Chapter 14 Jenny #2
“Mum’s right,” Rosie said. “You’ll soon get used to the fact that we celebrate at every possible opportunity.
It’s Dad’s fault. He used to say to us ‘you have to celebrate each moment because you never know what tomorrow will bring.’ And then he’d get called out to see a patient and wouldn’t be there for the moment we were celebrating. But we carried on without him anyway.”
That was the story of her life, Jenny thought, glancing through the window to the garden. She’d become used to carrying on without him, but she’d thought that once he retired that would change.
Apparently not.
She frowned through the window. She’d assumed he was outside with Jamie, but there was no sign of him.
Where was he?
Hayley was still in conversation with Rosie. “Jamie says the same thing. He says all we can be sure of is this moment, so we should make the most of it.”
“He gets it from his father and also from his grandfather,” Phyllis said. “Brian was the same. It comes from being a doctor, I think. Being faced with all the different ways in which life can throw you a curve through no fault of your own. It teaches you to live in the moment.”
Jenny turned away from the window. “I suppose it’s not a bad way to live, although I did point out to the children that one does have to plan for the future too, just in case this particular moment doesn’t turn out to be your last.”
Hayley laughed. “It certainly does seem like justification for extravagance. Jamie is better at it than I am. He’s more relaxed.
More impulsive, I suppose. I’m trying to be a bit more like him.
Not to be so careful all the time.” She sounded a little wistful, as if maybe it was a fault in her to be more cautious about life.
“Jamie always had a safety net,” Jenny said quietly. “Which would have made it easier to take risks.” She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to grow up without a web of family ready to catch you when you fell.
Hayley looked at her and something passed between them. An understanding.
Jenny glanced at her mother and felt a rush of gratitude.
Here they were, three generations together, preparing for a family celebration.
She remembered being ten years old, preparing for Christmas with her mother, her aunt and her grandmother.
Did she take it for granted? Yes, she did sometimes. Despite her own experiences as a nurse, she took her family for granted. And it was a privilege to be able to do that. To not have to think about it or doubt it. They were just there.
The timer beeped and Jenny gestured to Hayley. “Come and check your handiwork, Hayley. Let’s see if they’re cooked.”
She opened the oven and peered inside. She’d made them so many times she knew they’d be cooked but she said nothing as Hayley crouched down and studied them.
“How can you tell?”
“They’re a lovely pale brown. Perfect. We don’t want to overcook them or they’ll be hard.” She handed Hayley oven gloves. “Pull the trays out and we’ll put them to cool. Then we can leave them plain or ice them.”
While Hayley was tending to her baking, Jenny slid the quiches into the oven and set the timer again.
She washed her hands. “What are Declan’s family doing this Christmas, Rosie? Do they mind him not being there?”
“No. Christmas isn’t that big a deal to him—I mean to them. So he was okay about coming here with me. More than okay, obviously.” She tripped over her words. “He was excited. Is excited. It’s going to be great. Especially as Dad won’t be running off to heal the sick.”
Jenny saw her mother glance at Rosie with a faint frown.
There was no doubt that Rosie wasn’t quite herself. It wasn’t what she was saying as much as the way she was saying it. With slightly too much energy, as if she was making a supreme effort to be jolly and convince everyone she was fine.
She hoped her mother wasn’t about to ask a tactless question, but fortunately Phyllis turned her attention back to the mince pies.
But now Jenny was worrying about Rosie again. She’d thought last night that something wasn’t quite right, and although Martin had dismissed her concerns she still felt that. She made a mental note to find a way of getting Rosie on her own later.
In the meantime she kept her own response warm and neutral. “Well, we’re very happy you were all able to come home.”
Rosie glanced at the door. “Talking of Dad, where is he? Normally he’s trying to persuade us all to play Scrabble or go for a family walk. I haven’t seen him since breakfast, and that was only briefly. And he wasn’t around when Jamie and I took Percy out this morning.”
Jenny wiped the kitchen table. “I think he’s outside helping Jamie and Declan.”
She hoped being vague might work, but Rosie squinted through the windows.
“I don’t see him. Jamie is out there with Declan stringing up lights, but no sign of Dad.”
Jenny met her mother’s gaze briefly and knew she had to do something about it before it became a focus.
“I’m sure he’s somewhere around. I’m just going to remind Jamie to cut some more holly for me.
” She removed her apron. Where was Martin?
And was he expecting her to cover for him?
Was the whole of Christmas going to be this way?
“Rosie, perhaps you and Hayley could carry the glasses through to the living room ready for tonight.”
She headed for the back door, grabbed her coat, pushed her feet into her boots and joined her son outside.
Jamie was laughing at something Declan had said and Jenny was pleased to see the easy comradeship between them.
It was freezing and she slid her hands into her pockets.
“That’s looking good.”
“I cut the holly you wanted.” Jamie was balanced on top of the ladder, trying to string the last length of lights around the tree. “It’s by the back door in a bucket of water. It jabbed me a million times when I was trying to cut it, and Declan is actually bleeding. Worse than owning a cat.”
“I should have given you gloves. But thank you.”
“And while I’m up this apple tree, I cut some mistletoe. For the party. In case anyone wants an excuse to kiss.” He gestured to a bunch of it on the ground. “And on that topic, can you ask Granny to stop asking people if they’re pregnant?”
“You say that as if I have some control over her, which you know I don’t.
Anyway, it’s a bit late. She has already asked Hayley and Rosie.
There’s only Becky left, and as she’s single I’m hoping she’ll escape.
Have you seen your dad?” She kept her smile bright and the question casual.
She didn’t want the children knowing something was wrong.
“Not since breakfast.” Jamie reached and secured the final loop of lights then descended the ladder with an alarming lack of care. “I assumed you had him on kitchen duty.”
“No. He’s probably helping Grandad with his book. Don’t fall, will you?”
“Obviously falling isn’t my intention.” Jamie helped Declan move the ladder. “Is this the book that doesn’t exist?”
“It exists in your grandfather’s head.” But it wasn’t her father’s book, or lack of it, that was worrying her right now. She needed to find Martin. “I need to get back inside. Thanks, both of you.”
“Is Hayley okay? Granny isn’t interrogating her, is she? I don’t want her to be overwhelmed and she is far too polite to tell her to mind her own business.”
“She’s been helping us cook,” Jenny said. “She has been a great help.”
“Good. She’ll like that. We just need to check these lights work and then I’ll come back in and help her.” Jamie stood back to survey their handiwork. “Any news from Becky and Will?”
“Not since that message first thing saying that they expected to be here early afternoon.”
And she was looking forward to Becky’s arrival. Becky would at least be able to work out what was wrong with her sister and hopefully fix it. That would be one less thing for Jenny to worry about.
“Where is Dad?” Jamie glanced at the house. “I really want to talk to him about work before they arrive and it gets busy. I need his advice.”
“About what?”
“Job. I have to do some work with the primary care team next year.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Dad when I’m finished here.”
Only if Martin deigned to make an appearance.
Jamie slapped Declan on the shoulder. “We’ve earned ourselves a drink. What’s for lunch, Mum?”
“There’s soup on the stove, a fresh loaf and stack of sandwiches in the fridge, courtesy of your grandmother, who has been buttering bread all morning.
Help yourselves.” She refrained from pointing out it wasn’t that long since breakfast. It was always the same at Christmas and if she was honest, she enjoyed it.
Not only because it felt delightfully normal and like the old days when she could never keep her fridge full, but also because it made her feel needed.
She went back indoors and hunted for her father. She found him in Martin’s study, listening to music through headphones. There was no sign of Martin.
He pulled off the headphones when he saw her. “Palestrina motets. Always puts me in a festive mood. Remember that concert we went to in Durham Cathedral?”
She felt a rush of love for him. “I do. It was wonderful, although I seem to remember having freezing hands. Have you seen Martin? I thought you might be working on the book.”
“No, but don’t tell your mother that or I’ll never hear the last of it.” He shook his head. “Martin said he had to do some jobs this morning, but suggested we take an afternoon walk and discuss some ideas then.”
“Right.”
“Are you still worrying about him?” He reached out and gave her arm an awkward pat, and she felt a ridiculous urge to put her head on his shoulder and let him solve her problems as she had when she was little.
She was sixty and today she wanted to be a child again, letting older and wiser heads fix the things that needed fixing.
“I’m too busy with Christmas and tonight’s party to worry about Martin,” she lied. “I’m sure he’s fine.”