’t help worrying about Eve, and if she got upset about the thought of going back to work, he’d give in. Gabriel was nothing if not empathetic, she just wished his empathy came her way a bit more.

  The twins were just calming down a bit when the phone rang, and Marianne nearly shot out of her skin. The feelings of dread from earlier on, returned.

  ‘Yes, I see,’ Gabriel was saying, ‘I’ll just get her. It’s your mum,’ he said with a peculiar look on his face. Without asking she knew the news was very bad.

  ‘Oh Marianne,’ her mum sobbed down the phone. ‘I’m at the hospital. I don’t know what to do. It’s your dad. Marianne. I’m so sorry, love, but he’s dead.’

  My Broken Brain

  Day Eighty Five I think … 5am. Again

  I’ve been sitting thinking all night. Thoughts whirling through my head. I want to do the right thing, the best thing for all of us.

  It seems the development plans are even worse than we thought. I don’t know how we could survive if a complex that size was on our doorstep. We’re barely managing as we are. Pippa’s got some mad scheme for trying to stop it, but even Pippa, god bless her mad enthusiasm, is going to have trouble holding back this juggernaut. Gabriel tells me we might have some negotiating clout, as they are very keen to buy bits of our land. Pippa won’t want to hear that of course.

  But I look at the boys and worry for their future. And for Lucy’s. What will happen to her, when we’re not around? I think it’s time we faced facts and cut loose.

  Pippa’s going to kill me, but I’m going to tell her we should sell.

  June

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘So how can I help with this campaign?’ Miss Woods was sitting ramrod straight on her mobility scooter, ready to take on the world. She was a local legend of indeterminate age – Pippa would have hazarded anywhere between 80 and 100 – whose indomitable spirit made her a valuable ally. ‘I know that first meeting wasn’t well attended, but since the meet and greets L
K Holdings have been running, there’s been a definite shift in opinion. I think more people are waking up on what this hotel complex might do to the area and are feeling alarmed about it. You should tap into that energy.’

  ‘There are still a lot of people in favour, though,’ said Pippa. ‘The Yummy Mummies from the café can’t wait to have somewhere to go to get their fake tans done.’

  Pippa had just come from the café, where a crowd of Yummy Mummies (and some not quite so yummy), led as ever by Keeley Jacobs and Angie Townley, had all been talking in screeching, excited tones about the new development. There seemed to be a general consensus that having a spa and luxury leisure centre on their doorstep was a good thing. And depressingly no one seemed to care about the effect on the local environment. Even Jenny Ingles, from the local estate agents, who’d been Pippa’s babysitter years ago, was enthusiastic.

  ‘I just think it will bring more people into the town,’ said Jenny, ‘and a better class of tourist.’

  Pippa quite liked the class of tourists they did have. They loved the quaint nature of the town with its teashops, quirky bookshop, antiques market and butcher’s and greengrocer’s selling fresh local produce. They also appreciated the beauty of the hills they invariably walked in. Pippa doubted any visitors to the new hotel would even get out of the complex to notice their surroundings.

  ‘But there are still plenty of people who disagree,’ said Miss Woods stoutly. ‘Batty Jack is already formulating ideas as to how we can sabotage their plans: leaving gates open for sheep to wander into the land was one idea, or releasing his turkeys into the yard when the surveyors are there.’

  Pippa laughed. Batty Jack, the local turkey farmer who had gained his moniker from the bats living in one of his barns, was another local celebrity. He could always be guaranteed to bring his own unique methods to any situation. And he’d certainly get them noticed.

  ‘So, don’t give up just yet, young Pippa,’ Miss Woods declared staunchly, waving her walking stick alarmingly in Pippa’s face. ‘What’s your plan of action?’

  ‘We have had one idea,’ said Pippa. ‘Felix Macintyre has a big thing about birds of prey. Merlins are his thing apparently. Ralph Nicholas seemed to think there might be some nesting in the woods. If that’s true, we could try and use it as a means to persuade Felix that Hope Christmas is the wrong place for this development.’

  ‘Ah yes, Cat Tinsall already approached me about this,’ Miss Woods boomed. ‘If he wants merlins, we’ll give them to him. Or if not, something similar. I know there are kestrels about, and they often get confused with merlins. We don’t have to get close enough for him to check, especially if there are a lot of us making noise, they won’t stay anywhere too long.’

  ‘That sounds a bit like cheating,’ said Pippa, grinning. She loved Miss Woods’ can-do approach to life.

  ‘All’s fair in love and war,’ said Miss Woods. ‘Besides, I hear that young scoundrel Luke Nicholas is involved. Since when has he ever played fair?’

  ‘Very true,’ said Pippa, laughing. ‘So all I need to do is organise a sighting, and bob’s your uncle.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ said Miss Woods.

  ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  ‘Easy? Easy? If things had been easy, we’d never have won the war,’ said Miss Woods.

  Pippa laughed again. ‘Thanks, Miss Woods, you’ve cheered me up. I shall go home straight away and organise some leaflets which we can distribute in the town so people can start to see what we’re up against.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Miss Woods, and set off on her mobility scooter, wobbling down the road in her usual erratic fashion.

  Pippa walked home where she found Richard, ensconced in the kitchen working on his laptop. She had a perfectly good office he could use, and yet here he was. Pippa tried not to feel irritated. Richard meant well, and she had told him to feel at home. She just hadn’t meant him to take it so literally. The kitchen was her domain. Dan had always understood that.

  Be fair, she scolded herself. Richard’s not Dan. You can’t expect him to know you inside out yet. That was the trouble with new relationships, she was finding, all the handy shorthanded understandings you had in a long term relationship were missing. Which meant it felt much more of a minefield.

  Plastering a smile on her face, she said cheerfully, ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Richard. ‘How’s your morning been?’

  ‘Just been planning some skulduggery with Miss Woods,’ said Pippa.

  ‘Miss who?’

  ‘Miss Woods. You must have seen her. Old bird who bombs around town on her mobility scooter.’

  ‘Oh her,’ said Richard, as if he were barely interested. ‘So what skulduggery are you planning?’

  Feeling a little foolish, Pippa told him about the bird spotting idea. It sounded lame. It was lame.

  ‘It’ll never work,’ said Richard, not holding back. ‘Even if Felix wotsit likes birds, he’s more interested in business. LK Holdings won’t be put off that easily. They can smell the money. You must realise that.’

  ‘I do,’ said Pippa, a bit cross with his lack of support ‘but I want to show them there might be another way. A better way. And at least we can delay them a bit if they think they have to take rare birds into consideration.’

  ‘Oh wake up and smell the coffee, Pippa,’ said Richard, startling her with his outburst. ‘No one is going to stop a development like that for the sake of a few birds. I really think you should sell up.’

  ‘Well I don’t!’ Pippa snapped. She was furious. How dare he lecture her? ‘And it’s my farm, not yours.’

  ‘But our future,’ said Richard.

  Pippa didn’t answer. What was there to say? She hadn’t liked to think too far ahead, but it was only reasonable of him to. She’d been hoping he wasn’t serious about her moving in with him, but she was clearly wrong. He’d been giving it far more thought than she had.

  ‘Let’s not have this discussion now,’ said Pippa. ‘Nothing’s happening immediately. And I don’t want to have a row.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Richard, and he kissed her on the cheek. She could feel he wanted her to say something. But she couldn’t. Our future, he’d said. Was that what she really wanted?

  You ok? Am around for coffee when you’re back if needed. Cat xxx

  Marianne read the text, and her spirits lifted a little. Cat had already spoken to her on the phone. She’d been really understanding, having lost her mum not too long ago. Everyone had been kind, and they’d had so many offers of help with the farm so Gabriel could come to London with her, it had been overwhelming.

  ‘Of course, I’m not letting you go alone,’ had been his first words when she came off the phone to Mum. She’d wanted to get straight in the car, but Matt had said firmly, ‘You’ve got stuff to sort out your end, Marianne. I can hold the fort here. Auntie Vi’s staying too. You come when you’re ready.’

  So they had taken a day to organise themselves, and now finally they were powering down the M40.

  It was a beautiful sunny day. Completely at odds with her mood. Marianne felt she had fallen down a deep dark hole, one she couldn’t climb out of. The sun was shining, but it felt like it didn’t touch her. Dad had gone. Even after the last few months, when she’d started to envisage it happening, it didn’t seem possible. How could Dad just not be there anymore? However kind and understanding people were, nothing could take away her pain and loss.

  ‘You ok?’ said Gabe, looking across at her anxiously. He squeezed her hand.

  ‘No,’ said Marianne, squeezing back a tear. ‘But I’ll survive.’ She wondered if she could. How long did grief last? How did anyone ever get over something like this? Marianne felt as if her life had been ripped in half. She couldn’t shake the image of Dad in his hospital bed, when he was first ill. She tried to conjure up other, earlier images, but failed dismally. Was she only going to remember him from these last few grim months, a small frail creature, not like
the dad she had loved her whole life? She couldn’t even recall their last conversation properly. Something banal, about the children. If she’d known—

  If she’d known, what more could she have said? Whenever it happened, it was always going to be too soon. She was always going to wish for another day, another chance to hug him and tell him she loved him. Always.

  ‘I need a wee!’ Daisy announced suddenly.

  ‘I do too,’ added Harry.

  ‘Bugger,’ said Gabriel, ‘we’ve just passed a service station, I don’t know when the next one is.’

  ‘But I need to go now,’ wailed Daisy.

  ‘Why didn’t you say so before, darling?’ said Marianne.

  ‘Because I didn’t need one then,’ said Daisy, with infuriating three-year-old logic.

  For the first time since she’d heard the news about Dad, Marianne managed a smile.

  ‘That would have made Dad laugh so much,’ she said to Gabriel. ‘He always said Matt and I needed the loo at the most inconvenient times when we were little.’

  She laughed at the memory, and then turned back to the twins, ‘You’ll just have to hold for a bit. Not long now.’

  Luckily a sign announced the next service station as less than thirty miles away. The twins kept up a steady stream of moaning till they got there, but much to Marianne’s relief they arrived without mishap.

  As she got out of the car and took them into the service station, Marianne was hit by another memory of holding her dad’s hand on a similar occasion. She must have been four or five, and Dad had taken her on his own to see her grandparents. It had been so exciting that it was just the two of them. They’d stopped at a service station for chips and hot chocolate, and he’d teased her about getting a chocolate moustache. Suddenly the tears that wouldn’t come before spilt over. Her dad. Her lovely dad was gone. And for the first time since Marianne had heard the news, she really understood what it meant. Dad had gone and she was never going to see him again.