“Hey! Go easy with the glitter!” Lucie chuckled as she gazed at the children gathered around the small table in front of her. Aged seven or eight, they were still small enough to sit in the specially sized plastic chairs that the school provided for its younger pupils, although some of them kept standing up as their card-making enthusiasm overwhelmed them. Lucie was also perched on one of the chairs, although she couldn’t help being aware that there was a slight overhang of bottom on either side.
“Is my card okay?”
Lucie met Jacob McGurl’s innocent green eyes. He held out his creation for her to check, and as he lifted it a mixture of purple and gold glitter drifted onto the old newspapers spread out on the table.
“Let me see.” Lucie took the card and smiled. “It’s beautiful, Jacob.” He had drawn a picture of him standing next to a Christmas tree with his mother. They were smiling, their oversized two-dimensional heads as round as coins. They both wore wellies and glitter snow was falling from the rather sunny sky. In the top right corner of the card was another figure. It had wings and wore a long silver gown. Its one stick hand was outstretched, as if it were waving at the people below. Lucie’s throat tightened as she realized the significance of the figure at the top.
“Do you think my mummy will like it?” Jacob asked, sniffing, then rubbing his nose on his sleeve.
Lucie nodded slowly. She took in his pale face, his chapped lips and his light brown hair that was in need of a cut. “I think she’ll love it, sweetheart.”
A smile broke out on his face.
“That’s Daddy in the sky, watching over us. Mummy said he’s an angel now and he’ll always be watching over me. I wish he was here though. I told her I don’t want him to be in the sky, I want him home again.”
“Of course you do, Jacob.”
“But he had the cancer and it was too strong for him and he died.” Lucie tried to keep a neutral expression as Jacob told her about his father in the matter-of-fact way that children often did. He’d passed away during the summer, after a short fight against pancreatic cancer that had stolen him away from his wife and child in barely a few weeks. It was tragic in so many ways, and Lucie wished that she could make it all better for this young boy.
“I want my Mummy to have a good Christmas. She’s been very sad this year because she misses my Daddy so much.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“Last night I heard my nanny McGurl telling Mummy that she didn’t want Christmas to come, but Mummy shouted at her that we would have Christmas no matter what. I was in bed but I heard them, and I crept to the top of the stairs and listened. I know it was naughty, but I was worried.”
Lucie glanced at the other children around the table, but they were all absorbed in their festive creativity, ignoring the outpouring that was happening right next to them. This happened sometimes; children would start talking about something that was going on in their lives, then it would all pour out as if the floodgates had opened. It was difficult when the subjects of their conversations were as emotional as this, but Lucie knew that Jacob needed to speak to someone and he had chosen her. So she would listen and be as reassuring as she could.
“Is Nanny McGurl your Daddy’s mummy then?”
He nodded then sniffed again. “She said she doesn’t want Christmas because Daddy won’t be there. It will never be the same again.”
Lucie gently laid his card on the table.
“But your Mummy will want you to have a good Christmas, because that’s what your Daddy would want, Jacob.”
“Yes, that’s what she told me this morning. My Daddy loved Christmas and always bought the tree and made us cake and made it all fun.” He paused, lost in his thoughts. “I miss him,” he whispered as his eyes filled with tears.
“I know you do.” Lucie took his hand and he stood next to her then placed his head on her shoulder and cried quietly. One of the girls briefly looked up and saw Jacob leaning on Lucie but she shrugged and went back to her glitter pot. “Your Daddy will miss you too, Jacob, but he would want you to be happy, because he loves you very much.” She patted his back then slid her free hand into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a tissue. Jacob lifted his head and nodded solemnly then let Lucie wipe his eyes and nose.
“I’m being brave for my mummy.”
“You are very brave, Jacob. But she won’t mind if you cry. Don’t try to hold your sadness in.”
“I can tell you, Miss Quigley. Can’t I?”
“Yes, you can. Anytime you need to tell me, I’m here to listen.”
The class teacher caught Lucie’s eye over Jacob’s shoulder and mouthed Is he okay? Lucie gave her a quick nod to show that she was dealing with the situation.
“Well, this is a beautiful card. How about if we make some special decorations for your tree, too?”
“Yes, please.” Jacob smiled and released her hand, then took his seat.
As Lucie handed him pieces of card, some small silver stars, and the non-toxic glue that smelt strangely like popcorn, she thought about what he’d said. She tried to ignore the blob of snot on her right shoulder. This young boy had lost his father just months ago. He’d overheard an argument between his mother and grandmother that he should never have had to hear. But these things happened. And, in spite of everything he’d been through, he still wanted to celebrate Christmas. So that his mother could enjoy it, and in memory of his father. Her heart ached for him, but it swelled with pride too. He was being so brave and positive – and he was only seven years old.
She watched as he carefully cut out a snowman, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. She thought then about Dale two evenings ago, bringing her a tree and asking her to try to enjoy some aspects of the festive season. Guilt washed over her. If this child could put some enthusiasm into celebrating Christmas for his mother’s sake, and if Dale could go to such lengths to help her enjoy the festivities, then she should try too. Not just be tolerant of it, but aim for something more. She had no right to be so stubborn, so glum, when others around her were making such an effort.
“Here you are, Jacob. This will add some extra sparkle.” She held out the plastic tube of gold glitter.
“Thank you, miss,” he said, and as he smiled at her, his puffy red eyes crinkling at the corners, Lucie knew that the time had come to start making some big changes in her own attitude.
Lucie parked her car and pulled up the handbrake. As the engine ticked over, seemingly affronted by the chilly air, she tried to prepare herself for what she was about to do.
Visiting her father and stepmother was never easy. Her father had remarried ten years ago, and since then he’d changed. He was not the man Lucie knew before. It could be that he’d actually become the man he was meant to be all along, the man he would have been if her mother had survived, but that was something Lucie would never know. The main issue now was that every visit was surrounded by drama. She’d never known a woman who craved attention like her stepmother did – except for her stepsisters, perhaps.
She took a few deep breaths, then grabbed her handbag and the tote bag of gifts, from the passenger footwell, and got out of the car. She’d deliberately parked further along the street, even though there was a space in front of her father’s driveway, because she wanted to gather her thoughts before they saw that she’d arrived. Thelma always seemed to pounce on her, rushing out onto the driveway and berating her for something or other before she could even get to her father, and that was something that Lucie always tried to avoid.
Today, she’d won this small victory. Next time, who knew?
She walked along the street, then turned left onto the Quigley drive and approached the front door. Sure enough, before she could even raise her hand to knock, the door swung inwards and there was Thelma, her jet black beehive hairsprayed in place, its colour only broken by the white-blonde streaks in her thick fringe. She was clad in a pink velour tracksuit with a fluffy white kitten over her left breast. The kitten was wearing a collar that sparkled with rhinestones. Because, well, Thelma loved rhinestones.
“Lucie! Wherever is your car? I’ve been watching out for you for the past thirty-three minutes. I thought you told your father you’d be here by eleven? That’s what he said. I’d swear on it, I would. So you’re late! Late! Oh deary me!” She paused, pursing her small fuchsia-coated lips in such a way that her mouth resembled a cat’s bottom. Lucie fought the nervous laughter that bubbled in her belly.
A sudden yelping was followed by a screech from Thelma as something shot out from beneath her. Lucie watched as it headed straight for her then circled her ankles repeatedly like a lasso. “Mary Puppins, stop that right now!” Thelma yelled at her tiny silver Chihuahua. She turned as her husband appeared in the doorway. “I’ve told you not to leave the door open, Mark! A million times!”
“I think you’ll find that you left the door open, darling.” He stepped out into the cold morning.
“Hey, Dad,” Lucie said as she tried to step over the tiny creature that was still racing around her, its tongue dangling from its open mouth.
“Watch it… You’ll squish her!” Thelma screamed.
Lucie wobbled, one leg raised as her stepmother dived at her, making a grab for Mary Puppins.
“Gotcha!”
Lucie turned awkwardly to find Thelma on her knees underneath Lucie’s raised leg, the small dog tucked under her elbow. She glanced at her father, who shrugged resignedly, so she turned on the spot and carefully lowered her leg. Thelma was panting loudly behind her.
“Let me help you up, Thelma.” Mark leaned over and offered his hand.
“You’ll all be the death of me, Mark Quigley. You and your daughter and naughty Mary Puppins,” she said as she hobbled into the house with Mark supporting her by the elbow.
“You’re stronger than you think, my angel,” Mark said as they entered the hallway.
“But my nerves!” Thelma whined. “My poor nerves can’t take it.” She clung to her husband. “I need to lie down now.”
“Yes, dear, of course.”
Lucie stood and watched. The bottom of her stepmother’s pink velour trousers was emblazoned with the words Hot Mama. Her instincts screamed at her, telling her to turn and run, back to her car and her quiet, calm life, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She needed to visit before she headed off to New York. She owed her father that. She probably owed it to Thelma, too, if she was being magnanimous.
Inside, the house was positively tropical, and her fingers tingled as they warmed up. She hadn’t realized quite how chilly it had been outside, but it was evidently cold enough to mess with her circulation. She hung her coat on the banister, then removed her shoes and tucked them onto the rack under the stairs. The house her father had bought with his wife was not one that Lucie would have chosen, but she knew he’d been able to pay for it outright with the life insurance her mother had insisted on having and the proceeds from the sale of their old family home. It was weird, that: as if her mother might have known something was going to happen to her. She’d provided for her husband through her death, but Mark Quigley hadn’t touched the money until he’d become involved with Thelma and she’d wanted to know why he had so much money sitting around in a savings account.
Mark had told Lucie all this not long after he’d got together with Thelma, after consuming a few beers on his birthday. He’d actually seemed proud of his new wife for pushing him to spend the money he’d left untouched for nearly ten years. The thought that her father was surrendering his financial security and independence made Lucie nervous, because if anything went wrong with his second marriage, then Thelma would surely get at least half. But Lucie also felt that it wasn’t her place to interfere, and that her father had to make his own mistakes.
If it was a mistake. Because for all that Thelma could be quite annoying, she really did seem to make her father happy. Hot Mama popped into her head and she grimaced.
Lucie made her way through to the kitchen and found her father filling the kettle.
“Cup of tea, love?”
“Please.”
“Cold out today.”
“Freezing.”
“She’ll be all right, love.” He nodded towards the lounge.
“Oh… yes, I’m sure she will.”
“She’s putting her feet up for ten minutes. She was so excited about you coming around, you know. She got herself a bit worked up. She even bathed Mary Puppins this morning and cleaned the house. Twice.”
Lucie smiled. She knew that Thelma cleaned every day, thoroughly, and that her obsession with cleaning was probably a form of OCD, but there was no point saying that to her father. What good would it do? He probably already knew it, anyway.
“There’s really no need. You should see my flat, Dad. Thelma would probably have a fit.”
He nodded, then dropped tea bags into a pot and poured on boiling water. Lucie watched him carefully, noting how he seemed to have put on a little weight since she’d seen him last, most of it settling around his belly. His chestnut-brown hair was still quite thick at the front, but when he turned away she could see that it was thinning over his crown and a few grey hairs shone as they caught the light. “She’s the same when she goes round to Lauren and Abigail’s. Hates mess, she does, of any kind. And our little Mary Puppins is the cleanest dog in Tonbridge, I don’t doubt it.”
His face brightened, and Lucie saw the father she’d grown up with, the dad who’d played Scrabble with her, who’d held her hand when she couldn’t sleep and who’d practised French with her as preparation for her GCSE oral exam. A sudden pang of loss overwhelmed her. She missed that man. Missed the closeness they’d once shared. But he was happy now, and she couldn’t begrudge him that. He deserved to be with someone he loved. A woman who’d stand by him through whatever life threw at them.
Her father carried their teas on a tray through to the lounge. Thelma was on the sofa, her flesh-coloured popsock-clad feet raised on a cushion, a hand draped across her forehead. She peered at them as they entered the room, then whimpered.
“Here you are, darling, here’s some sweet tea.” Mark placed the mug, featuring a fluffy kitten, on the side table next to his wife.
Lucie took a seat. Peering into her mug, she saw the tea was a deep orange, strong enough to stand a spoon in, as her mother used to say. Her father had always liked his strong, and Lucie had always managed to make it drinkable by adding plenty of milk. However, he had clearly forgotten and she didn’t have the heart to remind him.
“Where’s Mary Puppins?” Thelma asked.
Mark looked around him as if he suspected that the dog was hiding somewhere. “Oh. I thought she’d be with you. Perhaps she’s in the hallway.”
“I’ll check, shall I?” Lucie put her mug on the tray then prepared to search the house. She didn’t have to look far, because there was Mary Puppins, going for gold on her left shoe, the flowered pump folded right over as she humped it like it was the love of her life. “Oh, no! Mary Puppins! Cut it out!” She approached the dog but as she reached out, it growled at her then resumed its humping, pausing only to lick the shoe every so often as if it needed some affectionate encouragement to surrender in that way. “Now, come on, doggie… that’s my shoe.”
Lucie cautiously stretched her arm out again, but the dog froze. Its ears flicked back and its tongue poked out like a serpent’s as it bared tiny white teeth.
“Come on, Puppins. Give me my shoe. Don’t be a little bitch.”
“Best let her wear herself out.”
Lucie jumped.
“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you. But I find it’s best to let her do whatever she needs to do. Let her finish what she started and all that.”
Lucie turned to face her father. “What? Really?”
He nodded. “She gets grouchy if you stop her when she’s engrossed.”
“She makes a habit of this?” Lucie wrinkled her nose, imagining smelly shoes covered in dog drool and goodness knows what else.
“Unfortunately she does. She stole one of Abigail’s shoes just last week – some shiny, strappy affair – and when Abi tried to get it back, Mary Puppins wouldn’t let it go. It was one of those expensive designer thingies as well and Abi was furious.” He shrugged. “But what can you do?”
“Put your shoes somewhere else?” Lucie stared at the open shoe rack tucked in the space beneath the stairwell. Surely the dog had easy access to all the shoes there, so putting them higher up might make more sense.
“It’s an idea, love, for sure,” her father replied, as if it had never occurred to him. “Let’s go drink our tea, shall we?”
Lucie gave her pump once last glance, winced at the growing stain on the toe where the dog kept licking it, then followed her father back into the lounge. That was yet another thing she’d need to add to her going away list – a new pair of shoes. Somehow she didn’t think the pair she’d worn today would ever be quite the same.
The first hour of her visit passed with polite conversation in her father and stepmother’s spotless lounge. Lucie nodded and shook her head and made all the right noises as Thelma told her all about her varicose veins – which she tried to show Lucie by peeling down her popsocks, but which didn’t look all that swollen from Lucie’s perspective – and about her frozen shoulder – which actually seemed pretty mobile – and about her female problems – which Lucie tried to block out, as she really had no desire to hear about her stepmother’s irregular menstrual cycle, or how she suspected that she had cysts on her ovaries and might need a hysterectomy.
Lucie watched Thelma carefully as she talked, the diatribe clearly making her feel more and more sorry for herself by the moment. At fifty-five, Thelma was an attractive woman, even with her puckered mouth. Her black hair with its streaked fringe was expertly coloured, no greys on show, and her skin glowed with what must be fake tan, as they hadn’t seen the sun for some time. She had large green eyes that were always emphasized with a thick flick of liquid liner. She could easily pass for someone much younger. Yet even ten years earlier, Thelma had been like this. Lucie could recall the first time she met her and how she’d been treated to a retelling of Thelma’s latest doctor’s visit.
Afterwards, as he drove her home, Mark had quietly explained that Thelma had suffered a bad childhood and that it left her neurotic about certain things, yet he had seemed very accepting of his new partner’s ways. Thinking about it now, Lucie wondered if it was Thelma’s apparent vulnerabilities that had drawn her father to his new wife; had he been afraid of being abandoned again? A woman as needy as Thelma would surely never leave him. It was more than likely that she would, in fact, always need him.
Lucie swallowed the dregs of her third mug of strong tea and tried not to grimace. “Thanks, Dad. That was a great cuppa.”
“Anytime, love, anytime. Now, how about some lunch? After we’ve eaten, I’ve got something for you.”
“You have?”
He nodded. “Not a Christmas gift, although we do have a little something here for you somewhere, but Thelma said you can have it when you come home from your trip. If that’s all right?”
Lucie smiled her assent. Thelma’s need to be in control, even over something as trivial as when she received her presents, didn’t surprise her. Last week Lucie had informed her father that she’d be away over Christmas, and he’d actually seemed a bit relieved. Possibly because it meant one less person to worry about when trying to negotiate Christmas plans.
“That’s great, thanks.” Lucie flashed a smile at Thelma, but her stepmother was fanning herself with a TV guide. “So what else do you have for me?” She hoped it was books. Sometimes her father picked up books he thought she might like from the second-hand book stalls at the market, and she liked his eclectic selection. They weren’t usually the kind of thing she’d have chosen herself but she enjoyed the challenge of reading something different.
“It’s a box of old things that I found in the attic the other day. Bits and bobs left over from your childhood. I’d forgotten it was there, but when I showed Thelma she said I should give it to you. ‘No sense in it being up there,’ she said. ‘It’s clutter,’ she said, and besides… she thought it was time you had some of your things now you’re settled in your own place and not likely to move for a while.”
Lucie watched her father carefully. “I am happy there, Dad. I love my flat.”
“And now that you’re… involved.” Thelma sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the sofa.
“What?”
Thelma nodded. “I saw Dale’s mother at the supermarket. She told me all about it. We’ve been waiting for you to tell us too!” She clapped her hands, her fragility apparently forgotten.
“He’s a good one that Dale. Always liked him.” Mark looked at Lucie and her colour rose.
“What did Glenda say, exactly?” Lucie glanced from Mark to Thelma and back again.
“That you two have finally admitted that you’re in love and that things look… well… You are going off to New York together for Christmas.” Thelma made a kissing noise and winked. “Why didn’t you tell us? You should have told us, Lucie. It’s not nice finding out things about my step-daughter second hand you know. I was positively mortified! Wasn’t I, Mark?”
He nodded. “Mortified.”
“So don’t do that, Lucie. Don’t keep such important matters from us. We are your parents, you know!”
Lucie swallowed a retort. She was too old to be biting back with you’re not my mother. It was clear that there was no point trying to deny things. It would only complicate matters. Better to let everyone believe what they wanted until after Christmas, then their fake breakup could be done for the benefit of everyone. If she admitted the truth here today, it might prove too much for the gossipy Thelma, and she could well take it all back to Glenda and Hank. And knowing they’d been deceived would be devastating for Dale’s parents. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. Glenda found out accidentally. It’s just early days and we were going to tell you soon. I promise. But now I don’t need to.”
“We’re happy for you, Lucie. Really happy. Maybe you can enjoy Christmas this year, eh? Now you’ve got yourself a nice man to spend it with.” Her father leaned over and squeezed her hand then began to clear the mugs.
Lucie opened her mouth to agree, but her attention was captured by Mary Puppins racing into the room dragging a now very battered shoe. Then, as if deliberately mocking Lucie, the dog mounted her find on the rug, and proceeded to show Lucie exactly how much damage a Chihuahua could do to a flowered ballet pump.
Lucie finished drying the last dinner plate then folded the tea towel and placed it on the kitchen worktop. “That was a lovely lunch, thanks Dad.”
“No problem at all. I enjoy cooking now I’ve got more time.”
“Retirement suits you.” Lucie smiled at him.
“I’m glad I could retire at sixty-one. I know that the pension age for people of your generation will be much higher.”
“Work til you drop, eh?” Lucie shook her head. “It’s wrong, but with an aging population, things will be difficult.”
“Marry a rich man and you won’t have to worry.”
Lucie’s eyes snapped up, but her father was laughing. “Good plan! When you find one, snag him for me.”
“You’ve got Dale now and I’m sure he’ll be able to give you a good life and look after you. And it’s not just about money anyway, is it love? You need to be with someone who’ll love you and be true to you, someone who won’t…”
They fell into a silence that lasted for a few minutes, each of them lost in their thoughts. But Lucie suspected that her father was thinking the same thing she was. About Mum.
“Anyway, I wanted you to have that box of things, so I’ll go get it. You can make us another cuppa if you like.”
He left the kitchen and Lucie filled the kettle. She dropped tea bags into the pot and splashed milk into three mugs. Whenever she visited her father, she always drank at least six mugs of tea. She was glad that Mark seemed happy with his lot. After her mother had died, he’d been understandably distraught, lost and confused for a long time. He’d gone through the stages of grief with textbook predictability; his anger and frustration often giving way to bouts of despair and depression. But he’d always been there for Lucie when she’d needed him. She’d tried to support him too, tried to be a good daughter and to help him see that there was still fun to be had, that life could still offer enjoyment. But it had been hard. They’d both been so shocked.
Lucie poured the boiling water over the teabags, appreciating the familiar sound of water hitting the bottom of the teapot. Small things like that had helped her keep going when things seemed really bleak. As had her father. And Dale. She laughed as she recalled him pulling her into Glenda’s cloakroom to tell her that they had to pretend to be dating. And all because he was prepared to go to New York with her, to support her. Again.
“What’re you chuckling about?” Mark asked as he came into the kitchen carrying a battered cardboard box. Scrawled on the side in thick black marker was written: FOR LUCIE.
“Oh, nothing. Just a joke I heard recently.”
He nodded as if he knew what she meant, then put the box on the table.
“Don’t pour one for Thelma. She’s gone for a nap.”
“Oh. Okay.” Exactly how much napping and lying down did her stepmother do? It was a wonder she got anything done around the house.
Lucie filled two mugs with tea and took them to the table.
“Thanks, love.” He stared at the surface of his tea. “You know, Thelma needs me.”
“I can see that.”
“And it’s good for me. Can you understand that, Lucie?” He scanned her face with his blue eyes, so much like her own. “I never really felt that your mother did. It was as if she was holding something back. But Thelma… well, she is who she is. She might be a bit of,” he lowered his voice, “a pain sometimes. Don’t tell her I said that.” He winked. “But I know that she loves me and needs me. She’s not always like this… ill and so on. We do have fun. We enjoy watching TV together and going shopping and… you know… lots of things old people do.”
“You’re not old, Dad! But I do know you’re happy together. And I know that you love each other madly. Life is short, and you have to grab happiness while you can.”
“That’s why I’m glad you and Dale have finally admitted your feelings for each other. He’ll have your back, Lucie. He’ll look after you and that’s all a man can ask, for his daughter.”
Lucie didn’t want to lie to her father, but it was too late to tell him the truth. Besides, Dale did look after her, so it wasn’t a complete lie, just bending the truth a little. “So what’s in the box?”
“Things you should have had long ago. Things from your childhood, from your mum.”
“I wish she’d known her own parents.”
“Me too. It was something she carried with her always. That sadness from being shunted from one foster home to another…”
“Pam was always keen to prove herself, desperate to ensure that people saw her worth.”
“You think that’s why she…” Lucie bit her lip, unable to voice her thoughts.
He nodded. “Quite possibly, love. When my parents were around, though, she did love them. And they completely adored her. She was just eighteen when we met – so wild and rebellious. I was bowled over by her, obsessed even. After we first met, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and I went to the phone box about ten times a day to call her. I must’ve spent a fortune just to hear her voice. When she finally agreed to go out with me, and I took her home, Mam and Dad fell for her too. They used to treat her as if she was their own daughter… Dad was always slipping her money to get her hair done or to buy things for you.”
“I miss Granny and Grandad. Even after all these years.”
“Me too, love. Every day. Just like I miss your mum. When my parents died, your mum missed them too, and losing them had a lasting impact upon her. She’d never had that type of unconditional love and losing it broke something inside her. She was never the same afterwards. I tried so hard to make her happy, to be the husband she wanted me to be, but I just don’t think I had what she needed.”
Lucie slid her hand over his. “You can go through the box now or take it home and look through it in your own time. There’s quite a bit in there. Might be a bit emotional, you know.”
“Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll leave it until later then. I need to get going soon anyway.”
“Of course.”
They finished their tea, then Lucie went to search of her shoes. Mary Puppins had fallen asleep on her soft pink bed, next to the sofa in the lounge. Her tiny ribcage rose and fell, and each time she exhaled, her tongue poked out from between her teeth and waggled. Lucie located her shoe under the coffee table then sneaked back out of the room. As she was gingerly slipping her foot into the sticky pump, her father came out into the hallway carrying the box. He handed it to her. “I’ll tell Thelma you said goodbye, shall I?”
“Please, Dad.”
She leaned forwards and pecked his cheek, inhaling his familiar spicy aftershave. He patted her shoulder, awkward now with his adult daughter. “Take care, Lucie, and have fun in New York. Be very careful if you go on that subway mind, as I’ve read that it can be dangerous at night. All sorts of undesirables travelling on it just waiting for the next naïve tourist to attack.”
“I think that’s scaremongering, Dad, but I promise I’ll be careful. And Dale will be with me. Not many people are going to mess with him, being the size he is.”
“Say hello to him for us and make sure to bring him round for dinner when you get home.”
“I will.”
Lucie smiled at her father then walked to her car. She was relieved that her father hadn’t expected her to go through the box in front of him. It was something best done in her own home, alone. And that was what she intended to do.
Lucie switched on the lamps in the lounge, casting shadows across the wooden floor. The afternoon was dark and it felt much later than three-thirty. A light drizzle was falling, and it made even the inside of her flat feel cold and damp.
She was about to sit down when the tree Dale had bought caught her eye, so she went over and turned the fairy lights on. They twinkled agreeably, giving her lounge a warm glow, and she silently thanked her friend for being so considerate.
Once she’d made a mug of tea, she took it into the lounge and sat on the sofa. For Lucie.
What was inside the box?
She wished that someone was with her so she could ask them to look first. If Dale was here, he’d do it. But he wasn’t. And her curiosity wouldn’t wait until he was.
She needed to do this now.
As she reached for the lid, her hands trembled slightly. But she knew that she had to look. She absolutely had to.
She gently lifted the lid. She scooted to the edge of the sofa then peered in. It all looked innocuous enough – lots of pieces of paper, brown and white envelopes, and what appeared to be a photo album.
It couldn’t hurt to look, could it?
She removed the album first and ran a hand over the bumpy green cover. It seemed to be made out of lots of narrow strips of thick paper or card all woven together. Her name was on the front, written in gold foil and covered with cellotape that was peeling up at the edges. As she opened the cover, a waft of memories flooded through her as the scent of violets emerged.
“Mum,” she whispered, her throat closing over. Her mother had always worn a distinctive perfume and somehow, the fragrance was captured within the pages of this album. Then she saw why. There was a sprig of flowers taped to the inside of the front cover, tiny dried violets that were brittle with age and storage. She touched one gently and it crumbled beneath her fingers, the dark purple dust staining her skin. “Mum,” she said again, as pain rose in her chest. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, well aware now that this would not be easy.
The first page of the album showed her mother and father posing for the camera. Her mother had a Bonnie Tyler eighties haircut, permed and backcombed. Her skin glowed from time spent in the sun – no doubt without sun-cream – and her eyes were bright green against her tan. Next to her stood Lucie’s father; taller and skinnier than she’d ever seen him, his face radiating happiness. Mark’s hair was thick and spiky, and in his face Lucie could see her own. It was a strong resemblance, apart from the long, golden moustache which sat above his top lip, testament to the fashion at the time. One arm was wrapped around her mother’s back, but his other hand rested on her mother’s protruding belly, proud and protective. Lucie smiled at the hope in their faces, at how they clearly thought they had a lifetime ahead of them, starting with the imminent arrival of their first child.
Turning over the page, she found several photographs of her early days, in which her parents both had that pale, exhausted and terrified look of new parents. The shock of being responsible for another human being had evidently affected them enormously, as had the sleep deprivation. But there was also love in their expressions, deep, protective, overwhelming, terrifying love. As they cradled her in their arms, sat next to her crib, or pushed her in the big old-fashioned pram, their feelings for their new child showed in the way their bodies were turned towards her in every shot.
The next few pages charted her toddler years, featuring a potty, a ride-on car, a white and green checked highchair with long wooden legs and a red harness, as well as moments captured with her grandparents. Some of the photographs were Polaroids, with their thick white borders. Her grandmother wore glasses that were now trendy again, with thick black frames. Seeing family members that were no longer around made Lucie feel strange, as if a dark cloud had settled over her, yet occasional rays of sunshine broke through. It was so good to look back on happy times and run her eyes over their faces, remembering little details, yet it was also painful, because it brought home how real they had once been. Her grandparents and her mother were just like her; people with hopes and dreams and futures ahead of them. Until they weren’t. And one day, perhaps someone would do what Lucie was doing right now, look back at photographs of her and wonder how she used to feel, what she had wanted and what her dreams had been. It made her want to run out and grab hold of the people she knew and loved, to hug them tight and remind them how much she cared about them; that whatever happened in life, they were once there, with her, alive.
Just over halfway through the album, she found a blank page. Beneath the sticky see-through plastic were two squares that were lighter than the rest of the page. She stared at them for a moment, wondering why someone had removed the photographs. From somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, a whisper of a memory surfaced. At first blurry, undefined as smoke, until the scent of violets and the mustiness of the album itself, lent it shape.
*The baby! *
Her little brother.
Stillborn seven months into the pregnancy, when she was six.
The nights she’d lain in her small single bed listening to her mother crying, the sound muffled by the walls and the pillow that Pam had buried her face in.
But still. Lucie had heard her. Lucie had known.
There had been a second pregnancy, but there had been no second child. How devastating that must have been for her parents. Life-changing. How did people come back from that?
Perhaps they never really did.
The missing photographs were of her mother during that second pregnancy, taken from the album by Pam herself, or perhaps by Lucie’s father. Who knew? It had been done to protect Lucie, to protect her parents. To save them all the pain of looking at the promises that had been made, things that had been possible, but were lost before they’d even had a chance to begin. There had been no pictures of the baby, no evidence of his existence except for those photos taken during Pam’s pregnancy.
After everything Pam had suffered growing up, to think she was creating her perfect little family, then to have it taken away, must have destroyed her. And Mark. But wasn’t that how life worked? Other people’s lives could look perfect from the outside, yet in reality they were just as sorrowful as the next. Everyone had troubles to bear.
Lucie flicked through the rest of the album, registering her childhood, yet unable to ignore the sadness in her parents’ eyes, the lack of joy in their smiles for the camera, the sense that something was missing. Someone was missing. Something had fractured and everything had changed.
And at that moment, she understood her mother a little better.
And her heart ached.
“Thanks for coming round.” Lucie walked through to the lounge and Dale followed, then slumped onto the sofa next to her.
“Where else would I be? I mean, you’re my girlfriend now, remember?” He squeezed her shoulder.
“My father and Thelma think so too.” She tucked her legs underneath her.
“They do?”
Lucie nodded. “They bumped into your mother and she couldn’t keep the joy out of her voice apparently. I bet she’s told everyone, Dale!”
“Even the postman.”
“She’ll be wanting us to pose for a Christmas card soon.”
“That’s okay. I have a Christmas jumper ready.”
“Dale, be serious! All this will make it harder to call off the relationship, you know?”
He watched as a tiny line appeared between her brows. He was trying to keep everything to do with their fake relationship light-hearted, but he could tell that something else was bothering Lucie. In fact, as he studied her closely, he could see that her eyes and nose were red, as if she’d been crying.
“Has something happened?”
She chewed her lip and nodded at the box on the coffee table.
“You got me an early gift?”
“Dale!”
“Sorry. What is it?”
“My father gave it to me today. It’s full of old things… from my childhood.”
“Oh.” His stomach rolled. This didn’t sound good.
“Photographs, school reports, cards – stuff like that.”
“You’ve been through it all?”
“Yes. It was strange… kind of nice, yet also really, really sad.”
“I get that. You did have some awful hairstyles back then, Luce.”
“Shut up!” She scowled at him. “I don’t mean like that, although my hair was quite bad in the nineties, but it was going through the photos. It was lovely to look at them, but it also hurt.” She rubbed at her chest. Dale moved a bit closer to Lucie.
“You want to show me?”
“Okay.”
He sat and listened as she talked him through the photographs; some she recalled being taken, but for many she’d been so young that she had no memory of them at all. She was so cute as a child, all blonde curls and dimples, with sparkling blue eyes full of mischief. But when she got to a page that was blank, with two lighter spaces where photographs had clearly been removed, she went quiet.
“What were these photos here, Luce? Did you take them out?”
She shook her head. “It was when my mother got pregnant again.”
He ran a hand over his head. “God, I remember that. Vaguely. She…” He stopped. How could you describe what happened to Lucie’s little brother?
“Lost him. He was stillborn. Arrived too early. Now they might have been able to save him…”
“Yes, perhaps. So sad.”
Lucie leaned her head on Dale’s shoulder. “I hadn’t thought about him in ages. He’s always been just a memory, and because he never even took a breath, I didn’t know him. Not at all.”
“You were really young too, Luce.”
“Yes, there’s that.”
“I kind of remember you telling me about it in school… and I think we talked about it years later when we’d had a few beers… but…”
“It’s one of those things you just forget about – deliberately, I think. Self-preservation. Until you’re reminded.”
He moved slightly, so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled closer. They sat quietly for a while, staring at the blank spaces on the page as if they held the answers to their unspoken questions. “Did you speak to your dad about this?”
“No. I didn’t open the box until I came home, so I don’t know if he removed the photos or if it was my mother. I haven’t seen this album in years and it ends before she… you know.”
Dale flicked through a few more pages and sure enough, the photos stopped when Lucie turned twelve. The final photograph was of her twelfth birthday party. “Is that me?” He pointed at a head in the background, but it was hard to tell, as the image was dark and fuzzy.
“I think so. I had some friends round, so you were probably there.”
“Why’d she stop taking photos?” He frowned as he looked at the twelve-year-old Lucie, her face still innocent. Her life still whole. Her heart still unbroken. Her mother still there to support and comfort her.
She shrugged. “Perhaps that was when things started to change. Perhaps the camera broke, or perhaps she just didn’t get the films developed. I guess we’ll never know. There are a few odd pictures in the box too – that she might have taken then, or they could be from someone else, but she stopped putting them in the album at this point. She must have had other priorities.”
“You’d have started secondary school, she might have been a bit lost,” he suggested gently.
“Maybe.”
“So what else is in there?” As he’d done thousands of times before, he wished he could help Lucie, take away her pain. But he couldn’t. All he could do was be there.
Twenty minutes later, Dale was wiping away tears of laughter.
“Oh Luce, I can’t believe you were so bad at P.E.”
“I was never the athletic type, Dale. It’s not that funny.”
“But this comment here… Lucie could try harder in gym class. Deliberately throwing herself at the high-jump bar so she can spend the lesson sitting on the benches talking to her friends does not qualify as making an effort.”
“Well if I hit it off three times, I got to chill out. It seemed ridiculous to keep on trying when I was rubbish at it anyway.”
“And this one… Lucie must try not to throw the discus straight at her teacher’s head.”
“Well, she kept telling me to spin around before I let go. I told her and told her that I couldn’t do it but she wouldn’t listen. So when I did spin and release the damned thing, I couldn’t help what direction it flew off in.”
“Did it hit her?” Dale pictured the P.E. teacher being knocked out by a discus.
“No. But only because she had lightning-quick reactions and she ducked in time.”
“Oh, Luce! You’re so funny.” He wiped his eyes again then looked at her.
In the late afternoon darkness, with just the lights from the tree and the two floor lamps, the lounge was cosy and festive. Lucie had pulled her hair into a messy bun, and some of it had sprung out so that tendrils hung around her cheeks and over her forehead. Dale pushed a curl away, but it bounced back into place. He tried to speak, but his voice was lodged in his throat, so he just stared at her instead.
She was beautiful.
She was perfect.
She was his soul mate.
But he had always known that.
She leaned forwards and kissed his cheek, then slid her arm over his chest and snuggled into him. And he wondered if she could feel his heart beating hard, if she suspected at all that it did so just for her.
That it had always done so.
Just for her.
Lucie and Dale paused in front of the stall and waited for Glenda and Hank to catch up. The trip to the Tonbridge Christmas market was an annual affair for Dale’s parents, and this year Glenda had insisted that Dale and Lucie tag along. Lucie didn’t mind; she was, in fact, quite enjoying the Sunday morning stroll around the pretty festive stalls with their colourful crafts. The market catered to a wide variety of needs and there was so much to see: from cakes to preserves, clothes to boots, jewellery to dog beds. The stalls were decorated with holly, ivy and mistletoe, and elaborately decorated Christmas trees were dotted around the perimeter of the long stay car park, making its mundane everyday purpose easy to forget.
The fresh winter air was fragrant with mulled wine, donuts, crepes and hog roast, and although it was only mid-morning, Lucie’s stomach rumbled. She hoped that they would stop for refreshments at some point so they could savour the delights on offer.
“See anything you like, Lucie?” Glenda squeezed in next to her and eyed the pretty silver jewellery.
“I have to be honest, Glenda, it’s all beautiful.”
“Dale!” Glenda reached around Lucie and tapped her son’s shoulder. “Perfect opportunity here, you know.”
Lucie was suddenly too hot in her woollen coat and black beret. She loosened her scarf and let the cold air caress her throat.
“Yes, mother, thank you.” Dale sighed as if frustrated with Glenda’s interference.
“Just saying.” Glenda turned to Hank. “Let’s find somewhere to have a warm drink and leave these two alone for a moment so they can look at the jewellery in peace.”
Lucie turned just in time to see Glenda winking at her husband.
“Yes, darling.” Hank shuffled after his wife, laden with bags: Glenda was on a mission to get as much of her Christmas shopping done as possible.
“Have you seen anything you like, Luce?” Dale asked.
“It’s all very pretty.”
“Well, you know… you are my girlfriend now, so I am allowed to buy you things.”
Lucie met his gaze and although he was smiling playfully, there was something serious in his eyes. It made her heartbeat quicken.
“Oh, Dale, I don’t know. I still feel a bit bad about all this. Your mum is so happy that we’re together.”
“Does it make you wonder what it would be like if we really were?” he asked, suddenly finding something on his shoe intensely interesting.
How to answer that?
Lucie nudged him. “How d’you fancy a hot chocolate?”
He looked up. “Or a mulled wine?”
“Dale Treharne! Isn’t it a bit early for that?”
“Dad’s driving.”
“Oh okay, why not. It does smell delicious.”
“You find Mum and Dad and I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Why? What’re you going to do?”
“I’ve seen something I want to pick up.” He gestured at the stall.
“What, for you?” she teased.
“No… I, uh… I think Mum might like it.”
“Have you? Which one? I didn’t know Glenda liked silver, she always wears that gold chain your Dad bought her. And her rings are all gold too.”
“Lucie…” He widened his eyes. “Take a hint.”
“Oh. Okay. Don’t be long.”
Lucie turned and headed in the direction she’d seen Hank and Glenda go, the thought of a mulled wine too tempting to resist. But she couldn’t help wondering what it was that had caught Dale’s eye, and if it was, as she suspected, actually for her.
Dale watched as the woman at the jewellery stall wrapped the silver pendant in purple tissue paper. As soon as he’d seen the tiny book with the opal heart on its cover, he’d known that it would be perfect for Lucie. He’d been contemplating how to purchase it discreetly when his mother had made the comment about getting Lucie something from the stall. Typical Mum, making everything seem so black and white, when in reality, things were far more complicated.
He bought Lucie gifts every year, and always chose them carefully, but he’d never ventured as far as jewellery. It wasn’t the type of thing friends bought for each other; it was too intimate. But this pendant was different. For starters, it was a book, which was appropriate. In addition, it was silver, and he’d only ever seen Lucie wear silver jewellery, so in that respect, it was perfect. Finally, it just felt like the right time to get her something this pretty, this personal and special.
“Here you go.” The stallholder handed him the small parcel. “I’ve wrapped it in plenty of tissue so it will protect the opal. It’s such a pretty piece, isn’t it?”
Dale nodded.
“I think your girlfriend will love it. The opal will match her pretty eyes.”
“Thank you. She does have pretty eyes.” He glanced behind the woman. “Can I have two of those, too?”
“Yes, of course.”
He tucked the small parcel into his jacket pocket, then went in search of Lucie and his parents.
Lucie waved at Dale as he walked towards them. He manoeuvered his way through the metal chairs and tables then sat next to her.
“So, what did you buy?” Glenda asked, leaning forwards eagerly.
“These.” Dale held up two red Santa hats with big white pompoms on the ends. He removed his beanie then pulled one of the Santa hats on. “The other one is for you, Lucie.”
She scrunched up her nose. “You want me to wear that?”
“This is a Christmas market and we are getting into the festive spirit. So yes, I would like you to wear the Santa hat.”
Lucie nodded. “Okay then.” She replaced her beret with the red hat, then smoothed her hair down around her cheeks.
“Suits you.” Dale winked at her.
“Photo opportunity!” Glenda sang as she pulled her mobile from her bag. “Get closer, you two.”
Dale shuffled his chair closer to Lucie’s and wrapped his arm around her, then rested his cheek against hers. As they smiled for photographs, Lucie was acutely aware of how good he smelled and how smooth his clean-shaven cheek felt next to her skin. If she turned just a fraction, she could kiss him.
“Lucie?” It was Glenda. “You’ve gone bright red, dear. Whatever’s wrong?”
“N… nothing. Just rather… warm, all of a sudden.”
She wriggled out from under Dale’s arm and fanned her cheeks with her hands.
“Now that my darling wife has finished taking the photos, shall we get some drinks and a bite to eat?” Hank asked. “I’m famished.”
“Lucie and I would like a mulled wine each,” Dale said. “And I think I’ll have a savoury crepe.”
“That sounds good.” Lucie ran a finger down the menu. “There’s one with brie, bacon and cranberry sauce.”
“Perfect.”
Hank and Dale went to the counter to order. Glenda passed Lucie her mobile. “Check out the photos. You two make a lovely couple.”
Lucie flicked through the pictures. She had to agree with Glenda; she did look good with Dale at her side.
“I wonder what he bought you.” Glenda wiggled her eyebrows. “Something sparkly, I hope.”
Lucie chewed her cheek. She didn’t want to encourage Glenda, but then it seemed that she didn’t need much help seeing more in Lucie and Dale’s relationship than there was in reality. Glenda had her heart set on Lucie and Dale being together. Forever.
“Food will be about ten minutes as they’re quite busy, but here’s a mulled wine to be going on with.” Dale had returned with a large ceramic mug decorated with a very jolly snowman. She picked it up and cradled it between her palms. She breathed in the aromas of clove, nutmeg and ginger. Slices of orange and lemon floated in the wine, and she fought the temptation to lift them out and pop them in her mouth.
Across the car park, a band started playing and the market filled with music and cheer. “This is wonderful, isn’t it? I do love it when the Salvation Army band plays carols.” Glenda leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles. She had a mug of mulled wine too, and Hank had coffee.
“While we wait for food, shall we play a game?” Dale asked.
“A game?” Lucie blew on her wine then took a tentative sip. Her mouth was filled with fruits and spices, the blackberry and cherry of the wine delicately enhanced with citrus and cinnamon.
“Yes. We all share one memory about Christmas. Good or bad.” He glanced at Lucie. “But good would be better, obviously.”
“Go on then.”
“Mum? Do you want to go first?”
Glenda ran her tongue over her teeth. “Yes. Okay. What about the grommets story?”
“Oh, no. Not that one, Mum!”
“Dale, it was one of the most stressful times of my life.”
“What’s this?” Lucie asked.
“Hasn’t she told you this one before, Luce?”
Lucie shook her head.
“It is quite a funny tale,” Hank said.
“It wasn’t funny at the time.” Glenda scowled at her husband. “Well, Lucie. It was the Christmas when Dale was five. He was having terrible trouble with glue ear and the doctors recommended having grommets inserted to help drain the fluid away from the middle ear.”
“Poor Dale.”
“Yes. He had a bit of a rough time of it that winter. We took him to the hospital for the operation and they placed him on a ward with three other children who were all in for the same thing. I was allowed to wait with him in the anaesthetic room until he went through to theatre.” Glenda took a sip of her wine. “The anaesthetist gave him the injection, then told him to relax and go to sleep.”
“But I didn’t.”
Lucie looked at Dale. “It didn’t work?”
“I lay there and closed my eyes, but nothing happened.”
“So what did they do?”
“They gave him another dose. Apparently some people have a higher tolerance than others.”
“But the second dose didn’t work either,” Dale added. “I drifted off for a bit but next thing I knew, I woke up as they were wheeling me through the doors into theatre.”
“Oh my goodness! Were you scared?” Lucie asked.
“Not really.”
“He just looked around him and asked, ‘What’s going on? Where am I?’” Glenda said.
“Then Mum started to cry and told them it wasn’t working.”
“So didn’t you have the operation?”
“Yep. They realized that they needed to do something else, so next thing I knew, they had the anaesthetic gas on me.”
“This was just weeks before Christmas, Lucie. I was a wreck that year.”
“And I proved that I’m superhuman!” Dale laughed.
“But what if you ever have to have another operation?” Lucie was overwhelmed with concern. “It could be dangerous, right?”
“Well, there was that time when he was fourteen and he had to have teeth extracted so they could fit his braces,” Hank said. “I went with him that time – Glenda couldn’t face it.”
“Didn’t it work then?”
“Nope. Had to have extra then, too. More injections in my gums and the roof of my mouth.”
“Dale, that’s awful.”
“What can you do? I just have a high tolerance to anaesthetic.”
“What’s your story, Hank?” Lucie asked.
“That one, I think. Same as Glenda.” Hank finished his coffee. “I can’t top that one.”
“Dale?”
“I think one of my favourites must be the year Dad dressed up as Santa and got stuck on the roof.”
“I remember that one!” Lucie giggled. “You had to get the fire brigade out, didn’t you?”
Hank frowned. “It was not at all funny.”
“It was afterwards, Hank. You were clinging to the chimney for dear life.” Glenda patted her husband’s arm.
“I don’t like heights.” Hank shrugged.
“Well, why did you go up there, Dad?”
“I wanted to convince you boys that Santa was real.”
“But it didn’t work, did it?” Dale asked.
“Nope. I climbed out of the attic window and it shut on me so I couldn’t get back in. The roof tiles were frosty and I realized that I could have a nasty fall. It wasn’t my best decision ever. Your poor mother was downstairs trying to keep you lot from seeing me climbing up there.”
“The plan was that once he was up there, I’d take you boys into the garden and we could wave at Santa.”
“But instead, Santa was clinging to the chimney and shouting for help!” Dale chuckled heartily.
“Yes, we’ve had some good times, haven’t we?” Glenda took her husband’s hand, her love for him etched on her face. “You two have plenty of these ahead too. You’re going to be so happy.”
A lump caught in Lucie’s throat. She had no doubt that Dale would make a good husband… for someone, anyway.
“Lucie? Do you have a good story?” Glenda placed her empty mug on the table.
Lucie paused. “I’ll tell you when we get back from New York. I have a feeling this is going to be a good one, and that Dale and I will have some tales to tell.” She reached out and slipped her hand into Dale’s, and was filled with warmth when he squeezed her fingers.
“It will be, Luce. I promise.”
The day of the school play arrived, and with it an unexpected flurry of snow. As a result, the school telephone lines and email inboxes were jammed from seven am. It was decided that the school should remain open, dependent upon how the morning panned out. Staff members were encouraged to maintain a sense of calm and order, as apparently the weather forecast for the rest of the day was ‘uncertain’: forecaster-speak for ‘there might be more snow but we don’t have a clue how much or where it’s going to fall.’
Lucie did her best to settle the pupils as they divested themselves of hats, scarves, gloves and wellington boots, but spirits were high and with Christmas just over a week away, not much was going to soothe the savage pack that is a group of year three children when Santa will soon be visiting.
By ten-thirty, the pupils had changed into costumes and were waiting to be called to the hall. Beyond the old-fashioned windows the day was dark, so all the internal lights were on. It gave the room a false golden glow, and the clear reflections in the windows made the classroom appear twice its actual size.
Lucie was fitting a cotton-wool beard onto one of the three kings when the head teacher entered the classroom. The children immediately stood up and Mrs McMahon waved at them distractedly to sit back down. She beckoned to Lucie and Mrs Hughes to follow her to the door, which they did carefully, both aware that this would have roused the suspicions of the pupils, had they not been otherwise occupied.
“Ladies, the forecast does not look good. Apparently a snowstorm is making its way down to us and will be here by early afternoon. We have enough time to get the play done, but then the children will have to go home.” She looked crestfallen, as if the weather had deliberately set out to destroy the end of term for her school. She had a tendency to take things like this personally, which Lucie found a bit ridiculous, but then everyone had their foibles. “I’m not sure if we’ll be back before Friday, so let’s do our utmost to ensure that this morning’s production runs smoothly. At least then we can send the children off for the holidays with a positive conclusion.”
“Of course,” Lucie agreed.
Mrs Hughes frowned. “But I need to think about my own children too. They’re in school and they’ll be sent home if it’s that bad. I’ve no one there for them.”
“I know that, Dawn, but I’ve checked and the secondary schools won’t be closing until after lunch so the free school meals children still get to eat. So you have until then.”
Dawn nodded but she still looked worried.
“I don’t need to rush off, so you go as soon as we’re done, Dawn, and I’ll stay and help tidy up.”
“Thank you, Lucie. That’s so kind of you. It’s just with Billy having had the flu recently, and my mother not being well enough to drive, I can’t risk him having to walk home. Christmas will be ruined if he gets sick too.”
Lucie understood Dawn’s maternal concerns, but the Christmas bit rankled her. People were so strange with their festive obsessions. No one could get ill or die at Christmas otherwise it would all be ruined! Well, Christmas had been ruined for her a long time ago and she’d survived. She shook herself. Stop being so miserable! Christmas is probably great when you have your own kids.
They put the finishing touches to costumes, rescued a sheep who’d managed to get herself locked in the toilet and had to be calmed down with a cup of hot chocolate, then guided the children down to the main hall, all the time shushing and gesturing at them to be quiet. It was like a game of whack-a-mole, though: as soon as one child was settled, another further along started giggling and Lucie had to bite her lip to stop herself grinning, which they would likely take as encouragement.
From outside the doors to the main hall, they heard Mrs McMahon addressing the parents, giving them the usual spiel about how she’d seen a lot of plays in her twenty-plus years of teaching, but this had to be one of the best yet. She said this every year, but it still made Lucie smile. It meant so much to the children, and she loved seeing their happy expressions when they were praised by their head teacher. In their youthful innocence, they fully believed everything she said.
Then the hall fell quiet.
The only sounds were the sniffs and coughs of the children behind her.
They were like coiled springs in a mattress, lined up in pairs, ready to burst into the hall to sing and dance and repeat their lines. To celebrate life, love and the excitement of knowing that Christmas was just around the corner.
A note rang out from inside the hall.
Then another.
And another.
The hall doors opened with a creak and the children crept in.
Silent night… Holy night… All is calm…
For all that Lucie hated Christmas, hearing this song from the mouths of innocents made goosebumps rise on her arms and the tiny hairs on her neck stand on end.
She followed the children in and supervised as they took their places on the benches in front of the stage. As they sang the rest of the ancient hymn, one she’d sung herself as a child and one her mother had loved, she had to swallow hard against the emotion lodged in her throat.
The play went well. It was, Lucie admitted to herself, the best one yet. The school had decided to go with a traditional nativity this year, but elements of other religions were incorporated to reflect the multi-cultural catchment area. As always, there were wonderful moments, where the talented actors played their parts well, as well as a few hiccups, as could only be expected when so many young children were trying to remember both their lines and where to be and when. Mary – Chetana Singh – stole the show in her beautiful blue and gold sari. She was cool, calm and collected, even when Liam Waters, playing Joseph, dropped the baby Jesus. The baby happened to be one of those real life dolls that actually had a small penis – as was revealed when Joseph went to pick the doll up and only grabbed the corner of the swaddling. This caused the audience to gasp, which was followed by a ripple of laughter, making Joseph turn away in embarrassment.
Lucie sat facing the children, close enough to prompt them if they forgot their lines and to offer reassuring smiles to the nervous ones. Or, in the case of Charlie Samuels, to frown and wag a finger when he kept trying to knock the crown off one of the three kings sitting in front of him. She feigned ignorance at the usual nose-picking and waving from the infant children, and tried not to giggle at the response from the audience when the little donkey turned out to be a labrador. His mother hadn’t been able to find a donkey costume, so had opted for what she thought most closely resembled one.
Lucie had to suppress a smile at one point when little Jacob’s waving became particularly fervent. A woman had come into the hall late, creeping along the side of the audience until she found a seat. Jacob’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face. Lucie turned to see what had caused his excitement and there, with his mother in the second row, was an older woman who Lucie guessed must be his nan. Perhaps she’d declined the invitation from her grandson at first but then changed her mind. Lucie was glad for Jacob; it would mean so much to him.
As she turned back to the stage, the scents, the songs, the atmosphere and the sense of magic in the air conjured a vivid memory of her own days as a pupil at St. Mary’s. She pictured her mother sat there in the crowd, her pretty face etched with pride as she smiled and waved at Lucie. And Lucie had been proud too; proud of her attractive mother, of the woman who tucked her in at night and read her stories, who sang and danced with her to ABBA songs, who brushed and plaited her hair better than anyone else could have done. Her mother had loved Christmas. And back then, Lucie had loved it too. The emotion was so positive, so vibrant and so joyous, that she held it close and vowed to return to it later.
As the children sang their final song, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Lucie turned to the windows high up in the hall walls. Snow was falling heavily now. In the corner of the hall, the large tree twinkled with lights. She could smell pine and people and sweaty feet – some of the pupils had removed their shoes to get into character – and the buzz of anticipation was palpable.
She thought of Dale’s face when she’d told him she loved the tree he’d bought for her, and of the hotel they’d be staying in that overlooked Central Park, and how excited Dale had been about that fact.
Something inside her shifted.
Just a fraction.
She had to take a deep breath.
And it was okay.
Christmas was coming, and for the first time in a long time, Lucie Quigley wasn’t completely filled with dread.
Snow fell for the next two days and school was cancelled. Then, as often happens with British weather, it stopped snowing and the pure white flakes turned to grey mush in the gutters and on pavements. From a winter wonderland, Tonbridge became a wet, sludgy mess.
Lucie and Dale were heading to see his parents before they left for New York, in order to deliver gifts and cards. With everything that had been going on, Lucie hadn’t seen Glenda and Hank since they’d been to the Christmas market, and she was rather anxious. Lucie knew that maintaining her fake relationship with Dale in front of them would be increasingly difficult, especially without the distractions that the market stalls had offered.
“Stop worrying now,” Dale said as they pulled up in front of his parents’ house. “Just act natural.”
“‘Act natural?’ How do I do that while creating a convincing charade? ‘Natural’ means us just being friends, Dale.”
He turned in his seat to her and took her hand. “Lucie, it’s only for an hour or so. Just make sure that when you look at me, you smile and imagine I’m someone you fancy.”
“Someone I fancy?”
“Yes, you know… like Chris Hemsworth, Ryan Gosling, whoever.” He grinned.
“And who will you be imagining when you look at me?”
His expression changed, the laughter left his eyes and something more serious settled there.
“Dale?”
“Come on, let’s get inside.” He opened his door and got out.
“Dale! Tell me now. I want to know who you’ll be picturing. At least tell me that.” She gave a small laugh but for some reason her stomach had knotted.
Dale leaned back into the van and held Lucie’s gaze. “That’s for me to know. Now come on, or my mother’ll wear a hole in the carpet by the window, wondering what we’re doing out here.”
He slammed the door and Lucie was left alone in the silent van, watching as he walked around the front and came to open her door. As she slipped out of her seat and turned around the lift the gift bag out of the footwell, she released a deep breath. She didn’t know why whoever Dale might be thinking of should matter to her. But it did. Because she knew she wouldn’t be picturing Chris or Ryan – or any other celebrity, for that matter. She wouldn’t need to, when she had Dale by her side.
“Hello, Lucie!” Glenda enveloped her in a hug.
“Hi, Glenda. How have you been?”
“Busy with Christmas preparations, you know. But we’ve missed you!” Glenda released Lucie and met her eyes. “How was the end of term?”
“Well, the last two days were called off because of the snow, but the play on Wednesday was fabulous. The children did such a good job, and it was so much fun.”
“I used to love the Christmas plays. Such emotional times, watching my boys in their little costumes, fidgeting and waving when they spotted me. I do miss those times.”
“Did you go to see your grandchildren’s plays?”
Glenda shook her head. “The tickets were limited, so Helen’s mother went. My turn next year, apparently.” She paused and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I need some more grandchildren now, so I have more school events to attend.” She smiled to show she was teasing, but Lucie had to avert her eyes.
“Now, now, Glenda! One step at a time, eh? Lucie and Dale need some time as a couple before they add to the Treharne family. Isn’t that right, son?” Hank patted Dale on the back and was rewarded with a grateful smile from his son.
“Yes, Dad. We certainly do need some time. It’s way too soon for babies and all that, Mum.” Dale slid an arm around Lucie’s shoulders and she leant against him, grateful for the support.
“But you’ll make such beautiful children when you do.” Glenda clapped her hands together and stared at her son and Lucie. “Beautiful, with your combined genes. Right, ignore me! I’m just a sentimental old fool. I’ll make some tea.” She left the hall, and Hank followed her.
“This is really difficult,” she whispered.
“I know. I’m sorry. She’s just over the moon about us.”
“But baby talk? Already?”
“I’m really sorry. I can’t help how she is. I know she’s a bit overbearing at times but it’s only because she cares about you, Luce. She cares about you a lot.”
“I know.” And it was true, she thought, as she hung her coat on the banister then followed Dale into the kitchen. It almost made her wish that she and Dale actually were an item. Because then she would be feeling happy and hopeful, rather than cruel and deceitful. If she really was Dale’s girlfriend, all this would be so nice, even being teased about having children and becoming a proper part of Dale’s family. They were a warm and friendly bunch and had always made Lucie feel so welcome.
In the kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked cakes greeted her and she licked her lips. Glenda had always enjoyed baking, and her husband, sons and visitors all appreciated her offerings in the kitchen. Lucie was no exception.
“Lucie, I’ve made mince pies but I know you hate them, so I baked some gingerbread especially for you.”
“Wow! Thank you.” Lucie eyed the delights cooling on a wire rack. The aromas of ginger and cinnamon permeated the air and made her mouth water.
They sat around the kitchen island. Glenda placed a pot of tea in the middle, then four small bone china plates with festive red and green napkins. As Hank poured the tea, they helped themselves to mince pies and biscuits and Lucie munched away, listening to Dale telling his parents about the garden he was planning for his renovation. It sounded incredibly complicated to Lucie, as he discussed the wood he would use for the decking and which shrubs he’d be planting to create wind-screening and privacy. He even had an area of the garden reserved for herbs, which made Glenda clap her hands, as she knew she’d have access to them too.
Lucie finished her gingerbread and dusted off her hands with her napkin. The kitchen was warm and homely. The radio was on low in the corner and a choir sang carols, their pure voices ringing out, the echoes created by the cathedral’s high ceilings creating a haunting clarity. Goosebumps rose on Lucie’s arms.
Outside, drizzle was falling, drifting sideways and melting what remained of the snow. The Treharnes’ back garden was neat and tidy, a rectangular lawn surrounded by pruned rosebushes and hardy shrubs. At the far end of the garden stood a row of emerald green thujas, planted by Dale to provide privacy from the house behind his parents’. The garden was as familiar to Lucie as the back of her hand, because she’d spent hours and hours out there with Dale and his family. Parties, barbecues, sunbathing, snowball fights; they had all happened out there. It was even where Lucie and Dale had shared their first kiss, when she was eighteen and he was just twenty. The kiss that had led to something more. She could picture it clearly now, although it was a memory she often suppressed.
They’d been to a concert in Hyde Park with friends, out in the sunshine and the balmy breeze all day long. Their noses were sunburnt and they were hot and exhausted after a day filled with excitement. They’d drunk too much cider, danced like fools and enjoyed just being young and alive.
Dale’s parents had been away on holiday in Italy. Lucie hadn’t wanted the day to end, so Dale had suggested she come home with him for some more cider and music. The friends they’d been with had left them at the station, but Lucie and Dale hadn’t minded. They’d been high on life, and were still singing the songs they’d enjoyed that day.
Outside, as they’d opened cans of Strongbow and lain on the grass, staring up the orange and plum streaked sky, something had changed between them. The years of friendship had fallen away, and as their eyes had met they’d kissed; furiously, excitedly, drunkenly. But passionately. Their discovery of each other hadn’t been hindered by awkwardness or fear of parental interruption. Dale’s younger brother Thomas had been away with friends, his older brother Ieuan long ago moved out.
When Lucie had suggested that they go inside and continue what they’d started, Dale hadn’t paused for a moment. But he’d then asked her if she was ‘sure’ about thirty times before they’d made it to his bedroom, so Lucie had given up telling him she was, and resorted to kissing him instead.
“Lucie?”
She blinked hard, warmth flooding her cheeks as she realized where her thoughts had strayed.
“Oh… uh, yes?”
“I just asked if you’d like to open your presents now, or wait until after Christmas.”
Lucie met Glenda’s curious eyes and nodded. “Whatever Dale wants is fine with me.”
She tried to force the images of what had happened over the next two weeks from her mind. They’d been hungry for each other, their appetite for what they’d started insatiable. Unfettered by responsibility or concerns about the future and crazy with young lust, they had devoured each other, only parting when Dale had to go to work at the garden centre.
“I say we wait until we’re back from New York, then we can have a second Christmas. What do you think, Mum?”
“That would be wonderful, Dale! Shall I get another turkey in?”
Hank groaned. “Now you’ve given your mother an excuse to cook another Christmas dinner with all the trimmings.”
Glenda laughed. “Hank, don’t pretend you’re not thrilled.”
“Well, my love, the thought of eating two of your amazing dinners is certainly something to look forward to. It’s just that I’m getting so fat.”
“Nonsense, darling. You’re as fit and handsome as the day we met.” Glenda got up and took the plates to the sink. “I’ll have to write another list now. This is so exciting. Two Christmas days. You know, when you told me you were going to be away, I was a bit upset about it, although I’d never have let on. But you made it better by sharing your fabulous news… and now you’ve made it all even better by giving me the chance to celebrate twice.”
Dale caught Lucie’s eye and winked. She smiled but inside everything had turned jittery. They’d agreed to end their relationship after Christmas, to pretend that it hadn’t worked out, but now they would have to maintain the façade for a bit longer as Lucie sat amongst Dale’s family and opened the gifts they’d chosen for her, then ate the food that Glenda had prepared with love in her heart and a smile on her face.
“Lucie.” Dale reached over the island and patted her hand. “You okay? You seemed far away for a while there.”
“I’m fine. Just overwhelmed by memories. Must be the time of year.”
“Probably is.” He nodded. “Let’s put their presents under the tree.”
Lucie went out into the hallway and picked up the large gift bag she’d brought with her. She’d ordered the presents online after her last visit to the Treharne house. She’d suspected she probably wouldn’t get much time to go shopping, and she’d been right.
In the lounge, Dale was on his knees arranging his gifts under the six-foot synthetic spruce that Glenda had bought to replace the old tree she’d had for about ten years.
“Like the real tree scent, Luce?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“That’s what the smell is?”
“It came with a spray that makes the tree smell like a real one.”
“I’m not convinced. It’s a bit like…” She bit her lip as Hank entered the room.
“Toilet cleaner?” He laughed. “I’ve been telling her that for a week. I said it smelled like something you’d pour down the lavatory, but she won’t have it and she keeps spritzing more on.”
Dale stood up. “I’ve placed all your pressies under there.”
“I’ve got more here,” Lucie said as she held out the bag.
“You two should’ve pooled together this year,” Hank said. “You’re a couple now. Save money by just buying one gift between you. Absolute madness otherwise.” He stared at them and Lucie had to turn to the tree to hide her rising blush. Did he see through them? Had he guessed that they were acting? But why would he?
“Let me help,” Dale said as he took the gifts from Lucie then tucked them under the tree with the ones he’d bought. Lucie kept her back to Hank, pretending to be focused on what Dale was doing to avoid having to make eye contact with the man she’d grown up knowing. She hadn’t been as close to Hank as to Glenda, but he’d still been there throughout her teenage years, giving her and Dale lifts, handing them cash when he knew they’d already spent their pocket money and telling Lucie to take care when she went off to university. Granted, she had her own father, but Hank had been there too, and she’d known she could ask him for anything.
When all the gifts were under the tree and they’d enjoyed another mug of tea, Dale looked at his watch. “I guess we’d better be going, then.”
“You can stay for lunch if you like.” Glenda gestured at the fridge. “I’ve got an enormous ham in there. I can easily make some sandwiches.”
“Thanks, Mum, but I know you’ve got visiting of your own to do.”
“Yes, Glenda. There’s no getting out of visiting my cousin and his lovely wife.” Hank shook his head.
“Are you going to see Ted and Alice?” Lucie asked, recalling Hank’s cousins from Birmingham.
“We are indeed. And staying overnight, too.” Hank winked at Lucie.
“Family, eh?” Glenda sighed. “We have to take the rough with the smooth.”
Hank laughed. “That’s no way to speak about my side of the family. Ted can’t help being a bit rough around the edges. He means well.”
“It’s the jokes, though.” Glenda shuddered. “The terribly obscene jokes.”
“They are a bit rude, but we should be used to them by now.”
“How Alice has put up with them all these years, I’ll never know.” Glenda tutted then led the way into the hall. “Oh! Would you look at that.” She pointed above Lucie and Dale’s heads.
They both looked up.
And Lucie sighed inwardly.
“Oh! Mistletoe. How nice!” Dale exposed his neat white teeth in an exaggerated grin.
“Now you have to kiss,” Glenda said.
“It’s true,” Hank added. “’Tis the rule of Christmas.”
“I’m not sure that’s true, Dad.”
“It is, son. If you don’t kiss under the mistletoe, it’s bad luck.”
Lucie looked at Glenda and Hank then at Dale. They really weren’t being given much choice here. If they declined, it would seem strange.
Dale obviously realized it too.
“Come here then, Quigley.”
He held out his arms and she walked into them. His hands were warm on her shoulders and as he moved them up to her cheeks, her heart began to pound. She couldn’t believe he was going to do this; to kiss her, right in front of his parents.
He held her gaze for a moment then leaned towards her.
His scent washed over her; citrus, ginger, warm delicious male. It roused a hundred butterflies in her stomach.
She closed her eyes.
And melted as his warm lips met hers in the softest of kisses.
The hallway spun as she breathed him in.
Then…
It was over as quickly as it had begun, and as Dale released her, she stumbled backwards and landed on her bottom on the stairs.
“Luce! Sorry!” Dale took her hands and helped her up.
“Dale! You dropped her,” Glenda scolded.
“No I didn’t. She stumbled.” Dale pulled Lucie to his side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Well, just you mind you look after her in New York.” Glenda kissed her son on the cheek then did the same to Lucie.
“Yes, take care, kids. It’s a big old city and you need to keep yourselves safe.”
“Dad, we’re both grown ups now, you know.” Dale rolled his eyes.
“You’ll always be my little boy.” Glenda patted his cheek and Lucie smiled. The fact that her six foot tall, thirty-four year old friend would always be Glenda’s little boy was just too amusing.
“And you’ll always be our little Lucie,” Glenda added, bringing a lump to Lucie’s throat. “So take care and keep in touch. I want to know where you go, what you do and what it’s like. Enjoy the wedding and, of course, have fun!”
Dale led Lucie to the door and they stepped out into the cold drizzle.
“See you soon.” Dale nodded at his parents then walked to the van. Lucie was conscious of the fact that he still had his heavy arm draped around her.
“Bye, darlings!” Glenda called to them.
Lucie turned back to wave, and as Glenda closed the door, Lucie was certain she’d had tears in her eyes.
“That went well,” Dale said.
“Yes.”
Dale opened the door for her then went around to the driver’s side, and as Lucie climbed into her seat, she pressed her fingers over her mouth where Dale’s kiss still tingled.
“Yes, it did,” she whispered to herself.
“How are you feeling?” Lucie asked as she took a seat on a big squishy red sofa in the Coombes’ lounge.
“Oh, I’m okay. A bit tired, I guess.” Phil yawned loudly.
“Not you! Arianwen,” Lucie said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe the baby came early.”
“Only six days early, so not too bad. It can go two weeks either way.” Arianwen adjusted her position on the sofa and grimaced.
“Good timing, I think,” Dale said as he sat next to Lucie. “At least we get to meet baby number three before we head off to Manhattan.”
“What I wouldn’t give to fly away for a week of glamour.” Phil rubbed his eyes. “Instead, I’m in for another two years of sleepless nights and early starts.”
Arianwen frowned. “At least you don’t feel like your groin is on fire. I tell you… every single time I move, it stings.”
“That sounds awful!” Lucie winced in sympathy. “Do you need anything from the pharmacy?”
“It’s okay.” Arianwen shook her head. “I’ve got these special salts to put in the bath water, and as long as I pour a jug of water over myself when I pee, it doesn’t burn too badly.”
Lucie glanced at Dale and was shocked at how pale he’d gone. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Just all this talk of pain. Not my cup of tea.”
She squeezed his arm. “Be strong.”
“She needs to drink lots of water and to rest.” Phil got up and went to the door. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
“So was the labour tough, then?” Lucie asked. “You said something last time we saw you… that it would be easy the third time around?”
“Not this one. He’s huge!” Arianwen gestured at the crib in the corner of the room. “I didn’t even get a chance to fill the birthing pool. He came right out after twenty minutes of contractions, but in his hurry one arm was above his head.”
“Like Superman?”
“Yes, Dale, if that helps. It didn’t help me though… if you know what I mean.”
Phil entered the room carrying what looked like a rubber ring. He handed it to his wife and she lifted herself a bit then slipped the ring underneath her.
“Oh, that’s better.”
“But the baby’s all right?” Lucie asked.
“Yes. Strong as an ox.”
“Takes after me.” Phil grinned as he peered into the crib. “You want to hold him?”
“Wha… me?” Lucie glanced at Dale.
“Yes, you.” Phil lifted a bundle from the crib then brought it over to Lucie. She stared at him, her stomach tightening.
“I’m not that good with tiny babies.”
“Well then, you’ll be fine with Sid. He’s not tiny.” Phil placed the bundle in her arms and Lucie gazed down into a scrunched up red face. She looked up again, intending to ask Phil to take the baby back but he’d gone. She couldn’t ask Arianwen to get up and take the baby when she’d just got settled, so instead, she had to sit tight.
Dale asked after the other two boys and Arianwen said Phil’s mother had taken them out for lunch, to give them a few hours alone with the baby. It was crucial that their other sons feel as important as ever, and this was one way of doing that. Hopefully, when they returned, their parents would be able to give them some quality time while Phil’s mother helped out with baby Sid.
“Dammit! Now I need the loo again. Won’t be long.” Arianwen got up and waddled out of the room, leaving Dale and Lucie literally holding the baby.
Lucie gently pushed open the blanket around the baby to have a better look at him. His face moved in sleep, his ruby mouth pursing and his downy eyebrows moving up and down. He had a full head of black hair and tiny, dark pink ears that were flat against his head. As Lucie ran a finger over his hand, he grabbed hold of it instinctively and she gasped.
“He seems to like you.” Dale spoke softly. He’d moved closer to Lucie and was leaning into her to get a closer look at the baby.
“He’s asleep.”
“Yes, but look how tightly he’s holding you, Luce.”
“In his sleep.”
“So you want one now?”
“What?”
“Does it make you broody?”
Lucie gazed at the small person in her arms. He fit there perfectly. She lowered her head and inhaled. He smelt warm and clean, and like something she didn’t recognize; a scent that must be inherent to babies. Was this what she wanted? Did she yearn to be a mother? To create her own tiny being; to bring a life into the world for which she would be responsible.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Well… he’s cute and everything, and he smells quite good, but I’ve never really had that deep maternal craving that I hear other women talking about. Maybe one day, if things are right, if the situation is right, then I’ll feel differently.”
“I can understand that.”
“What about you?”
He smiled. “I don’t think men get that whole craving for a baby thing, do they?”
“Really?”
“Well… it’s different, isn’t it?”
“I bet some men do. There must be men who want to be fathers, like really want to. Look at Phil.”
“I guess so. But personally, I’ve never had an overwhelming desire. I mean… if it happens one day, then I guess I’ll be happy. If it doesn’t, I’m not sure that I’ll feel like I’ve missed out.”
They sat there staring at the baby in silence.
“Is there something wrong with us, Dale?”
“How so?”
“Well we’re both thirty-something, both single and we spend all our time together. Does that make us odd?”
“Hey, Luce. What’s brought all this on?” He was so close to her that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek as he spoke.
“Oh, I don’t know. Just with my childhood being so… irregular, I wonder if it’s ruined me. If I can’t have a normal life.”
“What’s normal to one person is not normal to another. We’re all different. Not everyone needs to be a wife or husband, a mother or a father.”
“Glenda will be disappointed.”
“In me or in us?” He shrugged. “She has two perfectly nice grandsons. She doesn’t need more.”
“I don’t think she sees it that way.”
“Well, I think that whatever’s going to be will be. My mother will be fine whether she has more grandchildren or not. And anyway, this isn’t about her, it’s about you and me and what we want from life. You can’t do things just to make other people happy, you know. If you did, then you’d make yourself unhappy in the process.”
Lucie nodded.
“I think he’s waking up!” She froze as the baby started to wriggle in her arms. “Dale, help!”
He moved in front of her and deftly took the baby from her arms. He lifted Sid as if the baby were made of feathers, then rocked him in one arm as naturally as if he’d fathered twenty children and brought them all up singlehandedly.
“How do you know how to do that?” Lucie asked.
“I have two nephews, remember.”
“Where have Phil and Arianwen got to?” Lucie asked as she stood. “I thought we were having tea.”
“Go take a look. I’ll watch this one.”
Lucie went out into the kitchen and sighed as she saw the chaos. In front of the log burner was an empty birthing pool, a hosepipe hanging over the edge and stretching towards the taps. Dirty dishes were piled up next to the sink, and a heap of washing lay on the floor in front of the machine, while inside was a load that had clearly finished its cycle but been forgotten. “So this is what happens when you have a baby.” She rolled up her sleeves. “Time to help out.”
Forty minutes later, she’d filled the dishwasher and put it on a hot cycle, folded up the birthing pool and tuck it behind the bench in the corner near the window, emptied the washing machine and sorted through the clothes so that some now aired on downstairs radiators, while others tumbled around in the drier next to the washing machine. As she was putting another load of bibs and babygrows on to boil, she heard footsteps.
“Oh, Lucie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Phil traipsed into the kitchen, his eyes red and puffy, his face pale. “Ari went upstairs to use the loo and I went up to check on her. You know… she’s a bit under the weather… and she’d already gone and sat on the bed. I sat next to her for a moment and before I knew it, I was waking up. I’ve left her there, sleeping. She’s out cold.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Wow! You shouldn’t have done this, but thank you. It looks amazing.”
“Don’t be daft, Phil. It was no trouble at all. You’ve had a new arrival and you have enough to do.”
“My mother tried to tackle it when she got here this morning, but I wouldn’t let her. I told her I’d sort it when she took the boys out, but then Ari needed a bath and I had to help her while watching Sid. Then you came and…” He smiled. “Sorry. I’m just sleep deprived. No one ever tells you how badly the loss of sleep will affect you. But it’s like torture. You can’t think straight, you get emotional over ridiculous things like TV adverts and you walk around with your head full of cotton wool. I’ve been through it twice already and should have been more prepared this time, but even so… I did forget exactly how tough it is in the first few days.”
“It’s fine. Why don’t you go back to bed and we’ll watch Sid for an hour.”
Phil’s face lit up at the suggestion, then it fell again. “Ari’s feeding him herself and he’ll be due a feed soon. Uh… where is he?”
“Dale has him.”
“Dale?” Phil’s eyebrows lifted.
“He’s a natural. Who knew, eh?”
They went through to the lounge and found Dale in the rocking chair by the fireplace, moving his feet from toe to heel in a regular movement. Safely tucked in his arms was the baby, fast asleep.
“Looks like you’ve got everything under control. I might just grab a nap then. If that’s okay?” Phil asked Lucie.
She waved him away. “Go on. I’ll wake you when the baby wakes.”
“Again… thank you.” Phil smiled then disappeared into the hallway.
“Looks like you’ve got that covered,” Lucie whispered.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Cleaning up. The kitchen was in a bit of a mess so I did what I could.”
“This little one hasn’t stirred.”
“He must feel safe in your arms.”
Dale smiled as he gazed at the baby. “I guess I have that effect on some people.”
“I guess you do.” Lucie watched him as he moved back and forth, the slow steady rhythm making her start to relax. “I’ll make us a cup of tea, shall I?”
Lucie returned to the kitchen and clicked the switch on the kettle then leaned against the unit as she waited for it to boil.
She would never to cease to be surprised by her best friend. Just when she thought she knew him, he pulled out something she didn’t know he could do. In the past, it had included cooking up a delicious lasagne, singing like Sinatra at karaoke, buying her the perfect pair of boots for her birthday, and just yesterday, he’d kissed her under the mistletoe in a way that had made her toes curl with desire. Now he was showing off how great he was with kids.
Dale Treharne was everything a woman could ask for.
The perfect man.
A sudden wave of fear washed over her.
What if he turned out to be another woman’s perfect man?
She had no idea how she would deal with that. None at all.