Chapter 12
CHRISSIE
Chrissie’s last day at the surgery before she finished up until after the New Year flew by.
It was as busy as usual. Carollers visited and brought along some Christmas joy, and there was another batch of mince pies to be shared around.
Chrissie had almost wanted to stay at work, to insist that she work right through Christmas and let everyone else go and be with their families.
She didn’t even have Sarah this year, and at forty-eight years old she felt like a little kid lost in a shopping centre, everyone rushing past and knowing where they were going, and her rooted to the spot, hoping that sooner or later someone would notice her.
She drove home. Fat raindrops fell and some of them seemed to be making an effort to turn into snow, but the tarmac on the roads was only wet. None of the houses had that magical coating that must be all over Winterbruck by now.
Winterbruck, the Alpine paradise Chrissie had avoided since losing Anthony.
She’d visited in the summer months instead, if only to avoid the reminder of the day the awful news came, the day her and Sarah’s world fell apart.
Since then, she’d found a certain comfort having the familiarity of Christmas in her own home, but already this year it would be different.
Once she’d warmed up inside and made a fuss of Tessa, she picked up her framed wedding picture.
She and Anthony had been so in love. She was only nineteen when he proposed and they’d got married having only known each other for seven months – seven months of seeing each other on and off depending on where he was stationed, and for how long.
She’d gone with him when he was posted somewhere new, ignoring the echoes of Meg’s claims that she’d be taking a backseat to someone else’s career.
Even if she was, she hadn’t ever minded.
Chrissie had managed transitions with an army parent reasonably easily, but Meg never did. Meg had hated the transient living arrangements, going to different areas, another country, changing schools, everything that had started to become familiar being taken away as they started all over again.
Moving to Switzerland permanently after their dad left the army when Chrissie was eleven and Meg was thirteen had brought the family together in a way, because it meant no more moving around.
Their dad was with them on a permanent basis.
And they had a home of their own. It had made Chrissie so unbelievably happy.
But it seemed for Meg the damage had been done.
In Meg’s head, the Swiss chalet wasn’t the family home.
They didn’t have one of those and never would.
And even though they’d had fun times in the Swiss Alps and had remained close, Meg never really settled there and had left for London eventually.
Meg had sent postcards and letters talking about how fabulous London was. Her sister was living in a big city, full of excitement, and in the summer after Chrissie turned eighteen, she’d gone to visit.
Chrissie knew her parents weren’t happy that Meg had put studying on hold, but Chrissie suspected Meg just needed a break before she started.
She had a job, she was paying her rent and had met other people.
She didn’t know why her parents were worrying so much that Meg was losing her way and risking a solid future – she’d heard them talking about it – although as soon as she got to London, she realised their parental intuition had been right.
Meg wasn’t anywhere near as together as her letters and postcards made out.
In fact, Chrissie was shocked at the change in her sister, her waywardness, the chaos in which she was living.
The day Chrissie arrived, someone called Siobhan had been lazing on the sofa smoking a joint, wearing a T-shirt and knickers and nothing else. She’d passed the joint Meg’s way and Meg had shaken her head, but Chrissie could tell she was only doing that for her benefit.
‘She’s nice,’ Meg had said as they went into her bedroom where she’d set up an airbed on the floor that she’d sleep on so Chrissie could take her bed.
‘How do you know these people?’ She’d seen another guy emerge from a room down the hall and turn into what might be the bathroom, given he’d had a towel thrown over his shoulder.
Meg lay on the bed and patted it so Chrissie could lie alongside her the way they’d often done, especially when they were missing their dad when he was working away. ‘I got a job at a café, got talking to Siobhan. There was a room going.’
‘What about your studies, Meg?’
‘I’ll do them, just not yet.’ She nudged Chrissie and Chrissie couldn’t help but smile. ‘Good to have you here. I have to work later on – can’t say no, have to pay my rent – but we’ll hang out, yeah?’
‘Can it just be us two when we do?’
‘Of course.’
They chatted until Meg’s tummy gurgled and they went into the kitchen to find something to eat.
Chrissie knew shared houses and flats could be messy, but this was a whole different level. There was mould on the windowsill, an overflowing dustbin-sized bin in the corner, smears of food across the benchtops, two full ashtrays and a smell she couldn’t and didn’t really want to identify.
Meg made them each a sandwich, and back in the lounge they sat on the sofa which had a similar stench to the rest of the place.
A bong sat on the coffee table in front of them, soiled crockery peppered the lower shelf of the table – possibly the source of the smell – and when Siobhan came in she slumped next to Meg, making the sofa shift so much Chrissie almost dropped her plate.
A guy with a cigarette hanging from between his lips came in and jerked his head to Siobhan. ‘Let’s go.’ The cigarette hung in there.
‘Tenner each.’ Siobhan put her hand out to Meg.
Meg fished in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out two five-pound notes which she gave to Siobhan.
Siobhan and the guy left, and Chrissie asked Meg what the money was for.
‘Bills.’
Yeah, right. Chrissie wasn’t stupid. And when the pair came back, Siobhan with the hollow eyes and the guy whose jeans hung so low it didn’t leave much to the imagination, her suspicions were confirmed – they didn’t bother to hide the weed they’d bought.
The biggest shock to Chrissie wasn’t the grotty flat, it wasn’t the fact her sister wanted some time out before she started her tertiary studies, it was the change in Meg.
Meg had messed around at school, she’d rebelled every time they moved around, but Chrissie had honestly thought coming to London would’ve been her sister’s chance at a future of her own making.
‘What about your dream?’ Chrissie had asked when they were on their own again.
‘I’m still pursuing that.’ Chrissie looked sceptical. ‘I am, but a job in a café is what I managed to get. The dream is still there. Don’t you worry, I’ll soon be making you more delicious chocolates.’
Chrissie’s nose scrunched. ‘Not in that kitchen.’
And Meg had laughed the way she always had.
With Meg working a few shifts while Chrissie was visiting, Chrissie didn’t want to be at the flat without her.
Siobhan was out most of the time and the other occupants either gave her the silent treatment or looked like they were after an argument.
It was best not to look at them, not to engage, and so when Meg wasn’t around, she took herself out and about to explore the sights.
She marvelled at London’s famous architecture, its grand buildings, the theatre district, the history and the atmosphere.
After several hours the crazy volume of traffic and people in a rush got a bit much, and not wanting to return to the flat, she stumbled into the cinema in Leicester Square.
A new film was out. She wasn’t entirely sure that Jumanji was her kind of movie, but it was starting to rain, and her feet were getting sore from all the walking.
A quiet sit in a movie theatre with an ice-cold can of fizzy drink and a bucket of popcorn sounded perfect.
She bought herself a ticket for the film as well as refreshments and made her way into the darkened theatre.
The lights were already down but she could just about make out the rows.
It was packed and she had to murmur her apologies for squeezing past people who had to stand up just as the trailers were getting into full swing.
She sat down and slotted her drink into the holder while she kept the popcorn in the crook of her arm.
The film eventually started and she was so engrossed by the plot that she didn’t realise a little hand was sneaking into the popcorn bucket along with hers until her fingers touched someone else’s.
‘I’m so sorry.’ A male voice came from the other side of the popcorn thief who couldn’t have been more than about four or five years old. ‘Luke, what are you doing, stealing this lady’s popcorn?’
Chrissie giggled. ‘Hey, it’s a huge bucket. I don’t think I can manage it all by myself.’
‘His hands are clean, if that helps,’ came the voice, quieter now as a person behind tutted.
For the rest of the movie they quietened down and it was only when they filed out of the theatre and the little boy, Luke, stayed close to her side that she turned to see that the man who was with him was strikingly handsome, with close-shaved hair in what she would call a buzz cut, a strong jaw, and deep brown eyes.
He was tall as well and obviously strong, given how easy it was for him to swing Luke up into his arms when the boy started to drag his feet and complain.
‘What do you say to the kind lady, Luke?’ the man said to the boy.
‘Thank you, kind lady.’
‘I’m Chrissie, and it’s quite all right.’
The man, who looked a bit too young to be a dad, kept Luke in his arms but outstretched a hand that dwarfed Chrissie’s. ‘I’m Anthony.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ The warmth from his hand lingered long after he’d taken it back. ‘How old is he?’ she asked when Luke buried a tired head against Anthony’s neck.
‘You’ve just turned four, haven’t you, mate?’