A Merry Little Christmas

Chapter 16

Merry

Merry entered the lounge at Springwood House, followed by Emily, who was pushing Ray in the wheelchair. Her back was aching after working at the shop yesterday and she was having serious regrets about the angora jumper she was wearing; the temperature in the home was virtually tropical and Merry could feel the steam rising from her warm body. Today was one of those days when she felt more beached whale than blooming, and she could have really done without accompanying Emily. But Emily was heading to the airport straight from here and Gail had wanted to see them both together about Ray’s health before she left.

The lounge, like the rest of the building, was exuberantly decked out in all its festive finery: a plump Christmas tree sparkling with glittery baubles in the bay window, chains of tinsel decorations looping lattice-like across the ceiling, fairy lights around windows and sprigs of holly and mistletoe tucked into the top of every mirror and picture frame. It was tea time, which meant that the lounge was full. Irrespective of the varying states of the residents’ memories, almost all of them knew that tea and cake wasn’t something to be missed. After a year of being a visitor, Merry knew many of them, although circumstances meant they didn’t always remember her.

‘I’ll put your chair here near the fire, Dad,’ said Emily, rubbing his arm affectionately. ‘Unless you’d rather sit at the table near Bernard?’

Ray was recovered from flu and having one of his better days. He’d been sitting up in bed when they’d arrived and talking about getting dressed and leaving his room. Everyone agreed that the change of scene might do him good, but his legs were weak from lying down for so long and the carers suggested he hitch a ride to the communal part of the home in a wheelchair.

‘Sofa please. Sod Bernard.’ Ray tried to get out of his chair, but his arms didn’t have the strength to pull himself up. He gave in to a coughing fit and sank back resignedly.

Merry and Emily exchanged worried glances. His lungs sounded very congested.

‘Poor Bernard!’ Merry said, waving to her dad’s friend. He had a female visitor with him, and they were playing Scrabble; Bernard would spend all day playing Scrabble if he could find an opponent.

‘Who are all this lot then?’ Ray gestured around the room vaguely. ‘What are they doing in my house?’

‘Same as you, Dad,’ Emily told him. ‘Waiting for a slice of lemon drizzle and a hot drink.’

‘Over here by me, dear,’ called Lavinia, who had a soft spot for Ray. ‘We can watch the television together like the old days. I’ll even let you choose the programme.’

‘Is Mary Berry on?’ Ray asked.

‘Yes. Probably.’ Lavinia pressed at the remote control repeatedly. ‘Possibly not. Damn it.’

‘Oh, Lavinia, you’re incorrigible. He doesn’t want to watch TV,’ her friend, Maude piped up, from the middle of a sofa so enormous and soft that she was swamped by the cushions. ‘Sit here, Ray, loads more room, and we can have a nice chat.’

‘Look at that, Dad, the ladies are arguing over you,’ Emily teased.

‘I met Mary Berry once.’ Ray allowed Emily and one of the carers to help him onto the same sofa as Maude. ‘She’d lost her car keys. I had to give her a lift in my van.’

Merry smirked at her sister. This was a well-worn story. If Ray were to be believed, Michael Caine, Barbara Streisand and Joey from Friends had all, at one time or another, had lifts in Ray’s van. It was obviously sad how confused he was, but knowing her own father’s little foibles and being able to share them with her sister still felt like a dream. She didn’t think she’d stop marvelling at how precious these two people were, and how lucky she was to finally have a family to be a part of.

Once they’d got him settled with a mug of tea and a small piece of cake, Merry found a seat away from the fire where it was slightly cooler, while Emily went to speak to Bernard and fetch them both glasses of water.

‘How’s the Scrabble king?’ Merry asked, gulping her cold water when Emily returned.

‘Missing Will,’ said Emily. ‘Says that his friend Hilary isn’t a patch on him at games, which went down very well, as you can imagine. I’ve said Will plans to visit him next time he’s here.’

Will had been Bernard’s occupational therapist this time last year, as well as his Scrabble partner, and had even on one occasion cut his toenails for him. No wonder he was missed.

‘You must be looking forward to seeing him too,’ Merry said.

‘He’s meeting me at the airport, and I can’t wait to see him.’ She chewed her lip. ‘But I’m worried about leaving Dad in case anything happens. He’s so frail, and that cough is still awful. If it was anybody else’s birthday party, I’d make my excuses, but I really don’t want to let Izzy down, she’s been so good to me, and she wants her husband to have a fantastic fortieth.’

They both looked over to where Ray was sitting, now sandwiched between Lavinia and Maude. He’d already dropped off to sleep and the two women were tussling over a blanket they were trying to tuck over his knees.

Secretly, Merry was worried too. There’d been times over the last few weeks when she’d felt as if he’d checked out of life altogether. She’d been to see him, only for him to simply sit in his chair listlessly, staring out of the window at nothing. She’d hated those visits, mentally willing him back to lucidity, hoping that he’d at least recognise who she was and talk to her.

‘Try not to fret too much. He’s in the best place,’ she reassured her sister. ‘Gail is on the ball, and I’m here.’

Emily gave her a stern look. ‘With more than enough on your plate already. Promise you’ll call me if you’re worried about anything at all.’

‘Promise.’ Merry’s voice shook.

Emily meant anything concerning Ray, but Merry had a whole other list of things which were keeping her awake at night. Like how to be a role model to a small person, about how to cope with a baby when Cole was away, when they were going to move into the new house and how the baby was doing since her waters had broken, was it still thriving? If she stopped to think about everything that she was worried about, she’d dissolve into tears.

Emily glanced at her phone as a text came through. ‘That’s my taxi.’

Merry felt herself gripped with dread. Despite the circumstances, it had been a relief to share the stress of Ray’s fading health and generally just lovely spending time with her sister. ‘I’m going to miss you. And thank you again for taking me shopping for baby clothes. I’ll always treasure the things we found.’

Emily’s surprise trip on the afternoon of the candle -making workshop had been to their favourite vintage shop in Bakewell, where Merry had found her wedding dress last year. They’d sifted through baskets of baby clothes and found the most exquisite lace christening gown, three hand-crocheted cardigans and a delicate patchwork quilt with baby animals all over it.

‘I probably loved it more than you did, and I’ll be back as soon as this baby comes,’ Emily promised. ‘If not before.’

‘You’d better be,’ Merry said wanly, as Emily got up and helped her to her feet.

‘You are OK, aren’t you?’ Emily studied her sister’s face.

Merry hesitated, wondering whether she could tell her the truth.

Not really, I wanted a baby more than anything, but I don’t know if I can do it. Being a mother feels so daunting, and now I realise just how much I’ll have to give up.

‘Of course,’ she said instead, deciding against it. ‘Just got a bowling ball pressing down on my bladder, but apart from that, happy as a clam.’

‘Ouch,’ Emily giggled. ‘No wonder you look tense. I’d better say goodbye to Dad and go.’

She gave Merry a hug. ‘Love you.’

The baby chose that moment to start its afternoon aerobics and Merry took Emily’s hand and guided it to the right spot.

‘And I love you too, little one,’ said Emily. ‘Please be good for your mum.’

‘More to the point,’ Merry murmured, ‘will I be good for the baby?’

Emily couldn’t have heard the note of anxiety in Merry’s voice because she called her a loon, gave her one last kiss and ran to say goodbye to Ray before dashing to get in her taxi.

Ten minutes later, Merry was in the ladies’ bathroom feeling perilously close to tears. She was probably just tired. She should go home and have a rest, then perhaps this morose mood would pass. This time last year, she’d been planning her wedding and had really wished her mum could have been there to help her. Now, her first child was on its way and Merry was missing her mum even more fiercely than ever. She would love to have someone to reassure her that she was going to make a fantastic mother, that just because Sam hadn’t felt capable of looking after her daughter, it didn’t mean that Merry didn’t have what it took to be a good mum to her own baby.

She’d tried to explain to Cole how inadequate she felt, but instead of really listening to her underlying worries, he’d told her how Lydia had been just the same when she was expecting Harley and how every new parent wishes babies came with a manual and that everyone muddles through in the end. How his first wife coped wasn’t what Merry wanted to hear and didn’t help in the least.

She half regretted not confiding in Emily while she had the chance, but there’d been a slight danger of Emily feeling the need to warn Cole about Merry’s worries. That was the last thing she wanted. Nell was the one she really wanted to confess to, but that wasn’t an option, not now that Nell and Olek were having fertility problems. How could she admit to being scared about her impending role as a mother when poor Nell was desperate to be in her position? It would be cruel. And that was weird, Merry mused, that Nell didn’t want to talk about it; they’d always talked about everything in the past.

Her phone buzzed with a text message, and she took it from her bag to read. It was from Cole and her heart squeezed with a rush of anxiety, followed by a burst of sadness at how quickly and how low their relationship had sunk. She took a paper towel from the stack and dried her hands before reading it.

Darling girl, I’m sorry we argued, and I’m sorry we haven’t made up before now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you straight away about going to Germany. Originally, Astrid planned to go before the due date mid-Jan and I’d agreed to go, but obviously everything has changed now. TBH, Astrid is pushing me into this, she’s extremely keen, and Dad’s worried she’s going to go back to Germany without him. Families, eh!

But I’ve let Astrid know I won’t be going, and she understands.

I’m sorry Meadow View isn’t ready yet, but I give you my word I’m throwing all my best men at it to speed it up. We’ll be in as soon as humanly possibly, I promise. I’m cooking your favourite tonight, and we can snuggle up by the fire and watch a film, I promise I won’t say a word if you make me watch The Grinch again. I love you xxx

‘Oh Cole,’ Merry murmured. She didn’t deserve him; he was too gorgeous, kind and thoughtful. This baby was the luckiest child in the world – alongside Freya and Harley – to have him as its daddy. If only – if only she could say the same about its mother.

Her eyes pricked with tears and for once, instead of blinking them away, she let them fall.

She was mopping her eyes a few minutes later when the door opened and Bernard’s elderly Scrabble partner walked in. She was a no-nonsense, steely-haired woman in an olive-green jumper and tweed trousers, the sort you knew would always have a clean handkerchief and would calmly see off a burglar with a few sharp words.

‘Oh dear,’ she said, spotting Merry’s tears. ‘I can either look the other way and save you the discomfort of having to explain yourself …’

‘Or?’ Merry asked with a sniff.

‘Or you can unburden yourself to a stranger,’ she said, briskly. ‘Easier than telling someone with skin in the game, I always think. I’m Hilary by the way. Ex-colleague of Bernard, and apparently one of his few friends. Hardly surprising given how rude he is to me.’

She locked herself into a cubicle and Merry twisted her damp tissue between her fingers, debating whether to make a run for it or take the opportunity for a non-subjective ear.

‘I’m Merry Robinson,’ she began in faltering tones. ‘I’m Ray’s daughter. My baby is due very soon.’

‘Yes, well, I might not be an expert in these matters, but that much I’d gleaned for myself,’ said Hilary.

No wonder she got on so well with Bernard; neither of them took any prisoners and it appeared that Hilary had no time for sentimentality. Opening up to her might actually be just what Merry needed.

‘Yes, sorry for stating the obvious. It’s my first baby.’

‘Ah. Big change then.’ The older woman flushed the loo, opened the door and joined Merry at the sink.

‘Huge,’ Merry agreed. ‘I grew up in care and haven’t had the benefit of a loving home like my husband has.’

‘My dear,’ Hilary frowned, ‘I’m so very sorry to hear that. I worked on the periphery of the social care system myself as an archivist for many years, as did Bernard, as a matter of fact. We have a robust system for looked-after children in this country, but, as you rightly say, nothing compares to the family home environment.’

‘Exactly. All I wanted growing up was to feel as if I fit in, but I never quite did. Right from my first ever stay with foster parents when my mum needed a break from looking after me. The other kids didn’t have another home elsewhere like I did. It felt like it was my fault that I was there, as if I was so badly behaved that my own mum couldn’t cope. But then, when it was time to go home, it didn’t feel right there either.’

‘So your mum was around when you were being fostered?’ Hilary shook water droplets off her hands and held them under the dryer.

Merry nodded. ‘At first. She took her own life when I was eleven.’

Hilary tutted. ‘Gosh, that’s tough.’

‘My experience of family life was gleaned from TV, or enviously glimpsed from the lens of my friends’ experiences. Neither felt real to me. We were a family of two, until we were a family of one, which isn’t a family at all. I have memories of her laughing and dancing in our flat, but are they real or imagined? Is that simply what I wanted our life together to have been? And if it was real, why didn’t she love her child enough to stay alive? She didn’t have a clue where I would be sent, or who would end up raising me. When she gave up on life, she gave up on me.’

‘Now, now,’ Hilary soothed. ‘Perhaps your mum was in a difficult situation that you weren’t aware of as a child. In my work, I came across heartbreaking stories, dire circumstances and some awful cases of pure bad luck. Of course, there were examples of bad people who should never have been allowed to have children in their care. But, in my experience, the majority of parents loved their children, and often their reasons to give up a child came from a place of love. Maybe she loved you too much to want to keep you.’

Merry let that sink in for a moment. Could her mum have been motivated by love after all? It was a heartening notion. ‘Thank you, that’s reassuring.’

‘And you didn’t have other family?’ Hilary asked.

‘She was estranged from them and there was no one else at that time. I don’t even know for sure if Ray is my father, although he’s adamant he is, and my half-sister Emily and I have decided that that’s enough. I didn’t even have anything of hers as a keepsake until my wedding day when Dad gave me the ring he’d proposed to her with. She turned him down, so it was never really hers, but it’s the best I’ve got. It’s only a small thing, but I wish she could have shared her thoughts with me, left me a note. People write suicide notes, don’t they? Maybe it wouldn’t have helped, it would have made no sense to me as a child, but now … I’d have loved a window into her world. A chance to understand and know her, woman to woman. She used to write me letters when I was with foster parents; it has always felt wrong that she didn’t leave me one final letter.’

Hilary winced. ‘That’s a shame. You know, perhaps she did, and it got mislaid. Things got filed or stored away for safekeeping for when the child was older. But the system wasn’t fail-safe and occasionally items got misplaced or misfiled. It has improved now thanks to digitalisation. In fact, that was one of my jobs in the 1990s; to handle the transition from paper to computer records. It used to drive me mad when I came across documents which weren’t in their correct file.’

Hilary disappeared into her memories for a moment.

‘Maybe that’s how I should view it,’ said Merry, ‘that Mum did leave me a letter but that it went missing.’

‘It’s not an entirely preposterous supposition.’ Hilary frowned. ‘What was her name?’

‘Sam, Sammy Shaw,’ Merry supplied. ‘She called me “M”, which is ironic because I call my sister Emily “Em”.’

‘M,’ Hilary murmured. ‘M, hmmm. Gosh, that does …’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry, dear, your story has brought back some memories and I feel a little unsteady.’

‘Are you all right?’ Merry asked, concerned. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve completely overshared with an almost stranger.’

‘Not at all, and don’t apologise.’ Hilary blinked as if clearing her vision. ‘I’d better get back to Bernard before he works out the Scrabble points for “search party”!’

‘Of course, sorry to have kept you. I’ll say goodbye to Dad and head home. Lovely meeting you.’

‘You too, dear, you too. You sent me on quite a trip down memory lane.’

‘Thank you for listening to me.’

Hilary took both of Merry’s hands in hers. ‘I know I don’t look like it, but I’m an old hippy at heart and a big believer in fate. I think we were meant to meet.’

‘Me too,’ she agreed. ‘Just when I needed someone to confide in, there you were.’

‘I don’t have children, so feel free to take my advice with a pinch of salt, but I would wager that you have a much wider support network to help with baby than your mother did, so try not to worry about the things that might go wrong, focus on the things you’re looking forward to.’

Merry nodded. ‘You’re right of course. I’ll try.’

They walked to the door together, both trying to open it for the other. Hilary won.

‘Just remember to ask for help occasionally,’ Hilary said gently. ‘People aren’t mind readers.’

Merry walked back into the lounge pondering Hilary’s advice. She could admit to struggling now and again, she supposed.. It was time to start trusting the people who loved her, the people who in turn would trust her to help them out when they needed it. After all, how did the saying go … it takes a village to raise a child? Merry shuddered. The very thought of having an entire herd of people getting involved was enough to give her sleepless nights; it was effectively how she had been raised in the care system. Nope, this baby was going to be raised by its mother; the opinions of the rest of the village would not be required, thank you very much.