Chapter 16 #2
‘Oh. Whoops.’ While on the one hand life before Bob felt lost to the mists of time, I couldn’t believe it had been that long.
I used to co-run a business employing a whole load of people.
I thrived on deadlines and appointments, targets and Getting It Done.
I couldn’t even blame this on the sleep deprivation, or the utter disruption a baby had brought.
My capacity to manage myself had been left behind in Sheffield.
I was a mother now, though. I had to get it together for my son’s sake.
I found a list of local register offices on the Nottinghamshire County Council website.
‘This one isn’t far from a fabric place I wanted to look at. Would you be up for combining the two, if I came and sat with Gramps for you afterwards? You could get in some taxiing, or take a break.’
Beckett checked the address. ‘If you can book an appointment for Thursday lunchtime, we could go when Gramps is at the lunch club. It’s only a ten-minute drive away.’
I scanned the slots. ‘Twelve-fifteen?’
‘Perfect.’
* * *
I waited until I got home before looking up how to register a birth when the father was no longer around.
It turned out that in Bob’s situation, it wasn’t an issue, so I dug out the relevant paperwork and then allowed myself a long cry on the sofa, followed by a shorter cry in the bath, then another one in bed.
Once Bob woke up, I decided that was enough for one day.
My new rule – only one of us were allowed to cry at any one time.
I didn’t know if all these sadness chemicals would end up in my breastmilk, but Bob would surely be disturbed by some of the noises I’d been making.
* * *
Monday morning, I went back to Sofia’s to meet the coffee mums.
Since the week before, the house had been transformed.
A wreath constructed from mistletoe and pine cones hung on the door, and, inside, the hallway ceiling was covered in brightly coloured paper chains that Sofia told me the kids had made out of old wrapping paper.
More wound around the banister, and there were candles, lights and glittery ornaments decorating every surface.
The family room was equally festive, with more candles and greenery filling the mantlepiece, silver stars dangling above our heads, and a real Christmas tree that seemed way out of proportion given the size of the room.
‘This is what happens when you entrust my husband and kids with buying a tree,’ Sofia said, rolling her eyes.
‘I’ve had to move the bookcase into the dining room to fit it in, and it’s still sticking in front of the TV, so I’ve got a month of arguments about who gets to sit where so they can see the whole screen. ’
We drank from Christmas mugs and ate stollen and mini chocolate yule logs, Fair Isle-style throws over our knees.
The scent was heavenly, and the atmosphere so cosy I had to chip in to the conversation to avoid falling asleep.
Then they started discussing Christmas in earnest, and the inevitable questions followed.
‘What are your plans for Christmas, Mary?’ Li asked, either failing to notice or deliberately ignoring how I was trying to shrivel under my snowflake blanket.
‘I’m not sure yet. Bob wasn’t due until November, so I was going to wait until after that to start thinking about it, but now I can barely focus on tomorrow, let alone a few weeks away.’
‘You won’t be seeing family?’ Rosie asked.
‘You don’t have to talk about that,’ Sofia added quickly, giving Rosie a fierce glare.
‘No, it’s fine,’ I said, because this was one thing I could talk about. ‘My parents are working in the States at the moment. My brother will probably go and join them, but obviously that’s too much of a trek for me this year.’
‘They won’t come to spend Christmas with their new grandson?’ Rina said, pretending not to hear Sofia’s tuts.
I took a deep breath.
‘To be honest, I’d prefer it if they didn’t.
I haven’t spent Christmas with them in years, and I don’t think this one is the time to start.
’ I paused, glancing at the expectant faces and finding nothing but kindness there.
‘They aren’t terrible people; we just don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.
They’re rubbish at pretending not to disapprove of my choices, and I can’t be done with all their thinly veiled digs about what coffee I buy or why I haven’t done something more worthwhile with my life.
Especially at Christmas. I usually spend it with my best friends and their family, instead. ’
‘No judgement here, babe,’ Rosie said with a sympathetic grimace. ‘If I had the choice not to spend Christmas with my brother and his stroppy, stuck-up wife, I’d jump at it. Family ain’t always all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘I’d invite you here,’ Sofia said, ‘but I’ll be at my sister’s with the rest of my giant, bonkers clan and no one could survive a Donovan Christmas without years of slow acclimatisation to the chaos.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I said, doing my best to smile. ‘Like I said, I’m always with my friends. If I decide to stop at home and have a quiet day just me and Bob, it’ll be because I’ve chosen to.’
‘I wonder what Beckett and Marvin will be doing?’ Rina asked, so ridiculously innocently that Li threw a cushion at her.
‘Time to change the subject,’ Sofia said, in a tone that brooked no arguments. ‘Are we doing secret Santa this year, or not?’
* * *
I left not long after that, having picked Li in the secret Santa, which was potentially not the best, considering that she clearly had expensive taste, so it would be tricky finding something she’d like for ten pounds, but on the other hand, I was sure she’d be kind about it.
I could imagine Rosie dissing my present in front of everyone before she’d figured out it was from the new girl, who was now dying inside at having got her something rubbish.
All the way home on the bus, another meal – this time from Rina – in my bag, I couldn’t stop thinking about my family.
What I’d told the others was true, but it was by no means the whole truth.
If my parents knew what I’d been through in the past year, where I was now – that I’d lost everything, yet in the process had gained a son, who was now more than everything – would it be another opportunity to lecture me about how if I’d grown out of my stubborn teenage rebellion, like most people, none of it would have happened?
Or would they get on the next available flight? Offer me the same degree of non-judgemental compassion that they’d been handing out to struggling strangers for decades? No recrimination, only love.
I didn’t know whether I wanted them to.
I wasn’t sure I could bear to find out.