A Gift to You (5 page)

‘Say “and”, Keith, not “an’ ”,’ Izzy corrected automatically, hoping that Jason Pierce’s nose was well and truly bloodied. Little brat! Since the
Pierces had moved in next door, six months ago, there had been nothing but fights with the youngsters in the cul-de-sac. It wasn’t really Jason’s fault; it was that obnoxious father of
his, Owen. Owen Pierce was the most bigheaded, boastful, superior individual Izzy had ever had the misfortune to encounter.

Owen was a tax consultant, who had begun to make good money. On the way up, he revelled in his yuppie lifestyle. He and his wife Nicole and their two children, Jason and Diana, had moved in
mid-summer, and had proceeded to make themselves thoroughly unpopular with their neighbours.

At first, the ten other families in the cul-de-sac had welcomed them and been friendly and chatty, but gradually Owen’s thoroughly bumptious ways had begun to grate. It was his
hail-fellow-well-met ‘I’m a tax consultant. What do you do for a living?’ carry-on that got under people’s skin. Owen had the biggest satellite dish, the biggest barbecue
pit, the most expensive shrubs and the flashiest car. He loved boasting and always made sure that when he was telling Izzy or Bill something, the rest of the neighbours could hear as well. Izzy
normally did not make snap judgments about people, but she knew very soon after she met him that he was someone she couldn’t stand.

Nicole had invited Izzy in for a cup of coffee about a month after they had moved in. Nicole, with her heavily made-up face and her perfectly manicured nails, had made sure to let Izzy know that
she had a woman who came in to clean twice a week. She had timed the coffee invite with the arrival of the woman who did her ironing. Nicole’s daughter, Diana, was the same age as Jessica and
as they sat drinking their freshly ground coffee, the other woman paused in their conversation and said meditatively, ‘I wonder if I have anything I could give you for Jessica. She and Diana
are the same age and Diana has
so
many clothes. She gets so many presents. I’ve got lots of stuff that she’s never worn.’

Izzy was flabbergasted. She’d only met the woman twice, for heaven’s sake, and here she was offering her clothes for Jessica. Did she think the Reynolds were on their uppers and
needed charity, just because Bill was unemployed? Izzy had assured her new next-door neighbour that Jessica had
plenty
of clothes and hastily finished her coffee and made her escape. Even
if Jessica had to go around in
rags
, she wouldn’t accept such impertinent help from the superior Pierces.

You weren’t very neighbourly
, she accused herself silently, glad to get back to the comfort of her own kitchen Was she being so prickly because her pride was hurting and she
didn’t want to seem like the poor man at his better’s table? If Bill had been working and she’d been free of all her financial worries would she have handled Owen and Nicole
differently and felt more gracious towards them? Was she, in fact, just indulging in a fit of extremely large sour grapes?

‘Definitely not. Most definitely not, Izzy!’ Jill, her other next-door neighbour, retorted emphatically when Izzy, shame-faced, put this scenario to her one day when they were
waiting at the school gates to collect their children.

‘He’s a pushy shagger!’ Jill exclaimed irritably, ‘and she’s a stuck-up madam with notions about herself.’

Izzy had laughed and didn’t feel so bad knowing that it wasn’t just her straightened circumstances and envy of her neighbours that had put her off Owen, Nicole and their
offspring.

‘Mammy, can we go to Disneyland sometime?’ Keith’s big blue eyes stared up into hers, wide and innocent, as blue as two cornflowers, as he shovelled the last of his macaroni
cheese into his mouth.

‘Well . . . um . . . some day, please God, we’ll get to Disneyland. We’ll just have to say a prayer that Daddy gets a job soon.’ She smiled down at her son, who had gone
trotting off, saying, ‘Dear Holy God, please let my daddy get a job soon so he can bring us to Disneyland before scummy Jason Pierce goes.’

As Izzy cleared away the dirty dishes, she thought ruefully that it wasn’t a prayer that was needed to get them to Disneyland . . . it was a miracle.

She walked into the sitting room and gave a little shiver. The house was
so
cold. She felt thoroughly resentful and frustrated that she could no longer just flick a switch and have
instant heat. Even though they had tried to conserve oil by turning on the heat later in the evenings, because winter had come early they had run out of that precious dark liquid a week ago. Since
then, Izzy had been lighting the fire and, because they were economising on fuel, the back boiler was never hot enough to give off more than lukewarm heat from the radiators. Because of Christmas
and all its expenses, they wouldn’t be able to afford oil until well into the New Year. If even then.

I’m sick of this
, Izzy thought bitterly as she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the lowering sky that threatened snow. Snow! That was all they needed
to make life even more miserable. Come the New Year, she might go looking for a part-time job that would enable her to be there when the children came home from school. She’d been a clerical
officer when she had married Bill. Maybe she should have stayed working instead of taking her lump sum. Then they wouldn’t be so hard hit now. If she got a part-time job, though, it could
affect Bill’s means-tested dole money. There was no point in her working if it meant a reduction in his income, Izzy thought glumly, straightening the folds in her lace curtains. She had
washed them yesterday and they were pristine. Most of the other houses in the cul-de-sac had roller blinds, net curtains being rather old fashioned, but Izzy had always liked ‘proper
curtains’, as her grandmother called them. She hated the idea of people being able to see through her front window. Her home was her haven, not a showpiece for the neighbours to view every
time they walked by.

Owen, whose latest foible was practising his putting shots on the front lawn, was always trying to gawk in the window and it gave Izzy no small satisfaction to know that he couldn’t see
in. Her curtains were her protection from his prying eyes.

He was out now, strimming the edge of the grass, despite the fact that it was a bitterly cold winter’s day. She grinned as the catgut broke and flew across the lawn. She knew she was being
petty but she didn’t care. He just got on her nerves. She had got so fed up of him strolling in front of her windows and playing rugby with Jason on the front lawn that she had asked her
brother, a horticulturist, what she could put down to separate the gardens and keep her unwanted neighbour out. A large thorny orange-berried pyracantha trained along a white wooden picket fence
now formed a border between numbers 7 and 8 Maple Wood Drive, curtailing Owen and Jason’s sporting activities somewhat.

Jason was driving poor old Keith around the twist about the new computer he was getting for Christmas. It was going to be ‘the best computer in the world’, with better games than the
old Dell one that Keith had, according to Jason. Every mother in the cul-de-sac could cheerfully have wrung Jason Pierce’s neck, as their own envious offspring demanded ‘a best
computer’ as well.

Bill and Izzy had been arguing that morning about what to buy the children for Christmas. Bill, as sick of penny-pinching as she was, wanted to borrow a couple of hundred quid from the credit
union to splash out on Christmas, and to hell with it. Izzy had argued that they needed oil. The house insurance was coming up and all of the children needed new shoes. If there was one thing Izzy
was very particular about, it was about getting good shoes for her children and nowadays a pair of decent shoes for a three-year-old could cost the guts of fifty euros. Paying out fifty euros each
for the three of them would leave her fairly skint.

‘We can’t afford it and that’s that,’ Izzy asserted. Bill’s face darkened with impotent fury.

‘Don’t rub it in, for Christ’s sake! I know we can’t, I just want to give the kids a decent Christmas. Is that too much to want?’ he snarled. A red mist descended
in front of Izzy’s eyes. It wasn’t
her
fault that they had no money. She was only trying to keep them out of debt.

‘Listen, mister, you can do what you damn well like. I was only trying to help. Do you think
I
don’t want to give them a good Christmas? I’m trying to do my best for
all of us and it’s not easy. So don’t you take it out on me, Bill. It’s not my fault you’re unemployed. It’s not me who can’t get a job.’ Izzy was so angry
her voice was shaking as months of suppressed rage, fear and frustration fuelled her outburst.

‘God, you really know how to put the boot in, don’t you?’ Bill raged. ‘You should have married someone like bloody Superdad over there, not a loser like me.’ With
that, he’d picked up his anorak and strode out of the front door, slamming it hard behind him. Sick at heart, Izzy sat down at the kitchen table, put her head in her hands and bawled her eyes
out. She had never felt so sorry for herself in her life. What had she done to deserve this? she sniffled. After a good twenty minutes of alternate cursing and sobbing, she felt somewhat better. A
good cry was just the thing sometimes; it helped to get it all out of your system. Fortunately, the children had spent the previous night on a sleepover with their cousins so they hadn’t
witnessed the row. She didn’t want them being upset as well.

It was almost 3 p.m., Izzy noted, and still no sign of Bill. She wondered what he was doing. It had got even darker outside, the clouds so low they seemed almost to touch the rooftops. The
frost, which hadn’t thawed all day, cast a silvery sheen to the lawns, the flaming orange of the pyracantha berries a startling contrast. The stark silhouettes of bare-branched trees
encircled the cul-de-sac protectively; a robin nestled in the shelter of an evergreen shrub. Normally Izzy would have enjoyed the picturesque, wintry scene outside her big window but today it just
seemed bleak and cold and again she shivered.

‘To hell with it,’ she muttered crossly, and, with a determined set to her jaw, she walked over to the fire and struck a match, watching with pleasure as the flames caught the
firelighters and roared up the chimney, the kindling flaming, spitting and sparking and scenting the room with the freshness of pine. The glow of the orange-yellow flames casting their shadows on
the walls soothed Izzy. She sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire and pulled two large carrier bags overflowing with presents, in front of her. This was the ideal time to sort out the
Christmas present situation. It was something she had been putting off all day, but she might as well do it while Bill and the kids were out of the house. If she were quick and organized,
she’d have her task complete before he was home. Then her husband wouldn’t have the added indignity of seeing her selecting presents they had received last year, to be given to their
relatives this year. If only she could remember who had given her what. It would be a disaster to return a gift to someone who had given it to them in the first place.

Izzy gave a wry smile as she unloaded the bags on to the floor. The only other time in her life when she had had to recycle presents was that first year she had moved into a flat with her two
best friends and they had all been practically penniless. It had been fun then though, not like this.

She eyed the assorted collection surrounding her. Tablemats, they could go to Aunt Sadie. A basket of Body Shop soaps and shampoos. Now who had given her them? She cast her mind back, was it
Stella? No, it was Rita, her sister-in-law. Well, Stella could have the Body Shop basket and Rita could have the lovely red angora scarf that her godmother had given her. Izzy fingered the scarf,
enjoying the feel of the soft luxurious wool between her fingers. It would have been nice to have been able to wear it herself, she thought regretfully, but needs must and Rita would like it.

She wanted to give her sister-in-law a nice present. Rita was very good to them, as indeed were all of their families. That was why Izzy wanted to give them presents at Christmas. And she wanted
to show that she and Bill were not completely on their uppers.

Foolish pride, she thought ruefully. They
were
on their uppers. This year, she decided, she would keep a list of who gave what, so that next Christmas if Bill were still unemployed, it
would be easier for her to match up presents. If people saw her this minute, no doubt they would think she was dreadfully mean, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

She spent a peaceful hour sitting in the fire’s glow sorting out the presents and wrapping them. She had just stood up and was trying to get rid of the pins and needles in her feet when
she saw Bill marching into the cul-de-sac. He was lugging the biggest, bushiest Christmas tree she had ever seen. A broad grin creased her face. Bill was a sucker for Christmas trees. The bigger
and bushier the better.

She flung open the front door as her husband struggled up the path with his load. Panting, he stood looking at her. ‘I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean it.’ Their eyes met
and a flicker of happiness ignited briefly. ‘You’re the best wife a man could have and I know I’m dead lucky.’

‘Oh, Bill, it’s all right, I didn’t mean what I said either.’ Izzy, happy that their tiff was over, flung her arms around him, ignoring the prickly tree and was rewarded
with a one-armed bear hug. ‘It’s brilliant, where did you get it?’ She eyed the tree admiringly.

‘Up near the Castle from a fella on a lorry, much cheaper than that lot outside SuperValu. Look at the width of it and look at the fullness up top and the symmetry is almost
perfect.’ Bill, who was a connoisseur of Christmas trees, enthused about his find. ‘It’s the best ever.’

‘You say that every year.’ Izzy laughed. ‘Come on in. I have the fire lighting. It was cold, so I lit it early to make the place warm for when the kids get home,’ she
added a little defensively.

‘You did right, Izzy, it’s bloody freezing out today,’ Bill declared stoutly, and they smiled at each other. ‘Hey, what do you think if I rang Rita and asked her to keep
the kids for another hour or two and we decorated the tree for them as a surprise?’