Chapter 17

17

The highlight of his Christmas had to be seeing Bess unexpectedly last night. He'd thought he was dropping over his mum's phone; he hadn't expected to be invited in. And he'd never expected to be decorating a tree with Bess, getting so close, he'd brushed against her – not on purpose, and she'd got just as close to him – hopefully intentionally if he was honest – more than once. It was a shame the evening hit a sour note when he knocked the paperwork off the side. It was none of his business but he wasn't stupid; he'd seen more than a few bills and it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. That had to be why she needed a lodger. Good for her, getting herself out of a tight situation. He only hoped it wouldn't affect his mother, although he didn't see how it could. Perhaps he was worrying unnecessarily.

Now, on Christmas Day, he put the potatoes into the oven on the shelf below what – even if he did say so himself – was a beautifully browning turkey.

He called Marco over FaceTime while their mum was out for a stroll around the block so he could get a word in before she joined. But first, Billy and Matilda wanted to tell him all about Father Christmas and what he'd brought them this year.

After Gio had had the full run-down of presents, Billy's face came a little closer on the screen. ‘Do you have an apron on, Uncle Gio?'

Matilda giggled behind her brother.

But they lost interest quickly enough and ran off to play with their toys which were far more appealing than adult conversation.

‘You're taking charge of dinner,' Marco chipped in. ‘Not surprised.'

‘Mum offered to help but I wanted to do it. Probably the only time I ever will.' When was Marco going to stop being so hard on her?

‘Unless you settle down one day, little brother.'

‘Don't hold your breath.' Although if Bess changed her mind and took a chance on him, you never knew.

Marco broke off to yell something to the kids and then came back on camera. ‘They're putting on their wellies ready to go out in the back garden.'

‘Is it snowing?'

‘Trying to, but I don't think it'll settle.'

‘Remember the year it snowed so much, we built an igloo?'

‘Yeah, you were rushing it; you didn't want to take your time and get it right.'

‘Of course I didn't, I wanted to play in it.'

‘And then you wanted to demolish it.'

‘All part of the fun.'

‘Where is Mum, by the way?'

‘Out for a walk, thought I'd start the call while she's still out, give us a chance to talk. You know she thinks you either begged to work or that you're not really working at all. '

Once Christmases with his mother had become a thing of the past, Gio had often volunteered to work over the major holiday. Others in his crew had wives, kids, parents to spend it with. It always felt selfish to him to take the time off when he wasn't going to do anything in particular.

Over the years, Gio had had a couple of Christmases with Marco and Saffy. They had the proper family Christmas the brothers had long forgotten about: the one with both parents, nobody wasted and unable to function properly, the one where the only yells were from over-excited children or from the television as an all-action movie took centre stage. The year Saffy was pregnant with Billy, Gio had taken charge of making the Christmas dinner at their place so Marco, Saffy and Matilda could have some time together. That was the year the boys' mother had been living it up in her bedsit where a few of the other tenants from the building organised a big Christmas dinner of their own. The boys plus Saffy and the kids had been invited but they'd politely declined – they could only imagine the ruckus, the chaos, the misfits their mother hung out with celebrating together.

‘I really am working,' said Marco. ‘That's why we've eaten the roast already. Saffy's family are coming over later on and I'll be going to the station.'

‘Mum wishes you'd brought the kids here.'

His brother put a hand to the back of his neck, a sure sign he was irritated. ‘I'm a long way from trusting her with my kids.'

‘I know. But she's doing well. Give her a chance.'

Marco's silence confirmed he was thinking exactly what Gio was as those words left his mouth – they'd given her a lot of chances along the way. There was the summer when Gio turned sixteen and he'd had a birthday party planned at the house. Their mother had organised it all – she would be around but not present; she'd let Gio have until midnight with his buddies playing as many computer games as they liked, eating pizza and drinking cola. She hadn't stayed in the background at all; she'd got pissed on a bottle of wine in her bedroom and cranked up the music as the clock rolled towards midnight, dancing in the lounge where everyone could witness Gio's humiliation. Then there was the winter Marco passed his driving test. He'd been driving with a full licence a total of a day before she called him to pick her up because she'd missed the last bus home. Not only had he had to collect her from a pub; he'd literally had to pick her up from the pavement when he found her lying on the slabs outside the establishment, probably five minutes away from getting scooped up by the police.

She'd been unreliable for as long as the boys could remember and it was hard to push her from that mould. She hadn't been a mum but rather someone they had to look out for, be embarrassed by, hoping she wouldn't do anything illegal or anything that got any of them into strife. At least she kept a roof over their heads but it was Marco who kept the household going after their dad left and she turned to alcohol to numb her feelings. It had started out just at the weekends, and the boys put it down to her way of coping after a week at work. She was waiting tables at the time but she soon lost that job. She found another and another after that but none of them lasted. And the more time she had off in between, the more she drank. She had boyfriend after boyfriend; none of them hung around, thankfully. They were as bad as she was.

As soon as Marco turned twenty-two and Gio was seventeen, Marco moved out, but it wasn't long before the family home was repossessed and Marianne and Gio were out of there too. Gio lived with his mum in one grotty place after another, he worked part time, finished his education, completed his training to become a firefighter and then he left for good. He'd stayed in the area at first, moved into the house share where he met Bess, helped his mother out when he could. He'd continued to support Marianne over the years until finally, in his forties, he'd seen his chance for a totally fresh start.

‘We've given her a lot of chances,' said Gio to Marco, ‘but I've seen it for myself this time. She's here in Whistlestop River, this is the longest she's been living near enough to either of us that we know what she's like from day to day, and I'm telling you, she's turned a corner. Just think about a visit. I didn't even see you when you visited me in hospital.'

‘You were pretty out of it.'

‘So will you come?'

There was a significant pause but eventually, he said, ‘I've got time off a few days after New Year. How about then?'

Gio would've leapt in the air if it was safe with his knee. ‘Look forward to it.' But he wouldn't tell their mother yet. The last thing he wanted was to get her hopes up, have her disappointed and spiralling into a melancholy that could be catastrophic for someone like Marianne with her addiction. He supposed at some point, he'd have to stop being so protective but for now, he was keeping his guard up.

‘How's that knee of yours anyway?' Marco asked.

Gio shared his progress, his frustrations, the way he missed work and when Gio heard the front door, Marco went to beckon the kids inside so they could chat with their grandma.

It was probably easier for Marco than trying to talk to his mum on his own.

Marianne enjoyed the FaceTime catch-up and Gio could tell how desperate she was to see them all in person.

‘It was good to see them on the screen,' she said as they got ready to sit down to lunch. Gio had just put a bottle of Appletiser in the centre of the table and he poured two glasses while his mum brought over the gravy boat.

‘I don't expect you to avoid alcohol for my sake,' she said, watching the fizz settle in the glass he'd just poured.

‘I'm not fussed, Mum.' He was lying and she probably knew it. Christmas Day with no work was usually a definite excuse for a few drinks, maybe even a visit to the pub, but he wouldn't do that to her. She was in control of her life and decisions but he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to derail that, so he went with a small white lie. ‘I took pain meds after my walk anyway – not a good idea to drink on those.'

They chatted their way through dinner and she reminded him that The Wizard of Oz was on the television.

‘I remember watching that as a kid.' He went for yet another few slices of turkey and several roast potatoes he probably – definitely – didn't really need. ‘We'd be allowed to put our pyjamas on, demolish our selection boxes.'

‘I worried you'd make yourselves sick with all that sugar.'

Back then, she had very much been a mother. Things had been different.

They cleared the table together, and even that, Gio treasured. Because with the simple task of clearing up came normality and Gio didn't think he'd felt so close to his mum in years.

Earlier that day, they'd exchanged small gifts and as they walked off their Christmas lunch, Marianne rolled up her coat sleeve to look again at the silver knot bracelet with an emerald stone he'd given her. Gio was wearing the gloves she'd given him, welcome in the cold when he couldn't shove his hands in his coat pockets because he had to keep hold of the crutches. He was getting better on them, though – faster, less clumsy.

Back at his place, they played a few games of cards, by which time, his mum was shattered and wanted to go back to Bess's where she planned to watch an old black and white movie and enjoy some time on her own. Gio had planned to have a quiet night in alone himself but he'd had a text from Jeremy at the fire station to say that the crew members who were single and, in their words, weren't whipped and under instruction to get home straight after shift had decided to congregate at the pub on Christmas night.

When Gio walked into the Whistlestop River Inn, he felt a sense of relief, the sense of belonging he was missing these days.

‘Glad you came.' Jeremy, a probationary firefighter, was shouting the beers next and included Gio.

Gio thanked him for the beer. The first sip was the best; he needed this today. ‘You settling in all right?'

‘I think so. Unless you heard different.'

‘Not at all.'

It felt great to be in their company. He'd been slightly worried putting his mum in the taxi back to Bess's in case the festivities of the day were making her crave a drink more than ever, but he had to stop obsessing for both their sakes.

He fidgeted in his chair at a table in front of Jeremy, stretched his leg out a bit better.

‘Your knee still painful?' Jeremy swigged from his bottle.

‘On and off, which is better than constant like it was at the start.'

‘You gonna get back on the job, though, right?'

‘Of course.' He wasn't about to admit that there were no guarantees. It was bad enough reminding himself of that fact, let alone anyone else.

Gio managed one game of darts but holding yourself steady while leaning on a crutch and with one foot off the floor was such a challenge that the lads, who'd sunk way more beers than him, had decided they should have the same encumbrance .

It was amusing to watch. Jeremy tried first – a crutch beneath one arm, the opposite foot off the floor. The dart missed the board entirely. It was Jock's turn next and his first dart did well, so did the second, but the third fell south of the board by a good metre when he lost his balance.

Gio got his crutches and had just hobbled back from the bathroom when he spotted a familiar, curly-haired beauty at the bar.

He scanned the crowd to see whether his mum had come in here with her. But it seemed Bess was with the crew of The Skylarks.

‘You're handling the crutches like a pro,' she said as he sat on the high stool next to her, ideal seating for someone with his injury.

‘You've been watching me?'

Her glass hovered in front of her lips. ‘How was your Christmas Day?'

‘Good. Managed not to incinerate the turkey at least. How's the tree?'

‘Still standing.'

‘Joint effort,' he smiled.

‘Totally.'

‘How was work today? Busy shift?' He'd spotted some mistletoe at the top of the archway leading through to the eating area but there was no sign of any near the bar now. Pity.

‘Not too bad at all: only three calls, no fatalities, all patients likely to fully recover. And people are lovely at Christmas, no matter what predicament they're in, and so thankful.'

People were always grateful but something about Christmas gave them a whole new appreciation when you showed up as if it was any other day. Which to them on shift it was.

‘Is that Hudson over there?' Through the crowd, Gio spotted the patient and family liaison nurse laughing loudly with a couple of others from the Whistlestop River Air Ambulance.

Bess frowned. ‘It is. I've no idea what's going on with him. I thought he'd be home with the kids the second he finished work. Maybe his other half has taken them away.'

It was Gio's turn for a round so he ordered bottles of Budweiser for himself and the others. ‘Can I get you another?' he asked Bess when the landlord saw to the first part of the order.

‘No, I'm good, thanks.'

‘What are you drinking anyway?' It looked like a soft drink to him.

‘It's a Coke. I'm saving money so I've allowed myself this and then I'll go home. If I want some wine, I've got a bottle in the cupboard. Or there's Prosecco in the fridge. It is Christmas Day, after all.'

He winced, knowing his mum was in the house, probably alone right now, with temptation in her path when she opened the fridge door. He wasn't sure why in all the time he'd known Bess, he'd never told her his mother had a problem with alcohol. She'd been aware for a long time that his family life was difficult but if Gio had told anyone the details, it would have made it all the more painful. Instead, he'd dealt with whatever came up, and then tried to return to his own life and block some of the bad stuff out.

He fought the urge to order a taxi and go via Bess's place to check up on Marianne – he decided he'd call her in a bit instead. He'd be able to tell when he heard his mother's voice whether she'd had a drink; they didn't need to be face to face.

‘So this is the first time you've rented out your spare room?' he asked in an effort to deter his mind from going places it was probably best not to .

‘It is, and it's going really well. Your mum is a model lodger. I could've got someone terrible but we get on, we talk, she's nice.'

‘I'm glad you think so.' He wondered what they talked about – was it deep or just the minutiae of daily life?

‘She says she's no good at cooking.'

‘She's not terrible but she's not great either – remember that time you were over and I told you about the meat pie, potato and pea dinners?'

‘I do. And when she first moved in with me, she really only ate beans on toast or pie with a side of potato but a few nights ago, she made chicken pasta in a sauce; tomorrow, she's doing a pork stir fry.'

‘I'm impressed.'

‘Didn't she help you with the Christmas lunch?' Bess asked.

‘She offered but I told her to relax. She headed out for a walk instead.' He watched her; she was holding something back. ‘What's wrong?'

‘It's not my place to say.'

When it came to his mother, he really needed people to share what they could; he needed as many clues as he could get. ‘Bess, what is it?'

She hooked a stray corkscrew curl behind her ear. She had her hair down today – it was always tied back at work. It was so thick, he wondered what it might be like to run his fingers through it. ‘She wants to make you and your brother and his kids a proper Christmas dinner one day. I get the feeling it's really important to her.'

‘So I should have let her help, that's what you're saying?'

She shrugged. ‘I just thought you should know.'

‘Christmas dinners were usually down to Marco and me. For a long time. Not the best memories, I'm afraid. '

‘You mentioned Christmas a few times over the years: how it wasn't always a happy occasion.'

He'd said that? He'd thought he'd kept it well and truly close to his chest.

‘Actually, I've offered to teach her how to make a roast in a few days once I'm freed up from work.'

‘That's incredibly generous.' He wanted to reach out and run his hand across her cheeks, the cheeks that rosied up when she smiled.

‘It's no bother; I enjoy the fact that I'm considered someone who can cook. I'm pretty sure I've never been described in that way before.'

Jeremy appeared at his side, citing his extreme thirst and blaming the delayed delivery of beers. ‘Come on, you're up next.'

Gio grabbed his crutches. ‘I'd better oblige and get back over there. It's making me feel better at least – turns out that when they have to use a crutch and not put a foot on the floor, they're way worse at darts than I am.'

She laughed. ‘Good to see you, Gio.'

‘Likewise. You hanging around?'

‘I'll be off home soon.'

‘Early night with work in the morning?'

‘Something like that. I might even have a couple of glasses of wine first to relax before I go to bed.'

His heart sank again. The thought of his mother around alcohol in any capacity sent a shot of terror right through him. He'd known that if his mum was a lodger with anyone, there might be this issue; it was one of the reasons – among the many others – why the second place they looked at was a terrible idea. The guy had a bar in the lounge downstairs. Gio had had a long talk with Marianne that night, suggested she might want to explain her sobriety to a landlord, but she'd point-blank refused. ‘ Then they'll never rent me the room,' she'd said. ‘And I'll never get my independence.'

‘Do yourself a favour, Bess. Don't open the wine; get an early night.'

Her beautiful face adopted a frown, as well it might. It was a weird thing to say and he wanted to shoot himself in his good knee for saying it. But instead, he went back over to the lads and the next time he looked towards the bar, she was gone.

Gio called his mum before he got into another game of darts. They chatted for a couple of minutes, enough for him to be satisfied that she was stone-cold sober, and he was even happier when she said her movie had finished a while ago and that she was already in bed. With any luck, she wouldn't even go downstairs when Bess got home so if Bess did have a glass or two of wine, she wouldn't be offering it around and about to shake the foundations Marianne had so carefully begun to build.

All it would take was one little drink to ruin everything.