Gabby was standing at her bedroom window watching the rain gust sideways in great billowing misty sheets. She could not feel less Christmassy or more miserable. The house and everything in it felt damp. The only really warm places were the kitchen and Nell’s cottage. If it was not for Charlie she would have been tempted to let poor Outside Dog in from the barn. He looked just like Gabby felt.
There was so much to do and she had no inclination to do it. It was as if all her energy, the vitality needed over the summer to pursue the volume of work and a secret life, had suddenly evaporated leaving her shaky, burnt out and reluctant to leave her bed.
Josh would be home in a few days. The house must be cleaned and decorated. While she had been in London, Nell had arranged for Alan’s daughter to come in and clean, but the girl was erratic and prone to sudden ailments and now Gabby had returned Charlie said she was useless.
Gabby pulled on two sweaters and went downstairs. The remains of Charlie’s breakfast were on the table and the kitchen floor was full of muddy boot and paw marks. There was a note from Charlie propped up on the marmalade jar.
‘Could you find my dark blue work jeans and thick overalls? I can’t find them anywhere. Also, Alan has a cold and is not coming in so could you get the milk quota up on your computer for me. See you at lunch. Sandwiches will do as it is the shoot supper tonight, did you remember? C.’
Gabby slumped on a chair. I don’t want to be here. I can’t do this any more. Suddenly it seemed too much effort to make herself a pot of coffee. What’s the matter with me? I’m going to ruin Christmas for everyone. Josh loves Christmas, everything must be just as it’s always been. I am so tired. I want to go to back to bed and sleep forever.
She got up and took the kettle off the Aga and made a strong pot of coffee and some toast, willing herself into the day. I’ll make a list, then I’ll go through the list and tick off everything I get done today and then I’ll feel better. She switched the radio on and the warm kitchen, a place in which she had spent so many hours, began to soothe her as the storm raged outside. First on the list: washing.
Gabby went out into the old scullery to the washing machine and dryer and saw a vast heap of dirty washing on the wet floor. When she opened a cupboard to find the soap powder a smaller pile of clothes fell out: shirts, still buttoned up and arms carelessly half inside-out, Y-fronts, socks and the dark blue jeans. She stared at them. Had the girl pushed them in there, or Charlie? Shoved them in a cupboard to wait for her, Gabby, to do. Part of her job as a good wife. Part of her job description.
Blind rage seized Gabby. The shirts had done it. Not only had they been left for her to wash, but left for her to unbutton first and pull the sleeves the right way. How dare he? She kicked at the pile, screamed;
‘Bastard! Weeks of it. How dare you? How dare you leave it smelling and rotting for me to do? These are your clothes. Yours. All you have to do is push them in a machine, fill a container with powder and switch on. But oh, no, not you, Charlie. You’ve got to make a point. I should be here to look after you, you, Charlie, the head of the household … Well, I brought in money this year … I can’t do everything … I can’t … I can’t. I can’t … I’m so tired of it …’
Gabby turned, sobbing and choking, past caring, beside herself, and saw Nell standing startled and white-faced by the back door. But she could not stop now, she stood there shaking and heaving, looking at Nell like a small overwrought child.
Nell, who had quickly taken in the floor full of washing, moved over to her and held her, wordlessly, until the shaking and sobbing subsided. The sight of Gabby kicking at the pile of washing, screaming like a banshee, had shocked Nell to the core. She felt utter dismay. It was as if the great dark wave she had been waiting for all these years was suddenly looming over her. All her secret fears rose with it. There was going to be one almighty undertow to Gabby rebelling at last.
Nell understood. It could have been her standing there a decade ago amid Ted’s debris left for her to clear, swamped by a familiar sudden rush of despair. Nothing was going to change. Ever.
And it had done her no good. Ted was as tone-deaf to her distress as she feared Charlie would be if he ever witnessed Gabby’s age-old cry of lament first-hand. For it had merely illustrated to Ted, and, she feared, Charlie too, imbued with genetic smugness, the mental instability of a certain type of women who thought they were too clever by half.
Men like Ted and Charlie, who made it clear they did not like their wives to work or have interests outside their own familiar world, would never recognize in a million years that what they really feared was the perceived threat to themselves. The woman you married young must remain the same, must not move on, in case they moved away from the most important job in the world. Them.
Nell held Gabby, finding to her horror that she had never entirely let go of her own overpowering anger of a life dedicated to an implacable man. To the loss of love.
She led Gabby back into the warm kitchen, sat her down and made her more coffee. She went back into the scullery and piled a load of washing into the machine, and came back and poured the coffee into two mugs. Gabby was still sitting in the same position. Nell stopped herself issuing forth clichés. You are just tired; Christmas does this to people; it’s the weather. She sat beside Gabby and pushed the mug towards her.
‘Drink your coffee, lovie,’ she said gently.
Gabby gave a little shiver as if she was waking up and looked at Nell. ‘Nell … I’m so sorry, I …’
‘Gabby, you don’t have to apologize or explain to me.’
‘No.’ Gabby smiled bleakly. ‘I feel as if I am ploughing through treacle. I’m so disorganized this year. There’s one week to go and I haven’t even done any Christmas shopping or made out menus or cleaned the house properly or stocked up … Josh will be here on Saturday.’
‘Gabby, the world is not going to come to an end if the house does not sparkle. We can do that together, and Gabby, Josh is grown-up now, you do not have to re-create every single little ritual of childhood, lug sacks of food home because that is what we always have on the table. Josh is in love and will not notice or mind if there are not glass bowls full of crystallized fruit or nuts, or if he doesn’t get a sackful of presents. Gabby, you’ve worked harder this year than you ever have. It has been a protracted and concentrated summer in which you wanted to prove yourself in London. You have commuted back and forth for months. Of course you feel like this, it would be odd if you didn’t …’
I had a love affair all summer. Betrayed you, Nell; betrayed your love and your trust.
‘… Please, just go easy on yourself for once. We live on a farm, for heaven’s sake. I’ve organized the duck, the turkey and the ham. This year there is only Elan for Christmas day, just family. We have enough food for a siege for Josh’s usual Boxing-Day crowd as well as our own droppers-in. There is nothing to get exercised about. Relax. The only thing that will worry Josh is if he comes home and you are tense and stressed … for no reason …’
Except I miss Mark Hannah so much I feel physically ill … bereft …
‘I know, Nell. I know I’ve lost my sense of proportion.’ Gabby got up and went to look out of the window.
‘If this clears, why don’t you walk over to Elan’s with Shadow? Get some Cornish air back into your lungs?’ I can do jolly, jolly well, Nell thought. ‘Then, maybe go and hit the shops with a positive list for presents and by tonight you can relax …’
She paused, then said quietly, ‘Charlie is not going to change now, Gab, it’s too late. You’ve always done everything for him, he expects it.’
‘I know.’ Gabby turned from the window and smiled at her. ‘Bless you, Nell.’
As she left the room, Gabby stopped at the door.
‘This Christmas thing I have with filling the table to overflowing, it’s childhood stuff, the terror of suddenly going back to an empty table, an empty house. All the little rituals I’ve always done here are like a superstition. As long as I religiously maintain them, all will be well.’ All will be well.
‘But all of a sudden it seems like such a lot of work. Not Charlie’s fault, Nell. Mine. Sorry.’
For a second, Gabby’s small face under the new short hair was as desolate as the day outside. Then she was gone.
‘Oh, God,’ Nell sighed. She had glimpsed something disturbing she did not wish to recognize.