Carole Singer's Christmas (18 page)

She reached out for her mobile and called Nick.

‘You’ll have to let yourself in,’ she managed to say, ‘I’ve got a really bad cold and I can’t get out of bed.’

He didn’t reply and she ended the call when she heard the front door open.

‘I’ll bring you up some honey and lemon,’ he called up the stairs. ‘Stay put.’

She thought that was a rather futile comment as she had just told him that she couldn’t get up anyway.

Moments later, he popped his head around the door and strolled in.

‘Don’t bother to knock.’

‘I see your sarcasm is alive and well.’

‘Yep. Just me who’s dying.’

‘Drama queen.’

She opened her mouth to retaliate but couldn’t think of anything suitable to say. Another sneeze took her totally by surprise.

Nick jumped back and crossed his index fingers in the shape of a cross, grinning as he did so.

‘It’s not funny,’ she snapped. ‘It hurts.’

‘Sorry. I’ve put the kettle on and I’ll make you a hot honey and lemon drink but I thought I’d check to see if you want anything else. What time is your boyfriend arriving?’

‘Bugger, I’d forgotten he was coming today. Oh God, I’d better try and get up.’ She lifted her head off the pillow and twisted onto one elbow.

‘That’s far enough,’ he said, placing a cold hand on her shoulder and easing her back down.

‘Your hand’s cold,’ she said.

‘And you’re hot,’ he replied.

‘So I’ve been told – although Mr Jarvis doesn’t seem to think so.’

Nick smirked. ‘And your humour is hanging on by a thread. We may be able to save you yet.’

‘It’s too late for me. Save yourself.’

‘I don’t get colds.’

‘Nor do I. This isn’t a cold. It’s bubonic plague or ... or stage fever. I got it from that draughty village hall. Atchoo! Atchoo!’

‘It’s a pity we’re not doing
Cinderella
. You could play the part of Sneezy.’

‘Wrong production. That was
Snow White and the
... A…tchoo!’

‘Hmm. That’s a new one on me. Just as well it’s not
Sleeping Beauty
.’

Her watery eyes shot open. ‘Thanks very much. You certainly know how to make a girl feel better!’

He grinned. ‘I meant because you keep sneezing, not that you aren’t beautiful. You have looked better though, if I’m going to be honest.’

‘Thanks. You say the nicest things. Atchoo!’

‘I’ll make the drink.’ He headed towards the door, stopped and looked back. ‘It’s none of my business of course, but why don’t you phone your boyfriend and tell him not to come down this weekend?’

‘Why?’ Carole asked, wondering for just one moment if...

‘Well, I get the distinct impression that he and Mitsy don’t quite see eye to eye. There’s no point in him being here kicking his heels if you’re going to be spending the weekend in bed, is there? Although ... having said that, isn’t that precisely what he was hoping for?’

‘Very funny. I’m not going to be spending the weekend in bed. I’ll just stay here for a few hours and then I’ll get up.’

‘I don’t think so. You really do look dreadful.’

‘Go away,’ Carole mumbled, turning over and burying her head in the pillow.

He had a point though, she thought. It would be silly for Dominic to drive all the way here and then find he’d have to play nursemaid to both her and her gran. None of them would enjoy that. Damn it! Nick was right.

She reached out for her phone again and called Dom. It took him a while to answer.

‘Have you left yet?’ she asked.

‘Sorry babe,’ he said sleepily. ‘I didn’t get in until five and I just crashed out for a few minutes. I’m leaving now.’

‘No!’ Carole said. ‘I’ve got a really bad cold, Dom and I can’t get out of bed. That’s why I’m calling. I think it’s best if you don’t come down this weekend. I won’t be able to do anything and you’ll just be sitting here twiddling your thumbs. Besides, I don’t want to give you my germs.’

‘But hun, I miss you. I’ve been looking forward to this weekend all week.’

‘Me too, Dom but I can’t do anything, and I do mean, anything. I can’t even get out of bed yet because I feel so bad. Come down next weekend instead.’

He didn’t answer for several seconds. ‘Okay,’ he finally said, followed by a lengthy sigh.

He sounded like a little boy who’d just been told he can’t go out to play, Carole thought.

‘I’m sorry, Dom,’ she said. ‘But it is only a week.’

‘Yeah, but it feels as if you’ve been away forever already. I suppose you’re right though. And that’ll give you time to talk to your gran and make sure we’re in the same room because if I’ve got to go without sex for another week, by next weekend I’ll be ready to rip your clothes off on the doorstep.’

For some reason that didn’t sound quite as appealing as it should have. She must be ill, she thought.

‘Okay. I’ll see you next weekend.’

‘I love you babe. Get better soon.’

‘Thanks, Dom. I love you too.’

She ended the call and dropped the phone onto the bed. Her head was thumping and her nose was running; her eyes were streaming and her throat was sore but she suddenly realised that, although she did love Dom and she did want to see him, she was actually rather pleased that he wouldn’t be coming down for the weekend – she just wasn’t sure why.

***

Carole spent all of Saturday in bed, not because she wanted to but because Nick insisted on it.

‘But I need to look after Gran,’ she argued.

‘And give her your cold. That’s a brilliant idea. Matilda’s coming round to be with Mitsy, so you can stay put. I’ve made you this flask of honey, lemon and hot water,’ Nick said, putting a giant-sized flask on her bedside table, ‘and here’s some of my homemade remedy to help soothe your throat even more.’

‘What’s in it?’Carole asked warily.

‘You probably don’t want to know but it’s good for you and it works, so do as you’re told and take it.’

‘Don’t be bossy. I’m ill!’

‘Which is why I’m being bossy. Stay in bed, get plenty of sleep and I’ll see you this evening. Call me if you need me.’

‘Dom’s not coming down,’ Carole said, hugging the duvet around her for comfort. ‘You were right, so I called him and told him not to.’

‘And he agreed?’ Nick seemed surprised.

‘Of course he agreed. Why wouldn’t he agree?’

Nick shrugged his shoulders. ‘No reason.’

‘What? You might as well just say it. There’s clearly something on your mind.’

He fixed his gaze on her. ‘If it were me, I’d still come down.’

Her mouth fell open in astonishment. ‘That’s just silly! You said yourself that he and Gran don’t get on. And why risk getting a stinking cold just to see me?’

‘Love?’

‘Atchoo! Are ... are you suggesting he doesn’t love me?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything. I’m merely saying what I would do.’

‘But you were the one who told me to tell him not to come!’

‘Yes.’

‘Why do that if you thought he should be here?’

He shrugged again. ‘I ... thought it was for the best.’

‘What does that mean?’

She thought she saw something in his eyes but as hers were so watery, she couldn’t be sure.

‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes it matters! What are you playing at, Nick?’

‘I’m not playing at anything. It was the sensible thing to do. And as you said yourself, why risk getting a cold?’

‘So ... now you’re saying he’s doing the right thing by not coming? A ... tchoo!’

‘I’m not saying it’s right or wrong. We all do what we want to do. We all make our own choices.’

‘So ... you’re saying that you think he does love me.  He just makes different choices?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I think, does it?’ He turned and walked towards the door, stopping briefly at the threshold and glancing back at her. ‘All I’m saying is that Love isn’t sensible.’

***

When Carole awoke on Sunday morning, she heard three things.

The first was the sound of Nick’s deep, throaty, infectious laughter.

The second was a loud, gravelly Scottish accent.

The third was her mother’s unmistakeable voice.

She was dreaming, obviously. She must be dreaming. Please, dear God, let me be dreaming!

The footsteps on the stairs weren’t Nick’s. The person humming
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
wasn’t Nick. The long, wavy but elegantly tied back, titian hair definitely wasn’t Nick’s.

‘Morning darling!’ Sarah Singer said as she positively bounced into her daughter’s bedroom.

Carole’s head shot up from the pillow as if she were seeing
The
Ghost of Christmas Past
. Her mother was carrying a tray, bearing a mug of tea and a plate of her special scrambled eggs.

It was as if the clocks had been turned back and Carole was a child again, living in a happy and loving home where her mother dressed like a mum and not like mutton dressed as lamb, and brought her tea and curried scrambled eggs, which were Sarah Singer’s remedy for curing all ills.

‘Mum?’ She wondered if she were suffering from a fever causing her to hallucinate. ‘Is ... is that really you?’

‘Of course it’s me, cherub. Who else do you think it is?’

‘I’m really not sure. You ... you look so different. So much like...’

‘Like I used to when I was a mum and not a raving lunatic, you mean?’

Carole’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘No, I ... well...’

Sarah placed the tray on the bedside table and sat on the edge of Carole’s bed. She took her daughter’s hands in hers and squeezed them.

‘It’s okay, cherub. I know I haven’t been the best of mums over the years and for that I’m truly sorry but I’m going to make it up to you, I promise. To you and to Mum. I ... I put you both through hell sometimes after ... well … after your father died, I realise that, but it’s taken me until now to see it.’

‘And ... and what’s brought about this ... Epiphany?’

‘Jamie. Purely and simply, Jamie. He’s made me see what I was doing. Where I was going wrong. How much ... I’ve been hurting you and Mum. I can’t say I’ve completely and utterly transformed or reverted to the way I was before, but I’m getting there. It’ll take time but with his love and understanding and with your help and Mum’s, I think I can finally say goodbye to crazy, depressed Sarah Singer, single, widowed mother out of control, and hello to rational and happy, homely Mum. Now eat your scrambled eggs. We need to get you well.’

‘Wow!’ was all Carole could say. She really couldn’t think of anything else.

With her mum’s help, she sat up and bolted down the scrambled eggs. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was but as she hadn’t eaten anything all day yesterday, in spite of both Matilda and Nick trying to make her, she wasn’t really that surprised.

Sarah sat on the bed and watched her eat, taking the plate from her when she had finished.

‘Is that Jamie I can hear downstairs?’ Carole asked, leaning back against the pillow and feeling much better already.

Sarah smiled and Carole could see the love in her eyes, in her smile, in fact, everywhere. It was as if her mum were surrounded by an aura of love.

‘Yes. He wanted to come with me.’

‘But ... but why are you here, Mum? I mean ... how did you get here?’

Sarah chuckled. ‘Well, I should give you a telling off about that. Imagine not telling me that my own mother had broken her leg and that you were coming to look after her. But I suppose I can’t really blame you, can I? I’m here now and that’s all that matters. I called you at home on the landline and Dominic told me you were here, looking after Mum but that you were ill. I told Jamie I had to come and see you, both of you, and the next thing I know he’s booked our flights and here we are.’

‘Wow!’ Carole said again. She had never been so surprised in her entire life, as far as she could recall.

‘And it’ll be a good opportunity for you and Mum to really get to know Jamie. That’s why we wanted you all to come up to us for Christmas. So that we could be together. Be a ... family. Now we’ll be spending Christmas here instead.’

Carole’s eyes were watering and it wasn’t from her cold.

‘But ... what about your business? What about his job?’

‘I can run my little bath product business from anywhere and Jamie can do the same with the websites he designs and builds. We don’t need to be in Scotland to do that. In fact, cherub, we were discussing it on the way here and ... well, nothing’s certain yet but with Mum getting on, and Scotland being so far away from you both, we may be thinking of moving down to Sussex – permanently.’

Carole was astonished. ‘But ... you’ve only just moved up to Scotland to be with Jamie. Would he want to come down here?’

‘He says he’ll be happy to. He wants to be with me so if I decide I need to be here, he’ll come here. I went to Scotland to be with him but there’s no reason we have to stay there. I hadn’t really thought about how far it was from you, and he says he can live anywhere as long as we’re together.’

‘Wow!’ Carole said yet again. Words failed her completely.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nick wasn’t quite sure how he felt.

On the one hand, he was really pleased to have finally met Carole’s mum. He’d heard so much about her from Mitsy and snippets here and there from Carole, but when he saw her in the flesh she was nothing like he’d imagined.

Mind you, he clearly wasn’t the only one surprised by Sarah Singer. Mitsy was evidently astonished, not just to see her daughter whom she hadn’t laid eyes on since Sarah had moved to Scotland in the summer, but also that apparently, Sarah had metamorphosed into the person she had been, many, many years ago.

Carole had been almost overwhelmed, it seemed. On the insistence of her mother, she had remained in bed and Nick had only seen her for a few brief seconds when he’d popped his head around the door to say hello, but as Sarah was sitting on the bed and brushing Carole’s hair, he hadn’t stayed.

Despite Mitsy saying he was welcome to come back for Sunday lunch which Sarah had insisted she would be cooking, or to pop back later for tea, he’d felt it wasn’t his place. They were a family reconnecting and Nick didn’t belong there. He wasn’t a relative and nor was he ever likely to be and somehow that took some of the pleasure out of the evident joy both Mitsy and Carole were experiencing. He wanted them both to be happy; he just hadn’t realised their happiness would come at such a cost to him.