I had a week before my next Homebodies assignment, which I was sure would be more than adequate. And I was quite right, because Id almost finished and was starting to look forward to escaping to the remote Highland house-sit which would safely take me over Christmas and into New Year, when it was suddenly cancelled.
Ellen, the old schoolfriend (or so she calls herself Laura and I remember things a little differently) who runs the Homebodies agency, tried to persuade me to cook for a Christmas house-party instead, but she did it with little hope.
I dont know why she even bothered asking, I said to Laura, who had popped in to help me sort out the last of Grans belongings. Well, I say help, but since she was heavily pregnant with her fourth baby she was mostly making tea and talking a lot. Shes blonde, pretty and petite (my exact opposite), and carried the baby in a small, neat bump under a long, clingy tunic top the same shade of blue as her eyes.
She asked because youre a brilliant cook and it pays so much better than the house-sitting, she replied, putting two fresh mugs of tea down on the coffee table. Plus, she has all the tact of a bulldozer.
But she knows I need a rest from the cooking in winter and I dont do Christmas. I like to get away somewhere remote where no-one knows me and pretend it isnt happening.
Laura sank down next to me on Grans hideously uncomfortable cottage sofa. She probably hoped youd got over it a bit and changed your mind youve been widowed as long as you were married, now. We all still miss Alan dreadfully, especially at this time of year, she added gently. He was the best brother anyone could ever have. But he wouldnt want us to grieve forever, Holly.
I know, and you cant say I havent picked up the pieces and got on with my life, I said, though I didnt add that even after eight years the grief was still mixed fairly equally with anger. But Christmas and the anniversary of the accident always bring things back and Id much rather spend it quietly on my own.
I expect Ellens forgotten that you werent brought up to celebrate Christmas in the same way as everyone else, too.
Laura and I go way back to infant school, so she understands my slightly strange upbringing, but Ellen only came on the scene later, at the comprehensive (and though she denies it now, she tagged on to the group of girls who bullied me because of my height).
No, the Strange Baptists think the trappings of the season are all pagan manifestations of mans fall from spiritual grace though Gran could play a mean Christmas hymn on the harmonium.
Laura looked at the space opposite, where the instrument had always stood against the magnolia blown-vinyl wallpaper. I dont know how you managed to fit that harmonium into your tiny cottage, I bet it weighed a ton even though it wasnt very big.
It did, but I was determined to have it because it was Grans pride and joy the only time she seemed happy was when she was playing it. It just fitted into the space under the stairs.
I hadnt kept a lot, otherwise: the pink satin eiderdown that had covered my narrow bed as a child and two austere cross- stitch samplers sewn by my great-grandmother. One said, Strange are the ways of the Lord and the other, That He may do His work, His strange work. That was about it.
What was left was a motley collection of cheap utility furniture, battered enamel and aluminium saucepans and the like, which were being collected by a house clearance firm.
The house had been immaculate, apart from a little dust, and Gran had never been a hoarder, so there hadnt been that much to sort out. Her clothes had already been packed and collected by a local charity and all that was left now to put in my car was a cardboard box of neatly filed household papers.
I think Im just about finished here, I said, taking a biscuit from the packet Laura had brought, though Garibaldi are not actually my favourite a bit too crushed-fly looking. So, are you going to call this baby Garibaldi, then?
Now, this was not such a daft question as you might suppose, since during her last pregnancy Laura had been addicted to Mars bars and she had called her baby boy Mars. He should thank his lucky stars it hadnt been Twix or Flake.
She giggled. No way! But if its a girl we might call it Holly after you, even though it will be a very early spring, rather than a Christmas, baby.
I hated my name (my late mothers choice), but I was quite touched. I suppose it would be better than Garibaldi, I conceded, especially for a girl.
I took a sip of the pale, fragrant tea, which was the Earl Grey that Laura had brought with her, rather than the Yorkshire tea that Gran had always made strong enough to stand a spoon in. The van will be here any minute, so weve just got the box of papers to stick in my car and were done. The meter reader came while you were in the kitchen, so I expect the electricity will be turned off any minute now, too.
As if on cue, the dim bulb in its mottled glass shade went out and left us in the gathering shadows of a December afternoon.
Lead kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, I sang sepulchrally.
You know a hymn for every occasion.
So would you, if youd been brought up by a Strange Baptist.
Still, its just as well youd finished sorting out, Laura said. She wasnt a great hoarder, your gran, was she?
No, apart from the few mementoes in that tin trunk I took home and Ive been reading a bit more in that sort of diary I told you Id found. Some of it is fascinating, but you have to wade through lots of Victorian-sounding moralising in between.
You could skip those bits? she suggested.
I thought about it, then decided I wanted to read it all, because I never felt I really knew her and it might give me some insight into what made her tick.
She was certainly very reserved and austere, Laura agreed, looking round the sparsely furnished room, and frugal: but that was probably her upbringing.
Yes, if ever I wanted to buy her a present, she always said she had everything she needed. She could never resist Yardleys lavender soap, though, but that was about as tempted by the lures of the flesh as she ever got.
She was very proud of you, having your own house and career.
I suppose she was, though she would have preferred me to train to be a teacher, like you and Alan she didnt consider cooking much above skivvying. And when I left the restaurant and signed up to Homebodies instead, she thought cooking for large house-parties in the summer and looking after peoples properties and pets in the winter was just like going into service.
Its worked very well though, hasnt it? You get paid so much for the summer jobs that you can take the poorly paid home-sitting ones in the winter.
Theyre more for a change of scene and a rest, so staying rent free in someone elses house suits me fine: I get to see a different bit of the country and they get their house and pets taken care of, so they can enjoy their hols without any worries.
But now your next home-sitting job has fallen through, you could spend Christmas Day with us, couldnt you? she suggested. Were going over to Mum and Dads for dinner and Mum is always saying she hardly sees you any more.
Oh no, I couldnt! I said with more haste than tact.
It would be better than staying home alone and Ive just invited my cousin Sam to stay. His divorce has been finalised and hes at a loose end. You got on so well when you met in the summer and went on that date.
Laura, that wasnt a date, we just both wanted to see the same film. And hes at least a foot shorter than me.
Thats a gross exaggeration a couple of inches, at most! Anyway, he said he liked a woman who knew her own mind and the way you wore your hair made him think of Nefertiti.
Did he? I said doubtfully. My hair is black, thick and straight and I keep it in a sort of long, smooth bob that curves forwards at the sides like wings. I expect he was just being kind. Not many men want to go out with someone taller than themselves.
They might if you ever gave them the chance, Holly!
Theres no point: I met my Mr Right and I dont believe in second-best. Alan had found me beautiful, too, though I had found it hard to believe him at first after all that school bullying about my height and my very untrendy clothes
It doesnt have to be second-best I know you and Alan loved each other, but no-one would blame you, least of all me, if you fell in love with someone else now. Alan would be the last man to want you to mourn him forever.
Im not still mourning, Ive moved on. Its just I paused, trying to sum up how I felt. Its just that what we had was so perfect that I know Im not going to find that again.
But was it so perfect? Is any marriage ever that? she asked. And have you ever thought that you werent actually married for long enough for the gilt to wear off the gingerbread?
I looked at her, startled. What do you mean?
Well, you were very happy, but even the best relationships change over time: their little ways start to irritate you and you have to learn a bit of give and take. Alan wasnt perfect and neither are you: none of us are. Look at me and Dan, for instance. He cant understand why I need forty-six pairs of shoes and I hate coming second in his life to rugby but we still love each other.
Apart from our work, the only thing Alan and I didnt do together was the running we shared everything else.
But one or both of you might have felt that was a bit claustrophobic eventually. Alan was a dreamer too and he dreamed of writing. You couldnt do that together.
Well, I didnt stop him, I said defensively. In fact, I encouraged him, though the teaching took up a lot of his time and energy. And I was going to write a house-party cookbook, so we did share that interest too, in a way.
Oh yes Id forgotten about the cookbook. You havent mentioned it for ages.
Its nearly finished, just one more section to go.
That was the one dealing with catering for a Christmas house-party, which I had been putting off.
I do realise the dynamics of the relationship would have changed when we had children, Laura, but we had it all planned. I wish now we hadnt waited so long, though.
There you are, then, she said triumphantly, if you find someone else, its not too late to start a family look at me!
Funnily enough I was thinking about that in Devon, and I decided that although I dont want another man, I do want a baby before its too late. So I thought Id try artificial insemination. What do you think?
She stared at me from startled, long-lashed blue eyes. Really? Well, I suppose you could, she conceded reluctantly after a minute. But wouldnt you prefer to try the natural way first?
No, I said simply. I want the baby to be just mine.
How would you manage financially? Have you thought it through?
I own the cottage, I pointed out, because Id paid off the mortgage on our terraced house with the insurance money after Alan died, then moved out to an even smaller cottage in the countryside between Ormskirk and Merchester. And I thought I could finish off the cookery book and maybe start doing party catering from home.
Im not sure youve seen all the pitfalls of going it alone with a small child, but I know what youre like when youve made your mind up, she said resignedly. Then she brightened and added, But I could help you and it would be lovely to be able to see more of you.
Yes, that would be great and Ill be counting on you for advice if I get pregnant.
I must say, youve really surprised me, though.
I surprised myself, but something Gran said right at the end made me realise I ought to go out there and get what I want, before its too late.
You mean when she said some mans name youd never heard of?
I nodded. It was the way she said it and she could see him, too. Id never seen her smile like that, so she must have loved and lost him, whoever he was and perhaps her journal will tell me that eventually. Her face went all soft, and I could see how beautiful she must have been when she was young.
Just like you, with the same black hair and light grey eyes.
Laura, you cant say Im beautiful! I mean, apart from being the size of a maypole, Ive got a big, beaky nose.
Youre striking, and your nose isnt beaky, its only got the tiniest hint of a curve in it, she said loyally. Sams right, you do look like that bust of Nefertiti you see in photographs though your hair is a bit more Cleopatra.
I was flattered but unconvinced. Grans skin had been peaches and cream and mine was heading towards a warm olive so that I look Mediterranean apart from my light eyes. Grans mothers family came from Liverpool originally, so I daresay I have some foreign sailor in my ancestry to thank for my colouring and maybe my height, which has been the bane of my existence.
I quite liked Sam, because at least he didnt talk to my boobs, like a lot of men do, I conceded and then immediately regretted it, because she said eagerly, So you will come to us, if only for Christmas dinner? I promise not to push you together, but it would give you a chance to get to know him a bit and
My phone emitted a strangled snatch of Mozart and I grabbed it. Saved by the muzak.
Chapter 2
Little Mumming
At my last hospital I was frequently left in sole command of a childrens ward in a separate building, night after night. When the air raid sirens went I took all the children down to a dark and damp cellar, where I had to beat hundreds of cockroaches off the cots and beds before they could be used. Finally, earlier this year, weakened by too many night shifts, lack of sleep (for I found it impossible to sleep during the day), too much responsibility and poor food, my health broke down and I was sent home to recover.
October 1944
I hoped the call wasnt the man from Chriss Clearance saying hed decided against collecting Grans fairly worthless sticks of furniture and bric-a-brac, but no, it was Ellen from the Homebodies agency.
Holly, you know I said there was nothing else on the books over Christmas? she said in her slightly harsh voice, without any preamble. Ellen doesnt do polite, except to the customers. Well, now somethings come up and Im going to ask you to do it for me as a big, big favour!