A Merry Little Christmas
Page 22
Mel sat, twisting the duvet she was holding on to for grim death.
‘Well, yes, that’s why I didn’t realise,’ she said. ‘I did a test and it was negative, and then I kept having sort of periods, so I thought …’
Her voice trailed off miserably, but Cat was so furious, she was beyond caring.
Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. At sixteen. All the signs were there and she’d missed it. What kind of mother was she? Anger at herself impelled Cat to bombard Mel with questions. ‘Who’s the father? When’s it due? Have you seen a doctor?’ and eventually, ‘Mel, after everything I’ve taught you, how could you be so bloody stupid!’
Cat’s emotions were a jumbled-up mess. She wanted badly to give Mel a hug and say it would be all right, but she was so angry she couldn’t bring herself to. All she could see was Mel’s future going down the drain. It was so unnecessary and stupid, she could have wept.
‘I knew you wouldn’t understand!’ flared Mel. ‘You never do. You never listen. You’re not interested in me. Why should you care if I get pregnant?’
‘Of course I care!’ said Cat. ‘But you’re very young. You have your whole life ahead of you. This isn’t what we wanted for you.’
‘Well, sorry to be such a disappointment!’
‘Mel, I didn’t say that–’ said Cat, but Mel was picking up a bag and angrily throwing things into it, whilst crying big gulping tears.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ said Cat.
‘Going to Karen’s,’ said Mel. ‘At least her mum listens to me.’
‘What – you mean Karen’s mum knew? That’s just terrific!’ said Cat. ‘Does the whole of Hope Christmas know too?’
‘No, no one bloody does!’ said Mel. ‘But at least Karen’s mum understands, which is more than you do.’
‘Mel …’ said Cat again, but Mel had barged past her and down the stairs. Dully, Cat heard the familiar sound of the front door slamming. She sat wearily back on Mel’s bed, staring at the familiar teen bedroom with its pictures of various bands that Mel had liked over the years, the shelves still full of fluffy animals that Mel refused to give up. Her fluffy slippers lay discarded by the door – she’d evidently forgotten to pack them as she’d been in such a hurry, and her dressing gown still hung on the door. For all her aspirations to be grown up, this still felt like the room of a little girl. Her little girl, who was in terrible trouble and she’d turned her away. Ashamed of herself and bitterly guilty, Cat burst into hot angry tears.
Which is how Noel found her, sometime later.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ he said. ‘Where’s Mel? And why are you crying?’
‘Oh Noel,’ said Cat, bursting into tears, ‘Mel’s pregnant.’
Noel turned ashen.
‘Fuck. Fuck,’ he sat down next to Cat, clearly in as much of a state of shock as she was.
‘Fuck,’ he said again.
‘Are you going to say anything else?’ said Cat, giving him a weak grin.
‘I’m just – I don’t know what to say – stunned, I guess,’ said Noel. ‘How? Who? When?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Cat. ‘I didn’t deal with it very well. Mel’s gone to stay at Karen’s. Everything’s such a mess – and it’s all my fault.’
Noel put his arm around her. ‘Don’t be daft,’ he said. ‘How do you figure that out?’
‘I should have guessed – I think I did really,’ said Cat, ‘but then with Mum and everything … I feel like such a failure.’
‘If you’re a failure, then so am I,’ said Noel. ‘We both made her, you know.’
He elbowed her gently.
‘Come on, Cat, don’t be so hard on yourself. We need to face this together. She’s probably upset and angry with herself as much as you.’
‘But I was so horrible to her,’ said Cat. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to be sympathetic. The poor kid must be feeling terrible. It’s just that …’
Her voice trailed off again. Noel kissed her on the top of the head. ‘You’re thinking about the baby again aren’t you?’
Despite her misery, Cat felt a surge of gratitude for Noel’s immediate empathy. She was so glad she was married to him, that she wasn’t facing any of this alone.
‘It’s been such a shit year,’ she said.
‘Ah well,’ said Noel, giving her a hug, ‘then things can only get better, can’t they?’
‘So how far gone is she?’ said Pippa struggling with three drinks through the packed bar at the Hopesay Arms. Michael’s band The Dark Angels were playing, so the place was busy with very cheerful bikers, which wasn’t ideal, but when Cat had called an emergency girls’ night out, Pippa and Marianne had both responded with alacrity.
‘A night out will do us all good,’ Pippa said. ‘God knows, I need one.’
Organising the demo had taken up all of her time in the last week, and with Dan having retreated back into a surly silence, she guiltily felt she needed to get away from home for a bit.
‘I don’t even know,’ said Cat. She looked washed-out and pale, not her usual smart self. ‘How crap is that? The signs were all there; rebellion, sneaking off, moodiness, never knowing where she was or what she was doing. Christ, Marianne, she was even sick at your barbie. But when I asked her, she kept denying it. She’s a bloody convincing liar, I can tell you that. And she seemed to be still having periods … so I thought I was imagining things. And what with Mum and everything …’ her voice trailed off. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t sound more miserable if I tried. This is supposed to be a cheering ourselves up kind of evening, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ said Marianne, with sympathy. ‘You have had an awful lot to deal with.’
‘Have you thought what you’ll do?’ said Pippa.
‘No idea,’ said Cat. ‘Mel’s taken herself off to her friend Karen’s house and is refusing to come home. I have to say I’m not impressed with Karen’s mum, who seems to think Mel has come from such a dysfunctional family, she needs taking under her wing. I don’t even know if she’s going to be at the funeral.’
‘When is the funeral?’ said Marianne. ‘I’d like to come if I may.’
‘Next Tuesday at two p.m., two days before Pippa’s demo,’ said Cat. ‘Would you? That would be wonderful if you could.’
‘I’d like to come too,’ said Pippa. Cat had been such a support to her with the campaign, it was the least she could do.
‘Oh stop it, girls, you’re making me well up again,’ said Cat.
‘By the way,’ said Pippa thoughtfully, ‘is the Karen that Mel is friends with Karen Darling?’
‘Yes, why, do you know her?’
Marianne rolled her eyes. ‘Pippa grew up here, haven’t you worked out by now that she knows everyone?’
‘I know her mum, Gina,’ said Pippa. ‘She’s a single mum who treats Karen like she’s a grown-up. I’m surprised Karen’s not the one who’s pregnant. By all accounts Gina had her on the pill by the time she was thirteen.’
‘Crikey. I’ve led a sheltered life,’ said Cat.
‘I’ll have a word with her if you like,’ said Pippa. ‘Gina means well, and I’m sure the last thing she’d want is to keep Mel away from you. She’s a huge softie, and probably thinks you’ve been cruel to her.’
‘Mel probably thinks I have been cruel to her,’ said Cat with a sigh. ‘I suppose I could have been more understanding.’
‘I don’t think many mums would be that thrilled when their sixteen-year-old daughter announces she’s pregnant,’ said Marianne. ‘I know I wouldn’t be.’
‘And yet, I probably would be,’ said Pippa wistfully, ‘because I know it’s never going to happen.’
She shook herself. She didn’t often allow herself to look ahead to Lucy’s future. The day to day was so tiring she couldn’t bear to project into the future, to think what that might bring. But one day, Lucy would be grown up. What would happen to her then?
‘Sorry, that probably wasn’t helpful.’
‘You will be the most glamorous granny in town,’ said Marianne.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Pippa.
‘That’s something to be proud of, I suppose,’ said Cat.
Marianne was having a bad day. She was exhausted and slightly depressed by the double whammy that her job share partner had just handed her notice in, and Mrs Garratt wanted her in for an urgent meeting.
‘Ah Marianne, thank you for popping in,’ Mrs Garratt said, as Marianne came tentatively into her study. She was sitting behind her desk, looking officious and anything but supportive. ‘As you know, Jane is leaving us. Which leaves me with something of a dilemma.’
Marianne had a feeling she knew what was coming next, but she played dumb.
‘Which is?’
‘I know in the past that we’ve been generous in allowing people such as yourself to have a part-time teaching role, but Jane leaving has opened up an opportunity. And I feel, and the governors feel, for the sake of the school and the children it would be better to have a full-time teacher in that role. We don’t really want another part-timer teaching half the week.’
‘So how does this affect me?’ asked Marianne flatly. Other than making an urgent phone call to her union.
‘Well of course, we don’t want to lose a teacher of your calibre,’ Mrs Garratt said smoothly, and Marianne had the absurd thought that if she opened her mouth she would show the desperately huge fangs of a wolf. ‘So of course, you can keep working part-time for us, if you so wish. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to offer you a class of your own after Christmas. You can help out in a floating capacity, parachuting in where you’re needed. Unless, of course, you want to return to full-time teaching?’
The question hung between them, though Marianne knew that Mrs Garratt was damned sure she knew the response to that one.
‘I’ll have to think about it,’ said Marianne.
It was all she could think to say, and all she could think about for the rest of the day. But as she packed up for the day she felt overwhelmed with misery. She loved her job; loved having her own class. The thought of losing that wasn’t at all appealing. But she loved the twins too, and she was struggling as it was to juggle the competing demands of home and work. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel and call it a day.
‘You should follow your heart.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Marianne was so engrossed in her thoughts she’d run straight into Michael Nicholas, looking as smoulderingly gorgeous as ever. What on earth was he doing here?
‘I’ve come for a governors meeting,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘I think you’re a great teacher, and you’ll be missed if you go, but you need to do what’s right for you and your family. And only you can know that.’
‘Oh, er, well, thanks,’ said Marianne, wondering how he knew exactly what she was thinking.
‘Call it my special gift,’ he said, winking at her, as he opened the door to let her out. ‘I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she said, and set off for home.
She was so late back, Gabriel was in earlier than her for once, and she found him playing with the twins in the lounge. They were giggling their heads off while he tickled them, letting them jump all over him.
‘How did it go?’ he said.
Marianne pulled a face.
‘How would you feel about me giving up work for a bit?’ she said. ‘I think that’s the only proper choice I’ve got.’
The twins came toddling over to her, to grab her legs, saying ‘Mama, Mama!’ which was most gratifying as they still hadn’t progressed to ‘Dada!’ and were stubbornly pursuing their own private language. Marianne would have worried about it, had it not been clear that their hearing was perfectly good, and had she not had a very sensible and sane health visitor, who told her it was quite common for twins not to speak much before they were two. ‘They’ve got each other,’ she’d said, ‘why would they want to talk to anyone else?’
‘Why indeed?’ laughed Marianne, feeling much better that she hadn’t produced two ‘backward’ babies, as her mother had so sweetly put it.
‘Oh, well, whatever you want to do,’ said Gabriel vaguely.
‘Earth to Gabe,’ said Marianne. ‘I’m talking about giving up work here. Don’t you have a stronger opinion than that?’
‘Sorry,’ said Gabriel, ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind. Seriously. I don’t mind what you do, so long as it’s what you want.’
‘I think I want to take a break,’ said Marianne. ‘That bloody head is making it so difficult for me to–’
Gabriel was looking distracted again.
‘What’s up?’ said Marianne, as she knelt down and scooped the twins in her arms.
‘Why do you think something’s up?’ said Gabriel.
‘Oh, the look on your face, the fact that you are trying really hard to be cheerful, when clearly you’re not, the fact that you’re paying no notice to a word I’m saying,’ said Marianne. ‘Go on, what’s Eve done now?’
‘Why did you think this has to be about Eve?’ said Gabriel.
‘Doh,’ said Marianne. ‘Because she is the only person who gets under your skin like this. Come on, help me get these two monkeys to bed, and we can talk about it then.’
‘So, go on then, what’s the problem?’ said Marianne, as she leant over the bath and tested the water with her elbow. The twins were running around in nappies on the landing. Luckily they hadn’t worked out how to undo the stair gate yet, but it would be a job catching them to get them into the bath.
‘It’s this weekend,’ said Gabriel. ‘It seems that Eve has promised to take Steven to some show in London, and she forgot that it was our weekend to have him.’
‘Oh,’ said Marianne. ‘Well, can we swap weekends?’
‘Apparently not,’ said Gabriel. ‘Darren booked tickets for the football the following weekend.’
‘But I thought you were taking him to that match?’ said Marianne.
‘Me too,’ said Gabriel.
‘What does Steven say?’ said Marianne.
‘He was really apologetic when I spoke to him tonight,’ said Gabriel, ‘I guess he’s in an awkward position.’
‘He certainly is,’ said Marianne. ‘Come on, it’s only two weekends. We just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
‘That might be harder than we think,’ said Gabriel with a sigh. ‘Eve is a law unto herself, you know that.’
‘I know,’ said Marianne. ‘But we have rights too, and so does Steven. It will be okay, you’ll see.’
She gave him a kiss and then went to catch the twins, who despite their protests, loved going in the bath. It was fun bathing them with Gabriel, as he didn’t often have the opportunity to help out, and he’d cheered up considerably by the time the twins were in bed. Until the phone rang and Steven was in tears, because he felt he’d let his dad down. Listening to Gabriel speaking to him soothingly to calm him down, reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault, and it didn’t matter, Marianne felt she had never loved him more. But she was also anxious. Eve was stirring things up again, and that could only be bad news.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The funeral cars deposited the Tinsalls outside Hope Christmas church. They were all there, even Mel, who, after Noel had gone round and pleaded with her, had sulkily returned home the previous day. Cat and Mel had been avoiding each other ever since, Cat being unwilling to start another argument, but at least she was here.
Andrew Lawton gave Cat an encouraging smile as he greeted the family at the church door. Then they stood in line behind the coffin, with Auntie Eileen and Angela bringing up the rear. It was a cold miserable day, but the threatened rain had held off for now. As
the organ music started, Cat stiffened her spine, and followed the coffin into the church in a daze.
Gratifyingly, the church was packed. Many of Louise’s friends from London had faithfully trekked all the way up on the train, and Cat’s own friends – some from her school days who remembered sitting round Louise’s kitchen table in their youth and several who didn’t even know Mum but had come to support her. She was touched and startled to see Len, her moody director, in the congregation, sitting next to Anna, her agent. Susan Challoner was sitting with a slightly confused looking Alfie, and even Michael Nicholas had turned up.
The family filed in and sat down in the front pew. Cat found herself wanting to look anywhere but at Mum’s coffin, with its simple wreath of lilies from her and Noel, lilies having been Louise’s favourite flower, and the larger wreath of yellow roses and carnations picked out by the children, because Ruby said it should be cheerful. Cat didn’t want to look at the coffin. Didn’t want to admit this was actually happening.
The service was a blur. She was vaguely aware of Auntie Eileen recalling the fun times they’d had before Mum got ill, and her stoicism when she realised what was happening to her. Andrew Lawton gave a moving tribute and talked of the strength both she and Louise had displayed when her illness took hold for good. Strength? Cat didn’t think she’d been strong – she had just about held it together for the years when Louise was in the home. There was nothing else she could have done.
It was only at the end, when they sang Jerusalem, Mum’s favourite hymn, that Cat felt her composure was slipping. She looked across at Paige, who was weeping hysterically in Auntie Eileen’s arms. Noel squeezed her hand and she could feel his emotion – he had been very fond of his mother-in-law. Noel’s mother Angela was hugging Ruby hard, and James wiped a surreptitious tear away from his eye. But it was Mel who defeated her. Tears streamed down her face, as she sobbed her heart out. Without pausing to think how she’d react, Cat pulled her daughter into her arms, and they both wept together.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ she said, ‘everything will be okay.’ It seemed like the right thing to say. Cat only wished she could believe it were true.