19
Dorothy
S he spent all day preparing, determined that the evening was going to be perfect.
They’d invited her to join them on the Christmas tree trip but she’d declined, partly because she already had three trees for the house and wanted to focus on the evening ahead, but also because she wanted to give Imogen and Sara time together.
She’d thought it would be good for them, and perhaps a little easier and less overwhelming for Imogen than dealing with all of them at once, but then she’d had moments during the day when she’d questioned that decision. Sara hadn’t asked for any of this, and it was only because of Dorothy that she’d been forced to confront it all again. How was she handling it?
The trip to choose a Christmas tree was one of Sara’s favorite days of the year. What if having Imogen there had spoiled that for her daughter?
She had to stop herself messaging Sara to check everything was all right and reminded herself that Patrick and Miles were both there, and the girls. It was hard for anything to be too awkward or serious when Ava and Iris were involved.
Maybe it would go well, but she was careful to keep her expectations in check. She knew she had a tendency to romanticize family life, even now after everything that had happened. It was one of the reasons she still blamed herself for much of what had happened. A part of her still believed that if she’d done things differently, the outcome might have been different. But would it? Maybe Sara was right. It was fanciful to think she had the ability to control everything that happened. At some point maybe a parent just had to accept that you could raise a child in a certain way, but in the end their choices were their own and you had no control over that.
Instead of blaming yourself, you should try acceptance.
Sara’s words had settled in her brain.
She’d spent so much time regretting what she’d said to Tina, the way she’d dealt with it, and blaming herself for all that had happened. And by taking the blame, she’d essentially excused Tina, which she knew Sara found frustrating.
Dorothy stared out of the kitchen window, watching as Benson ventured out of the barn to explore his snow-covered field.
Sara was right. It was Tina who had made the choices. The choice to leave Imogen, the choice to return and take Imogen with her, the choice to exclude her family from her life.
Perhaps acceptance was the right way to go, but how were you supposed to achieve that?
At some point maybe you just had to acknowledge that it was possible to love your child with every fiber of your being, but dislike their behavior and their choices.
Exhausted with worrying about it all, she wrapped up warm and went out to feed a few treats to Benson and the other alpacas. The fields were coated with white, snow crystals gleaming as they caught the sunlight. The beauty of it took her breath away, although it was hard to breathe at all in the bitter cold.
And really she shouldn’t be out here talking to Benson when there was so much to be done indoors. She should be focusing on the present, not the past.
Feeling a little better for the fresh air and five minutes with her animals, she returned to the house and busied herself in the kitchen.
An hour later she’d made a rich winter casserole, and delicious smells wafted through the kitchen.
As it was a special dinner, she laid the table in the dining room and took extra care over the presentation. Candles flickered on surfaces and the tree she’d chosen a few days before took pride of place in the curve of the window. She stored the decorations carefully from one year to the next and all of them were precious to her. Everything she hung on the tree came with a memory.
This was where she’d serve Christmas lunch, she decided.
When Phillip had been alive, they’d loved to entertain. Dorothy had brought together people from the village and they’d enjoyed noisy evenings full of laughter and conversation. After he’d died, the idea of doing the same things alone that they’d done together held no appeal for her. She still cooked and enjoyed it, but her gatherings were almost always informal and often impromptu.
But today they had a reason to celebrate.
As a concession to Ava and Iris, they’d eat early. She could hardly believe that Imogen would be joining them at the table.
She’d barely finished her preparations when she heard the sound of car engines, then voices and a shriek of laughter from Ava.
They crowded into the house, bringing cold air, smiles and snowy boots.
And noise. So much noise. It echoed through the house and filled Dorothy’s heart.
Sara and Imogen were laughing together, and Dorothy glanced at her daughter with relief but also a touch of curiosity.
Sara had so rigidly protected herself from the past that Dorothy had been worried she would hold herself back with Imogen, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
“Well, at least your tree fits in the living room,” she was saying to Imogen as they shrugged off coats and piled up scarves and gloves on the side. “The one the girls chose for us is too tall. Even I think that. Patrick is going to have to trim it.”
Ralph chose that moment to chase Bailey into the kitchen, and Miles tried to call him back.
“Ralph. Ralph! Sorry, Dorothy,” he muttered. “Why did I let myself get talked into this? Imogen? You need to call your dog.”
“My dog?” Imogen hung her scarf on top of Sara’s and turned to look at him, cheeks glowing. “Since when is he my dog?”
“Since you’re the only one he will listen to.”
Imogen pushed her hair back from her face. “Ralph! Come here.”
Ralph rocketed toward her and screeched to a halt at her feet, a dopey look on his face.
“Sit,” Imogen said, and Ralph sat, tail wagging.
“You see what I mean?” Miles shook his head in disbelief. “That’s it. You’re taking him back to London with you.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Imogen said, and Ava looked crestfallen.
“I don’t want Imogen to go back to London. I want her to stay here forever and ever and be my friend. Do you have a star for the top of your tree, Imogen?” She twirled on the spot, almost falling over Bailey, who wanted to be part of the fun.
“I don’t have a star.” Imogen reached out and steadied Ava before she could lose her balance.
“What about the other decorations?”
“I can help with that.” Sara produced a box tied with a big red bow and handed it to Imogen. “A little gift.”
“For me?” Imogen took it, bemused. “What is it?”
“You have to open it to see! I’ll help.” Ava reached for the ribbon, but Iris pulled her away.
“Be gentle! You have to let people open their own presents.”
“Let’s do it together.” Imogen crouched down in front of Ava. “You pull the ribbon and I’ll take off the paper.”
Ava pulled, and the ribbon slithered to the floor, followed by the packaging.
Inside the package was a box of silver decorations. Some were plain and some had a delicate snowflake motif.
“They’re gorgeous.” Imogen lifted one out of its packaging and looked up at Sara. “You bought these for me?”
“I assumed you didn’t have any, and you’re going to need them year after year, so—” Sara gave a self-conscious shrug “—this is the beginning of your collection.”
Imogen gazed at the box for a moment and then blinked and stood up. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And you’ll find it’s an advantage that Miles is tall because he’ll be able to reach the top of the tree.”
“I’m intrigued to see how much damage Ralph can do,” Miles said. “So far it seems he has a loose relationship with ‘sit’ and ‘stay.’”
“Come into the living room and warm up. I thought we’d eat early, but there’s time for a drink first. I made a batch of mince pies.” Dorothy ushered them all into the living room, and the children headed straight for the tree and the presents underneath.
Ava grabbed one and shook it.
“Stop it.” Iris took it from her. “You’re going to break it, and it might not even be for you.”
“It has my name on it.”
An hour passed in excited chaos, and when Dorothy excused herself to make some last-minute preparations in the kitchen, Sara followed.
“What can I do?”
“Mash the potatoes?” Dorothy drained them and put the pan down for Sara to finish them off. She was desperate to know how the day had gone, how Sara had felt about it and whether it had been awkward. But given that they could be disturbed at any moment, she kept her question simple. “How was your day?”
“It was magical. The snow helped, of course. I don’t think we’ve ever had snow before on our Christmas tree day. The forest was pretty. Imogen seemed to enjoy it. She found a great tree. Or rather, Ava found a great tree she insisted Imogen should have.” Sara mashed the potatoes, tipped them into a dish and slid them back into the oven to keep warm. Then she looked at her mother. “It was good. Better than I was expecting. Easier. How about you? You’ve been in the kitchen all day.”
“For some of it. And I did some thinking.”
“About?”
“Life.” Dorothy wiped her hands and turned to look at her daughter. “I’ve decided you’re right. I do take too much responsibility for Tina’s choices. And you’re also right that I make far too many excuses and allowances for her. I owe you an apology for that.”
Sara’s expression softened, and she reached out and touched her mother’s arm. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes, I do. The truth is Tina behaved badly and hurt an awful lot of people, including you and Imogen. I should have acknowledged that a long time ago. Accepted it as a fact, instead of always blaming myself.” Instead of feeling responsible, she felt sad. Family life might not always be easy, but it offered so much, and Tina had rejected that.
If Sara was surprised, she didn’t show it. “What caused this change of heart?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she told Imogen such terrible lies. That we didn’t want her.” It had played on her mind. “She chose to deprive Imogen of wider family.” And the only person responsible for that decision was Tina. “It’s a testament to Imogen’s maturity that she chose to believe what we told her.”
“Yes. She doesn’t shy away from the truth, however difficult.” Sara hesitated. “I owe you an apology too. I gave you a hard time over Imogen. I was scared that building a relationship with her was the wrong thing to do, but it wasn’t. You did the right thing, Mum.”
“I’m glad you think so. It could have gone the other way, of course, if Imogen was a different type of person. This could have been much more difficult.”
“I suspect she has had rather too much practice at handling the difficult.”
“Yes. Do you think Imogen will get in touch with Tina? Challenge her on it?” It was another thing that had been worrying her. That Tina might do something to damage the fragile shoots of this new relationship.
Sara’s expression was neutral. “I don’t know. But I think just as we have to accept Tina’s choices, we have to trust and accept Imogen’s. I don’t think she has any illusions about what Tina is like.”
Something about the way she said it made Dorothy think that she and Imogen had exchanged more than small talk on their trip to the forest.
But that was between them. It was important that Sara and Imogen forged their own relationship, and if that had already started to happen, then she couldn’t have been more delighted.
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“Hopefully, Imogen has the strength to make her own decisions and choices about what is right for her no matter what pressure, if any, Tina puts on her. I think she does.”
“Yes.” Dorothy lifted the casserole out of the oven. “At least now she knows the truth.”
Maybe as a parent you didn’t have anywhere near the influence you thought you had. You raised your children the way you believed to be best and taught them right from wrong, but after a certain age their decisions were their own. And sometimes all you could do was accept things the way they were, and not waste time wishing they were different.
Imogen was here now, about to have a meal with the family, because she’d made a choice. Her own choice.
And it sounded as if she had been making all her own choices for a long time.
“How did she get on with Miles?”
Sara raised an eyebrow. “You’re not interfering, are you?”
“Definitely not.”
“Good. Because as it happens, Ralph is all the matchmaker those two are going to need.”
“In that case I shall forgive Ralph for hiding my slippers the moment he came into the house.”
And at that moment, Imogen appeared in the doorway, Ava by her side.
“Do you need more helpers?”
Delighted that she wanted to join in, Dorothy took the plates out of the oven where they were warming. “You can tell everyone to wash hands and head to the dining room. We’re ready to eat.”
“It smells delicious.”
Ava reached for Imogen’s hand. “Nanna is the best cook.”
“I’ve heard that. I’m looking forward to dinner.”
“Christmas is the best,” Ava said. “You will be here on Christmas Day, won’t you, Imogen?”
There was a slightly awkward pause.
Sara glanced at Imogen and then at Dorothy.
She hadn’t planned to issue the invitation quite yet, but maybe it was better this way. Spontaneous.
“If Imogen would join us, then of course we’d all be thrilled.”
She held her breath. She wasn’t going to pressure her. She wasn’t going to coax or cajole. If Imogen felt uncomfortable with the idea, if she didn’t want to do this, then Dorothy would need to accept that. Imogen had listened to what they had to say, she’d spent time with Sara and her family and she was here now. No one would blame her if she felt that was enough to begin with. A full-on family Christmas so early in their relationship might be too much to ask of anyone.
She was going to allow Imogen to make whatever decision she felt was right for her.
“I’d love to spend Christmas with you,” Imogen said quietly, “if it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Dorothy said. “It would make our Christmas if you were to join us.”
“Great! I want to sit next to you.” Ava danced off to tell her sister the good news, and Imogen crossed the kitchen to Dorothy.
“Let me take those.” She relieved Dorothy of the plates. “And you must let me know what I can do to make Christmas Day easier. I’m no expert in the kitchen and I’ve never cooked a Christmas lunch before, but I can follow instructions. I want to help.”
“In that case, you can persuade my girls to eat brussels sprouts,” Sara said cheerfully, “preferably without the commentary on how much they hate them.”
Imogen grinned. “I can try.”
“You take the plates, Imogen, and I’ll bring the casserole.” Sara picked up the heavy cast-iron pot. “I’ll send Patrick in to help carry the rest.”
“I’m here.” Patrick appeared, the girls by his side, and soon everyone was helping out, carrying plates and food to the table.
There were plenty of compliments when they saw what Dorothy had done to the room, and Sara gave her a smile.
Dorothy returned the smile, understanding.
Yesterday when Imogen had discovered the truth and walked out so abruptly, neither of them had expected this outcome.
It was more than Dorothy had hoped for. More than Sara had hoped for too.
Imogen, it seemed, was happy to put the past behind her and embrace this new development in her life.
Dorothy settled herself at the table and gave herself permission to stop worrying and simply enjoy this moment with her family.
If Imogen could leave the past behind, then so could she. She could choose to move on and finally forgive herself for whatever part her actions had played in past events. She could accept that the responsibility for everything that had happened was not all hers.
And she could be grateful for what she had right now.