Saffron smiled. Her plans for a sexy evening had backfired totally. The offending basque was now spinning in the washing machine with the rest of the laundry, and her appetite for food wasn’t the only thing that was gone. But on the other hand, a couple of hours playing footsie on the sofa, provided she could switch the mummy part of her brain off, might be just what she needed …
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘That’s the lot then.’ Saffron staggered into the kitchen with three shopping bags under her arm. She dropped them by the huge pile of bags that were taking up a rather large corner of the kitchen. ‘Thanks for your help with the kids.’
‘No problem,’ said Amy, looking up from the bags she was unpacking. ‘If you’ve had the decency to invite me to come for Christmas dinner, the least I can do is babysit while you buy food for it. Now, are you sure you’ve got everything you need?’
‘I think so.’ Saffron looked anxiously at the mounds of bags spilling out onto the floor, before she realised that Amy was laughing at her.
‘Come on, Saffron,’ said Amy. ‘I’m surprised there’s any food left in the shops. This lot should keep us going until next Christmas.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Saffron. ‘I just like to be well-prepared.’
‘Listen, do you need me any more?’ Amy asked. ‘I’m doing a quick flit over to Mary’s for an overnighter, so I’ve really got to get moving.’
‘Yikes,’ said Saffron. ‘I thought she didn’t want to see you.’
Amy pulled a face. ‘I thought so too, but she rang out of the blue a couple of days ago. She’s going on a cruise on Christmas Eve, and this was the only time she had. I felt like I couldn’t say no. Besides, Josh will be pleased to see her.’
Amy gathered her things together, hauled Josh away from the TV, where The Snowman was showing for the millionth time, and they made their way across the allotments towards home.
It was a crisp, clear December day. The sun was bright, though not warm, and the allotments looked sleepy and content, as if they were just waiting for the right weather to bring them to life again. She nodded at Bill and Bud, who were leaning against Bill’s hut, wearing Santa hats and sharing the contents of a hip flask.
Amy breathed a contented sigh. While she knew there would be moments over the next few days when she would miss Jamie terribly, she was conscious that this year, for the first time, she was relishing the New Year. And Josh was so thrilled about spending Christmas Day with Matt that he didn’t seem too worried about not seeing Mary for the day itself.
A cold knot developed in Amy’s stomach as she thought about her proposed trip. She hoped for Josh’s sake they’d both be able to put their differences to one side. Knowing Mary, she would have gone to a lot of trouble to feed them, so Amy was just going to have to bite the bullet and go with it. She should go to the crematorium too. She always hated going, and was relieved that now it was too far to go regularly. But she couldn’t really go all that way without paying a visit. Besides, Josh had insisted they had to go and say ‘Happy Christmas’ to Daddy. And she couldn’t deny him that.
‘Hi there.’ Ben came to meet them gladly, Meg bounding up beside him with a joyous wag of the tail.
‘Hi to you, too.’ Amy was pleased to see him. ‘There’s hardly anyone out here today,’ she said. ‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘Killing time,’ Ben replied. ‘I’m due back at the surgery in half an hour, so I thought I’d come over here with my digital radio and commune with my winter veg. It makes a welcome break from being sneezed over, I can tell you.’
‘And did you glean anything useful?’ asked Amy, laughing.
‘Apart from hearing Terry’s tips for how to tidy up your allotment, no,’ said Ben. ‘But on the other hand, Jeremy has just played “California Dreamin’”, which is one of my favourite songs.’
‘What are you up to over Christmas?’ Amy knew Ben had been invited to Saffron’s, but hadn’t confirmed for definite yet.
‘Not sure exactly,’ said Ben. ‘I was thinking about going to my brother’s, but it turns out I’m on call. Which means I have to be sensible.’
Should he mention the skiing? Ben wondered. Then he dismissed it. Amy was scarcely likely to care one way or the other, and though he hadn’t ruled out a last-minute deal, he probably wasn’t going to go anyway.
‘So you’re not going to Saffron and Pete’s then?’ Amy couldn’t help letting her disappointment show. ‘It should be fun. I shall enjoy seeing Harry trying to palm his elderberry wine off on Saffron’s mum.’
‘I hadn’t quite decided, to be honest,’ said Ben. ‘It depends on how much of the day I have to spend at the drop-in centre for patients who ring the after-hours service. If we’re quiet I should be able to get away. But of course, I won’t be drinking.’
‘Bummer,’ said Amy. ‘I’m sure it will be fun anyway. Go on, see what you can do.’
‘Well, I suppose someone needs to keep an eye on Harry,’ said Ben. ‘So okay, maybe I will.’
‘Why does Harry need an eye kept on him?’ Amy looked at Ben in sudden alarm.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ said Ben. ‘I’m a little worried about his blood pressure, that’s all. I told him he needed to see his GP, but knowing Harry he probably hasn’t gone.’
‘Is it serious, do you think?’ Amy had grown used to having Harry on her doorstep, a reassuring presence to whom she turned frequently. And although she knew in her head he was old, he always seemed so fit and healthy that it was hard to think of him as such.
‘I’m really not sure,’ said Ben. ‘But it could be. I wish he looked after himself better. But you know what he’s like. You can’t make Harry do anything he doesn’t want to.’
‘That’s true,’ said Amy. ‘Do you think me nagging would make any difference?’
‘You never know,’ said Ben. ‘Two nagging is better than one, I suppose.’
They had reached Amy’s gate, and they both paused.
‘I’d ask you in,’ said Amy, ‘but I haven’t got much time. I’m off to see my mother-in-law.’
‘Well, see you at Saffron’s, then,’ said Ben.
‘See you at Saffron’s,’ said Amy. ‘I shall look forward to it.’
‘Me too,’ said Ben, and he waved as she went down the path.
Amy walked with a light step and smiled as she unlocked her door. For the first time since Jamie’s death, she was looking forward to Christmas Day.
‘Happy Christmas,’ said Mary, giving Amy a formal peck on the cheek.
It was what Amy had expected, but nonetheless it stung. At least Mary shed her reserve for Josh, though, who got a huge hug and kiss, and was instantly whisked away into the lounge to be shown off to all Mary’s cronies who had been roped in for the day. Amy followed her with a heavy heart. She had a feeling it was going to be a long twenty-four hours.
Mary, true to form, provided huge amounts of food. Lunch consisted of massive platefuls of roast turkey and the trimmings, followed by three kinds of pudding. At four o’clock, when Amy was still feeling full, cakes and scones appeared, followed at six o’clock with sandwiches and soup. By bedtime, Amy and Josh were stuffed.
‘Would you like to tuck him in?’ Amy said. ‘I’ll clear up if you like.’
Mary’s face lit up, and Amy felt relieved that for once she had done something right.
Mary seemed much perkier when she came downstairs.
‘Hasn’t he grown?’ she said, which automatically made Amy feel guilty, but Mary didn’t pursue it, so she decided perhaps the comment wasn’t really barbed after all.
They settled down to a desultory evening watching standard Christmas viewing, mainly consisting of repeats of The Vicar of Dibley and a Strictly Come Dancing Christmas Special, before Amy made her excuses and went to bed early.
By unspoken agreement, they had steered clear of controversial topics, so by the time Amy was leaving the next morning, she felt that she had got away without trouble this time.
‘You remember what I said, sweetheart,’ Mary said, giving Josh a big hug. ‘You can come here any time you like.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Amy, thinking, that’s not terribly practical, but …
Then Josh said, ‘Mummy, you’re not going to marry Ben, are you?’
Amy laughed and said, ‘Of course not.’
‘Good,’ said Josh. ‘Because Granny said you were.’
Mary’s face looked all pinched and pink.
‘Granny thinks you shouldn’t, though,’ Josh continued, oblivious to the effect he was having. ‘And so do I.’
‘Now Josh, darling,’ Mary said, ‘that’s not exactly what I said, is it?’
‘You’ve been discussing my love life with my son?’ Amy was appalled.
‘I think Josh has got the wrong end of the stick,’ said Mary. ‘He mentioned you marrying Ben, so I just said I didn’t think it was a very good idea.’
Fighting a desire to be incredibly rude, Amy bit her lip and simply said, ‘Mary, there is no question of me marrying Ben, I’m not even seeing him, for God’s sake, so this whole discussion is academic. I think we should call a halt to it there.’
Mary, clearly not wishing to provoke the situation further, ignored Amy’s last words, and gave Josh another big hug.
‘Now, you be a good boy for Granny, and Santa will bring you lots of lovely presents.’
‘Will Santa come on your cruise ship?’ asked Josh, completely oblivious to everything else.
‘Of course,’ said Mary.
‘But how will he get down the chimney?’ Josh asked.
‘Ah, he won’t need a chimney,’ said Mary. ‘He’ll fly in with his reindeer and land on the deck of the boat.’
‘Oh good,’ said Josh. ‘Then you can get your presents too.’
Mary’s laughing response lightened the mood, and Amy kissed her with more warmth than she felt. She didn’t want to have a row with Mary just before Christmas, however cross she was.
It was only later, as she and Josh went to put flowers by Jamie’s plaque, that Amy’s fury returned with a vengeance. As Josh ran excitedly about – once the flowers were laid he had lost interest – Amy stared at the plaque bearing Jamie’s name, and angry tears sprang to her eyes.
‘Oh Jamie,’ she said out loud, ‘why did you have to leave me? I feel so guilty about your mum. But who I see is none of her business. Is it?’
The question hung empty before her. There was no response. What did she expect? She was talking to a plaque on a wall. Wherever Jamie was, he wasn’t here. And he didn’t have any answers for her. Sighing loudly, Amy called to Josh and they headed home.
‘Mummy, Mummy, Father Christmas has been! And I got a Dalek! And Becky got a Dr Who DVD!’ A jack in a box had landed on Saffron’s bed, jumping up and down maniacally. It was Matt, who obviously felt that Christmas Day should start now.
Saffron rolled over and looked at the clock. Five thirty. Oh dear.
‘Matt, it’s not time to get up yet,’ she muttered.
‘But Mummy, I want to see if Santa’s left any more presents downstairs.’
‘Go back to bed,’ mumbled Saffron.
‘Nahahhh, whaaat?’ snored Pete, as usual oblivious to the chaos caused by his wife’s offspring.
‘Matt, why don’t you go into your room and play with your Dalek,’ suggested Saffron, rubbing her head. Her mouth felt like sandpaper, and she regretted the half-bottle of port she had sunk with her mother before bedtime. Pete had snuck off to the pub with his mates for a pre-Christmas drink. Saffron was supposed to have gone too, but Gerry, in true How Can I Cock Up My Ex-Wife’s Lifestyle fashion, had taken the kids out for dinner and got them back late. Not only that, but he had filled them up with E numbers, chocolate and fizzy drinks, so to say they were hyper was putting it mildly. And, by the looks of things, Matt hadn’t quite come back down to earth. It didn’t seem fair to dump two wild children on her mum, despite her generous offer of babysitting, so Saffron stayed in instead. Ellie was slightly unsettled anyway, so that wouldn’t have been fair either. Pete had come back about midnight, full of bonhomie, and together they had ended up wrapping presents till 2 a.m.
‘Remind me to do this earlier next year,’ Saffron had said, yawning with relief when it was all done.
‘You always say that,’ Pete had replied. ‘Come on, it’s time Santa came down the chimney. And after he’s done his duty, he might want a small reward.’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Saffron had grinned, snuggling up towards Pete. Little did he know that she had planned an extra Christmas present – herself wrapped up in all her sexy finery, just ready for him to unwrap.
They’d staggered upstairs to extricate stockings from bedrooms only to be met on the stairs by two white-faced little waifs, looking for all the world like a pair of ghosts. ‘Is he here yet?’ the children had demanded, while Saffron and Pete had stared at one another in horror. Weren’t they tired at all?
‘No,’ Saffron said. ‘And he won’t be unless you go straight to sleep.’
Of course, sleep being nigh on impossible on Christmas Eve when you’re seven and five, Pete and Saffron had passed an uncomfortable hour dozing on the stairs until the kids finally nodded off. Any thoughts of extracurricular activity long gone, Saffron had rushed downstairs to grab presents to put into stockings, and eventually they’d staggered into bed about 3 a.m. Bloody hell, she’d had just over two hours’ sleep.
Matt, following instructions, went haring off to his room screaming ‘Exterminate!’ at the top of his voice.
Shit. He’d wake the whole house up. Reluctantly, Saffron threw on her dressing gown and extricated him from his room with promises of chocolate and Dr Who. Becky, who had been quietly playing with her Bratz dolls, appeared as if by magic when she heard the immortal words Dr Who, and Saffron took them downstairs with their duvets. She curled up on the sofa and semi-dozed while the good doctor dispatched sundry villains. Eventually she was aware that the children were sleeping too. It was 7 a.m., so she decided she might as well put the turkey on. As she went back to bed, a cry from Ellie’s cot informed her that her youngest was just about to join the party. Happy Christmas one and all, Saffron thought ruefully as she popped Ellie onto her breast. Dickens had evidently never done the baby thing then …
‘Come in, come in,’ Pete greeted Amy and Josh at the front door. ‘Merry Christmas and all that. I’m really sorry but we’re running a little late.’
‘No problem,’ said Amy, kissing him on the cheek. ‘Happy Christmas. It’s so good of you to have us.’
‘Our pleasure,’ said Pete, taking the bottle of wine that Amy had proffered. ‘Saff ’s in the kitchen. She hasn’t had much sleep and it’s making her very bad-tempered.’
‘Does she want a hand?’ Amy asked.
‘About four would be good,’ replied Saffron, who had emerged from the kitchen. There was a slightly wild look in her eyes. ‘I’ve had about two hours’ sleep, dealt with total meltdown between my children, who are so tired now they’ll probably crash out before lunch is served, and the bloody turkey isn’t cooking. Meanwhile, my mother, who I was relying on to babysit, isn’t feeling well so has taken to her bed. But otherwise it’s going well. Bottoms up!’ She waved a sherry glass at Amy.
‘Blimey, it’s a bit early, isn’t it?’ Amy said.
‘I figured I couldn’t feel much worse than I do,’ said Saffron, ‘so I’m topping up from last night. Hair of the dog and all that.’
‘You look knackered,’ said Amy.
‘Tired and emotional just about sums it up,’ said Saffron. ‘Why did I invite so many people to lunch? Why? Why? Why? I must be mad.’
‘What is there to do?’
‘Only everything,’ said Saffron, hiccoughing hysterically and dropping her sherry glass on the floor. ‘Oh shit,’ she said.
‘Look,’ said Amy tactfully, ‘why don’t you go and catch u
p on sleep? I’m sure Pete and I can manage here.’
‘I couldn’t,’ said Saffron doubtfully.
‘Yes, of course you could,’ said Amy. ‘I’d be happy to help. Go on, off you go.’
Amy’s confidence drained away from her once she was in the kitchen. The only time she had cooked Christmas dinner it had been for herself and Jamie. The thought of cooking for – how many people did Saffron say were coming? It had to have been at least eight adults plus the children – was daunting to say the least.
Luckily the turkey was already on, though a quick prod demonstrated that it was anything but ready. Saffron meanwhile seemed to have made it as far as the potatoes in terms of peeling, but while they were in the pan, they weren’t cooking yet. First things first. Amy turned on the potatoes, before confronting the carrots. There was a mammoth pile of sprouts looking at her, but she wasn’t sure she could face them just yet. Pete seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth, the sprouts were beckoning to her alone.
‘Whoever decided that sprouts were a must-have on Christmas Day?’ wondered Amy aloud. ‘No one eats them for the rest of the year.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ said a welcome voice.
Amy looked round. Ben was standing before her.
‘You made it then?’ she said.
‘Yup, I worked last night and this morning and someone else is covering now, so I’ve got until nine o’clock before I need to do my duty again,’ he said. ‘Do you need a hand? I’m a dab hand at sprouts, even though I loathe them.’
‘That would be great,’ Amy said. ‘I’d better just check on the children. I dread to think of the mayhem that’s going on.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Ben. ‘They were all jumping on Harry, so Pete put a video on. And Pete seems to be coping with the baby admirably. The Guys and Pete’s sister have just turned up, so I offered to help you while he plays Mine Host.’
‘It wouldn’t go amiss,’ said Amy with a grin. ‘The sprouts are all yours.’
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