I look out of the kitchen window. In the garden, everyone is building a snowman together. Even Mum and Dad are joining in. So I wrap up warm, find a carrot in the fridge and take out a hat and a scarf and some gloves to dress our latest addition. He’s a bonny snowman. The family have done a good job.
Outside, I take Tom to one side and say quietly, ‘Mali and the boys have gone.’
‘Oh, great,’ he says. Not quite the reaction I expected. ‘Would you mind if I call Chris and see if he wants to come over later?’
‘Chris?’
‘The guy I met last night.’
Seems like his broken heart is soon mended. Oh, well. I shrug. ‘Why not?’
‘Cheers, Mum.’ He wanders off, pulling out his mobile as he goes. Looks like we may yet have another visitor before the day is out.
Lisa is brushing snow from her daughter’s hair. ‘Have you had a nice day?’ I ask. ‘Dramas aside?’
‘It’s been lovely,’ Lisa says. ‘It would have been so boring to be by ourselves.’
‘Yes. That’s one thing I can say about this house. It’s never boring.’
‘I promised myself that one day, I’d give Izzy the best Christmas I could,’ she says. ‘But you’ve done that for me, Juliet.’
‘It’s been my pleasure to have you both here. She’s a lovely little girl. You should be very proud of her.’
She grins, suddenly bashful.
I smile at her. ‘You seem to be getting on very well with Merak.’
‘He’s really nice,’ she says shyly.
‘We love him to bits,’ I tell her. ‘He’s like family.’
‘Then he’s a very lucky man.’
I slip my arm round her shoulder. ‘Why don’t you stay here for a bit longer?’ I suggest. ‘If you can put up with us. I don’t want you going home to a cold house. Stay here for the rest of the holiday.’
‘That would be great,’ she says. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘It might be a tight squeeze, but we’ll manage. Jaden will be company for Izzy. I’ll get Rick to run you home tomorrow to pick up some more things.’
‘Would you like that, Izzy?’ she asks. The little girl nods excitedly.
‘Then that’s agreed,’ I say.
‘Merry Christmas, Juliet. Thank you so much.’
‘Merry Christmas to you too.’
The snowman is just about finished, and Rick lifts Jaden onto his shoulders so that he can put the knitted hat onto his head. Rick fixes his carrot nose and Tom winds the stripy scarf round his neck. He’s given two sturdy twigs as arms, and Dad slots the gloves onto each one. We use stones for his eyes and his mouth and three for the buttons on his tum.
‘He’s smiley,’ Jaden says. ‘Happy.’
Mum stands and looks at him in awe. She claps her hands together. ‘We should call him Samuel,’ she says brightly.
Everyone freezes and there’s a moment of silence, then Dad says, ‘That’s a lovely idea, Rita. Samuel the snowman.’
The snow continues to fall and Christmas Day is nearly over now. And I think we’ve come through it relatively unscathed. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that I can’t wait until next year.
Chapter Eighty-Six
We’ve all thawed out from playing in the snow. Now every radiator in the house has drying coats and socks on it. We’ve eaten ham sandwiches, Christmas cake and a fairly good dent has been made in the bowl of tangerines. Most of the nuts and the dates have gone, and I’ve even forced down a bit of stollen.
‘No one likes stollen, Juliet,’ Rick says, pulling a face as he tastes it. ‘I don’t even know what it is. Next year, don’t bother to get any.’
‘It’s not Christmas without it,’ I point out. It’s like saying don’t get a turkey or Brussels sprouts. It’s what you have at Christmas. But I have another year to think about that. My thoughts, instead, turn to more pressing matters. ‘Now, where are we all going to sleep tonight?’
Tom’s new friend, Chris, has arrived and seems like a much better choice of partner than Mali, I have to say. Chris is tall, blond and rather handsome. His clothing is suitable for the occasion and, more importantly, he doesn’t have two borderline aggressive children in tow. He’s slipped seamlessly into the day, despite being a late starter.
‘Who’s that?’ Mum wants to know. ‘Do I know him?’
‘That’s Chris,’ I tell her. ‘Tom’s friend.’
‘Where’s that woman gone who was with him? The one who had the fat children and wanted to show everyone what she’d had for breakfast?’
‘She’s gone home.’ Thankfully.
‘Oh.’
It’s no wonder she’s confused sometimes. I have trouble keeping up myself.
My mother knocks back yet another advocaat. She holds out her skirt and starts to sing ‘If I Ruled The World’ to the Christmas tree. And why not? Dad is snoozing in the corner. He must be absolutely exhausted by now. The way things are going, he might end up spending the night on that sofa. An ancient repeat of The Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show is on the television playing to no one in particular. Angela Rippon’s high kicks are, I’m afraid, completely wasted on the Joyce household. Robin has finally reappeared. I did wonder whether he’d ever come down out of our bathroom, or if he was going to spend the rest of his life up there. He’s looking scrubbed and polished and slightly strange in Rick’s clothes. He’s also looking rather more subdued than previously.
He comes over to Tom. ‘I would just like to apologise,’ Robin says. ‘I behaved appallingly.’
‘No worries.’ Tom sneaks a sideways glance at Chris. ‘I’ve moved on.’
I have no idea if Robin realises quite how well. But then he might just understand, as Robin didn’t seem to spend too long mourning the hasty departure of his wife.
As we move away from Tom, I slip him Mali’s business card. ‘She asked me to give this to you.’
‘Oh, my word,’ Robin says, and hurriedly secretes it in his pocket. ‘Thank you, Juliet.’
I have no idea if he’ll call her, but I think he’ll need some luck if he does. And his large bank account may come in handy.
‘Can I just say that you have been the perfect host. Even if I haven’t been the perfect guest.’
‘It’s been lovely having you here, Robin.’ And it has. Sort of. At least, all’s well that ends well.
Jaden and Izzy are now firm friends, and are ready for bed in their pyjamas. All I have to do is allocate everyone beds.
‘Chloe, can you squeeze Mitch and the two children into your room?’
She shrugs. It’ll be tight, but there’s not much else she can do, really.
‘Mum can stay where she is.’
‘What?’ Mum wants to know.
‘Nothing.’ I don’t want to put Dad in with her because, although he’s doing a grand job of looking after her, they’re not a couple any more – even though Mum seems to have forgotten this. ‘Dad, you can go in our room.’
‘Righty-oh, love.’
‘Lisa and Izzy, you can have the spare bedroom. It’s not big, but there’s a single bed in there and we can find a blow-up mattress. It’s not ideal, but I hope it’ll be all right for a few nights.’
‘Juliet,’ Lisa says. ‘Anywhere is better than where we’ve been living. I’d sleep on the floor here and be happy.’
‘I’m afraid the honour of the floor is going to Tom and Chris. That’s if you’re staying over?’
When they both nod that they are, I say, ‘Rick, you need to go and get the air mattresses out of the loft.’
My husband looks thrilled by the prospect. ‘Any idea where they might be?’
‘No, but they’re up there somewhere. You’ll find them.’ I’m only hoping that I’ve got enough bedding to go round.
‘Robin, would you mind taking the sofa?’
‘I can go home, Juliet,’ he says. ‘I feel that I’ve perhaps overstayed my welcome.’
‘What nonsense.’
‘I can easily c
all a taxi.’
‘On Christmas night? No. I won’t hear of it,’ I tell him. ‘You’re not going home to an empty house.’
‘Sofa it is, then,’ he agrees.
‘Merak, do you mind going on the futon in the dining room?’
‘That is fine, Juliet,’ he says. ‘I am very grateful.’
‘Good. That’s it.’ Excellent. ‘All sorted.’ Phew. That wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought. I had visions of someone having to share Buster’s bed.
‘You’ve forgotten just one thing,’ Rick says.
I give him a puzzled glance.
‘Exactly where are we going to sleep?’
Chapter Eighty-Seven
The clock ticks towards midnight, and that’s it. Christmas Day is over for yet another year. My twenty-seventh as a wife and mother. And, perhaps, one of the most memorable.
‘Comfortable?’ Rick asks.
‘Very.’ I turn to him, his face illuminated by the flashing of the pink HO-HO-HO. ‘This is a very well-appointed shed.’
We have the fan heater on in here, so it’s cosily warm. I also have the hot-water bottle that Rick bought me out here, a most useful present after all. Rick has brought out a bottle of champagne and we’ve enjoyed a couple of glasses together in a rare moment of peace and quiet.
He snuggles up towards me on the sunlounger laid out right next to mine. ‘You realise that this is probably the closest we’re going to get to a romantic break away for some considerable time?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We’re going to be busy with Chloe and the baby. But she is lovely, isn’t she?’
‘Beautiful.’
‘She’ll always be special to us,’ I say. ‘We helped bring her into the world.’
‘And we’ll help her throughout her life.’
‘We will.’
‘You were great today,’ Rick says. He strokes my face in the darkness. ‘Thanks for taking care of Lisa and Izzy too.’
‘They were no trouble at all. I’ve asked them to stay over the holidays,’ I tell him. ‘I thought you could run them home quickly tomorrow to pick up some more of their belongings.’
‘I can’t stand the idea of them going back to that freezing-cold house.’
‘We’ll help her to sort something out. Don’t worry.’ Then, ‘Chloe says that she’s going back to Mitch’s flat tomorrow. We’ll have a spare room for a while.’
‘Chloe won’t go home tomorrow,’ Rick says. ‘Not when there’s a pile of food here. They’ll stay for a few more days yet.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘I want them to stay,’ Rick says. ‘There’s nothing like having all the family around at Christmas. And a few extras.’ He sighs contentedly. ‘I was thinking, when they do go, Merak could have the spare room.’
‘If you don’t mind not having a dining room, we could convert that into a bedroom permanently, too. That should just about house everyone.’
‘I thought when Chloe and Tom were older we’d be rattling around in this place. I didn’t reckon on starting again with a whole new family.’
‘Then there’s Mum and Dad too,’ I remind him. ‘Mum needs permanent care now, but I couldn’t see her go into a home. It may come to that, eventually. But I couldn’t do it just yet.’
‘No.’
‘I don’t want Dad to go home and be by himself, either. I think he’s missing Samuel more than he shows.’ I think again of him crying alone in the garden, and my heart weeps with him. ‘I’d like him here with us.’
Rick thinks on it for a moment, then says, ‘We could sell your mum and dad’s house. Use the money to build an extension over the garage and make a little annexe for them. Do you think they’d be up for that?’
‘That sounds like a good idea. I’m sure they would.’
‘We could probably squeeze in two bedrooms and a bathroom up there.’
‘I’d like that. I’ll talk to Dad tomorrow, see if he’s agreeable.’
‘Your dad’s always agreeable, Juliet. My bet is that he won’t mind at all.’
‘Thanks, Rick.’ I love the idea of having both of my parents here under my watchful eye.
‘It’s been a good Christmas,’ Rick muses.
‘One of the best.’ We’ve had a death, a birth, an engagement, a possible new romance, a potential new business liaison, have narrowly avoided food poisoning and witnessed a pond-dunking. And both my car and Rick’s van are crumpled wrecks. As is the garage door. In my joy, I nearly forgot about that. Well, you can’t say it hasn’t been interesting.
‘Shall we settle down?’ Rick says. ‘We’re going to be feeding the five thousand again tomorrow.’
‘I never mind that. Good job I bought in extra.’ There’s a pile of sausages and bacon in the fridge, and two dozen fresh eggs. The toaster will be working overtime.
I turn to my husband and kiss him.
‘What’s that for?’
‘For a lovely Christmas.’ Then I wriggle in as close as I can. ‘I’ve never made love on a sunlounger,’ I tell him.
‘Me neither.’
‘I’m not all that tired.’
Rick laughs. ‘Me neither.’
My husband shimmies over and I climb onto his sunlounger with him. It’s a good job that we spent a bit extra and went for the super-duper luxury ones rather than the Argos budget ones we’d first looked at. We slide our bodies together and cuddle up. After all this time, they instinctively know how to mould perfectly. Our dips and curves fit each other’s like a jigsaw.
‘Merry Christmas, Juliet. Here’s to many more together.’
I look back at the house through the shed window: our home. It’s all in darkness, and looks still and settled for the night. Calm. A blanket of stars twinkles above it. Fine snowflakes flutter onto the garden. I think of our family and friends nestling down inside, and feel a peace in my heart.
If I could reach our champagne without upsetting the sunlounger, then I’d be tempted to propose a toast. A toast to love. A toast to family. A toast to being kind to each other. But, as that seems highly unlikely, I kiss Rick and, instead, just say, ‘Merry Christmas, love.’
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Carole Matthews, With Love at Christmas
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