The Christmas Surprise (38 page)

‘I miss you so much,’ Roy said.

‘So much you threw a party?’

‘I hoped you’d hear about it.’

‘You know, I always did love champagne. But with you it was like waiting for a special occasion that never, ever came.’

Roy held out a glass.

‘Can I change that?’

Laura took a step forward.

‘I don’t know.’

Roy’s hand was shaking.

‘I will try.’

Laura stepped forward once more and tentatively reached out and took the glass. Everyone clapped and roared as she clinked it against Roy’s and they both took a sip. Then Roy, amazingly, jumped over the table – knocking over Pamela’s glass as he went, and not even noticing – took Laura into his arms and kissed her, their teeth clanging together.

‘Well,’ said Rosie, stunned.

‘Fuck this,’ said Pamela, and, largely unnoticed, she marched out of the hall, her stilettos clattering on the wooden floor. The band immediately struck up a happy
reel, and finally Jake and Tina got to take to the floor for their first dance.

Much later – she had taken to dancing to avoid the many awkward questions that would doubtless take up much of her time over the next few days – Rosie found herself picking up Apostil, who had been sitting watching the dancers absolutely fascinated, swaying his head to the music and being bounced and jiggled by everyone who came by. She decided it was time to get him home for his bath and bed, before he got overtired. She asked Stephen – who had decided to deal with the situation by drinking rather more – if he’d like to stay, but seeing everyone dancing arm in arm, and Cathryn rounding up the old folk, who were complaining mightily (except for Ida Delia, who had fallen noisily asleep at the table and was snoring loudly with her mouth open, despite Dorothy prodding her and telling her to stop), he decided to come too.

It took them about forty minutes to get round everyone to say goodbye, and Rosie found herself overwhelmed by the levels of love, drunkenness, community and consideration in the warm room; such an outpouring of happiness for the newly-weds, concern for themselves, and extraordinary, jolly bonhomie. It was how, she told herself, she would always remember Lipton.

‘Best wedding ever,’ she whispered in Tina’s hair, which had come completely undone from its posh do and was flying wildly about her shoulders. Her immaculate make-up was also running down her cheeks, and Emily and her friends were taking turns wearing the headpiece and the veil. Of her bouquet there was no sign.

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ said Tina. The joy beaming from her made her still the loveliest bride. ‘But you can’t go.’

‘We must,’ said Rosie, as Apostil grabbed on to Tina’s finger and tried to put her new rings in his mouth. ‘We’ll still see you, though.’

‘What, out here in the middle of nowhere, when it’s snowing up to our waists and pitch dark?’ joked Tina.

‘This isn’t the middle of nowhere,’ said Rosie, sincerely. ‘It’s the middle of my everywhere.’

Rosie carried Apostil in the sling and half carried Stephen as he wobbled back up the main street. A well-fed Mr Dog was running cheerfully behind them.

‘Ha, that was ace,’ said Stephen. ‘Oh God, the look on those old fuckers’ faces when I told them we were leaving.’

‘It was nice,’ said Rosie. ‘That they were sad. You shouldn’t have done that. Especially not to Mrs Baptiste.’

She glanced across the road. The village was utterly deserted, everyone still at the party. But was that a figure stepping out of the shadows?

‘I know,’ said Stephen, still talking loudly. ‘But still. Nice to be appreciated for a change. Funny, when I was younger, I couldn’t wait to get out of this FUCKING SHITHOLE!’ He burst out laughing.

‘You are a really daft drunk,’ Rosie complained.

‘It’s true! I used to think it was a FUCKING SHITHOLE!’ he yelled again. Then his face turned glum. ‘Now I can’t believe we have to leave it,’ he added quietly, but it was too late. The figure had turned round and was waving.

‘No way,’ said Rosie. It was Joy. ‘Does that cow never sleep?’

Joy approached them, iPad welded to her bosom.

‘I was just coming to see you, but you weren’t there,’ she said. She glanced at her watch.

Rosie glanced down. Apostil had pulled off his hat and it was nowhere to be seen. She pulled her jacket over him protectively. The wind was biting.

‘Why are you hanging round this FUCKING SHITHOLE?’ said Stephen, giggling to himself. Rosie felt like kicking his stick away.

Joy pushed a button on her iPad.

‘Do you have many problems with substance abuse?’ she asked.

‘It’s late,’ said Rosie. ‘I need to get the baby home.’

‘Yes, this is an absurd time to have a baby out,’ said Joy. ‘There’s really a lot you need to learn about parenting, you know.’

Stephen was still laughing, and suddenly, all the emotion of the day welled up in Rosie, everything she’d done and was trying to do, and she couldn’t hold it in any more. Knowing as she did it that it was terribly dangerous, she turned on Joy.

‘There’s a lot EVERYONE has to learn about parenting,’ she said loudly. ‘That’s the whole point. It’s a LEARNING PROCESS. If it wasn’t, nobody would bother having the damn things, they’d know it all. But I’ll tell you one thing I’ve learned. This baby is adored, beloved, spoiled rotten by everyone he’s ever met, and that includes his mum, which is me, and his dad, which is that man over there who works like a Trojan every bloody day of his life, and if he isn’t allowed to get a bit pissed at a wedding and his own fricking baby’s christening, well then it’s you who’s got the problem.

‘If you think we’re not good enough for Apostil, you tell your bosses, and we will fight you for our son until there is no fight left in us and we are both lying dead in a ditch. Otherwise, you can just shut the fuck up and get out of our lives. Good night. There’s a party on at the scout hut you could go to, if you ever let your hair down, which I doubt, though it could certainly do with a wash.’

And exhilarated and shocked at herself, she turned round without another word and stomped off with Apostil, Stephen wobbling along as fast as he could on his stick at her side.

‘I have NEVER fancied you more,’ he said as they made their way up past the darkened door of the sweetshop.

‘Oh God …’

‘Sssssh.’

Downstairs, Apostil was crying, a long, thin wail that sounded like he was absolutely furious at the world and wasn’t afraid to show it. Rosie felt like she’d been punched in the head repeatedly. Stephen was lying behind her, his eyes tight shut, making a thick, groaning noise.

‘Oh God …’

‘Jesus,’ said Rosie. She’d kept a close eye on her consumption and was sure she’d only had a few glasses of champagne … well, and some cider, she supposed. And a bit of beer to wash down the fish and chips. And obviously more champagne for all the toasts …

‘Oh crap,’ she said, as Apostil became more demanding. ‘I did that thing where I was drunkenly utterly convinced I was sober.’

‘Rrrrrrr,’ said Stephen, still refusing to open his eyes. His dark stubble stood out on his pale chin.

With great difficulty Rosie managed to roll herself over to the side of the bed.

‘Oh GOD,’ she said. ‘Oh God, what did I say to Joy?’

Stephen put a pillow over his head.

‘She caught you driving a baby whilst drunk,’ he muttered.

Rosie put her head in her hands.

‘Oh God oh God oh God. It’s all right, baby boy, I’m coming.’

She rolled off the bed and resisted the temptation to crawl down the stairs. Her thoughts were churning in her head. What had she done? What had she said? Icy water plummeted into her stomach. Oh God. They’d take Apostil away. They’d done too much, been too rude. Social services would speak to Stephen’s mother and conclude he didn’t have a stable family background. They’d see the house was up for sale and judge them financially incompetent. And what if they’d dropped him? What if something had happened whilst she’d been a bit squiffy?

By the time she got downstairs she was in full-blown tears, and it took her a second or two to realise what she was seeing. Firstly, it was eight o’clock – it was light!
Apostil had slept right through! And secondly, he had manoeuvred himself somehow out of his sleeping bag, and was, wonder of wonders, over on his tummy. When he saw her, he stretched up his arm and beamed a proud gummy smile so enormous that Rosie felt worse than ever.

‘Look at you!’ she said. ‘Are you rolling? Don’t roll on your tummy, that’s bad! Ha, the first thing you have ever done and I’m telling you not to do it.’

‘Gah,’ said Apostil.

Rosie picked him up and covered him in kisses.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I probably smell awful.’

‘Bu,’ said Apostil.

Three cups of tea and four Nurofen later, Rosie was trying to put things in perspective. Apostil had rolled over four times. This was better than everything else.

‘Woah,’ she said. ‘Stephen! You’re missing, like, all the milestones! If you don’t get down here soon, he’ll be off to university.’

‘Grraaaah,’ came a voice from upstairs.

‘Hangovers are much worse when you’re a parent,’ confided Rosie to Apostil. ‘That is why you mustn’t drink.’ She looked around the kitchen dolefully. ‘In fact, almost anything you see your mum and dad do in life, just do the opposite and you’ll be all right.’

Apostil batted her arm until she gave him some more of his bottle. Maybe, thought Rosie. Maybe she hadn’t been too bad with Joy last night. Then she remembered
something about lying dead in a ditch and closed her eyes. Oh Lord.

She also remembered Stephen announcing to everyone that they were leaving. Oh God, no wonder he didn’t want to get up. She checked her phone, as usual having to hang her arm out of the window to get a signal. It started bleeping with messages. She glanced at one from Tina announcing what a fabulous day she’d had, and remembered that they would have to go up there at some point this afternoon and help clear up so the hut could revert to the Boys’ Brigade. She couldn’t help smiling when she remembered Roy and Laura, though. Except, God, poor Pamela.

Eventually she couldn’t take it any longer and went out to get the Sunday papers and some Lucozade for Stephen. Malik looked absolutely fine and cheerful behind the shop counter, even though he’d still been there when they’d left last night.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said when he saw her. ‘Everyone is suffering this morning.’

‘Seriously?’ said Rosie. ‘I look that bad?’

‘No,’ said Malik quickly.

Rosie bought fizzy drinks, papers and some bacon to make sandwiches.

‘So,’ said Malik, ‘you are leaving us.’

‘It’s only a few miles,’ said Rosie. ‘We’ll come back and visit.’

Even as she said it, it sounded hollow to her own ears.

‘We need to do what’s best for this little man,’ she said.

As he always did, Malik tried to give Apostil a lollipop, and Apostil tried to grab it, and Rosie politely returned it.

‘I never know why you think I have a lollipop shortage.’ She smiled at Malik, who smiled back.

‘We’ll miss him,’ he said. ‘The village, it needs children.’

‘I know,’ said Rosie. ‘But, you know … life …’