A Merry Little Christmas (17 page)

‘Now
that
is a great idea,’ said Marianne, ‘housework can wait.’

Cat was sitting at home going through the final proofs of her Christmas book, wincing at little errors which it was now too late to put right, when the phone rang. It was Susan Challoner, the matron from her mum’s nursing home.

‘I’m terribly sorry to trouble you,’ she said, ‘but your mother has had a little fall. I don’t want to worry you but she’s on her way to A&E.’

Cat’s heart plummeted.

‘How? Why? What happened?’ she said.

‘We’re not sure,’ Susan admitted. ‘One of the staff found her on the floor. It’s possible she had a TIA.’

‘Sorry, what does that mean?’ Cat felt she should know, but somehow she didn’t.

‘It may be that she’s had a slight stroke,’ Susan said. ‘It’s very common in her age group.’

Cat went into a tailspin. Things had been stable with Mum for such a long time, she’d almost started to kid herself that the situation wouldn’t deteriorate further. But now it had. She checked her watch. Only midday. She rang Noel, who wasn’t picking up his voicemail, to ask if he could get Ruby from school. The others made their way home on the bus. She’d text them later when she knew more. There was no point worrying them unnecessarily, particularly Paige, who had a tendency for melodrama.

Twenty minutes later, Cat found herself in the smart new A&E at her local hospital. She queued patiently at reception, while the ward clerks booked in patients with broken toes, arms, and mysterious gut pains. It seemed to take forever before she was seen to.

‘Hello, may I help?’ The receptionist barely looked at her.

‘It’s my mother,’ said Cat, her voice coming out in a high-pitched squeak, ‘I think she’s been admitted.’

‘And her name?’

‘Louise Carpenter,’ said Cat.

‘Ah, yes,’ said the woman, ‘just go through that door on the left, and they’ll tell you where she is.’

Cat wandered through into the main area of A&E. Contrary to expectations fuelled by years of watching
ER
and
Casualty
, the staff all seemed unhurried and calm, and if anything, almost bored. She thought about the last time she’d been here, admitted as a patient, terrified and in pain. She shuddered at the memory. But this wasn’t about her. She needed to find out how Mum was.

Cat approached the desk, as always in these places, feeling intimidated and out of her depth. Something about medical officialdom did that to her, which was quite ridiculous when you thought about it. They were only people after all. Eventually a nurse looked up from behind a big shiny new desk and pointed her in the direction of bed seven. The curtains were drawn around the bed, and Cat gingerly popped her head in.

Louise was sitting up in bed with a big bruise on her forehead, looking pale and bewildered, while a doctor with an east European accent was shouting, as if to a simpleton, ‘Mrs Carpenter, can you tell me what happened?’

‘I doubt that very much,’ said Cat, ‘didn’t anyone tell you she has Alzheimer’s? She probably doesn’t understand what you are saying.’

‘Ah, no,’ said the doctor, looking somewhat relieved, ‘and you are?’

‘Her daughter,’ said Cat, going over to Louise and holding her hand. ‘It’s okay, Mum, it’s me, Cat.’

‘Cat?’ Louise looked bewildered. ‘Where am I? What happened?’

‘It’s okay, Mum, you’ve had a little fall,’ said Cat. She tied up the hospital gown that someone had carelessly thrown over her mother’s shoulders, to give Louise some more dignity, and went through Mum’s medical history with the doctor before they were left alone, for what seemed like forever.

Eventually a young nurse came over to check Louise’s blood pressure and temperature. She thoughtfully organised a bed pan for Louise, which impressed Cat, as her previous requests for one had fallen on deaf ears. The nurse was kind and efficient and seemed instinctively to understand how to handle Louise. Cat could have hugged her.

‘My granny had Alzheimer’s,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘It’s a rotten disease isn’t it?’

‘Yup,’ said Cat, ‘it certainly is.’

For the next two hours, Cat sat holding Louise’s hand as she rambled in and out of consciousness, and intermittently remembered she was in pain. Staff meandered about the place, patients were admitted, sat around and were either discharged or moved on to a ward, but to Cat it felt for all the world like they’d been forgotten. She only popped out briefly to update Noel and speak to the children, who luckily hadn’t picked up on the potential seriousness of the situation. Mel, for once in a helpful mood, had offered to make tea.

As the afternoon wore on the place was filling up, and the evening shift took over. Eventually Cat went over to the desk and said, ‘Excuse me, do you know what’s happening with Louise Carpenter? Only the doctor said he was going to come back with some results?’

‘Louise Carpenter?’ The nurse looked blank, and then at her notes. ‘Oh, she’s still here?’ Then accusingly at Cat, ‘We’re going to need that bed soon.’

Great, as if she wanted her mum to be stuck on a trolley in casualty.

‘I’ll get the doctor to look at her straight away.’

‘Straight away’ proved to be another half an hour. A different doctor arrived, who also seemed incapable of communicating any information clearly, and who pro-
claimed that though Louise probably hadn’t done much damage, it would be advisable to keep her overnight to assess her condition.

Another hour elapsed before a bed was available, during which time Cat again updated Noel. ‘I think I’m going to be stuck here forever,’ she said, but eventually a jolly porter appeared out of nowhere. ‘Come on darlin’,’ he said to Louise, ‘let’s get you upstairs and comfortable.’ His cheery manner put Louise at her ease, and she was even laughing as he pushed her up to the ward, with Cat following behind, clutching a plastic bag full of Louise’s paltry belongings.

When she got up there, Cat felt overwhelmed with confusion as there was a general air of chaos and Louise was left waiting for ages to be put to bed properly. It was difficult to know who to ask for help, because every time she flagged down a passing nurse, she was told, ‘Sorry, not my patient.’ Quite which nurses
were
allocated to Louise was a mystery. By the time Noel came to join her, having fed the children and left Mel babysitting, Cat felt at the end of her tether. Mum was so frail and weak, and needed kindness and compassion, which seemed demonstrably lacking. When a nurse eventually arrived, she barely spoke to Louise, and made no concession to her illness, getting her into bed with a rough efficiency. At least she was settled, so Cat felt she and Noel could leave. As they walked back to the car, Cat’s heart felt heavy. ‘I don’t know, Noel,’ she said. ‘We don’t have any choice, but I’d rather leave her anywhere but here.’

Noel squeezed her hand, and said, ‘It’s all right, Cat. It’s only a night. She’ll be fine.’

But as Cat turned back to look up at the brightly lit ward where her mother lay – she hoped not
too
frightened and confused – she wasn’t at all sure that Noel was right.

‘Do you think you’ll be able to run the village nativity this year? Only I can see you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I have so many ideas.’ Marianne’s heart sank as Diana Carew’s huge breasts hove into view.

‘Er, it’s a bit early to think of it yet don’t you think?’ said Marianne. ‘And I’m helping out with the charity ball already, so …’

‘It’s never too early to start planning,’ boomed Diana, ‘fail to plan and plan to fail. It was raised at the last Parish Council meeting.’ Diana was on nearly every committee in town. She’d probably raised the matter herself.

‘Well to be honest, I haven’t given it much thought yet,’ said Marianne, thinking no one in Hope Christmas would ever forgive her if she gave the planning of the nativity back over to Diana. ‘But Mrs Garratt has been suggesting Ali Strickland takes over.’

Marianne had loved organising the nativity since she’d been in Hope Christmas, but the last two years juggling it with the twins had been challenging, to say the least. By this Christmas the twins would be into all sorts of mischief. And quite frankly Marianne didn’t have the energy. Yet the thought of Ali Strickland doing it instead of her filled her with dread. She’d suggest that Diana took it over again, but had a feeling no one in the village would forgive her if she did. Diana’s tediously long nativities had been the bane of Hope Christmas till Marianne had arrived. She was likely to lose all the friends she’d made since she got here, if she handed the reins back to Diana.

‘Well don’t leave it too late,’ boomed Diana. ‘We’ve got to make sure things get done, otherwise where would we be?’

‘Where indeed?’ said Marianne with a grin.

She pushed the twins up the High Street, revelling in the warm spring sunshine. On days like this, she’d never choose to live anywhere else. The birds in the hedgerows, the sun in the sky, the sheep baaing on the hillsides, the sound of the babbling brook. She loved the town, with its pretty little shops, the antique market, the butcher’s where Gabriel sold his sheep, the friendly baker’s which sold the best bread in the world. Above all she loved the bookshop with its knowledgeable staff and huge display of interesting books – so much more personable and friendly than the chain store bookshop at home in London. Hope Christmas felt like and was her natural home. She’d felt it the moment she came here four years ago. So why was she now feeling so discontented? It was something to do with a feeling of having lost her way a bit. She didn’t quite know whether she was supposed to be a mum, a teacher or a farmer’s wife. And at the moment the farmer’s wife bit was the least enjoyable of her occupations. It would help if she occasionally saw her farmer.

She heard the roar of a motorbike and heard someone say, ‘You shouldn’t be so hard on him you know.’ There, resplendent in leather, sat Michael Nicholas. Her heart gave a sudden little flip – she couldn’t help but be reminded of Michael’s cousin, Luke, who was the reason she’d come to Hope Christmas in the first place. Stop it, she said to herself, you’re a married woman.

‘Sorry?’

‘Gabe,’ said Michael. ‘He’s got a lot to deal with.’

‘I know,’ said Marianne, thinking, Well this is a bizarre conversation, how can he possibly know all this? ‘I just feel like he’s forgotten me.’

‘Then you need to remind him you’re here,’ said Michael.

‘And how do I do that?’ said Marianne, feeling faintly absurd.

‘That, my dear, is up to you,’ said Michael, the twinkle of his deep blue eyes reminding her of his uncle, Ralph. Then, putting his helmet on, and revving the motor on the engine, he roared off into the distance, leaving Marianne slightly open mouthed.

FACEBOOK status Fuck, fuck fuck.

Kaz
:
wassup?

Jen17:
You ok babes?

Ellie:
What?

Kaz:
Mel???

Kyra16:
Tell me!!!

Kaz:
Mel?

Mel:
Kaz?

Kaz:
You can’t just leave it like that. BBM ME NOW

Jen17:
Everything ok?

Mel:
Fine. Panicking for no reason.

Jen17
:
You sure?

Mel:
Yeah. All good.

Teenage Kicks

Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m late. I’m never late. I
can’t
be pregnant. We’ve only done it twice. And I haven’t seen him this week because of my exams.

Best Mate says I should get a test. But oh God. How do I do that? I can’t buy it here. Someone will see me.

While The Parents went to the hospital to see Mad Gran, Best Mate and I went out to Boots. I felt so stupid. I’m only a day late. Maybe I’m overreacting.

I was too worried to bring the test home with me. So we went into a café and sat till they started looking at us like we should get out. In the end Best Mate had to practically shove me into the loo. Then I did the peeing on the stick thing. Gross.

But, guess what? I’m not pregnant. False alarm. There was just one blue line. I’m so relieved. We must be more careful in future. I’ll make The Boy wear a condom next
time.

Marianne had bathed the twins early, so they were ready for bed, clean and cosy in their babygros, smelling of lemons and baby, a smell she loved with a passion. Steven had gone to a friend’s for a sleepover, because it was half term, and Marianne had decided it was time to take matters into her own hands and give Gabe a lovely relaxing evening.

It was a gorgeous summer evening, so Marianne laced some fairy lights around the patio outside the conservatory door. The geraniums, petunias and fuchsias in the pots she’d recently planted, brightened the whole place up, and the scent of wisteria was heavy in the air. In the hedgerow a mother bird was calling to her babies. No doubt they’d soon be trying to fly.

Marianne laid out their little wrought iron table, with a vase of flowers gathered from the garden and a candle smelling of sandalwood, which she’d purchased from the village shop. There was a lady who lived up the road in Hope Sadler who sold both homemade candles and soaps, and Marianne was always buying her produce.

She opened a bottle of wine and went back to the oven, where she’d prepared garlic mushrooms as a starter and salmon steaks following one of Cat’s recipes. Marianne hadn’t been much of a cook till she got married and was daily grateful for Cat’s no-nonsense cookery books, which had helped her out of many a hole. The food smelt delicious.

‘What’s all this in aid of?’ Gabe came in from the outhouse where he sluiced down after a day on the fields.

‘Just thought I’d make the most of Steven being away for the night and the twins being in bed,’ said Marianne. ‘We haven’t had much time to ourselves recently, what with one thing and another.’

‘True,’ said Gabe. ‘Sorry, it’s my fault. I’ve been so worried about Pippa and Dan.’

‘I know,’ said Marianne, ‘and I do understand that. But …’