A Merry Little Christmas. Julia Williams
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on, you’re the campaign queen. Look at this place – it wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your help.’
Pippa looked around at the busy shop, bursting with produce from local farms – hers included – and the café, packed as it was with a combination of local mums and the occasional brave winter walker. It was true that without Pippa, the campaign to help save Vera’s livelihood wouldn’t have happened. But that had been four years ago, and there had been a lot of water under the bridge since then.
‘I know,’ said Pippa. ‘But I’m so tired. I’ve been fighting and fighting for every scrap of help I can ever since Lucy’s been born. I’m not sure I have the energy to fight anymore.’
‘Well, let us help you, then,’ said Marianne. ‘Come on, you can’t give up on Lucy now.’
‘Your friend’s right,’ a leather-clad man sitting at the next table suddenly butted in. He was good looking, with dark tousled hair and deep blue eyes, and a captivating voice. Pippa thought she spotted tattoos on his knuckles; not the usual sort you got in Hope Christmas. ‘You owe it to your daughter to keep on fighting.’
‘And what do you know about it?’ Pippa bristled. How dare this stranger tell her what to do?
‘More than you’d think,’ said the stranger, touching his nose and giving her a wink. He got up to go. ‘I’d say nothing’s impossible till you’ve tried it.’
And with that, he was gone.
‘Well of all the–’ said Pippa in disbelief. ‘What business was it of his, the cheeky sod?’
‘Maybe,’ said Marianne, ‘but he did have a point.’
‘I suppose,’ said Pippa gruffly.
‘And did you see how good looking he was?’ grinned Marianne. ‘Ladies of Hope Christmas, beware! Trouble’s coming!’
Pippa laughed. For some reason, she suddenly felt better, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders for a while.
‘Okay, then,’ she said, ‘what do you think my plan of action should be?’
‘We’re off for a stroll up the hill,’ said Gabriel brightly, to Steven who was crouched over his Nintendo DS. ‘Care to join us?’
‘Do I have to?’ whined Steven. ‘It’s cold out there.’
‘It will be refreshing and good for you,’ said Gabriel. ‘We should make the most of the moment. We haven’t had many opportunities to get out recently.’
‘Come on, Steven,’ said Marianne. ‘It’s been ages since all of us have done anything together.’
‘We can’t do anything with babies,’ grumbled Steven, but Marianne sensed he was weakening. Steven loved his baby siblings, and it was rare for him to moan about them. ‘They don’t do anything.’
‘So, we need you to keep us company,’ cajoled Marianne, she was always careful to make sure Steven knew how important he still was, and that the twins hadn’t replaced him. ‘The twins can’t tell us interesting facts they’ve discovered.’
One of the joys of being in Steven’s company was that he had an encyclopaedic brain and could trot out all manner of fascinating information about anything from astronomy to what really happened to the dinosaurs. But more and more of late he had retreated into himself and wouldn’t tell them anything.
‘Go on,’ said Gabriel. ‘You never know, you might even enjoy it. Plus Patch needs you too. You could bring your sledge, and take it down the valley if you like.’
‘Oh, okay,’ muttered Steven, going off to get ready, while Marianne and Gabriel went to wrap the twins up warmly and put them in their backpacks. It took forever to get sorted, but eventually they set off up the lane.
Having the twins with them meant they couldn’t take the more difficult paths, so they kept to the lower slopes, which had the advantage of meaning Steven didn’t moan quite as much as he might have done if they’d made him climb up the really steep bits.
But Marianne thought wistfully of the walks she used to take before the twins arrived. Then she hadn’t thought twice about heading off up to the top, walking on her own among the heather and the sheep for several hours. She wouldn’t be without the twins for a minute, but she was taken aback sometimes at the feelings of resentment that sometimes came from nowhere. It seemed to have got worse since she’d gone back to work. She had naively thought she’d just slot back into being a teacher, just the way she had done before. No one had told Marianne that it wasn’t that straightforward; no one had prepared her for the feelings of been split in two, feeling she was neither doing the job she loved well, nor wholeheartedly enjoying her babies. She hadn’t figured on feeling that resentful about the loss of her freedom when she was pregnant, and she felt guilty for it. And for the first time Marianne appreciated Eve, Gabriel’s first wife, who, woefully unsuited as she had been to life as a farmer’s wife, had been trapped by being a mother. Marianne loved her country existence, but at times felt stifled by the twins. Thank God for Gabe’s mum, Jean. Without her help, Marianne would have gone nuts by now. And she also felt guilty about Steven, aware she was giving him less attention since the twins arrived. No wonder he was stroppy with them.
Only not today. They arrived at the end of the path that led onto a large slope which led them straight back down into the town. Steven whooped when he saw that it had become pretty much like an ice rink. Luckily for Gabe and Marianne there were steps and a banister to hold on to so they could get down safely, while Steven leapt on his sledge and went hurtling down to the bottom of the hill. He was in his element, his face flushed with exertion, his eyes bright and sparkling. Particularly when Pippa’s husband Dan showed up with Steven’s cousins, Nathan and George.
‘That was brill!’ he said running over to them, with an enthusiasm they hadn’t seen in months. He gave Gabe a hug and ran straight back up the hill with his sledge.
‘I feel exhausted just watching him,’ said Gabriel with a grin.
‘See,’ said Marianne squeezing his hand. ‘He is still ours. He’s just growing up and we need to give him some space.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Gabe, and together they watched Steven having fun as the sun set on a snow-filled field, while the twins slept cosily in their backpacks behind them.
Being a mum was definitely tough, Marianne thought, and it required huge sacrifices, but moments like this made it all worthwhile.
‘So how exactly can I help?’ Cat Tinsall had tucked her tiny frame behind the ancient oak table which had been in Pippa’s family for generations, and was nibbling on a muffin and sipping a cup of hot chocolate. ‘I have to say, this is the perfect combination on a cold and windy January day. These muffins are delish. Can you give me the recipe?’
‘It’s only my mum’s, which I adapted,’ said Pippa.
‘The best kind,’ grinned Cat. ‘Anyway, tell me what’s going on.’
One of the things that had endeared Pippa to Cat on first meeting her was her can-do mentality. She was willing to help out at the drop of a hat, and frequently had Nathan and George over, without ever asking for anything in return.
‘Well, like I said on the phone, it looks like we’re losing Lucy’s respite care,’ said Pippa. She was sitting opposite Cat, cradling her cup of chocolate, and feeling very gloomy. ‘And I’m not sure what to do about it. I want to get a campaign up and running to save the services, but I don’t know if it’s going to make a difference. After all, everything’s being cut at the moment. Who’s going to care about one family’s small problems …’
Her