Читать книгу Love At Christmas, Actually: The Little Christmas Kitchen / Driving Home for Christmas / Winter's Fairytale - Jenny Oliver, A. Michael L. - Страница 17

Chapter Nine

‘You did what? ’ Jeremy’s excited voice floated down the telephone. ‘With whom? ’

‘Stop sounding so scandalised, you heard what I said.’ Megan rolled her eyes, nibbling on a gingerbread biscuit, one of her mother’s stained-glass ones which Skye had presented to her proudly, before disappearing.

‘And how was it?’

Megan surrounded herself in the memory of Lucas, hard against her, nibbling her neck, making her lose her breath.

‘Addictive. Dangerous,’ she sighed, ‘wonderful.’

‘Well, that’s my Christmas wish come true!’ Jeremy said. ‘At least one of us should get laid this holiday. As it is I’m hiding in my cupboard because none of them can see clearly in the dark of the office.’

‘You’re playing hide and seek with a bunch of pensioners?’ Megan laughed. ‘Way to be infused with the Christmas spirit.’

‘Unless the Christmas spirit is tequila, I want none of it,’ he said seriously. ‘How’s Skye with everything?’

‘A trouper who’s too good for me, as usual. We bumped into her…father.’ She sounded out the word. That wasn’t what Joey was. Joey was a man who had happened to knock her up ten years ago. And he was a father now, to kids he had with the She-Devil. He wasn’t Skye’s father. She didn’t need a father, she’d said so.

‘And how’d she take it?’

‘Wasn’t massively impressed by him, and turned it into a joke. Said she’d rather not see him again, and then ate her weight in ice cream. You think that’s normal?’

‘Nothing about that kid is normal, and that’s why I love her. When are you back?’ Jeremy whined. ‘I need support.’

‘A couple of days after Christmas. You need back-up against the biddie brigade?’

Jeremy paused, and a knot appeared in Megan’s stomach. ‘Anna’s not very well, and she’s a bit low on energy. That’s all.’ He was sing-songing, and Jeremy didn’t do sing-song.

‘Jez…’

‘She collapsed a few days ago, so we took her to A and E. She said she’s just a little run down from the excitement of the holiday, but…’ He took a deep breath. ‘She didn’t seem surprised at whatever test results they gave her. And she won’t talk to me about it.’

‘Shit,’ Megan said.

‘Yeah, but the truth is, if Anna was in serious trouble, you think she’d handle it like a martyr? Nope. She’d be singing songs on her death bed and calling for speeches and champagne. I’m sure she’s fine. Really.’

‘Do you think I should come home?’ Megan asked him, biting her thumb. Part of her would be relieved to get out of there, but still…they hadn’t really aired everything out. And there was Lucas. And Skye was still dealing with everything.

‘Don’t you dare! You stay there and you make up for your last ten virginal years. Anna said she’ll call tomorrow.’

‘Right.’ Megan hovered. ‘Well, make sure she does.’

They said their goodbyes, and as Megan put the phone down, she tried to talk herself out of worrying. But Anna had been their rock for the last ten years. She’d protected them, taken them in, made them a family. For all her dry humour and minor alcoholism, Anna loved them being around. And if she was sick, and they were away for the first Christmas ever…well, something about it seemed wrong, and selfish.

She asked her mother later on, who was a one-woman Christmas machine, constantly stuffing, cooking, basting, glazing or baking something. Or making lists. Heather McAllister was a list-maker. She glanced up at Megan, with one pair of glasses sitting on her nose, the other pair on her head, pen desperately scribbling away.

‘What’s up?’

‘Anna’s not very well. Jeremy said she fainted, and they’ve been doing tests. Has she said anything to you?

Heather sighed, and put the glasses she was looking through onto the table, putting the list away. ‘She never tells me anything. In truth, all we talk about is Skye. The one good thing about everything that happened was that it opened a channel between me and Anna. We had something to talk about again.’

‘Why did you guys never talk when we were kids?’ Megan asked, pulling up a chair.

Heather tensed. ‘Families have secrets, darling, and when they’re revealed, people get hurt.’

‘Anna has secrets? Well, she had a pretty crazy career as an actress, things were always going to happen.’

‘This was before that, it was because of it that she went off to become an actress. Running off to London, making a life in the big city full of strangers, instead of staying home where people could talk.’

Heather looked tired, and worn, and Megan put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Shall I make us some tea?’

Her mother nodded, and when Megan brought two strong teas back to the table, in bright red Santa mugs, Heather exhaled strongly. She’d made a decision to talk about everything, clearly. She reached across the table and put thirty minutes on the egg timer.

‘I can’t burn another turkey,’ she laughed, ‘but we need to talk about some things.’

Megan nodded. ‘I’m listening.’

Heather tucked her dark hair behind her ears, tapped her fingers on the table. ‘I’d always adored my big sister. She was the pretty one with those big eyes, and perfect dark hair. She was so glamorous. When I was a kid she played with me, held me close and cuddled me. And then she was gone, off to London at nineteen, and she forgot about me. Sure, she came back for Christmas, Easter, brought beautiful presents, and told me all her stories, but it was like she was distancing herself from us, like she was ashamed.

‘There was a big age gap between us. Sixteen years. Your grandparents were good people, but they’d never expected to have another young one around, they were preparing to have a relaxing life. I was expected to entertain myself, and I did. I was happy enough.’

Megan frowned, not really knowing what this had to do with Anna. She was annoyed because her older sister had gone off to live her life?

‘Anna came back for my wedding to your dad. I was in my mid-twenties. I’d wanted her to be my Matron of Honour. She’d married her first husband, Ralph. Awful man, all about money, all airs and graces. I hated him.’

Megan shrugged. ‘I don’t remember him.’

‘Oh, he was long gone before you were born. Only lasted a few years. If I’m not mistaken he revealed himself to be gay only recently. Anna loved that. A good story.’

Heather rolled her eyes, and Megan suddenly noticed how much she looked like her mother, and how much Skye looked like both of them.

‘Anyway, on the morning of my wedding, Anna comes in, all emotional and over the top. I think she’d had a few drinks. And she tells me she has a secret to share with me, something about our family. And it’s only right, going forward to my own family, that I know the truth.’

Heather pressed her lips together, shaking her head. ‘Of all the times, a few hours before I’m due to get married, she wants to drop a bombshell. Drama and tears, Anna all over. She’s a drama shark, attracted to it like blood. She seeks it out…’

Heather stopped herself, realising she was ranting, and moaning, which wasn’t what she’d planned. She took a deep breath and looked at Megan.

‘Anna told me she was my mother.’

Megan felt her jaw drop. ‘What?’

‘She’d got pregnant at sixteen, and Mum – I mean, well, her mother had convinced her to let them raise me as a sibling. That way she could still go on with her life, avoid the scandal, the responsibility. It all made sense really, how much she’d loved me when we were younger, how she pushed me away as she grew up.’

Heather stared off into the distance. ‘I banned her from my wedding, can you believe that?’ She shook her head. ‘I regret it now, but I was so angry. It was meant to be the happiest day of my life, and it was suddenly all about how my family had lied to me, and betrayed me.

‘And I think I was most annoyed about her wanting to tell me. It didn’t make a difference. I wasn’t suddenly going to call her my mother. In my head she just wanted the drama, wanted a good story at my expense.’

‘She told you because she wanted to tell you, not because it was what you needed to hear,’ Megan said quietly, and Heather’s eyes snapped to hers, nodding.

‘Exactly,’ she sighed, ‘and then when you came home that day…’

Megan stilled. They were going to do this now? Her aunt was actually her grandmother, and her mother had been holding it all in for years, and now she wanted to deal with their relationship too.

‘Mum, you don’t have to. We’re fine now.’

Heather took her hand, tears in her eyes. ‘No love, I was so wrong. I just, I saw it happening all over again. The lies and the messiness, people talking and… I’d spent so much time since that day trying to create this perfect family, trying to cover up. And all the years before that I spent trying to make you into this perfect automaton. I never even asked you what you wanted. I was more worried about what people thought than I was about my own daughter. And I’m so sorry.’

The last words were squeaked out through tears as Heather bowed her head.

‘It’s okay, Mum. It all worked out okay. And here we are.’

‘I thought you’d come back. We kept trying to find you. I thought, “eventually she’ll realise, she’ll know we’ll be here” but you never did. And then I got the call from Anna…’ Heather hiccuped, working herself up, ‘and I thought, “there she is again, breaking up my family, thriving on drama”…how awful is that?’

‘It’s not, Mum, it makes sense,’ Megan shushed her, unsure of how to deal with such an emotional outpouring from a woman who had always been loving, but firm, distant. In control.

‘I’m so proud of you, you know. The way you’ve raised Skye, with so little support…you’ve just…you did it all by yourself…’

‘I didn’t, really,’ Megan shrugged, ‘I had Anna, I had Jeremy. A bunch of crazy old ex-actresses who kept trying to get me to do Kegel exercises all the time…’

‘They’re not wrong, you know,’ her mother laughed, wiping away her tears.

‘I wanted to show you I could do this, that I knew what I was doing…but I didn’t. I didn’t have a clue. But I wanted you to meet my daughter one day and love her as much as I do.’ Megan sniffed a little, trying not to give in to the overwhelming desire to throw her arms around her mother.

‘I do, we all do. It’s pretty impossible not to, isn’t it?’ Heather smiled, patting her daughter’s hand. ‘You did good, kid.’

‘I know,’ Megan nodded, ‘but we’ll do even better now.’

They sat quietly, sipping their tea for a while, letting the emotions sap away into the Earl Grey and silence.

‘So Lucas has been around a lot lately…’ Heather said slyly, raising an eyebrow at her daughter.

‘Some things don’t change,’ Megan laughed.

***

Megan had escaped to Lucas’ for a while after talking to her mum. It was like a great outpouring of everything that she’d felt and known and wondered about for most of her lifetime, and she was exhausted. But more than that, it was like the floodgates had opened. If she was going to be open with her mother, maybe she needed to do that with everyone. The problem was, Lucas was a calming presence, he always had been. She’d always loved to just sit there in the corner of his room whilst he fiddled on his guitar, or wrote down lyrics, half-humming to himself. She was safe in the quiet with him. Which was why she was currently curled up with him on his sofa, quietly enjoying the feel of him holding her and not expecting anything else.

‘You’re different now, you know,’ Lucas said suddenly, head tilted like he was trying to figure out exactly what it was that had changed.

Megan shrugged. ‘The whole “being a mother” thing might be a clue. She has to come first, always. I was pretty good at being selfish before.’ Still am, she thought to herself, somehow still guilty that she could be curled up with Lucas, pretending nothing was different, when her daughter was at home. Skye was fine, she was happy to spend time with her grandparents. But there was some little part of Megan telling her that she was selfish for having fun, that she shouldn’t be here at all. She tried to stamp it down, smiling at Lucas.

‘No, it’s not that, you were always terrible at putting yourself first anyway. You’re just less…angry now. You’re okay with who you are, and who they are,’ Lucas didn’t have to say he meant her parents, ‘you haven’t got that chip on your shoulder any more.’

‘Nothing to prove,’ Megan shrugged. ‘I disappointed them in the biggest way possible, threw away every dream they’d been trying to grow in me since I was a kid. After that, I was free.’

Lucas smiled sadly, pulling her in closer to drop a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘And that’s why you never would have stayed with me.’

Megan looked up and nodded. ‘It’s why I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. In many ways, Skye gave me a reason to get out, to take the path I wanted. If I’d stayed with you, they would have controlled me in the same way they always did.’

‘I knew you loved me,’ Lucas said, ‘I knew it couldn’t have been that. I thought maybe you didn’t trust me. That you couldn’t trust me to look after you.’

She shook her head against his chest. ‘You did have a lot of contempt for those girls in the village who got knocked up, you said they’d never do anything with their lives.’

‘A lot of people never do anything with their lives. They lose it in a plodding circle of TV, food, work and sleep.’

‘Sounds nice,’ Megan yawned against him.

‘I could have come with you, you know. We could have started somewhere new together.’

Megan thought back to that night, when he asked her to stay, and she’d never felt so truly loved by someone in her entire life. She felt safe, like she wasn’t a disappointment or a disgrace.

‘I lay there for hours thinking through every alternative, you know. I thought about that. And then I thought about Clare, and what would happen if you weren’t there. That your mum never signed with her, and she’d be alone and isolated, and you’d never get the chance to play in a band, or make it big. I wanted that for you. And I couldn’t do that to Clare.’

Lucas huffed. ‘Wow, you really thought of everything.’

Megan nodded.

‘You could have put some of that in the note so that I didn’t have to spend the last ten years thinking you left me behind because I was a failure.’

‘Why on earth would you think you were a failure?’

‘Because you couldn’t trust me to take care of you.’

Megan sighed. ‘You took care of me for most of our lives. I knew you could take care of me, take care of us. But I didn’t know whether I could do it, and I needed to know. I could speak advanced French, and paint beautifully and write sonnets, but I didn’t know how to use a washing machine. I needed to know I could do something for myself, that I could be a mum and be decent and good. Not an angel, or a fallen angel, just a person.’

‘You’d have let me come with you if I was the father though, wouldn’t you?’ Lucas said sharply.

‘Probably. But only because it would have been your right,’ Megan sighed.

Lucas squeezed her. ‘You’re a bloody complicated woman, you know that?’

‘I was a complicated teenager. I’m pretty simple now.’

He tangled his fingers into her hair, his thumb stroking her neck. ‘Nope, always complicated, Megan McAllister. You’ll always make things more difficult than they need to be.’

‘And what does that mean, exactly?’ She pulled back to look at him.

‘It means that we both know this isn’t casual, we both know that we have something here that can last beyond Christmas and this village. And you’re going to pretend as long as you can that it doesn’t exist.’ Lucas leant in and kissed her gently, pulling back briefly to lock eyes with her. ‘I’ll let it go for now, but at some point you’re going to see what we are, Meg, and you’re going to have to make that decision.’

‘Nothing comes before my daughter, Luke, nothing.’

Lucas looked briefly amused. ‘No, but she’s a terribly good shield isn’t she? Skye and I get on, I love her to bits. I was willing to raise her before she even existed, that hasn’t changed. The decision is nothing to do with her, or me, or your parents, or this place. The decision is about whether to let me in. I can’t keep knocking at your door, Meg, not if I think you’re never gonna answer.’

Megan looked at him, his eyes so bright and sincere, that soft grin playing about his mouth because he knew he was right and was trying to be gentle.

‘I hate metaphors,’ she said softly.

‘I know.’

‘I hate how you make me make these big life-changing decisions.’

‘I hate how you run instead of making them.’

She wriggled in his arms, warm, and soft, and safe. The way it always had been.

‘Keep knocking just a little while longer, okay?’

‘Okay,’ he breathed.

***

February 2003

‘It’s that boy! I always told you he’d drag you down!’ Heather screeched at her, following her around with a piece of paper the school had sent home.

‘He’s not dragging me anywhere! We make music together!’ Megan yelled back, feeling shaken by the frequency of these arguments. It had taken years for her to find a voice, and now it felt like she couldn’t stop. First the hair dye, then the piercings, then the band. The day her cherry red Fender Strat arrived, delivered to the front door, her mother started such a screaming fit that Megan had to lock herself in her room to get away from it. And here they were again, round one thousand.

‘Oh that’s what they call it these days, is it?’ Heather smirked. ‘Music? It’s a wonder you haven’t got yourself knocked up.’

‘We’re in a band, Mum, I don’t see what’s so strange about that.’

‘This letter says you’ve been excused from your extra gymnastics and when I called the French tutor the other day, she said you’d already cancelled! Are you trying to throw your future away?’

‘I am trying to have some say in the life I build for myself! I want to pick my future, not the one you’ve picked for me!’

Heather’s face grew cold. ‘You selfish little bitch!’

A soft cough came from the background, where Jonathan stood watching the whole scene. His face was blank, and Megan couldn’t tell if he was going to say anything or simply let it carry on.

‘Jonathan?’ Heather said, smug smile on her face. ‘Do you have anything to add?’

Jonathan said nothing, standing in the corner, still as a statue. After what seemed like an age of looking to her father for some kind word, some staying hand, he simply avoided her eye contact and said, ‘Go up to your room Megan, please.’

She did so quietly, her mother’s words on repeat…selfish little bitch selfish little bitch…

An hour later her father came upstairs with a mug of tea and a bowl of soup, but said nothing. She wasn’t even surprised.

***

Jonathan was pottering around in the den, cleaning his vinyls and humming along to James Taylor. Megan was still trying to get used to how her parents looked different, more calm, more…provincial, somehow. Looking at them now, she got the strange feeling that they were never that scary, were never really able to exert any control over her. Like they’d known that all along, and that’s why they’d held the reigns so tightly. Not that she’d ever get over that look of disgust on her mother’s face, but the words were starting to fade a little. One thing was still bugging her, though, and it was more the things that had never been said. She’d been honest with everyone else; it was Jonathan’s turn.

She coughed, and knocked on the door to the den. His eyes lit up, ‘Come in, come in!’ and he pushed a few papers over so she could sit down on the sofa. ‘Is Skye with you?’

‘She’s reading upstairs,’ Megan started. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you…’

Jonathan nodded seriously, dragging over a swivel chair from the desk and perching on it.

‘Do you need money?’ he asked, ‘because I’m more than happy –’

‘No, Dad.’ Megan held up her hand. ‘Thank you, but we’re very much okay. I just wanted to talk to you about everything that happened, about…well, about everything.’

Jonathan looked down at the floor, a slight colour appearing in his cheeks. ‘Okay, what would you like to say to me?’

He looked like he was building a mental dam, preparing for the great waves to come crashing down. Megan didn’t let it stop her.

‘Why did you never defend me when Mum got on one of her over-achiever moments?’ she started gently. ‘You knew I didn’t want that life, you knew I was trying so hard, that I was working myself until I passed out. You knew I was exhausted and miserable and was only doing it to please her. Why didn’t you help me?’

‘Darling,’ he exhaled roughly, his eyes a little wet, ‘what do you think I’d been doing for the last twenty years of my life? Working until I was exhausted and miserable, just to please her.’ He shrugged. ‘Making her happy was the only thing I knew how to do. I never knew how to say no, and I just trusted she knew what was best.’

Megan knew the disappointment showed on her face.

‘I know I’m a coward,’ Jonathan said suddenly, ‘I know I should have stood up for you. All those times you were tired and ill, and I knew you were trying so hard, and I was just… Your mother was different then. I was different then.’

‘What changed?’

‘Well, you leaving, for a start. The realisation that you’ve failed your child, that you couldn’t be there for them when they needed you – it puts things in perspective. And without you to be her project, your mother actually went out and got hobbies, interests of her own.’

Megan nodded, noting that everything in the house seemed to have slowed, become gentler somehow. She thought perhaps it was that Jasper existed, and that her dad had taken retirement. But he was right, Heather was different.

‘It came from a place of love, Megan,’ he sighed, ‘a place of awe, even. Your mother thought you were so wonderful that you were capable of anything.’

‘Of anything but living a life that was mine,’ she replied dryly.

‘Well, you’ve proven her wrong, haven’t you?’ Jonathan smiled, and reached over to squeeze her hand. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea?’

Megan smiled back and nodded, getting up.

‘Did you get what you wanted from me?’ Jonathan asked her, pausing before they entered the kitchen.

‘I think so,’ she shrugged, knowing that it was more about her saying it than about him saying anything in return. They had only just set foot in the kitchen and greeted her mother when Skye burst in.

‘Trouble says he’s going to take me to see the reindeer in the park, can I go?’

‘Just you?’ Megan said, trying not to feel left out. Her mother laughed at her, standing doing the washing up.

‘I asked if we could spend some time together and he said yes,’ Skye shrugged. ‘Well, no, actually he said to ask you, and if you said yes, it was okay. So is it okay?’

Skye was rarely so excitable, yet there was a niggling feeling in her stomach. Sure, it was great that she and Lucas were on good terms again, it was great that Skye liked him. But it was impermanent. She had escaped this village once, and she wasn’t staying any longer than necessary.

‘Baby, did you already see the reindeer the other day? I thought you said they were boring?’ she asked.

Skye nodded. ‘But Lucas said he’s going to take his guitar and we’d sing them Christmas carols and…we wanted to practise a song for you. As a Christmas present…’

‘Is that the truth or are you just wheedling?’ Megan asked, head tilted, hands on hips. Jeremy called it Mum Mode.

Skye rolled her head. ‘It’s true, but he told me not to tell you, so it could be a surprise. But I said you don’t do surprises and I’d have to tell you, and now I have.’

Megan blinked. ‘When did all this happen?’

‘He gave my his phone number and said I could call whenever I wanted. Please, Mum? I want to be really good at playing!’

Megan looked to her mother, who shrugged, clearly amused as she continued with the washing up.

‘A couple of hours. Christmas Eve is a time for family,’ Megan said, wondering whose words she was stealing. ‘We’re going to call Anna this evening too.’

Skye’s face lit up, and she launched herself at her mother. ‘Thanks! You’re going to love it! It’ll be the best Christmas present you’ll ever get! Trouble promised!’

Megan relented, arms still around her daughter,. ‘You still want to be a detective though, right? No dreams of being a rock star? Because it gets you into trouble, believe me.’

Skye grinned. ‘And being an inspector doesn’t?’

‘Better amps and bass, than dead bodies and hitting Colonel Mustard in the library with a vase,’ Heather nodded.

Megan looked at her mother incredulously. ‘Thanks, Mum! Big help!’

‘So Trouble can come get me? I’ll go call him!’ Skye rushed from the room.

‘Tell him to bring his new car, I don’t want him taking you out in that death trap!’ Megan called after her, turning back to find her mother laughing and shaking her head.

‘Welcome to motherhood,’ she said.