The A&E department is horrendously busy even at this hour. As it’s December, it’s mainly full of drunks who’ve had way too much Christmas spirit – probably at office parties – and I don’t know how the staff bear it. They must be glad to see the back of Christmas. Despite the scrum, Lija is quickly taken through to a cubicle to see a doctor. I stay with her, holding her hand, until the young doctor arrives. He has a lovely calm air about him and I can see Lija relax visibly.
‘Now then,’ he says. ‘I hear you’ve been doing some impromptu ice skating.’
‘Was very stupid,’ Lija says tearfully.
‘Well, let’s see what the damage is. I’m sure it’s worse than it looks.’
I can only hope that he’s right. While the doctor examines her, I step outside the cubicle. In the corridor, I call Danny.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I’m going to be here late tonight. Still up to my elbows in grease. Don’t cook for me.’
‘I’m at the hospital,’ I tell him. ‘Lija’s had a fall. She slipped on the ice.’
‘Is she all right?’ Even down the poor phone line, I can hear the concern in his voice.
‘I hope so. She landed heavily on her back and started bleeding. We’re worried that she’s losing the baby.’
‘Oh no. How is she coping?’
‘She’s tearful. Hoping that it’s a false alarm.’
‘Poor Lija. Do you want me to finish up here and go back to the house?’
‘Rainbow’s taking care of everything. Bless her, she’s a good girl.’
‘Just call me if you need me. Keep me posted. I’ll leave as soon as I know you’re coming back.’
However, I don’t get back until much, much later. They keep Lija in hospital overnight for observation and we have a long wait for a bed. She is terrified.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I assure her. ‘The doctor said this was just a precaution. There’s been no more bleeding. Better to lie here for a while than to come home and be worried.’ I stroke her hair.
‘I thought that I would be a very bad mother,’ she sniffles. ‘But now I do not want to lose my baby, Fay. I’ve been foolish.’
‘All of this is a shock,’ I sympathise. ‘First, finding out that you’re pregnant, then all the stuff with the house and the flood. It’s enough to bring anyone to the end of their tether.’
‘I cannot do it by myself,’ she says. ‘I need you, Fay. But what are you to me? Nice friend, yes. That is all. You are not even my sister.’
‘It’s probably pertinent to point out that you’re a lot closer to me than my actual sister.’
‘She is total cow,’ Lija readily agrees.
We both laugh. ‘We’re an odd little family – you, me, Danny, Stan and now Rainbow – but we’ll make it work for us. Danny and I are both really excited about your baby. We’ll be the best auntie and uncle he or she could have.’
‘You are kind person.’
‘Have you told your family in Latvia yet?’
She shakes her head. ‘I have not been in touch for many years. I moved here to get away. I do not want to go back there.’
‘You might feel differently when the baby’s born.’
‘I must make preparations,’ she says. ‘No longer can I hide head in sand.’
‘Let’s get Christmas over with first and then we can really set to.’
She smiles a little at that.
‘Try to have a good night’s sleep. I’ll be back first thing in the morning with some toiletries and clean clothes. I’ll keep my phone on all night too. Ring me if there’s anything you need or even if you just want a chat. I’ll probably be awake worrying about you, anyway.’
‘OK,’ she says, still gripping onto my hand.
‘I’ll stay if you want me to.’
‘Go. Go. I will be fine.’
So I kiss her forehead and head for home. I call a taxi and text Danny to say that I’m on my way. I take care as I walk down the garden to the boat as it’s still freezing out here and we don’t want another trip to A&E tonight.
When I climb aboard The Dreamcatcher I feel my soul settle. It’s been a difficult night and I hope beyond hope that Lija’s baby is going to be fine and that all she has to show for her ordeal is some cracking bruises. The cabin is warm and the kettle is already boiling. When Danny sees me, he opens his arms and I walk straight into them.
He strokes my hair. ‘You look all in.’
‘It’s been a stressful few hours, but I think she’s all right now.’
‘The baby?’
‘We’ll have to wait and see. They’re going to watch her overnight and give her an ultrasound scan in the morning. I hope to God everything’s going to be OK.’
‘Me too.’
He makes us tea and we sit on the sofa nursing it quietly, both of us lost in our thoughts – my mind still on Lija and the baby in the hospital.
Eventually, I turn to Danny. ‘Penny for them.’
He sighs. ‘I’ve been thinking that I should go down to London this weekend, pick up with some old contacts, see if there’s any work around.’
‘But you love being at the boatyard.’
‘It’s great,’ he admits. ‘However, what I earn isn’t going to keep both of us and help Lija out with the baby.’
‘You hated your old job. You hated what it did to you.’ When I first met Danny he’d escaped from his City job – call it burnout, or what you will. He felt it was destroying him and needed to get out. He was drinking heavily, dabbling with all manner of dodgy substances, living life in the fast lane and it was taking him to places that, morally, he wasn’t happy with. I don’t want him going back to that. ‘We live in our happy little bubble here on the canal. It would feel like real life encroaching again.’
‘I could earn more in a couple of months than I would in a year here. It’s worth thinking about. It would be more cost effective if I stayed down there in the week and came home at weekends.’
‘That sounds like a dreadful idea.’ I hold him tighter. ‘We’ll need you here.’
‘Hmm,’ he says. ‘How much do you need me?’
I laugh. ‘A lot.’
So he kisses me and takes my sadness away. We make love in our snuggly little bed in our cosy cabin. The cold winter frost has breathed all over the windows, but it can’t touch us in here. In here we’re safe and warm, protected from the world. And I never want that to change.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The next day, our dear Rainbow steps up to the plate and takes control of the café while I go sliding down the country lanes and into the city to collect Lija from the hospital.
I find her sitting waiting for me in the reception. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I have had ultrasound scan and have been given a date for my baby.’ She reels off a date. ‘It seems very real now.’
‘The baby’s not harmed?’
‘No. She is fine.’
‘A little girl?’
Lija nods proudly and I clap my hands with delight which extracts a reluctant smile from my friend.
‘The doctor says I must rest for few days.’
‘I’ll make sure that you do. Come on, let’s get you home.’ So I help her to the car and we drive back at a very sedate pace.
‘You will not make Jenson Button worried,’ Lija notes.
‘I don’t want to jiggle you and these lanes are lethal.’
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t make any further complaint. I crank the heating up in the car. Can’t have her getting cold either. The sun hasn’t even bothered to come out today. The sky is milky and a chill mist hangs low over the water and the garden.
At Canal House, Lija clings on to me as we walk to the kitchen and we both tense when we pass the spot where she slipped yesterday.
‘Sensible shoes for you from now on,’ I note.
‘You are going to get on my nerves,’ Lija snaps back.
Good to see that she’s feeling better.
Rainbow is so excited to see
us that she does a little dance. Her boobs and her curls bounce with joy. She’s Diggery in human form. I’d texted her from the hospital to let her know that Lija was doing OK.
‘OMG!’ she shouts. ‘You’re back.’
‘Yes, and we’re going to look after her. Pull out a chair, Rainbow.’ Lija sits down and I take her coat. ‘Rainbow and I can manage perfectly well today. You should go and have a lie down.’
‘I will.’
No protest. That’s progress.
‘Some brunch?’
Lija nods, gratefully.
We’ve got an hour or so until our first afternoon tea service and Rainbow has done a fantastic job of getting everything ready. Piles of sarnies on trays are stacked on the work surface. Today’s cakes are good to go. We have Christmas brownies topped with crushed amaretti biscuits, a sugared glacé cherry and a tiny chocolate truffle, plus a light honey and saffron Christmas cake. I could do with a slice of that myself. ‘What would you like?’
‘Bacon sandwich,’ Lija says brightly. ‘Am eating for two now.’
‘One bacon buttie coming up.’ Lija sits quietly listening to Rainbow’s chatter while I go about making it.
‘We can think about NAMES,’ Rainbow says. ‘What are you going to call her? GLITTER is a nice name.’
‘I am not calling flipping baby Glitter,’ Lija retorts.
‘Sparkle?’
‘No.’
‘Twinkle?’
‘No.’
‘Moonbeam?’
‘No.’
‘Bubbles? Ocean? Sunshine?’
‘No. No. No.’
A few minutes later, as I put Lija’s bacon sandwich on the table and the name issue is still unresolved, the back door swings open, letting in an icy blast. All our heads swivel in unison. To say that you could knock me down with a feather is an understatement.
Our visitor stands there, arms aloft, and shouts, ‘Surprise!’
It certainly is. We all look at our unexpected guest, stunned.
‘Well, say something!’
‘Omigod,’ I say, borrowing from Rainbow.
‘That will do for now.’ My sister walks into the kitchen and wraps her arms round me. ‘I thought I’d come for Christmas.’
‘Wow,’ is all I can manage. ‘Wow.’
Edie is looking thinner than ever. She’s wearing a white wrap coat – designer, no doubt – and red leather boots with heels as thin as needles. The suitcase at her feet is red leather too. Even I know the handbag over her arm would have cost more than I earn in a month – probably two. My sister always looks glossy, but there’s something brittle about her too. Whatever the opposite of soft and cuddly is, that’s Edie.
‘You don’t look pleased to see me,’ Edie notes. ‘Is this a bad time or something?’
‘Your timing is impeccable.’ As usual. ‘Of course I’m pleased to see you. A phone call or text would have been nice though.’
‘Spur of the moment,’ Edie says, picking up one of Lija’s bacon sarnies. My friend’s face darkens. ‘You know I like to be impulsive.’
I do. Only too well.
She flops down into a seat and proceeds to nibble at the bacon, discarding the bap. ‘I’m knackered. Jet lag is exhausting. I’m a woman not in my own time zone.’
I pour her some tea and she inspects it disdainfully. ‘I’m a coffee only girl.’ She wrinkles her nose. ‘That’s what comes of living in New York. I’ve gone native.’ Edie fluffs her long, auburn hair and strips off her white coat. She looks round for somewhere to hang it and, finding our cloakroom facilities lacking, she hands it to Rainbow. Without complaint, Rainbow rushes off to the coat pegs. ‘Any more bacon?’
Gritting my teeth, I put some more bacon under the grill. I should be pleased to see her, shouldn’t I? My own true family member coming all this way to see me for Christmas. Yet I can’t bring myself to say that I am. Instead, I ask, ‘Where are you staying?’
‘Here,’ she says, looking at me as if I’m mad for even asking the question.
‘In Lija’s house?’ I’m sure that even my thick-skinned sister will pick up the undertone in that. She was the one who inherited this house and then couldn’t wait to get rid of it. She sold the only home she’d ever known from under her own feet. And mine. Lija was the one who stepped in to save it.
‘Oh.’ Edie looks slightly put out. She turns to Lija. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ Lija says.
Edie looks as if she’s been slapped. I have to hide my smile. Lija’s never one to beat about the bush. Even before the house debacle, there’s never been any love lost between her and my sister.
‘We’ve had a flood,’ I interject before they start squaring up to each other. ‘The roof’s leaking and there are buckets everywhere upstairs catching drips. Your old bedroom is probably the worst affected.’
‘So where are you staying?’ my sister demands.
‘On The Dreamcatcher. That’s where I live.’
‘Oh.’ Edie takes a moment to compute that. ‘That’s where I’ll stay then.’
I let out a laugh. ‘Seriously? Have you any idea of the size of our spare cabin?’ Not to mention that it’s loaded up with our own stuff.
‘What else can I do?’
‘Check in to a hotel?’ Though even I realise that at this, the busiest time of the year, there may not be any room left at the inn.
Edie looks aghast. ‘You want me to spend Christmas in a hotel?’
‘You’re more than welcome to come and look at the room on the boat, but I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it.’ I glance at her designer suitcase. I’ve no idea where that thing will go.
‘It’ll be fine,’ Edie says, breezily. ‘I’m very adaptable.’
I hear my inward groan, but hope that I’ve not let it out. My sister is the most awkward and demanding person I know.
‘I’ll get Lija settled in bed and then I’ll take you down there.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Edie asks as if Lija’s not there.
‘It’s a long story,’ I explain. ‘I’ll fill you in later.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘You are kidding me?’ Edie says. She’s standing at the door to our spare – and very tiny – cabin.
‘I told you it was small.’ It’s also currently rammed full with stuff that we don’t know what else to do with.
‘Where will I put my case?’ Edie looks aghast. ‘Do you have a luggage room?’
I laugh. ‘No. Of course not. This isn’t the Ritz. What you see is what you get.’
She shakes her hair vehemently. ‘I can’t stay here.’
I shrug. ‘And you can’t stay with Lija either.’
‘You asked me to come,’ Edie reminds me. ‘On the phone. You said “Come for Christmas”.’ She puts on a whiney voice. ‘Now I’m here. Where did you think I was going to sleep?’
I have to admit that I didn’t give it too much thought as I imagined hell would have to freeze over before Edie actually came for Christmas. ‘I don’t know,’ I confess. ‘If you’d given me some warning, I might have had a plan.’ As it is, I don’t. ‘There are a few nice hotels in Milton Keynes which might still have some vacant rooms.’ I keep my fingers crossed behind my back. ‘Do you want me to call round for you?’
‘No, no,’ she says hastily. ‘It will be nicer to stay with you. I came here so that I could have a family Christmas.’ She glances disdainfully at the cabin again. ‘Even if it isn’t what I’m used to.’
The phrase ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’ isn’t far from my lips.
‘You’re going to move all this stuff out?’
‘Well.’ I look round at it. ‘I suppose so.’ Though quite where I’m going to put it, I’m not sure. The wardrobes in my old room are still full of my belongings and I hate to ask Lija for more storage space, but I’m not sure what else I can do. I think she’d rather have some of our excess baggage than Edie herself. ‘Are you really certain that this is your
best option?’
‘I always used to love our holidays on the Maid of Merryweather.’ She hugs me. ‘It will be just like old times.’
For the record, Edie was like Miranda: she hated every moment she spent on the narrowboat.
‘It’ll be fun,’ Edie says.
It won’t. I can tell you that now. I’m not sure where this swift turnaround has come from either but, in the spirit of Christmas and familial bonds, I decide that Edie can stay and we’ll make the best of it.
‘I’d better get settled in,’ she says, eyeing my piles of junk that currently grace the small, single cabin bed in a disdainful manner. ‘I need to wash the flight away. Can I have a shower?’
‘Yes, but you need to be quick. We have to ration water as it is, so no lingering in there. There’s no en suite either. You’ll have to share the one shower with us.’
She looks truly horrified. ‘You’re not selling this to me.’
‘I’m not actually trying to,’ I point out. ‘I’m sharing the realities of canal living.’
‘Joy,’ Edie says, sarcastically.
For now, I scoop up an armful of spare clothing – mainly our waterproof gear – and, while Edie watches on, dump it on the bed in our cabin.
‘Would you like to put the kettle on?’ I say as sweetly as I can manage. ‘There’s no room service here either.’
‘There’s no need to be facetious, Fay,’ my sister retorts but flounces into the galley and starts banging around in the cupboards.
Without her in the way, I move the rest of our gear out. The bed in here is very small – more like a bunk – and it’s a good job that Edie is petite. I think her feet would hang over the end if it wasn’t built into the wall. She’ll have to keep her case on the bed when she wants to move around, and put it on the floor at night. That’s how tight a squeeze it is. There’s one long, thin cupboard and another one that’s built over the bottom of the bed. There’s storage under the bunk too, but that’s rammed with tools for keeping the boat running and general maintenance so we can’t farm those out.
I can’t see Edie lasting long with us and, with all her money, I can’t see why she would want to stay in such cramped conditions. She could book into a penthouse or something. It’s nice that she wants to come back and spend a family Christmas with us for once – I can’t remember when last she did that, but I’m also annoyed that with everything else going on she didn’t think to give me any notice of her plans. The world always has to work round what Edie wants. Clearly, she had some romantic vision of what her return home would be like, but it’s not to be.