Chapter 33
MARY
I did my best to focus on the positive, getting my house in order, having a long bath before distracting myself with two Hallmark Christmas movies back-to-back (in neither of which did the handsome love interest message the main character to say kissing her was a rash mistake) and dragging my sleep-deprived bones up to bed.
When I woke up on Tuesday morning, however, the space in my heart and mind where Beckett should have been felt crammed with jagged rocks.
I was so grateful for all the lovely messages and photos I’d had from people at New Life, thanking me for the costumes.
I was also cheered up by watching the coffee mums WhatsApp group descend into frazzled hilarity as the women dealt with prissy relatives, a little boy who’d discovered the present stash and decided Christmas had come early, plus a dog who’d snarfed a tray of pigs in blankets.
Rosie
I honestly think I might slip some of that super-strong bleach into Nadia’s low-cal mimosa.
Rosie’s sister-in-law had announced she was giving Rosie’s bathroom a ‘quick once-over’, producing her own cleaning products and spending nearly an hour scrubbing before informing her eight- and ten-year-old girls that they could now ‘pee-pee’ without worrying about ‘boy tinkles all over the place’.
Rina
How did we end up here? Christmas is supposed to be time off for fun and festivities. Joy to the world and peace to all men!
Rosie
That’s it. To all MEN. For us women, it’s usually more work, more stress, more demands on us to attain the impossible Insta-Mum heights of perfection as we collapse under the pressure to make sure everyone has the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.
Sofia
Preach it, sister. Add to that, any time we do anything that goes well, we’re expected to reproduce it faultlessly, endlessly, every Christmas until the end of time.
The list of ‘family traditions’ in our house has become a monster threatening to consume the last crumbs of my sanity.
If I’m not buried alive in Amazon orders, vegetable peelings and board-game tantrums first.
Li
You should try sharing the tasks out more! Angus always wraps presents while I write the tags and we have a great time cooking together
Rosie
We love you, Li, but we’re not coming to your party, which no doubt Angus will have co-organised and prepared in a perfect fifty-fifty split with you, if you don’t stop showing off.
Rosie added a kissing emoji as if that took the snark out of her comment.
Rina
What say you, Mary? Is Christmas a patriarchy-driven scourge on women?
Mary
Maybe it’s up to us to draw the line? My mum has never cooked a Christmas dinner in her life. We had one present each, a few paper chains made from old Socialist Lawyer magazines, and the closest we got to celebrating as a family was someone asking for a hand with a crossword clue.
Personally, I’m looking forward to me and Bob creating some Christmas memories to treasure.
I want him to look back and remember that we both enjoyed a magical time together.
I guess it’ll take a while to figure out what that looks like for us.
Do what brings happiness, to you as much as everyone else.
If that’s a five-course banquet, hand-printed wrapping paper and carols around the piano, go for it.
If it’s a takeaway pizza in non-Christmas pjs and a bunch of gift vouchers, then all power to you.
Li
If ever we doubted Mary was a true coffee mum…
Sofia
Even if I am now craving a large pepperoni.
What are you having for Christmas dinner, Mary? I hope Beckett is doing his share!
And there it was, jabbing at me like a reindeer headbutting my chest. I was so sick and tired of missing people.
Leo and my friends had been too much – raw, painful, paralysing.
This time, I felt as though every vital organ had been bruised and battered.
Whenever I thought about Beckett – which, let’s be honest, was at least once a minute; his kindness and generosity were scattered in every corner of my home – it made me sad, of course, but, more than that, ‘taking a bit of time apart’ simply felt wrong.
I typed out a dozen messages, ranging from jokey:
Mary
Is this enough time apart? Because I spent ages choosing your Christmas present and can’t be bothered to return it
To heartfelt and rambling:
Mary
Can we talk? Because I don’t think the kiss was rash, or a mistake. I miss you, Beckett. If you can’t be more than friends, I understand, and I will never cross that line again, but it would really help if you could explain why, because I’m miserable without you.
I deleted every single one.
* * *
Li’s gathering started at three, so I arrived at half past, hoping it would be busy enough for me and Bob to blend into the crowd.
Her home had been transformed yet again.
I’d have predicted tasteful decorations in silver or gold, but instead every room was now a multichromatic riot.
Coloured lights hung around the edge of the ceilings, paper baubles the size of footballs dangled above our heads in a random mix of red, orange, teal and sunshine yellow.
Sofas and chairs were covered in spotty, stripy or swirly blankets while wreaths, stockings and various other shimmering, glittery or light-up ornaments hung on every bare patch of wall.
Every surface was laden with canapés and miniature festive treats.
Tiny Christmas puddings, smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels that could be eaten in one mouthful, cocktail sausages, Brie and cranberries on postage-stamp squares of toast. Li was wearing a dress covered in rainbow sequins with silver tights, and I felt positively dull in my dark red jumpsuit, even with a gold belt.
Glancing around the room, I had to smile as I compared it to the Christmas Eve bonfire party, which was amateur chaos in comparison. Nevertheless, the sudden pang for a bowl of lamb curry, a sparkler and people who’d known me forever made my breath catch in my chest.
And then, a deeper longing. I’d guessed that Beckett wouldn’t be there, given that he’d know I would be. I still couldn’t help scanning the clusters of people, in case he’d decided he could handle being in a crowded room with me, after all.
The room felt somehow empty without him.
I felt like a clumsy, miserable stranger.
The effort of walking up to people and inserting myself into their conversation demanded energy and confidence I simply didn’t possess right then.
I decided instead to find a seat in a corner, preferably next to a person I’d never met before, so if they insisted on chatting I could keep it to vague trivialities.
I should have known better. After Sofia immediately came and asked for a cuddle with Bob, I spent the next hour or so nodding uncomfortably and saying awkward thank yous as at least half of the party guests came to congratulate me on the carol-concert costumes, wonder where I’d learned to sew like that, or suggest I set up a business.
‘I have,’ I said, eventually running out of polite responses.
‘You have?’ Sofia asked, breaking off her chat with someone else to spin around and stare at me. Bob was now fast asleep on someone else. ‘What business? You said you’d helped out friends on a market stall.’
‘I did. But then those friends happened to be fashion wizards who were hugely successful, and we set up a company together.’
‘Which company?’ Rina asked, eyes wide.
I glanced at the ShayKi changing bag she’d been showing off at the coffee morning a while ago, now sitting beside a recliner.
‘ShayKi!’ Rosie gasped, because at this point half the room was listening in.
‘My friends are Shay and Kieran.’
‘No wa-a-a-ay!’ There was a sudden flurry of movement as people shamelessly whipped out their phones and started searching.
‘Mary Whittington?’ someone breathed.
‘Does Beckett know?’ Sofia asked quietly.
I shook my head. ‘I was going to tell him, but then…’
‘Yeah, he’s got other things on his mind right now. Have you been to see Marvin today? Moses popped in this morning, but Marvin was asleep most of the time so he ended up taking Beckett to get some food. Are visiting hours the same over Christmas?’
‘Visiting hours? Where?’
She looked confused. ‘Isn’t he still in King’s Mill?’
‘The hospital?’
Sofia stared at me. ‘Have you not spoken to Beckett?’
I shook my head, the dread rippling over my skin standing my hairs on end.
‘Marvin wandered off in the early hours of Saturday morning. Moses and a few others helped Beckett find him. He’d fallen and knocked himself out, has a nasty broken ankle and other bumps and scrapes.
After briefly coming round, he’d managed to clamber onto a bench, which helped avoid hypothermia, at least. Mary, why didn’t you know this? ’
‘He phoned me, about four-thirty in the morning, and again later on but I’d left my phone in the bottom of my bag so I missed the calls.’
My synapses had shot into overdrive, propelled by the need to do something, to get to Gramps, to see Beckett, to crank back time and answer those damn calls. To ignore his stupid request for time apart and tell him that of course it wasn’t a mistake. We loved each other.
I love him.
Beckett didn’t have nobody else to help him any longer. He had Moses and Sofia, and whoever had joined in the search for Gramps. But I was more than that. I’d never met anyone who I fitted alongside so well as Beckett.
‘Mary, what’s happened? It’s been three days. Why hasn’t Beckett told you this?’
‘I… I have to go.’ I frantically looked about for Bob, grabbing his changing bag. ‘Can you explain to Li that I need to see Gramps?’