Bloody Mary (39 page)

The nurses swooned over his boyish good looks, his darkened skin, the black hair that littered his arms, the stilted English with a Mediterranean accent, and, just as the staff at the Hospital General de Muro had done, everybody loved his genuine delight at life. He settled in to the long hours, working hard, and playing hard on his rare evenings off, anything to keep his mind from returning to Sophie.

As time went by, and with plenty of pep talks from Harry over a few pints, he began to understand her reasons for having to say goodbye to Darren, but not enough to accept how badly she’d treated him after all he’d left behind for her. He had women and girls throwing themselves at him wherever he went, but politely dismissed every offer. He just wasn’t ready, and he doubted he’d ever find a woman who would strike him as hard as when he first saw Sophie, injured and vulnerable, innocent and beautiful.

If only he knew what she’d become in the absence of hope.

Sophie had found it harder to find a job than she’d anticipated. With the economical climate being poor, dipping into a recession, firms were firing rather than hiring, but she didn’t mind so much, Harry and I were generous with our handouts. Not that we gave her money, she would have been too proud to accept that, instead we cleverly helped by buying a bag of nappies here, an outfit for Jaimee there, and if she needed cash she’d insist she would pay us back once she found work. Repeatedly I had suggested she claim income support which fell on deaf ears, but after two months with no income except child benefit, another rejection letter, and another request to borrow money, Sophie sadly realised she would have to. Now her life was the antithesis of what she’d expected it to be.

Sophie, a naturally insular person, didn’t socialise much, the only visitors being family when they had the time, her friends, having husbands and children themselves, found it awkward now she was single, and their infrequent appearances had gradually tailed off. By day she was the perfect mother, doting on her daughter, taking her to the park, for long walks by the canal, playing peek-a-boo to make her chuckle. But once the darkness fell, earlier and earlier every night as the autumn drifted into winter, and Jaimee was happily asleep, the brandy would come out and ease away the problems, help her to sleep.

Once a woman who was proud to take care of herself, she’d stopped plucking her eyebrows, shaving her legs, moisturising her face, painting her toenails. In fact, she stopped doing anything that made her feel beautiful. What was the point? And inevitably the day came when, at a routine appointment with the doctor, she broke down, sobbing into Jaimee’s bodysuit as she clutched her tightly, and told the woman everything that had happened. Traipsing home with a packet of anti-depressants, her name on the list to see a counsellor, and another appointment for two weeks ahead, Sophie felt strangely relieved to have told her story at last. Quite simply, she’d reached rock bottom.

Christmas Day was approaching fast, and I was excitedly arranging the festivities. Alan, Steve and his new girlfriend, Meena, Sophie, and chubby Jaimee were all coming over for the day, and I couldn’t wait. More for Jaimee’s benefit than for the adults I’d excitedly hung metallic streamers across the ceiling, erected a tree, which I’d adorned with sparkling baubles and glittering tinsel, placing endless presents underneath. The turkey was on the kitchen side, defrosting, the cake decorated with fondant icing and pretty plastic robins, and all the treats, cakes, chocolates, biscuits, cheeses, and of course the alcohol, purchased. Only the fresh produce was still left to buy the next day: Christmas Eve.

I wasn’t aware how much Sophie had let herself go, the evidence hidden beneath long sleeves and trousers, and had no idea about the daily doses of Prozac. Sophie had become a master at hiding the bottles of brandy or sherry, the boxes of wine, the occasional four pack of lager, and she disposed of the evidence daily, hidden in carrier bags, at the nearby recycling centre, so nobody knew about her nightly binges, her growing reliance. All I saw, all everybody who visited Sophie saw, was a doting mother and a happy child.

Since Sophie’s surprise birthday party Steve and Alan had become increasingly inseparable, and Harry was overjoyed at their closeness, yet only I knew the real reasons why.

Harry’s car pulled into the drive, so I wiped the flour from my hands, putting the bowl of pastry mix to one side, and greeted him at the door with a brief kiss. “How did it go?”

He followed me into the kitchen, dropping the car keys onto the side, and flicked the kettle on to boil. “Well, it was only a first consultation, so obviously there’s nothing much to tell, but he seemed like a good solicitor, seemed to know what he was talking about. He said the first thing we need to do is contact Darren’s solicitor in Mallorca, but there’s no point doing it over the Christmas period. He said he’d send a letter in the New Year. Cup of tea?”

I nodded as I went back to making the pastry dough, adding some cold water and pummelling with my hands, and Harry collected two mugs from the cupboard, dropping a teabag in each. “Have you decided whether to tell Sophie or not?”

He poured the steaming water into the mugs, fetching the milk from the fridge. “Well, it’s awkward, because she dismisses me every time I mention it. Maybe if I tell her what we’re doing on Christmas Day with a house full of people, she won’t react badly. I mean, she’s polite, she’s hardly going to create a scene in front of Meena.”

I smiled warmly. “Yes, you’re right. Oh, I’m so pleased Steve’s found someone at last. She sounds lovely, I can’t wait to meet her. Well done to Alan for introducing them! Did he tell you what she specialises in when you spoke to him, like detective, or rape and abuse, or ...”

Harry laughed at me cheerily. “Firearms! I can’t imagine a lady being a firearms expert, but apparently she is!”

“Hey, you sexist!”

The doorbell ringing interrupted the joviality, and Harry strolled through the hall to answer. “Juan! Come in, come in! Can I get you a drink, some tea, coffee, a beer?”

Juan followed Harry into the kitchen, and sat at the table when invited. “No thanks, I won’t be here long, I just have a couple of questions to ask.”

I, wrapping the pastry ball in a plastic food bag, turned to him. “Well, your English has improved since I last saw you, what was it, four months ago?”

Juan chuckled. “Working in a hospital, talking to colleagues and patients every day, socialising at the pub, what do you expect!” Harry brought his tea from the side and sat opposite Juan. “Harry, we’ve drunk together for a while now, and I’ve heard every word you’ve said about Sophie and that trip to see Darren. I’ve become to understand why she had to go, and I think leaving her was quite a hard thing to do to her. I want to make amends. How do you think she’d take it? Is she seeing anybody else?”

Harry smiled, debating the words for a while in his unpretentious manner. “Well, I think she would have told us if she was courting, wouldn’t she, Mary?”

I put the dough in the fridge to chill. “Yes, oh yes, I’m sure she would. No, I think she’s still single, she doesn’t go out, really.” I took my tea and joined them at the table.

“So what do you think she’d say if I went to her apartment and apologised?”

“I think she would like that very much, she was very much in love with you, I know my daughter and you were special to her. There was a glint in her eye when she was with you that was never there during the time she was with Darren.”

I was drumming my fingers on my lips, concocting a plan. “No. No, I’ve got a better idea. It’s romantic, and failsafe, that’s if you are talking about having a relationship with her again.”

Juan blushed, his skin, less tanned in the four months he’d lived in England, reddening deeply. “Well, I wanted to test the water first. But yes, whatever I do, wherever I go, she’s always on my mind. I really believe she’s The One.”

I gave a devious smile, and my eyes twinkled behind my expensive glasses. “In that case, she’s coming here for Christmas. Why don’t you join us?”

“No, no, Christmas is about family, I’m flying home tomorrow to spend it with
momia
and
papa
.”

I reached across and laid my hand over Juan’s, patting softly, my scheming not yet complete. “Ah, but if you come over, Sophie and Jaimee could be your family soon, after the wedding!”

Again, he blushed sweetly. “I don’t know, she might hate me, she might tell me to get lost, and then I’d be having Christmas on my own.”

“She won’t, I can promise you that.” Harry was looking nearly as excitable as me.

Juan rose to leave. “I don’t know. Thank you for offering, I’ll speak to my parents and see what they think of it all.”

As the Spaniard closed the front door behind him, I punched the air with a triumphant ‘yes’, and left the table, ready to roll the pastry for the sausage rolls. “Well done Harry, I knew we could sway him if we worked on him hard enough. Well done. I have a feeling this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

But later, when Harry was taking a bath, my confidence began to wane, but I reprimanded myself for the thoughts quickly. Nothing was going to go wrong: Christmas this year was going to be perfect. I’d make sure it was.

Although the sun was shining, low in the Wedgwood blue sky, no clouds to be seen, the ground and trees were covered with a deep frost, and the outside temperature was sub-zero. The delicious aroma of roasting turkey flowed through the house, and I was busy in the kitchen, peeling, paring, chopping, preparing, humming a cheery tune to myself. There was nothing I had come to like better, now my circumstances had improved so dramatically, than to mother and nurture my brood, and I was excited about seeing my children collected together under the same roof. Although Harry and I hadn’t got around to arranging the wedding yet, I saw Steve as my stepson, especially as my three sons from my first marriage had stopped contacting me, with my blessing, years before.

Harry was out in the car, driving through the gritted streets to collect Sophie and Jaimee, which left me with plenty of undisturbed time to assemble the elaborate spread I had planned for the early afternoon meal. I’d already had a naughty sherry, which had gone straight to my head, flushing my cheeks and enhancing my joy, and I merrily danced through to the living room to pour another tipple.

Back in the kitchen I flicked on the radio and swayed with the music, singing along as I laid the table, extended to seat the additional guests, with a flourish: best tablecloth, Pimpernel placemats depicting garden herbs, Arthur Price cutlery that only came out on best occasions, a silver candle holder wrapped in red tinsel, Waterford crystal glasses, crackers and Christmassy napkins. I stood back and admired my handiwork, becoming more excited than ever.

Harry came through the door, shivering as he hung his coat up and removed his gloves, and Sophie, carrying Jaimee in the car seat, followed him in, setting the baby in the kitchen with me. I hugged her tightly and kissed her, then did the same for her mother. “Happy Christmas mum. I’m just going back to the car to get the presents.”

Harry kissed me lightly. “Mmmm, it smells delicious when you walk into the house.” He peered into the oven through the glass, the foil wrapped turkey steaming away as it cooked. “Are the boys here yet?”

“No, they’ll be here soon. Can I get you a drink? Something to warm you up?” I guiltily brandished the glass of sherry with a cheeky grin. “I warmed up with a glass of sherry!”

“Ah, now that’s a marvellous idea!” He called out to Sophie, who had just re-entered the house with two carrier bags of presents. “Sophie, would you like a sherry?”

“Please.” Sophie began to empty the presents from the bags, joining those already under the tree, unaware that I was standing in the doorway, gazing at her with affection. Her task done, she spun around and was startled. “God mum! You gave me a shock, I didn’t know you were there.”

“I was just watching you. You know, you’re going to have the best Christmas you’ve ever had, there’s a special little surprise for you today!”

Sophie laughed as she sat down on the sofa, taking the glass proffered by her father. “Well, I shall look forward to that!”

Meena and Steve arrived just before Alan, and the entire family were stunned by her appearance: she wasn’t at all similar to how they’d expected her to be. In earlier discussions, anticipating the girl’s arrival warmly, we’d supposed she would be a butch woman, well-built and strong, after all, she was a firearms expert in the police force. But in reality she was tiny, just over five foot tall, extremely petite, and we couldn’t conceive how somebody so delicate could do such a manly job. She was stunning, flawless umber skin, shining raven hair, which reached her waist, falling in thick, healthy strands. It didn’t seem possible that her dainty hands, fingers topped with golden polish, could fire guns and rifles with precision. Steve clutched her hand tightly, suspecting she may be nervous at meeting his family for the first time, but her confidence was admirable: she didn’t hesitate to step forward and introduce herself, hand outstretched.

First was me, she shook my hand, other hand on top, with a surprisingly strong grip. “You must be Mary, Steve’s told me what a wonderful cook you are, and by the delicious smell as I walked through the door, I can quite believe that.” Then to Harry. “And you must be dad. Thank you for inviting me today, it’s really kind of you.” Steve glowed, Sophie’s heart swelling as she watched him, realising her brother had finally found the love he’d been searching for, for so many years. Meena reached over and hugged Sophie closely. “I’m guessing you’re Sophie. Steve told me that you two are really close, he adores you, so I’m really pleased to meet you at last. Where’s little Jaimee? I can’t wait to see your bonny bundle of fun.”

Sophie laughed, releasing herself from the friendly embrace. “Cheeky bundle of mischief, more like! She’s in the living room. Come on, I’ll introduce you, but be careful with your hair, though, the loves pulling hair.”