by Alix Kelso
Shuffling her chair closer, Chrissie wrapped her arms around Alison and hugged her tight. What had happened to Poppy was upsetting, yes, but she knew her daughter well enough to understand that this reaction wasn’t only about that.
“What’s going on?” Chrissie said, running her hand gently over her daughter’s head.
Alison wiped at her tears. “Everything just seems so impossible, Mum. We’re all living together in one room. Gregor works every hour God sends, but still we don’t have any money and I can’t understand why. We’re never going to be able to get out of here, and…”
A long silence followed. “And?” Chrissie finally said.
“And… I’m pregnant.”
Surprised joy burst through Chrissie like a bright flash, but it was soon replaced with dull anxiety when she saw the look on Alison’s face.
“It’s probably why I’ve been so careless and moody,” Alison said quietly. “The only thing I can think about is that I’m pregnant and every other thought just flies out of my head. We didn’t plan it. I mean, we don’t even have our own place. How could we possibly afford another baby? Everything’s such a mess.”
“You don’t want the baby?” Chrissie said carefully.
Alison began sobbing again. “I do want the baby! Of course I do! But I don’t know how can we afford it. We can’t fit another child into this house, but we can’t afford to move out.”
“Does Gregor know about the baby?”
Alison nodded. “He’s thrilled. He says we’ll work it all out. It’s like he’s delusional. And how can I look after another baby when I can’t even care for the one I already have?”
Chrissie put her hand on Alison’s chin and tilted her head towards her. “I won’t hear another word like that. You’re a wonderful mother, Alison. Accidents happen, and if you’re going to beat yourself up like this anytime something bad happens to your child, you’ll destroy yourself.”
Chrissie pushed a box of tissues across the table and Alison grabbed a handful and blew her nose. Poppy gazed up at them from the floor, her plastic sheep forgotten at the sight of these tears and emotions. When she held out her arms, Chrissie reached down and picked her up and settled the toddler on her knee, enjoying the sweet feeling of her granddaughter’s warm little body against hers.
Once Alison had wiped away the tears and was a little calmer, Chrissie smiled. “Want me to tell you a story that might make you feel better?”
Alison glanced up as she gave her nose a final blow and shrugged. “Sure.”
Chrissie rocked Poppy on her knee for a few seconds before she began.
“When you were seven months old, I dropped you on your head and you needed three stitches to close the wound.”
Alison’s eyes widened and she reached up and felt around in her hair. “That’s what this bump on my head is?”
Chrissie nodded.
“But you told me I got it when one of the other kids at nursery hit me on the head with a wooden toy.”
“I lied,” Chrissie said. “Once you were old enough to notice the bump and ask questions about it, I was too embarrassed to tell you the truth. So I lied. That’s what parenting does to you, Alison – it turns you into a terrible, guilty liar.” Chrissie laughed and was pleased to see Alison laugh too. “The truth is, when it happened I was trying to do a million things at once, just like you were trying to do when Poppy swallowed your ring. I was irritable because I was living with your granny and you were teething and it was a tough time. I was tired and exhausted and I dropped you. There was blood everywhere. I thought I’d killed you. I’ve never had a scare as bad as that in my life.
“Your granny kept me calm, and after we got you to the hospital and got your stitches sorted, we all trudged back home and I as good as had a heart attack from the delayed shock. And your granny had the exact same conversation with me as I’m having with you now. Parents make mistakes. Get used to it. You’ll make more mistakes with Poppy and you’ll make mistakes with this new baby, too.”
“Thanks for cheering me up.”
Chrissie laughed again. “But right now you’re pregnant and a little emotional and worrying about far too many things at once. We’ve got ages to figure all this out before the baby comes.”
Alison nodded and small sobs once more hitched through her. “I feel silly and stupid.”
“Also part and parcel of the great adventure of being a parent.”
Alison laughed as fresh tears fell and Chrissie found tears of her own welling in her eyes. What a mystery it all was – life and love and parenting – and yet you just had to keep going and do your best and hope it would be enough.
Chrissie smiled and kissed Poppy’s head, and then ran a hand over Alison’s tear-soaked cheek. “How about you and Poppy have a nice lie down upstairs? The doctors said she’d be drowsy from the effects of the anaesthetic and she’s falling asleep here in my arms. While you both rest, I’ll fix us some dinner and come and get you when it’s ready.”
Alison nodded. “Okay, I’d like that. Thanks, Mum.”
As soon as Chrissie got the two of them settled upstairs, they immediately began to drift off. A nap would do them good, and hopefully when she woke, Alison would feel a lot better about things.
A new baby, Chrissie thought once she was back in the kitchen and hunting through the fridge and cupboards for the makings of dinner. What a wonderful thing, and what a terrifying thing, too. She could understand only too well why Alison was upset and frightened. There was simply no space in this house for another child.
Well, there was space, actually. Chrissie could give up her bedroom and sleep on the sofa. And she’d do it, too, if she had to, even though she could imagine what it would do to her back to be sofa-surfing at this age. Still, a mother did what had to be done.
But just like Alison, Chrissie couldn’t help but wonder about all those long hours that Gregor worked and why they still didn’t have enough money for their own place. Chrissie knew it was tough on young folks these days and that housing was expensive. But Gregor had a good job and Alison’s part-time money was decent, too. They weren’t paying any rent while they lived with Chrissie, so where was all the money going?
Chrissie decided she’d take Gregor aside and talk to him about all this. Did Gregor know Alison was driving herself mad with these questions about the future? And if he did, what was he going to do about it?
Not for the first time, Chrissie felt a cold ripple of fear run over her skin at the thought that there was something going on here that she didn’t know about. Alison said that Gregor was thrilled about the new baby, but Chrissie had heard that line before when she’d told Steven she was pregnant, and yet his enthusiasm had come to naught. She thought again about Gregor’s long absences from his family and his departure tonight just when Alison needed him most, and found herself shuddering at the prospect that her suspicions might yet be proved correct. Was the young man about to leave his family? If so, Chrissie would wring his neck.
It was time for a heart-to-heart with Gregor and for some frank truths.
As Chrissie chopped an onion and pulled together the makings of a simple pasta dinner that would be the perfect comfort food for Alison and Poppy after such a torrid day, her thoughts strayed to Keith. A momentary pang of regret reminded her that she’d hoped for something good with this man. But now all she felt was relief that she’d ended it. Alison needed her now more than ever. A new baby was on the way and Chrissie had to do whatever she could to help her family cope. There was no space in that scenario for a man and a relationship.
It was as simple as that.
29
“This is my last drink in this pub as a single man,” Big Kev said and grinned as he raised his pint to his lips.
It was Monday afternoon in The Crooked Thistle and the place was quiet. Keith didn’t mind the slower pace. Saturday and Sunday had been hectic and he’d been glad to be kept busy. But today he felt weary and his head hurt from trying not to think ab
out Chrissie. A slow Monday behind the bar was fine with Keith.
“Cheers and good luck,” Jimmy Pearson said, raising his glass to Big Kev’s and chuckling. “Once you’re married, you’re going to bloody need it.”
“Shut up, you!” Keith snapped. “You’re making him nervous.”
“I’m already nervous,” Big Kev said, and Keith could see the man looked pale today. “These vows I have to say – what if I get them wrong?”
“You won’t,” Keith assured him. “The minister will keep you right. And I’ll be there beside you.”
Big Kev seemed to consider this, before pulling his wedding notebook from his pocket and opening it on the bar counter and flicking through the pages. Keith grinned to see that almost all the tasks on the young man’s list had now been ticked off. Just a week ago, Big Kev had thought he’d never get everything done and hadn’t believed Keith when he’d said it would all come together in the end. And now, the big day was almost here.
Big Kev squinted at the list in his notebook. “What about the decorations for this place? Are they sorted?”
Keith looked at Jimmy, and Jimmy pointed at Sophie, who was preparing drinks at the other end of the bar.
“I dropped off the bunting and the fairy lights while you were away in the Highlands,” he said.
Sophie nodded in confirmation. “I checked them. They’re fine. Actually, they’re quite pretty. I hadn’t realised Jimmy had an arty side.”
Jimmy scowled and Big Kev let out a laugh. “I knew you’d choose something nice, Jimmy. What about food, Keith? Is everything sorted with the food?”
“Marek’s put on a good spread, Kev, you won’t be disappointed.”
Big Kev glanced back at his list and made a few ticks with his pen. “What about the wedding cake? Do I need to pick it up tomorrow morning?”
Momentarily stunned in surprise, Keith paused in the middle of stacking clean glasses on the shelves and stared at Big Kev. He’d forgotten all about the wedding cake. How had he managed that? Searching his memory, he tried to remember what Chrissie might have told him about the cake pick-up arrangements, but nothing came to mind.
Big Kev peered at him warily, as if sensing an oversight in his wedding arrangements. Not wanting to alarm the young lad, Keith gave an emphatic nod.
“It’s all in hand. I’m dealing with the cake pick-up. Don’t worry about anything. How about another pint?”
Once he’d poured a fresh drink for Big Kev, Keith shuffled through to the back corridor for some privacy and pulled out his phone. And then stood scowling at it, wondering whether he ought to phone Chrissie or send a text message.
But a text message would look silly. He was a grown man and a customer of the cake shop. He was entitled to make a call to ask about his order.
He dialled the number, feeling hot and anxious as it rang. Just when he thought no one was going to answer, he heard Chrissie on the other end of the line.
“Chrissie’s Cakes, Chrissie speaking.”
The sound of her voice caused Keith to momentarily lose his own.
“Hello?” Chrissie said. “Anyone there?”
“Um, this is Keith. Keith McGraw.” He squeezed his eyes closed. Why was he giving his last name, as if they’d never met?
“Oh, Keith. Hi, how are you?”
“I’m fine. And you?”
“I’m fine, too.”
Awkward silence filled the line. “How’s Poppy?” Keith asked.
“She’s great, you wouldn’t know anything had happened.”
“That’s good.” More awkward silence. Keith’s mind went completely blank. It took a moment to get his wits together. “I wanted to check on the arrangements for collecting the wedding cake tomorrow. When should I pick it up?”
His question was met with silence. Keith reckoned this had to be the most uncomfortable phone conversation he’d ever had.
“Chrissie? Are you there?”
“I’m here. Listen, we’ll deliver the cake to the pub.”
We? What ‘we’ was she talking about? “It’s no bother to come and collect it.”
“It’s the cake competition tomorrow and the shop will be closed. It’s easier for us to drop it off.”
Us? Why was she talking about ‘we’ and ‘us’ when she ran the shop by herself?
It dawned on him suddenly. Talking about things this way – ‘we’ll deliver the cake’, ‘it’s easier for us to drop it off’ – separated Chrissie from the whole process and made it nothing more than a business delivering a customer order. The realisation hurt Keith in a way he hadn’t expected it to.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Keith said quietly. More silence. Keith hated every second of this. “There’s someone waiting at the bar for service, so I’d better go. Good luck tomorrow in the cake competition, Chrissie.”
“Thanks. And I hope everything goes okay tomorrow for your friend’s wedding.”
“Bye, then.”
“Bye.”
“Thanks again, Chrissie, and—”
But she’d already hung up. He stared at the phone. That was cold, hanging up while he was still talking. It was a full ten seconds before Keith stopped gawking at the phone and put it back in his pocket.
30
Chrissie winced at the phone in her hand. Had she just hung up on Keith? Yes, she had, and the realisation was excruciating.
The conversation had been over, or so she’d thought. They’d said goodbye, for God’s sake! Yet just as she’d hit the button to end the call, she’d heard Keith saying something more, but it was too late – the call was finished and Keith had been left talking to no one.
Mortification burned at Chrissie’s cheeks. What must he think? That she was cold and hard, that’s what. How could he possibly think anything else?
She should call him back and explain what had happened. And say what, exactly? Hello, Keith, sorry I hung up on you, but I came over all clumsy and silly when you phoned and ended up accidentally ending our call? He’d think she was addled. And even if he didn’t think that, they’d have to talk to each another some more if she called back and that was the last thing she wanted. This was hard enough already. She’d made a decision not to take things any further with Keith and it was a decision she planned to stick to. It would only confuse the poor man if she called now and started spouting a lot of nonsense about accidentally hanging up. She would risk leading him on and she wasn’t about to do that.
Chrissie turned back to the shop kitchen with a sigh. Two cakes sat on the nearest counter waiting to receive their finishing touches. The cake that would be entered into the wedding competition had the most work still to be done, because Chrissie had decided not to ice it until the following morning. The strategy was a risky one, but it was the only way to ensure the soft, delicate icing would look its best, and so the sponge cakes remained bare, covered only in protective cloths to stop them drying up.
The cake for Keith’s friend’s wedding, on the other hand, was almost completely finished – iced and decorated and waiting only for some pale-pink ribbon to be put in place around the tiers. Chrissie was pleased with how well the cake had turned out. It was simple and elegant and incredibly pretty, and she felt sure the bride and groom would love it.
And she hoped that Keith would love it, too, and feel she’d provided something his friend would enjoy on his big day. A little stab of regret hit home as she realised she’d probably never know what Keith thought of the cake. Although it was cowardly, she didn’t plan on seeing him tomorrow when she delivered the cake to the pub. In fact, she wouldn’t be delivering the cake to the pub at all. Instead, she’d rope Alison in to do it for her.
She couldn’t face seeing Keith. It would hurt too much. If that made her a pathetic coward, so be it.
Chrissie pushed the thoughts away and turned her gaze to the far counter, where yet another cake sat waiting for decoration. This one was scheduled for collection on Wednesday and was a plain vanilla sponge that would be decorated w
ith a football theme for a child’s birthday party. The sugar decorations were already prepared and waiting to be assembled, and when Chrissie checked the clock, she wondered if she ought to start putting it together now to avoid a mad rush tomorrow afternoon once the cake competition was over. This was a busy week filled with non-stop orders, and the cake competition would take up a great chunk of her time. Getting ahead was never a bad thing and…
“Hello? Chrissie, are you here?”
Chrissie turned to see Gregor coming through from the front shop. His eyes widened when he saw the finished wedding cake on the counter, along with the array of delicate sugar roses she’d prepared for the competition cake.
“Wow, these are nice!” Gregor said and grinned, reaching out to touch one of the rose decorations.
“Don’t touch it!” Chrissie shouted, leaping forward to protect her creations.
“Sorry!” he said, pulling his hand back and laughing nervously.
“You have a bad track record when it comes to disaster and calamity, Gregor. Please don’t bring mayhem to my cakes.”
“You’re right,” he said, taking a step back and knocking his elbow against a stack of cake tins and sending them crashing to the floor. “Oops, sorry.”
“For God’s sake,” Chrissie muttered as Gregor retrieved the tins. “Put them in the sink, I’ll have to wash them now they’ve been on the floor.”
Gregor scuttled to the sink with the tins.
“I need to talk to you, but you’ve been working every hour since Poppy came home from the hospital,” Chrissie said carefully. “I know it’s none of my business, but do you really think it’s such a good idea to be working non-stop given how upset Alison’s been?”
Gregor turned from the sink and held up his hands. “There’s a good reason. In fact, that’s why I’m here.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “Any chance you could close the shop early today? There’s something I want to show you.”
Chrissie glanced at the cake she’d been about to start decorating with the football-themed sugar icing she’d made. But it really wouldn’t take long to assemble, and having a proper conversation with Gregor was more important than decorating a birthday cake.
