Under The Mistletoe

Chapter 10

Breathe, Kimmy, breathe. In and out. Inhale, exhale… Look at me, already practising to help Jess with her contractions. I stared at my best mate, a crumpled mess. Jess. Pregnant. As a baker, there had to be some witticism I could make about a bun in the oven. But joking was the last thing on my mind. My heart pounded at the thought of a baby growing inside her stomach. This was serious, grown-up stuff. Life-changing. I opened my mouth to talk but words wouldn’t come out. Instead I reached out and squeezed Jess’s arm.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I said, eventually. ‘We’ll get through this.’

‘How?’ she wailed. ‘I couldn’t afford a week’s nappies, let alone a cot or pram on my current wages.’

My eyes filled at the sight of sensible, level-headed Jess sobbing like I did at the wrong time of the month. I shook myself. Get a grip, for Jess’s sake. I focused, for a second, on the rows of cakes I’d made for Melissa. Like a herbalist or naturopath, I decided which was the best to lift Jess’s spirits.

Which to choose? The Santa Coladas? No, not alcohol, in her condition. And was popping candy even safe, in the early stage of the pregnancy? Maybe Jess would be better off with the plain, un-iced cinnamon spice ones. After all, lots of women got bad indigestion when expecting a baby.

‘Here…’ I guided Jess to one of the stools and put the plate in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak.

‘Shh!’ I said. ‘Don’t talk. Just eat for a moment.’

She sniffed loudly and, like a small child, did as I said. After a few mouthfuls, one solitary tear trickled down her cheek. But cakes were a girl’s best medicine – whether it was to comfort a broken heart or ease nerves before an important appointment. I poured myself a glass of water. I’d never seen Jess so angry, chucking flour into my mouth and colouring into my hair. At least it was red and not some way out colour like green or blue or … Blue? Wait a minute – had she even done a pregnancy test?

There had to be some mistake, I thought, as I watched crumbs tumble down her chin. This was the girl who’d grilled Miss during school sex lessons and asked if two condoms were safer than one (the answer’s “no”, due to more friction). I passed her a square of kitchen roll as she ate the last mouthful.

‘You’re more in need of a tidy up,’ she said and wiped her mouth. ‘Sorry. I … don’t know what came over me.’

I forced my lips to upturn before sliding the red food colouring down to the other end of the table. ‘Just in case.’

She half-smiled back.

‘Have you done a test?’ I asked, gently.

‘Yes. I nipped to the chemist on my lunch break and bought one of those fancy kits that tells you how far gone you are – eight weeks, it said.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I was sick again this morning at work. Thought nothing about it until Dalek gave me the evils and asked if there was something I needed to tell her.’

Jess and her colleagues called Dana, their boss, Dalek behind her back, because, like those monsters from Doctor Who, she spoke in a flat, monotonous voice and made everything sound like a threat.

‘You were sick yesterday morning, right? But I thought that was some veggie burger you’d eaten?’

‘Obviously not. And I’ve taken up chewing gum the last month, because recently I’m always hungry. Then I remembered Mum saying that you’re supposed to get that pregnancy nesting instinct, when you go mad cleaning, towards the end, not the start like she always did.’

‘So?’

‘Me, cleaning Ryan’s bedroom on a Saturday morning? Usually not even I’m that keen. I obviously take after Mum.’

‘Right…’ Mustn’t ask about the dad; not yet. Don’t do it.

‘So now you know why I lost it… This house is more important than ever at the moment. When it was just me living at his, Ryan found it too much. He won’t want a mini-me hanging around as well. In any event, that bloke’s moving in and–’

‘You know I’m here for you. We’ll get through this. Together.’

She shrugged. ‘I can manage on my own. I’ll have to.’

‘Don’t be silly. That’s what best friends are for.’

‘I said I’m fine,’ she snapped.

I bit my lip. Okay, she was still in shock – as was I. A pit formed in the centre of my stomach. This was what Adam wanted – kids, a domestic future together. But even if I was married, with a regular job and mortgage to boot, the thoughts flashing through my mind of how Jess’s life was about to change, made me realise… I just wasn’t ready for any of that. An unsettling flutter in my chest made me question… Much as I wanted Adam back, in the long run, was it for the best?

‘Of course I’m going to help,’ I said firmly. ‘Haven’t we always looked out for each other? Like the time Mum was rushed into hospital with stomach ache. You met me there and supplied me with coffees whilst I listened to the doctors…’ They told her, for the hundredth time, to clean up her lifestyle.

Jess’s voice broke. ‘Like when I broke up with Phil…’

Hmm, her latest boyfriend and, I guessed, the imminent father.

‘You dropped everything and came round to Ryan’s. We spent the whole night talking, watching rubbish TV and eating popcorn.’ She bit her lip. ‘But this is different… My mess… I… I must stand on my own two feet.’

‘Well, I’ll always think of myself as the kid’s slightly bonkers aunt-in-waiting. Unless… I mean, you’ve still got options…’

Jess bit her thumbnail.

‘There’s no need to rush into anything,’ I continued, gently, ‘but if–’

‘I’m having it.’

As I knew she would. Jess kept stick insects as a child and, to her mum’s annoyance, wouldn’t even throw out the masses of eggs before they hatched.

‘Then, I’ll be with you every step of the way – even if you use those eco-friendly reusable nappies.’

‘I’ll be a very environmentally-friendly mum – especially as, on my budget, most of the baby’s stuff will have to come from secondhand shops.’ She gave another big sniff. ‘You don’t want a best mate who’s carrying a kid around the whole time. Admit it. You think I’m a joke.’ Her chin wobbled.

I got up and put my arm around her, shards of pain piercing my chest as her eyes swelled, all red. If only I could wave a magic Harry Potter wand and turn back time a couple of months, for her. ‘This is hormones, Jess. You aren’t thinking straight. The rational you knows I’m one hundred percent behind you. And what about the dad…?’ Okay, I know I wasn’t going to mention him but the sooner Jess faced the realities of how she was going to manage financially, the better. ‘Whoever he is, I mean, not that I’m expecting you to confirm anything, but…’

‘Whoever he is? I can still reach that red food colouring,’ she muttered.

She had a point. Phil was the only bloke it could be. Jess only slept with guys she’d fallen for and it wasn’t long since she’d split with Phil, the married bastard who’d promised to leave the wife when his twins grew up – they’d just started pre-school.

‘Will you tell your mum and dad?’ I asked.

‘Not yet.’

‘Ryan?’

‘No way!’ She stood up too. ‘Look… Can we drop the subject for the moment? I… I need to get my head around it – weeding the borders will do me good. You tidy up in here – don’t forget to sort out all the bits for recycling but… thanks, Kimmy.’

I smoothed down her rumpled hair and leant forward – cue an awkward hug that hopefully made her feel a titch better. Then the doorbell rang. Jess escaped out onto the back patio and I scooted to the front. My eyes tingled. Poor Jess. The way her chin wobbled. Her blotchy red eyes. With a sniff, I opened the door.

Diamond shapes printed on a pink jumper and a coral cap greeted me. Terry had just about managed to tuck his top into his tight grey slacks.

‘Oh my God!’ I said. ‘Aren’t you just the cutest thing? With those tiny legs, that snub nose and such small, perky ears… You’re so well-groomed!’ No, I wasn’t hitting on Terry, I was talking to… ‘Frazzle?’ I asked. ‘You named it after bacon crisps?’

His eyes twinkled.

‘It’s so tiny!’ I looked down towards the end of the red lead.

‘Yes – that’s the point; she’s a micro-pig.’

I ran my hand along the black skin and gazed into the huge, trusting eyes. This was living the high life! Back in Luton, Frazzle would have been ribs on the barbeque before you could say oink. She was hardly bigger than my novelty pig oven gloves.

‘Now the introductions are over, may I ask, is everything is all right? There was, um, some yelling earlier – I couldn’t help overhearing something about putting a gun to someone’s head.’

Heat crept up my neck as I swung back to Terry. ‘Soz about that.Me and Jess – a little argument. And we’ve got all this work to do, before some prospective buyers arrive tomorrow.’

‘Anything I can do?’

‘Oh, no thanks,’ I said unconvincingly, thinking about all the chores ahead of me, before bed – like scrubbing the kitchen, vacuuming and dusting. Then there was bathroom after bathroom to clean…’

‘Come on, Frazzle,’ Terry said and barged past me. ‘Let’s help these two girls settle in.’ From under his arm he took a folded up magazine and waved it in the air. ‘I brought you that copy of Starchat. It’s the one that talks about Melissa’s school reunion.’ He winked. ‘There are also some pretty hot pictures of Jonny. Page twenty-three.’ He stood still for a moment and breathed in. ‘Something smells good. Wow.’ He’d reached the kitchen and took off his coral cap to reveal a bald head, carefully avoiding any spillages as he put it on the table. He let out a low whistle. ‘Someone’s been busy.’

‘I’m cooking for Melissa. She’s invited some wives around from the local golf club. The party’s tomorrow and the caterers have let her down.’

‘You’re a professional cakemaker?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. The more times I told people that, the more it seemed true.

‘What a pity it’s not the real birdies coming.’ His eyes widened. ‘Wouldn’t you just love to meet the latest girlfriend to join the crowd, Tracy Clifford? Did you see–’

‘Last week’s Infamous?’ I interrupted. ‘I know – that white dust around her nose looked a bit suspicious.’

‘She insisted it was face powder.’ Terry grinned. ‘She won’t last long on that stuffy circuit. Ah well, I still expect all the goss. There might be someone famous there so I want all the details – what they wear, how much they eat.’

‘Melissa showed me this trick,’ I said and started to put the cakes into Tupperware boxes. ‘It involves chewing food for just a few seconds, then spitting it–’

‘Kimmy?’ Jess appeared at the patio doors and frowned at Terry.

‘Nice to meet you, sweetie,’ he said and stretched out a podgy arm. ‘I live next door. The name’s Terry and this is my better half – Frazzle.’

Jess’s tearstained eyes lit up as soon as she spotted the miniature pig sniffing some flour on the kitchen floor.

Terry picked up the animal and handed her to Jess. ‘She gets on well with Groucho and if you tie her to Walter’s weeping willow, she’ll be as happy as a pig in… well…’

Jess tickled behind Frazzle’s ears. ‘I’ll start the borders,’ she called over her shoulder and disappeared outside.

‘Nice girl,’ said Terry and helped me force down a Tupperware lid. He glanced sideways at me. ‘Is she all right? I’m a good listener, you know.’

I shook my head, not daring to open my mouth in case I broke Jess’s confidence and the whole pregnancy thing slipped out.

‘Well, if you change your mind…’

‘Thanks, Terry – I appreciate it,’ I said, managing to leave it at that.

He fiddled with something underneath the base of a cupboard. Suddenly classical music blasted into the room. He re-tuned it to some disco channel.

‘Cool radio,’ I said.

But Terry didn’t hear. Dishcloth at the ready, his ample hips rocked jerkily to some retro soul groove. As he filled the dishwasher and scraped remnants of butter and sprinkles into the bin, his breathing became laboured. I tried to work out his age. Late fifties perhaps? It was difficult to say as there were hardly any wrinkles on his chubby face. Certainly not much older than the oldest of Mum’s boyfriends.

I offered Terry a random chunk of chocolate from the worktop, but he mouthed the words “no” and “cholesterol”. Then he continued to fill the machine, doing the John Travolta point in between each item, stepping side to side and jiggling his bottom.

Glad to see Jess digging outside, with a more cheerful face, I headed upstairs to the bedrooms with a bucket of cleaning products, kitted out to clean my shower, the mint green bathroom and Jess’s ensuite. By the time I’d rinsed out the last sink, my arms ached and I needed a cold drink. It had been quite cathartic and I’d kind of put Jess’s bombshell into perspective. Every day women got pregnant. That was life – messy and unpredictable with shiny jewels of happiness sometimes coming out of the darkest spots. She and me, we’d manage somehow. I’d be the best aunt I could. We’d get as much equipment as we could from charity shops and fingers crossed my baking earnings would help.

As my eye caught sight of the laptop, when I passed the office, I bobbed in to enjoy a quick social media catch-up. Waiting for me on Facebook was one poke, as well as three messages. Someone had also sent me a puffer fish for my virtual aquarium. Adam had always refused point blank to become a member; said it was childish and a waste of time.

My eyes scoured my homepage. Susie had got tickets to see Bruno Mars! Mandy was still recovering from that hen weekend. Callum had lost his wallet, Zoe was eating a sandwich in Oxford Street and Chelsea had changed her profile picture. But best of all… I could hardly believe it… India off Celebrity Chastity Challenge had accepted me as a friend!

As the vacuuming downstairs stopped, I wondered what news to share with my online friends. Normally my Facebook status would include some link to my favourite cute animal YouTube clip, a new cupcake recipe or the latest celebrity goss. However, this time my friends would be well impressed. Quickly I typed: “Am baking for Melissa Winsford!” I snapped shut the laptop and headed towards the top of the stairs. Terry shouted my name and feeling pleased with myself, I breathed in the fresh smells of bleach and ceramic cleaner, wafting out of every room.

I was about to go down when… Oh God… That White Christmas music played again. I shivered and goosebumps broke out on my arms. Although there was no smoke or sound of whooshing gales…

I know someone’s there and I’m not frightened, you know, I said in my head, even though, chest heaving, I was rooted to the spot. Racking my brains for phrases from Most Haunted, I concentrated hard. Knock three times if you mean no harm.

‘Kimmy?’ called up Terry, from the Games of Thrones Room (still think of it as that). I paused, mouth dry, eyes wide open. Then bolted towards the staircase, down to the comfort of human company. The music had stopped now, anyway.

I opened the door and there amidst the racing green walls and mahogany panels sat my new neighbour and Jess. My shoulders relaxed. They were at the bar, drinking… some yucky muddy drink. Terry slid a murky cocktail down to the stool next to Jess.

‘What’s in this?’ I asked, making my way around the billiards table. At least it had one of those brollies in that I’d bought.

‘Half orange juice and half… half…’ Jess sneezed. ‘Cola. We were thirsty and Terry suggested this. It’s called a Muddy Water.’

‘I tried to persuade Jess to let me nip home for some champagne,’ said Terry and took out a handkerchief to wipe his perspiring cheeks. Frazzle was curled up at the foot of the stool. Groucho was standing guard, ready to be the first to claim any fallen crisps. I shoved a Pringle in my mouth. They were Adam’s favourite flavour. We used to challenge each other to eat them sideways.

‘How about you, Kimmy? A spot of champers?’

‘Better not, Terry – I’ve still got to sort out the hallway and downstairs loo and maybe give the windows the once over too.’ I looked out of the front window and right at the bottom of the drive spotted two cute copper-coloured dogs trotted past on leads, long hair shimmying from side to side. ‘Borders look good, Jess.’ The sun was setting. Sunday night. Adam would have just got back from the gym, ready to sit next to me on the sofa and watch his favourite detective series.

‘What time are these buyers arriving tomorrow?’ asked Terry.

‘One o’clock,’ said Jess. ‘Deborah, the estate agent, is coming this time too. Just to see how we’ve settled in. Spying for Mr Murphy, I guess.’

‘Great dress sense, that woman,’ said Terry. ‘I’ve seen her several times. Fabulous shoes.’

‘Did you see much of Mr Murphy, Terry?’ I asked. ‘He must have been close to Walter, to get this place. Is he married?’

Terry sipped his cocktail again. ‘No. Single – Walter mentioned a long-term relationship that broke down. I met him a few times, during those last months. It’s a long way to come from Manchester – his mum, Walter’s sister, moved there when she got married. He seemed a decent sort – took Walter out to country pubs and would shout him a round of golf. Walter and Lily didn’t have any other younger relatives – Mike was their only nephew. Not that there was much of a family resemblance. Mike was a bit flash for the old man’s taste – you know, chunky jewellery, dyed hair. But they discussed politics and world news together.’ Terry grinned. ‘Right until the end, Walter was as sharp as they come, despite his series of strokes.’

‘Strokes?’

Terry ran a hand over his bald head. ‘The effects of them were largely physical. No one ever took Walter for a fool. I remember the week before his last funny turn, he gave the postman a hard time for leaving a parcel out in the rain.’ Terry shrugged. ‘Eh, listen to me wittering on… So, I wonder if Jonny will be at this Botox party tomorrow morning, supporting his wife.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Which was such a disappointment. I could have sneaked a photo of him on my phone. Uploading that onto Facebook would have guaranteed me a hundred friend requests… Jonny topless from the shower, Adam furious when the photo got leaked to the press… The headline would read: “Jealous Ex accuses The Eagle of preying upon young housesitter, Kimmy.”

‘I’ve got to be at Melissa’s for half past nine,’ I said and shook myself back to reality. ‘I’ll get up early to give the place the last once-over. It’s your day off tomorrow, Jess, right?’

She nodded.

‘Well, you have a lie-in, I’ll make sure everything looks spotless before I’m off. I should be back before twelve and then I’ll cook you–’

She glared. ‘I’m fine.’

Terry flicked through some CDs behind the bar. He rolled his eyes. ‘One of the few things Walter and I disagreed on was our taste in music. Give me Michael Jackson or The O’Jays any day. Whereas Walter was into classical and what he called cosy “Fireside music”. Terry cocked his head. ‘What was his favourite now…’ He picked up a Christmas Greats CD. ‘That’s it: Bing Crosby dreaming of a White Christmas. Jeez, he used to play that song at all times of the year. It may have been easy-listening for him, but not me!’

I almost dropped my Muddy Water. Oh my God – the music upstairs.

‘He did like Bond music as well, though,’ Terry continued, as he came across a CD with Sean Connery on the front.

Jess bit her thumbnail. ‘Phil, my, um, last boyfriend… He was dead keen on all those Bond soundtracks and films. Plus he loved the old greats like Bing Crosby too.’

‘Have you played that Christmas CD whilst we’ve been here, with the White Christmas track?’ I asked Jess, a shudder running up my spine.

‘You really think I want to remind myself of that married jerk?’