Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
‘She’s actually young, Leo,’ I hear the murmur of a female voice in heavy northern tones.
‘Well, I don’t know what you were expecting?’ That was Leo. I keep my eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep.
‘You said she were your boss so I thought she’d be old. I expected some old lass with a severe face. She’s got a nice face and she’s your age,’ the voice continues.
‘How’s the thumb?’ an older male voice interrupts. ‘Do we need to amputate it?’
‘Yeah, if so we’d need to do it tonight before we peel all the veg.’
I open my eyes at this point in case they think I’m out for the count and try to perform surgery on me in this front seat but nothing quite prepares me for what I see. It’s not just two extra people with Leo peering at me in this passenger seat but a whole crowd. Are they here for us? There are children here, an old lady with a walker, an uncle wearing a turkey hat. Behind them is a quaint grey stone house bedecked in Christmas lights, surrounded by crooked wooden fences with fields in the background, glowing from the snowfall, the slopes and valleys meeting the sky. If I thought Jasper’s homestead was in the country, this feels even more remote, the skies look infinitely clearer as the stars start to twinkle into view in the twilight. Through the windows, I can see a massive Christmas tree glittering.
I can’t quite breathe to take it all in – the beauty of it, but also how I’m being thrown into meeting all of Leo’s family immediately. I really hope I haven’t been drooling. I pull at my scarf, gently open the door and feel the gaze of family members swing to me. The icy air hits me directly in the face so their first impression of me is quite unattractive gurning.
‘Everyone, this is Maggie,’ Leo says, walking over to me, mouthing sorry to me at the same time.
I put a hand to the air to wave. ‘Hello, everyone.’
Granny with the walker laughs and I immediately like her but they all wave at me in turn, some of them almost too shocked to speak. Is it because I have bed hair? Maybe the infection on my thumb has travelled through my body and I’ve got some speckled beetroot complexion.
A woman to the front of the pack, a purple outdoor jacket wrapped around her shoulders moves towards me, her arms open. ‘Oh my days, MAGGIE! You are so welcome!’ I fall into her embrace. ‘I’m Leo’s mum, Sandra, but you can call me Sandy. How are you? Leo told me you’re not well. Are you well, my lovely?’ she spurts the words out incredibly quickly, her breath misting the air. Leo has her eyes, that’s for sure.
‘I’m OK. It’s lovely to meet you,’ I tell her from over her shoulder.
‘And I’m Claire, the sister. Leo said you were bitten by a fox?’ she asks me.
‘These are the dangers of the city, the foxes are far more vicious,’ Sandy says, shaking her head.
A man puts his hand to Sandy’s shoulder. ‘They’re ghetto foxes, it’s the gang culture. I’m Ray, the dad. A pleasure, Maggie. It’s lovely to have you here.’
‘How big was the fox? Was it bigger than you?’ asks a random child in pigtails.
‘I knew someone who had a pet fox once,’ another voice pipes up.
Leo’s eyes widen. You can tell they weren’t supposed to swarm outside here when his car rolled in but here they are. He’s lucky I find this welcoming committee quite endearing, the excitement in all their faces to have their Leo back, the intrigue over the girl he’s brought home. I like the earthiness of their accents, the fact Leo’s dad isn’t even wearing a coat but holding a tea towel, the way I can tell his sisters are joshing him a little when they think I’m not looking.
‘Well, get in and let me have a look at it,’ Claire instructs me, ‘And please, let’s interrogate the poor lass inside where it’s warmer and get Nana in before her hip goes.’
Some of the crowd disperse back into the warmth of the house while another sister hangs tight. ‘Gabby, the middle sister,’ she tells me, a look to let me know she’s checking me out.
‘Leave her be, Gabs,’ Leo warns her as he gets the bags out of the car, placing them onto the gravel.
‘I was being nice,’ she tells him. ‘I was not telling her stories of the time we dressed you in a bikini and took pictures.’
‘There are pictures?’ I ask her.
‘Albums of the things. You are going to find out so much,’ she says, narrowing her eyes at her brother while picking up a bag of gifts and skipping off to the house.
‘I am so incredibly sorry, Maggie,’ Leo says, resting his elbows against the top of the car. ‘I didn’t expect them to be so…’
‘Happy for you to be home?’
‘There is that.’
‘And this is where you grew up?’ I say, looking out into the fields, staring up at the snow resting on the gables of his house. It’s postcard pretty, perfectly serene, the sort of country cottage retreat one goes to so they escape from real life.
He nods. ‘I know it’s not like Jasper’s big mansion but it’s home.’ We look through the window to see everyone has their faces peeking through the curtains. ‘It’s assorted nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles.’
I wave again at all of them. ‘And do you not usually bring people home?’ I ask him.
‘Not really.’
‘Plus, only the sisters know that we’re kind of…you know…’
‘More than colleagues and kissing partners?’ I ask him playfully.
‘That’s a convoluted term for it, but yes,’ he smiles to see me laughing. ‘Look, let’s just see how the next two days go. Only my sisters know what happened between us. The rest of them think you’re a work colleague who had nowhere else to be. You can see what I’m all about, take in some Lakeland air and feast, be merry, get cosy by the fire. I’m just glad you’re here,’ he tells me. I look up at him, conscious we’re still being watched because otherwise I’d reach up and give him a peck on the cheek. We take a walk up to the house, and already I’m drawn into how homely and warm it is. On the tiled porch sit rows of wellies but as Leo pushes open the door, you’re hugged by the warmth of the fire in the living room, roaring away. Inside to the lounge, the TV shows The Sound of Music against the dancing patterns of the Christmas tree lights. I put my bags down, scanning the walls at family photos, on top of the peeling checked wallpaper, a house that is brimming with mementos, life, different conversations that fill the air with laughter. A young child runs past us, hugging Leo’s legs.
‘You’re here!’ she says, and I can’t help by being enamoured that this little person loves Leo so much.
‘Maggie, this is Cassie – my niece,’ he tells me. ‘Gabby’s daughter.’ I see the familiar blue eyes again and smile .
‘How you doing, Cassie?’ I ask her.
‘Can I be your flower girl if you two get married? Mummy said it’s a done deal but I just wanted to be sure.’
Leo’s head swings up and into the kitchen, glaring at a sister who stands in the doorway, her palms to the air. ‘You swine. Who else knows?’ he loud whispers at her.
‘You expected Gabby to keep a secret?’ she replies.
Leo looks down at Cassie’s eyes still beaming up at him. ‘We might not get married.’
I don’t know why those words see a lump forged in my throat. ‘I found out Maggie here has super hairy feet.’
This makes Cassie giggle uncontrollably and the sound is so adorable I’ll forgive the faux insult.
‘It’s true, I sometimes don’t need to wear socks because they’re that hairy,’ I tell her.
‘Get them out!’ she demands.
‘Oh, not now. It’ll confuse the cats,’ Leo tells her. ‘Has Nana put teas on?’
Little Cassie pulls a face. ‘Of course she has. You want to play Scrabble later with me?’
‘You going to cheat again and put back letters you don’t like?’ he asks her.
She doesn’t reply but runs off into the living room as we poke our heads around the kitchen door. It’s a brilliant hive of activity; the windows are steamed up, Christmas music plays out of a crackling radio on the counter, a central table is stacked high with unpeeled vegetables, boxes of stuffing and Christmas napkins.
Sandy sees me and takes a holly patterned cosy off the teapot.
‘How long’s that been stewing?’ Leo asks.
‘Literally minutes,’ she replies. ‘Have a seat. You too, Maggie. I’ve been making mince pies with the littl’uns, just warm out of t’oven. ’
Sandy sounds more northern than Leo – there’s a shorthand with her language; but I love the jolly redness in her cheeks, her perfect blonde bob. Her outdoor jacket is now off and reveals a lilac jumper with silver sequin stars. I take off my coat and Ray appears to take it away while I sit down and make myself comfortable. Sandy pushes a Santa mug in front of me and the smile is bright but in a way which makes me think she knows I’ve snogged her youngest son.
‘You really look quite flushed. Do you need to lie down?’ Sandy asks.
I shake my head. ‘I slept a fair bit and I think that’s helped, but thank you,’ I say sipping my tea. ‘That’s a lot of veg?’ I comment, my eyes fixed on the table.
‘Christmas dinner for seventeen, isn’t it?’
‘Seventeen?’ I say, my eyes popping open wide. ‘If I’d known I wouldn’t have imposed myself on you.’
She shakes her head, pouting her lips. ‘Don’t be daft. You are the most welcome. It’s four kids in them numbers who eat like mice. Then it’s you, Leo, me, Ray, Gabs, Claire and their partners, and then Gabby’s in-laws who we always have over, Ray’s brother and his wife and then my mum.’ I’m quite good at maths but I put my fingers out to keep count. ‘Leo, tell her it’s no trouble.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ he says, mimicking his mum, and she hits him playfully on the head before putting a plate of warm mince pies out in front of us. I do not have any trouble in picking one up and stuffing it in my mouth.
‘So this is why there’s a crowd,’ Sandy explains. ‘Christmas Eve is traditionally when we all gather round and help get things ready for the big day before we all come back here tomorrow.’
‘Well, please let me help,’ I volunteer. ‘My Christmases are not normally this busy. ’
‘Really?’ Sandy asks me, surprised. ‘What about your family? Tell us about yourself, love. Leo’s not said much.’
I sense everyone’s eyes upon me. I guess I better make this good. ‘Oh, I’m an only child. It’s just me and my mum and dad.’
‘Only the three of you?’ Leo asks, curiously. ‘What about extended family?’
I stop, realising I’ve never disclosed this much to Leo. ‘My mum was an only child too, her parents died when she was in her teens so she went into care and that’s where she met my dad.’
They all stop for a moment to take that in. It’s working class with a bit of a sad slant to it but my parents rose above, found each other and worked hard to prove people wrong. When I came along, I was a prized possession that they were determined to push through life. They gave me all the opportunities they never had; I wouldn’t be surprised if half the people on that cruise know my name. It’s probably why it’s sometimes hard to extricate myself from them because I want them to know constantly how much I love them. I see Leo’s head tilt to the side to take that in, no one quite knowing how to respond.
‘The biggest problem is that we’d have turkey for weeks after though,’ I say, trying to joke and break the tension.
Sandy comes over and puts her hands to my shoulders, her eyes expressing some misted emotion. ‘Well, my love…I am so happy you’re here. You can have my best peeler,’ she tells me.
‘Charming,’ Leo mutters. ‘And where are we sleeping?’
‘Well, Claire’s bunking in with Gabby. But we’ve got your uncle and aunt in and Nana in the big room so I hope you don’t mind but you’re in the study on the airbeds but they’re good airbeds,’ she reassures me. ‘Like proper camping ones. Ray’s moved the filing cabinet and I bought new duvets.’
‘Single airbeds, mind…’ Gabby adds. ‘Because, you know, you two are just mates,’ she jokes over the top of her mug, taking a sip. I see Leo put his middle finger up at her secretly.
‘Leo, less of that, young man…’ his mum scolds him and I can’t help but laugh.
Claire comes over and sits next to me, a paper bag in her hands. ‘Mum, fetch me a bowl of hot water, will you? Fresh out of kettle.’ She turns to me and gestures for me to put my hand on the table. ‘Right you, let’s get you fixed.’ She takes out all sorts of boxes from the bag including antiseptic, cotton wool, painkillers and for some reason, a giant marker. She puts a hand to my forehead. ‘You’re warm but not feverish. That’ll be your body trying to fight summat.’ She peels back the plaster and I feel everyone leaning forward to get close. They all wince to see it except Claire, and I look her in the eye. ‘This is nothing, love. Fella came in the pharmacy the other day and pulled down his trousers in the consultation room to show me something growing on his knob.’
‘Anyone we know?’ Sandy asks curiously.
‘Yeah, it were the old vicar at St Thomas’s…’ she says.
Sandy puts a hand to her mouth in shock. ‘Really?’
‘Of course not, Mother. Some young lad who’d dipped his wick into too many lasses and no, I’m not telling you his name, because that’s confidential.’
Sandy shakes her head while Leo and Gabby laugh. Claire washes it with hot water and antiseptic, dabbing away at it. ‘You’ve kept it clean but it’s looking a bit angry. Your shots up to date? Tetanus and that?’
I nod. ‘What about…rabies?’
She smiles. ‘Were the fox foreign?’
‘I didn’t ask him,’ I say, trying to laugh off my worry.
‘Last case of rabies in this country were in the seventies, and even then it was in a dog from overseas. I think you’re safe, but I’d follow up with blood tests if you get any weird symptoms. This you?’ she asks, holding up a box of antibiotics. The box has my name and address on it. She reads my quizzical expression. ‘Your “mate” here gave me the info. Three times a day before food please. This is a precaution in case there’s any deeper infection. I am going to draw a circle round it now to track it. If the redness goes beyond the circle,’ she says, taking the lid off the Sharpie, ‘then we might need to get you into A&E for some IV drugs.’
Leo puts a hand to his sister’s shoulder. ‘And there were me thinking you just counted out old ladies’ blood pressure meds,’ he jests.
‘I do that too.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I must pay you back for the prescription.’
‘Don’t be silly. Think of it as my Christmas gift to you. I got you the good painkillers too.’
I reach over to hug her, which takes her aback but that seems to be the running theme of these last few days where I’m overwhelmed by everyone’s kindness. ‘Now then,’ she says, her head still perched on my shoulder. ‘Time to get the photo albums out before we peel the veg. Gabs, get the ones when he had the mullet. Mum, get another set of brews on.’