A Perfect Christmas

Chapter SEVEN


Across town Cait was dragging her weary body down the stairs. Her head throbbed, eyes felt sore, and she knew her face was swollen and blotchy from the amount of crying she had done during the night. She was only up now as she was desperate for a drink of water and a couple of aspirin to ease her headache then she planned to return, cocoon herself in her bedclothes again, and nurse the incredible pain of loss and severe worry for her future that seemed to be overwhelming her.

She was so consumed by her own misery she did not see the suitcases piled by the front door. As she arrived at the bottom of the stairs, her mother, dressed for outdoors, pulling on black calf-leather gloves, came out of the lounge.

Spotting Cait, Nerys shot her a disinterested look and remarked, ‘So, you’ve decided to grace us with your presence.’

It was then that Cait noticed the suitcases. She gawped at them. Her mother had told her that the trip she’d planned to take her father to the specialist clinic was off as Cait had spent too much money on her wedding, so where could they be going?

When she asked her mother, Nerys responded briskly, ‘I’m taking your father abroad for his health. Not to the clinic of course, as your selfishness has ruled that out, but somewhere warmer than here.’ At this Cait frowned. But her wedding had only been called off yesterday evening. There had not been enough time for her mother to arrange a trip overseas at such short notice, surely? Then the awful truth dawned. Her parents had never had any intention of attending her wedding!

Before she had time to deal with the hurt and pain caused by this terrible discovery, her mother’s next words reached her.

‘When you leave on Saturday make sure you put your keys through the letterbox.’

In the circumstances she was facing, Cait couldn’t believe her mother was still expecting her to leave home so soon. She implored her, ‘Oh, but Mother, I’m not sure I can go it alone just now . . . Can’t I stay here for a little while longer at—’

Nerys cut in, ‘There’s no quicker way to get over a setback than keeping yourself busy, physically and mentally. Settling yourself in your own place is just the thing to do that. Staying off from work today, wallowing in self-pity, is not the way to get over a disappointment. You need to pull yourself together, Caitlyn. You’re eighteen in a few days and it’s about time you started acting like an adult, not a child always looking for sympathy.’

That was one thing she wasn’t doing – looking for sympathy where she knew she’d not get any. Cait felt she was not at all ready to make her own way in the world, but at least in her own place she could cry and wail as much as she needed without being made to feel she was being pathetic. She still did not want to move into the house that she and Neil had rented together, but as matters stood it seemed she had no choice until an alternative presented itself. Tomorrow, when she felt a little better, she would write a letter to him, telling him what she planned to do and that she would sort out the change of tenancy with the agents. As for the furniture and other items they had collected together, albeit mostly through presents from his relatives, hopefully he would donate it all to her as he had been the one to call their wedding off. Thinking of him, she felt a fresh flood of tears threaten and took several deep breaths to fight them away, knowing if she did allow them to flow she would only irritate her mother further and receive more unsympathetic words from her, and she’d had enough already.

She asked, ‘How long will you and Father be away?’

Nerys looked at her blankly. ‘For as long as we need to be.’

‘But . . . but what about me, Mother?’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘What about you?’

‘Well, if you and Father aren’t here, that will mean I’ll be spending Christmas and my birthday on my own.’

Nerys eyed her sharply. ‘How selfish you are to be thinking of yourself when your father’s health is at risk.’ There was a knock on the front door. ‘That’ll be the taxi. Dalby!’ she called sharply. An elderly woman wearing a working dress with a faded wraparound apron over the top, her iron-grey hair cut in a short bob and secured behind her ears with kirby grips, came scurrying out of the kitchen. Nerys instructed her, ‘Answer the door to the driver and inform him we won’t be a moment, then take the luggage out for him to load.’ As the older woman hurried to obey her orders, Nerys told her daughter, ‘Go and tell your father that the taxi is here. He’s in our bedroom. And don’t let the taxi driver see you still dressed like this at this time in the morning.’

Cait turned and ran back up the stairs, out of eyeshot of anyone standing at the front door. She called down to her mother, ‘How do I contact you while you’re away?’

‘You won’t be able to. We’re going on a tour of the Middle East and will be moving around a lot. Now, I asked you to fetch your father.’

Her sense of loneliness mounted as she went off to do her mother’s bidding. Arriving outside her parents’ bedroom door, she raised her hand to rap on it just as her father opened it and came out, dressed for travel in a camel cashmere heavy coat over a smart grey wool suit, handmade shoes on his feet, obviously having heard the taxi arrive. He greeted Cait, in his thin weedy voice, with, ‘Bring my travel bag down.’

She picked it up and followed him back down the stairs. As she handed it to him in the hallway, she said, ‘I hope you have a nice time on your holiday, Father.’

‘I’m sure I shall,’ he responded shortly as he turned and headed out of the door.

Her mother meanwhile had disappeared into the living room and Cait heard the sound of the key turning in the writing bureau, informing her that Nerys had collected something from inside it. She returned to the hall just as Agnes Dalby came puffing back in after several trips conveying the luggage to the taxi driver to stow away.

Nerys held out a brown envelope towards her employee. ‘This is your pay to date. I shall contact you when we get back so that you may resume your duties.’

The older woman looked at the envelope, befuddled for a moment, before she fixed quizzical eyes on her employer and said, ‘Er . . . you’re laying me off while you’re away then, Mrs Thomas?’

Nerys gave a snort of derision. ‘I’m sure you don’t expect me to pay you for sitting around doing nothing.’

With that she turned and walked out of the front door, leaving her daughter and employee staring blankly after her.

A minute or so later, Agnes Dalby was sitting at the worn pine table, sipping on a cup of hot strong tea. She was inwardly seething. Mrs Thomas was well aware that the wage she paid her, which could hardly be classed as generous, was badly needed to supplement her widow’s pension and enable her to survive, yet she had thoughtlessly dispensed with her services while she was away and expected Agnes to come scurrying back as soon as she was summoned on their return. How Agnes wished that meantime she could manage to get herself another job so that she would have the great pleasure of telling Mrs Thomas where she could stick hers. The chances of that were slim, though, as few people were willing to take on a woman two years past retirement age, no matter if she was still spritely for her years.

From the first day she had started working for Mrs Thomas and experienced the way she treated those she employed Agnes had deeply regretted applying for the position, but at the time she’d been recently widowed, traumatised by the loss of her beloved husband and, with no skills other than the ones she had acquired caring for her family, had been grateful to be given a job of any kind when she had little money coming in. Despite looking for alternative employment over the years with people who would better appreciate her, she was always pipped to the post by someone younger or with better qualifications. Several years ago Agnes had accepted the fact that unless a miracle happened she was stuck with Mrs Thomas until it was impossible for her to work any longer. Thankfully, over the years she’d had the sense to put away whatever she could spare for a rainy day. It seemed that had arrived so at least she would be able to ride out her monetary famine until her employer returned, so long as she was careful with it.

Movement nearby caught Agnes’s attention and out of the corner of her eyes she watched Caitlyn Thomas, back against the sink, face the picture of misery, swallow two aspirin tablets with water. Agnes had mixed feelings about the young woman. She treated Agnes with little or no respect, but then she was only acting towards her as her mother did. She hadn’t been taught any better. The girl had been very young when Agnes first came to work for the Thomases just after they had moved here in fact. The child had been such a happy and contented little thing then, reminding her very much of her own daughter, Gladys, who had been just like her as a baby and, under her parents’ guidance and nurturing, had grown up into a very kind and thoughtful woman. Unfortunately for Caitlyn, she’d been born to the kind of parents who, in Agnes’s opinion, were totally self-absorbed and obviously saw their child as an inconvenience. It had distressed her greatly to witness the way that Mr Thomas barely acknowledged his child’s existence, and Mrs Thomas’s idea of motherhood was doing the absolute basics for her daughter and nothing more, and even those had halted as soon as the child was old enough to take on the tasks for herself.

Agnes had lost count of the number of times she had had to restrain herself from going up to the nursery when the child’s cries went unanswered. Her mother was otherwise occupied with her father, and Mrs Thomas never dropped anything for anyone when her husband was in need of her attention. Agnes wanted to scoop the child up into her own arms and just cuddle her, something she knew the girl was starved of. She dare not, though, in case she was perceived as taking liberties. All she could do was turn a deaf ear to the cries and immerse herself in her work.

The Thomases were an odd couple, to her way of thinking. Mr Thomas she didn’t have much to do with so really couldn’t make much of. She only saw him in passing as she was performing her duties around the house, and the most she got out of him was a curt good morning or afternoon in that whiny voice of his, and then he would act as if she wasn’t there while she carried on her work around him. It had always been a source of great curiosity to Agnes, though, that a woman like Nerys Thomas, who was very attractive with film-star looks in the mould of Elizabeth Taylor, and could have had her pick of men, had settled for a wishy-washy dull little man like Samuel Thomas. But she clearly doted on him, pampered and fussed over him as if he was a china doll, and he certainly lapped up the attention he received and doted as much back on her. For Agnes it was quite nauseating to witness the way they would snuggle close together, she smoothing a tender hand down the side of his face, him simpering back at her. To her it wasn’t natural that two people should be entirely caught up with one another, so much so that if one died she had a feeling the other wouldn’t last long.

What she couldn’t understand either was the way Mrs Thomas hardly ever left the house, except to go to the beauty parlour, clothes shopping, to the library once a week to collect books for them both, and once a month on a Wednesday out for a couple of hours – though where she went, Agnes had no idea. They loved their garden, which was looked after by a man who came in three times a week, and in fine weather would sit together in the shade of the oak tree reading their books, and in winter wrap up warm and link arms, taking slow strolls around the grounds. Apart from that, neither of the Thomases seemed interested at all in the outside world. This holiday they were taking had come as a great surprise to Agnes as during her time with them they had never travelled before. The concern about Mr Thomas’s health must be serious then. To her knowledge they had no friends and made no effort whatsoever to make any. After they’d moved in fifteen years ago, when Agnes had first started employment with them, she had witnessed neighbours round about soon getting the message that any invitations they made to the Thomases would not be taken up, and they’d certainly receive none back. It seemed to Agnes that they were content in their own little world together and neither needed nor welcomed anyone else into it, not even their own daughter.

She was sincerely sorry about the fact that the young woman’s marriage had been called off. From what she had glimpsed of Neil when she had answered the door to him, he seemed a very personable sort and Cait herself was clearly besotted with him. However had she managed to explain the reason why he was never invited inside the house, except for once when she had persuaded her parents to allow her to introduce her future husband to them? Agnes had been present, serving the tea, and was struck by the lack of interest the Thomases showed in their daughter’s fiancé or in the wedding plans. But from the little she had observed of the way Cait was with Neil, Agnes herself hadn’t been surprised that he had called off the wedding. She had never come across a man except for Samuel Thomas who seemed to thrive on having his life organised for him by a woman. She had desperately wanted to take Cait aside and warn her that she could lose her intended through her suffocating behaviour towards him, but she had not dared to do so for the sake of her job.

What was really making Agnes’s blood boil now was the glaring truth that the Thomases had never had any intention of attending their daughter’s wedding. Holidays abroad took a lot of planning so organising this trip must have started many weeks or even months ago. It was apparent from Cait’s reaction this morning that she’d had no idea of this state of affairs. If the wedding hadn’t been called off, she would have gone off to work this morning, excited at the prospect of her wedding in a few days’ time, only to come home tonight to discover her parents gone. What kind of selfish, thoughtless people acted so despicably to their own child? And if their actions weren’t terrible enough, Mrs Thomas herself had been closeted in her bedroom early this morning, making telephone calls, and Agnes had become aware what they were about when Nerys finally emerged and instructed her to box up the wedding gown and bridesmaids’ dresses plus the accessories. She had fetched them from Cait’s room while she’d still been asleep this morning, ready for collection by a delivery man for return to the suppliers, Nerys obviously meaning to recoup the money she had laid out for them.

And as if that wasn’t enough for the young girl to be coping with, the Thomases were still expecting her to leave home and make her own way in the world! Agnes was at a loss to understand just why Mrs Thomas would so blatantly want rid of her own daughter. It wasn’t like she was much trouble or they had cramped living conditions and needed the space. In truth Agnes should be glad that with Caitlyn gone from the household it would be one less person for her to be cooking for and clearing up after, but in light of her memories of the sweet-natured child she’d first encountered all those years ago, who’d the potential to grow into a lovely young woman given a little love and encouragement, she couldn’t help but feel deeply worried about and sorry for her.

Seeing Caitlyn now looking utterly desolate, Agnes couldn’t help but offer the young girl some kind words.

‘Forgive me if you think I’m being impertinent, Miss Thomas, as I don’t intend to be, but I’m very sorry to hear your wedding is off.’ She immediately wished she hadn’t spoken as she could plainly tell the young woman was fighting desperately with herself not to break down in front of her. Agnes was well aware that her mother had instilled in Cait the belief that displays of emotion were vulgar. She had to stop herself from going over and putting an arm around the young woman, offering her some comfort, but that would definitely be deemed as stepping out of her place.

Agnes tried to find something positive to say in an effort to cheer her up. ‘I’m sorry too that you’ll be leaving the house. But having your own place, you’ll be able to stay out as late as you like and have no one waiting up worrying about your whereabouts and giving you a telling off when you get home.’ Then she could have bitten out her tongue as the look that clouded Caitlyn’s face told Agnes what she herself should have known. The Thomases hadn’t cared enough about her to do any such thing.

Deep down, Cait very much appreciated Agnes’s efforts to make her feel better. In fact, she would have liked nothing more than to throw herself into the old woman’s arms, feel her wipe away her tears and tell her that everything would be all right, but if it ever got back to her mother’s ears then she’d suffer Nerys’s displeasure. So Cait merely informed Agnes that she was going back to bed and left the kitchen.

Once she had tidied up there was no reason for Agnes to remain here any longer, considering she wasn’t being paid. She should be on her way. She’d never had a complete day off in all the years she had worked for the Thomases and would have no trouble filling the days ahead, but she couldn’t help but worry how the young mistress was going to cope on her own, facing the prospect she was. She hadn’t eaten today and whether she would be bothered to make herself something, considering the dejected mood she was in, greatly concerned Agnes. You shouldn’t grieve on an empty stomach, in her opinion. Caitlyn was capable of putting a sandwich together for herself but anything more than that was beyond her as Mrs Thomas had never thought to make it her business to ensure she could cook even the basics, or was equipped to tackle any other household tasks come to that. Putting a meal together for her to heat up later wouldn’t take Agnes long and, all her motherly instincts rising to the fore, she decided to do that before she left.

A very short while later, lying in a foetal position, bedclothes cocooned around her, pillowcase soaked with tears, Cait heard the back door closing as Mrs Dalby took her leave. The house fell deathly silent and a dark cloud of loneliness clamped itself around Cait.