by Sue Watson
I’d also bought a couple of gifts for Ella – a lovely nude pink lipstick and a Justin Bieber album – something which, according to various teen websites, was what every twelve-year-old girl longed for, in the absence of the boy himself.
So Jon and I waited in the café for Ella to arrive, chatting, laughing easily and breathing in the cinnamon-and-gingerbread-laced air until Ella appeared in the doorway. She was half an hour late. Apparently her mother had set off late but had been too busy to call and let Jon know – or stop and say hi, but I tried not to judge. Besides, I wasn’t in a rush to meet Martha the ex – meeting Ella was nerve-wracking enough.
I was well aware that life for a twelve-year-old girl these days was quite different than when I was twelve. Nowadays teenagers were very sophisticated: they had the internet at their fingertips and a global perspective, so I was ready for whatever issues Ella wanted to chat about. What I wasn’t ready for was a twelve-year-old girl who looked eighteen, with backcombed hair, thick charcoal eyeliner and purple lipstick, chewing gum, who blanked me and rolled her eyes when I said hello.
She plonked herself down next to Jon, and I took a deep breath as he abandoned us to order some drinks.
‘Do you speak English?’ I asked. Jon told me she did – in fact she went to the international school, so many of her friends were British, and her English was excellent. But I asked hoping it might break the ice.
She looked at me for the first time, nodded and blew a huge bubble that popped before turning away to look at her phone. I didn’t need a Tarot reading from Storm to tell me I’d just been dealt the hanged man and what I thought would be an afternoon of teenage banter and chocolate cake may not be quite what I’d expected.
Jon was, of course, delighted to see his daughter and when he came back to the table with hot drinks and a selection of cakes she suddenly seemed to perk up (though she didn’t actually put her phone down for the whole hour we were in there). Jon asked her about school and she answered him in German even after he pointed out it would be ‘nice for Jenny if we speak English’. I kind of understood and felt a little sad on her behalf – she wanted to share their first language between herself and her dad and not include this imposter. I’d have been just the same if I could have spoken to my dad in our own language. Ella’s time with her dad was precious, and she wanted it entirely to herself. But in deference to Jon she spoke in English so that I would understand. However, it was an indecipherable mumble and she barely looked at me except to roll her eyes when I asked if she was on Facebook.
‘Facebook? I’m not fifty!’ she snapped. ‘God, my mother’s on Facebook and my shitting stepdad’s on Instagram.’
‘Ella…’ Jon said in a reprimanding tone. This wasn’t what I’d expected at all. I was suddenly doubtful that my gift of the nude pink lipstick would actually work with the charcoal eyes and the filthy mouth.
‘It’s fine,’ I sighed, suddenly hearing the tone my stepmother had used when I’d been rude to her and my father had desperately tried to pour oil on troubled waters.
‘I know Facebook’s for old people.’ (I didn’t.) ‘I get it… hey it’s all about YouTube now, isn’t it?’ I smiled knowingly. Surely she’d see I was cool now.
‘No.’
‘Oh… really? I thought young people were all YouTubing?’ I said, aware I sounded like I was about sixty-five. ‘There’s that one called “Zootopia”, isn’t there?’
At this she roared laughing, which I took to be a good sign until she stopped and scowled at me. ‘Her name’s Zoella,’ she spat.
‘Oh yes… I remember she brought out a book… I work in a library.’
‘Oh wow, that must be as exciting as shit.’
‘Ella! Really?’ Jon was horrified and looked at me apologetically.
‘It’s fine.’ I shook my head in an ‘I’ve got this’ gesture. ‘Yes, it’s bloody boring working in a library,’ I said. ‘But it means I can keep up to date with all the latest trends… I have a Twitter account.’
‘Snapchat.’
‘What?’ I thought she was being rude again.
‘Snapchat.’ Without meeting my eyes she waved her phone at me, like this would explain everything.
Jon was obviously dying and tried to explain. ‘It’s an app… they take pictures of themselves and send them to each other.’
‘Oh.’ I just nodded like I understood, without having a clue, and Jon shuffled uncomfortably in his chair.
‘Dude, you have no idea, do you?’ she said, addressing Jon. Her voice was definitely less acidic when she spoke to her father – and ‘dude’ was definitely a softener. I recalled now how the teen club at the library often referred to each other as ‘dude’ and wondered if perhaps I should address her like this, but looking at her rolling eyes and curling lip, I feared that might just exacerbate the situation.
‘I think you need to stop being so rude and remember we have a friend with us,’ Jon was saying.
‘She’s not my friend,’ I heard her mutter and my heart sank. Oh God, I’d done it again. I’d told myself not to imagine the perfect family – but what I did instead was imagine the perfect stepdaughter: a bright, shiny child in pigtails who smiled a lot and was looking for a librarian stepmother. When would I ever learn?
I felt somewhat defeated by this initial encounter, but at the same time I was determined this child would at least accept me, if not like me. I had to try and show her that I had her back, and I wasn’t a threat, but I had no idea how I could do this. I wasn’t completely sure if Jon and I were an item, but one thing I was sure of was I didn’t want to be referred to in the same derogatory terms as her ‘shitting’ stepfather.
‘Do you like Justin Bieber’s latest?’ I asked, thinking I was throwing a curve ball and she’d just be wowed by my knowledge of youth culture (told you I was an optimist).
‘Justin Bieber?’
‘Yeah, he’s this young boy singer…’
‘I know who he is. He’s a tool.’
‘Oh, is he?’ My heart sank, and I tried to resist but knew there was a slight chance I may get desperate and address her as ‘dude’ any second now. ‘He’s just got a new album out…’
‘What’s an album?’
I didn’t answer. How could you explain this to someone whose music was magically sent through space and ‘landed’ on their phone?
‘It’s a round disc…’ I started.
‘You mean vinyl?’
I nodded and made a mental note to dump Bieber and the nude lipstick, and next time I’d make sure I bought her something she’d like. If there was a next time.
After about an hour we decided to leave. The snow was now very deep and I was worried about getting back.
‘I should go. I don’t want to outstay my welcome. I can get an earlier coach,’ I said when Ella had gone to the toilet with her phone.
‘Oh don’t go yet – let’s do some Christmas shopping together, the three of us?’ Jon said.
‘No, this is the first time she’s met me, and I don’t want Ella to feel she has to share you all afternoon – her time with you is precious,’ I said and smiled.
Jon reluctantly agreed and when she returned we stood up and gathered our coats.
‘So aren’t you eating your cake, Ella?’ he asked as she wandered away from the table, leaving a beautiful chocolate cupcake untouched.
She shook her head. ‘I’m vegan now.’
‘Dude…’ I started, and she whipped round, a half-smile on her face, but it wasn’t affection – it was ridicule.
‘Doo – do you not eat dairy then?’ I recovered quickly and, looking disappointed, she shook her head. ‘Hey, that’s supposed to be the healthiest diet on the planet,’ I said gushingly, as I followed her out of the café, hearing my stepmother’s voice once more and seeing the look of disdain on Ella’s face that I’d once worn so well… and so often at her age. I desperately wanted Ella to like me, but at the same time I felt her pain. I knew and understood only too well how
she felt.
I longed for her to know that I too had been bruised by grown-ups falling out and leaving each other. I wanted to tell her I respected her veganism and would love to share her snapping chat and Zootopia YouTubing activities online. But I knew in my heart that, however hard I tried to make her like me, there was a strong possibility I could spend the rest of my life trying and it might never happen. My stepmother had wasted years of her life trying to reach me, but there’d been no way I was ever going to give in because I blamed her for everything that had happened to me and Mum. For Ella, her parents’ marriage had already broken up – but now I wasn’t just Dad’s new girlfriend, I was another reason her parents would never get back together and someone who might take Dad away from her. That’s why she had to start from a fighting position. It wasn’t that she hated me, she just hated the fact that here was another competitor for her father’s affection. And as Jon only seemed to see Ella when work and ex-wife permitted, his affection and attention was spread too thinly to begin with. And now there was me. I had to try and let Ella know I understood, because Jon was worth it – but then again, I wasn’t going to be trampled on. I would have to give it time, this was early days, but I had to be strong with Ella for Ella – because if she wasn’t stopped, she would just continue like this – the same way I had done.
We said our goodbyes at the bus station, where I would catch my coach back to the resort, and I watched as they both headed off down the road together. She linked arms with him, suddenly seeming less self-conscious, and he threw back his head and laughed at something she’d said. I was surprised to feel a tear spring from my eyes as I observed their easy closeness and realised they had something I couldn’t be part of. I had no relationship with my father and I had no child – and here in front of me was a reminder of both those things. I thought of the Christmases without my dad, the longing for him to come home and for us to be a family again. This was later replaced by my longing to have a child – was it really so much to ask that I could share something like that one day I thought as they disappeared into the dusty white snow.
Before I climbed on the coach I dumped the Bieber album and the lipstick in a nearby shop doorway. Somebody might like them. Sadly, these would not be my weapons of choice in the quest for Ella’s heart. Something else would be required, though God only knew what!
Arriving back at the chalet the girls were fascinated and amused to hear all about my afternoon. They gasped as I described the café, the depths of snow and the even deeper depths of Ella’s frostiness, which I hoped, like the snow, might eventually thaw.
Meeting Ella had brought back all the pain of my own childhood, yet instinctively I felt I wanted to change things for her. I didn’t know what would happen with Jon and me in the long run, but we were currently a couple and while we were together perhaps I could make things a little easier for Ella, cut through the teenage bravado and get her to talk about her real feelings?
I began to see that Ella was a gift – a strange one that may have been predicted in the hanged man in my Tarot, but a gift nonetheless. I had to see Ella in a positive light. Perhaps she was a Christmas gift in her own way – my opportunity to help another child while coming to terms with my own childhood.
Being here in this wonderful place with these great people I was gaining in confidence and self-esteem. I didn’t let the small stuff get to me; I’d even slackened on the obsessive tidying and organising. I’d left a knife in the butter that morning, something I wouldn’t have been able to do twelve months or even twelve weeks before. I was learning about what really mattered – and what didn’t.
I was seeing myself through Jon’s eyes. He’d told me I was beautiful and fun and though his daughter didn’t feel quite the same yet (an understatement perhaps?) I was ever the optimist! Jon was spontaneous and saw me in the same light, not as the uptight and abandoned forty-year-old singleton I felt I’d become.
‘I’ve been defining myself by my single status for the past twelve months – but being single doesn’t mean I’m a failure,’ I said to Jody the morning after I met Ella. ‘Yesterday Jon and I had no time alone, yet I felt somehow closer to him through Ella – okay, Ella was being difficult, but that’s what kids do. I love seeing him in the role of a parent, the way he asks her about her life and the way he smiles at her, that unconditional love that only a parent gives. I found him even more attractive, and my feelings for him are so much stronger now – he’s a father, a caring one, and I love that about him as much as I love his big blue eyes.’
We were sitting by the window, drinking coffee. The view was amazing, the mountains covered in white, the sky a pale grey and the snowflakes flurrying past like a moving lace curtain.
Jody smiled. ‘I’m happy for you, I don’t envy you the uphill struggle of The Omen daughter, but it could be worse. Don’t sweat it too much though, Jen. You’re here to work and have a good time. You’re not here to try and win over someone’s stroppy kid – that’s her parents’ job.’
‘I know, but if I want things to work with Jon then I have to get on with his daughter… she seems sad and a bit out of place. She doesn’t know where she fits into this whole divorce thing.’
‘That’s life. I mean, who fits in anywhere? We’re all just struggling to get through, Jen, but look after your own heart in all this and don’t spend your time here taking on other people’s problems.’
‘You can’t say that, Jody – you don’t understand. You’ve never been part of a broken family, Dad living miles away, Mum crying every night, your only wish throughout your childhood that your parents get back together… so please don’t tell me people don’t fit in, because some do. You did.’
She looked shocked at my outburst. I suppose it’s what was bubbling under the surface for me – it had been for years.
‘I know you felt resentful at times… but I thought you accepted me.’
‘I accepted you because I had to. If I had been as vile to you as I was to your mum then Dad would probably have avoided seeing me and, despite being stroppy and obnoxious and difficult, I wanted to see him. But sometimes when I left to go back to Mum I felt guilty, because I didn’t want to leave you all, and there were times when I was just a phone call away from calling Mum and saying “I’m not coming back.”’
‘I understand that. Your mum was miserable, snappy – she never seemed happy.’
‘Dad was the one who made her like that. He was different with her – you saw a happy, carefree guy who would come home from work and swing you round the room. I never had that dad – I had the one who didn’t want to come home, who stayed late at the office… probably seeing your mum.’
We didn’t speak for a while. What could we say? We both just sipped on our coffee and gazed out onto the white wilderness. Eventually I spoke.
‘I remember, I must have been about fourteen and I’d been at yours for a couple of days with Dad and your mum, and it was time for me to go back home. It was Christmas. I remember the tree, beautiful it was – all gold and glitter, it took my breath away every time I looked at it – but I never said anything, I kept all my thoughts locked inside. My mum never bothered with a tree. “Not worth it for two of us,” she’d say, so yours was all the more beautiful, unattainable. We were all in the living room. I was saying goodbye to you – you were asleep on your mum’s knee, just a baby. The lamps were lit, the fire was crackling and it felt warm and cosy, and I was going out into the cold, to a grey, miserable house with a woman who hated my dad and probably hated me for spending time with him. That night, more than ever before, I longed to be you, cuddled up on Claire’s knee, the snow falling in the dark outside but only warmth and light inside.’
Jody stood up from her seat and came to stand over me and, putting her arms around me, she hugged me tight. ‘I never realised, Jen… I never realised.’
Chapter 15
Bing Crosby and Bride of Chucky
I’d seen Jon most days after our trip to Saas Fee. He’d talk about
Ella and how much he hoped we could become friends, and I tried to be positive, but on the few occasions he brought her along, I didn’t feel any thawing of the ice. Once, when Jon had to work a little later than usual, he dropped her off at the coffee shop so I could keep an eye on her while I worked. I gave her hot chocolate and tried to talk to her about music and fashion, but she just basically laughed in my face.
‘I’m not “on trend”, am I?’ I’d laugh along, thinking if you can’t beat them, join them.
‘It’s phrases like “on trend” that make you look very stupid,’ she’d monotoned from behind her phone. I decided to continue serving customers, but inside I was stinging, reminded of the time I’d laughed in Claire’s face when she asked me if I liked ‘that band The Oasis Brothers’.
So when, on Christmas Eve, Jon invited me to spend the evening with him and Ella, I wasn’t exactly excited. I was keen to spend the evening with Jon and told myself this was a long-term project and wouldn’t happen overnight – I had to keep chipping away and this was my chance to make Christmas special for all of us. Perhaps this could be an almost family Christmas, I thought as I packed my overnight bag to take to Saas Fee. But I had no illusions – I knew this wasn’t going to be that Sunday-supplement Christmas filled with glitter and glad tidings. Knowing Ella, it would probably involve swearing, no eye contact and being permanently glued to her phone.
