A Merry Little Christmas (29 page)

‘Mum, is that you?’ Nathan peered over the hayloft. He looked pale and frightened, his dark hair even more messed up than usual. George followed quickly behind, covered in straw, and they flew down the ladder and fell into her arms, talking nineteen to the dozen.

‘Dad went ballistic because the TV remote didn’t work, then he told Nate off when he tried to help. So I said that wasn’t fair, and then he really shouted at us,’ said George.

‘It was horrible,’ said Nathan, ‘he told us to get out or else. I thought he was going to hit us, so we ran off and hid.’

‘Is Dad going to be okay?’ said George, and she could see the tear streaks he’d tried to wipe away from his face. ‘He really frightened me.’

‘Oh boys,’ said Pippa, holding them close and kissing them hard. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’ She could have lied she supposed, but what was the point? The boys could see things were as bad as they could possibly be. Lying to them would mean they couldn’t trust her, and they needed to be able to right now. She crouched down and looked them both in the eyes. ‘The thing is, Daddy’s really not well. You must understand this isn’t his fault, none of it. He doesn’t want to frighten you, he just can’t help it.’

She kissed and hugged them both again.

‘Now go inside, and get yourselves and Lucy ice cream. I’m going to find Dad and sort this out once and for all.’

It didn’t take long to find Dan, because she knew exactly where he’d be. He was sitting at the edge of their meadow, staring at the stream. It was the place they’d picnicked all of their married lives, the place where, fifteen years ago, he’d asked her to marry him. And she’d said yes, her knight in shining armour. The one person she’d known she could always rely on. And now she could rely on him no longer.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi,’ Dan turned his face away from her. She went and sat down next to him.

‘You know we can’t go on like this, don’t you?’ she said, reaching over to touch his hand.

‘I know,’ Dan croaked, turning to face her, his face wet with tears.

‘You have to understand,’ said Pippa. ‘The children come first. They have to.’

‘I know,’ said Dan again.

‘Today …’

‘I could have hurt the boys,’ whispered Dan. ‘I didn’t want to, but I could have. It’s this black rage. It comes from nowhere and I can’t control it.’

‘You need help,’ said Pippa. ‘And I can’t give you that help and manage the children, especially Lucy.’

‘Oh Pippa, what’s happened to us?’ said Dan.

‘I don’t know,’ said Pippa sadly, and held his hands. For the first time, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

‘We’re not going to get through this, are we?’ Dan looked exhausted and wrung out.

‘I don’t know…’ replied Pippa helplessly.

‘I’ll move back in with Mum and Dad,’ said Dan.

‘That seems best,’ said Pippa. She pulled him close to her, wanting him to stay, knowing she had to let him go, feeling her heart being wrenched in two.

It wasn’t going to get better. Not this time. Not ever.

FACEBOOK status So fucked

Jake:
So it’s true then?

Jen17:
??

Ellie:
You ok?

Nick:
Slag

Kaz:
Oh so grown up Nick. Leave her alone

Mel:
It’s okay Kaz. Piss off Nick. You know fuck all about it.

Nick:
Oh get over yourself.

Mel:
You get over yourself.

Nick:
You’re still a fat pregnant slag.

Mel:
OK, blocking you.

Kaz:
You okay?

Mel:
Not really.

Teenage Kicks

So now it’s official. EVERYONE knows. I’ve had a lot of crap on FB and BBM, but they can go screw themselves. I know I’m not a slag. Even if the Boy thinks I am. It was only ever him. I know that even if no one else does.

Best Mate’s been brilliant. She’s letting me crash at hers. I can’t face being home.

Dad came round and begged me to come back for Mad Gran’s funeral. He
cried
. Said they both missed me.

So I went and it was sad, and I cried and cried. And it was okay with Mum for a bit. But then I remembered the stuff she’d said, so I knew I couldn’t stay there.

So now I’m in limbo. At Best Mate’s house. Going to school, studying for AS levels, like
they’re
going to matter.

Half the year aren’t talking to me. The teachers keep on at me to go to counselling, but I don’t go.

And the Boy is badmouthing me. Telling everyone that I’ve been putting it out there. That
the baby’s not his. Why is he being like this? I
thought he loved me.

I went to see him and he laughed at me. I guess it really is over.

I went to see one of Mum’s mates after. She told me I should go home.

Maybe I should.

I feel so scared and alone.

I just don’t know what to do.

Pippa was giving another interview on phone to the papers, this time talking about the effects that government spending cuts were having on local disability services. There were so many people suffering, so many people worse off than her. Knowing she was helping them was the only way she kept going. She blinked back tears as the interview ended and she put the phone down and stared at the kitchen, once the heart and soul of her home. She and Dan had spent so much time in this kitchen together, sharing tea and sympathy, love and laughter. The kitchen hadn’t changed: still with the familiar range, the cosiness, the knick-knacks on the shelves. But it all seemed so empty without Dan.

Pippa had got used to him being around all the time since his accident, and even before that he’d been in and out all day long. Now she barely saw him. At least he was back working on the farm, which was something, but he did his best to avoid her, spending more time with Gabriel and Marianne than he did at home. She knew from Dan’s mum that he had finally started therapy, and she was happy to drop the children with him, knowing his mum was there to supervise.

The boys had been reluctant to go at first, but they missed their dad too, and seeing him cry and break down in front of them had persuaded them to give him another chance. It broke Pippa’s heart that it had come to this; her loving, caring Dan, and his own children were afraid of him. Their once-happy family was broken and fractured. She didn’t know if it would ever be mended again.

This was no good.

‘Pull yourself together, Pippa,’ she said. ‘Focus.’

She started to look at the seating arrangements for the charity ball. Cat had been able to persuade Antoine Lavière to be the compere for the charity auction, and had also been generous with prizes, giving away signed copies of her latest book and DVD, and offering another prize of a day on set with her for her next series, whatever that was.

Marianne, in the meantime, had reluctantly joined forces with Diana Carew and they’d both been busy working on all the local businesses and had come up with two weekend retreats at a couple of local hotels, a spa day for two and a year’s free membership at a local gym. Not only that, she’d managed to persuade Eve’s rich boyfriend Darren to use some of the charity funds in his office to pay for the champagne reception.

In the blind charity auction, Vera and Albert had managed to get hold of a signed copy of the England rugby team’s photo and a signed Team GB flag for sporting fans, along with several bottles of very decent and old malt whisky from the firm Albert’s brother worked in, a day racing at Silverstone, and some rather lovely prints from a local artist, Ivy Theakston. They were apparently still ‘working on a few more sources’, as Vera earnestly put it. The tables had nearly all sold now and it was beginning to look like a fun evening. As promised, Michael Nicholas’ band, The Dark Angels, were going to play on the night. Pippa had enjoyed hearing them play at the Hopesay Arms. They’d certainly make the evening go with a swing.

And she’d had a couple of really useful meetings with Richard La Fontaine, the businessman Michael had introduced her to, who was friendly and interested and seemed genuinely willing to help. She was hoping that he could persuade his company to look at seriously investing in the Sunshine Trust, as it was something he felt very strongly about.

‘I have a special needs daughter too,’ he had told her on their first meeting at Michael’s bar, where he’d insisted on paying for lunch. ‘I know how tough it is.’

He hadn’t volunteered any more information, but she’d felt an immediate connection with him, and found herself looking forward to their next meeting. He was like a breath of fresh air, breathing new life into her world, and she found herself momentarily fantasising about him. She felt guilty for thinking about another man, with Dan away from home, but it was nice to fantasise about living a different kind of existence, with someone else, and without the daily drudgery and hardship of her actual life. A tear spilt down her cheek. How could she think like that? She scolded herself. She loved Lucy and the boys. She still loved Dan. She would always love Dan. But sometimes she wished beyond anything for her life to be very different.

‘Hey Mazza!’ Marianne laughed as she opened the door and her irrepressible younger brother bounced in, flinging his arms around her. He was the only person who had ever called her that. En route with Marcus to the Lake District, he’d suddenly called up and said they were passing and were she and Gabriel free? As it happened, it was a weekend that Steven was spending with Eve and Gabriel was busy tupping the ewes so he wasn’t going to be around much. Marianne had seen precious little of her brother since coming up to Hope Christmas four years ago, so she was delighted to see him now.

‘Come on in,’ she said. ‘Look Daisy, Harry; here are Uncle Matt and Uncle Marcus come to see us. And, when you’re older I’ll explain why you have two uncles.’

‘Oi, less of that, sis,’ said Matt, playfully punching her.

‘Sorry, couldn’t resist,’ said Marianne.

The twins, who had just turned two, were still quite shy of strangers, so peered at their two strange uncles from between their mother’s legs.

‘Crikey, they’ve grown,’ said Matt.

‘Yeah, well, if you will only deign to visit once in a blue moon,’ said Marianne, ‘it’s not like I haven’t asked you before.’

‘You know I’m busy,’ pleaded her brother. ‘Anyway, you’re not much better. You’ve not been to London since Christmas.’

‘True,’ said Marianne, ‘but you could have come on holiday with us. We did invite you.’

‘And have Mum asking me every five minutes when I’m getting married? Yeah, right.’

‘You could always tell her you
are
getting married,’ said Marianne mischievously.

‘Don’t,’ shuddered Matt. ‘We’ve just been through all that with Marcus’ family. I’m not sure I could
ever
cope with telling Mum.’

Marianne laughed. ‘So you’re not going to join us for Christmas then? We’re having open house if you’re interested.’

‘Hmm, maybe we’ll have a rain check on that,’ said Matt. Although Marcus said wistfully, ‘I’ve always fancied Christmas in the country. Does it ever snow?’

‘Quite often,’ said Marianne. ‘And it is lovely up here. There’s a nativity on Christmas Eve at the chapel in the local manor house, organised by my good self, and there’s a tree in the square and carols at midnight. I love it.’

‘It sounds like heaven,’ said Marcus. ‘You know we
could
always stay in a local hotel, so that things don’t get awkward. What do you think, Matt?’

‘Oh go on,’ said Marianne, ‘we’d love to have you.’

‘Okay,’ said Matt, after Marcus had threatened to leave him if they didn’t come, ‘you’re on.’

‘Brill,’ said Marianne. ‘You won’t regret it.’

‘Regret what?’ said Gabriel, who’d just come in from work.

‘Christmas here,’ said Marianne. ‘Matt and Marcus are going to come too, isn’t that nice?’

‘Oh, right,’ said Gabriel. ‘So, hang on, that’s you, me, your mum and dad, the twins, Steven, my mum and dad, and now these two. That’s eleven. And wasn’t your Auntie Mags coming too? Do you think you can cope with that many?’

‘Auntie Mags had other arrangements, thankfully,’ said Marianne, ‘but really I don’t mind how many people come. It’s our first proper Christmas in our family home, and I want it to be perfect.’

Cat was also deeply into Christmas, but not planning her own. She was caught up in a whirl of PR to publicise both the book and TV programme of
Cat’s Country Christmas
, now available at all good bookshops. The online recipes she’d released for Christmas cake and pudding were going down a storm apparently. There had been so much buzz about this book, as well as more interest in James, who’d finally produced (or rather Cat had produced for him)
Top Tips for Hungry Teens 2
, that she was run off her feet writing articles, doing blog posts, and even being whisked down to London for the odd interview. It was so manic, Cat had had relatively little time to think about anything; not about Mum, or Mel, or the baby she herself had lost, which she supposed was a good thing. If she thought too much about things, Cat reflected, she might just snap in two.

Everyone else seemed to be dealing with Mel’s pregnancy so much better than her. Noel, to her amazement, apart from showing a very natural tendency to want to kill the still as-yet-unnamed dad, seemed to be taking it in his stride.

‘The deed’s done now,’ he pointed out (far too reasonably for Cat), ‘there’s no point crying over spilt milk, we need to think about what happens next.’

Given that Mel had refused point blank to discuss an abortion, and it was probably too late anyway, Cat knew Noel was right, but she felt so churned up about it all she couldn’t bring herself to agree with him, and instead buried her head in the sand, wishing this was happening to some other family. She was even ignoring the inevitable tittle tattle in the red tops about her failings as a mother.