Married By Christmas Read online

  ‘But I was doing OK, I was coping. And then the secret wife came out and you … you ran away to New York and left me to pick up the pieces. You left me on my own with Tom when he really needed me. And that made the feelings a lot worse, and now they’re almost impossible to live with.’

  Anna didn’t know what to say or how to react so she did neither, and simply stood in the doorway, the heat and noise of the club at her back, the chill and damp of 22 December nibbling at her fingers and the tips of her ears.

  ‘It’s like Regina Clarkson all over again,’ Liv said at last.

  ‘It’s nothing like Regina Clarkson,’ Anna said. ‘How is this like Regina Clarkson? Regina Clarkson was a bitch. And you are not a bitch.’

  Liv looked up at Anna. ‘I’m not Regina Clarkson in this scenario.’

  ‘You’re saying that I am a Regina Clarkson? For what? For not knowing that you have a crush on the man I’m planning to marry?’ Anna spluttered, bewildered. ‘Is this why you’ve been so pissed off with me since New York, because I found Charisma, because I got my wedding back on track and Tom and I are still getting married? What, does that mean you don’t have enough time to steal my boyfriend? If anybody is Regina Clarkson in this scenario, Liv, it’s you.’

  Liv said nothing as she sat shuddering on the step.

  Looking over her shoulder, Anna discovered a large mouldering coat hanging on a hook outside the gents’, and though she suspected it of having a past that involved some sort of flashing, gingerly took it off the hook. Checking it for insalubrious stains and signs of animal infestation, she took it outside and draped it round Liv’s shoulders. As she huddled next to her on the step, the fire door slowly nudged the box of toilet paper out of its path, clicking shut and locking them both out.

  ‘You aren’t really Regina Clarkson,’ Anna said. ‘Regina Clarkson was the meanest, cruellest nasty girl ever to stalk the corridors of any school ever and it’s her fault I got suspended for three weeks and nearly put back into care. Although with this coat on you do smell like her.’ She was gratified to see the curve of Liv’s cheek show the hint of a smile.

  ‘Although everything you’ve said is technically true, on that one occasion it wasn’t her fault, and anyway Regina Clarkson didn’t smell,’ Liv said. ‘Well, except for Impulse and the enormous amount of hairspray it took to keep her flick in place. God, how I envied that flick, even when she was extorting our dinner money I used to admire that flick. You know full well that she was the prettiest girl in the school. Except for you, which is mainly why she hated you. And me because I didn’t hate you.’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t count because I was also the poorest girl in the school,’ Anna said. ‘Even after I starting living with you and had a clean uniform every day and proper shoes, everyone called me a skank or a gyppo.’

  ‘Not everyone, just the girls who were jealous … well, just Regina Clarkson really. And her friends. They were scared not to do what she told them to. Remember how she flushed Wendy Aylett’s head down the loo because she wouldn’t give up her shoes. I mean her actual shoes off her feet.’

  ‘It wasn’t one of my finer moments though,’ Anna said. ‘Going ballistic and attacking her with a pair of scissors.’

  ‘No, it was a little bit psycho of you,’ Liv said. ‘Even if you did think that Regina Clarkson told Gregory Peters that you had an STD.’

  ‘He was my first love!’ Anna said.

  ‘He was a prick!’ Liv reminded her. ‘He was only interested in you because of your boobs.’

  ‘I know, I knew that then, really, but it didn’t matter. You are the only person who can know what it meant to me, the skanky ex-care home kid, to get asked out by one of the hottest boys in school. That one lunchtime when he held my hand and kept trying to get me to go round the back of the boiler house with him and let him put his hand up my top, that was the proudest moment of my school career.’

  ‘What, more than your seventy-eight GCSEs?’ Liv asked her, sceptically.

  ‘Yes, because for that one lunchtime, I’d made it. I was utterly normal.’

  ‘And then you went crazy with a pair of scissors,’ Liv mused. ‘Even I was scared of you.’

  ‘Because by afternoon break someone had told him I had an STD!’ Anna protested.

  ‘Yes, but not Regina Clarkson.’

  ‘No,’ Anna admitted. ‘Not Regina Clarkson.’

  ‘Even though it was her you grabbed by the ponytail, dragged over the back of her chair and hacked off her lovely locks in one.’

  ‘Really, craft scissors shouldn’t be that sharp,’ Anna said.

  That had been the first time – and the last – that Anna had ever really lost control. Told by her boyfriend of five hours the reason why he was dumping her, something in her, that part of her that usually kept her head down, never complained, never spoke out of turn, never tried to be special or different, so that she could fit in with everyone else suddenly snapped. All at once she was filled with a rage that she had never experienced before. Perhaps it was all the anger she’d ever felt – anger towards her mother for leaving her, anger at her father for never even knowing her; anger that she was a part, but not really a part, of a family that loved and took care of each other in a way that she had only ever dreamed of – finally erupting out of her in a volcano of rage. But before she knew what she was doing she’d pretty much scalped Regina Clarkson in the art room.

  ‘In my defence I was really, really … I don’t know. I was hurt, I was so, so hurt.’

  ‘Regina Clarkson was hysterical,’ Liv said.

  ‘It’s not surprising really,’ Anna said, with some remorse. ‘I mean before, at the beginning, she probably did hate me unfairly. But after I went nuclear on her arse and cut off her ponytail and she had to go to the hairdresser’s and have a pixie cut which made her look like a troll … then she probably did have reason to hate me.’

  ‘But it wasn’t Regina Clarkson’s fault, was it,’ Liv said, turning to look at Anna. ‘Gillie Lampter told Gregory Peters you had an STD,’ Liv reminded her.

  ‘In actual fact Regina Clarkson was completely innocent of the downfall of your love affair. Regina Clarkson was in band practice for the whole of that afternoon.’

  ‘I scared myself that day,’ Anna said thoughtfully. ‘It made me think that I didn’t really know myself. How can I know what I inherited from the man that fathered me, what kind of a man he was, except that there was a good chance he wasn’t a very nice one? And as for my mum, well, one minute she’d be the sweetest most loving woman, and the next she’d be cold, angry, desperate, depressed. It was like this stranger burst out of me, this angry, confused, impulsive stranger, and I was so frightened that she was the real me, the me my parents made. I nearly got put back in care, I nearly got taken away from you and Angela, the whole family, because of one stupid angry rash moment. That day changed everything. That was the day I started making lists. I vowed never to lose control of even the tiniest detail of my life again.’

  For one second an image, or more of a feeling, of how the tips of Miles’s fingers touching hers felt flashed across Anna’s memory with a heart-wrenching jolt, and then it was gone again.

  ‘You’re not really Regina Clarkson,’ Liv said, nudging Anna with her shoulder. ‘Mainly because I caught up with her on Facebook a while back, and she lives with thirteen cats and a woman called Hilda in Milton Keynes. I should tell Mum, she’d be so pleased that I know a lesbian. But also because even if she wasn’t guilty of breaking you up with Gregory Peters, she was a bitch. You are many things, Anna, but you are not a bitch. And that girl with the scissors, that wasn’t you either. Not the real you. That was the part of you that had been dumped and hurt. That part of you needed to cut off someone’s ponytail. Thank God they didn’t have the power drills out in art that week.’

  There was a moment of silence between them as they listened to the sound of traffic rushing by, of drunken revellers singing ‘Last Christmas’ somewhere in the distance and th
e dull thud, thud, thud of the disco on the other side of the fire door.

  ‘Liv,’ Anna said, preparing herself, ‘are you really in love with Tom?’

  ‘Not really,’ Liv said. ‘Not in a “never going to get over it” sort of way. I know he loves you and that you’re meant to be together. I’m sure that in about ten or twenty years I’ll be totally fine.’

  ‘Oh Liv.’ Anna held Liv close to her, her own confused feelings about Tom now thrown once more into disarray. She knew this was her moment to tell Liv about Miles but for some reason she couldn’t. Liv had enough to deal with. Nothing was how it was supposed to be, nothing was certain. She had no idea what to do about it for the best.

  ‘Look, I know I’m making a mountain out of a molehill,’ Liv said, turning back to Anna. ‘It’s shameless attention-seeking on my part. Just ignore me.’

  ‘If you tell me to, I won’t marry him,’ Anna said quite seriously, half wishing her friend would make the decision for her. ‘I wouldn’t ever do anything that would hurt you – you’re my best friend.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Liv said, brushing the offer off with a flick of her hand. ‘You flew across the Atlantic to save your wedding, you are certainly not going to give up because I’m having a bit of sulk.’

  ‘But, Liv, I—’

  ‘I suppose the thing is,’ Liv cut across her, ‘being your best friend can be a bit of a full-time job. Maybe it’s because your life is so much more interesting than mine, but what it boils down to is that I’m jealous, Anna. I’m jealous of you, and of the life you are going to have, the life I haven’t found … yet.’

  ‘You’re jealous of me! Don’t be mental,’ Anna said. She shuddered and, considering it safe, took one edge of the enormous coat and draped it over her shoulder so that the pair of them sat underneath it, like particularly glittery twin hobos. ‘Me, the girl who can’t get out of bed without making a list, the girl who pairs tights just to be on the safe side, the girl who can’t function unless every single thing goes according to plan. I look at you, and you are so strong and certain and free, and I would give anything to be a tenth of the woman you are, I really would.’ Anna thought for a long moment and repeated her offer. ‘Anything you asked me now, I would do it for you.’

  Liv looked at the firmly shut fire exit. ‘Get me back inside so I can thaw out my arse?’ she asked, at which point the door slammed open, and Charisma stood there.

  ‘That’s where you got to! Come on, Anna, your song is up! It’s “You’re So Vain”. I tried to find one called “I Have an Enormous Backside”, which would have been so perfect for you, but it hasn’t been written yet.’

  Anna helped Liv to her feet and held her hand as she hopped over the icy paving slabs and back into the welcome heat of the club. But before she could follow Charisma back into the full onslaught of the din and laughter, Anna stopped Liv.

  ‘I’m not really sure what just happened,’ Anna said. ‘But I do need to know, Liv, are you going to be OK?’

  ‘Do you love Tom?’ Liv asked her, her dark eyes searching Anna’s.

  Anna thought for a moment, back to that brief conversation with Miles, their almost kiss. Every second she had shared in New York with Miles was burned in her memory, but they were also shrouded with confusion and ambiguity, and at no point had he ever said ‘I have fallen in love with you, Anna, please run away with me.’ Which was not reason enough to marry Tom, but it was reason enough for Anna to consider very seriously whether or not she did truly love him, and then she’d finally come to a conclusion: the answer was yes. Tom was a very decent man, in a world where men like him were hard to come by. He was gentle and steadfast and loyal and, yes, Anna did love him very much.

  ‘I do,’ Anna said.

  ‘Well, then, that is enough for me. Now, come on. Let’s get back to the party and see if we can get to Mum before she starts singing “When I Think About You I Touch Myself”.’

  But they were already too late.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anna had been up since five, at the window of her hotel suite, looking out into the cold night, waiting for the sun to come up, waiting for her wedding day to begin.

  The manor house was old and creaky, and a little cold. As she sat at the diamond-paned glass, her breath misting its surface, she watched and waited. Christmas Eve was here and even this early in the morning, with the sky outside still densely black, that special gloss of magic that this one special day gilded everything with was already in the air. That sense of expectation, that childish optimistic hope that this would be the start of something magical, the last day of hoping and wishing before at last every dream you ever had finally came true. For most, Christmas Day was the real day of magic, but for Anna it had always been the night before. The night before Christmas was when you could imagine for just a little longer that everything would be perfect.

  It was just as the sun began to rise, sending its molten glow across the frost-encrusted grounds, burnishing everything in its path with copper, that it began to snow. It was just a few flakes at first, but before the sun could rise above the horizon, thick, heavily laden clouds blotted it out, as the snow began to fall in earnest. It was snowing on Christmas Eve, snowing on her wedding day. With her dress hanging on the wardrobe door behind her, her sleigh with reindeer on the way from the zoo, everything was perfect, just exactly as she had always wanted it, and yet … Anna didn’t feel the way she had always expected to.

  That last Christmas Eve, the last one with her mother, Anna had felt it then, the magic. They had brushed each other’s hair, and her mum had sung her songs, pop songs that she liked from the radio. It was the one time she could remember music in her childhood before she went to live with Liv. She remembered then how her mum had gotten up and danced round and sang into their hairbrush, making Anna laugh so much that she couldn’t breathe. And they had talked about all the things that Anna would do when she was a grown-up, and how her life was going to be special, because she was Mummy’s special little girl and Mummy loved her so very much.

  Anna knew that those two special days her mother had given her on the last Christmas they’d spent together were meant to be her real present, her parting gift. Two days in which Anna could taste the kind of childhood that she should have known. She was sure that her mother had meant that time to be something that Anna would look back on fondly, gratefully. And yet it had been those two perfect days that had haunted Anna ever since, knowing how fragile, how temporary that perfection and sense of order was. But also always leaving her wondering right into adulthood if there had been anything she could have done or said that would have made her mother choose her – choose to stay – instead of … oblivion. And today, this perfect day, with every single detail pinned down with absolute precision, including the weather, was meant to be the day she finally said goodbye to all the fear and anxiety her mother had left in her wake, the day she got to say at last, ‘Look at me, Mum. I did this all by myself, in spite of the crappy childhood you gave me. I don’t need you any more.’

  Anna had expected to feel happy, excited and nervous. Perhaps fluttery, cross, stressed and demanding, but mainly happy. And yet as she sat there, waiting for the world to wake up to her pre-ordered winter wonderland, all she felt was flat. Flat and empty, like the pristine whitewashed world outside the window, a blank page.

  A quiet knock at the door made her jump, and when Anna opened it she found Angela in her dressing gown, her handbag slung over one shoulder, outside the door.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, engulfing Anna in a hug. ‘I know it’s early, but I knew you’d be up so I thought I’d pop in before all your “posse” got here and have a quiet word.’

  ‘A word?’ Anna said, confused, even though she was pleased to see Angela, who, having swathed her in a red silk robe, went straight to the kettle on the dressing table and put it on.

  ‘Well, yes, it’s your wedding day and well, I know I’ve never said it, and you’ve never called me it, after a
ll those years of fostering you, but I hope you know I think of you as a daughter. And maybe you think of me – well at least a little bit – as your mum?’

  ‘You’ve always been so kind to me,’ Anna said. ‘And I’ve always been so grateful.’

  ‘You don’t have to be grateful, you silly girl,’ Angela said. ‘I love you, since that first Christmas when you came to stay with us, and you bought me that little plastic compact mirror, more of a toy than a real thing, but you’d spent what little money you had on it and wrapped it up and gave it to me. And I thought if after everything she’s been through she can still think of other people then … well, I fell in love with you that day, you know.’ Angela paused. ‘I suppose I should have told you more, perhaps asked if you wanted us to adopt you properly, but no matter how I tried you always kept yourself a little bit apart, and I suppose I thought I ought to let you do what you thought best. But not today. Today, you need a mum, and I am it. Here, let me show you something.’

  Angela reached into her handbag and produced the little plastic compact, resting in the palm of her hand. Anna smiled at the long-forgotten object, a rush of memories flooding back. How scared she’d been, how uncertain. How she’d wanted to make a good impression on these strangers who were being so inexplicably nice to her.

  ‘It came free off the front of Jackie magazine,’ Anna confessed. ‘It wasn’t even my Jackie magazine, it was Liv’s.’

  ‘Well, never more has the phrase “it’s the thought that counts” been more appropriate,’ Angela said gently.

  Anna nodded, pressing her lips together, determined not to cry.

  ‘Good. Now then,’ Angela said, as she slipped an arm around Anna’s shoulders, ‘you can’t have red and puffy eyes on your wedding day, that won’t do. So don’t cry about it. You’re part of this family and whatever happens you always will be, as long as you know that there’s nothing to cry about.’

  Anna nodded, making herself smile away the tears.