Nightmare. She’d barely stayed five minutes to look at her new grandchild, she never offered to babysit when she came to stay and, when the others had arrived in quick succession, had made sarcastic comments about living beyond your means. If it weren’t for Cat’s incredible generosity and insistence that he should keep on good terms with his mother, Noel might have been tempted to cut her out of his life altogether.
Noel knew from Kay that his mother had felt let down that he hadn’t been around more to help sort out his dad’s estate, but at the time he’d been the only member of the family tied down with children of his own. Besides, he hadn’t expected her to sell up and move out of the family home so quickly. In his darker moments he thought Kay had engineered things so that their mum would give her some cash as a down payment on her first flat, but Cat had accused him of being paranoid.
The final nail in the coffin had been the discovery that, in his mother’s determination to cut loose and start again, she’d got rid of all Dad’s war memorabilia—including his medals—without telling him or Joe. How she could have done that was beyond him. Noel had always been aware that his parents didn’t enjoy the happiest of marriages, but that seemed spiteful beyond belief. The resulting row when he’d told her so had taken several years to recover from. And it was only now (mainly at Cat’s insistence) that he was beginning to see a bit more of his mother again. Every time she came, he hoped she wasn’t going to stay long. But, for someone who exuded displeasure at her surroundings from every pore, Granny Nighmare also seemed quite happy to ensconce herself in situ for days and sometimes weeks at a time.
‘I see you’ve still not mended that shelf,’ were his mother’s first words on entering the playroom. One day he really would get round to fixing it.
‘I’m afraid it’s not really a priority at the moment,’ said Noel between gritted teeth. ‘Why don’t you go down to the kitchen and see Cat, while I put your bags upstairs?’
He knew it was a copout, that he was being unfair to Cat, but somehow her toleration of his mother outreached his own and, within seconds of seeing her, she’d already got him riled.
He dug the children out of their respective foxholes—instinctively they’d all vanished when their grandmother arrived—and went to put his mother’s things in the spare room. Cat had spent hours cleaning it, and had even found a vase to put daffodils in, but Noel knew from bitter experience there was bound to be something wrong with the room. The only thing his mother seemed to tolerate about coming here was Ruby. Which was ironic as, being the youngest, she was also the most hard work and the one most likely to have a tantrum.
Noel made his way downstairs with a heavy heart. He could already hear his mother quizzing poor Melanie about her school grades (not, as it happened, as good as they should have been, but she’d had problems settling into her new school), and picking on James for not being sporty like his Uncle Joe. It was going to be a very long week.
‘I saved you a seat,’ Gabriel whispered to Marianne as she snuck in at the back of the second public meeting about the post office campaign. Impressively, Vera had managed to inveigle the MP for South Salop to come and speak on their behalf. He’d given an impassioned speech about the future of rural post offices and promised to raise the matter in the House. Gabriel had his doubts as to whether Mr Silent, a backbench Lib Dem, could actually make any impact, but at least he’d turned up, which was more than the MP from the neighbouring constituency had done—but then it was his government’s policies which were leading to such closures, so he probably wouldn’t be seen anywhere near a meeting like this.
No one from the Post Office had come either, which was no surprise. To Gabriel’s amusement, Vera had installed a cardboard cutout of Postman Pat. Someone was filming the meeting and planning to put it on YouTube. Very droll.
‘Have I missed anything?’ Marianne whispered.
‘Only John Silent’s fight ’em on the beaches speech,’ said Gabriel.
Vera had now got up and was thanking them all for coming again.
‘I’ve got good news and bad news,’ she began. ‘The good news is that we have nearly 15,000 signatures on our Downing Street petition,’ (this raised a cheer) ‘the bad news is that I can’t get hold of anyone from the Post Office to come and meet with us and discuss a compromise. So we’ve decided to take the issue to them. And we’re planning a trip to London to visit the Post Office headquarters, as well as presenting our petition at 10 Downing Street. We’d like as many of you to sign up for this as possible, of course. Thanks to Ralph Nicholas, who has several friends in the media, we’re hoping to get some national coverage to raise our campaign further.’
‘Blimey,’ said Marianne, ‘that sounds impressive.’
‘Good for Vera,’ whispered Gabriel. ‘I never knew she had it in her.’
‘Well, you know what they always say about the quiet ones,’ said Marianne. The room was so packed her and Gabriel’s chairs were so close together their knees were nearly touching. She shifted a little in her seat to move away from him. She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.
The meeting soon broke up, with people going to sign up for the London trip and promising to write more letters of protest. Marianne found herself agreeing to take minutes of the next meeting, while Gabriel, having confessed to an interest in Photoshop, discovered he was now going to be running an entire poster campaign.
‘Honestly, this village is hopeless,’ said Gabriel. ‘Give an inch and they take a mile.’
‘That’s what public service is all about,’ sniffed Miss Woods, as she stumped by with her stick. ‘We need more altruism in this world, not less.’
‘True,’ said Marianne, laughing. She picked up her coat and started heading for the door.
‘You’re not staying for a drink?’ Gabriel felt a sudden stab of disappointment.
‘Oh, um,’ Marianne looked awkward.‘I hadn’t really given it any thought.’
‘It doesn’t matter if you’ve got plans,’ Gabriel said in a rush. ‘It’s just everyone else is going and I thought—’
‘No, I don’t have any other plans,’ said Marianne, ‘a drink would be lovely.’
They made their way into the Hopesay Arms, the friendly local, which was cram-full of regulars and so busy it was three-deep at the bar.
‘I’ll get these,’ offered Gabriel. ‘What’s your poison?’
‘Half of lager,thanks,’said Marianne.‘I’ll look for a table.’
‘This is cosy,’ said Gabriel when he arrived eventually at the fireside table that Marianne had found.
‘Oh, I didn’t want you to think…’ Marianne blushed. ‘This was the only place I could find.’
‘Here’s fine,’ said Gabriel. He sipped at his beer, and there was a momentary awkward silence, before he said: ‘So, how does Hope Christmas compare to London, then?’
‘I love it,’ said Marianne. ‘Even though I grew up in London, I’ve never really felt like a city person. From the moment I came here I felt like I’d come home. Does that sound odd to you?’
‘Nope,’ said Gabriel. ‘I moved to London for work originally, then stayed for Eve’s sake, but my
