Love At Christmas, Actually. Jenny Oliver
friends around all the time.
Megan had been working in a local cafe until last week, when they’d declared that she was getting a little bit too big to be shuffling in between tables and lifting heavy trays of food. They were sweet, and friendly, a completely different feel to working in Vittorio’s all those years, with the penguin suits and the attitude. At the Railway cafe they wore their own clothes, gave Megan extra shifts if she wanted them, and kept trying to send her home with extra food, instead of just her one meal included in the work contract. They seemed to know that was the only meal she had a day. Not that it mattered, as she’d take the leftovers home and Beanie’s stoner friends would have annihilated it by the next day. But at least she felt like she was contributing something to the flat.
Sala and the other staff seemed to be genuinely sad to lose her, as she’d maintained a friendly demeanour and go get ’em attitude no matter what. Regardless of the irate customers needing a coffee fix, her hormones blazing all over the place and the fact that her feet always hurt. They were swollen and huge in the summer, even the straps of her flip flops strained against her massive feet.
They’d offered her a job when she came back, although she had no idea how she was going to swing that. What was she going to do with the baby? She’d been talking with a young mums’ charity, and was looking into getting housing when the kid arrived. She wasn’t ready. But there were nice moments, like the little kicks in the morning, and seeing the scans, the strange alien head becoming more and more prominent.
She lay back in the sunshine, starting at the sky, crossing her hands behind her head on the grass. It was a beautiful day. And even though she knew, any minute she was going to start sweating profusely, and she’d probably have to roll over like a sad turtle in order to get up again, probably gripping onto anything available for dear life, it was worth it, to just watch the clouds pass by and think of nothing. To be completely, contentedly pregnant, with no guilt, no coffee-guzzling strangers touching her stomach. No old women looking at her in the street and assessing her age. The clouds made unicorn shapes and she sighed, as relaxed as she could possibly be.
Then the pain started. It was a throb at first, then searing, splitting, ripping agony all through her mid-section. She tried to wobble herself upwards, trying to relieve the pain but she couldn’t get up. And suddenly there was a wetness, and a clamping, tense pain, and she thought ‘Dear God, please don’t let me have my daughter on the top of Primrose Hill.’
***
The walk down to the Chinese take-away was awkward. Lucas was trying to engage Skye in a chat about Elvis, but her heart wasn’t in it, answering in monosyllables. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, but she was still holding Lucas’ hand as they walked along, so Megan didn’t class it as a total defeat. Megan slipped her hand into Lucas’ free one, and whispered, ‘Thank you for trying.’
‘I can see why you kept that one a secret.’ He looked at her, suppressing a grin. ‘Didn’t want everyone to know how you moved down in the world?’
‘Everyone’s a step down from the great rock god Lucas Bright.’ She rolled her eyes, desperately trying to keep it together. He wasn’t judging her, wasn’t looking at her with derision or disgust. She wanted to cry with relief. But the true damage wasn’t with her, it was with Skye.
‘Baby, how you doing with everything?’ she asked softly.
Skye pursed her lips, thinking. ‘Well, I didn’t think I’d meet my biological father in a chip shop.’
Lucas guffawed, turning it into a cough. ‘Excuse me.’
‘And that woman…’ Skye made a face. ‘Vile.’
Megan couldn’t help but laugh,. Skye looked exactly like Anna, passing judgement on a younger actress who wasn’t up to par.
‘She always has been, and she always will be,’ Lucas said gravely.
‘Yeah, well we should have a conversation about your bad taste as well, later on,’ Megan told him pointedly.
Lucas looked confused, but shrugged. ‘So Skye, any thoughts on your dad?’
Skye shrugged. ‘I’ve never really needed one. And he didn’t seem very interesting. And I definitely don’t want to be around that creepy lady ever again. Let’s try and stay away from them next time we visit.’
She looked up at Megan, all bundled up with her massive knitted purple scarf, her nose red from the cold, and said, ‘Is that okay, Mum?’
Megan stopped walking, and threw her arms around her daughter, warm and solid and hers. ‘That is most definitely okay, baby.’
‘Smart kid!’ Lucas exclaimed, shaking his head.
‘I don’t mind if you stick around though,’ Skye told him, ‘you’re not boring.’
‘Trouble never is,’ he laughed, taking her hand again.
By the time they’d retrieved the food and walked back to Whittleby Cottage, Skye was enjoying herself immensely. Megan had ordered way too much food in a frenzy, both on an adrenaline rush from seeing Belinda, and because the idea of feeding Skye lots of food somehow equated to making her happy. She ordered banana fritters and ice cream for dessert.
Skye was having a whale of a time, enjoying walking in and using the ‘met my father in a chip shop’ line again, although this time it was met with guarded curiosity instead of guffaws.
After everyone had eaten more than they thought they could have, they sat sleepy and satiated on the sofa. Jonathan dozed in the armchair, sighing along to the strains of Bob Dylan in the background. Heather heaved herself up and declared she was going to bed because she had an early start tomorrow. Christmas Eve. That left Lucas, Megan and Skye slumped on the sofa. They turned on the television, settling on Miracle on 34th Street. Lucas sat in the middle and slowly became aware of being encroached upon from both sides. Megan nuzzled against his right side, so he lifted up his arm so she could rest her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, comfortable and content. Then Skye shuffled further down, her back against his side until he was again forced to lift his arm, and find he’d become a glorified cushion for two tired girls. Something about it made him feel complete.
When the movie ended, he looked down and saw Megan was asleep on him. Her dark hair had fallen across her face, and she was frowning into his jumper. He looked to his left and Skye was looking up at him, and across to her mother.
‘Mum’s asleep?’ she whispered.
Lucas nodded slowly.
‘This has been nice,’ Skye told him, looking across at her mother tenderly. ‘I don’t think you’re Trouble any more.’
Lucas grinned. ‘Why thank you, Miss Skye.’
She paused a moment, then looked up at him, her eyes so much like her mother’s. ‘I wish you were my dad.’
His breath hitched in his throat, and he squeezed her shoulder. ‘That makes two of us, kid.’
‘You did what? ’ Jeremy’s excited voice floated down the telephone. ‘With whom? ’
‘Stop sounding so scandalised, you heard what I said.’ Megan rolled her eyes, nibbling on a gingerbread biscuit, one of her mother’s stained-glass ones which Skye had presented to her proudly, before disappearing.
‘And how was it?’
Megan surrounded herself in the memory of Lucas, hard against her, nibbling her neck, making her lose her breath.
‘Addictive. Dangerous,’ she sighed, ‘wonderful.’
‘Well, that’s my Christmas wish come