‘You have chosen the perfect moment. All my worldly goods? They’re yours.’
I laughed.
‘Notquitethat big a favour. Actually, I was wondering if we could take the children to your grotto? I know the daytime cast isn’t a patch on yours and Daphne’s evening shift, but I think it would cheer them up.’
‘What a splendid plan. And lunch afterwards – my treat.’
The twins were overcome with excitement at the prospect of visiting Santa’s Grotto, and the last vestiges of disappointment at seeing their father so briefly fell away. How I wished my own worries could be soothed so easily.
William borrowed Lando’s car, a modest and unwashed black Ford Fiesta, and we piled in for the short journey. The Santa on duty that day was a tiny, wizened man more suited to playing an elf, but with an infectious ‘ho ho ho’ and a heart-warming delight in seeing each child. As Phina and Caspy – who insisted on going up together – chattered away to him about their Christmas wishes, William filled me in:
‘He used to be a funeral director, and very good at it he was too: exceedingly solemn and sympathetic, meticulously organised. Then he retired and handed the business over to his daughter and my goodness didn’t we see a change in him. The life and soul now, presiding over the tombola at the village fete and never missing a chance to get dressed up, as if he’d been saving up his jollity all these years.’
He was certainly a successful Santa; the twins came away beaming and clutching brightly wrapped presents, the corners already slightly torn at the impossibility of waiting to see what was inside. We had lunch at a cosy Greek bistro, where the owner knew and loved William (although I suspected this was the case for every hangout in town) and lavished attention and food on us until we were dizzy and replete.
‘What are we going to do when we get home, Penny?’
‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I am in the mood for a few rounds of Snakes and Ladders…and maybe a small den?’
Joyously discussing the layout of the den, which sofa cushions made the best walls and how many blankets would be needed, we headed home.
I had dragged everything into position and the three of us were sitting in the atrium of the den – I am averyexperienced den builder – playing board games, when Bunny came in.
‘Mummy, you’re back! Is Daddy with you? Is he coming to the panto this evening?’
‘I’m afraid not, darlings, but soon he’ll be here for a whole week. He can’t wait.’
‘Come in our den, come in, come in, it’s amazing. There’s a skylight and everything.’
‘I will, just let me go and make a cup of tea first. I won’t be long.’
I heard Bunny’s voice crack and saw the tears welling in her eyes.
‘I’ll come and give you a hand.’ I stood up and turned back to the twins. ‘Maybe we should have a snack in the banqueting hall part of the den, what do you think? Can you set up a special picnic?’
Delighted with this idea, the children raced off to get their bits and pieces of tea sets, all in mismatched patterns and sizes, but nonetheless ideal for the job. Bunny and I walked through to the kitchen, glad for once not to find Pilar there, although I was sure her advice would be sounder than mine ever could be. I flicked on the kettle and asked gently:
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
A tear rolled down Bunny’s smooth, pale cheek, followed by another, and another until she was sitting there, silent, and motionless other than the torrent of tears. I grabbed the kitchen roll, incongruently cheery with its Christmas pattern of snowflakes and robins, and pushed a couple of pieces into her hands, then busied myself with tea and snacks until she was ready to talk.
‘Oh, Pixie,’ she whispered eventually. ‘Pixie, it’s more terrifying than I could have imagined.’
‘What happened? Ben is…coming back, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, yes – at least he says he is. But Pixie…’
She had stopped crying now and her pale cheeks had a tinge of grey.
‘…it’s another set of twins.’
Right on cue, Phina and Caspy rushed in, wondering where we were. I quickly filled their arms with packets of snacks which purported to be healthy and sent them back to the living room to continue setting up, then turned to Bunny.
‘That must have been a shock,’ I said carefully. This clearly wasn’t news she was celebrating, and while I could understand why, I couldn’t quite bring myself to commiserate either. I would have swapped places with her in a heartbeat. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and devastated.
‘Don’t think me a monster, Pixie. I know we’re meant to think that every child is a blessing, and to be extra happy at news like this – double the fun and all that, but…’
She trailed off, her wan face a picture of misery. I sat down and took the limp hand that lay on the table.
