A Merry Little Christmas

‘You’re right,’ said Gabriel, ‘but I’m dying to know. Aren’t you?’

‘Of course I am,’ said Marianne. ‘It’s been driving me nuts all morning. Come on, help me get the twins ready for lunch.’

‘We could always steam it open,’ said Gabe, as he lifted Daisy into her highchair.

‘We so couldn’t,’ said Marianne, strapping Harry into his.

‘Could.’

‘Could doesn’t mean we should,’ said Marianne firmly, going to the fridge to get the toddler-friendly chicken stew she’d made the previous day.

‘He’ll never know,’ said Gabe.

‘He might.’

‘Oh go on,’ said Gabe, helping her fill the bowls with stew, ‘you know you’re as desperate to know as I am.’

Which is how Marianne found herself hurriedly shoving a bit of bread into each of the twins’ hands to keep them going, and turning the kettle on. Gabriel self-consciously held the envelope over the steam, and then carefully opened it.

‘Go on then, what does it say?’

For a moment, Gabriel didn’t say anything, the colour draining from his face. Then he wordlessly handed her the letter.

‘Oh no,’ said Marianne. ‘He failed.’

‘No,’ said Gabriel. ‘He passed. Steven got in to Middleminster. Now what do we do?’

Cat and Noel sat in the busy waiting room at their GP’s surgery, feeling faintly ridiculous. The place was full of old people and young women with small children. Cat felt completely out of place. She shouldn’t be here at all.

‘Pregnant at my age,’ said Cat. ‘It’s mental.’

‘I know it’s not part of the game plan,’ said Noel, reaching out and holding her hand, ‘but I don’t mind. In fact, I’m quite pleased in a way. I kind of miss having little ones around.’

‘You are kidding,’ said Cat raising her eyebrows. ‘When they were little, you couldn’t wait for them to grow up.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Noel, ‘but that was before Mel did.’

Cat laughed.

‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘All those books we read about taming toddlers, and little did we realise having teenagers would be even worse.’

It was true. Cat had fondly imagined when the children were small, that life would improve as they got older, but while physically things had got much easier, she couldn’t claim that parenting had. Cat felt constantly torn by the competing needs of her children. Although Mel’s bad behaviour was her major cause for concern, if she wasn’t worrying about that it was James’ apparent lack of a social life and completely laidback attitude to school, or Paige’s desire to reach adulthood without actually passing through puberty. Ruby at least was relatively straightforward, but at times her relentless upbeat chattering could be utterly exhausting. The thought of adding a baby in the mix was making Cat feel weak at the knees. At least Noel seemed positive about it – just as well one of them was.

Cat sighed, thinking about Mel again. She was so hard to talk to these days. Maybe it was her own fault, wanting so badly to be close to her daughter; perhaps she pushed Mel too much.

‘Do you think I give Mel enough space?’ Cat said to Noel as they sat on the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Although Noel did get cross when Mel went too far, he seemed to be more tolerant of her than Cat was, and on the rare occasions when Mel did want to talk, she seemed more likely these days to confide in Noel.

Noel laced his fingers round hers, and kissed her.

‘I think,’ he said, ‘you worry too much. Mel is young and rebellious, just like I was. Don’t force her to come to you, let her be, and she’ll do it in her own time.’

‘Easier said than done,’ said Cat. She had never been the rebellious type, so Mel baffled her. Although Mel’s social life seemed to have dwindled recently. However, if asked whether anything was wrong, Mel’s replies were monosyllabic and perfunctory. She seemed to have fallen out with Karen, for which Cat wasn’t sorry. As far as she was concerned, Karen was a Bad Influence. The mysterious Andy seemed to have vanished into thin air – presumably the reason for Mel’s moodiness. Cat hoped it was nothing more serious than that, but if Mel didn’t talk to her, what could she do?

‘Catherine Tinsall for Dr Stewart,’ the receptionist called over the intercom.

‘Here we go,’ said Cat, her stomach in knots. ‘I feel as daft as a teenager.’

‘We can’t be the first middle-aged parents she’s seen,’ said Noel squeezing her hand. ‘Come on, let’s get it over with.’

Feeling as stupid as a teenager, Cat led the way to Dr Stewart’s room.

‘I’m almost too embarrassed to tell you why we’re here,’ said Cat, as they sat down.

‘It happens,’ said Dr Stewart cheerfully, when Cat revealed her condition, ‘particularly at your age.’

‘I was just settling in for the menopause,’ said Cat, ‘I’m too old for babies.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Dr Stewart. ‘Plenty of women go on to have healthy babies at your age.’

‘But the risks …’

‘Are higher for things like Downs, granted,’ said Dr Stewart, ‘but on the other hand you’ve had four healthy babies, there’s no reason to think you won’t produce a fifth. I can always arrange for you to have an amnio and other tests, if you like.’

Cat looked at Noel.

‘Doesn’t that increase the risk of miscarriage?’ she asked.

‘It can do,’ said Dr Stewart.

‘Then, no,’ said Cat, suddenly feeling protective towards the blob for the first time. ‘I think we’ll just take our chances and hope it will be okay.’

‘You’re sure you want to go through with this then?’ said Dr Stewart, ‘you still have time to change your mind.’

Cat swallowed hard; it was what she had thought about constantly, ever since she’d found out about the pregnancy. She’d been scared to mention it to Noel in case he agreed with her.

‘Absolutely,’ said Noel, he looked puzzled, as if the answer was obvious. ‘Why wouldn’t we want to have this baby?’