‘He’s not sick, is he?’ Fern’s mouth went dry. Whenever Fern returnedto Butterbury she always saw her grandad and sometimes she spent more time with him than she did at her mother’s house.
‘You know what he’s like, he’d never complain. He’s settled at the lodge but he’s slowing down a lot. You just never know do you …’ She was right, of course. Their dad had died suddenly, there’d been no warning, they hadn’t known what was coming their way. Fern would’ve givenanything to have one more day with him, one more conversation, one more hug.
‘Never know what?’ Her mum did this sometimes. She didn’t come right out with what she wanted to say but instead dropped little hints until you either pieced it together yourself or finally managed to get her to actually tell you what she was getting at.
‘You never know how much time you have. I want to make this Christmasreally special for him. I’d love for you three to be around to see him as much as you can, show him you’re still the sewing sisters.’
Fern began to laugh. ‘Nobody has called us that in a very long time, Mum.’
Their grandad had adopted the name for them ever since he saw all three girls making clothes for Daisy’s dolls. Daisy had been very young at the time but Ginny had had the patience to involveher and guide her with a needle and thread to stitch together a tiny top for her Sindy doll, and a pair of trousers for Barbie. Ginny had taken to any needlework or sewing project with gusto. Fern had never completely understood the attraction although it was part of her family, had been for generations. Grandad was a dab hand at both knitting and crochet and so Fern had wanted to be a partof it all too and had got involved as much as she could. And anyway, it was fun helping Daisy with her doll’s clothes. Ginny had been the one to help Fern with her needlework project for school too despite being much younger than her. In fact most of Fern’s grade in that subject could be attributed to her sister’s efforts – Grandad used to say that while Ginny had given Fern needlework know-how,Fern had imparted enough maths knowledge for Ginny to scrape a pass in her own exam. The sewing sisters had been a team through and through. But not anymore. And Fern hadn’t even picked up a needle and thread in years, it was Everett who mended the boys’ uniforms or sewed on a missing button.
‘So will you come to Butterbury for longer?’ Loretta pressed on. ‘I’m not suggesting Everett and theboys come too, they’re all busy with school and work, but would you come and have a longer visit with your sisters and your grandad? I know it would mean the world to him to have you all together again.’
Ah, the guilt trip. Fern might have known it was on its way. Come to think of it, Grandad had said almost the same thing last time they’d spoken.I would love to see you three girls togetheragain. I want to see you giggle and chat and conspire about something or other.She remembered him watching on during those times and the twinkle in his eye. Fern guessed it was the pleasure of being a grandparent.
Fern thought about her work, the home, the boys and Everett. And she thought about her dad. Her mum was right, you never knew what was around the corner. And she supposed she was owedsome time off work; she rarely took much at all. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she said.
‘Oh thank you, Fern. Thank you.’
But then her heart sank. What about the Christmas party?
‘I mean I know you’re busy with your important job,’ her mum rambled on. ‘I know you have your own life. It’s just that—’
‘I promise I’ll try. What have the others said?’ After all, if they refused to do it, maybe she’dbe off the hook. Or she could go to Butterbury and come home just for the party itself before returning to be with her grandad again.
She rubbed at her temple, everything getting more complicated by the second as her mum told her that Daisy would definitely be around all over Christmas because she was needed in the shop and didn’t have any trips planned, but Fern got the impression her motherwas yet to call Ginny. She wondered what her middle sister would make of the request. Ginny was totally different to Fern – she had a job but she flitted from place to place on a temporary basis and she travelledallthe time, something that had never appealed to Fern in quite the same way. Fern went on holidays, but she’d never been tempted to swan off whenever the fancy took her. A strong familylife with foundations and permanency was far more for her.
Fern hung up the call and looked at the picture in the frame positioned next to the lamp. In a silver square was a photograph captured of the family before everything changed – Fern and her sisters, their parents. Taken one summer, all of them were smiling as though they couldn’t stop and it warmed Fern every time she looked at it. Shecould still remember the day they’d been punting on the Cam after Loretta took a rare day off from work, closing the shop and throwing caution to the wind for the sake of making family memories. A bystander had offered to take their picture and after Dad sat down once he’d passed the man the camera, he’d almost fallen into the water.
Fern kissed the tips of her fingers and touched them to herdad’s cheek on the photograph. ‘I miss you, Dad.’
She turned off the lamp and headed up to bed.
Everett was nearly asleep but she quickly brushed her teeth and after slipping on her favourite lingerie she’d taken into the bathroom with her, she tiptoed back into the bedroom and climbed into bed. Sex would make everything better. They were compatible in that department and it usually worked toplacate him if they’d had an argument, they usually forgot what they’d even been rowing about. But when she snuggled up next to him and looped an arm around him, kissing his shoulder, expecting him to turn to her, she got no response and realised he’d already fallen asleep.
She turned onto her back, her mind buzzing too much to shut her eyes. What happened to her orderly life? The clean and happy-go-luckykids, the happy husband, the laughs they’d had and time spent together?
What happened to the romance with Everett, the staying up late just so they could talk to each other? She’d asked Everett that in all seriousness once and he’d looked at the boys before saying,They happened.She wouldn’t change it for the world, but she missed her husband. It was crazy when they lived together, day afterday. But it wasn’t the physical closeness she missed, it was the emotional connection. And both of them seemed to have lost focus on that along the way.
Fern had intended to ask her boss tomorrow morning for time off but as she lay there staring at the ceiling in the half light from the moon beyond the window, she realised she needed to demand the break. Because as well as wanting to spend timewith her grandad, Fern suddenly felt the urgent need to have some time to regroup, to pull herself together and stop making these mistakes, forgetting things, snapping at her husband and her kids. If she didn’t she wasn’t sure she and Everett would ever take a step back enough to talk properly and move forwards.
She looked across at Everett, willing him to wake up. But he didn’t. She thoughtabout what he’d said to her earlier, that she’d lost sight of the true meaning of Christmas. She thought about the brand new glasses, the fire pit and patio furniture, the recipe books sitting waiting for her perusal to cook the best and flashiest dishes to impress her guests at the annual party. A tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. She was only trying to make it the best for everybody, andthat meant doing it right.
Failure wasn’t a concept she ever wanted to entertain. Not when it came to the party, not with motherhood, not with marriage or at work.
She sniffed quietly. Because tonight she realised that not only was she risking failing at all those things, somehow she was failing herself. When had she last felt completely together? When had she last felt totally happy, as thoughshe was in control?
She knew the answer to that.
Not for a very long time.
