Holly's Christmas Gift

by Alex Brown

  Sam wasn’t sure. Was just-turned-thirteen really old enough to be left on your own? He didn’t know, and swiftly racked his brains to try and remember how it had been when he was thirteen. But then he was a boy, so it was different. Or was it? And then he felt a pang of unease for having old-fashioned, gender-stereotyping thoughts. And he was sure Chrissie would accuse him of being sexist, or not being a feminist, for suggesting that Holly wasn’t as capable of looking after herself just because she was a girl. He’d made that mistake once before when Holly had wanted to try out the rugby club at school a couple of years ago, and he’d panicked, imagined all sorts, including serious spinal injuries rendering her paralysed. It happened, he knew. And he’d said something about it being a bad idea, and that rugby was really for boys. Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. The last thing he wanted to do was to antagonise Chrissie, with the way things were at the moment, and just when she had extended an olive branch with the chocolates too … he’d be mad to jeopardise that. And if Chrissie was OK with Holly being at home on her own, then she’d accuse him of undermining her, surely? And it was only half an hour. So he made his decision.

  ‘I trust you too, sweetheart. If Mum says it’s OK, then that’s fine by me.’ He smiled, nodded his head as if to confirm his decision, and then leant across to give Holly a kiss goodbye.

  ‘I love you, Dad,’ Holly grinned, and his heart melted. With her eyes wide and lit up, she was still so naïve in many ways, even though she thought she was all grown up.

  ‘I love you too, sweetheart.’ And then he had a thought. ‘Why don’t you stay for a few minutes? There’s no need to rush off. Especially if Mum isn’t home. We can have a chat …’

  ‘A chat?’ Holly gave him a hesitant look, wondering how long the chat would take. She liked talking to Dad, but she had better keep an eye on the time to make sure he was gone before Mum got here.

  ‘Yeah, you know … a conversation, I’ll say something and then you’ll say something and we’ll repeat the process all over again,’ he laughed, shaking his head. ‘Like we used to before—’

  ‘You went away?’ she asked, quietly.

  ‘Yes. Like that,’ he paused, ‘if that’s OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ she shrugged. ‘What do you want to chat about?’ she asked, casually.

  ‘I dunno. Um, maybe I should start by saying sorry for not coming home more often,’ Sam ventured.

  ‘Oh, Dad. You don’t have to say sorry. I totally understand. You were working to pay for everything.’ And she gave him a very serious, grown-up look this time.

  ‘I still missed you …’

  ‘And I missed you.’

  ‘Did you?’ Sam asked, not for vanity, but to try to gauge how much his absence had affected her.

  ‘Of course! Mum is so moany when you’re not here. She’s always been moany, but now it’s even worse. She’s a complete control freak too.’

  ‘Well, you two always did clash a bit,’ Sam said carefully. ‘Mum loves you very much and tries to do her best by you, always,’ he added. It wasn’t in his nature to criticise Chrissie. No matter how things were between him and her, where Holly was concerned, he felt it important to show a united parental front. It wasn’t fair for him to collude in criticising her mum … what kind of man, or indeed father would that make him? And what would it teach Holly?

  ‘Hmm, well, she could try being nice sometimes though.’ Holly twiddled the cuff of her sleeve.

  ‘And you must be nice to her too, love. Saying you hate her isn’t very kind,’ he reminded her, albeit tentatively, of how she had behaved that evening when he first got back. Chrissie and Holly had always managed to rub each other up the wrong way. He remembered when Holly was just a toddler, and her wriggling and wrangling whenever Chrissie tried to put her in the bath. They had laughed when Sam had taken a turn and Holly had giggled and bounced right on into the water with a big smile all over her face. And then when Holly was older, Chrissie had tried to show her how to tie her laces, but Holly just wouldn’t be told and the pair of them ended up bickering, to the point where he had seriously thought one of them would get hit on the head with the stray shoe that Holly had been waving about in protest. So he’d intervened again and managed to calm the choppy waters between them by finding an online tutorial for Holly to watch.

  ‘I know, Dad. But it’s easier when you’re here. You always sort it out.’

  ‘And I’m sorry for not being around as much as I should have been. I really have missed you, and Mum.’

  ‘But you’re back now,’ she said enthusiastically, ‘and who actually sees people for real any more, anyway?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sam creased his forehead in concern.

  ‘Oh, Dad. You’re so ancient,’ she laughed. ‘Katie’s dad lives in Australia; she was seven when she last actually saw him in real life. Skype is a totally normal thing. You don’t have to touch people to still love them, you know.’

  ‘Right,’ Sam said, feeling bemused by her seemingly total acceptance of this modern-day phenomena. But then how different things are for her generation – a life lived online. Virtual reality for real. It was crazy, really, when he thought about it. And a bit sad too, if he was honest. It only made him feel worse, knowing that his daughter had accepted his continued absence as normal.

  ‘And most of my best friends are online these days. Except for Katie, of course.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  Holly laughed at his ignorance. ‘YouTubers, Dad. Online places, group chats, that kind of thing.’

  ‘And they’re safe these places, are they? You never know who—’

  ‘Yes, Dad. I know all about weirdoes and pervs. And trolls. I learnt about it at school … ages ago. In like Year Two or whatever.’ She pulled a face.

  ‘Good,’ Sam nodded, deep in thought, realising how much he had missed. Holly might be cool with him not having been around, but still … ‘So what do you talk about in the … online places?’

  ‘All kinds of stuff. Makeovers. Music. Products.’

  ‘Products?’

  ‘You know, like soaps and bath oils and make-up, and there’s this dry shampoo … a new really cool one, which has pink flamingos on the can and it smells of the Caribbean.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Like Barbados or somewhere. Coconuts and papaya and stuff, and it has over five hundred five-star reviews. But it’s out of stock everywhere. Even the new mini Superdrug attached to the doctors’ surgery in the village doesn’t have any cans left and nobody ever goes in there.’

  ‘Really?’ Sam jumped in, his mind boggling at this whole new world of product importance that was opening up to him before his very eyes.

  ‘Yeah, so now I’ve had to go on a wait list.’ She sounded devastated as she pushed her bottom lip out, presumably to express just how awful this unthinkable situation was for her. Sam coughed to cover up the laugh that almost escaped from his mouth.

  ‘A wait list?’ he then managed.

  ‘That’s right.’ She turned to him with a very serious look in her eyes. ‘To be the first, or nearly the first, depending where I am on the wait list,’ she paused and pondered pragmatically, ‘so I can get one in the next phase of stock release.’

  ‘Next phase of stock release?’ Sam muttered, channelling a parrot now as he tried to get himself up to speed with it all and, for the life of him, try to fathom why his thirteen-year-old daughter sounded as if she worked in the corporate head office of some enormous consumer product conglomerate. What happened to riding bikes in the woods or jumping up and down all day on a trampoline without a care in the world? He let out a long breath. ‘So is this what you talk about, products?’

  ‘And boys, sometimes,’ she gave him a look, as if testing to see how he’d react. So he made sure to keep a laidback face on. The last thing he wanted was to make her think all that was off limits. Who knew when she might really need to talk to him about something more serious? Sam figured it best to be open so she didn’t end up doing stuff behind his and Ch
rissie’s backs and potentially putting herself in danger when she was old enough to have sex with a proper boyfriend. Which he seriously hoped wouldn’t be for absolutely ages yet – a decade or two, in fact. ‘And what happened at school,’ she added, ‘we talk a lot about that too …’

  ‘Even though you’ve been with these children all day at school,’ Sam clarified, relieved to be off the subject of boys.

  ‘Yes, Dad. And they’re not children,’ she shrugged.

  ‘Of course, my mistake. Teenagers.’ Sam elbowed her playfully. Holly’s mobile beeped and she flicked the screen to take a look.

  ‘Oh my God. Gotta go. Zoella is going online in five.’ She waggled her phone in the air to signify his slot in her busy social schedule had come to a close.

  ‘OK, love. You had better go … don’t want to miss Zoella.’ He made big eyes in anticipation and gave her a quick hug before kissing her on the cheek. ‘And don’t run, you might trip.’

  ‘Stop fussing, Dad. I’ve been walking up the path at least twice a day ever since we’ve lived here, which is like eleven years at least.’ She rolled her eyes and laughed.

  ‘Go on you, cheeky.’ Sam laughed. ‘I’ll wait here until you’re inside.’

  A few minutes later, and Sam saw Holly turn to wave before she closed the front door behind her. Smiling, he reversed, and then turned the car around to drive on to the Duck & Puddle pub in the village. He fancied a pint, and perhaps a game of darts with Matt and Cooper, if they were around; it would be just like the old days.

  Things were looking up now. Chrissie was obviously thawing, why else would she be sending fancy chocolates to him? The exact ones he had bought for her on that Valentine’s Day. So maybe there was hope that she might give him another chance. And things were great between him and Holly, just as good as they had been before he went away, and that was definitely something to be extremely grateful for.

  *

  Inside, and Holly tapped the screen on her mobile, but it was no use. She’d lost signal. No service. Not even Wi-Fi. So she was missing Zoella now. Her heart sank at the prospect of being the only one in the world not watching, which meant she wouldn’t even be able to join in the after-show chat with all her friends. And what’s the betting they’d all get to buy whatever product Zoella was sharing, right now! It was bound to be sold out by the time she got to see it. She tapped the screen a few times more. But still nothing.

  And why wasn’t the light in the hall working? She flicked the switch again. But nothing. Using her left hand to feel along the wall, she wished she had night vision or a pair of those night goggles that they wore in those nature programmes when they were looking for badgers. And she wished Mum was home. The house felt different and scary in the dark, almost like it wasn’t the same place as it was during the day. But that was silly – she was thirteen years old now and reckoned she was too old to be scared of a few shadows.

  ‘Ow!’ Holly bashed into the umbrella stand that was actually an old copper milk churn that Mum had picked up in one of the junk shops in Market Briar. Now her leg was hurting where she’d banged it, and right on the spot where it was sore from the injection that morning. She was supposed to vary the spot where she injected, but sometimes it was just easier to do it in the same place. But then the skin would go hard. Sometimes she hated the diabetes so much. Like it was a monster that had taken up refuge inside her body just to be mean and ruin everything. When she’d first got diabetes she had struggled to do the injections on her own. She’d tried to get it right, but putting the needle in was difficult. She’d hated needles when she was little and remembered screaming in terror every time she went to have her immunisation jabs. Not even the sticker they gave her afterwards could stop the tears. The only thing that helped was a big cuddle from Mum. Hmm, thinking about it, Holly realised that she could really do with one of those now.

  The nurses at the hospital had explained what she was supposed to do, but it wasn’t until Nurse Polly from Dr Ben’s surgery in the village had shown her how to do it properly that she had got the hang of it. And now it didn’t really bother her at all.

  Mum thought she didn’t know what all those tests she was having were for, but Holly knew that things weren’t quite right. She’d been going low a lot recently and she’d overheard the doctor talking to Mum about it the last time they’d been in Dr Ben’s surgery. She had gone off to get her weight and blood pressure checked with Nurse Polly next door, but had heard the end of the conversation when she went back in Dr Ben’s room. And it’s what those last couple of visits to the hospital had been about too. But she didn’t mind going there as she got to see Lauren, the girl who always had her appointments at the same time as she did, so they had sort of become friends.

  Holly wondered if Dad knew? Maybe she should tell him? Hmm, on second thoughts, he seemed worried enough at the moment, with Mum being horrible to him, so probably best not to. And she didn’t want him to go away again … like he had when they’d first found out about the diabetes. Plus, if Mum got even more horrible, then she might be able to live with Dad instead, at Granny Dolly’s house. Or she might even get to go to Singapore if Dad had enough of it back here and decided to leave for good.

  Holly made her way into the lounge and tried the light switch there. Still nothing. Next she tried the kitchen, but those lights weren’t working either. Another power cut. Typical. Tindledale was always having them and she knew it was just the way it was in tiny villages surrounded by fields, but trust it to happen when she was home alone for the first time ever. Or maybe it was a fuse? That had happened before too, loads of times. Mum said it was because Dad bodged up the electrics when he wired in the spotlights in the kitchen ceiling, so every now and then they cut out and turned the whole lot off by themselves and you had to flick it all back on again.

  Holly switched on the torch app on her phone and used it to navigate around the kitchen. She’d get a chair to stand on so she could flick the switch back on the fuse box, just like she’d seen Mum do loads of times. So, after positioning the chair beneath the fuse box, set high up on the wall in the hall, she dumped her satchel on the floor and kicked off her boots – they were covered in mud from walking across the field to Granny’s house, and Mum would go mental if she made the seat cushion all dirty. She slipped her mobile into the back pocket of her jeans, climbed up onto the chair and reached her hands up to the cabinet that housed the fuse box. After pulling open the little doors, she lifted up the cover and felt with her hands to find the switch that had tripped, but it was no use, she couldn’t seem to do it. She had another go, but it was still the same. The row of little switches were all in the up position, which meant it must be a power cut affecting the whole village.

  Holly puffed out a big gust of air and went to pull her mobile from her back pocket to put the torch app back on, just to be sure. But as she twisted her waist to reach behind, the doorbell buzzed. The seat cover swivelled and the chair toppled as she tried to steady herself. The wooden legs went from under her and, no matter how hard she tried to grab on to the fuse box, and then the radiator which was now at eye level, it was no use. She fell and landed on the floor in an awkward heap, with the chair on top of her legs. Seconds later, the blackness engulfed her. And what was that smashing noise whizzing around inside her head?

  Chapter Nine

  Jude hoisted Lulu onto her other hip and pressed the bell again, wondering where Chrissie was, because it was unlike her not to be in when they’d made arrangements to get together and have a Lykke evening in on the sofa. She had read all about Lykke in a magazine article. A Danish concept. A recipe for happiness, if you like; she reckoned it was just the thing Chrissie needed with everything that was going on in her life right now.

  So Jude had come to The Forstal Farmhouse with a big bag of provisions – a bottle of Prosecco to liven up flutes of elderflower cordial into St Germain cocktails, a couple of DVDs – the lovely, summery film, Mamma Mia, and the feel-good classic, Grease, which she an
d Chrissie used to watch all the time when they were young girls, singing along to the songs, with Chrissie channelling Sandy to Jude’s Rizzo. A giant bag of Twiglets, an enormous Yankee candle in the Happy Spring scent and a pair of handknitted crimson socks for everyone to snuggle up in, Holly included, courtesy of Hettie’s House of Haberdashery on the other side of the village. Sybs, the manager there, had called in to Darling Antiques & Interiors the other day to say hello, and after they had got chatting, Jude asked if she’d be interested in creating some items for her new Happy Homewear section. It was an initiative she had come up with after reading the Lykke article and, seeing as her own knitting skills were extremely limited, it made perfect sense to get a crafting expert in to knit some beautiful bespoke bed socks, cashmerino wraps and cardies, plus make fabulous floaty nighties and tea dresses too. Jude reckoned the new additions to the shop would go down a treat in the run-up to the summer holidays, and she’d been absolutely right, having nearly sold out of all the cardies and dresses already.

  Jude buzzed the bell again, but had to put Lulu down on the doorstep, as the weight of her and the big bag of stuff was near crippling, sending her back into a spasm. Jude offloaded the bag too, and turned to see if Tony was still waiting – some habits die hard, as he was still there, looking to see her in safely, as if she were still a young girl going for a sleepover. He’d kindly given her a lift to Chrissie’s, and was then going on to Dolly’s house for a catch-up and to see how Sam was getting on, not having had a chance to see him yet since he returned from Singapore. She grinned and motioned for Tony to go and leave her to it.

  ‘I’m a grown-up now, Dad,’ she mouthed, shaking her head and grinning. He shrugged and carried on making a roll-up. ‘Hey, stop that, you naughty girl.’ Jude turned her attention to Lulu instead, who was now scratching at the door, nosy as ever, no doubt. Jude tutted and picked the dog back up, but Lulu was having none of it, and leapt right out of her arms and resumed pawing and clawing at the black front door. ‘Lulu, stop that. What on earth is the matter?’ But it made no difference.