Just for the Holidays

by Sue Moorcroft

  Michele lowered her voice. ‘You know I feel lumpy in the mornings.’ Her skin did look pale and waxy.

  ‘We can hang on until you feel well enough to come with us.’

  Michelle belted on a blue robe and dropped her phone into its pocket. ‘I can’t go kayaking in my condition and I don’t want to tell the kids why yet.’ She unwound the towel and began to rub her hair.

  ‘We can do something less energetic.’

  ‘I’d hate to ruin things for them. I’ll put my feet up today, have a lovely dinner ready for when you come home, then spend the evening with the children.’ Michele began to brush her wet hair sleek against her head. She looked different without her curls. Harder.

  Or was that just how she was, these days? Harder?

  Although Michele picked up the hairdryer and paused, poised, as if to hint she had other things to do than chat, Leah meandered to the bedroom chair and plumped down into its depths. ‘It’s turned out to be a good thing that Alister’s here, with you having morning sickness. I know you wouldn’t have put on me to take the kids out all the time.’

  Michele’s eyes glinted oddly. ‘Alister told me last night that I’m acting like a stranger so I suppose I might do anything. What do you think? Do you still know me?’

  Leah’s sympathy warred with exasperation. ‘Of course I do. I just don’t really understand what’s going on with you.’

  Blinking, Michele fidgeted with the hairdryer, dropping her gaze. ‘Maybe you should.’

  Leah leaned forward and covered her sister’s hands to still her fretful movements. ‘But all our lives you’ve known what you wanted. To be a wife and mother with a home in a nice area and a sensible car to ferry your kids around in. Now you’re suddenly less cautious than I am.’

  Michelle shrugged. ‘Your choices are just as carefully thought out as mine. It’s just that they’re all about how to avoid having kids or a husband who would stop you from indulging yourself with car races or stunt driving. Why shouldn’t I want my life to be all about me, sometimes?’

  ‘Because you gave that up to have children. Shell, even if you stop being Alister’s wife you can’t stop being a mother. You’re in a strange place but none of this is easy on Jordan and Natasha.’

  Michele’s shoulders began to quake. ‘I know. I’m the worst mum in the world.’

  Though aware she was being manipulated, Leah was unwilling to damn Michele’s hitherto conscientious parenting. ‘You’re absolutely not, or the kids wouldn’t be so keen to spend time with you.’ She jumped to her feet and assumed a bright tone and matching smile. ‘Look, take today for yourself. Put on your pretty dress and flake out in the garden. Read, paint your nails, snooze. There’s even a hot workman next door to watch. Then maybe you’ll be ready to go out with the family tomorrow.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Michele managed a watery smile, picked up her hairbrush and switched on her hairdryer.

  Unfortunately, the day’s kayaking on the River Ill in the forest of Illwald achieved a poor rating on the fun scale. Natasha, though she achieved her aim of sharing a boat with Leah, became tearful every time she was splashed, Jordan called her Gnasher, or one of the ugly grey bugs that plagued the river took a bite of her. As a result, she spent most of the day sporting damp eyes. Every ten minutes she’d sigh, ‘I wish Mum was with us,’ which made Jordan snap, ‘Shut up, Gnasher.’

  Alister emerged from his thoughts long enough to say, ‘Bit kinder, maybe, Jordan?’ and Jordan fell to silent scowling, stabbing the khaki surface of the river with an angry paddle.

  Leah drove home longing to hide away in La Petite Annexe and treat herself to a huge glass of pinot gris. Instead, as she shifted down a gear to encourage The Pig up the slope towards the gîte, she cast around for something to improve the mood. ‘Do you kids want to make mug cakes when we get back? Your mum’s preparing dinner but we could make dessert.’

  ‘Are mug cakes like cupcakes, only bigger?’ Jordan’s expression lightened.

  ‘No, a mug cake’s made in a mug, in the microwave.’

  Natasha who’d managed to bag the front passenger seat coming home, looked more cheerful, her nose red from the sun. ‘Chocolate mug cake?’

  ‘Of course. Nice and gooey. We can put some cola in the mixture to make it moist.’

  ‘Any chance of coffee in mine? Good and dark?’ Alister smiled at Leah via the rear-view mirror. Smiling wasn’t something he’d done a lot of today and Leah grinned in return. Alister was a nice man. He’d been her brother-in-law since she was seventeen and it was painful to see him so sad, yet trying to cover it up. ‘Coffee, cola, nuts, orange, strawberries – everyone can choose.’

  The atmosphere lightened as Jordan suggested ‘Marshmallow and Haribo’ and Natasha countered with ‘Banana and lime. And chocolate, obvs.’ Amazing what cake could do to lift the spirits.

  When they pulled up in front of the gîte, Leah spotted that the workman from earlier had moved his area of endeavour to the front balcony of the house next door, while his studs-and-chains young companion leaned on the rail, playing with his phone. Both turned at the sound of the car. The workman flashed his grin, giving an airy wave of his paintbrush before turning back to his work. The teenager just looked.

  ‘Who’s that boy?’ hissed Natasha.

  Jordan tugged her hair. ‘Someone too cool for you.’

  ‘He’s not!’ Natasha responded in indignation. ‘He’s just Goth. We’ve got loads of Goths at school. They’re not allowed to wear their piercings in school but they put up with it because Goths are big on tolerance.’

  ‘Being excluded if they don’t comply has a lot to do with that kind of tolerance,’ Alister observed.

  He and Leah began to clear The Pig of the cans and bottles accumulated during the day. Jordan and Natasha dawdled off down the path at the side of the house as if the mess was nothing to do with them.

  Overtaking the kids, Leah followed Alister through the back door and into the kitchen. The room was cool and quiet. She paused, listening, becoming aware of Alister listening in the same way.

  She glanced at her watch. Six thirty. The kitchen looked exactly as it had when they’d left it this morning. No salad washed, nothing cooking. She glanced out of the window. No barbecue alight.

  ‘What’s for dinner?’ Natasha bumped through the door behind them. ‘Or can we start the cakes straight away? I’m staaaaaaaaaaarving.’

  ‘Can I have crisps?’ demanded Jordan.

  One glance at the apprehensive expression that had settled over Alister’s face and Leah smoothly picked up the slack. ‘Dinner before the cakes,’ she suggested brightly. ‘I’ll whip up a risotto and we’ll have it with salad. There’s some of that fab bread left, too, I think.’

  ‘I’ll find Mum.’ Natasha trotted off through the hall.

  Alister cleared his throat. ‘I thought Michele said she’d cook?’

  ‘She’s probably having a nap.’ Leah hoped. But, somehow, she didn’t think so – the house had had an empty air. She slopped a little olive oil into a heavy pan, popped it onto the hob to heat, took out two onions and topped, tailed and peeled them. With swift, machine-gun movements, she passed them under her flashing blade, ch-ch-ch-ch-CHAH, using the back of the knife to scrape the pieces from the chopping board into the pan, stirring briskly, then turning to the fridge for bacon, mushrooms, parmesan and cream.

  Natasha bounded back into the room, eyes wide. ‘I can’t find Mum!’

  Somehow Leah wasn’t shocked to hear it. She just tried to smile reassuringly as the delicious smell of sizzling bacon filtered into the air. ‘She’s probably gone for a walk.’ But she’d had all day. Why would Michele leave it until now, when she’d promised to have dinner waiting?

  She glanced at the others to try and read their expressions but Jordan was frowning ferociously at his phone while Alister moved wordlessly to the fridge, took out a tall green bottle of Crémant d’Alsace and lifted down two glasses from the rack. He filled both and passed one to Leah.
Unnerved by his silence, and in no way treating the sparkling liquid with the respect it deserved, Leah took a couple of big gulps. ‘How about one of you kids text your mum and see where’s she’s got to? Tell her dinner will be ready in forty minutes.’

  Jordan and Natasha began to squabble about who should do the texting. Under cover of their noise, Alister hovered close to Leah. ‘Do you know where she is?’ His wineglass trembled slightly.

  Her heart squeezed at his evident misery. All Alister had ever done was be Alister, steady and kind. Even if it wasn’t massively exciting, that had once been what Michele wanted. Leah took another slurp of wine, beginning to wonder if she might need a lot of it before this holiday was over. ‘No idea,’ she whispered.

  ‘Shit.’ Alister gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘I don’t even know why I’m surprised. What’s a forgotten meal when you can shuck off a marriage like an unfashionable coat?’

  ‘Mum’s on her way!’ cried Natasha, saving Leah from having to think of a response. ‘She says she’ll be ten minutes. I’ll go outside and wait.’

  As she banged through the door Jordan observed loftily, ‘Natasha’s such a baby.’

  Leah weighed out the rice and made up a jug of stock, remembering thirteen being a pretty confusing age even without the shock of a parental separation. ‘Good job she’s got a brother who’s a whole two years older to be kind to her, then. Eh, Jordan?’

  ‘Big brothers are meant to be kind?’ But he grinned sheepishly, as if taking Leah’s message on board.

  It was nearly twenty minutes later that Michele finally strolled in, Natasha clinging to her arm. Leah looked up from grating parmesan. ‘Are you better? I thought you promised to make dinner.’

  Michele looked better – except, perhaps, for a little guilt around the eyes. ‘Sorry! I forgot the time.’ She ruffled Jordan’s hair, as much as his hair would ruffle now he’d taken to lacing it with gel or gum or whatever was that week’s favoured product.

  Under cover of topping up his glass Alister muttered to Leah, ‘Promises, eh? Like “Till death us do part”? Turned out to be crap.’

  Leah stifled an inappropriate urge to giggle, though nothing about the situation was actually funny.

  ‘And I see it’s wine o’clock.’ Michele reached for an empty glass.

  Alister halted his drink halfway to his mouth. ‘Really?’ He shifted his gaze meaningfully to her mid-section.

  For a second Michele looked thrown, as if the existence of Baby Three had slipped her memory. Silently, she turned to the fridge and filled her wineglass with orange juice.

  Chapter Two

  ‘I hope Mum comes out with us today.’ Head on hand, Natasha was playing with her croissant instead of eating it, a sheen on her skin from where the morning sunshine streamed in through the kitchen window.

  Jordan had already wolfed a cheese doorstep sandwich and two croissants. ‘Yeah.’ His expression was hidden, absorbed as he appeared to be in fraying the bottom of what he termed ‘shorts’, despite their ending halfway down his calves. Calves that seemed too hairy to belong to someone Leah still thought of as a boy.

  Anxious that the kids might be beginning to pick up on Michele’s uncharacte‌ristically evasive behaviour, Leah debated whether to suggest a visit to the water park in nearby Muntsheim. Even if Michele was supposedly feeling delicate it surely couldn’t be too taxing to read or snooze while the kids hurled themselves down the chutes?

  Alister got in first with a simpler plan. ‘How about we hang out in the garden? Then Mum won’t have far to go when she feels well enough to join us, will she?’

  A smile lit Natasha’s face. ‘I’ll tell her.’

  ‘Cool,’ agreed Jordan.

  ‘But you’ll do something more active than playing Minecraft, won’t you, Jordan?’ Alister said, employing his mild-but-inflexible voice.

  Jordan sighed and climbed to his feet. ‘OK. I’ll get my supersoaker to shoot Nat with while she plays boules.’ He sent Alister a challenging look but Alister, who picked his battles wisely, merely smiled.

  The kids gone, Leah began to clear the table, admiring the delicate pale blue and green of the crockery. ‘I’m perfectly happy to play boules or get into water fights but are you and Michele going to be able to do it without … an atmosphere?’ She managed to bite back the urge to call it ‘public displays of animosity’.

  Alister watched her load the dishwasher. ‘I’m sorry. This is crappy for you. My suggestion we stay here today is an experiment.’

  Leah abandoned her tower of crockery to give him a friendly hug. ‘I’m not going to ask about the nature of the experiment or what data you hope to collect. I’m just sorry it’s all gone wrong between you.’

  His body seemed to sink in on itself as he sighed but whatever he opened his mouth to reply was lost in Michele’s entrance as she banged crossly in, throwing back over her shoulder, ‘No, stay up there, please, Natasha. I want to talk to Dad.’

  ‘I’ll leave.’ Leah turned for the door to the garden.

  ‘Appreciated,’ murmured Alister.

  ‘Why should you?’ Michele snapped simultaneously. ‘You’re involved in this Happy Families plan for today.’

  Alister met her ire with coolly raised eyebrows. ‘Basing ourselves here will enable you to see something of your children without worrying about feeling queasy in the car or doing anything too active for your delicate condition. Does that cover whatever excuse you were about to trot out?’

  Acutely uncomfortable as Michele and Alister glared icicles at each other, Leah resumed her escape. ‘I’ll get more loungers from the summerhouse.’

  She closed the door on Alister’s low-voiced ‘Think what’s best for the children, Michele.’

  Intent on keeping clear of the battleground, Leah dawdled as she set out the wooden sun loungers. Casting around the capacious summerhouse she located a paddling pool and a hose and dragged them out, too. The gîte and its neighbour were the only residences this far up the lane and there seemed to be nobody next door but the workman and his young assistant so she doubted it mattered if they had a water fight and it got a bit screamy.

  She watched the clear water burble into the pool. Think what’s best for the children … If not for the kids, she’d reverse her car out of the garage and make a break for it instead of sticking around to share the death throes of Michele and Alister’s marriage.

  But, as she was here, Leah could – probably – prevent spilled blood, and that definitely came under the heading of ‘best for the children’. Mentally polishing her halo she let herself into La Petite Annexe to change into her bikini. It didn’t cover as much as she would have liked, but she hadn’t had much time for holiday shopping and she was amongst family.

  After slathering on factor 50 and grabbing her magazine, she reserved herself a lounger and settled down to try and Facetime Scott during his morning break. Scott had been her best friend since school and she usually saw him several times a week, sharing their love of all-things-car. She missed him. If anyone knew her deepest, darkest secrets, it was Scott.

  ‘Hey, you,’ he answered snippily as his image leaped to the screen, brown hair shining and spiked at the front. ‘Finally found time in your holiday schedule to remember the existence of your bestie?’

  ‘Don’t be grumpy. I’m feeling homesick and I wanted to hear your voice. As lovely as Alsace is, I’d rather be back in Bettsbrough enjoying the gardening leave I’d planned. Got to support Michele and family, though.’

  ‘Oh. OK.’ He looked mollified. ‘So what’s the place you’re staying like?’

  Leah directed the phone screen towards La Petite Annexe so the camera would capture it for him. ‘This is my bolthole.’ Then she lined up on the gîte, panning around so he got the full impact of all three floors and the impressive timberwork on the outside. ‘And this is where the others are.’

  ‘FFS, it’s massive! Have you got a rugby team visiting or something?’

  Leah laughed as she turned her
phone so they could see each other again. ‘There aren’t quite enough spare rooms for that but it’s certainly not cramped.’ And she told him about the long drive over and the frost occasionally twinkling between Michele and Alister.

  Leah’s spirits rose as, in return, he gave her a jokey rendition of his latest run-in with his boss, including his outrageous excuse that his work was suffering simply because ‘his bestie’ was in another country. Scott always made her feel better with his uniquely snarky affection and she sighed along with him when it was time for him to wind up the conversation with ‘Got to get back to work, I’m afraid. Get yourself home as soon as you can.’ He blew a kiss and disappeared.

  Regretfully, Leah put away her phone as Natasha and Jordan burst into the garden, Jordan armed with a Rambo-sized water gun and Natasha with plastic bowls from the kitchen.

  ‘Girls against boys!’ Natasha yelled, frisbeeing a bowl in Leah’s direction.

  With little choice but to join the fray, Leah snatched the bowl from the air and, taking outrageous advantage of Jordan’s exposed position at the pool as he filled his supersoaker, scooped up a healthy bowlful of glistening water and sloshed it down his bare back. ‘Girls against boys!’

  ‘Waaaaah, freezing!’ Jordan heaved harder on the plunger that loaded his weapon. ‘This means water war!’

  ‘Water war!’ Natasha, screaming like a chimpanzee, leaped into the middle of the paddling pool just as Alister emerged from the house. With no respect for his sombre expression she scooped a wave of water in his direction.

  The arc of water hung in a shimmering rainbow in the air before sloshing over Alister’s head and chest. He flinched. Blinked. Then, resignedly, he dragged off his T-shirt, laid his bespattered spectacles away and calmly took up the garden hose. ‘OK, water war.’

  ‘You can’t have the hose, Alister, it’s not fair to outgun us by that much!’ Leah tried not to trip over her flip-flops as she raced to remove herself from the firing line.