Chapter Seventeen
She made the girls and George, who had emerged from his nap red-cheeked and rumpled, her signature macaroni cheese; one of the few things she could cook, but it was good. They proceeded to cover it in ketchup, and she decided not to mind.
Just as they were finishing there was a knock on the door, and she opened it to find Marnie and her daughter standing there with a wheelbarrow wrapped in colourful fairy lights. It was lined with a red fleece blanket and filled with little gingerbread houses.
Amy and Lottie squeezed past Jen to see who was there, and as soon as they saw the contents of the wheelbarrow they began jumping up and down in excitement and talking over each other.
‘Ooh goodie, I knowed you were going to bring us the houses again, Marnie!’ Lottie said.
‘We made a really pretty and good one last time and Mummy wouldn’t let me eat any of the sweets, but epcept I think Auntie Jen will, won’t you, Auntie Jen?’
Amy turned her hopeful little face up to Jen, and Jen knew that she wouldn’t be able to resist that look. There was a good chance more sweets would be eaten this year.
Marnie laughed. ‘That’s the advantage of being the auntie, isn’t it?
’ she said, smiling. ‘Would you like to choose one each, girls?’ Lottie and Amy immediately peered into the wheelbarrow, pointing and debating as they made the very serious decision as to which house would be the best, as Marnie’s daughter bent down to help them choose.
Marnie looked at Jen. ‘Is it OK if Lottie gets hers now? Poor Michelle’s got a stinking cold, hasn’t she, I don’t want to disturb her. ’
Marnie and her daughter made their way to the next house, and Jen ushered the excited girls back in.
She immediately mixed some icing and raided the kitchen for chocolate buttons, hundreds and thousands and little sugar balls; the children were so excited, she knew they were keen to start decorating straight away.
A happy hour followed, as they blobbed icing onto the gingerbread houses in great quantities, so that it trickled down every surface, and proceeded to fill every gap with the sweets.
Their excited chatter filled the room. Jen pretended not to see when Lottie and Amy, their eyes bright with mischief, not-so-secretly popped sweets into their mouth, and when George, still in his highchair, spread icing all over his face and head.
His lack of hair was a distinct advantage here, she decided.
By the time Julia and Dan appeared in the kitchen, every surface was sticky, every child smeared with icing and chocolate, and the gingerbread houses were groaning under the weight of a plethora of sweet treats.
‘I’ll tidy it all up,’ Jen said quickly, as the adults glanced around at the devastation.
Julia, still looking pale but a little refreshed after her sleep, smiled. ‘You look like you’ve all had fun!’
‘Wow,’ Dan said, kissing Amy’s sticky cheek. ‘These look amazing, you’ve done a great job.’
Amy glowed, and not just from a sugar high.
‘Thanks,’ Julia said softly. ‘This was really nice of you. You’ll have to come to the café when she displays them all.’
Jen smiled and nodded, even though, as her phone buzzed in her pocket with what she very much hoped was a message from Anthony, she thought that she couldn’t imagine anything worse than all that forced Christmas cheer. With a bit of luck, she would no longer be in Babblebrook by then.
‘Right,’ Julia said, lifting a squirming George out of his highchair and laughing at the scattering of sugar balls that fell from him and onto the floor. ‘Bathtime.’
‘Come on, Lottie,’ Jen said. ‘I’ll take you home.’ The little girl was too busy working her tongue around her face in search of sugary treats to answer. Jen frowned. ‘Let’s give you a wipe first.’
The message had been from Anthony, and they spent the next few days talking.
Every so often he left her hanging, leaving a message of hers read but unanswered.
And Jen found herself, on those days, plunged into a storm of feelings – panic that he had lost interest in her, anger that he’d strung her along only to ignore her; hope that there was a logical reason for his silence and that she would hear from him again soon; humiliation that she was allowing herself to be shaken by it.
She drafted messages to him. Sometimes they were faux-casual – Hey, I’ve decided to re-read a Bronte, you a fan? Sometimes they were accusatory – Hey, just wondering if everything’s OK? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Sometimes bold – Hey. I really like you, let’s meet again.
None of them were ever sent.
She cursed herself for being so stupid as to let herself care again, let herself be vulnerable to the whim of another’s interest in her.
The sickening self-doubt was all too familiar, and something she’d sworn she would never allow herself to feel again.
She threw herself into playing with the children as a distraction.
The more she focused on Amy and George, and Lottie when she was visiting, and the more she thought of cute Christmassy activities to do with them, the less she cared about Anthony’s silence. She would go whole hours without even thinking of him.
Eventually, he would message, making no reference to his silence. She was so relieved to hear from him, she didn’t care.
He wasn’t obliged to message, she knew that. They weren’t together, they weren’t even dating. But she felt that there was something special between them, and he’d given her the impression that he felt the same way.
She kept busy to avoid constantly checking her phone, constantly thinking of him and replaying their conversations in her mind.
Because when he wasn’t responding, she felt the stirring of old feelings, feelings that she knew she needed to keep in check.
She couldn’t let herself get overwhelmed, as she had once before.
And when he asked her if she wanted to go to the art gallery in Waterfield with him, she tried to sound casual in her response. Even when he replied with It’s a date x.
She imagined herself walking through the gallery with Anthony, dazzling him with her wit and knowledge of the artworks that hung there, his gorgeous blue eyes filled with admiration.
The open mic was the night before, so perhaps she would have the chance to swot up on a bit of culture. Though she doubted it, somehow.
By the time the open mic night came around the roads were clearing and the trains were running again. Jen had been planning to return to her normal life soon after her date with Anthony.
That was before Julia started sneezing and coughing.
‘You’re not well,’ Jen said, watching as Julia tried to clean up the kitchen while wiping her streaming nose.
‘I’m fine,’ she croaked, as a coughing fit overtook her and she gave up, sinking into a chair. She lay her head on the table. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need an early night.’
Jen watched her sister as she lurched upright and began sneezing continuously into a woefully inadequate tissue.
She tried to remember all the reasons she was angry with Julia, but all she could see right now was the girl she’d grown up with, her confidante and partner in mischief, trying to struggle on when she should clearly be in bed.
‘You’re not fine,’ she said, gently taking her by the shoulders and easing her out of the chair. ‘You’re disgusting, frankly, and you should be away from all human contact for a day or two at least.’ She took in Julia’s pale, clammy complexion and red nose. ‘Probably longer.’
‘It’s fine,’ Julia said. ‘I need to look after the kids anyway, Dan’s away and . . .’
‘And the kids have their auntie here. So you don’t need to worry about that.’
Julia blinked. ‘But – but you’re going back to . . .’
‘I can stay a bit longer.’
They stood for a moment, each looking into the other’s brown eyes, Julia’s full of wary hope.
And even Jen couldn’t hold on to anger and distance, couldn’t cling on to the bitterness that kept her sister at arm’s length, when faced with the prospect of Julia ill and alone, trying to take care of her children.
‘I – thank you,’ Julia said. ‘If – I could always call Mum. If you need to get back.’
Jen sighed and began steering Julia towards the door. ‘Good God, what do you think I am, some kind of monster? Don’t be ridiculous. I can stay and look after the kids for a few days while you’re ill, it’s not a big deal. I’m their auntie!’
She felt the stiffness go out of Julia’s shoulders as she gave in, allowing herself to be propelled towards the stairs.
‘OK, well, thank you. That’s really kind.’
‘It’s the least I can do. You did put me up when I got stranded by the snow!’ She grinned. ‘OK, I’m going to check on the children. You all right if I go to this open mic? I promised Ted.’
Julia was nodding as she headed towards her bed. ‘Of course, yes. You have fun.’
Jen was dubious about the likelihood of that, but she didn’t like to mention it. ‘Message if you need me.’
Julia nodded, her eyes already closed.
Jen finished tidying the kitchen, then tiptoed to Amy and George’s bedroom.
They were sleeping, George on his belly with his bum in the air, Amy spreadeagled on her back, arms flung out and hair splayed over the pillow, in the glow of a nightlight that sprinkled a display of stars onto the wall. All was peaceful.
Quietly, Jen dragged a brush through her hair, arranging the cat pendant on top of her jumper, and grabbed her coat, contemplating her promise to Julia.
She’d really had no choice but to stay; she could hardly leave Julia to struggle on while she was ill and Dan was at the conference.
Even after all that had happened between them, she couldn’t be that hard-hearted to her own sister.