The Marriage Mender (11 page)

‘Come on, the rest of you,’ said Matilda.

Josh picked up his cracker and turned, holding it out to Lydia. I watched as they did it, Josh’s eyes smiling, Lydia laughing at her inability to pull it open. When it finally banged, Lydia and Chris both offered Josh their crackers at the same time. He sat there, seemingly unsure whose to take.

‘Pull both of them at once,’ said Matilda. ‘Go on, I bet you can’t do it.’

Josh had never been one to turn down a dare. He grabbed
hold of both crackers. Chris had no choice. He had to pull. He was connected, albeit via Josh, to Lydia. They all pulled. Lydia almost fell off her chair at one point. Chris’s cracker was the first to bang, seconds before Lydia’s. He held his fist aloft in triumph. Lydia laughed. Josh did too.

And I sat there imagining them on that first Christmas with Josh. Here, in this very room. Maybe they got him to sleep while they had Christmas dinner. Maybe he sat propped up on Lydia’s lap. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t part of that family. I was suddenly acutely aware of that fact.

Matilda, whose purple paper hat kept slipping down her silky hair and over her eyes, instructed everyone else to wear theirs. Josh put his on upside down, Chris’s sat awkwardly on top of his wavy hair, Lydia wore hers (which just happened to match her top) at a jaunty angle and somehow managed to look cool, Barbara played it straight with hers and I popped mine on, knowing it made me look like a photo captioned ‘The British Being Naff at Christmas’.

‘Right,’ I said, picking up my glass, ‘we need a toast.’ I looked at Chris as I said it, hoping he’d be able to think of something suitable.

‘Here’s to Christmases, past, present and future,’ he said. I stared at him, trying to work out why he’d said it when the Ghost of Christmas Past was sitting at our table.

Everyone raised their glasses, even Matilda with her Ribena. We all clinked together at our end of the table before stretching our arms out to the other end. Lydia reached out her glass to Chris and Barbara. There was a wordless, gentle clink.

It was only seconds later that Lydia’s phone beeped with a text message. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, fumbling in her bag which was hanging over the corner of the chair, ‘I should have turned it off.’

She got out her phone. I watched the lightness fade from her face as she read the message. Her eyes became dark and heavy. Her fingers jabbed at the keys under the table. She sent the message, turned her phone off and thrust it back into her bag.

‘And a Merry Christmas to you too,’ she muttered, raising her glass and taking several big gulps before putting it back down on the table.

I glanced at Chris. He was eyeing Lydia warily. I had a pretty good idea who the message had been from. And a pretty good idea that it had not been welcome news.

‘So, what have you got in store for us tomorrow?’ Chris asked Barbara.

‘I thought we’d walk down to Jerusalem Farm,’ said Barbara, ‘and maybe come back over Midgley Moor.’

‘Ohhh, that’s miles,’ said Matilda. ‘My legs won’t go that far.’

‘Barbara always likes to come up with a family walk for us on Boxing Day,’ I said to Lydia.

‘Yeah. I remember. Although I used to be able to get Chris out of it sometimes, didn’t I?’ she said, turning to smile at Chris. ‘If we had something more pressing to attend to.’

Chris put his knife down on the edge of his plate and looked at her sharply. Barbara pursed her lips.

‘Roast potatoes are lovely, Alison,’ she said. ‘And turkey’s very tender, i’n’t it?’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Help yourself to cranberry sauce, everyone.’

Lydia took another large swig of wine. My stomach tightened. I was willing everyone to eat more quickly.

‘Can I have some, please?’ asked Matilda.

I passed it to her and watched her smother the nut roast with it so she could actually eat it and pretend she liked it. She still hadn’t touched her turkey.

‘That Aga’s always cooked good roast potatoes,’ said Lydia. ‘I’m hopeless at cooking but they always tasted good out of there, didn’t they, Chris?’

Chris stared at her and nodded slowly.

‘Do you still have that same man come to service it? The little beardy weirdy guy with the odd laugh … what was his name?’

‘Malcolm,’ said Chris.

‘Oh God, yeah, Malcolm. He was a blast. You’ll have to send him my regards next time he comes.’

‘Which was your bedroom?’ asked Matilda. ‘When you lived here, I mean.’

It was as if she’d been programmed to ask the most inappropriate questions.

‘The same one your dad has now, I expect,’ said Lydia. ‘With the lovely cast-iron fireplace and the big sash window looking out across the back.’

‘That’s it,’ said Matilda. ‘That’s Mummy and Daddy’s room.’

‘Is it still black and white?’ asked Lydia.

‘No, it’s a sort of beige colour. “Coffee and cream” Mummy calls it. Do you want to come and have a look?’

‘Not now, Matilda,’ I said. ‘We’re having Christmas lunch.’

‘Afterwards, then,’ said Matilda. ‘I’ll show her it afterwards, while you’re clearing away, and she can tell me what it used to be like.’

I remembered my less than pristine dressing gown hanging up behind the door. My pyjamas, which I’d flung on the bed in the mad rush to get dressed and downstairs in time to see Matilda open her presents. It was freezing in our bedroom, you needed pyjamas at this time of year. Although I couldn’t imagine Lydia ever wore them. I decided to change the subject in the hope that Matilda would forget all about the guided tour. I also knew that Lydia had plans later, as Josh had told me. Although I didn’t know if that was still the case after the text message.

‘So, Josh, what film have you got lined up for us?’ I asked.

It was our family tradition. One that Lydia wouldn’t know about. We took it in turns to choose the film to watch on Christmas evening every year. Last year, Matilda had made us sit through
Santa Paws
. I suspected Josh was about to get his own back.

‘I’m between three at the moment,’ he said.

‘So are you going to tell us what they are?’

‘Nope. I’ll make you sweat on it.’

‘And you’re sticking to the criteria, are you?’ asked Chris.

The criteria were that it had to be a U or PG certificate, something which wouldn’t give Matilda nightmares. And ideally something that wouldn’t make the rest of us, apart from Matilda, want to throw up.

‘Yep,’ said Josh. ‘It’ll be something dark and satanic and scary as hell.’

‘Thank you,’ said Chris.

‘Just be aware that it’s my turn next year,’ I said. ‘So I can always get my own back.’

‘I know what you’re going to choose already,’ said Matilda, tugging my sleeve. ‘You said about it last year.
It’s a Wonderful Wife
.’

There was laughter from all corners of the table.

‘What?’ said Matilda.

‘I think you’ll find it’s called
It’s A Wonderful Life
,’ said Josh.

‘And it’s a classic,’ I said. ‘I think you’d both like it.’

‘It is pretty good, actually,’ said Josh.

‘When have you seen it?’ I asked.

‘At Mum’s, last Saturday,’ he said, in a tone which implied this should have been obvious.

‘We used to watch it every Christmas Eve, didn’t we, Chris?’ said Lydia.

He nodded and looked down at the table. Lydia drained her glass and poured herself another one. I was tempted to
have some red myself. Anything to limit the amount she had at her disposal.

‘Curled up on the sofa, in front of the fire,’ she went on. ‘With Josh feeding on me that first Christmas we had him. We used to have our family traditions too, you see.’ She spat the words out, looking at me as she said them.

Josh shifted in his seat. His face was pleading with her to stop, but she wasn’t looking at him. I tried to make eye contact with Chris but he avoided it. His jaw had tightened. I suspected he was trying very hard not to say something.

‘Was Josh a good baby?’ asked Matilda.

Normally I’d have been pleased at her interest and conversational skills. But right at that moment I wished she would keep quiet.

‘Not really,’ said Lydia, already halfway through her next glass. ‘He cried a lot. Never liked going to sleep, you see. You were a bit of a night owl, like your mother, weren’t you?’

She leant over towards Josh and put her arm around his shoulders. Josh smiled awkwardly.

‘He was a very good baby, actually,’ said Chris quietly.

‘I’m sorry?’ said Lydia.

‘Just saying.’

‘More potatoes, anyone?’ I asked, holding out the dish. I suspected it was futile. I was right.

‘So I don’t know my own son, is that what you’re saying?’ asked Lydia, her face hardening, her words starting to slur.

‘Well, it’s hardly surprising, is it?’ said Chris.

‘Leave it, love,’ I said.

‘No, I’d like to hear what he has to say,’ said Lydia.

‘Of course you don’t know him. Until a couple of months ago, you hadn’t seen him since he was a few months old.’

‘Six months,’ said Lydia.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Why don’t you fill me in, then?’ said Lydia. ‘Tell me what I missed.’

‘OK, we’ll start with the night you left, shall we?’ said Chris, his tone falsely jolly. ‘He cried because he couldn’t feed on you, and he couldn’t understand why, because there is no way to make a baby understand that his mother has run off and left him. I had to drive down to the petrol station with a screaming baby to get some formula. That was fun, I can tell you.’

‘What did you want me to do?’ screamed Lydia. ‘Take him with me? You wouldn’t have liked that, either, would you?’

‘Stop it, both of you,’ said Josh. His voice was breaking, and he swallowed hard.

Chris looked down at his plate.

Matilda got up and came to sit on my lap. ‘I don’t like it, Mummy,’ she said. ‘Why is everyone being cross?’

Lydia drained her glass and went to pour a refill.

‘I think you’ve had enough,’ I said, moving the bottle out of the way.

‘Oh, you do, do you?’ said Lydia. ‘And of course, you
know everything, don’t you? You know what’s best for everyone. At least, you think you do.’

‘Leave Ali out of it,’ said Chris.

‘Ahhh, touching, isn’t it? Sticking up for your little wifey here. Only she’s not Josh’s mother, is she? She’s got no right to stick her nose in where it’s not wanted.’

‘She’s been more of a mother to him than you ever were. Who do you think was there when he got picked on at school? When he fell off his bike and knocked his tooth out? It wasn’t you, was it? You obviously had better things to do. Like you had better things to do on Bonfire Night, when Josh was sitting waiting for you in a cafe. I hope he was worth it, that’s all I can say.’

‘Shut up!’ screamed Lydia. ‘You have no fucking idea.’

Josh’s eyes were screwed tight shut. I knew I had to do something before this escalated any further.

‘Barbara, can you take Matilda up to her room for me, please?’ I asked.

Barbara nodded, wiped the gravy from her mouth with her napkin and stood up. Matilda ran to her, burying her head against her chest.

‘That’s right,’ said Lydia. ‘Run to Grandma. Good old Barbara. Never good enough for your son, was I? Thought I was corrupting him. That butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. And all the time he was smoking dope while he was shagging my arse off.’

Matilda started crying. Barbara tried to lead her towards the stairs, but she refused to move.

‘That’s enough,’ shouted Chris, getting to his feet and jabbing his finger in the air towards Lydia. ‘Get out. Now.’

Lydia picked up her glass.

‘Mum. No!’ shouted Josh.

But it was too late. She threw it. Chris ducked. It narrowly missed Matilda and smashed against the wall behind her, fragments flying everywhere. Matilda screamed and covered her eyes. I ran over to her. There were bits of glass in her hair, splashes of red on the collar of her dress. Chris bent down next to her, prized her hands away from her eyes, eased the paper hat up over her forehead.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Her face is fine. I think the red’s just wine.’

Barbara strode over to Lydia, who had scrambled unsteadily to her feet.

‘You have done enough damage to my family to last a lifetime,’ she said, her voice an unrecognisable steely rasp. ‘Don’t you ever come anywhere near them again. Do you understand me?’

Lydia picked up her bag and headed for the hall. She walked straight past Josh, who was still sitting at the table, his eyes small and scared, his face pale.

A few moments later, the door slammed behind her.

I breathed. For what seemed like the first time in minutes. And all I could think, as I looked around at my family, was how ridiculous it was that we were all still wearing our paper hats.

So I came downstairs and he had Page Three open on the breakfast table and he drew a circle in green felt tip around the girl’s tummy at the top of the thong and said, ‘She needs to get rid of that, she’s got a bit of an overhang there.’

I looked at it. I mean, there was nothing there. Her belly looked perfectly flat to me. And then I looked at him, all sixteen stone of him, most of it hanging over the top of his trousers.

‘Is Tilda OK?’ asked Josh, the first to break the silence.

I nodded, feeling her little chest heaving against me, and picked out the bits of glass I could see in her hair.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice small and shaky. ‘I’m really sorry.’ He pushed his chair back, got up and walked out of the kitchen.

I listened to his footsteps on the stairs. To his bedroom door shutting behind him. To the hurt that seeped out under it. Matilda was still clinging to me.

‘Do you think I’ve got it all out?’ I asked Chris, handing him the three shards of glass I’d found.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a comb. We’ll go through it.’

I nodded. Barbara was already on her way back from the kitchen with a dustpan and brush. We were doing that thing British people did in crises. Coping stoically without a mention of what had gone on before.

Barbara swept all the big pieces of glass on the floor into the dustpan while I sat holding Matilda. Stroking her back. Making soothing noises. Chris returned with the comb and a piece of card. He ran the comb gently through Matilda’s hair. Once or twice there was a tiny sound as a fragment dropped out on to the card which he held underneath.

Still Matilda said nothing. She didn’t even complain when the comb pulled on her tangles. Just gulped for air and clung on tight to me.

Barbara brought the vacuum cleaner in. ‘I’m going to go over floor,’ she said. ‘Make sure I’ve got it all up.’

Chris continued working on the other side of Matilda’s hair. He didn’t make eye contact with me once, but stayed entirely focused on the task in hand. Eventually he stepped back. ‘That’s everything I can find. Might be a good idea to wash her hair, though, just to be on the safe side.’

I nodded. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ I said to Matilda. ‘We’ll get you all clean and changed. You’ll feel better then.’

Matilda peeled her damp face off my jumper. ‘We haven’t even had our Christmas pudding yet,’ she said.

I nodded and stroked her hair, surveying the remnants of the Christmas dinner on the table. Half-eaten potatoes and prostrate parsnips littered the dinner plates like casualties of war on a battlefield.

‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘After we’ve got you sorted, why don’t we come down and eat Christmas pudding?’

Matilda nodded, her face brightening a fraction. ‘All of us?’ she asked. ‘Will we all eat it together?’

‘Nearly all of us,’ I said. ‘I don’t think Josh will be hungry.’

‘He’s never really liked Christmas pudding, has he?’ said Matilda.

‘No, love. Not really.’

* * *

I didn’t say anything to her about what had happened until I’d washed her hair in the shower and she was in the bath, enveloped womb-like in warm water, with a few drops of lavender oil thrown in for good measure.

‘I’m really sorry, love,’ I said, kneeling next to the bath, ‘about what happened just now. You shouldn’t have had to see or hear any of that.’

‘Why did she change?’ Matilda asked. ‘She was really nice at first.’

‘I think she had a text message which upset her, love. And she had too much to drink. Unfortunately, adults can get very upset and angry when they’ve had too much alcohol.’

‘Had Daddy had too much to drink?’

‘No, love.’

‘So why did he get angry?’

I sighed. ‘Because he’s very protective of you and Josh. Of all of us, really. He didn’t like her saying bad things.’

‘So why did you let her come here? She spoilt Christmas dinner for everyone.’

‘I know, love. But Josh wanted to be with her on Christmas Day, and I thought it would be nicer if she came here than if Josh went to her house. Only, sometimes, adults get things wrong.’

‘She won’t be coming next year, will she?’

‘No.’

‘Is Josh ever going to see her again?’

‘I don’t know.’

Matilda sat for a moment staring at the tiles opposite. The troubled look on her face remained.

I wondered if I should say anything more. It was hard to know how much she had understood of what had been said down there.

‘Are there things you’re still not sure about?’ I asked.

She nodded her head.

‘You can ask me anything, you know that.’

‘Can I still open my present from her?’

‘Yes, love,’ I said, managing a faint smile. ‘Of course you can.’

* * *

When we got back downstairs, Barbara had cleared away the debris of lunch.

‘I’ve saved what I can, love,’ she whispered to me. ‘We can always have turkey sandwiches for tea.’

I nodded and squeezed her hand. ‘Where’s Chris?’ I asked.

‘In the lounge. He’s not said a word since.’

‘Has he been up to see Josh?’

Barbara shook her head.

‘Matilda, why don’t you pop and play with your presents for a bit, while we get the pudding ready?’

‘OK,’ she said and went through to the lounge.

If anyone could get Chris out of the place he was in right now, it was Matilda.

‘Can you warm up the pudding for me, please?’ I asked Barbara. ‘I’m just going to pop upstairs.’

I knocked on Josh’s bedroom door.

‘I don’t want anything else to eat,’ he called out.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I wanted to check you were OK.’

I waited to be told where to go. He said nothing. I pushed open the door. Josh was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes red and puffy, the sound of something loud and thrashy coming from his earphones.

I sat down on the end of the bed. ‘Matilda’s fine, love,’ I said. ‘I think it was the shock more than anything.’

Josh turned his iPod off. ‘She didn’t have any scratches?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It was a bad idea to invite your mum here.’

‘So why did you suggest it?’ His tone was hurt rather than angry.

I sighed and shut my eyes for a second. ‘I was trying to keep everyone happy. Obviously it didn’t work.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said Josh after a while.

‘Well, I’m really sorry, anyway. It should never have happened.’

‘Dad shouldn’t have started on her either. Not when she was in that state.’

‘I know. It was hard for him, though. I should have realised how hard it would be.’

Josh lay for a while, staring at the ceiling. ‘They hate each other, don’t they?’

I put my hand on his shin, rubbed it a little. ‘I don’t think it’s really hate. Just leftover hurt. And that comes
from loving someone. What you’ve got to remember is that they did love each other once, when they had you.’

‘Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be allowed to see her now, am I?’

‘Do you want to see her?’

‘I don’t know. Not right at this moment, I don’t. Not after what she’s done. But she’s still my mum.’

‘I understand that.’

‘I’ve never seen her like that before. I don’t ever want to drink, if that’s what it does to you.’

‘It doesn’t do that to everyone. It’s only if you don’t know when to stop. Or if you use it to try to blot out your problems.’

‘You think she’s got problems?’

‘I think most people have.’

Josh sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. ‘The text was from her boyfriend, wasn’t it?’

‘I imagine so. Though he doesn’t seem much of a boyfriend.’

‘I don’t know why people bother with relationships, if it makes them that unhappy.’

‘I’ll remind you of that one day,’ I said.

‘It’s true. It only ever seems to lead to rows.’

‘Not for everyone. Tom seems very happy with Alicia.’

‘Yeah, but they’ve only been going out for a bit. And they’re still at that sick-making lovey-dovey stage. Wait till they have some big fallout and I have to put up with Tom being a miserable git for weeks.’

I smiled at him, wanting to say the ‘Better to have loved
and lost’ line but deciding I’d sound way too much like a relationship counsellor if I did.

‘Are you sure you won’t come down for some Christmas pudding?’ I asked.

Josh shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I’m really not hungry.’

‘You’ll come down later, though? For the film. Matilda will complain like mad if you’re not there, and she’ll end up making us all watch
Santa Paws
again.’

‘OK,’ said Josh.

When I got back downstairs the pudding was ready, and Barbara was about to dish up.

‘Is Josh not joining us?’ she asked.

I shook my head.

‘She should never have been allowed anywhere near him,’ Barbara said.

‘I’m sorry. I had no idea it would turn out like this.’

‘The trouble with nice people like you,’ said Barbara, taking my hand and patting it, ‘is you don’t seem to realise how horrible other people can be.’

‘She’s his mother, Barbara. She deserved a chance.’

‘No,’ said Barbara, her eyes stern, the corners of her mouth for once neutral. ‘You’re more of a mother than she ever was. Blood means nothing in the end, you know. Not compared to love.’

Matilda came running through to the kitchen with a princess glove puppet on her hand.

‘Look,’ said Matilda. ‘She got me another puppet.’

Chris was standing behind her in the doorway. I could practically hear his skin bristling.

‘That’s nice, love,’ I said.

‘When are you going to open yours?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. Let’s not worry about that now, eh? Pop that down and come and have some Christmas pudding.’

* * *

Josh came down for tea later. I told him we’d have turkey sandwiches while watching the film. Anything to avoid sitting around the kitchen table again and pretending everything was OK.

He chose
Finding Nemo
. It had been his favourite film when he was a kid. I think he’d related to the fact that Nemo, like him, didn’t have a mum.

I remembered watching it with him and Chris at the cinema not long after we’d got married. Wondering where the hell I was going to fit into a family with a father and son relationship as tight as the one we were watching on screen. And knowing at the point where Marlin and Nemo had been reunited, and I’d turned to see Chris sitting with tears rolling down his cheeks, that whatever he felt for me, it was nothing compared to the love he felt for his son.

Chris took a deep breath as Josh loaded the DVD. I wasn’t sure he’d be up to watching it either, but I knew we couldn’t say anything. It met all the criteria. Matilda loved it too.

And I sensed that Josh had chosen it specially. It was his cinematic equivalent of daubing everyone with antiseptic.

Matilda cuddled up between me and Josh on the sofa. The curtains were drawn. The door firmly shut. Our family was safe now.

‘Can you fast-forward the bit at the beginning?’ she asked.

I knew which bit she meant, of course. The bit where the barracuda came along and ate Coral and all the eggs, bar Nemo.

Josh nodded and hit the fast-forward button.

It was as if Coral had never existed. And I wished like hell you could do that in real life.

* * *

‘I’m sorry,’ I said when Chris returned from dropping Barbara back home later that night.

He said nothing, simply took his boots off, hung up his jacket and walked through to the kitchen. I followed him, shutting the door behind me in case anyone upstairs was still awake.

‘I mean it. I’m really sorry. I didn’t think –’

‘No,’ said Chris, turning to face me, ‘because you wouldn’t listen to me.’

‘I did listen.’

‘Well, you didn’t take any notice of what I said.’

‘I was trying to make the best of a bad hand. I didn’t want you and Matilda to be upset if Josh went to hers for lunch.’

‘But we were only in that situation to start with because you wanted to give Lydia a second chance.’

‘For Josh’s sake, yes.’

‘And Josh is happy now, is he? This has all worked out for the best?’

I sighed. ‘I said I’m sorry. What more do you want me to do?’

‘To stop doing it.’

‘What?’

‘Trying to mend people. Couples, families, whatever. Not everyone can be mended, you know.’

‘So what, I’m supposed to let people carry on hating each other?’

‘Yes, if that’s what they want to do.’

‘But what about Josh? He didn’t hate his mother. Not really. It was simply that he’d never had the chance to get to know her.’

‘Because she ran off and left him. Shit happens, Ali. And sometimes you just have to leave it alone.’

He walked over to the sink, staring out of the mullioned windows into the darkness beyond. I sat down at the kitchen table and held my head in my hands. I tried very hard not to cry. But I’d already been trying very hard not to cry for most of the day. Chris came over to me and rubbed my shoulders. Kissed me on the top of my head.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have had a go at you. Only this whole thing has done my head in.’

‘No, you’re right,’ I said. ‘I guess I do like to try to fix things.’

‘The thing is,’ said Chris, ‘you had no idea what you were dealing with.’

‘How could I? You won’t talk about her. There’s so much I don’t know. So many gaps that need filling in.’

‘No,’ said Chris. ‘They don’t. It’s the past, and you have
to leave it there. I drew a line under it when I married you, and I don’t want to go raking it all back up again. You’re my family now. You and Josh and Matilda, and that’s all that matters. And when I said I didn’t want Josh to have anything to do with her, it was because I knew he’d end up getting hurt again. And as it turned out, it wasn’t just him but Matilda too.’

‘I know, and I feel awful about that. But it was a no-win situation.’

‘Well, at least we haven’t got to worry about him seeing her again now he knows exactly what she’s capable of.’

‘I think it’s too early to say that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s pretty mad at her right now, but I’m not sure he’s ready to say goodbye to her either.’

‘He hasn’t got any choice. Mum was right. She’s not coming anywhere near our family again. And none of our family are going anywhere near her.’

‘That’s easier said than done. He’s sixteen, Chris. He goes out on his own. He’s got a mobile, he goes online. We can’t do some Big Brother thing on him.’

‘No, but he can be told very clearly that he’s not to have any contact with her. And we can explain what the consequences will be if he doesn’t go along with that.’