Having Carol for Christmas

Having Carol for Christmas.
by
Malcolm D. Welshman

Author of Pets in a Pickle,the ebook version of which reached number 2 on the Kindle Bestseller list.

http://tinyurl.com/7quxgrm

‘I’m pleased Carol’s coming over for a few days,’ said Lucy, as she finished squeezing the last squiggly red line of icing round the Christmas cake. ‘After all, she was a very dear friend of your mother’s for what ... fifteen years or more?’ She pushed back a wisp of fair hair and glanced across at her husband. They’d been married the same length of time, plenty long enough for Lucy to recognise when Paul was uneasy. The twitch of his lips. The tug at his dark curls. He was doing it now. ‘Paul .... You’re not having second thoughts are you?’ she added.
There was another tug at the curls as Paul looked across at her. ‘No ... no ... love. Of course not.’ His puppy brown eyes gave her a rueful look. ‘It was good of you to suggest she came over for Christmas. Far better than staying at that residential home. ‘It’s just that ...’ he faltered. ‘I’m not too sure how I’ll cope. You know ... memories and all that. Paul sighed. ‘Perhaps I’m just being over-sensitive. He reached across the mixing bowl to scoop out a sliver of icing and pop it in his mouth.
Lucy tied a red ribbon round the cake. ‘Honest, love, I think you’ll be fine.’ She jabbed a tiny Christmas tree to the side of the Season’s Greetings on top of the cake and pushed a Father Christmas into the icing next to it. Then stood back. ‘So how’s that?’ she said.
Paul sidled up to her and put his arms round her waist. ‘Perfect, as always,’ he murmured, wiping a smear of icing sugar off the tip of her nose.
Lucy gave him an affectionate poke in the ribs. He gave her a half-hearted grin. But she could still sense the tension in him. She wasn’t surprised. Even without Carol to think about, Paul had had a hectic week over at the Veterinary Hospital. Frazzled each evening he got home. And in addition, he was going to be the vet on duty over the Christmas weekend. Too conscientious. Always a worrier. That was his problem. And now he was worried about Carol coming over.
‘Carol could remain at Hollyfields you know,’ said Lucy. ‘After all, she’s good at entertaining the other old folk there. The way she prattles on. They’d actually miss her if she comes here.’
‘No way,’ Paul exclaimed. ‘That wouldn’t be fair on her. Besides, she’ll be looking forward to coming over. It’s just me being silly. I’m sure I’ll cope.’
Lucy felt her heart go out to him.
‘Look,’ she said gently, easing herself from his embrace and turning to face him. ‘I realise it’s Carol’s first Christmas since your mum died.’ Lucy saw Paul bite his lower lip while his dark eyes moistened and shifted from her gaze. She reached across to grasp his hand. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I realise it’s your first too. All the more reason for inviting Carol over. It might help you as well.’
She felt him squeeze her hand.
‘And of course, Rebecca will love having her here,’ she went on. ‘You know how much she used to enjoy meeting up with her at your mum’s. Carol was always so lively. And the things she used to come out with. She was an absolute scream.’
‘Yes ... Well ... Carol might have changed now of course,’ said Paul.
Lucy ignored the comment and said, ‘Remember how the two of them would sit together and chatter away for hours?’
‘Almost too much so,’ said Paul, chuckling. ‘No one else could get a word in edgeways.
Oh dear, thought Lucy. Paul did have a point there. Maybe Carol would be too talkative. Interfering whenever she got the chance. Constantly putting in her five eggs. But their twelve year old daughter had no doubts.
That’s really cool Mum,’ declared Rebecca when told of the impending visit. ‘It’ll be great having her here.’
The question of where Carol should sleep inevitably came up.
There was a spare room. That was suggested by Lucy. But hesitantly as she knew Paul had made it into a study for himself. Somewhere to get away and write in his spare time.
So she wasn’t too surprised when he initially objected albeit not that strongly.
‘Oh come on dear, it’s only for a couple of nights,’ Lucy cajoled. ‘It’s not as if you’re going to be doing any writing during that time now is it? After all it’s Christmas. And you’re up-to-date with all your magazine features.’
Paul scratched at his mop of curls. ‘Well ... Yes .... That’s true. Even so ...’
‘Paul ...’ Lucy glared at him. ‘You wouldn’t dream of doing any writing.’
Paul hesitated and then shook his head. ‘Of course not, darling.’ He gave one of his lop-sided grins that Lucy found so endearing. ‘But even so, dare I suggest she sleeps downstairs?’
‘She’s an old lady and needs her own space.’
‘Guessed as much.’ Another grin. ‘Just worry she might start poking about in my files’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Lucy. ‘Most of your stuff’s on computer. She’s not likely to hack into that.’
Paul scratched at his curls again. ‘Ah, but you never know. Mum never really trusted Carol. She was always poking her nose into places she shouldn’t have.’
‘Nonsense,’ Lucy said, feeling her hackles rise. ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you. You should keep it to your short stories.’
Paul burst out laughing.’ You’re quite right, Luce. Just teasing. I’m sure it will be fine.’ He gave her a hug.
But with Carol’s visit edging closer by the hour, Paul seemed to become ever more nervous. It began to affect Lucy too. She began to have doubts. Had she been wrong to invite Carol over? Nonsense she reminded herself. Paul had been happy enough at the suggestion and certainly his mum would have approved wholeheartedly. But that was the problem. His mum. Carol would be a reminder of her. Would Paul cope?
Though a white Christmas wasn’t forecast, there’d been a flurry of snow earlier that Christmas Eve and now everything was sprinkled with a dusting of white. As Lucy looked out of the front window, a few large flakes continued to drift down from the leaden sky. She hadn’t seen anything of Paul since lunch-time. He’d said he was going to make sure all his paperwork was safely out of harm’s way.
‘Just in case,’ he’d said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘You never know with Carol.’
A red car turned into the drive and slowed to a halt by the steps leading up to the front door. The woman who first got out was the manager from Hollyfields. She’d kindly agreed to drop Carol off.
‘It’ll be no bother,’ she’d said. I’ll be passing your house anyway. It’s so nice to think Carol will be able to spend Christmas with you.’
Paul was coming down the stairs as Lucy walked through to the front door. Rebecca dashed out to help Carol from the car. Their daughter carefully negotiated the slippery steps, Carol huddled next to her. Once inside, with the door closed, Lucy expected Carol to say something straightaway. She was normally the first to greet you. But she didn’t say a word. Most unlike her. Oh dear. Was she in a bad mood? Lucy wondered. She certainly looked a little distraught though her sharp eyes had lost none of their customary glint. And it was those eyes that suddenly turned on Paul. Then she spoke.
‘Hello young man,’ she said, her voice crystal clear, unfaltering.
To hear her made the hairs on the back of Lucy’s neck tingle. She glanced anxiously at Paul, wondering how he was going to react. She saw the customary scratch of the head while his face contorted, his eyes filling with tears.
Again, Carol spoke as Paul went up to her. ‘How yer doing love?’ There was no mistaking that voice. Carol had it off to a tee. It was Paul’s mother’s.
He stopped in front of her. The arm he eventually stretched out was trembling. In a voice choked with emotion, Paul murmured ‘Fine, Carol, fine,’ and reached through the bars of the cage to tickle the African Grey’s head.
His mother’s parrot responded with a delighted chuckle. The lop-sided grin broke out on Paul’s face. Rebecca clapped her hands with joy.
Lucy stepped over and put her arms round Paul’s waist. ‘Merry Christmas, pet,’ she whispered, feeling happiness spread through her.
He turned and reached down to kiss her. ‘Merry Christmas, darling,’ he said. ‘And to you too, Bex,’ he added looking across at his daughter.
‘Merry Christmas Dad.’
‘Merry Christmas my dears,’ chortled Carol to all three of them.