Chapter 23 Jenny
Jenny
J enny was up early on Christmas Eve. Despite her reassuring conversation with Martin she’d barely slept, anxious thoughts racing through her mind.
Jamie (had he rushed into this marriage and was it going to crumble in time?).
Becky (was it real?). Rosie (what exactly was the problem between her and Declan?).
Martin (would he be able to adjust to retirement and what if he couldn’t?).
Why was it that worries seemed to grow and feel insurmountable in the depths of the night?
A problem that niggled at two in the afternoon could feel like the end of the world at two in the morning.
And why was it that she still worried about her children even though they were adults and had been making their own decisions for a long time?
Martin had reminded her that he shared the worry with her but that statement had provided little comfort in the dregs of the night when she was wide awake and worrying and he was fast asleep and clearly not worrying at all.
Then, at least, she’d held the weight of it and it had pressed on her until she was hardly able to breathe.
She’d almost kicked him awake and said it’s your turn to worry now, I’m done , but she wasn’t selfish enough to do that, and anyway she didn’t trust him to worry properly and give all the problems and potential problems his full attention.
And now it was Christmas Eve. This was usually her favourite day, when all the fun of Christmas still lay ahead. Normally they bundled up after breakfast and all went for a family walk on the beach, but after the chaos of the night before she wasn’t sure that would happen.
She checked the living room, grateful to Audrey, who had stayed to help her clear up after the rest of the guests had left. Thanks to her friend, and also to Hayley, the place was immaculate and ready for them to enjoy Christmas.
She walked into the kitchen and flicked on the lights.
Not just the main lights, but the fairy lights and the tiny glowing Christmas trees she’d bought, and the pinecone garland that she’d strung along the tops of the cupboards, and which Martin had already managed to pull off twice by opening the doors too violently.
He’d muttered there’s too much Christmas in this house as he’d untangled himself from fake greenery, but she didn’t agree with him.
The room looked cosy, and she stood for a moment and absorbed the warmth of it, feeling it lighten her mood.
Maybe at night she should wrap herself in fairy lights and switch them on whenever she had dark thoughts.
It made her think of the nightlight she’d bought Jamie when he was three years old and going through a phase of being afraid of the dark.
It had projected stars onto the ceiling and she’d lain on her back on the bed next to Jamie and together they’d watched the stars swirl above them and he’d forgotten about monsters and dark corners and menace and focused instead on the light.
That was what she needed to do.
Maybe she wouldn’t take everything down after Christmas. Maybe she’d leave a few lights to brighten the dark days of January.
She made herself a cup of coffee and drank it while gazing at the snow-covered garden.
The fresh fall of snow overnight had smoothed out footprints and provided the perfect winter backdrop, dazzling under bright sunshine and blue skies.
She knew it would be cold out there. The sort of cold that would numb faces and fingers within minutes.
The sort of cold that made you want to rush back to the house for hot chocolate or homemade soup.
A white Christmas. That was the one part of her planning for the perfect Christmas that she hadn’t been able to control, but for once the weather had delivered.
She heard footsteps and turned, the mug clasped in her hands.
“Hey, Mum.” Jamie wandered in, sleepy eyed, his hair damp from the shower and his feet bare.
He was a grown man and a respected doctor but sometimes she caught a glimpse of the teenager he’d once been and, weirdly, the toddler.
It was as if the whole of his life was stored in her head like a photo album for her to flick through.
Jamie, aged two, with ice cream on his face.
Aged six, covered in mud where he’d ridden his bike through a puddle.
Aged fifteen, with red eyes because he liked a girl who didn’t like him back.
And now. A man. Married.
“It’s freezing, Jamie. Don’t you own socks?”
“I couldn’t find any and didn’t want to wake Hayley. And it’s toasty warm in here.” He gave her a quick hug. “Brilliant party last night. Thanks for arranging that. You’re the best.”
“I enjoyed it. It was fun getting everyone together. I didn’t expect to see you this early.”
He shrugged and yawned. “I knew you’d be down here. Thought we could have a chat. Christmas has been a bit chaotic so far.”
Chaotic? That was one word for it. She had others in mind but she kept them to herself because she sensed he wanted to talk about something.
Unlike Becky, who never wanted to talk about anything, and Rosie, who wanted to talk about everything all the time, Jamie often liked to talk things through but did so at his own pace.
He picked his moment, and she was expected to recognize the moment.
And now she was glad she’d chosen to come downstairs early. “Coffee?”
“Yes, but I’ll make it. You’ve worked hard enough.” He grabbed a mug and made himself a coffee while she watched and waited.
“Hayley seemed to be enjoying herself last night.”
“Yeah.” He wiped up the mess he’d made. “She finally relaxed a bit. She’s been trying so hard to do and say the right thing. It’s a relief to finally see her being more herself.”
Jenny felt a pang of sympathy for Hayley. “It must be difficult being parachuted into someone’s big, noisy family. Particularly if you’re not used to it.”
“Yes. I underestimated how stressful it would be. And I made the whole thing worse.”
“In what way?”
“Because I should have told you before, instead of making a dramatic announcement. I feel bad.” He sent her a sheepish look and put his coffee down on the side. “I’m glad to catch you on your own because I wanted to say sorry.”
“To me? For what?”
“For not telling you we were married. I thought it was best, but I can see now it was the wrong decision. And Hayley really wanted to tell you, so don’t blame her. I was the one who wanted to wait until we were face-to-face. And that made it hurtful for you and even more stressful for her.”
He’d always owned his actions. At eight years old when he’d broken one of her vases while throwing a ball to his sisters in the living room, he’d never tried to pass the blame.
“I’m not blaming Hayley. I’m not blaming anyone.”
“But I hurt your feelings. Will you forgive me?”
She looked at him and her chest ached. Didn’t he know that when it was your child, you’d forgive anything? Every transgression. Every thoughtless act.
She put her coffee down, wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug, as she had when he was six years old. “There’s nothing to forgive. You did what you felt was right and I understand. Don’t think about it again.”
“I love her, Mum.”
There was a pressure in her throat and she held him close. “I know you do. I can see that. And she loves you right back. And I’m glad.” And she was glad. She cleared her throat and stepped back, retrieving her coffee from the side.
“I wasn’t expecting it to happen. Wasn’t expecting to meet anyone. To fall in love. I’ve been careful since—” He broke off and she nodded.
“I know. I was worried you might be a little too careful and miss out.”
He took his coffee to the table and sat down, legs outstretched. “She’s brave. Every single person in her life has let her down, but for some reason she has chosen to trust me.”
“She’s obviously a good judge of character.”
And a lucky woman.
Did every mother think that? Yes, probably, but in this case she knew it to be true.
He rubbed his finger over a dent in the table.
She thought of all the times she’d seen him sitting in that exact spot. As a toddler, chomping on fingers of toast. As a teenager, doing his homework. A medical student, studying for his finals.
That table had witnessed all the different stages of their family life.
She felt a wave of nostalgia but pushed it away.
Instead of feeling sad for the years that had passed, you had to be excited for the years that hopefully lay ahead. You had to keep moving forward.
She pushed aside the emotion and kept the conversation factual. “Will you stay in Edinburgh?”
“Yes. I’ve turned our spare bedroom into a studio/office for her so she can work from there.”
“She won’t mind being in one place?”
“No. It’s what she wants. Her choice.” He smiled and finished his coffee. “We’ll stay in my apartment for now and then maybe move to something bigger at some point. We’d love a garden. We both want a dog, and that should work as Hayley will be able to work from home.”
She imagined the two of them planning together, whispering into the night as they plotted out their future and she remembered that she and Martin had done the same when they were first married.
They’d expected life to accommodate their plans, and for the most part they’d been lucky.
By the time she was Jamie’s age she’d already had three children.
She’d looked at her parents and been unable to imagine ever being that age, and now here she was—close to the age they’d been back then.
Was it strange that on the inside she felt no more than her thirtysomething self?
She’d aged on the outside, but not on the inside.
Occasionally she felt a twinge of anxiety about growing older and the challenges that might bring, but then she remembered all the patients she’d cared for whose lives had been cut short, people whose life plans had been dented or decimated, and it reminded her to feel grateful that she was still here.