Staying Away at Christmas (4 page)

‘She does go to an all girls’ school,’ said Dan.

‘I meant out of school,’ said Anthony. ‘I’ve just remembered! There’s a bottle of port in that case of wine. I’ll get it.’

Aunt Flo may not have been much of a cook but her washing-up training must have been first class. The kitchen was clear in no time and Miranda was able to get her presents in from the car and retire to her bedroom. It was late, but she had a lot to do before she could go to bed. She’d have done it earlier in the evening if she hadn’t had to help look for Amy.

There was the briefest knock on her door and her daughters came in. ‘We’re going to do stockings for them,’ said Isa.

‘Though we can’t do one for Anthony,’ said Lulu. ‘Too hard.’

‘And he doesn’t believe in them anyway,’ said Isa. ‘But Amy must have one. Poor little thing. She must have been terrified on her own, before you found her.’

‘And we can’t leave Dan out,’ said Lulu.

Having had a think, Miranda said, ‘OK. I’ve wrapped up what I’ve got for your stockings but I can’t remember what the things are. Except they will all be girly.’

‘We’ll just have to unwrap everything to see what we’ve got. We’ll do Dan first as he’s the hard one. Amy is easy,’ said Isa, taking control.

Miranda watched as her girls opened the packages, tossing anything remotely male into a pile. They seemed to be enjoying this as much – or possibly more – as having the things for themselves.

‘It would be better if we didn’t try and fill the usual stockings,’ said Miranda. ‘I’ve got a couple of pairs of new socks. They won’t take so much filling.’

‘Good plan, Mum,’ said Lulu.

‘Can you get them?’ said Isa. ‘When we’ve done Dan’s we can easily do the others.’

Miranda found herself sacrificing her new toothbrush (after she’d found her old one was still in her washbag) and Isa came up with a face flannel. A lot of what Miranda put in her children’s stockings was edible and useful but Isa declared she would not put facial scrub into Dan’s stocking.

‘It’s unisex,’ said Lulu. ‘Boys get spots too.’

‘Of course they do!’ said Isa angrily. ‘But we don’t want to draw attention to it! They’ve got, like, feelings!’

‘I know!’ said Miranda after they’d sat in silence for a few minutes. ‘There was a little bottle of
truffle
oil I meant to give to Grandpa but forgot. I’m fairly sure it’s still in with the groceries I haven’t unpacked yet.’

‘Perfecto!’ said Isa. ‘Go and get it.’

‘Please!’ said Lulu.

Isa gave Miranda the lopsided smile that so often got her out of trouble.

Miranda went into the kitchen. The Berkleys were all watching television and didn’t notice her rummaging in her box. She found the little bottle and went back to her bedroom.

‘OK,’ said Isa, after the girls had wrapped and filled Dan’s stocking. ‘Do you mind going out for a bit, Mum? We’ve got things to do.’

‘But this is my bedroom!’

‘I know, but currently it’s Christmas Central,’ said Lulu. ‘Out!’

Obediently, she left the room.

Much later, Miranda hung four, fat, red socks on the mantelpiece and admired the effect. The room was all so Christmassy, partly thanks to Sheila’s tree and decorations, but also because someone had lit a Christmas candle and the smell lingered. The fairy lights had been left on and it almost did look like a
magazine
Christmas. She smiled. It was all going to be very different but it was going to be fun. Having turned off the fairy lights, she went back to bed.

Miranda was awoken the next day by Lulu and the smell of cooking. She looked at her watch. It was half-past nine. It was unheard of for her to sleep this late, but she had been really tired.

Lulu was holding a cup of tea. ‘Get up, Mum! There’s breakfast and we’re all waiting for you.’

Miranda sat up and took the tea. She could smell cooking but couldn’t identify it. ‘So what are we having?’

‘Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. I don’t think I like smoked salmon do I?’

‘You might like it now.’

‘I’ll try it. Now hurry up.’

‘Should I get dressed? Is everyone dressed?’

Lulu thought about it. ‘Yes, but you don’t have to be. You’ll be ages and we can’t start anything until you get there. Just wear your dressing gown.’

Miranda’s dressing gown was new, a Christmas present from her mother, she had chosen it herself. ‘Oh, OK.’

She took the time to fluff up her hair and put on enough make-up to feel human, and went into the kitchen. She couldn’t remember a Christmas that had started with a cup of tea and breakfast cooked by someone else. Her ex could hardly make toast.

Anthony was by the cooker. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he said, apron on and smiling. A million miles away from the man she’d first encountered yesterday afternoon.

‘Happy Christmas back,’ she said, aware that she was happy. It was all so different from the usual disappointments that Christmas sometimes brought with it. She didn’t need a husband today.

‘I have a very limited repertoire,’ said Anthony, indicating the saucepan he was stirring eggs in, ‘but what I can do, I do well.’

Dan was buttering toast. The table had been set and someone had lit the wood burner. Miranda checked to see the stockings wouldn’t be scorched when she noticed there were now five. A silver spangled sock sat fatly beside its scarlet companions. She smiled.

‘More tea or coffee?’ demanded Dan.

‘Tea. Milk, no sugar. I don’t much like coffee.’

‘Coming up.’

‘He works in a restaurant sometimes,’ explained Amy, bringing in a plate full of toast. ‘I couldn’t find a toast rack.’

‘That’s OK.’ Miranda could have told her where to find the toast rack but something about Amy suggested she was expecting criticism and she didn’t want to imply that toast on a plate wasn’t fine.

Dan then swooped in with three plates of scrambled eggs, one of them balanced on his arm. Anthony came in with two more and Lulu brought the last one. ‘This is mine,’ she explained, ‘with no smoked salmon.’

Miranda realised that Anthony must have cooked hers separately and appreciated the gesture.

‘OK everybody, eat it before it gets cold,’ he said. Having just sat down he got up again. ‘Talking of cold, I have some fizz. Glass of fizz, Miranda?’

‘Oh yes please,’ she said. This was getting better and better.

‘With or without orange juice?’

‘Without.’

‘Kids, you have to have it with. Lulu? Do you like Buck’s Fizz?’

‘Never had it,’ said Lulu, obviously impressed.

‘But you like orange juice?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said enthusiastically.

Anthony was very skilful with the champagne and orange juice, Miranda realised. He adjusted the amount of each to suit each person. Amy, the youngest, had orange juice with just a splash of fizz, enough to be festive but not enough to make her drunk. Isa, she decided, had probably had a touch too much fizz when she clapped her hands. ‘Stockings!’

‘We don’t do stockings –’ said Anthony.

‘We do,’ said Isa, ‘but I’m afraid you haven’t got one.’

‘They are only for the children,’ Miranda hurriedly explained, and then found herself presented with the sparkly sock. ‘Oh.’

‘This year we did one for you,’ explained Lulu. ‘And for Amy and Dan.’

‘Cool,’ said Dan, looking at his, slightly perplexed.

‘Can we open them now?’ asked Amy.

‘ ’Course,’ said Lulu.

‘We should all open them together,’ said Isa. ‘Otherwise it’s embarrassing.’

There was a short silence broken by the sound of rustling and paper ripping.

‘Thank you so much for this, girls,’ said Miranda, undoing a little packet. It had a box of false
eyelashes
. ‘Oh goodness. I have no idea how to put them on.’

‘Wait until after brekkie, Mum, I’ll show you,’ said Isa, undoing some heart-shaped Post-it notes.

‘These are lovely!’ said Amy, holding up a pair of earrings Miranda had bought for Lulu.

‘I have a toothbrush and some soap,’ said Dan, although he didn’t seem to mind.

‘Don’t forget to eat,’ said Anthony.

‘We usually open stockings in Mum’s bed,’ said Lulu.

‘It might have been a bit much, us all piling in,’ said Dan. ‘We haven’t known each other twenty-four hours, yet.’

Maybe it was the champagne, or the unexpectedness about everything, but breakfast was extremely jolly. When she’d initiated clearing up afterwards, Miranda said, ‘Presents?’

‘Actually,’ said Dan, ‘if you don’t mind, I’d really like to crack on with lunch?’

This was a bit a shock. ‘Aren’t I doing lunch?’ said Miranda.

Dan shook his head. ‘Na-uh. You didn’t even buy a turkey. We’ve brought one from home that’s been in brine. I’ve had enough sawdust turkeys.’

‘Dan is very foodie,’ said Amy, apologetically.

‘I even brought my own knives.’ Seeing Miranda’s bemusement he went on, ‘I read that in Elizabeth David – always take your own knife on holiday.’ He grinned.

Miranda stared at him for a few seconds thinking he was very strange but rather wonderful. ‘Oh, no, that’s fine!’ she said. ‘I don’t mind not cooking it, I’m just falling into my default position. But I’m very happy to be galley slave and do the potatoes and things.’

She looked at Anthony for guidance.

He shook his head. ‘I think the kids want to do it.’

‘It is quite boring hanging round waiting for dinner,’ said Isa.

‘Oh,’ said Miranda, not sure if she was offended or not. ‘But you’ve got your presents to play with?’

‘Mum!’ said Isa, as if her mother was just the stupidest person on earth and shouldn’t even attempt to make a joke.

‘I’m going to be sous chef,’ said Amy.

‘I’ll be in charge of sticking plasters,’ said Lulu.

‘And what shall I do?’ asked Miranda.

‘We’ll go for a walk, in the direction of a pub, and leave this lot to it,’ said Anthony. ‘It’s OK, Dan’s a very good cook and a tyrant in the kitchen. And Amy has promised faithfully not to leave home without telling us again. We’ll come back in a couple of hours.’

While Miranda was getting dressed, including finding her thick socks and scarf, she lured Isa into her bedroom. ‘Are you sure you’re OK with this? Cooking your own Christmas dinner?’

‘Mum! I’m not a child. I can help Dan cook.’

Miranda opened her mouth and then closed it. It wouldn’t do to ask Isa if she fancied Dan. She was fairly sure she did or she wouldn’t be so obliging and helpful. ‘OK, just checking.’

It took Miranda some emotional effort to leave a house full of children cooking Christmas lunch. She couldn’t decide if it was a wrench or a liberation. It kept her silent for the first part of the walk, which, as it was uphill, was probably a good thing. Although it was lovely to be outside. It was frosty and cold but the
sun
was shining, giving the day a proper Christmas sparkle.

‘Which way?’ asked Anthony. ‘You know the area.’

‘Over the fields and down to the shoreline. It means another walk uphill home but if we’re going to eat a huge meal it’s probably a good thing.’

‘I hope you don’t mind Dan taking over. He’s really interested in food and cooking and my sister is very territorial about her kitchen. Men are only allowed in to wash up.’

Miranda didn’t answer immediately. ‘I don’t think I mind at all. After all, even if it’s a disaster – and I’m sure it won’t be – it’s not like in the olden days when it was one of the few good meals to be had.’

‘It won’t be a disaster – he’s a very good cook – but you’re right. My sister thinks the sky will fall in if the gravy isn’t perfect.’

Miranda nodded. ‘Actually I’m a bit fixated on gravy myself. It took me so long to learn how to make it, now I have, I get grumpy if I don’t think it’s perfect.’ She paused. ‘But only if I’ve made it. I’m very tolerant of other people’s cooking.’

‘I think something very bad would happen to my sister if Dan was allowed to cook the Christmas meal,’ said Anthony. He paused. ‘Miranda, I haven’t thanked
you
properly for finding Amy. I was beside myself. As you’ve gathered she’s run away before. I never know if I should be furious or just desperately relieved when I find her.’

‘So which are you?’

‘Both! The first time I’d sent her off to school with some other children and their mum and she just came home and hid in the garage. The cleaning lady found her. She did it again a bit later and last time we had a very long talk about how worrying it was and I thought I’d convinced her not to do it any more.’

‘She said it was because she hates rows. You and Dan –’

There was a short silence. ‘Ah. It’s tough to be a parent of a teenager without rows.’

Miranda sighed. ‘Tell me about it!’

‘I do try and accommodate Dan as much as I can – which was another reason why I didn’t want to go to my sister’s this year. It wasn’t fair on him. But he can be really stubborn sometimes.’

As Miranda remembered the main reason he hadn’t gone to his sister’s was because his sister had laid on an eligible female, she found herself laughing. ‘It was a bit “out of the frying pan” though, wasn’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, you didn’t go because your sister’s friend was also invited and so you arranged to go away. And then you were forced to share a house with exactly the sort of person you’d travelled miles to avoid. Not that I’m all that eligible, too old and with baggage, but you must see the irony.’

Anthony chuckled, a little reluctantly. ‘I’m not against meeting people in the ordinary way – by accident almost – but I hate being set up. Do you get set up by your friends who assume you must want another partner?’

Still giggling Miranda said, ‘No chance. There are very few single men about you know. It’s a quirk of nature, when men get divorced they find women ten years younger than themselves. A woman my age would only be able to aspire to a man in his late fifties or sixties. Nothing wrong with them, I’m sure, but frankly I’d rather not bother.’

‘Is that true?’ This seemed a revelation to Anthony.

‘Yup. My ex-husband’s wife is ten years younger than me.’

‘And how old is she?’

‘Anthony! That is the same as asking me how old I am, which is very rude.’