Читать книгу A Merry Little Christmas - Julia Williams - Страница 12

‘So how exactly can I help?’ Cat Tinsall had tucked her tiny frame behind the ancient oak table which had been in Pippa’s family for generations, and was nibbling on a muffin and sipping a cup of hot chocolate. ‘I have to say, this is the perfect combination on a cold and windy January day. These muffins are delish. Can you give me the recipe?’

‘It’s only my mum’s, which I adapted,’ said Pippa.

‘The best kind,’ grinned Cat. ‘Anyway, tell me what’s going on.’

One of the things that had endeared Pippa to Cat on first meeting her was her can-do mentality. She was willing to help out at the drop of a hat, and frequently had Nathan and George over, without ever asking for anything in return.

‘Well, like I said on the phone, it looks like we’re losing Lucy’s respite care,’ said Pippa. She was sitting opposite Cat, cradling her cup of chocolate, and feeling very gloomy. ‘And I’m not sure what to do about it. I want to get a campaign up and running to save the services, but I don’t know if it’s going to make a difference. After all, everything’s being cut at the moment. Who’s going to care about one family’s small problems …’

Her voice trailed off miserably. Pippa was trying to keep positive about it, but she was a realist. The money had run out. Simple as. And Lucy was only one of many many people who needed help.

Cat whistled sympathetically.

‘What a nightmare for you,’ she said. ‘As if things weren’t tough enough.’

‘Apparently, I’m one of the lucky ones,’ said Pippa. ‘Other people have it worse. At least I’ve got Dan, and the boys are really good and helpful. They could easily resent the time it takes to look after Lucy and they don’t – or they don’t seem to. Of course, I could be in for a whole load of teenage angst, but it hasn’t happened yet.’

‘Be thankful they’re boys,’ said Cat. ‘James is a dream compared to the girls. Mel’s a total nightmare at the moment, and all Paige wants to do is read magazines, wear lots of make-up and listen to rap music with inappropriate lyrics.’

Pippa laughed. ‘It’s not that bad, surely?’

‘Worse,’ said Cat. ‘I swear Paige speaks a language all of her own. Have you any idea what “bad boy” or “peng” mean?’

Pippa looked understandably blank.

‘Me neither. And as for calling me a “swaggerdon”, I have no idea what she’s on about most of the time.’

‘Ah, that I do know,’ said Pippa. ‘It’s from The Only Way is Essex. I think it’s meant as a compliment.’

Cat laughed, ‘Well, you could have fooled me.’ She sat back and had another sip of her chocolate. ‘I do love your kitchen, it’s just the way a farm kitchen should be.’

‘What – old and falling down?’ chuckled Pippa, taking in the ancient welsh dresser with the soup tureen inherited from her great grandmother, the kitchen range that looked like it came out of the ark, and the worn-out flagstones.

‘It has character,’ said Cat. ‘I like it. Anyway, back to Lucy. Have you had any thoughts about what you can do? I’ll help in any way I can.’

‘I’ve written to the local MP,’ said Pippa, ‘but funnily enough – him being part of the government making the cuts – have had no response, so far. And I’m in the process of sorting out a petition. But what we really need to do is figure a way that the centre Lucy goes to can be self-funded and run at a profit. The basic problem is lack of funds – it needs to be able to keep offering the same services, but Social Services are cutting their budgets, and I’m not sure there are any charities who’d be able to step in.’

‘Any of the private care companies shown an interest?’

Pippa pulled a face.

‘I don’t know if that would help. I’m a bit cynical about these companies. You don’t read much good about them in the papers.’

‘The one that runs Mum’s nursing home seems okay,’ said Cat.

‘Still,’ said Pippa. ‘I was thinking of more of a kind of cooperative. If the people who actually benefit from the centre could also be involved, that would be brilliant. But money’s a problem …’

‘Isn’t it always,’ said Cat.

‘So the only thing I can think of for now, is to run a major PR campaign and raise the centre’s profile, and find out if there is a way to get it to self fund. But these services are expensive. Dan and I could pay some of the cost towards Lucy’s care, but lots of the families who use the centre can’t. They need help too.’

Cat thought about it.

‘I’ve always been a bit reluctant to use my mum for the purposes of newspaper articles,’ she said carefully, ‘but I think everyone who cares for someone else is in the same boat. I’ll pitch an article about caring to a few of the mags I write for if you like, and see if I can somehow write a feature about the centre, if you think that would help?’

‘Anything would be fantastic,’ said Pippa. ‘Although I feel a bit shameless, picking my famous friend’s brains.’

‘I’m hardly that famous,’ laughed Cat, ‘and besides, we’re mates. You and Dan made Noel and I feel so welcome when we came here. I’m happy to help.’

Cat slowly drove into the home where her mother lived on the other side of Hope Sadler. It was a bright modern building, on the edge of an old estate, so every room had a view of the impressive gardens that had one day belonged to a long-forgotten local gentleman. It was a lovely location, and Cat was really grateful for the care her mum had received. The home she’d been in briefly in London hadn’t been up to much, and getting Mum up here had assuaged a lot of Cat’s guilt about being unable to look after Louise. She knew it wasn’t practical, but still, she wished she’d been able to.

Ruby had come with her today. Cat never forced the kids to see Louise but she was grateful that even though they referred to her as ‘Mad Gran’, they all still loved and accepted Louise the way she was, and came to see her when they could. Even Mel took herself over here on the bus from time to time. As it happened, Ruby was quite happy to prattle on about what she’d been up to, regardless of the fact that Granny didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, or could barely remember her name. It made visiting easier.

It was getting harder and harder visiting Mum. For a start there was the sheer loneliness of knowing that she could no longer reach her mother in the way she once had. They had been so close once, and Cat missed her mother’s wisdom. Louise would have known how Cat should deal with Mel, and Cat felt all at sea without her support. Noel was much more relaxed about it. He too had been a rebel in his teens and kept telling Cat that Mel would get over it, which was probably true. But, Cat felt a massive failure for not having managed to create the same strong mother and daughter bond she’d enjoyed with Louise before her illness. Guiltily, she felt she’d let Mel down somehow, and the further Mel retreated from her, the less certain Cat was that she would ever get her back.

Their latest row had been about Mel’s mock results which, as predicted, were abysmal. Mel’s response to being told off was to spend even more hours out of the house, presumably at Karen’s, though Cat never knew if she was there, because Mel barely deigned to tell her. Andy’s name hadn’t been mentioned again, and if Cat tried to broach the subject, Mel clammed up, leaving Cat worrying why her daughter was being so secretive about it. Short of locking her in her room to prevent her going out, Cat didn’t know what more she and Noel could do.

Cat and Ruby knocked on Louise’s door, and found her sitting in her chair, rocking back and forth slightly, as was her wont.

‘Hallo, dear,’ said Louise with unseeing eyes. ‘How nice of you to come. I’m waiting for my daughter, she’ll be here soon.’

‘I am your daughter,’ said Cat, holding up the picture of the family which she kept by the bed for this express purpose. ‘See, here I am, it’s Cat. And here’s Ruby, your granddaughter.’

‘What, this little girl?’ said Louise. ‘My granddaughter? Well I never.’

‘Hallo Granny,’ said Ruby, ‘I made you a picture.’

Cat could have hugged her for taking it in her stride.

‘How lovely. What a kind little girl you are,’ said Louise, ‘My granddaughter. Amazing.’

Ruby rolled her eyes at Cat, and said, ‘Yes, Granny,’ before proceeding to rattle off a manic account of her week, which mainly consisted of the fact that Maisie Cordwell was really mean and it was unfair the boys got to play football and the girls didn’t.

Towards the end of her visit, Louise asked to go in the lounge.

‘I need to see Alfie,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a date.’

Cat grinned. One of the few good things to come out of Louise’s condition recently had been meeting up with Alfie, a fellow Alzheimer’s patient. They could barely remember each other’s names, but they seemed to get on like a house on fire.

‘Of course you do,’ said Cat. ‘Here, let’s take you down.’

Taking her mum’s arm, she gently led her downstairs to the lounge where several of the residents were assembled to hear the piano being played by an equally elderly gentleman.

Alfie, a dapper eighty-year-old, whose tidy appearance belied the vagueness of his mind, came straight up to Louise and pecked her on the cheek.

‘Hello me darling,’ he said. ‘Let me take you on a spin around the room,’ and with that he took Louise into his arms, and led her in a waltz, lustily and tunelessly singing ‘Daisy Daisy, give me your answer do!’, while Louise spun round with him looking pink and flustered. She’d clearly forgotten they were there. Cat grinned. ‘Time to go, Ruby,’ she said, ‘I don’t think Granny needs us anymore.’ It wasn’t all bad. Mum was safe and warm and well cared for. Things could be a lot worse.

Marianne rushed into the staffroom, five minutes late for the staff meeting, conscious that her curly dark hair was rebelliously falling out of the clips which she’d shoved back into them, after Harry pulled them out just before she’d left for work. She was late because Daisy had smeared porridge down her top, necessitating a quick change. In fact she wasn’t the only member of staff to arrive after the official time of the meeting’s start, but the way Mrs Garratt, the new Head teacher of Hope Christmas Primary School, looked at her, made Marianne feel that she was a real lightweight.

Mrs Garratt had been brought in by the governors as ‘a new broom’, according to Diana Carew, after the previous incumbent had left under a slight cloud involving missing amounts of money that the bursar couldn’t account for, but she seemed keen to sweep everything else clean too.

Marianne’s mood didn’t get any better when, during the course of the meeting, she had to admit that she wouldn’t be able to help on the Year 4 residential trip to the Black Mountains, as it coincided with a week when Jean and David were away, so she had no childcare. Ali Strickland, who had taken over as Year 4 coordinator while Marianne had been on maternity leave, looked smug as she took over and explained to everyone where the trip was taking place, and what the schedule was. She was taking credit for a trip that Marianne had organised the previous year, before she went on maternity leave. She’d left it all ready for Ali just to pick up the pieces, but unfortunately the original date had fallen through, and without telling her, Ali had rebooked for a date Marianne had been unable to attend. Marianne could see from the slightly pursed look on Mrs Garratt’s face that her lack of commitment had been noted. Mrs Anderson might have had her hand in the till, but at least she’d understood about family life.

In a way, Marianne couldn’t blame Ali. Theirs was a small village school, and there were precious few opportunities for promotion. Marianne had just about managed to negotiate a part-time job share with Jane Sutherland, who’d had a baby the year before her, but Mrs Garratt had made it clear that the situation could be reviewed at any time. Her view was that part-time teachers were not the most effective way of managing staff maternity leave, and Marianne felt conscious that she was under the microscope, the previous five years’ worth of dedication she’d given to the school seeming to count for nothing. But, it was money, she was still hanging on by her fingertips, and for now, Marianne had to be content with that.

She became vaguely aware the meeting was winding up. Marianne was so tired, she had not exactly been dozing, but her mind had certainly been elsewhere, so it was with a certain amount of trepidation she heard Mrs Garratt saying, ‘So, Marianne, I understand it is normally your job to put on the local nativity. Can we count on you to help the community out again this Christmas?’

Biting back the retort that, if Mrs Garratt was really interested in the community, she would have known that Marianne had put on the nativity as usual only a month ago.

‘Er, to be honest, I haven’t given it much thought,’ said Marianne. ‘I’ve only just got over last year’s efforts.’

‘I understand,’ said Mrs Garratt, ‘and I appreciate it’s a long way off, but I was just thinking it would be an excellent opportunity for Ali to show us what she’s made of. So I thought that perhaps next year, we’ll hand it over to her.’

Marianne had in fact been thinking that putting on the nativity was a bit much now she had family commitments, but the idea that something she’d put her heart and soul into over the last few years could just be taken away from her like that was a further kick in the teeth.

Miserably, she went to her classroom, and started writing up the literacy topics for the day. Once upon a time she’d loved this job, now she was beginning to hate it. What’s more, every day she was here was a day away from the twins. She felt like she had the worst of all possible worlds.