Читать книгу Love At Christmas, Actually: The Little Christmas Kitchen / Driving Home for Christmas / Winter's Fairytale - Jenny Oliver, A. Michael L. - Страница 19

Chapter Eleven

December 2005

Megan was trying to be upbeat, holding Skye close to her as they sat around looking at the Christmas tree in the centre. They’d been kind, the people there, finding her a room. She’d made her money last, sparingly spending on food, trying to figure out what she could do. She thought there might be a way to use the crèche at the centre, and look for a job. If she could get a job, she could get out. But Skye wasn’t even six months yet, and the idea of leaving her with strangers made Megan’s chest contract. She’d crashed with Beanie, a friend who’d gone off to uni in London the year before. Beanie’s parents were loaded, and she had a gorgeous flat in Chalk Farm. But the point was that a baby in student accommodation wasn’t really fair, and she’d always planned to leave. She needed a plan, and for once she didn’t have one. She’d applied for housing, would be getting a little money every month when the papers went through, she’d been assured, but until then she was waking up each morning in the hostel, not sure if there’d be a bed for them the next night. As much as the people at the centre were trying to help her, she was still scared all the time. She’d known it was going to be difficult, but she didn’t really think about what ‘homeless mother’ meant before. She’d only been focused on leaving her mother’s disgusted look behind her. She was never going back. She’d put up with whatever she needed to.

Skye looked up at her, big hazel eyes already intelligent and loving. ‘We’re going to be okay, baby girl. I promise.’ She held her close, rocking her back and forth, and wondered what her parents were doing. Whether Matty was still waking up late and rolling down just in time for dinner, his Christmas Eve-induced hangover debilitating as always. She imagined the smell of the turkey, and her mother’s gingerbread stained-glass biscuits. How the tree always looked so higgledy and yet so perfect, with the same radio station playing in the background until she nearly went nuts with Christmas carols.

‘We’ll make our own traditions, baby,’ she whispered, her lips to Skye’s forehead. ‘We’ll start completely new.’

‘McAllister? Is Megan McAllister here?’ The woman from the reception desk walked through, waving a piece of paper. Megan raised her hand.

‘There’s a woman here to see you. She says she’s your aunt.’ The lady handed over a Christmas card. On the front there was a picture of Mary in the stables, surrounded by the animals and the three wise men. Inside the card read:

‘A bit late to offer my barn for the birth (it took a while to track you down). Please spend Christmas with me? From one black sheep to another. Anna.’

‘Is she still here?’ Megan asked the woman, who nodded. Megan picked up her bag, nodded, and walked out into the snow.

***

That night, after Lucas left, Megan felt like Skye might need distracting, seeing as she kept playing the old red fender and talking about music non-stop.

‘Shall we call Anna and wish her Merry Christmas?’ Megan said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be crazy busy with her decorating and her guests, but let’s see if she can fit us in, eh?’

Skye was more than keen, and they sat up on the bed, legs crossed, the phone on speakerphone in between them.

‘Anna! Merry Christmas!’ they sang down the phone when she answered.

‘Well, hello darlings, Merry Christmas,’ her throat croaked.

‘Have you got a cold?’ Skye asked, concern etched across her face. Anna was never sick.

‘A little bit. I suppose I may have overdone it this party season, darlings.’ Anna coughed slightly. ‘Jeremy has been a great help though. It looks beautiful. Completely twenties. I’ll leave the decorations up so you can see them when you get home.’

‘And you haven’t opened your present yet?’ Megan checked, her voice overly cheerful as she watched Skye, hand to cheek, eyes calculating.

‘No, mother, I’ve been completely good.’ She could hear Anna rolling her eyes. The word mother stuck, and Megan thought suddenly, Anna’s my grandmother. Skye’s great-grandmother.

‘And are you girls having a good time in the village? Everything as painfully quaint and ordinary as usual?’ Anna drawled, her derision evident.

‘Well, we made friends with Lucas, and I’m learning to play with the guitar, and Granddad plays chess, and Gran makes cookies, and I met my biological father in a fish and chip shop, but he was pretty boring, so I don’t think it’s a great loss.’

Anna wheezed, ‘Well, that certainly sounds eventful, darling. Definitely something to put in your diary.’

‘It’s not a diary! It’s a detective notebook!’ Skye whined.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, of course. I miss you and your wonderful quirks very much. I can’t wait to see you when you get back.’ There was a pause and she wheezed heavily. ‘Do you think I could talk to your mum in private for a minute, love? Is that okay? And me and you will have our private chat tomorrow?’

Skye shrugged, looking at her mum, who nodded.

‘Okay, love you!’

‘Love you too, sweetness. Merry Christmas.’

Megan picked up the phone and turned off speakerphone. ‘Why don’t you go see if grandma needs any help trying to make that Oreo cheesecake she’s especially making for you? You’re an expert.’

Skye looked irritated. ‘You don’t need to find excuses, I know you need to talk in private.’ She flounced out of the room, and Megan waited until she heard the heavy footsteps running down the stairs.

‘What’s going on, Anna?’ she said simply.

‘I’m not very well, darling, as I’m sure you’ve heard.’

‘Jeremy alluded to something, but he was pretty cagey,’ Megan said irritably. ‘What’s wrong? Should we come home?’

‘Darling, you are home.’

‘You know what I mean, how unwell are you?’ Megan pushed, knowing the answer was going to be one she didn’t want to hear.

‘Well, if you must know, I’m quite beyond reprieve,’ Anna laughed. ‘I’d hoped to present it slightly better than that, perhaps with a slideshow.’

‘Did you know about this before we went?’

‘Of course. Why do you think I made sure you went? I wanted you and Skye to have a family.’

‘We have a family,’ Megan insisted, trying to stay angry so she couldn’t be upset, ‘we have you. Why, of all years, would you make us leave when you were ill?’

‘Because, as much as it might surprise you, being an invalid is not something I particularly revel in. And I wanted this business sorted with your mother before…’

‘Before…?’ Megan felt herself take a sharp intake of breath. ‘Before what?’

‘Before Christmas is over,’ Anna answered smoothly. ‘Really, darling, stop being so dramatic. You’ve always been so stoic. Having a baby in a park, living in a hostel, working in that dive bar. You never make a big deal of things. And I’d rather you didn’t now.’

Megan paused, checking the door was closed. ‘Are you…are you dying?’

‘We’re all dying.’

‘Stop it. Stop that right now.’

Anna sighed, her voice a little less affected. ‘Yes, I’m dying.’

‘And you sent us away?’

‘I wanted you to reconnect with your mother. It was my gift to her. To both of you. I’ve never been very good at fixing things, but I hoped that by relinquishing you, you’d start to put the past behind you.’

Megan breathed deeply. This holiday had been one emotional beating after the other. She wondered if it was too late to find Belinda and wait for her to say something horrible, just so she could punch her.

‘You want us to move back here and start our life again with my parents?’ she asked.

‘God no, in that little village that doesn’t even have a theatre? What am I, a philistine? No darling, I’m leaving the house to you, you’ll come back here and live your life as you please, of course.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant, Anna.’ Megan felt the tears start in her chest, staggering and breathless.

‘I know, sweetheart. But look, no need to get yourself all worked up. We’ll talk tomorrow and you’ll come back in a couple of days and we’ll have some time to get it all worked out.’

‘You promise?’ Megan asked, wiping her eyes.

There was a long pause, until a very quiet ‘yes’ came from Anna.

‘Okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘Sweetheart, I don’t think I need to even say that I don’t want everyone knowing about this?’ Anna’s strong voice returned, light but warning.

‘Who’s everyone?’

‘Anyone.’

Megan shrugged. ‘You don’t think they’d want to know?’

‘I just want everyone to have a nice day. I’ll tell your mother on Boxing Day, promise.’

Megan nodded, saying nothing.

‘I love you, darling, you’ve given me the most wonderful ten years. Made everything…made me myself again. No one could have done that but you. And Skye,’ Anna coughed, rarely one for expressing her emotions. Megan wanted to say something equally powerful, but anything she said now would feel like goodbye.

‘Love you, Anna,’ she said simply, ‘you’ve…you’ve done everything for us.’

She hung up, with the terrible realisation that sometime soon she was going to have to tell Skye the truth.