Wendy went next, with a dress for Vanessa, rope toys for the dogs, who immediately began nudging her for a game of tug o’ war, and a beautiful floaty panelled skirt for Ava. ‘I got your size from Sam,’ she smiled.
Ava wondered when he could have peeped in her clothes for that information.
For Sam, Wendy had bought a leather jacket, dully beautiful and smelling expensive. Sam put it on and then picked Wendy right up out of her chair and hugged her. ‘It’s awesome. But you shouldn’t have.’
Wendy laid her face against his shoulder. ‘I wanted to.’
Ava gave out her presents shyly. ‘I haven’t bought anything for the dogs, I’m afraid.’ For Vanessa, Wellington boots with London street signs all over them, perfect for dog walking.
The red hair-loss hat for Wendy, who yelped with joy. ‘It’s so soft and gorgeous!’ She pulled it on and Sam took photos on his phone. She looked like a pixie.
Because of the froideur of the past couple of days, Ava hadn’t conferred with Sam on the subject of gifts for one another. Obviously, Wendy and Vanessa would expect her to have bought Sam an array of presents, in time-honoured girlfriend fashion, but common sense told her that the most likely post-Christmas scenario would be that they return their ‘gifts’ for refunds pending the faux break-up. She’d bought him a wallet of the kind that was supposed to stop your credit cards being read by scanning scammers, pocket headphones with a retractable cord, a nice bottle of red wine and the Top Gear quiz book.
What she hadn’t expected was that when he smiled and thanked her, Wendy and Vanessa would call loudly, ‘What about a thank-you kiss? Anyone would think you were strangers.’
Ava felt her eyes widen. Then Sam tilted up her chin and kissed her softly on the lips. She blushed. The embarrassment wasn’t because of the kiss being public but because even such a barely-there kiss shot straight through her, ricocheted off her groin and blanked her brain. Obviously her body hadn’t got the memo that Sam’s kiss was faux. He hesitated, as if perceiving her reaction.
Then he began to hand out his own gifts. First, a Guess watch for Vanessa, and then dog shampoo for Snickers and Mars.
‘I hope you’re not suggesting my dogs smell!’ protested Wendy in pretended outrage.
‘Who, me?’ Then, his face changing, Sam presented his mother with the hat.
Wendy stroked the hatbox. ‘It’s almost too nice to open.’ She paused to take off the red hat, then tugged gently at the hatbox’s ribbons, lifted the lid, parted the white tissue and lifted out the dashing cloche that was Sam’s Christmas gift to her.
The jade glowed in the lights from the tree, the jaunty peacock feathers a geometric fan, the looped golden ribbons adding exactly the right degree of bling.
‘Gorgeous,’ murmured Vanessa.
Sam’s lips were pressed tightly together.
Wendy glanced at Ava and made a tiny motion with the hat. Understanding, Ava took it from her hands and settled it gently on her head. The perfect angle.
Wendy’s smile was beatific, though a tear detached itself slowly from her lashes.
Sam held out his hand, helped Wendy up and led her to a mirror in the small hallway.
From the lounge, Ava could hear whispers from Wendy and murmurs from Sam. She had an uninterrupted view when Wendy turned slowly from the mirror, dropped her face against her son’s chest and began to sob. As Sam’s head was bent his face was hidden but grief was in the line of his shoulders.
Vanessa clamped her hand to her mouth, tears raining down her face, and made a dash for her room.
Quietly – or as quietly as it was possible to move with two pantingly enthusiastic Labradors trying to guess where you intended to go and get there first – Ava took herself to the kitchen to improve upon the earlier cursory clear up, binning the duck bones, to the obvious disappointment of Snickers and Mars. The tableau of unbearable sorrow in the hall hung before her eyes as she set the dishwasher going and washed the glassware by hand, listening to shuffles and murmurs disappearing down the hallway. She even dealt with the hideous roasting tins and crusty saucepans without really noticing.
Finally, she wiped and polished dry the luxurious granite and steel surfaces.
Wondering what to do next in the silent apartment, she turned to find Sam watching her, his eyes dark with pain.
She twisted the tea towel between her hands.
‘It’s the not knowing that’s hard,’ he explained gruffly. ‘We know the odds are with her but she’s got a lot of treatment ahead.’
Ava nodded, not trusting her voice.
‘She does actually love the hat. She just can’t tell you right now.’
Ava tried to telegraph ‘absolutely fine’ with her smile.
Slowly, Sam approached, slid his arms around her and pulled her against him for several seconds. ‘Thank you. The hat has made her Christmas.’ He put her from him and headed back towards the hall without letting her see his face.
Chapter Thirty
Not on the Christmas agenda
A half hour later, Wendy declared herself ready for a Christmas walk with the dogs. She’d redone her make-up and popped on the jaunty scarlet hat, flowers bobbing. The jade green one was displayed in its splendour atop its hatbox, which Sam had lifted up onto the dining island in case the dogs saw the feathers and confused the hat with food.
Sam gazed at Wendy with misgiving. ‘You’re pretty pale, Mum.’
She rubbed her cheeks vigorously to bring colour into them. ‘No, I’m not. Come on, we always walk our Christmas dinner down and Snickers and Mars need a run. It’s a beautiful crisp day and we shouldn’t waste it.’
As every day of comparative health had to be valued when human and cancer were joined in battle, he instantly gave in. ‘OK. We’ll go to Stratford Park because I can’t get four people and two stupid dogs into the car to get us to Olympic Park.’
‘Don’t you listen to him, darlings,’ Wendy cooed as the dogs milled about her feet. ‘You’re very clever.’
Sam was trying not to fuss around his mum but it was hard when she looked almost transparent and had to keep pausing to cough. He was hoping that it had just been the champagne that had made her feel so scalding hot as they’d shared a hug during her storm of tears.
But this was her Christmas. If all it took was Snickers and Mars lolloping around, their leads jingling, to set Wendy beaming as if this was the very best Christmas anybody had ever had, ever … they’d take a Christmas walk.
Ava was quiet as she slid into her patchwork coat. His conscience pinged. For someone who didn’t like Christmas he’d sure as hell landed her in a strange one. Uncomplaining, she’d joined in where she was expected to join in and hovered on the sidelines when the emotions had careered out of control. Stoical. Pragmatic. Understanding.
Most of him wanted to find an opportunity to make it up to her for dragging her into his family’s happy/unhappy Christmas. In fact, if he was honest with himself, it had crossed his mind to use Christmas harmony as an opportunity to thaw towards her.
But part of him wouldn’t co-operate. His head was being obstinate about leaving himself vulnerable to a woman who could, even briefly, believe him capable of such hypocritical creepiness. He’d been brought up despising it so thoroughly. It was almost shocking how savagely self-preservation had kicked in.
At the park, Vanessa strode ahead, throwing a ball for the dogs to pant after. Wendy and Ava walked together with Sam following.
It was hard not to watch Ava as she strolled towards the lake along the path fringed with the dank brown leaves that were all that was left of autumn’s glory. Her hair glowing in the winter sun, her head was turned towards Wendy, and Sam could see that she was smiling. He liked her smile. Her mouth.
Sam’s attention switched to Wendy, who had hooked her arm through Ava’s. A companionable act or a need for support? Was Wendy dragging her feet? Slowing?
Ava’s smile was turning into a worried frown. As if in slow motion, Sam watched Wend
y begin to sway. Ava reached out to her, lips moving on words he couldn’t hear as she struggled to keep her clear of the cold ground, clasping the slight figure, staggering and slipping amongst the wet leaves.
He was only yards behind but his legs felt as if they were taking hours to respond as he ordered them to carry him to where his mother’s knees were buckling, her head tipping back helplessly on her neck.
Then he snapped back to reality and in three strides had taken Wendy’s weight. ‘I’ve got her.’
Ava was white with shock but she kept her composure, not releasing Wendy until Sam had her secure. ‘She seemed OK then she said she felt swimmy and suddenly she was crumpling.’
‘I saw it. Well done for catching her.’ Breathing hard, he adjusted his hold on Wendy, light and fragile in his arms, seeing, with a wave of relief, her eyelids fluttering.
‘I’m all right,’ murmured Wendy, dazedly. ‘I didn’t faint. I just came over peculiar.’
Vanessa came running up, the dogs gambolling joyfully beside her. Snickers had the ball in his mouth and Mars was wagging all over as he tried to snatch it. Then he paused and his ears went up. He approached Sam at an anxious trot, gazing up at Wendy. He even stood on his hind legs to see better, brown eyes questioning.
‘We’ve got to get her home.’ Sam spoke to the dog to avoid seeing his own fear reflected in Vanessa’s face. He turned around and began the short march back to his flat with his precious burden. Vanessa hurried at his elbow. Dimly, he was aware of Ava taking the leads from Vanessa’s hands and clipping them to the dogs’ collars.
‘I think we should call a doctor.’ Sam studied Wendy, small and vulnerable on the sofa.
Wendy smiled wanly. ‘There’s no need.’
‘You fainted and you were sick when we got home. It’s not that long since you had an operation and you’re waiting for chemo. You have a temperature.’
‘I feel lots better now.’ She’d slept for an hour, a clammy feverish sleep that had had Sam pacing with anxiety and on the verge of phoning for an ambulance, but the creamy pallor had disappeared when she woke up.
‘We should at least phone the National Health helpline.’
Wendy was already shaking her head obstinately. ‘I feel better. I don’t want to spoil anybody’s Christmas. May I have a cup of tea? And less fuss?’
Ava started towards the kitchen, but Sam stopped her. ‘I’ll do it.’ It occupied him so that he didn’t gather his mum up and beg her not to get ill when it wasn’t supposed to be on the agenda. Mind whirring, he put the kettle on to boil. Should he ring the helpline despite Wendy’s wishes? Another fit of coughing had seized her and he could really use someone telling him either to take action or not to worry.
Vanessa hovered over her sister. ‘Maybe Sam’s right and we ought to check.’
Wendy blew her nose. ‘Please don’t.’ She was beginning to sound irritable. ‘Poor old Snickers and Mars hardly got a walk at all. Why don’t you take them again before it gets properly dark? Get some of the fidgets out of them. And you.’ But she smiled at her sister.
As Snickers and Mars were milling annoyingly at Sam’s feet, he could see the sense of Wendy’s suggestion. ‘That might be a good idea, Aunt Van.’
So Vanessa got the dogs’ leads again and Snickers and Mars whooshed across to the front door, ears up, tails whirring.
Absently, as he slopped milk into the tea mugs, his mind still occupied by what would be the best thing to do, he heard Ava’s phone chirp.
Then, ‘Oh no …’
And then Wendy enquiring sympathetically, ‘What’s the matter, Ava? Bad news?’
‘I hope not.’ Ava sounded flat and dreary as she tucked her phone away.
Grabbing up all three mugs, Sam crossed to her. ‘What’s up?’ He’d seen that look of trouble on her face after text messages before.
She sighed. ‘Harvey.’
Chapter Thirty-One
Trust issues
Sam clattered the mugs down onto the coffee table with more than the necessary force. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘It wasn’t a dodgy message,’ she put in hastily. ‘It just gave me an odd feeling.’
‘May I know what he said?’
With indications of reluctance, Ava read it out. ‘Merry Christmas, Ava! Ironic after your dad’s unpleasant little visit that I’m now seeing you half-naked all over the internet. Congratulations on your exposure. I hope to see more of you again soon. xxx’
‘Creep. I don’t doubt he meant to give you an odd feeling.’ Grimly, Sam watched as she tucked her phone away.
‘It’s not a threat but it makes me feel slightly threatened.’ Ava laughed unconvincingly.
Wendy was listening with a frown, lying back on the cushions. Her eyes were bright as she followed the conversation. ‘I don’t know the entire history of what happened to you, Ava, but any time someone’s making you feel threatened you have every right to take action. I’m not a legal expert or a counsellor but I’ve been involved with No Blame or Shame for long enough to know you need only concern yourself with how you’re made to feel.’
Ava heaved a broken sigh. ‘I honestly thought he’d been forced to go away.’ Her eyes were big with tears as she looked at Wendy. Then the entire story came spilling out, what she called her ‘stupidity’ in letting her boyfriend take intimate pictures of her and how she’d thought Graeme had made everything come right.
Wendy coughed occasionally and sipped her tea as she listened.
Sam found himself clenching his fists, newly angry, despite knowing it all already. But he let Ava, voice wavering, unravel the story without interruption.
She wound to a close before the episode of the pictures ending up on Jermyn’s server, the part Izz and Patrick had played and the part that Sam hadn’t. She shot him a look, as if uncertain whether he’d approve of the omission.
Wendy nodded compassionately. ‘He could be clumsily trying to put the tension between you in the past … or he might still be looking for revenge – revenge being amongst the most common reasons for harassment from an ex. My advice would be to hope for the best but prepare for the worst.’
‘How?’ Ava looked wary.
‘There are all kinds of things you can do to protect yourself. You can block his number from your phone and unfriend and block him on Facebook and any other social media where you’re connected. You can get phone software that will create “white lists” for you, so that only accepted numbers can contact you, so he can’t change his number and reopen communication.’
But Ava was already shaking her head. ‘At least while we’re Facebook friends I can see what he’s posting about me. And if he sends more threatening texts I’ll have them as evidence.’
Wendy nodded, huddling into her cardigan. ‘I can see that reasoning, but you should still understand your options. One of those is that you can try to get a court order to keep him from contacting you. No Blame or Shame has a fact sheet on its website, explaining how to get financial support for the costs or how to do a DIY injunction. I’d say that resorting to such an action is a way down the road, though. Legal remedies could have a significant effect on his life, especially if papers are served on him at work.’ She thought for several moments, her shaven head tilted thoughtfully. ‘I think your first step is to tell him you want him to stop texting, stop tagging, stop all forms of contact.’
Sam watched as Ava absorbed this with a tiny frown of disbelief. ‘It can’t be that simple. Can it?’
‘It can, though it isn’t always,’ Wendy admitted. ‘But if his behaviour escalates and you have to involve the law, you have evidence that you asked him to stop and he disregarded your wishes. So long as you’re interacting with him he can excuse himself that the channels of communication were open. He can legitimately say that you never objected to text conversations or communications on Facebook.’ She coughed again. ‘Did you ever untag yourself from the Facebook photos he posted of you?’
‘No,’ Ava admitt
ed, wonderingly. ‘It didn’t occur to me. But it should have.’
‘You can review any posts you’re tagged in, and choose to hide them from your own timeline, but that doesn’t exclude it from newsfeeds, so it can give a false sense of security. You might want to put him on your restricted list to stop him reading your posts, though. To him, it will just look as if you haven’t posted in a while.’
‘Wow,’ Ava breathed. ‘You really know this stuff.’
Sam didn’t want to interrupt the conversation but having noticed Wendy pulling her cardigan closer he rose and padded out to the hall cupboard where junk usually ended up. With some burrowing he found a fluffy blue throw an old girlfriend had given him in the assumption that the lack of throws on his furniture must mean that he was in want of some. Back in the lounge, he dropped it casually over Wendy’s legs.
With a quick smile, Wendy dragged the fluffy monstrosity further across herself. ‘It’s best to use direct language. “Please stop” rather than “I’d be grateful if you’d stop”. Use words like “immediately”. Be clear about what you’re asking and if he asks why or otherwise tries to engage you in conversation, just repeat the same text. Don’t be drawn into discussion.’
Looking intrigued, Ava took up her phone again. ‘It’s worth a go.’
While she frowned over her screen, alternately tapping and deleting, Sam smiled at Wendy. Though obviously fatigued, she smiled in return. ‘Need anything?’ he murmured.
‘Not a single thing. Thank you for giving me a lovely Christmas.’
Sam’s eyes burned that, despite everything, she still thought today ‘lovely’. ‘Sure about the doctor?’
‘Positive. I’m just tired.’
Ava cleared her throat. ‘What do you think about this? “Harvey, please stop contacting me by phone, email or any other method, immediately. Do not tag me in Facebook or other social media posts and do not post pictures of me. Do not try to see me.”’ She glanced up at Wendy enquiringly.
Wendy nodded. ‘Sounds good.’
The Christmas Promise Page 27
