Last Christmas (20 page)

Marianne squeezed his hand tightly.

‘Well, I think you’re doing a fantastic job. He’s lucky to have you.’ She smiled at Gabriel, and suddenly he gave her the most dazzling smile back.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you how much it’s helping having you in my life.’

Marianne’s heart did a sudden lurch. Did he—was it possible that he could—feel the same way as she did?

For a moment they sat looking at each other as if someone had pressed the pause button, then Gabriel moved as if to…

‘Daddy!’ A small voice was shouting from the top of the stairs. Oh my God. Marianne had forgotten for a moment about Stephen.

‘I’d better go,’ said Gabriel. Was it her imagination, or was he tearing himself away reluctantly?

‘Me too,’ said Marianne in some confusion. ‘I’ll let myself out.’

‘Thanks for the chat,’ said Gabriel. ‘It really helped.’

He bounded up the stairs shouting to Stephen, ‘What is it, you little rascal? You were supposed to be asleep hours ago.’ Halfway up he paused, turned those deep brown eyes on her, and said, ‘Call me.’

‘Okay,’ said Marianne as casually as she could muster but, as she walked down the garden path, her heart was singing.

Noel let himself into a house that seemed worryingly quiet. Since Magda had gone the noise levels had halved, it was true. (When she had been there, if she wasn’t on the phone arguing with Sergei in excited Russian, she was playing her 1980s thrash metal music way too loud.) But he was still used to so much noise all the time the silence was slightly unnerving. The lights were all turned off so he switched on the hall light and poked his head in the lounge. No sign of Cat there. Nor in the family room. As he left it, he heard the familiar sound of books sliding off the shelf. That damned bookshelf. It seemed to sum up his life somehow. In his fantasy farmhouse the shelves were always intact, and everything he made fitted perfectly. How he wished he was there and not in this draughty London house with its poky little garden: it was a financial millstone around his neck.

Cat wasn’t in the kitchen either. Noel went to the fridge and got out a can of lager. He looked around to see if Cat had left him something to eat. He’d planned to eat on the train, but the buffet car had been shut, and, while he would have liked to have had a beer, he and Matt had instead been trying to thrash out a solution to their mud problem, without much luck. If he thought there was any chance of
getting a job somewhere, anywhere, else, Noel would hand in his notice tomorrow, before he finally got pushed.

Cat must be working. He went upstairs, pausing to look at the little ones, who were fast asleep. A light swiftly went off in James’ room as Noel entered. He ruffled his son’s hair and said, ‘I saw you, you monkey. Sleep. Now.’

‘Night, night, Daddy,’ said James, looking sleepy. Hard to remember he was a nine-year-old, testosterone-filled boy during the day. James always looked angelic at bedtime.

Mel was definitely still awake, lying in bed listening to her iPod and immersed in a Darren Shan book.

‘Sleep,’ said Noel, ‘otherwise you’ll never get up in the morning. Where’s your mother?’

‘On the computer,’said Mel.‘She’s been there all evening.’

‘Right,’ said Noel. ‘I’d better go and chase her off then.’

He climbed up the stairs to the top of the house. Cat was crouched in the dark over a computer screen—the only light in the room coming from that and her desklamp.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. I was just finishing this off.’

Cat barely looked at him when she said this, she was so deep in concentration. Sometimes he felt like she hardly noticed him.

‘Right, I’ll just go downstairs and get myself something to eat then,’ said Noel.

Cat looked up, frowning.

‘Haven’t you eaten?’ she said. ‘I thought you were going to eat on the train.’

‘I was,’ said Noel, ‘but the buffet car on the train was shut. What have you had?’

‘I only fancied beans on toast,’ said Cat.

No wonder Cat was so skinny, she ate like a bird these days.

‘Oh, right,’ said Noel. ‘I’ll just sort myself out something then.’

‘I won’t be long,’ said Cat.

Noel went downstairs with a heavy heart. He’d been planning to tell Cat about his work situation tonight but she seemed so distracted, and he felt so shattered, now probably wasn’t the best moment.

And when Cat did eventually come downstairs, she sat next to him for all of ten minutes on the sofa, before declaring herself too tired to stay up a moment longer and going to bed.

Noel cracked open another can of lager, and switched to ITV3 where an old Sly Stallone film was showing. When Noel was young, he’d imagined that hitting middle age would be a point in his life when he had all the answers. So how was it he was sitting here alone, worrying about the future and feeling more uncertain about life than ever?

Call me.

Marianne was on one of her periodic yomps through the hills. Now that spring was here she was enjoying these walks more than ever. The sight of lambs gambolling in the fresh green fields couldn’t help but lighten the spirits and the blustery breezes when, after a determined scramble, she’d finally reached the top of the hill, made her feel gloriously, wonderfully alive. She looked back down the valley towards Hope Christmas. The houses looked like miniature dolls’ houses nestling in the hills, which brimmed with purple and pink heathers. It was so beautiful. She was so happy here now, but perhaps she could be even happier.

Marianne knew she hadn’t mistaken the look in Gabriel’s eyes the other night. She knew that she hadn’t imagined it, that he was feeling the way she was feeling. But, and it was a big but, should she, could she, take things further? Marianne would have liked to have been bold enough to proposition a man like Lisa and Carly would—their ability to pick up men never failed to astonish her. They had frequently admonished her in the past to live like a twenty-first-century woman, not like a nineteenth-century heroine, waiting ‘like a lapdog’, as Carly always put it, for some handsome swain to turn up. But Marianne couldn’t help it. She
liked the sensation of being courted. She wanted the romance of it. It wasn’t her fault that nineteenth-century fictional heroes always seemed so much better than the real thing. No wonder she’d been such a soft touch for Luke. What a sap.

But now, here was Gabriel putting her off her stride, asking her to take the initiative. There was certainly a bit—what was she talking about, a lot—of her wanting to do so, but she was conscious that he wasn’t free and that the situation with Stephen was delicate to say the least. She wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted the responsibility of children just yet. Particularly that of a child with so many issues. As a teacher, Marianne had seen enough of the stresses caused by family break-up to know that taking on Stephen was not something she should do lightly. But all that aside, maybe she didn’t have the courage to take that first step anyway. And then again, suppose she was wrong and he was only after friendship? She’d feel a total fool if that were the case.

‘You won’t know if you don’t try,’ she declared loudly, as she came over a ridge of the hill and started her descent into the next valley.

‘That you won’t.’ Ralph Nicholas, who was coming up over the other side of the hill with his dog. For someone apparently so old, he was remarkably not out of breath. ‘Which is precisely what I think about stopping that monstrosity my grandson seems intent on inflicting on us.’

He waved his hand behind him and Marianne saw for the very first time what her erstwhile fiancé had been up to over the last few months. She didn’t normally walk out this way. The excavation work for the eco town was clearly under way. It was a scene of utter devastation. The ground was all churned up, trees had been torn down, and it looked like something from
The Lord of the Rings.

‘I had no idea it would be so destructive,’ said Marianne. ‘I thought eco towns were all about preservation, not destruction.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Ralph.

‘You know the Post Office Committee was planning to talk to Luke about encouraging prospective buyers of eco town property to support us, don’t you?’ Marianne said.

‘Sadly, I fear, they’ll be wasting their time,’ said Ralph. ‘Luke hasn’t a sentimental bone in his body. He must take after his father.’

‘They neither of them take after you, that’s for sure,’ said Marianne.

‘Ah, well, that’s because I adopted Luke’s father,’ said Ralph. ‘I live in hope that it will turn out well in the end.’

‘It may yet,’ said Marianne. ‘You never know. Luke might realise the error of his ways.’

‘He might,’ said Ralph, ‘but I doubt it.’ He whistled to his dog, who came bounding up covered in mud. ‘I think you may find a friend of yours in the valley. There are an awful lot of sheep to keep track of on the hills this time of year, don’t you know?’

He walked off whistling to himself with what Marianne could only describe as a twinkle in his eye. How could he possibly know what she was thinking?

Noel was sitting at home, working on the kids’ computer in the playroom. He’d given Cat some guff about the pressures of an office move (depressingly he was going to end his days at GRB hot-desking) making it impossible to work in the office. Really it was that there wasn’t enough work to keep him there. Although there was a second computer in Cat’s office, she’d made it clear that she hadn’t welcomed his intrusion into her workspace, so he’d come downstairs to the kids’ computer, ostensibly
to draw up the plans for the heating system for the proposed community centre, which was apparently going to be the hub of the eco town.

Having spent a very happy morning mooching about Hope Christmas on his last visit, Noel was now convinced that the designers of the town had utterly missed the point. There was a living, breathing community already there. People had begun to recognise him. The man who ran the antiques shop had taken to joking that Noel always came in yet never bought, and the woman in the estate agents’, having seen him mooching outside looking at the pictures, had dragged him in and shown him a whole variety of properties, all of which he coveted. When Noel was in Hope Christmas he bought organic meat at the butcher’s (he told Cat he’d got it in Smithfield Market), Shropshire honey that he pretended he’d picked up in Oxford Street, far too many books from the tiny bookshop with its informative and friendly booksellers, and used the internet facilities in Aunty Betty’s Coffee Shop, where he had met an ancient crone who had got him to show her how to surf.

Noel had fallen in love with Hope Christmas, and yet he had barely mentioned it to Cat. He couldn’t even explain to himself why he didn’t want to talk to her about it, but it was like he was having a fantasy life, far removed from his normal stresses and strains. And, for now, he just wanted to keep it secret.

From what he had seen of the place, it seemed like the perfect place to live already, so who needed to create a new town so close by? The prices were going to be out of the range of most of the young people in the surrounding villages, even in these uncertain times. Noel wished more than ever that someone at GRB had listened to his suggestions about utilising existing buildings to create sustainable and affordable housing. Every time he visited the building
site, he felt sick. A perfectly beautiful valley was being destroyed. And for what? Just so that Luke Nicholas and his cronies could line their pockets.

‘Can you do the school run today?’ Cat had crept up on him unawares.‘I’ve got a really urgent feature to finish by five.’

Noel pulled a face. He hated the school run, always feeling out of place among the mums comparing notes about PTA committee meetings and children’s tummy bugs.

‘I’ve got a fair bit on myself,’ he began to protest.

‘Yes, I noticed,’ Cat said drily, nodding at the screen, which was displaying the fact that he’d just lost his third game of Spider Solitaire.

‘I was only taking a break,’ said Noel. ‘Didn’t you ask your mum?’

This time it was Cat’s turn to pull a face.

‘I just can’t risk it, Noel,’ she said. ‘She’s become so unreliable. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. But I daren’t ask her to pick them up again in case she forgets. Last time it happened she was so upset, I decided neither of us could go through that again.’

Noel frowned. Cat had been mentioning problems with Louise for weeks—he felt guilty for not realising how bad things had got.

‘Have you tried to talk to her about it?’ he asked.

‘You know Mum,’said Cat.‘She would never admit something was wrong. I tried to get her to go to the doctor, but she wouldn’t. She says she feels fine, and I’m making a fuss about nothing.’

‘She’s probably right,’ said Noel. ‘Don’t forget she is in her seventies now.’

‘Seventy-three isn’t that old,’ said Cat, ‘and, as she keeps telling me, she isn’t senile yet. She never forgot anything till recently, but now it’s really hard to get her to remember the simplest things. Yet when you talk to her about the war,
she remembers everything, from collecting shrapnel in the streets to having lessons in the air raid shelters. Weird.’

‘Very,’ said Noel. ‘It might just be a phase, you never know.’

‘Yeah, it might,’ said Cat, looking unconvinced and rather sad. It wasn’t like her to make a fuss. Normally she did deal with all the domestic stuff. As he were here, perhaps he should pull his weight a little more.

‘Okay. I’ll go and pick the kids up, but can you do tea?’

‘It’s a deal,’ said Cat.

She went back upstairs and Noel started another game of Spider Solitaire. He lost. Any more of this and he was going to end up feeling completely emasculated.

Gabriel was tacking a fence post in. Someone driving a digger from the worksite had accidentally run it into his property. Gabriel wanted to make sure the fence was back in place again before he lost any sheep. It was a lovely clear day and he was enjoying his work. He never felt lonely here, out on the hills, but was very much at home and in his element. If it weren’t for Stephen, he’d be tempted to occasionally sleep the night in the old shepherd’s croft on the top of the hill. Especially in summer. As a young man, he’d often spent time up here on his own with the sheep. He still missed that. Stephen loved being out here too, but he was still young enough to get bored after too long, so this morning Gabriel had left him with his cousins.

‘Hello there.’ Gabriel looked up from his tacking and swallowed hard. Marianne was standing before him, the sun playing through her dark curls, the wind ruffling them. He’d been an inch away from kissing her the other night. He wondered if she knew. She hadn’t called him, so Gabriel had assumed she either didn’t know how he felt or was avoiding him.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m just mending this fence.’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Marianne. ‘Do you need any help?’

‘That’s what I like about you,’ said Gabriel, handing her a hammer, ‘you’re a doer not a chatterer.’

‘Oh, I can chat,’ said Marianne, ‘but I can’t help having a strong streak of practicality. My dad was most insistent that I learnt how to fend for myself in the DIY department from an early age.’

‘Here, can you bang that post in?’ said Gabriel.

They worked in silence for a little while and then Gabriel found himself unable to keep quiet any longer.

‘You didn’t call,’ he said.

‘I was going to,’ said Marianne.

‘I sense a but here,’ said Gabriel.

‘It’s only, well—look, I’m going to be very honest.’ Marianne’s words came out in a babbling rush. ‘I like you—a lot—but there’s Stephen and Eve. What if she comes back? What if she doesn’t? Does Stephen even want a stepmum? Do I want a stepson? And you’ve both been through so much—’

‘You can stop right there,’ said Gabriel. ‘I think maybe it’s time we both put the past behind us and said goodbye to the Lonely Hearts Club, don’t you?’ He flung down his tools and, pulling her into his arms with joyous abandon, he kissed her firmly on the mouth. ‘Now, does that answer your question?’

‘What question?’ said Marianne, looking stunned.

‘The one you were going to ask about whether or not you could put me through this. And the answer is, yes, you most definitely can.’

Cat was just typing the last words of her feature on ‘How to Make the Most of Your Time’ (honestly, why had she
created an alter ego who was so bossy?) when the phone rang. Cursing, she answered it. Didn’t anyone understand about the pressure of deadlines?

‘Is there a Mrs Tinsall there?’ a voice with a strong Jamaican accent said. ‘My name’s PC Josephs, and I think I may have your mother here. She seems a little upset.’

Forgetting instantly all about deadlines, Cat said, ‘Oh my God, is she all right? She hasn’t hurt herself or anything, has she?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ said the voice, ‘but one of her neighbours called us. She was found half an hour ago wandering up and down the street in her nightie. She didn’t seem to know where she lived. Luckily her neighbour had a key, so we’ve got her back home and we’re having a nice cup of tea. She’s rather distressed though, and is asking for you.’

‘I’m on my way,’ said Cat, ice chilling her bones. All the fear and anxiety she’d been feeling for months was coming together in a hideous rush. She couldn’t let herself think too much about it though, otherwise she’d be sick. Shaking like a leaf, she typed the last sentence and, ever the professional, sent it to Bev with a quick note to say she’d been called away urgently. She rang Noel who, typically, had his mobile switched off, and left him a message, then she got in the car and drove like a maniac to Mum’s, trying to suppress the panic bubbling up inside her.

‘I really don’t know what all the fuss is about,’ said Mum when she arrived, looking almost cross that Cat was there. ‘I was just a little confused, that’s all.’

‘Mum, it’s the middle of the afternoon,’ said Cat, ‘and you’re wearing your nightie.’

‘I felt like a little nap,’ said her mother. ‘And then I got up and forgot I was wearing it. I only went to the shop to get some milk.’ She frowned. ‘But then, it was very strange.
Like a shutter going down or something. I couldn’t quite remember where I was. Luckily this kind young gentleman has been looking after me.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ said Cat. ‘What are you like?’ She tried to make a joke, but she’d never felt less like joking. There was no pretending anymore. Something was very very badly wrong.

Cat saw PC Josephs to the door, having prevented Mum from giving him a tip, and thanked him profusely.

‘Don’t you worry, love,’ he said, ‘it’s my job. Can’t have a nice lady like that meeting a mugger, can we?’

Cat laughed and shut the door. She leant against it heavily and took a deep breath. Time to tackle Mum and finally get her to admit they had a very big problem.