‘Thanks, son,’ he replies, with a chuckle. ‘I think I drank the last, but I’ll refill. Oh, there she is! Merry Christmas, Kate. We’re just going to make some tea.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ she replies, carrying a pile of presents. ‘I completely forgot to bring these up yesterday. Shall I just put them under the tree?’
‘Couldyounot have brought those up?’ Mum asks, frowning at me. ‘Big, strong lad like you could have carried them in one hand.’
‘Oh, it’s no problem,’ Kate remarks. ‘They’re not heavy.’
She sounds remarkably chipper. I watch her place our presents under the tree, thinking how pretty she looks in that top with her natural curls hanging loose, instead of straight and sleek. I love her hair like this. It reminds me of the Kate I used to know,the Kate who would make me laugh until my face hurt and look at me with such passion that it made me weak. While she might have grown tired of looking at me, the feeling isn’t mutual.
‘I’ll just help Mum,’ Dad says, obviously trying to give us some space. ‘Won’t be long.’
Kate sits on the chair near the television. ‘Merry Christmas, Ed.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ I reply, coolly. ‘What time do we need to leave for your mum’s?’
‘I said we’d be there for eleven.’
I bob my head in acknowledgement. She might seem more cheerful this morning, but I can tell she hasn’t slept well. Her eyes look a little puffy.
‘Right, you two, tea, coffee and cinnamon swirls,’ Mum announces, placing a tray on the sideboard. ‘I know you’re eating at Paula’s later, so I’ve kept it light.’
Oh god. I forgot we’re eating at Kate’s mum’s. As much as I like Paula, her cooking generally ranges from tolerable to inedible. Every year she makes me something vegetarian from scratch. Last year she served up cauliflower and Cheddar pie with roast potatoes and veg which was nice– until I found out later that she’d roasted the potatoes in lard.
‘I just want to apologise for last night,’ Kate says, meekly. ‘I’ve been stressed lately, which is no excuse for my rudeness but—’
‘Apology accepted,’ Mum says, giving Kate a hug. ‘We all get a bit narky at times, sweetheart, don’t worry. You just take care of yourself, yeah? Now, these presents aren’t going to unwrap themselves, are they?’
The gift exchange is easy enough. Dad loves his new fishing pole; Mum is elated with her bee hotel for the garden, and as usual, I get cash, as apparently, I’m both poor and impossible to buy for. Kate receives a Molton Brown gift set and a spa voucher which she seems delighted with. Dad’s gift for Mum is the mostsurprising. He’s had two diamonds and a ruby added to her wedding band, for the forty years they’ve been together.
‘Dinner at the Savoy, then drinks in a pub. . . gosh, I forget the name. . . and home by midnight,’ Dad informs Kate, while Mum sits blubbering beside him. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck that this gorgeous blonde agreed to go out with an ugly git like me. I knew that night that I’d marry her if she’d have me.’
I’ve heard this account of their first date a million times and it still makes me smile. Kate’s smiling, too. At last, a tale of love and marriage that doesn’t make her want to murder everyone. However, today I’m realising that my mum and dad’s story is undoubtedly quite unique, and despite my best efforts, probably not one that I’m going to be able to emulate. The thing is, I don’t see how I’ll ever love anyone else as much as I love Kate.
Kate
As we say goodbye, I’m a little tearful. Not just because of what’s been happening with Ed but because I snapped at Yvonne. That woman has been nothing but sweet and welcoming to me for the past fifteen years and I behaved like a brat.
‘We’ll be down again soon,’ Ed says, hugging his parents. ‘Enjoy the rest of your Christmas.’
‘We will,’ Dad responds. ‘We’re going to Patrick and Helen’s for lunch this year. Save your mum’s hands from getting too tired.’
‘Chris!’ Yvonne snaps. ‘Don’t be bothering Eddie with that. My hands are fine, sweetheart.’
Yvonne’s had rheumatoid arthritis in her hands since her late fifties, to the point where she had to stop playing piano. That was hard for her. It was hard for Ed, too– the sight of his mum sitting at the piano by the living-room window wasn’t one he was ready to let go of.
‘I thought those meds were working?’ Ed asks, glancing at his dad, who lowers his head. ‘And the physio? Mum, tell me.’
She sighs. ‘The meds do help, sweetheart, and the steroids. . . but I’m getting on a bit. My fingers get stiff, joints swell up. It’s nothing new and it’s nothing to worry about; your dad’s just fussing.’
‘Let him fuss,’ he says, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Promise? Andif you need anything, let me know, OK? I’ll be checking up on you.’
Chris helps us with our bags while Ed starts to defrost the car. It’s been cold enough for snow since we arrived, but still nothing except icy pavements and the very likely possibility that I’ll fall on my arse at any moment. One more hug goodbye and we set off for Hope.
Hope and Castleton are very similar, only Hope has a far prettier name and doesn’t have a massive great farting cave to attract tourists. It’s centred right in the middle of Hope Valley and the Peakshole Water runs from here and into the affectionately named ‘River Styx’ at the Peak Cavern. Everything is very old and very slow here, even more so than in Castleton. They still get plenty of tourists who enjoy walking up hills and then back down again, but Castleton definitely has a more lively buzz. They do, however, have a four-star hotel and spa near by, which is always full when I visit and I’m starting to resent them for it.
The short journey to Mum and Gary’s is as frosty as the road we drive on. Part of me feels sorry for Ed, knowing that he’s now going to be in my position, keeping up appearances for someone else’s family. He does have a better temperament than me, however. I’m sure he’ll hold it together.
We’ve barely made it into the hallway before Tom appears, sprinting towards us wearing a red jumper and a large green mask.
