It felt as if Christmas had come early, waking up on Christmas Eve and remembering that Ed was there in bed beside me. So much so that I almost burst gleefully into a rousing rendition of the Hallelujah chorus. ‘You’re still here! It wasn’t all a dream,’ I said into the warmth of his neck, hooking a leg over his.
His arms snaked drowsily around me. ‘God, it’s good to be back,’ he murmured, his fingers drifting up my T-shirt in a very distracting way. ‘There’s no place like home.’
I had just yanked off said T-shirt and was hurling it wantonly across the room when a thunderous banging started on the door. ‘Aunty Weevie, Aunty Weevie, can we have pancakes now?’ came Thea’s voice. ‘You did thay!’
Ed and I looked at each other. ‘We’re still asleep!’ he yelled back and we both snorted with childish giggles.
‘No, you are NOT,’ Thea said. There was no pulling the wool over her eyes. ‘And you did thay,’ she repeated, as if I’d signed a declaration in my own blood.
‘I did say,’ I agreed, with a sigh. ‘Give me a minute, and I’ll be right out.’ Then I rolled on top of Ed and kissed him very thoroughly, morning-breath and all. ‘That’s to keep you going until later,’ I told him, before reluctantly extricating myself. Then I got up and the room went a bit swimmy. ‘Whoa.’
‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘Shit, I forgot about the fainting thing. Are you all right?’ He propped himself up in bed and switched on his lamp. ‘You do look a bit pale still.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said, even though I did actually feel kind of queasy.
‘Get back in bed,’ he said, throwing off the covers and unhooking his dressing gown from the door. ‘I’ll make breakfast.’
There was something so thrillingly manly about the way he ordered me back to bed that I obeyed immediately, even if he did then go and start whipping up batter mix in the kitchen, rather than leaping on me for some ravishing.
I was just sliding back into a doze when I heard Ruth calling, ‘Kids! Dad’s on the phone!’, in a surprisingly un-murderous sort of voice. Well, well, well, I thought, raising an eyebrow in wonder. Could this actually be the dawning of a festive truce?
I rolled over, smiled to myself and promptly fell fast asleep again.
The second time I woke up, it was ten o’clock, the sun was shining and Ruth had already gone out for the day with her gang. I felt like the worst and laziest hostess ever, as I shuffled into the kitchen, full of apologies for my slackness.
‘Don’t be daft – you’re not well,’ Ed said, pouring me a coffee. ‘Besides, nobody expects you to be running around in waitress-mode, today of all days. How are you feeling?’
I rubbed my eyes, sinking into a chair. ‘Still a bit weird,’ I said sheepishly. I could smell the now-congealing butter from the frying pan and the strong, sharp scent of coffee, and the combination made me feel nauseous.
Victoria was washing up and turned to give me a motherly once-over. ‘You do look a bit peaky, darling,’ she said, then wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry. Nobody wants to be told that, do they?’
I smiled at her. ‘It’s all right. I’ve been called worse. Yesterday Thea told me that I have “weasel eyes”. I think she meant “hazel eyes”, but I can’t be sure.’
Victoria chuckled. ‘She’s a card, that one. They’re all lovely.’ She rinsed a plate and put it in the drying rack. ‘I’m so grateful to you both for letting me stay here, you know. Christmas is so special with children, isn’t it? Much better than moping around at home.’
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ I told her. ‘Even if all I’ve done so far is faint and sleep.’ I tried to look more energetic, like a proper girlfriend and host. ‘So, what do you two fancy doing today?’
They exchanged a look. ‘We were just talking about that,’ Ed said. ‘We’ve got Dad’s ashes here with us, and we thought we’d scatter some of them off the cliff. He did love to swim in the sea.’
‘I can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be,’ Victoria added, her eyes moistening all of a sudden. She dried her hands on a tea towel and made a valiant attempt at a smile. ‘We can let him go – send him off into the open – and have a little moment. I think it’ll be a comfort to us both, Ed.’
I nodded. ‘That sounds a very good idea,’ I told them. ‘And that way he’ll still be part of our Christmas, too.’
Victoria dabbed her eyes. ‘Absolutely.’ She glanced over at me, then got to her feet with renewed briskness. ‘But first I’m just going to pop into the village for some last-minute bits and bobs. I won’t be long.’
While she was out, Ed and I went straight back to bed, feeling extremely naughty and teenagerish, which, in my opinion, is always an excellent way to feel. Afterwards we got dressed and pulled the curtains – in the nick of time, as I could see Victoria already making her way back along the beach path – and were just innocently putting each other’s Christmas presents under the tree when she let herself back into the flat.
‘That was quick,’ Ed said, placing a very small wrapped box on top of a larger, squishier present. I glanced surreptitiously at the label of the small box – To Evie, Merry Christmas. Love, Ed x – and a frisson went through me. Oooh. Now what could that be?
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I didn’t need much.’ Her eyes fell on me and I noticed a strange sort of expression on her face, before she turned back to her son. ‘Ed,’ she said, ‘you wouldn’t be a love and make me a cappuccino, would you, darling? I’d do it myself, only I don’t have a clue about that fancy machine.’
‘Sure,’ he said, good-naturedly, adding one final present to the pile. They were all wrapped in a gorgeous midnight-blue paper freckled with silver stars, and my fingers itched to start opening them. ‘No peeping while I’m downstairs, you,’ he warned, as if reading my mind. ‘Or squidging. Or shaking. If a single corner of Sellotape has been peeled away, I’ll notice, you know.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, rolling my eyes and trying to act indignant. I knew exactly what he was talking about, though, obviously.
Ed vanished down to the café, where our big, bells-and-whistles coffee machine lived, and I was left alone with Victoria, who came over to me and perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘Evie,’ she said, and I was surprised to see how fidgety she looked all of a sudden.
‘Is everything all right?’ I asked, suspecting she wanted a womanly heart-to-heart about Michael. I braced myself, wondering where the nearest box of tissues might be.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Everything’s fine. I just hope I’m not about to do, or say, anything awful.’
Oh Christ. I didn’t like the sound of that. ‘What do you mean?’
She pressed her lips tightly together for a second, then rummaged in her handbag. ‘I’m sorry if this makes me seem like an interfering busybody,’ she said. ‘Forgive an old lady her whims.’ She pulled something out of a paper bag and held it out to me on her palm. ‘But I just wondered if you might need this. I was a fainter, you see, when I was pregnant with Ed.’
My mouth went dry as I stared from her face down to the rectangular box on her hand. Clearblue Pregnancy Test, I read. ‘Oh,’ I said stupidly.
‘I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn,’ she went on, ‘or poking my nose in where it’s not wanted. But I thought maybe . . . Well, call it a mother’s hunch. Seeing you so pale and tired, it just reminded me of how I felt, back then.’
I reached out and took the box wordlessly. Awk-ward! I heard my best friend Amber sing in my head. ‘Um. Thanks,’ I said. Despite my mad feelings of broodiness, being a total plum, it hadn’t occurred to me that I could possibly be pregnant. We’d always used protection, for one thing.
‘Sorry,’ she said again into the strained silence that followed. ‘Feel free to ignore me and my hunches.’
I half-smiled in reply, but was distracted by trying to remember the last time I’d had a period. My mind had gone blank. Victoria was still looking at me, her head tipped on one side, her mouth anxious. I could tell she was wondering if she’d just overstepped the mark. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ I managed to say. ‘It’s probably only a virus, but . . .’ I tapped the box, ‘worth checking out.’
My heart boomed, my head a jumble of thoughts and feelings. Then I heard Ed’s heavy tread on the stairs, and knew I had to get the test out of sight before he walked in on this strange tableau. ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled again and dashed out of the room, giddy with what-ifs and maybes. Had that actually just happened? And where had Victoria bought the test anyway? It must have been from Betty’s grocery shop, in which case the gossip would be all round the village before you could say ‘Up the duff’. Not sure who she was – a very well-spoken lady in a good wool coat . . . Oh, really? As in Ed from the café? So the test must be for . . . Mmmm. Fancy that. Very interesting.
Safely in our bedroom, I turned the test over in my hands, wondering if Victoria could possibly be right. I’d always assumed I’d just know if I was pregnant. Call it maternal instinct, call it the incessant puking that both my sisters had suffered from the word go . . . I thought I’d twig if anything monumental was taking place in my own body. What kind of idiot blundered about obliviously, until their boyfriend’s mum prodded them into action? Their boyfriend’s mum, by the way, who’d been under their roof for less than twenty-four hours. I’d never been the most observant of people, but this was ridiculous.
I put a hand on my belly. Same as ever: a bit soft and wobbly, but that was because I was shacked up with a chef, rather than anything else. I hadn’t rushed to the loo with morning sickness, like they always did in soap operas. I hadn’t had any weird cravings for soap or coal or chalk. No, I decided, shaking my head. Victoria must be having a senior moment. One faint plus a bit of knackeredness did not necessarily equal impending motherhood.
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Ed put his head around the door at that moment and I shoved the box under the pillow and jumped to my feet, pretending I was straightening the duvet. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked breezily. ‘Mum’s just having a drink, and then we’re going to head off along the cliff path to scatter Dad’s ashes. Do you want to come with us, or would you rather stay here and put your feet up?’
It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to look at the pillow in a reflex twitch of guilt. Usually I told him my every waking thought – well, apart from what was in his Christmas presents – and it felt weird and treacherous not to let him into the strange and secret moment I’d just shared with his mum. ‘I’ll stay here,’ I said, leaning over to neaten the pile of books on my bedside table so that he couldn’t see my expression. I had the worst poker-face ever. ‘It’s a family thing; you and Victoria should go alone.’
Besides, I thought, as he kissed me goodbye and went to find his walking boots, I had something else to be getting on with: my own possible ‘family thing’ to investigate. An old lady’s whim to set straight, more like, I told myself, confident that Victoria would be proved wrong, but I might as well find out for sure.