“Isn’t baby Jesus supposed to be in the manger?” said Rosencrantz, as I helped him out of his duffle coat.
“And what are the Aristocats doing beside the manger?” I asked.
“My house has been hijacked by Disney,” grimaced Chris. We followed him through to the living room. There was a crackling fire and, beside it, a giant Christmas tree. Disney characters adorned every bauble, and Tinkerbell was on top of the tree waving her magic wand. There were little ornaments of Mickey and Minnie Mouse all along the mantelpiece. On top of the TV was a huge snow globe, and inside was the magic castle from Sleeping Beauty.
“Where’s Benji?” I asked, as Chris started crashing about in his drinks cabinet.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. We had a huge row and he stormed out,” he said, pulling out a huge bottle of Grey Goose vodka.
“Why? Chris, what’s going on?” I asked.
“I came back from the gym this morning to find the house like this. Benji had done it for me as a surprise,” he said, slamming down the bottle.
“I think it’s quite nice!” cried Rosencrantz, pulling at a bunch of helium balloons floating lazily by the ceiling which had The Jungle Book characters on them.
“Yes. I suppose I should think it’s nice,” said Chris looking around the room with a shudder.
“Are all these decorations his?” I asked, noticing a huge Winnie The Pooh, Tigger and Eeyore sitting on the sofa opposite all dressed in Christmas outfits. Chris pulled out two crystal cut glasses and poured us each a large measure.
“Of course they’re all his! All my lovely Conran decorations are still in the attic… Cokes, it’s everywhere. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves in the downstairs loo. A twenty-five-piece Fantasia china dining service in the kitchen. A hundred and one Dalmatians, plus Mr and Mrs Darling and Cruella De Vil on the shelves in the library!” He came over and handed me a vodka, then lowered his voice saying, “There’s even a miniature dolls house in my bedroom which plays ‘It’s a small world after all’ on a loop! What man can maintain an erection with ‘It’s a small world after all’ playing in the background! ”
I tried to suppress a laugh.
“It’s not funny, Cokes!”
“I know, I’m sorry. Didn’t you know Benji was a Disney fan?”
“No! He never mentioned it on our first date.”
“Why would he?”
“Still, look around. Is this normal? He’s… He’s…”
“A Disney fetishist?” I said.
“Yes!”
We clinked glasses and he took a big gulp of vodka.
“Surely there are worse fetishes, Chris? And you’ll sort it out. You’re both going on a cruise – you’ll only have to look at all this for a day or so. Then you’ll be off.”
“I hope so. The alternative is spending Christmas with my family. My sister’s just been dumped by a bloke mother disapproved of. I refuse to give her the satisfaction that my relationship is over too,” he said.
“Your relationship with Benji is not over,” I said, adding, “Who was your sister going out with?”
“Some investment banker. He got bored and left a message on her bleeper that it was over. She booked into The Ritz and tried to kill herself.”
“That’s awful! Is she okay?” I asked.
“She’s fine. The stupid girl jumped out of a ground-floor window. The only thing she broke was her padded hairband. No, it’s going to be okay. I’ll just have to learn to cope with Benji’s Disney fetish.”
I sat on the sofa and a cushion began to play ‘Be Our Guest’ from Beauty and The Beast.
“Oh!” I cried leaping up.
“Every cushion plays a different tune,” said Chris morosely, throwing it behind the sofa. “I’ll be counting down the hours until we’re cruising through the Caribbean islands.”
“I can’t wait to open my Tracy Island!” piped up Rosencrantz as he twiddled the baubles on the tree.
“Shit!” I mouthed to Chris.
“Oh, that reminds me. Dad’s been in touch,” said Chris in a low voice.
“Yes?” I said eagerly.
“Not good news: your island is like gold dust apparently. They’ve been changing hands on the black market for hundreds of pounds. He’s going to keep an eye out, but don’t hold your breath.”
* * *
We stayed for a couple of hours, then Benji returned and it was all a bit frosty so I said we’d head back home.
“Will I see you at Christmas, Uncle Christopher?” asked Rosencrantz.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Chris. “I’m coming to watch you in your Nativity play.”
Rosencrantz beamed. “Yay!”
“And I’m coming too,” said Benji pointedly, looking at Chris.
“It will be lovely to see you both,” I said.
“Although please don’t be disappointed,” said Rosencrantz seriously. “Mary and Joseph have no chemistry…”
Chris and Benji looked at me and we all laughed.
“What? It’s true!” insisted Rosencrantz. “I overheard Miss Mears talking to the Headmistress.”
* * *
As we walked back home in the dark, Rosencrantz asked what it meant for Mary and Joseph to have no chemistry. Before I could stop myself I said that they didn’t have a chemist’s shop near them in Bethlehem. Then we saw two very posh ladies whose little dogs had decided to have rampant sex by the pond.
“What are those doggies doing, Mummy?” asked Rosencrantz.
“They’re doing the conga,” I said.
“That’s a bit different to how we did it at my birthday party…”
“Yes, dogs, um, do it differently because they don’t usually have any music,” I said.
He seemed satisfied and we carried on past the two posh ladies who had given up trying to separate their dogs. It made me think, why do we lie to kids all the time? That was the third lie I’d told Rosencrantz today. Did it really protect him, lying? Although the Tracy Island lie was justified because I was determined to get him one for Christmas. As far as the dogs were concerned, I didn’t want to have to go into the birds and the bees, not yet. And as for Mary and Joseph, well, life was too short to worry about two little kids who can’t act.
And who’d want their child to go into the acting profession anyway?
* * *
When we got home, Ethel met us at the door. The house was in darkness. I flicked the light switch but nothing happened.
“Has there been a power cut?” I asked.
She looked terrified and grabbed me, whispering, “Yes! And iss Danny! I think ‘e’s possessed, Coco!”
She was wearing her plastic rain hood indoors and clutching her little crucifix.
“What?” I said.
“’E’s been babbling nonsense for the past hour, well, not the usual shite, real nonsense…”
Candles were dotted about, casting a dim glow, and we followed her upstairs and into the bedroom. Daniel was lying in bed. His skin had a horrible grey hue and he was soaked in sweat.
“Oola baloolaer ranticfah!” he murmured. “Wooohoo pallooo!”
“’E’s talkin’ Latin, Coco,” said Ethel. “’E must be possessed, cos ‘e failed the eleven plus. ‘E never did Latin… only woodwork.”
“He sounds delirious,” I said.
Ethel went to the end of the bed and lifted the covers.
“No! Look. A face ‘as appeared on the bed sheets! It’s Jesus!” she hissed with wonder in her eyes.
I joined her and together we peered at the spot she was indicating on the sheet. There was a black stain, an eerie, angular pleading face with long hair. Beside it Daniel’s foot was propped up on the pile of magazines, looking puce and hugely swollen.
“Cantoono baramshifah!” gurgled Daniel menacingly. “Rambabba-booba!” The candles flickered on the Blue Peter advent crown.
“Mummy, I’m a bit scared,” said Rosencrantz grabbing at my leg.
The candles flickered
again and Daniel groaned. Suddenly all the lights came back on. I peered closer at the face on the bed sheet again.
“That’s not Jesus, it’s Yoko Ono,” I said.
“Eh?” said Ethel.
“Did you move the pile of magazines?”
“Yeah. Danny was ‘avin cramp,” she said.
I gently pulled out a magazine from the bottom of the pile.
“Look. It’s the ink from the Radio Times,” I said. “It’s transferred onto the bed sheet.”
Sure enough, it was an article and a picture of Yoko Ono. Ethel seemed to blame me that her son wasn’t possessed, and got very huffy.
“Can you blame me fer worrying?”
I went to him and felt his head. He was burning up.
“He’s definitely delirious,” I said. “I think we should ring the doctor.”
* * *
The doctor came reluctantly, but when he saw Daniel and the state of his foot, he called for an ambulance. We followed to the hospital and waited for several hours in the busy waiting room. Ethel kept repeating, “I told yer it was bad. Didn’t I?”
“Okay, let’s just wait and keep calm,” I said, glad that Rosencrantz was out of earshot. He was blissfully unaware and playing on an activity centre in the corner of the waiting room.
When a doctor finally came out, he told us that Daniel had broken his ankle and had an infection.
“’E’s not gonna die?” asked Ethel.
“No. We’ve set the bone and given him a cast. He’s also on intravenous antibiotics,” said the doctor. “We’ll be keeping him in overnight for observation.”
“Thank you, Doctor, praise the Lord. ‘Is wife ‘ere, she didn’t think it was anything serious, but I… all I can say is that I probably saved ‘is life!” exclaimed Ethel.
I bit my tongue.
“Can we see him, Doctor,” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Of course, but he’s very tired,” said the doctor.
He took us through to the ward where Daniel lay looking a little better. But his leg! He had a plaster cast from his knee down to his foot! It was hung from a loop attached to the ceiling. I felt a sudden rush of love for him. There was a brief tussle between me and Ethel, but I made it to his bedside first so she had to scuttle round to the other side.
“Hello love,” I said, smoothing his dark hair down. “I thought you were being over-dramatic… I love you.”
“It’s okay, Cokes. It’s going to be an interesting Christmas, eh?” he said, smiling weakly.
“We’ll all be there for yer, Danny. Meryl an’ Tony are comin’ down, and little Rosencrantz is ‘ere,” she said, leaning in front of me and stroking his hair.
“I’ll be there too,” I said.
“Blood is thicker than water though, Danny,” said Ethel.
And no one is thicker than you, Ethel, I wanted to say, but I bit my lip.
We stayed with him for a while, competing for who had the best bedside manner. Then Daniel asked Ethel if she would take Rosencrantz home and put him to bed. Ethel was a bit put out at this, but capitulated, and after Rosencrantz gave Daniel a big hug, they left.
“Go easy on Mum. She had a fright,” said Daniel.
“I had a fright too,” I said. “You know, I’ve tried until I’m blue in the face with your mother…”
“She’s old, Coco.”
“She’s not really that old, Daniel.”
“Yeah, but she’s lonely. Dad’s been dead a long time. Meryl lives up in Milton Keynes. I think she feels I’m all she’s got.”
“Well, just remember you’ve got me and Rosencrantz too. Everything seems to be getting out of control. The most important thing is our health and our happiness. Look, I know this is difficult, but can we talk about your mum…”
There was a soft sound of snoring, and Daniel was asleep.
“Every time I try to talk to you about Ethel, you fall asleep,” I said.
I stayed with him for a little longer, then I kissed the top of his sleeping head and left.
* * *
When I came out of the hospital, a Salvation Army band was huddled under the awning playing ‘Silent Night’. The sound of the brass instruments was so rich and warm, compared to the cold evening. I lit up a cigarette and stopped and listened for a while. It was the song Dad always put on the record player as we decorated the tree. I was overcome with sadness, and anger. Sadness that my parents weren’t here to see Rosencrantz grow up, and anger that they’d left me.
* * *
When I came back the house was quiet. I went upstairs, and Ethel was coming out of Rosencrantz’s bedroom. She was holding a copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar in one hand and an ashtray with three cigarette butts in the other.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I just read Rosencrantz a story; ‘e was out like a light,” said Ethel.
“No, what are you doing with that ashtray? Were you smoking in his bedroom?”
“No, I weren’t smoking in ‘is bedroom!” she hissed.
I followed her down the stairs.
“Then why are you carrying the ashtray?”
“Iss my ashtray! I was tidying up. Something you’d know all about if you was even a little ‘ouse proud! When did you last push the carpet sweeper round?”
“No! You do NOT get to speak to me like that in my house!” I hissed back.
“Oh gawd Coco, take it out on me!”
“Take it out on you? That’s my son!”
“An’ my grandson! An’ I would NEVER smoke in ‘is room!” she said.
“Oh really? I know for a fact you smoked like a chimney when Daniel and Meryl were babies. Daniel told me you used to balance an ashtray on his head when you breastfed him.”
“You watch yer mouth, Coco! We didn’t know ‘ow bad smoking was back then!”
“In all his baby pictures the top of his head is completely flat!”
“That was the forceps!” she snarled. We glared at each other, then she went on, “If I’m such a bad mother, why was I the only one with Danny? I knew ‘e was in a bad way! I knew it were more than a sprain. You were off gallivanting with that Chris!”
“You also thought he was possessed by the devil! Or Yoko Ono. You’re obviously too bloody thick to tell the difference!”
We had reached the front door now. Ethel grabbed her coat off the peg and dragged the door open.
“Where are you going? It’s eleven o’clock at night?” I said.
“Well, I’m not stayin’ ere! To think of all I’ve done for you!”
“What have you done for me? You’re always here, criticizing and making snide comments!”
“I’m good enough whenever you want a babysitter though, ain’t I? You know I’ve got a life too!”
She stomped off to the gate.
“Ethel, please, it’s late… Stay and let’s talk, sensibly.”
“I know when I’m not welcome! You think I’m muck, don’t yer?”
“I do not think that!” I shouted.
A taxi was rounding the corner; she flagged it down and got in. I watched it drive away into the cold night. I came back in and closed the door.
I went upstairs to Rosencrantz’s room. His small form shifted under the blanket. There was a faint smell of cigarettes, but I couldn’t tell if it was coming off me. I opened his window a little and let some air in. The moon was high in the sky and frost glittered on the rooftops stretching out across London. I put my head against the window frame and drank in the silence. Very softly the opening strains of ‘Silent Night’ floated on the breeze from next door. When it got to “All is calm, all is bright”, there was the sound of a needle being yanked off a record. Then I heard Mrs Cohen shout, “Stop playing that rubbish and help me find the candles for the Menorah!”
A row started up so I closed the window. I went to Rosencrantz’s bedside and looked at him sleeping peacefully, his beautiful little face lit up by the moonlight.
“Do you know how much you
are loved?” I said softly. “I would die for you. So would your Dad, and, I hate to say it, your Nan too… I wish that meant something to you right now. But you’re lucky to be young enough not to know heartbreak, or loss, or pain. I’m doing everything I can to get you Tracy Island. I just hope that it doesn’t break your little heart if I can’t.”
I kissed Rosencrantz and came downstairs. Apart from Ethel’s Blue Peter advent crown, you wouldn’t know it was Christmas in the house. I came into the kitchen and made myself a cup of cocoa. I slumped into a chair and pulled out a pad and a pencil to see what needed to be done before Christmas:
Find Tracy Island urgently!!!!
As an absolute last resort, find Blue Peter plans to make Tracy Island.
Make Rosencrantz’s Nativity play outfit, wash bed sheet and tea towel, also hunt down gold curtain tie-back which will make a good belt. (Is the school supplying the wise men’s gifts? If not who sells Frankincense? Debenhams?)
Buy a nice real Christmas tree of aesthetically pleasing proportions and decorate. Decorate house.
Buy all Christmas food/booze and other presents.
Check fold-up Z beds for when the in-laws come to stay, and throw away faulty one. If Daniel’s sister Meryl gets trapped in folding contraption like last year, I will never hear the end of it.
Visit local library and look for self-help books about coping with awful mother-in-laws. Also hide the Christmas Radio Times before Ethel gets to it with her highlighter pen.
Buy blank videotapes, which can be used as a bargaining tool if we have a clash of Christmas TV programmes. Work out how to use video recorder.
Buy crackers.
Try not to go crackers.
Replacement bulbs for fairy lights.
Buy Pic N Mix from Woolworths for carol singers.
Find nice Christmas music cassette.
Present for Rosencrantz’s teacher?
Who is Rosencrantz’s teacher? Ugh. Am a terrible mother.
Then the pencil broke. I put my head on the table and burst into tears.
Monday 21st December
Coco Pinchard's Must-Have Toy Story Page 6
