Chapter Ten:

A Step Too Far

Lillian is humming softly as we drive the winding roads to Elm Tree. I look out of the window at the picture perfect snow, settling softly on the pine trees that line the country lanes, then turn to my mother.

‘What’s that song?’ I ask, thinking I might like it.

‘It’s not a song, darling, it is Chopin.’ I roll my eyes and look at her suspiciously. Is there an air of victory about her as she carefully manoeuvres the bend in the road that leads to our driveway?

Yesterday, I was gleefully packing my belongings with Izzy and Michael, as Mr Raj had granted me the all clear to go home. I had been pestering him for days to be free of the stifling hospital, and finally (with a little persuasion from Dr. Braby) he had conceded to my discharge in time for Christmas.

Michael looked at me shyly and asked if I wanted to spend Christmas at the ranch with him. I had yet to meet his father and step-mother; I hadn’t wanted to be introduced until I felt I looked more respectable and was feeling better.

I saw Lillian catch her breath and heard Izzy’s heart stop beating. I knew they would go along with anything I wanted, but I also knew they were desperate to take care of me themselves. I had even been getting along reasonably well with my mother of late.

I smiled at Michael and thanked him. ‘I would love to, but I can’t expect these two to manage Christmas without me. She …’ I gesture my thumb behind me towards Izzy, ‘couldn’t decorate a tree if her life depended on it. And she …’ I point at my worried-looking mother, ‘can hardly cook a baked bean never mind a turkey!’

They both clapped their hands delightedly and Izzy ran up behind me with a big bear hug. ‘Anna, we’ll have the best Christmas ever!’ I caught my mother’s eye and we shared a rare and loving smile.

So perhaps this was the reason she still seemed rather pleased as the familiar crunch of gravel announced our arrival onto Elm Tree Lane.

I could have cried with happiness as I saw the fairy lights twinkling in our namesake tree. The dusk had crept upon us quickly, just in time to showcase the starry lights. I saw the front of the house was also lit with Christmas decorations and guessed it was for my benefit, as never before had home looked so welcomingly festive.

‘I love it!’ I cry out, and am out of the car before it’s barely stopped moving. Izzy is hot on my heels and boasts proudly that they had spent most of the night making sure everything was perfect. I uncharacteristically love Christmas, and it’s one of the only occasions where my father and I ever conflict. He cannot abide what he describes as ‘gaudy tributes to a misplaced tradition,’ and always made us stick to wreaths of holly and a solitary pine in the corner of the entrance hall. He was usually quite generous with his gifts (or at least Leona was), but there was never any tinsel to admire or glittery crackers to pull.

I laugh delightedly as I see the twinkling reindeer by the front door, and spin round to look at my mother. ‘Father will go crazy! He’ll tear it down as soon as he lays eyes on it.’ I stand protectively by Rudolph.

‘Oh, leave him to me, Anna. I want this Christmas to be extra special. Anyway, Scrooge won’t be home until the twenty-third so we have three days to enjoy it by ourselves.’

My jaw drops involuntarily as she calls him ‘Scrooge.’ Izzy and I look at each other and while we carry my bags through the front door the three of us twitter and giggle like schoolgirls.

‘Oh … my … goodness.’ I turn in awestruck circles at the transformation of Elm Tree House. The tree in the entrance hall almost touches the ceiling and is covered with tinsel, baubles, cherubs, and snowflakes. I reach out with delight and touch the wrapped chocolates and candy canes. As I run through the house, every room is decorated beautifully with mistletoe, holly, and scented candles that remind me of the cinnamon mulled wine Grandma Beth used to make. We dance around, singing, jumping from one Christmas carol to another, until my mother claps her hands and orders us to rest on the sofa as she lights the fire. She heats some mulled wine and fresh mince pies with huge dollops of brandy cream and I sigh contentedly. I can’t remember ever feeling so happy.

***

Despite the fact I won’t see Michael until he comes to visit on Boxing Day, my euphoria continues to glow right up until Christmas Eve. My father had been delayed so it is with a little trepidation that Izzy and I wait for him in the kitchen, sipping a Baileys for Dutch courage.

‘Izzy, do you think he’ll be mad?’

My sister nods her head. ‘Considering the house looks like Santa’s Grotto meets Las Vegas, then yes, I’m quite sure he will be furious.’

As if on cue, we hear the crunch of gravel as Father’s Land Rover pulls up in front of the house. It is quarter past five so he will have already seen the outside illuminations in all their splendour. He looks suitably perplexed as he steps into the overwhelmingly festive entrance hall. I walk towards him and to my delight he opens his arms for me to fall in to.

‘I’m so sorry, darling, I couldn’t be home sooner. I’ve been worried sick, calling the house every five minutes but your mother never answered.’

Izzy pipes up behind me, ‘We were barely ever here, Father. We were at Anna’s bedside.’

I turn to look at her crossly. I do not want her to spoil things by trying to make him feel more guilt for not being here sooner. She had said on more than one occasion, ‘Surely he could have gotten home by now?’ Now she just raises her eyebrows at me and heads back to the kitchen.

‘I’m so glad you’re home, Father. Do you like my surprise from Mother and Isabel?’ I ask him this innocently, gesturing towards the tree and the fairly lights.

‘Not my style at all, Annabel,’ he says tersely. ‘But who cares about all that as long as you are home and well?’ He lifts my chin and smiles warmly, until the moment is entirely ruined as the motion-activated Santa suddenly starts singing and wiggling his ample hips. My father visibly stiffens and heads for the drinks cabinet as I curse myself inwardly. Izzy had warned me the singing Santa was a step too far.

***

He disappears upstairs to unpack as Izzy and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least the decorations have not been ordered down. Mother does not look as confident when she arrives home a little while later with shopping.

‘He’s home then?’ she asks nervously, shooing our prying eyes away from the parcels.

‘He was fine about it,’ I say smugly, as though there was never any doubt. ‘All he cared about was that I was OK, so as usual you have been fussing and fretting over nothing.’

I manage to grab a Terry’s Chocolate Orange from the top of an open carrier bag before she has time to swipe them away. I throw it to Izzy and we run back to the kitchen, leaving Mother to head upstairs with her shopping.

Father comes back downstairs first, freshly showered, with rather glassy eyes from his generous whiskeys. He sits in front of the fire as I fetch him another.

‘Does Mother want a drink with us?’ Izzy asks as she pours me another miniscule Baileys, rationing my alcohol consumption as subtly as she dare.

‘She will, most likely, but I think she’s had enough.’ I must look confused as he goes on, ‘Had a few glasses of champagne while shopping, by the looks of her. She’s only gone and slipped in the bath and hurt herself.’

Izzy jumps up but he motions her to sit still, and I feel further perplexed because she looked fine, and would never drink then drive.

I pat my father’s arm reassuringly, ‘Christmas does funny things to people, and she might have found the shopping centre too manic and needed a little refreshment.’

Izzy looks concerned and I frown at her, silently willing her once more not to make a fuss and spoil Christmas Eve now we were finally all together.

Lillian comes into the room shortly after, dressed in a cream robe and her hair wrapped up in a matching towel. Izzy and I both gasp at her face and despite our father’s glares, rush over to her.

‘God, Mother, you’ll have a black eye for Christmas Day!’ I reach out to touch the already discoloured shading around her eye as she flinches away. ‘Why have you tried putting makeup over it? We already know you’ve gotten yourself pissed and slipped over!’ I revel in the chance at telling her off for such reckless behaviour and Izzy cannot resist either.

‘You’ve split your lip! Mother, what on earth were you thinking, drinking through the day?’

She looks over at my father as he stands up to lead her to the sofa in a caring manner. ‘Leave her alone, girls. I’m sure she feels quite ridiculous enough. I told them you’d a few champagnes while shopping. Won’t be repeating that again for a while, eh?’

My mother says nothing as he pours her a brandy. ‘Get that down you for the shock.’ Izzy and I laugh as he does an impression of her staggering around drunk, while my mother stares straight into the fire, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

***

I enjoyed Christmas Day but as usual Lillian’s dour face put a cloud over the festivities. I think she and my father must have argued over her drinking debacle, as she barely spoke during dinner, although she did try to make sure that Izzy and I had fun, and bought us some lovely gifts.

I opened my present from Michael while they all pretended not to watch, and was annoyed with myself for being a little disappointed with the book about American horses. But I didn’t dwell on it, and was comforted by the fact that he wanted me to learn about them as I would be visiting his stables in Northampton soon.

I smiled remembering how cross he gets when I call his ranch ‘stables’, but it seems so strange to have an American-themed facility in such demonstratively English countryside.

I couldn’t wait to go with him though; it would mean countless days, and more importantly nights, in the company of a man I had fallen deeply in love with. The three months we had known each other seemed like millennia, as though there had never been a time when I had not known and loved him. If any other boyfriend had bought me a horse book for Christmas I would have smacked them around the head with it, but not Michael. I sighed happily and hugged my present.

My mother smiled warmly. ‘You shall see him tomorrow, darling. I do like that young man; he has been so good for you and was a great comfort to me when you were in hospital.’ She jumped as my father dropped one his golf clubs and it crashed to the floor.

‘Izzy bought them, Father, but it was my idea,’ I said, delighted that we had pleased him with his gift.

‘Thank you, Annabel, and Izzy. Did you like your presents?’

My sister and I just looked at one another. Leona seemed to be losing track of our ages (and life-threatening illnesses) as this year she had chosen for us a pair of matching neon roller blades.

We both grinned and made happy noises that we loved our gifts; although I was actually overwhelmed by the beautiful Tiffany charm bracelet my mother had bought me. She bought Izzy a locket, which was also lovely, and I appreciated that she never bought us the same gift.

I gave her shoulder a little squeeze as I walk past her, and she looked very happy as I admire the bracelet on my delicate wrist.

***

I barely sleep through the night knowing Michael will be with me in the morning. I can’t imagine there is anything more delicious than lying alone in bed wishing your loved one was there with you. My body tingles as I remember his determined kisses and the confidence with which he made love to me. Despite the December chill, I am suddenly incredibly hot and throw back my blankets, knowing I won’t sleep. I sit dreamily on my wooden window seat and press my forehead against the cool window.

It is with much surprise that I see my mother in the little rose garden to the right of the meadow. The lights from the elm tree are just enough that I can see her kneeling by one of the little plants that have been lovingly covered from the frost, despite the fact there is still months until they bloom. I squint my eyes. She looks as though she may be praying. I am distracted by a noise on the landing and I hear my father whispering gruffly, ‘Lillian?’

I open the door and he looks startled to see me. ‘Why aren’t you asleep, Anna?’ Then he composes himself and adds, ‘Have you seen your mother? I woke up and she wasn’t there.’

I don’t exactly know why I don’t want him to find her, but I lie nonetheless. ‘I heard her downstairs; she must be getting a glass of water. Go back to bed, you look exhausted.’

Actually, he looks drunk, but he seems happy with my explanation and goes back to their bedroom. When I look past the meadow for a second time my mother has gone.