A Proper Family Christmas (24 page)

‘This is really very kind of you, Ronnie. And Mark,’ said Richard. ‘We’ll make sure it goes to the right place.’

‘We’ve got to go now,’ said Annabel. ‘Can’t leave Izzy too long.’

‘Of course. We’ll see you soon though,’ said Jacqui. ‘Won’t we?’

Annabel assured her they would.

The Buchanans may have left by eight o’clock but the party went on until much later. Chelsea had brought her new boyfriend, Adam, to the wedding. She’d been hesitant about asking him – after all, they had only been dating for six weeks – but he seemed delighted when she finally plucked up the courage. He said it would be an honour. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t already know Chelsea’s family, having met them all in Lanzarote in August. Even if she had yet to be persuaded about Chelsea, Adam’s daughter Lily was certainly keen to see her holiday friend Jack once more.

Lily had been charging around with Jack for much of the day. It was hard to believe that they had once been sworn enemies. Meeting in Lanzarote, they had immediately gone head to head over playground equipment and ice creams. Now it seemed they were the very best of friends. At one point, they both disappeared, causing a brief panic, until they were found beneath the cake table, sharing the last of the cupcakes between them.

But at ten o’clock in the evening, it was as though the children’s batteries had run out. Soon Lily was snoozing in her father’s arms.

‘I suppose I ought to put her to bed,’ said Adam.

Adam and Lily were staying at a nearby Holiday Inn. Chelsea would not be staying with them. She was billeted at her sister’s house that night, to keep an eye on Sophie and Jack while the newlyweds spent their first night together at a hotel.

‘Did you have a nice time?’ she asked him, wishing even as she said it that she hadn’t asked such a lame question.

‘It’s been great. Lily has really enjoyed herself.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’ve enjoyed myself too,’ said Adam, kissing the tip of his finger before touching it to the end of Chelsea’s nose.

‘It wasn’t too …?’

‘It wasn’t too anything. It was a lovely day and I’ve had a lovely time.’

‘You’re next,’ said Mark, sidling up to their table and pointing at Adam.

Chelsea shrivelled inside. But when she dared to look at Adam again he was smiling at her, with a hint of laughter in his eyes.

‘Help me take Lily out to the car,’ he said.

They settled Lily into her child seat and strapped her in without her making so much as a murmur. Then Adam took Chelsea into his arms and kissed her and she was flooded with warmth and happiness.

Chelsea could not have been more content right in that moment. She floated back into the pub and sat down on a banquette next to Jack and Granddad Bill, who were both past their best and needed to go to bed as much as Lily had. Jack pulled his feet up on to the banquette and lay down with his head in Chelsea’s lap. She played with his soft fair hair. They’d become so close on their holiday in Lanzarote that Chelsea couldn’t remember why she’d ever thought spending time with children was a bore.

Ronnie joined them.

‘Have you had a good day?’ asked Chelsea.

‘I’ve had the best day ever.’ Ronnie stretched out her hand so that Chelsea could admire the golden band that now adorned her ring finger. ‘I can’t quite believe it. I’m Mrs Benson-Edwards.’

‘Very posh.’

‘At least I’ve got the same name as my kids now. I didn’t think it would ever happen.’

‘It was always going to happen,’ said Chelsea. ‘Mark has adored you from day one. Just like he said.’

‘He has, hasn’t he? I can’t believe I ever thought he might be having an affair with Cathy from Next Door.’

‘It did seem unlikely.’

The sisters looked towards the bar, where Cathy from Next Door was challenging the barman to an arm-wrestling match. He sensibly declined. She would have beaten him quite easily.

‘Do you feel different?’ Chelsea asked.

‘A bit. It might just be the Spanx. I can’t wait to get them off.’

‘Oh the glamour.’

‘It’ll be you next.’

‘Don’t you start. Mark’s already put his foot in it. He came right out with it in front of Adam!’

‘But why shouldn’t it be? He’s clearly besotted.’

‘Who?’

‘Adam!’

‘Oh …’ Chelsea looked away as though she could hardly bear to hear it. At the same time, she wanted to hear it again and again.

‘He is.’

‘Maybe. But it’s only been a few weeks.’

‘Mark says he knew the day he first met me.’

‘But he waited sixteen years …’ Chelsea reminded her.

‘Different circumstances. You’re both grown-ups. You’ve got your own places. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be together.’

‘I’d like that very much,’ Chelsea admitted.

But though she was delighted by the thought of a lifetime with such a wonderful man as Adam, Chelsea knew that there were obstacles to be overcome before she could really think about a future. For a start, it wasn’t just a matter of beguiling Adam. Lily had to be won over as well. That day, Lily had barely acknowledged Chelsea, preferring to race around with Jack. Whenever they were alone together at Adam’s house, Lily was as monosyllabic as any grumpy teenager.

Plus, six weeks after their return from Lanzarote, Chelsea was still only taking the very first steps along the road to recovery from the bulimia that had blighted most of her adult life. If she and Adam were to get really serious, she would have to tell him what was going on.

How would he take it? Would he understand? Would he think it was too much to deal with so early in their time together? It was not so long ago that he lost his wife, the woman he had pledged to love for the rest of his life. He had been candid about the difficulties of coping alone with Lily and had explained to Chelsea that he hadn’t become involved with anyone since his wife’s death because he was concentrating so hard on getting himself and Lily through their grief, he could only short-change a new girlfriend. He wouldn’t have been able to offer her the support she deserved.

Would Adam think that Chelsea needed too much from him?

In Chelsea’s lap, Jack stirred and half-opened his eyes.

‘Are you looking after us tonight, Auntie Chelsea?’

Chelsea felt such a huge rush of affection for her nephew that it almost caused her pain.

Love, real love, is an enormous responsibility.

Back at the Great House, Richard went straight upstairs to see Izzy. Annabel remained in the kitchen. She opened the envelope that Ronnie had given her. Mark had estimated five hundred but there was almost six hundred pounds in crisp notes. It was an unbearably kind gesture.

Still, Annabel wished she had taken the opportunity to tell the assembled guests that there was one way they could help which would be altogether more important to the Buchanans. Who knew how many people in that room might have been a match? Everyone they’d met that night seemed to be related to Jacqui or Dave in some way or another. By extrapolation, they were related to Annabel and Izzy too.

Annabel was frustrated that nobody had asked her about the possibility. Surely they must have been online and seen something about live donation? Were they really so naive that it had never crossed their minds? Or, more likely, had they already thought about it and ruled it out?

When she came downstairs from where she had been sitting with Izzy, Sarah looked at the money spread out on the table and sighed.

‘Richard told me about the collection. If only money was all it took, eh?’

Annabel nodded. ‘But it was a lovely thought. I think it was a good thing that we went today. I think we can ask them next time we see them.’

‘When will that be?’

‘I don’t suppose it will be too long.’ Annabel paused. ‘Mum, Jacqui asked about you. She said that she would like to meet you.’

Sarah listened quietly while Annabel told her about the conversation she and Jacqui had at the reception.

‘I don’t think I can meet her,’ Sarah concluded. ‘Not yet. If you think this is confusing for you, it’s just as difficult for me. While I wouldn’t know Jacqui if I bumped into her on the street, I can still tell myself I’m your only mum.’

‘But you
are
my only mum. That will never change,’ Annabel promised her. ‘I swear it.’

The following day, Jacqui called Annabel as soon as was decent to thank her for coming along to the wedding.

‘It meant a lot to our Ronnie,’ she said. ‘She was so glad to see you and as for that beautiful frame you bought them! Oh, it’s really lovely.’

The frame. Annabel bit her lip.

‘But when are we going to see you again?’

‘As soon as possible,’ said Annabel.

‘Really?’ Jacqui sounded surprised but delighted. ‘That’s wonderful. Ronnie’s going away for a couple of days for her honeymoon but she wants to have a lunch at her house when they get back, to thank us for organising the wedding. You should come too.’

Annabel agreed.

‘Next Sunday?’

‘It’s in the diary.’

This time they would ask the big question.

As soon as she and Mark got back from their honeymoon, which was two nights at Mallory Court, a smart hotel near Leamington Spa, Ronnie started preparing for that Sunday lunch with the Buchanans.

Mark, Sophie and Jack were all walking on eggshells from Tuesday night onwards. The fridge was full but there was nothing for Ronnie’s husband or children to eat. Every time one of them ventured into the kitchen for so much as a glass of water, Ronnie would fly in there after them, screeching, ‘You’re not to touch anything in the fridge. It’s for Sunday!’

‘Anyone would think the bloody Queen was coming,’ said Mark. ‘It’s only your sister. You wouldn’t make this much effort for Chelsea.’

‘I would,’ Ronnie insisted. ‘I would do exactly the same.’

‘But you never have,’ Mark pointed out. ‘Look, can’t I just have some of these sausages? I’ll go out and replace them before Sunday comes.’

‘No. They’re for the devils on horseback,’ said Ronnie.

‘Who has devils on horseback except at Christmas?’

‘We do.’

‘Right.’

Mark contented himself with a bowl of cornflakes.

It wasn’t just the food that was off-limits until the weekend. On Thursday evening, Ronnie washed every glass in the house and spent an age polishing them. Once the glasses were sparkling like they were on display in the crystal department at Harrods, they were put back in the cupboard and Ronnie marked the cupboard door with a Post-it:
Do not use
. The family was reduced to using a variety of battered plastic cups. This upset Jack in particular. He was horrified to be presented with his Bob the Builder sippy cup again.

‘I’m not a baby,’ he protested.

But Ronnie was not to be persuaded that a visit from the Buchanans did not warrant going to such extremes.

‘You’ve seen her house, Mark. She lives in a mansion. She has two cleaners. Two! I’ve
worked
as a cleaner. I don’t want her coming round here thinking we live in a pigsty.’

And so the whole house was vacuumed twice on Saturday and when Jack dropped a piece of toast on the kitchen floor on Sunday morning, causing Ronnie to shriek like a banshee, the row that ensued between Mark and Ronnie was almost grounds for divorce just a week into their marriage.

‘I don’t want the Buchanans to come,’ said Jack, as he ran upstairs for cover. ‘They’re ruining my life.’

‘See?’ said Mark. ‘See what you’re doing? Your son is crying because of this. Do you think Annabel Buchanan would be impressed by that?’

‘All I ask is that you all pull together to make the house look nice when they come.’

‘We’ve been living in terror all week. Jack dropped a piece of toast. You bawled at him like he did it deliberately. He’s a kid. He’s always dropping stuff.’

‘He should be more careful.’

‘You should take a look at yourself. You’re tying yourself up in knots for that woman. She’s your sister, Ronnie. Your
sister
. If she can’t take us as we are, then fuck her.’

‘Will you mind your language?’

‘What? In case Lady Buchanan hears? Ronnie, just because she grew up with the aristocracy, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly all posh too.’

Ronnie wouldn’t address another word to her new husband until the Buchanans pulled into the drive.

As Annabel knocked on the door, Ronnie was just arranging a wedding photograph, in the frame that Annabel had given them as a wedding present on a console table in the hall.

Ronnie was not the only one who had been working hard to make a good impression on the Buchanans. While Ronnie locked herself into the kitchen and cursed her devils on horseback, Sophie was trying to transform her room. She could never make it as big as Izzy’s, but she could make it just as interesting.

She spent the first week’s wages from her new Saturday job in a bakery on a couple of sarongs. She attached them to the wall with drawing pins, covering up the Flower Fairy wallpaper that Mark had been promising to change for years. She arranged her most treasured possessions on the shelf. She hung her second-hand Beats headphones from her desk lamp and then took them down and put them up again, aiming for a more casual arrangement, as though she had just tossed them to one side when she got home. No big deal.

Then she opened the window, even though it was raining outside. Sophie had a dread fear that Izzy would think her bedroom smelly. Sophie’s friends had never commented but whenever she walked into the room after being away for a while – such as when they got back from Lanzarote – Sophie’s nose picked up the faintest whiff of mould when she opened the door. She didn’t want Izzy to notice that.

When she had finished, Sophie stood in her doorway and imagined she was seeing her room for the very first time. It wasn’t perfect. It could never be perfect with the Flower Fairy wallpaper. But Sophie was pleased that it looked like the room of someone quite sophisticated. Someone a little bit different. Someone who would impress Isabella Buchanan.