Chapter 18

18

Bess and her mum had planned to have their delayed Christmas lunch once Bess wasn't working, but Fiona had come down with a heavy cold and so New Year was almost upon them before they got the opportunity. Fiona had had the big lunch Christmas Day and so had Bess with The Skylarks at the airbase courtesy of Maya and Noah cooking up a festive feast with the works that, for once, they got to finish. That almost never happened.

Malcolm answered the front door at her mother's. Not only had Fiona and Bess decided that they'd have a regular lunch because they were both a bit over the festivities, they'd decided that Malcolm would join them. In fact, Bess had suggested it because she so wanted to support her mum.

‘She's got her hands full making the dumplings,' Malcolm announced as the waft of her mum's beef stew snaked its way through the air towards her. And on a cold, wintry day, her mum's beef stew with dumplings recipe was the epitome of warmth and comfort.

‘Mum's speciality.' Bess hung her coat on the peg in the hallway and went through to the kitchen.

Bess hugged her mum the best she could as Fiona shaped a dumpling between her palms. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘Much better, love. And this morning, I had a bath with some of the luxuries in the hamper you gave me for Christmas. I feel thoroughly spoilt.' Her hands were covered with flour as she set down the dumpling and made the next.

‘You deserve it. And I feel thoroughly spoilt having dumplings for lunch. One of my favourites,' Bess smiled.

‘Malcolm's favourite too.'

Knowing that felt oddly comforting to Bess – it had been her dad's most-loved dish when the colder months set in. ‘I hated dumplings when I was a little girl,' she told Malcolm, who'd sat at the table and looked about as uncomfortable as he had the first time they'd met here in the same kitchen. Her mum was now too busy with the meal prep and it was just the two of them talking.

When Bess sat down, Malcolm seemed to relax a little bit. ‘My kids loved them. Their mother made them as soon as winter hit; she'd refuse to make them in summer, though. Too heavy, she said.'

She already knew he was a widower but hearing him directly share with her a part of his private life softened Bess even more in her approach. ‘Your kids must miss their mum.'

‘They do. But we get through, with each other.'

When Liquorice put a paw up beneath the low-hung branch of the Christmas tree over by the front doors, Bess went to save the day. ‘Oh no you don't!' She scooped him into her arms before he could pluck the little nutcracker ornament.

‘He's a rascal.' Fiona laughed, briefly turning from her position at the bench.

‘He's gorgeous.' Bess buried her face in his fur. ‘Have you made your donation yet, Mum? For the tree collection.' This year, The Skylarks had organised to collect real Christmas trees across town in exchange for a donation to the Whistlestop River Air Ambulance. Once a donation was made, a label with The Skylarks logo was sent out to fix to the tree, ready for collection day in January.

‘Already done,' said Fiona. ‘The leaflet came through my door well before Christmas. I donated there and then so I didn't forget.' She took the lid off the Le Creuset pot and the smell of the stew filled every corner of the kitchen as she plopped the dumplings in one by one, submerging each beneath the liquid before she slotted the pot back into the oven for the dumplings to cook.

They continued their chatter as Liquorice settled on Bess's lap for a fuss. Perhaps attacking the Christmas tree – apparently for the first time in days – had been the cat's ploy to get some attention.

As they talked, Bess watched her mum relax. This was hard for her too, hard for both of them, all of them even. It must be difficult to introduce a new partner to your children – it was like being a teen waiting for your parents' approval.

The beef stew was wonderful, the thick liquid rich and flavoursome, the dumplings light and fluffy. The company was pleasant – Malcolm turned out to be easy to talk to – and when he insisted he did the washing up while the women settled in the lounge for a natter, she and her mum talked more about Malcolm, the coach trip he and Fiona had planned to Hengistbury Head. Her mum was happy and it filled Bess with more joy than she'd thought possible.

Before it was time to go, her mum asked briefly about her money troubles.

‘How is it all going?'

Bess didn't have the heart to say it was getting worse. She didn't want her problems to become her mother's. Not when she seemed happy again at last. ‘I'm okay. Thank you for lending me that money. I will pay every single penny back.' She'd said it before but she wanted her mum to know she meant it.

‘I get the feeling you're holding back.'

‘Mum…'

‘I'm worried.'

‘Please, don't be. I'll sort it.'

But her words felt hollow. Her mum was right not to believe a single word.

Bess's debts were no closer to diminishing. In fact, they were only getting worse. And no matter what she seemed to do, she couldn't get on top of them.

She had to keep trying. But was that really ever going to be enough?

On the second day of the new year, Bess and Marianne finally had a day off at the same time. Bess had done her best to get another shift, to earn some extra money, but she wasn't needed. And so for now she put thoughts of her debts aside and focused on something pleasurable.

Usually, Bess relished her alone time, and liked the way their shifts didn't always line up, but today it felt good to do something for Marianne and give her that cooking lesson she'd promised. She'd found a turkey joint in the freezer section at the supermarket – the last one, with a huge discount – and they'd been in the kitchen for a few hours now.

Marianne had had moments of panic but also moments where she relaxed into it and enjoyed the cooking. She wasn't anywhere near as bad as she claimed .

When it was almost ready, she turned to Bess. ‘This is a big ask, but… would you mind if I called Gio, got him to come over? It's just… well, I've never made a dinner quite like this.'

‘Sure.' But a flutter of nerves took hold and no way would she be staying in the tracksuit pants she'd pulled on, nor would she answer the door until she'd put a half-decent top on. ‘Prepare a few more carrots and sprouts; we've got a load of potatoes, it's all good. He's very welcome.'

And while Marianne called him and took care of the vegetables, Bess sneaked upstairs to make herself more presentable.

When he arrived a short while later, Bess answered the door and tried to act as though she hadn't just checked her hair for the umpteenth time.

‘Here…' He handed her a bottle of sparkling non-alcoholic wine. ‘I thought you might be working; this way, you can indulge too.'

‘That's very thoughtful. Thank you.' Although Marianne was so thrilled this was working that Bess had already decided she was going to get the chilled Prosecco out when it was time to eat. It was cause for celebration, surely; Marianne had wanted to make a Christmas dinner so badly and assumed she wouldn't be able to do it.

‘Does it smell good?' Marianne asked the second Gio got into the kitchen.

He watched her, apron on, oven mitts adorning her hands. ‘It does.'

While Marianne took the turkey joint out of the oven, Gio lowered his voice and said, ‘I wanted to take you to dinner, but this will do.' And then he looked over at his mum. ‘Is she doing okay?'

Bess liked the way he wasn't all out for himself. He was thinking about her and dinner but his family was more pressing and she liked witnessing the loyalty, the concern. ‘She's doing better than okay. I hope you're hungry.' She went and got the glasses out ready for drinks.

Bess looked across at Marianne, who still needed a few prompts. ‘Marianne…' She nodded to the carrots waiting on the board.

‘Right, yes, carrots. How much olive oil?'

‘A drizzle.' She watched her. ‘Bit more… that's plenty.'

When it came time to serve, Marianne was even more excited and Bess knew it was a combination of the meal she'd prepared and having her son here to witness it. She piled the plates with the meat, pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, vegetables.

Bess pulled the Prosecco from the fridge and took it to the table with a flourish. ‘I'm not working, none of us are; perhaps we make this a real celebration.'

But her suggestion was met with a hard no from both of them.

‘Oh… I just thought…' She turned to put it back in the fridge. ‘Never mind.'

‘Let's just enjoy the food,' Marianne chirruped, still sounding excited.

Bess sat back down as Gio poured the non-alcoholic beverage and they settled into the lunch and chitchat.

The meal was a resounding success.

‘No way are you washing up, Mum,' said Gio when Marianne automatically went over to the sink to make a start.

‘You're not doing it with an iffy knee either,' said Bess. ‘I'll do it.'

‘You do realise I take walks, I get myself up and down stairs at home now. Oh, and I helped decorate a tree, so plenty of time on my feet.' His gaze settled on Bess, reminding her of the proximity of their bodies the day they'd done that .

‘You're like a pair of children,' Marianne scolded, making them both laugh. ‘I'll clear up because I'm so pleased this went well that I'm too jittery to do anything else.'

Gio looked confused. ‘Why aren't you using the dishwasher?'

‘She needs to get it fixed,' said Marianne. ‘Gio, you're good with fiddly things, why don't you take a look at it?'

‘Mum, I'm no dishwasher expert.' He rolled his eyes, turning to Bess to say, ‘Better to get the professionals or it will end up costing more when they have to fix whatever I've made a whole lot worse. I happen to have the number of one; I can pass it to you.'

‘It's fine, I've got one lined up, always use the same guy; he just has a waiting list,' she lied. So did her finances: one thing at a time.

Bess loved his company, the way he was with his mum, the way he was with her.

And she would have gone to bed with a smile on her face if the evening had ended there.

Except it didn't.

Gio left, Marianne went to bed, and Bess locked up. She drew the thick, velvet curtain across and that was when she found the brown envelope that must have tumbled through the letterbox and somehow got hidden beneath the curtain, undiscovered until now.

She opened it up. And then sank down on the bottom stair, the tree and the lights taunting her from their position in the lounge.

This was it. Her life had gone pear-shaped and she had no idea what she was going to do now.