Chapter Four
The problem with making excuses or agreeing to things that you hope will go away is that they come around before you know it. Already, it feels as though Prague is heading around the corner faster than one of those Japanese high-speed bullet trains.
For the first time in ages, I feel like picking up the phone to Liz and telling her about the shock of finding out that Aunt Grace had a secret lover from Prague and that I am expected to go and meet him. Liz and Aunt Grace always got on well, and she would love this little titbit of gossip. But now too much time has passed, and I have been the worst friend on earth. How can I possibly call Liz and tell her that I have been a lousy friend because I couldn’t face meeting up since her life is so perfect? I didn’t even invite her to Aunt Grace’s funeral as I couldn’t deal with her positive outlook on life. What will she think of me?
There was a time when we used to tell each other everything. I would confide in her as I failed to get pregnant one month after another. When she conceived and was overjoyed, I feared that our friendship would change. It did change as she got busier being pregnant and then bringing up her children. But I still wish I hadn’t fallen out with her, and I could tell by the last text message she sent me that our friendship was coming to an end. I was in such a sog that I didn’t really care. Perhaps it is a sign that I am getting stronger that I am even thinking about rekindling our friendship again.
There are many things that I need to face up to, including returning my uniform to Charlotte and thinking up a convincing story as to why I am too busy to go to Prague. I should never have agreed to this nonsense with Dewi. I am a grown woman who should simply be able to say no to things. So why is it that when I am put on the spot, I end up agreeing to stuff that I really do not want to do and then look for ways to back out nearer the time? This is why I hate being pressured into things. For many, this could be the trip of a lifetime, but for me, it’s like that doctor’s appointment you don’t want to attend. As the date draws nearer, my nerves are getting worse. It doesn’t help when Ken knocks on the door; I am a jittery mess.
‘Hiya, bach. You alright?’
‘Yes, fine.’ My usual two words to anyone who asks me how I am. Although, I am acutely aware that I am anything but fine today.
‘A recorded delivery for you,’ says Ken, as he hands me an envelope with the address of Dewi’s legal firm on the bottom corner.
‘Probably just airline tickets and a hotel confirmation,’ I mutter.
‘Oh, lovely. You going somewhere nice?’
‘Prague, but I’m not sure I’ll actually be going…’
‘What? You have to go. I’ve been five times now. Beautiful, especially this time of year. You’ll love it.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me.’
I try to smile but feel positively gloomy. Why would anyone want to go away alone as a single person not knowing anyone? Despite plenty of people doing this, for me, it feels like sheer torture. If I am going to be alone, I would rather it be in my own home. I drown out the voice in my head that tells me I’ll sort of know Marek. But what if he no longer lives there? Anything could have happened, and there is a fair chance that I am not going to find him after all these years, no matter how much or how little effort I make. I may as well stay here.
‘Oh right, okay. Anyway… Umm, listen… Did you know you have an injured bird on your windowsill?’
‘Oh no, do I?’
‘Yes, I think you’ll need to take him somewhere, like a vet.’
Oh no. My stomach sinks. I can’t possibly drive into town and take a bird to the vet, that would mean… People!
‘Ah, that won’t be possible for me today. I’m up to my eyes in it. Would you be able to pop the bird in your post van and take it? I’ll pay the vet’s bill.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t. I’m only just starting my rounds, and I can’t leave the poor mite in the van the whole time. I think it needs to be seen by someone now. I tell you what, if I call the vet we use for the dog and make an appointment, you won’t have to wait. You can dash in and out. It won’t take long, I promise. They’re very quick there.’
We walk towards the injured bird, and I try to think of every excuse I can. I’ll say the car won’t start.
When Ken takes me to the bird, I can see it is the robin. Oh no. The robin does look like something is wrong. As I crouch down to it, there is no movement, and it seems to stare into space. I wish it could tell me what the problem is. I wonder if it has hurt a wing? I suppose that would be the obvious reason for its behaviour. Oh, why does Ken have to know what a sucker I am for the birds around here and that I would never leave one suffer.
While I stand staring and panicking about how I can help it without leaving the house, Ken calls the vet and gets an appointment for thirty minutes’ time. That means I will have to run upstairs to change and go immediately.
‘Have you got a little box?’ asks Ken.
‘Huh?’
‘A little box. We need a little box to put the robin in. I’ll help you pop it in if you like.’
‘Umm, no. I don’t think I do.’
‘Can you check? We really need to rush him to the vet in something.’
Oh no, this is just awful.
I rush into the house and look around. On the table, I spot the box that the snow globe came in. It is the only box I have. Aunt Grace loved birds, and I think she would probably approve of the emergency use of the box.
I make little holes in it and hand it to Ken.
‘Oh, that’s perfect. Big enough, but small enough that it should feel safe in there.’
As I change upstairs, Ken carefully arranges the robin in the box.
I quickly search in my wardrobe for ‘going out’ clothes. A onesie just won’t cut it for a trip to the vet. I eventually find a thick woolly jumper and jeans, then grab a scarf and jacket from the peg on the wall in the hallway.
‘Oh, how nice to see you dressed,’ says Ken.
His cheeks suddenly look flushed, and he seems absolutely horrified.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean it funny, like. It’s just, you know… I’ve only ever seen you in a onesie.’ Since Ken is the most married of married men, his comment doesn’t offend me. His family and that golden retriever they have are his world.
‘It’s okay. I understand. Where’s the bird?’
‘Here.’
Ken picks up the box ever so carefully and hands it to me as I open the car door. The windscreen is frosted over. The last time I drove the car was for Aunt Grace’s funeral. I am surprised that it starts the first time. I had hoped it wouldn’t, and then I could have pleaded with good reason for Ken to take the bird.
I let the window defrost as Ken drives off and mentally prepare myself for driving into town. I am tempted to switch the ignition off, remove the robin from the box and set him free. But I realise that would be incredibly selfish of me. I could never do that. I have to help the bird and take it to the vet, no matter how hard it is for me. I look at the box to give me the strength to start driving.
I take my time heading through the country lanes. I have precious cargo and certainly don’t want to hit black ice. I pop on some music to calm my nerves. The Christmas songs are already on the radio, but I suppose it is only a few weeks before Christmas. I start to sing along to an old Kim Wilde Christmas song when I stop myself. I almost forgot that I don’t ‘do’ Christmas any more. As I remember the season of goodwill, my throat almost contracts. I swallow down as if there is a golf ball blocking my windpipe. I take a deep breath to calm down and rub at my chest as though it would help the pain. This is no indigestion though; this is what heartache feels like. I try to remember that it isn’t the time of year that’s the problem. It’s what occurred then.
Thankfully, the roads are clear to the vet’s surgery, and I am surprised that I manage to park okay. I couldn’t bear the thought of driving around for ages trying to find a parking space with an injured bird in the car. In fact, the trip has been much less effort than I imagined.
I walk into a reception filled with tinsel and Christmas advent calendars for pets. It reminds me that it has been years since I had an advent calendar. Craig always bought me one, except for our last Christmas together. It was the only time he said he had forgotten to pick me one up. I used to love opening those compartments to find a nice milk chocolate behind them. Lucky pets to get one filled with Christmas treats. They never had these when I had my childhood hamster, or I’d have had to buy one for my beloved Roland.
A receptionist wearing an elf’s hat greets me cheerily as I tell her about my appointment.
‘Oh, you’re the one with the injured bird, are you?’
‘Yes, that’s right. It’s a little robin. I hope it’s okay.’
‘We have the best vets, I’m sure we can help,’ she smiles.
Ken was right about the clinic being super-efficient.
A vet comes out in a white uniform wearing coordinating Crocs. I look closer to see if she is wearing socks in this cold weather. Surely, she must be with all those holes in them. Her feet would be freezing otherwise. I always believe in being warm and cosy.
‘Hello, I’m Simone. Do you want to come with me?’
My palms start sweating, and I make an odd whimpering sound. I get this sudden sense of dread as I start to panic. I don’t feel as though I can go into the room with the bird. What if the bird got worse, and the vet says something terrible? I honestly couldn’t cope.
‘Sorry, do you mind if you check it alone? I’m a bit emotional at the minute.’
‘No, of course. Not at all.’
Simone takes the box with her and walks off to the examination room.
The receptionist smiles over to me.
‘Would you like me to make you a hot chocolate to make you feel better? We have mini marshmallows. I got them in specially for Christmas for us all.’
My mouth feels parched after all the drama of the morning, so I gladly accept her offer.
Her name badge says Sally and she smiles at me kindly as she hands over the hot chocolate. It is frothy and filled to the brim with marshmallows.
‘This looks lovely. I never realised I could get such a nice hot chocolate in a vet clinic,’ I say after taking my first sip.
‘I used to be a barista. It never left me,’ says Sally.
I watch as the marshmallows plop further into the steamy hot chocolate, melting and frothing away as they sink.
‘Goodness, that is nice. Better than anything I make at home, that’s for sure.’
I have only taken a few sips when the vet returns with the box. I want to block my ears in case she says something terrible.
‘It’s good news. Little robin here is absolutely fine. Nothing wrong at all that I can see. A very healthy specimen, in fact.’
I look up at her in shock.
‘But… It was just there on the windowsill looking sorry for itself and very poorly. How on earth can it be okay now?’
The vet lifts a flap of the box. The robin looks at me and sends out a little chirp and hops about as though nothing has happened. It is as though the vet swapped birds!
‘What on earth?’
‘It might be that the bird had a fright over something. They can be stunned sometimes and shocked if something tries to attack them. I suspect that might be what happened, but he is definitely perfectly fine now, and no damage has been done.’
‘Oh, that is such a relief. Thank you.’
Poor robin, though. I hope nothing tried to attack him. Well, I will ensure nothing ever gets near him again on my watch.
I take a quick sip of hot chocolate and get up to pay the bill, but Simone stops me.
‘No, there’s no charge. It didn’t take me two minutes to check over this little one, and we’re trying to spread the Christmas cheer where we can. I mean, look at Sally here.’
Taking another look at Sally, I notice that she is also wearing a pair of elf ears that peek out from under her seasonal hat. Surely, she can’t be comfortable wearing those!
‘Thank you. You’ve both been so kind.’
I leave the vet with a smile as I carry the little robin towards the car. I want to get it home and back out into its habitat as quickly as I can. However, after all the Christmas cheer in the vets, I can’t help but stop outside a newsagent that has a sale of left-over advent calendars in the window. I suppose most people will have theirs by now. Only 99 pence for a chocolate advent calendar? A bar would almost cost more than that! How can I resist? I rush in to buy one, but it is purely for the chocolate, and certainly not because I am getting excited about Christmas.
Back in the car with the little robin, I drive home slightly faster than on the way in. The roads have thawed, and the sun is shining right down on us, which makes me feel a bit safer and happier.
The radio plays another Christmas song. This time, it is Slade – which was previously one of my all-time favourite Christmas songs. I sing along to it even though I hate myself for it. But how can anyone not sing along to this one? It is physically impossible. So, I figure it is like some kind of reflex action, like when the doctor bangs your knee, and not because I am actually enjoying myself.
When I arrive home, I help the robin out of the box, and it hops away immediately. I feel such relief as I see it hurry across the grass in search of a mid-morning snack. I look at my watch and realise that it is only 11 a.m. and I have achieved so much. I think I deserve a mid-morning snack of my own, so I put the kettle on and start opening the windows of the advent calendar. I have five windows to open at once, and it feels as though it was both mine and the robin’s lucky day. Goodness, it almost feels like… Christmas.
As I bite into the chocolate, I think what a nice morning I ended up having. It went from leaving home against my wishes to meeting nice people and getting a bargain on twenty-four pieces of chocolate! Not to mention the most delicious hot chocolate I ever had.
I settle down to read the latest book I had delivered, but I can’t stop thinking about my morning. I went into town and nothing drastic happened.
What if the story about robins carrying messages is true? What if there could be the possibility of a hopeful future ahead of me, if I am prepared to leave the confines of Willow River Mill?