The Christmas Spirit Page 10

  Fortunately Amelia knew Meredith well, despite the fact they didn’t spend a great deal of time together, and she saw how overwhelming and bewildering it all was for her.

  ‘Let’s go into the kitchen,’ she said, once she had greeted her clan with a kiss on the head each, to cries of, Get off, Mum! from some and a hug from others.

  ‘Sit yourself down,’ Amelia told Meredith, ‘And I’ll make us some tea. Would you like anything to eat?’

  Meredith shook her head. She would have preferred coffee, but Amelia had suggested tea. Unlike her usual self, she didn’t argue the point; she didn’t have the energy. Glancing around her sister’s kitchen, it occurred to her how homely everything looked and as if it got used. She thought of her own kitchen, which contained so many items which she had barely taken out of the box. Her coffee machine was the only gadget she really put to good use. Her kitchen work surfaces shone, mainly because of her cleaner and perhaps because she rarely dirtied them.

  As she watched Amelia make tea, a sense of calm descended over her. The kitchen was like an oasis set apart from the madness of the rest of the house. She remembered that the guest bedroom was at the back and was grateful for that. Perhaps she could read or work on her laptop in peace there.

  ‘Did you have someone stop by my office to pick up my laptop, like I asked?’ she enquired of Amelia.

  ‘Nope,’ Amelia replied cheerily. ‘The doctor said you have to rest and he meant it. You’re burnt out, which is why you got sick in the first place.’

  Amelia could be as bossy as Meredith when she set her mind to it. Meredith had no-one to take care of her and although Amelia would hate to be termed a busybody, she would interfere if the situation called for it - like now.

  Meredith didn’t know whether to be incensed or grateful. In some ways it would be nice to have a rest, something she never did, but in others, she had a company to run and Sophie, for all she was a great assistant, knew nothing about running a company.

  ‘I have a company to run,’ she reminded Amelia.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. Do you think this hasn’t happened to anyone before, especially those with their own companies? Well it has, and doctor’s orders are doctor’s orders, otherwise you’ll risk having a relapse and going back into hospital. So you see, it makes sense just to rest now,’ came Amelia’s sage response.

  Meredith could see the truth in that, but surely it couldn’t be good for her health for her to be feeling so anxious about what was happening to the company whilst she was gone?

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Amelia broke into her thoughts, reading her mind. ‘I’ve spoken to Sophie and we’re working this out together. She can handle most things and if she can’t and no-one in the office can, she’ll let me know. So far she hasn’t needed to contact me. See?’

  Should she be insulted or delighted that her staff didn’t feel they needed her? Maybe she could take an occasional day off, then, if they felt they could cope? But she knew that it was she who had problems letting go of the reins.

  Sipping the tea that Amelia put in front of her, she decided she had to concentrate on getting better. She knew that she was a long way from being fit and well, so the most important thing was to recuperate as quickly as possible, so she could get back to work.

  ‘Do you have anything I could read?’ she asked Amelia, her expectations low.

  ‘Well, what kind of books do you like? I have chick lit, crime, thrillers, non-fiction. Any of those do you?’

  She did like a good thriller, or she had when she’d last read a book a few years ago - the last time she took time for herself.

  ‘A thriller would be great, thanks.’

  ‘Give me a minute. Gareth finished one last night. I think he left it in the living room. Said it was fantastic.’ Meredith watched Amelia’s retreating back, then heard her talking to the children. A few barely audible groans emanated from them in response, then she returned with the book, ‘There you go.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m quite tired, actually.’ She yawned then said, ‘I think I’ll go up to my room for a while.’

  ‘Come on, then, I’ll show you where everything is. No, leave your bag, I’ll get it,’ remonstrated Amelia, ‘You’ve not to do overdo it.’

  Meredith mumbled her thanks again and climbed the stairs to the guest room. When Amelia told her to go in, she opened the door and was greeted with a profusion of flowers; roses, lilies - maybe not the best choice, but still sweet of her, and chrysanthemums, placed in a lovely arrangement on the dressing table.

  ‘What lovely flowers,’ Meredith said, surprising herself.

  ‘Yes, Alannah made the arrangement for you,’ Amelia explained. ‘She’s very good. She always does ours, too. I’m rubbish, and she insisted on making a special arrangement for you coming to stay.’

  Meredith was touched. So, her sullen, monosyllabic niece could be sweet and unselfish? She had barely said two words to Meredith when she arrived. In fact she hadn’t said two words, she’d only said, hi, then returned to her foot tapping.

  As Meredith surveyed her surroundings, taking in the pristine quilted hundred per cent cotton comforter, the abundance of pillows, and the immaculate guest room she had been given, she thought, maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  16th December

  The cry of, ‘Sheba! Come here, girl,’ woke Meredith. She had now been at Amelia’s house for just shy of forty-eight hours and no-one had come to blows, there had been no icy silences nor awkward moments. Mostly she had slept. The children had behaved beautifully, playing out in the garden when the rain was off and playing indoors but more quietly than usual when the weather dictated.

  Meredith recognised the voice as Jasper’s. Over the past few days she’d worked out that Jasper was the one who mainly walked the dog. Meredith had never owned a dog, although she did like them and in fact her family had always had dogs when she was growing up. Amelia had continued the tradition with her children, and the golden retriever was clearly an important part of the family.

  Meredith joined the family for meals and sometimes to watch a bit of TV together. She had a TV in her room, but she discovered she wanted the company; she wanted to see what the children were doing. Being surrounded by children was a novelty for her and she found them quite endearing in their own full-on, one hundred miles an hour way. She wrapped her bathrobe around herself and made her way downstairs.

  The scene which greeted her was one of chaos: four children, three of them in school uniform, digging into bowls of cereal, munching pieces of buttered toast, and coaxing pieces of egg out of their egg cups. Sheba lay at the foot of one of the chairs, whilst Max, the youngest, tried to chew round his toast, without actually eating it. The previously immaculate kitchen was anything but. Worktops were covered in lunchboxes, with various pieces of fruit, packets of raisins and sandwiches with the crusts cut off lined up in rows, as if on parade. A pile of dirty clothes was heaped in front of the washing machine - towels from the children’s showers that morning and their pyjamas, except Max’s. He was still wearing his. Toast crumbs, marmalade-covered knives and Pokemon figures graced the breakfast table.

  Far from turning around and walking away in disgust as she would normally have done, Meredith pulled up a chair and sat down with them. The children immediately started firing questions at her. Her favourite had to be Edward’s; ‘So how come it’s new monia and not old monia?’ At this point his mother interjected and gave him a bit of a spelling lesson before explaining the meaning of the word. Meredith smiled. Maybe Amelia had the right idea. She was surrounded by people who loved her, had a nice lifestyle, and a husband who adored her. Am I missing out? she wondered.

  The weekend had been a long one, and miserable weather too, which Stanley often felt went a long way to setting your mood. He had been glad when Monday had come around again. The night out at the pub the other night with a few of his friends from the club had done him the world of good; hopefully they could do it again
soon. Stanley had noticed that not everyone came to the club every day, or even on the three days that he did. Many had to pay for it, particularly if they had private pensions. Stanley felt that was unfair, even though he didn’t have to pay. Forty pounds a day seemed pretty steep to him. Who would have that kind of money? But apparently there were a few; not that you’d know to look at them. They didn’t seem any different from himself. Or maybe they were widowers, too. That went a long way to explaining why a man wasn’t as well turned out as he could be, particularly if his wife had done everything for him whilst she was alive.

  Lunch had been quite tasty again: broccoli soup, chicken pie with potatoes and peas, and rhubarb crumble to finish. He certainly couldn’t make that himself, so he was delighted to have a good, square meal at least once a day. Thinking back to Edie’s cooking always made him smile - she had been a wonderful cook, plain food, but she enjoyed making it and it shone through in the end result. Lucky wasn’t the word for how he considered himself - all those wonderful years together. He’d always assumed he would go first. Life had a way of teaching you, he thought, that not everything could be planned as you expected.

  Stanley had worked out that on Mondays people had a little bit less verve. They preferred a more leisurely day at the club, reading or doing the crossword. The domino tournaments and debates were more likely to happen midweek onwards. So he had followed suit that morning and read his book quietly, occasionally talking to one of the other members.

  Although traditionally after lunch they were all a bit sleepy, today was an exception. Cathy had told them earlier that she had some news to share with them, so the members were all trying to work out what it could be. Some guessed they were moving the club, others that they were changing the hours, or the transport, but no-one guessed the real reason.

  ‘Right, everyone,’ Cathy’s voice boomed around the room. ‘I’m going to draw the raffle for the fundraiser we did for you, and I need a few volunteers to pick out the tickets.’

  A few hands shot up and as Cathy walked around, hands delved into the depths of the bucket to pull out winning tickets. The top prize was a Christmas hamper, donated by the local butcher. It went to a Mrs P Dean from Aberfoyle. None of the members won anything and there was a great deal of grumbling about that until Cathy said, ‘I also have an announcement to make. We managed to raise the grand total of six hundred and seventy five pounds, and Crilly’s Hotel down the road had a last minute cancellation, so you’ll be having a Christmas party. Get your Sunday best looked out!’

  At this, applause broke out and then the members gave three cheers for Cathy who had masterminded the fundraiser.

  Blushing, she said, ‘You deserve it. Just behave yourselves. I don’t want you all getting blitzed and me having to carry you home.’

  Laughter rang out and the mood within the room brightened, eclipsing the gloomy weather outside.

  As Cathy told them all the date and time of the party, Stanley had a little inner monologue with Edie. She approved of the club and was glad to see him getting out and about, enjoying himself. It would be something to look forward to.

  Across town, Rebecca smoothed down her new skirt and removed a piece of imaginary lint from her matching jacket. It had taken her and Hannah only three hours on Saturday to find the perfect outfit for the interview. Navy, as opposed to dreary black, bias cut.

  She had arrived for her interview fifteen minutes early, only to find another two candidates waiting. ‘Mr Melbourne’s running a little late,’ the receptionist advised her when she stated who she was. ‘Please take a seat.’

  Rebecca ran over and over in her head what she wanted to convey to Dominic Melbourne, so he knew she was the right person for the role. What would it take to persuade him she ought to be his new assistant manager?

  As it turned out the interviews didn’t last long, as each candidate before her was in and out in less than twenty minutes. Finally Rebecca’s name was called, and she rapped on the door to Mr Melbourne’s office and was invited to come in.

  As soon as she shook his hand, she immediately liked Dominic. She knew she would do a great job for him, and he quickly put her at ease. She thought she had given intelligent answers to all of his questions and when he asked her if she had any of her own, she came up with pertinent, well-researched ones, which demonstrated her knowledge of the art world.

  Dominic’s comments were encouraging, so she was a little subdued when he said only that he would be in touch.

  What did I expect, that he would offer me the job on the spot? Rebecca scolded herself as she opened her car door and slumped onto the driver’s seat. She felt as if someone had just pricked a hole in her balloon. But this was the first opportunity of any merit which had presented itself in such a long time - this was her job, it had to be. So why didn’t it feel as if was going to happen? Both the telephone interview and the face-to-face one had gone really well, but there was a lack of commitment on Dominic’s side which worried her, unless he just had a good poker face. Chastising herself for her negativity and trying to convince herself that Dominic was just being a professional and interviewing the rest of the candidates first before making any decisions, she headed home.

  As Rebecca made dinner that night, it occurred to her that her interview had lasted an hour and a half, more than an hour longer than the two previous candidates’. Surely that boded well?

  Chapter Nineteen

  17th December

  A baby. He was going to be an uncle. And Tabitha wanted them both to stay with him! Had he imagined that part? But no, Tabitha had been very clear. She thought they would rub along well together and quite frankly she needed him. How was she supposed to take care of a baby on her own? She could hire a nanny, but she had said she preferred to keep it in the family. Working part-time from home and having Jacob for support in the evenings and weekends would allow her to do that. Given that their parents hadn’t been around for them, she didn’t want to repeat that mistake with her child, she’d told him.

  Initially Jacob had been gobsmacked, but now he’d had time to get used to the idea and was warming to it. He loved children and hoped to have some of his own someday - obviously after finding a partner with whom to have them. He didn’t need to worry about girls right now, he wasn’t on their radar, but if Tabitha and the baby did move in, he’d have even less chance of getting a girlfriend. He could hardly take a girl back to his, when they might be disturbed in the throes of passion by Wah wah! Throes of passion, he could barely remember what they were. He’d be as well in a monastery for all the action he was getting, and his latest rejection by Rebecca, no matter what the reason, hadn’t helped his self-esteem.

  Reflection was a great thing and after having slept on it, Jacob had decided that it would be a brilliant idea to have his sister and niece or nephew live with him. He’d always wanted that sense of family which his parents had been unable to give him and Tabitha. He wanted the next generation to be surrounded by love and their relatives.

  ‘So how does that thing work?’ Meredith asked Edward. So, seven-year-old Edward showed his usually staid, unwelcoming, snooty, forty-something aunt how to play Super Mario on his tablet computer.

  Within forty minutes Meredith was entering new worlds, capturing keys and arguing with Edward good-naturedly about whose turn it was. An hour later, laying down the device, she said, ‘That was fun. Amelia, OK if I use the phone?’

  Amelia nodded and when asked if she had a Yellow Pages replied that it lived in the rack of the phone table. Meredith smiled; Amelia must be one of the few people who still possessed a phone table. Those had gone out of fashion aeons ago with the advent of cordless phones. Long gone was the banishment to the hall to sit in the freezing cold to make or take a call.

  Meredith sat on the chair beside the phone table, looked up Sugar and Spice in the Yellow Pages and rang the number. After four rings, a voice she recognised answered. ‘Sugar and Spice, Natalie speaking.’

  ‘Hello, Natalie, this
is Meredith Storm.’

  ‘Oh hello, Meredith. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Much better, thank you, although I’ve been told to take it easy for a while.’

  ‘Quite right, too. You’ve got to treat these illnesses with respect.’

  ‘Yes. Anyway, I was just phoning to thank you for your quick thinking last week. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re most welcome. We hope to see you in here when you’re better.’

  ‘Well, I might come myself occasionally and allow Sophie to get on with some work,’ Meredith thought out loud. ‘Oh, and can you tell the young man who works with you...’

  ‘Jacob,’ Natalie broke in.

  ‘Yes, Jacob. Can you thank him from me, too, for calling the ambulance?’

  ‘I will do.’

  ‘Well, I’ll let you go. I know you must be busy. It really is a great little bakery and those Christmas specials you’ve been making are delicious.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m so glad you enjoyed them.’

  ‘Well, take care,’ Meredith finished awkwardly.

  ‘You too, goodbye, Meredith.’

  Natalie replaced the receiver.

  Well, well, well, she thought.

  Meredith had another task she needed to address and she was running out of time. She usually spent weeks or months selecting gifts for her family. It was the one family-centric activity to which she gave her full attention. She dialled her office number, and the receptionist, after asking how she was, put her straight through to Sophie.