With Love at Christmas Read online

  I hand him a crumpled tissue that’s in my pocket and he dabs his eyes.

  ‘When it was time for us to get going, I couldn’t wake him up. I shook him and shook him. But nothing.’

  I kneel down beside Samuel and shake his hand gently. ‘Samuel,’ I whisper. ‘Wake up.’ But I can tell instantly that Samuel is no longer with us. Any hope that I might have had seeps out of me. A lump stops in my throat. He’s gone. The vibrant, funny Samuel has gone. I hold his cold hand to my cheek. My tears wet his skin and I know that he won’t ever feel it. Oh, Lord. What are we all going to do without him?

  I look up. Rick and I exchange a worried glance. I force out, ‘Have you phoned an ambulance, Dad?’

  ‘No.’ He looks bewildered. ‘Do you think we need one?’

  ‘I think perhaps we do. Rick has already called one. Just in case.’ Thank God he did. ‘I hope it will be here soon.’

  ‘It’s not looking good, is it?’ Dad says.

  ‘No, Dad. I’m afraid it isn’t.’

  ‘Has he gone?’

  My eyes fill with tears and I nod. ‘I think so.’

  With that, he sinks down into my arms. Cradled on the floor, I hold him until his body is no longer wracked with sobs. We hold each other tightly, rocking back and forth. For the moment, I am the parent, my dad the child. His keening breaks my heart. I can hear Rick crying, too. We all love Samuel. We love him so much.

  ‘Come on, Frank,’ Rick says. He helps to lift my father from the floor and together we ease him into the nearest chair. Dad looks small and crumpled.

  ‘I used to worry what would happen to him when I was gone,’ Dad says, tears still rolling down his cheeks. I cry with him. ‘I wanted him to find someone else, someone his own age. He used to laugh it off and say, “You’re only as old as you feel, Francis. There’s plenty of life in you yet.” There was, with Samuel. He made me feel like a young man again. With Samuel I could be anyone I wanted to be.’

  ‘You’re still that person, Dad. You won’t go back to how you used to be.’ Until he met Samuel, my dad hardly used to put a foot out of the door. He had a lonely existence, just him and his beloved books. And my nagging mother. When he first got together with Samuel, I did wonder how we’d feel about their partnership. We’ve learned to accept Tom’s wide and varied choice of partners over the years, but with your own dad, it’s different. He was my dad. I’d only ever known him as part of my mum. I can’t say I wanted that to change. As it turned out, we needn’t have worried. Dad and Samuel were so happy together, who could possibly deny them that pleasure? They were always fun to be with, and I know that Dad will be utterly bereft without him. As will I. Putting my arms round him, I hold him tightly. ‘You’ve got us. We’ll look after you.’

  ‘At least he won’t have to nurse me as a doddery old man, will he? I never wanted to be a burden to him.’ He cries again.

  ‘You’re not a burden to anyone, Dad. We all love you.’

  We hear the ambulance outside and, a moment later, two paramedics knock at the door. Rick lets them in.

  ‘Perhaps he is just asleep.’ Dad glances back over his shoulder at Samuel, forlorn hope in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘No.’ He sighs, and his whole body shudders.

  The paramedics confirm that Samuel, still in his prime and against the order of nature, has left us. They tell us to call Samuel’s GP and a funeral director. We offer them tea, which they politely refuse and then they leave. That’s it. They leave us alone to our grief and utter disbelief. It feels as if a bomb has exploded in our midst, and I look at my father and don’t know how he’ll pull himself back from this.

  I look at Samuel sitting, still and unmoving in the armchair, and I want to grab him by his cardigan and shake him back into life. It’s all I can do to stop myself. How can he have done this? How can he have left my dad behind? Who will love him as Samuel did?

  The paramedics might not need tea, but I do before I can make the other calls. Samuel’s family will have to know, our kids too. ‘I’ll phone the kids.’

  ‘We’ll tell them when we get home,’ Rick says. ‘Let them enjoy their time at the fair.’

  I nod my agreement. Of course; there’s plenty of time for tears. My dad sits on the pouffe at his lover’s knee and tenderly holds Samuel’s lifeless hand in his, stroking it softly.

  I gesture to Rick to come into the kitchen with me and we leave them alone together. Then, in Rick’s arms, I break down and shed more tears for the loss of this lovely man.

  ‘Hush, hush,’ Rick says, patting my back. ‘We’ll sort it out. Everything will be fine.’

  But I know that it won’t. ‘We’ll have to take Dad home with us,’ I say when the tears start to abate.

  ‘I know. He can’t stay here. We’ll find room.’

  I’m not sure where we’re going to put him, but I can’t possibly leave him here by himself.

  My heart is breaking for Samuel, and for my father who’s left behind. These things are terrible no matter when they happen, but why does it always seem so much worse when they happen at Christmas?

  Chapter Seventeen

  The doctor comes, and is followed quickly by the funeral director. With an alacrity that’s quite startling, they take Samuel’s body away. On Monday we have to go into their office to complete the paperwork. We are all stunned at how quickly he is gone from our lives, gone from the house.

  ‘I’ll go and get the car,’ Rick says. ‘We’ll take your dad home.’

  I nod. In the kitchen, I find the bottle of brandy and pour one for Dad and one for me. We knock it back without speaking.

  ‘Get a bag of things together, Dad.’

  ‘I’ll be all right here, love,’ Dad insists. ‘You’ve got a house full already.’

  ‘I’m not having you here by yourself. You’ll be as close to Samuel at our house as you are here.’

  He clings to my arm unable to move, paralysed by grief. ‘You sit,’ I say and lead him to the chair again. ‘I’ll find you a few bits and bobs.’

  I go upstairs to their bedroom and pull out some necessities for Dad. As I get his pyjamas from under the pillow, I try not to look at the bed, so neatly made, and imagine my dad there, alone again. In the bathroom, I gather up his shaving things and well up again at the two toothbrushes standing side by side.

  Rick returns with the car, and I help my compliant father into his overcoat and lead him to the car. It’s late when we let ourselves into Chadwick Close – gone midnight. I help Dad as he stumbles over the step. When she hears us, Chloe flies out of the living room and nearly knocks Dad over with a bear hug.

  He and Chloe cry together, and she makes soothing noises. I do what I always do and put the kettle on. Chloe takes Dad through to the living room and settles him on the sofa, still gripping him as if she’ll never let go.

  Thankfully, Mum has gone to bed. There will be time enough to tell her tomorrow.

  Rick, looking drained, takes Buster for his walk. I don’t know what I would have done without him tonight. He’s been a rock, and I expect he’s glad of a bit of fresh air. It’s been a terrible night. Tom appears from the dining room and lounges on the door frame.

  ‘Is Grandad OK?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Naturally, he’s very upset.’ Distraught, devastated are closer to the mark. I fear that he may never be ‘OK’ again. He is grey with pain. ‘Can I ask you to sleep on the sofa tonight? I thought we’d put Grandad in the dining room for now, and then sort out bedrooms tomorrow.’

  ‘Sure. Is there anything else I can do?’

  ‘Be kind,’ I say.

  ‘I loved Samuel too,’ Tom says, and then he surprises me by breaking down. He comes to cuddle me like he did when he was a child. He sobs in my arms, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry like this and I’m touched at the softness of his heart. It’s easy to forget that he has feelings at all when most of his life is spent whizzing in and out of the family like a whirlwind. He sniffs
up his tears and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. ‘Don’t tell Dad.’

  ‘Tears are nothing to be ashamed of,’ I tell him. ‘There’ll be plenty more where those came from.’ I rub my thumb over his cheek. ‘We’ll all miss Samuel.’

  ‘It makes me worry about you two,’ he says, choked. ‘You’re not getting any younger either.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom.’ That’s more like my son.

  We both let out a teary laugh. ‘You know what I mean.’

  Unfortunately, I do. ‘Let me make some tea for Grandad. You can take it through to him.’ I make tea and a cheese sandwich for him and Tom delivers it while I go to sort out our sleeping arrangements, which are becoming more complicated by the minute.

  I change the sheets on the futon and, when Rick comes back with Buster, I persuade him to go into the loft to find the sleeping bag for Tom. It could do with an airing, but I’m sure he’s slept in worse places. I’ve seen some of his photographs from Thailand.

  In the living room, Dad is sitting looking dazed. At least Chloe has released her death-grip on him – poor choice of words – and is now just holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder. He’s drunk his tea, but his sandwich is untouched.

  ‘Eat that, Tom,’ I say, and my son does. ‘Fancy a nice hot bath, Dad? It will help you sleep.’

  He nods at me, and I lead him upstairs as if he’s Jaden’s age, carrying his overnight bag. In the bathroom, he sits on the loo seat and waits patiently while I run his bath and find him a clean towel.

  ‘Here are your wash things and your pyjamas.’ I put them out for him. ‘Are you all right undressing yourself?’

  He nods again that he is.

  ‘I’m going to wait right outside, Dad. Don’t lock the door, and just call out if you need anything.’

  His fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt as his hands are trembling and it’s all I can do to stop myself from jumping in and helping, but I want to leave him with his dignity intact. I want to make him manage.

  ‘Take your time. I’ll be just here.’ I close the door on the bathroom and then take up my place outside. Sitting with my back against the wall on the landing, I listen to my father cry. The tears roll down my own cheeks. Rick comes up to see where I am and brings me some more tea. I am awash with tea and would really rather have more brandy, but I take it gratefully nevertheless. Rick sits down next to me. ‘All right?’

  ‘Yes.’ I wipe my face with my hands.

  ‘You’re doing a great job, Juliet.’

  ‘I feel so helpless.’

  ‘We’ll look after Frank. He’ll be fine.’

  I lean against Rick. ‘Promise me you’ll never die,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t think I could bear it without you.’

  ‘Can I have that in writing?’

  ‘Don’t tease,’ I say. ‘I mean it.’

  ‘Then I promise I won’t die,’ he says solemnly. ‘Not ever.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Those heaters that I dropped by did the job OK,’ Rick noted.

  ‘Yes.’ Lisa was making tea for him. ‘Thanks for that. It made all the difference in the world. For the first time this winter, Izzy and I have been warm.’ She rubbed absently at her thin arms.

  ‘The floorboards have dried out nicely, so I can get on and lay that living-room carpet today.’

  ‘It’d be nice to be a bit more tidy for Christmas.’

  He’d come to the job alone today. Merak was more than happy cracking on by himself in Great Linford, and he didn’t want to leave Lisa any longer than he had to without anything on the floor. He’d dropped his assistant off at the big house this morning and would collect him again at the end of the day. Someday soon, he hoped they might bring in enough business so that they could get another van and Merak could build up his own customers. It was a risk. There was always the chance that someone you had spent long hours training up would then leave and set up in competition with you. But he didn’t think Merak was that kind. He seemed like a loyal sort of bloke, so Rick thought it was worth it. But first, business would have to pick up considerably.

  The landlord here had gone for the cheapest laminate and carpet, of course, plus the room was so tiny that it wasn’t going to be loads of heavy lifting for him. A couple of days should see the job done.

  Lisa handed him a cup of sweet tea. Was it Rick’s imagination, or had she made a bit more effort with her appearance today? He thought she looked a bit tidier, and there was more make-up in evidence. Mind you, Juliet always nagged him that he never noticed these things when it was her, so he could be entirely mistaken.

  ‘Has the landlord sent anyone out to fix your boiler yet?’

  The day after he’d first come to the house, Rick had called the man to remind him gently that there was a young kid and a baby in one of his properties with no heating or hot water in the depths of winter.

  ‘No, but he said he’s coming in the next few days when the part he needs arrives.’

  Rick tried not to let out a cynical snort. Maybe the landlord was fobbing her off. Maybe he wasn’t.

  ‘Keep me posted,’ Rick said. ‘I’ll give him another little nudge if he doesn’t turn up soon.’ What he’d really like to see is the bloke here today. How would he feel if it was his daughter left abandoned in this cold, damp hole? And charged royally for the privilege? He could fix up this place in no time with a bit of effort and some well-aimed cash.

  *

  At home, they’d had a terrible week after Samuel’s death. Naturally, Frank was devastated and barely functioning. Rick’s father-in-law had moved back in with them for the time being, so Tom had been ousted from the futon in the dining room and was currently sleeping on the sofa. Juliet had said that Jaden would have to share Chloe’s room which – judging by the amount of vociferous moaning she was doing – his daughter wasn’t exactly keen on. Rick hadn’t pointed out that she actually had her own home to go to if only she wasn’t so stubborn and would give her relationship with Mitch another go.

  Due to a last-minute rush before Christmas – what was it about this time of year that made everyone feel they needed new carpet? – Merak and he were working flat out, so the lion’s share of organising the funeral and all the paperwork that needed to be completed had been left to Juliet.

  He couldn’t complain about the extra money that this rush of work was bringing in – goodness knows, they needed it. Against his better judgement, he’d agreed that he and Juliet should take the quick break together before Christmas, and Juliet had booked up the trip to Bruges that she fancied. Now – more than ever – she really needed the break. Bruges was somewhere neither of them had ever been to before. It sounded nice enough, but even a couple of days was going to take some paying for. Finances were also tougher now that they helped out Chloe with stuff for herself and the little one. He loved his grandkiddy more than life itself. Jaden was a great little fella, but they were such an expense these days. He seemed to need new shoes, new clothes every ten minutes. Of course, Chloe wanted everything in the house to be organic for him. Her child wasn’t going to be sullied by pesticides. Not that it stopped her sticking a decidedly non-organic sausage roll, or a Gregg’s dummy as Rick called it, in his mouth when it suited her.

  It sounded as if he begrudged them the money. But he didn’t, not a penny. Yet there was no denying that it all added up. Even when the work was coming in, people were more reluctant to pay up. It was getting harder and harder for him to collect the cash at the end of a job. There was always some excuse, some reason to delay, more bounced cheques, more homes repossessed the minute they’d finished laying new flooring. The customers who paid promptly without any quibble were becoming few and far between.

  Samuel’s funeral was scheduled for tomorrow, and he was taking a day off to be able to attend. It was only right. Merak would have to work on his own on a small job they’d picked up, and maybe Rick could go and help him out later when the funeral was over.

  At lunchtime, he stopped work for half
an hour. He couldn’t carry on right the way through the day like he used to. Now he needed to take a breather, even if it was a snatched one. Rick sat at Lisa’s kitchen table with a cup of tea and the girl sat opposite him. He’d made a sandwich to bring with him, and felt self-conscious eating while Lisa seemed to have nothing more than a Cup-a-Soup for sustenance. No wonder she was so skinny. She definitely looked a bit brighter today, though. Perhaps it was just the fact that she was finally getting her carpet replaced and wouldn’t be living with bare, wet floorboards.

  Izzy was on the kitchen floor at her feet on a colourful blanket playing with a moth-eaten doll. He wondered whether Jaden had some spare toys that he could bring for her. At home he was always falling over something or other that had been left lying around. The place was like a flipping branch of Toys R Us.

  ‘How do you get around living out here,’ he asked, ‘if you’ve got no car?’

  ‘I bought a second-hand bike and one of those kiddy trailers out of the paper,’ Lisa said. ‘It’s bloody hard work. I like to think that it keeps me fit. But I have to cycle up to Wing or down to Stewkley if I want even a loaf or some milk.’

  ‘That’s a long way on a bike.’

  ‘If I go to Wing there are fewer hills.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not ideal. I have to catch a bus to Leighton Buzzard or Aylesbury if I want to do a big shop, and that’s a fortune. The nearest doctor’s surgery is miles away. I didn’t really think this through properly. All I wanted was for Izzy to have a nice life somewhere that didn’t have car alarms going off all night or druggies on every corner.’

  ‘You’ve tried,’ Rick said. ‘There’s no harm in having a rethink. Perhaps you could move out to the country again if your circumstances change in the future.’