A Merry Little Christmas (26 page)

‘Do you want to see her?’ asked Kathleen gently.

Cat nodded mutely.

‘I’ll stay here, with the kids,’ said Noel. ‘Give you some time.’

Cat kissed him and followed Kathleen to a side ward, where Louise’s body lay on a bed. She looked cosy and comfortable in her best nightie, for all the world as if she had just fallen asleep. But her face was pale, and had a slightly waxen look. And her hands, when Cat touched them, were cold. She looked so frail and small.

‘I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything,’ said Kathleen, drawing the door shut behind her.

Cat approached the bed, and felt her legs buckle as she sat down next to Louise and held her hand. She let out a howl of anguish. Her mother was dead. It was over. She was never going to see her again. Cat had never felt so alone or lost.

A while later, there was a tentative knock at the door, and Mel appeared.

‘Dad wanted to see if you were okay,’ she said.

‘Oh, Mel,’ said Cat, tears streaming down her face, as her daughter came over to hug her. She felt a strange sense of peace at the three of them being together, it felt so natural and right.

‘Sorry,’ Cat said, wiping away her tears. ‘Are you okay? Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me?’

‘No, Mum,’ said Mel. ‘It doesn’t matter. It can wait.’

FACEBOOK status Worst day ever )-: RIP Mad Gran

Kaz:
Oh no. Babe. So sorry.

Ellie:
Sad news)-
:

Jake:
Feel bad for you babe.

Jen17:
Oh Mel. That sucks.

Gary:
Sorry for your loss.

Adam:
Happened to me last Christmas. Crap isn’t it?

Ellie:
Anything we can do?

Mel:
Thanks everyone.

Kaz:
You ok?

Mel:
Can’t stop crying. BBM ME. PRIVATE CHAT NOW.

Teenage Kicks

Oh God. The worst thing ever has happened.

No – two worst things. It’s official. I’m pregnant. I found out yesterday. I don’t know what to do.

And then something even worse.

Mad Gran died this morning.

I can’t take it in. She’s always been there. I thought she’d go on forever.

When we were little we used to call her Granny Dreamboat because she was our favourite granny. Then she went all mad and forgetful and I was sad. But she was still
there
. And she listened to me. And it was like she understood. You know. I even told her about worrying I was pregnant.

It sounds awful, but it was easy talking to Mad Gran, she never remembered anything, but she never judged me either. I’m going to miss her.

I was going to tell Mum. But how can I now? She’s so upset about Mad Gran and I know she’s going to be upset about this too.

Why have I stuffed everything up?

‘So, first day of big school,’ said Gabriel with forced cheerfulness. Marianne could see what it was costing him. Steven, nervous in his new school uniform, two sizes too big for him, had barely eaten, despite Marianne’s pleading.

‘You’ll be hungry by the end of the day,’ she said.

Steven just shrugged and said, ‘Can I go and get ready now?’

‘Of course you can,’ said Gabriel, and they watched him spring from the table like a race horse out of the stalls.

‘He can’t wait to leave, can he?’ said Gabriel gloomily.

‘Better that he’s excited and positive,’ said Marianne. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be missing us before too long, and it’s not as if he’s on the other side of the planet.’

‘It’s far enough away,’ said Gabriel with a sigh. ‘God I’m going to miss him.’

‘I know,’ said Marianne, touching his arm, ‘but we’ll get used to him not being around. And he will enjoy it …’

‘You’re right,’ said Gabriel. ‘I just wish he could go there and still be with us.’

‘Well, at least we’ll have the twins to keep us on our toes for a few years yet,’ smiled Marianne. ‘Now come on, we need to get a move on.’

But even she felt a pang, as they watched Steven going round the house saying goodbye to things, and having one last run around the yard with Patch.

The car was jam-packed with Steven’s things. Amazing that an eleven-year-old boy could have so much junk. He had two suitcases, a holdall carrying his football kit, several bags jammed with an indeterminable number of electronic toys, plus one or two books, and sweetly, his favourite teddy. Marianne hoped no one would tease him for including that. By the time they’d squeezed in with the twins and the dog, whom Steven had insisted should accompany them, there was very little room, and Gabriel grumped his way up the A49, claiming not to be able to see a thing in the background.

To both Marianne and Gabriel’s surprise, Eve and Darren had opted not to come and see Steven on his first day, both of them having important business meetings to attend to. Eve had airily promised to make it up to Steven by taking him out to lunch at the weekend, and Marianne was hoping this wasn’t a sign of what was to come. It would be infuriating if, after having made so much fuss to get Steven into the school, Eve didn’t in the end make the effort to come and see him there.

Thanks to Steven’s anxious insistence that they shouldn’t be late, they arrived in plenty of time. They were greeted by friendly members of staff, in the imposing entrance to Middleminster’s main hall.

‘Hello, I’m Mr Andrews, Head of Boarding,’ said a friendly young man, who was accompanied by his wife and baby. ‘This is my wife, Lindy, and our baby, Sam. And you are?’

‘Steven North,’ said Steven shyly.

‘Well, Steven, I’m sure you’re going to have a great time here,’ said Mr Andrews. ‘Josh here will show you to your room and your mum and dad can get you settled in.’

They followed Josh, a lively fourteen-year-old who took them up a vast staircase and through sweeping corridors to the boarding area, chatting nineteen to the dozen, and pointing out points of interest such as the chapel and the haunted corridor where a grey lady apparently walked at night.

‘You’ll love it here, Steven,’ he said as left them in Steven’s room. ‘When you’ve finished unpacking, you’ll need to go back down to the main hall. In the meantime, if you need anything, just let me know.’

‘Thanks,’ said Steven, clearly in awe of the older boy, who seemed so at home in this alien world. He looked slightly overwhelmed, and Marianne wondered if he was having a little wobble.

‘That sounds promising. I bet he’s right and you’ll have a lot of fun,’ said Gabriel encouragingly. Marianne could have hugged him for being so enthusiastic.

‘And it’s a lot better than the boarding schools you read about in books,’ said Marianne with a grin. The room which Steven was to share with three other boys, was cosy and modern, and felt warm and welcoming. Steven’s roommates hadn’t arrived yet, so they helped Steven unpack and then took him back to the hall where as instructed, all the new intake were being gathered together.

‘Well, this is it,’ said Gabriel, with a forced heartiness. ‘We’ll come and see you on Friday.’

‘And if you need us for anything at all, you remember to ring, okay?’ said Marianne.

‘Okay,’ said Steven. He was starting to look a little panicky as everyone else seemed to have found someone to chat to.

It was time they went. Gabriel ruffled his hair and then Steven threw his arms around his dad and gave him a big hug.

‘What if I don’t have any friends?’ he whispered.

‘Now you just listen to me,’ said Gabriel firmly. ‘It’s not going to be the way it was. You’re here with people who are like you and want to sing. You will be fine. Besides, think of all that sport you’re going to play.’

He hugged his son tight, and stepped away. Marianne gave Steven a swift kiss, and was rewarded with a huge and deeply gratifying hug.

‘It’s a bit mad isn’t it?’ A small boy with freckles and curly red hair came sidling up to Steven. ‘I don’t know anyone else here, do you?’

‘No,’ said Steven.

‘I’m Tommy Griffiths,’ said the boy. ‘Shall we stick together?’

‘Yeah, that would be cool,’ said Steven with evident relief.

‘You see?’ said Gabriel. ‘You’re going to have plenty of mates before long.’

‘You will ring me tonight, won’t you?’ Steven said.

‘Of course we will,’ assured Gabriel, and then turned away. Marianne saw the tears and knew he was trying to prevent Steven from seeing them, so she said brightly, ‘It will be Friday before you know it, and we’ll be coming to get you.’

‘Time to go,’ said Gabriel, giving his son one last hug. Steven kissed the twins, and then after one last goodbye, they all walked back to the car.

‘You okay?’ said Marianne, reaching over to Gabriel as they got in the car.

‘Just about,’ said Gabriel. ‘But it’s going to take a lot of getting used to.’

It was already busy in the café when Pippa pushed the door open. She found Cat sitting in a corner staring blankly at a cup of coffee, seemingly oblivious to the chatter of young mums with buggies and pensioners around her. Poor, poor thing. Pippa had rung Cat as soon as she’d heard the bad news. She could only imagine how Cat was feeling.

She came over and gave Cat a big hug.

‘How are you, hon?’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Cat. ‘I can’t stop crying. I’m a totally soggy mess. Noel must be getting really fed up with me.’

‘I’m sure he isn’t,’ said Pippa. She looked around the café. There seemed to be several women having coffee with their mums this morning. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Is this too public for you? We could always go back to mine.’

‘No it’s okay,’ said Cat with a wan smile. ‘I can’t stand being at home at the moment. I feel like all four walls are closing in on me. I’ll probably go for a walk in the hills after this, just to clear my mind a bit.’

‘I prescribe chocolate and cake,’ said Pippa, ‘and put your purse away. I’m paying.’

She went up to the counter, where Vera was serving a very yummy mummy the skinniest of skinny lattes.

‘What can I do for you today, Pippa?’ she said.

‘Two hot chocolates, with whipped cream and two of those blueberry muffins, which I know first-hand are delicious,’ said Pippa.

‘Are you with Cat?’ said Vera. ‘I heard about her mum. What a rotten thing. I didn’t like to say anything when she came in, but tell her Albert and me are thinking of her.’

‘I will,’ said Pippa. ‘Thanks.’

She got back to the table, and passed the message on.

‘Oh that’s really sweet of her,’ said Cat. ‘Now I feel all teary again. It’s so nice living here. In London no one in my local caff would have even known my name.’

She wiped the tears away.

‘It’s so stupid,’ she said. ‘It’s not as though Mum was even like herself over the last few years. And yet I feel so bereft.’

‘It’s not stupid,’ said Pippa. ‘It’s natural. This is your mum we’re talking about. Of course you’re going to feel it. When’s the funeral?’

‘We’re going to the undertaker’s tomorrow, to sort out a date,’ said Cat, looking sombre. ‘I’m dreading it.’

‘How are the kids?’ Pippa asked. ‘It must be hard on them, losing their gran.’

‘It is,’ said Cat. ‘With James it’s hard to tell; all I get is monosyllabic grunting. But Mel’s taken it very badly, and. Paige is being terribly melodramatic and weeping at the drop of a hat. Ruby’s cried a bit, but I’m not quite sure she gets it.’

‘It’s bound to take time,’ said Pippa.

‘I know,’ said Cat. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine in the end. And at least Mum isn’t suffering anymore.’

She sat up straighter, clearly making an effort to pull herself together.

‘Anyway, enough of my gloom and doom. How are things with you?’

Taking her cue from Cat, Pippa turned her conversation towards the campaign.

‘Sorry,’ said Cat looking stricken. ‘I haven’t been much help lately.’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Pippa. ‘I’ve been speaking a lot to a guy called Richard La Fontaine, who Michael Nicholas put me in touch with. He works for a private investment firm but says they have a strong ethical strand and they think the Sunshine Trust is a good fit for their business. He’s looking into ways he can invest at the moment.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ said Cat.

‘It’s a great help,’ said Pippa, ‘but it’s only a start. So I’ve organised a demonstration for next week, and my petition’s up to over 10,000 signatures.’

‘That’s good going,’ said Cat. ‘Well done.’

‘It’s a good distraction, frankly,’ said Pippa. ‘And you know me, I like to keep busy.’

‘Things at home no better, then?’ said Cat with sympathy.

While not going into too much detail, Pippa had let slip that things weren’t that fabulous at the moment.

‘Better, I think,’ said Pippa cautiously. ‘We had a great family day out the other week, and it felt like old times. The doctor did say it would take a long time. We just have to be patient. I’m pleased today, I’ve actually managed to get Dan out of the house, and he’s helping out in the hay barn.’

‘Well that’s something,’ said Cat. ‘You must be exhausted, after all the stuff you’ve been through. I found it tiring looking after Mum, and she wasn’t even living with me. I don’t know how you do it, and stay so calm.’

‘I’m not really sure I am that calm,’ said Pippa. ‘I keep worrying about what happens if the campaign fails and Lucy loses her respite. Or what if Dan never gets any better than this …’

‘Shame you can’t get away for a bit,’ said Cat.

‘Not a chance,’ said Pippa.

‘Time for another girlie night out instead?’ said Cat. ‘I know Marianne’s feeling a bit low now Steven’s started school.’

‘Now that,’ said Pippa, ‘is an excellent idea.’

Cat and Noel returned from the funeral directors feeling a bit shell-shocked. There had been so many things to consider, from the type of coffin they wanted (Cat had been tempted to go for bright pink, a colour Louise had had a penchant for in her later years, but thought better of it), to the headstone, which couldn’t actually be put up for six months until the earth settled on the grave. Who knew that?