Chapter 3 Jennifer #3
And that was that. Her easygoing son had shut himself off.
He’d worked, he’d seen friends, but he hadn’t dated, and after a few years, when she’d plucked up enough courage to ask about whether he thought he should perhaps put himself out there again, he’d said if I want pain, I’ll just stab myself through the heart.
Martin had been a rock. It was a type of grief, he’d assured her, and he’d get over it in time. When she’d asked how much time, he’d said that it would take as long as it took.
And it wasn’t that she had a particular wish to see her children married, but she did want them to be settled and happy, and she’d never been entirely convinced that Jamie had ever recovered fully from Poppy.
That had been six years ago, and then a few months ago, out of the blue, he’d started mentioning a girl. Hayley. It had been Hayley this and Hayley that, and Jennifer had felt herself relax because finally Jamie had managed to move on. He was having fun again.
What she hadn’t anticipated was that he would move on so completely that he’d want to marry her within a matter of months.
“I looked up her social media feed,” her mother said, and Jenny, who was rarely surprised by anything, was surprised.
“You did? Since when have you been on social media?”
“How else am I going to stalk my grandchildren? They’re busy people, and this way I can see what they’re doing and keep an eye on them.”
“You follow them on social media?”
“I do. It keeps me young.”
“Really?” It had the opposite effect on Jenny.
It made her feel old. On one particular platform, everyone seemed angry, and watching that anger was exhausting.
On another, everyone was young and gorgeous and everything in the world around them was perfect.
Clothes were never wrinkled, hair was never frizzy, food was never burned.
Even when people took photos of books, they were perfect.
There were no wrinkled covers or turned-down corners or strange sepia blobs that might have occurred when one was paying more attention to the words on the page than the relative angle of one’s coffee mug. “You don’t follow Hayley too, do you?”
“Yes.”
Jennifer felt faint. “Mum, you shouldn’t—”
“I’m interested! What’s wrong with that?
She has a large following, so I hardly think she’d going to notice little me lurking in the background.
Anyway, her posts—that’s what they call them, in case you didn’t know—all seem very wholesome.
She’s part of the solo travel community, or she was until she met Jamie.
She posts all sorts of wonderful photos and tips. ”
“I thought Jamie said she was an illustrator.”
“That’s her job, but she’s self-employed so she takes her inspiration from her travels.
Young people today are very bold. I’m full of admiration, although I do wonder if she gets tired of moving around so much.
The girl never seems to be home. She’s what they call a digital nomad.
I can’t believe you don’t know all this. ”
“I try and give my children privacy. Also I’m always scared I’ll ‘like’ something by mistake.”
“What’s wrong with liking something? I’ve done that myself several times.”
“Mum!”
“What? If she wanted to be private, she wouldn’t have a public account. She wants people to look. She has a huge following. Half a million people. Sometimes she posts pictures of her illustrations. She’s talented. She and Rosie will have plenty in common.”
It occurred to Jenny that her mother, aged eighty-four, knew more about modern life than she did. When Jamie had first mentioned that Hayley was a digital nomad, she’d had to look up what it meant. She still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it all. There were days when she felt decidedly old.
“Is there anything else you’ve discovered about her that I should know?”
“According to her website, she’s a Pisces and her favourite colour is indigo.”
“Indigo?”
“Somewhere between blue and violet. I looked it up. Oh, and she’s addicted to Christmas movies.”
Jenny stared at her. “Christmas movies?”
“The ones where everyone smiles all the time and eats gingerbread without putting on weight. She loves everything to do with Christmas. She admitted as much on her account this week. Last year she spent Christmas in Lapland and posted wonderful photos of the northern lights. She stayed in a beautiful cabin that looked like the inside of Santa’s grotto, and she fed reindeer and went on a sledge pulled by huskies.
I can’t wait to ask her about it. I might persuade your father to take me there, although I don’t suppose his arthritis would appreciate the cold.
” Her mother put her knitting aside and picked up her coffee mug.
“And as for Christmas movies, they’re the perfect thing to watch while you’re doing the ironing, don’t you think? ”
Jenny avoided ironing whenever she could. “I’ve never watched a Christmas movie.”
“Really? I love a good Christmas romance. I can’t believe you’ve never watched them. They’re often on in the afternoons.”
“I don’t watch TV in the afternoons.”
“Well, you need to make an effort. Hayley has told all her followers to stay tuned for some perfect festive posts because she is about to have her first-ever family Christmas and she knows it’s going to be the best. Even better than Lapland.”
“Is she talking about staying with us?” How on earth could Christmas at the Mill be better than Lapland?
How was she supposed to compete with Santa’s grotto, reindeer and the northern lights?
Jenny felt a flutter of alarm at the thought of half a million strangers seeing the inside of her house.
She was going to have to keep it tidy, and that would be a major challenge at Christmas.
Did Hayley photograph people? Would Jenny need to be doing her hair and makeup several times a day?
“What exactly is she expecting? What happens in these movies?”
“Nothing happens.” Her father filled in a few more squares of his crossword. “Sometimes I’m forced to sit through them, and I can assure you that nothing happens, so don’t worry about it.”
“Nothing stressful happens,” her mother corrected him. “And really that’s the point. You are guaranteed a stress-free ninety minutes. It’s not about the plot, it’s about the setting and the atmosphere. It’s all cosy and soothing.”
“In other words, it’s nothing like a real Christmas, which is rarely soothing.
In a Christmas movie, no one ever fights, no one takes too long in the bathroom and all the gifts turn out to be something you’ve always wanted rather than something you can’t wait to pass on to some other unsuspecting individual.
” Her father put his pencil down and checked his watch.
“Crossword finished in forty-five minutes. Good to know the old brain is still working.”
Jenny helped herself to one of the mugs of coffee. “So what you’re telling me is that in order to impress my son’s new girlfriend, I’m going to have to pull together a dream Christmas.”
What did that mean exactly? What did she have to do that she didn’t already do?
Her father stood up and strolled to the window, rubbing his shoulders to relieve the ache.
Jenny felt a pang of sympathy. He rarely complained but she knew his arthritis bothered him, particularly in cold weather and the temperature had dropped dramatically overnight.
“It will be simple,” her mother said. “Just do what you always do but add more fairy lights. You can never have too many fairy lights.”
“Fairy lights? You mean other than the ones that go on the tree?”
“Yes. Put them everywhere, including the garden.”
“The garden?” That was the one place she didn’t usually have to think about at Christmas, but apparently that was about to change.
“Yes, I saw some very pretty lights that you can hang from a tree.”
“At least you won’t need fake snow.” Her father was staring out of the window. “Looks as if we are going to have plenty of the real stuff. If it carries on snowing this heavily the roads will soon be impassable. Let’s hope that doesn’t prevent them from getting home.”
“I hope so too.” Her mother opened the tin of cinnamon cookies Jenny had baked for them and put a few on a plate.
“I’m looking forward to meeting this girl of Jamie’s.
Maybe I could help plan their wedding. And obviously it will be good to spend time with Rosie and the lovely Declan.
He’s the strong, silent type. Perfect for Rosie. ”
Her father turned, a smile on his face. “The man probably can’t get a word in edgeways so he has no choice but to be silent.”
Phyllis broke a cookie in half. “You’re not to tease Rosie. You know how sensitive she is.” She turned back to Jenny. “I’m looking forward to getting to know him a little better. He seemed rather overwhelmed by us all at the wedding. I wonder if Rosie is pregnant yet?”
“Do not ask that question!” Jennifer went hot and cold at the thought. “That is overstepping.”
“I know. You’re not allowed to ask these days. But she is my youngest grandchild.”
“It doesn’t matter where she is in the birth order. You still can’t ask that question.” Jennifer could just imagine the response if she did. “And don’t ask Becky about boyfriends, either.”
“Why not?”
“Because young people don’t like being asked about these things.”
“It’s caring. I’m showing an interest.”
“No mention of pregnancy and no mention of boyfriends. Promise me.”
“I’d better not promise, but I’ll do my best. But it would be nice if Becky met someone, don’t you think?”
“I want her to do whatever feels right for her. And if she’s happier single, that’s fine with me.”
Her mother scraped up crumbs that had fallen on the table. “I hope it won’t be hard for her seeing her brother getting engaged.”
How would Becky feel if Jamie announced his engagement? First Rosie, and now her brother. Becky didn’t talk about her relationships, so Jenny didn’t even know if she was seeing anyone. Presumably not, or Rosie would have told her during one of their many chats.
And although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Jenny was worried.
On the surface, Becky seemed like the toughest of her three children, but Jenny knew that underneath she was as sensitive as the others, possibly more so.
As a child, whenever Rosie was upset, she’d crawl onto Jenny’s lap and seek comfort.
Becky had hidden behind the sofa and stayed there until she had her emotions under control.
No amount of coaxing would persuade her to talk about how she was feeling.
Of all her children, Becky was the hardest to read.
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” Her father turned. “You’re planning a wedding and we don’t know that Jamie and Hayley are getting engaged. You’re making assumptions.”
Jenny forced her mind from her youngest child to her eldest.
“I took a delivery of champagne yesterday.” She helped herself to one of her own cookies. “Why else would he order that?”
“Possibly because he’s wise enough to know that we’re going to need alcohol to help us through the festive season.” Her father returned to the table and drank his coffee. “I hope you’re well stocked, Jenny. More important than fairy lights.”
Jenny wondered if Hayley, who had never experienced a family Christmas, might find their family a little too much.
She thought about what Jamie had told her in his excited phone call. She has no one, Mum. This is going to be her first-ever family Christmas.
Her heart had ached imagining Hayley as a little girl, envying all the family Christmases she imagined everyone else was enjoying.
And it ached now for the grown woman who still craved the joy of spending the festive season with family, even though they weren’t her own.
Was she going to be bitterly disappointed by the reality?
Was the whole thing going to be a giant letdown compared to her fantasies?
It seemed it was Jenny’s responsibility to conjure up an atmosphere worthy of the movies.
She needed to work out exactly what that looked like, but first the basics. She needed to persuade Martin to get dressed and help fix the bathroom door.
And that wasn’t going to be easy.
Merry Christmas, Jenny.