Page 50 of Home This Christmas

‘Why on earth would you go to all that fuss?’

I unwrap a chocolate from a box of Quality Street as I listen to the presenter on the television, as they show viewers how to upgrade cheap Christmas crackers.

I’m enjoying my day off from the local cinema where I work, and have spent an enjoyable morning watching the endless festive craft shows, listening to Christmas tunes on the radio, and adorning the house with pretty decorations.

As I glance around the cosy room, I feel rather proud of my efforts.

I’ve chosen a traditional colour scheme of red, gold and green.

The garland on the banister is my favourite thing of all, threaded with holly berries, little robins and gold baubles – it makes me smile every time I step onto the flagstone floor in the hall.

Ellie helped with the decorating, even though she had tried to persuade me to try the current trend of grey and pink that we’d spotted when out shopping in town the previous week.

I declined. I quite like keeping up with current trends, but I wasn’t about to completely desert tradition. Santa will always be red in our house.

As I lounge around in my soft, grey velour tracksuit, my shoulder-length blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail, enjoying my day off, I’m captivated by the shimmering baubles, placed artistically on branches.

The white angel, hand-knitted by my friend Cassie, smiles down at me with her little red woollen mouth, sitting proudly at the top of the real fir tree bought from a farm down the road.

One thing about living in a small village is that the local farm sells fir trees at Christmas and pumpkins at Halloween, the illuminated pumpkins being quite a sight when the locals display them outside their houses throughout the month of October.

I really ought to be using the time to go through the tall larder cupboard in the kitchen and throw out the jars of cranberry and chutneys, some of which are probably still there from last Christmas.

I was planning on going for a walk with my friend Helen, from the Penny Farthing pub, this afternoon but she texted me earlier to say she’d sprained her ankle, so there’s really no excuse for me not to be sorting out those cupboards.

I’ve been putting off them doing for weeks.

‘Who are you talking to, Mum?’ My daughter Ellie is smiling as she enters the room, having just arrived home from school.

Ellie, who people say is a miniature version of me, with the same large, green eyes and natural blonde hair, drops her school bag onto a chair, before flopping down next to me on the couch. She smells of cold, crisp air and school corridors.

‘This woman on the telly,’ I tell her. ‘She’s showing people how to make fancy crackers by tying velvet ribbon around cheap ones and inserting better quality toys into the centre.’

‘Why wouldn’t you just buy a box of posh crackers in the first place?’ says Ellie, rolling her eyes.

‘My thoughts exactly! So how was your day at school?’ I ask.

‘Fine.’ Ellie shrugs as she helps herself to the chocolate with the purple wrapper from the tin.

I hadn’t expected anything other than ‘fine’, to be honest. Ellie never tells me much these days.

I know she is keeping up with her studies though, courtesy of the online school system that I log into occasionally, just to make sure.

She’s leaving school this summer after her GCSEs and attending sixth form, although in truth I’m surprised she’s on track to make the required grades.

I rarely witness her doing any actual studying.

‘What do you fancy for tea?’ I ask, popping the lid onto the tin of chocolates.

Glancing at the pile of discarded cellophane sweet wrappers, I might need to rein myself in, otherwise I’ll need to get a larger size of the dress I’m going to buy for the cinema Christmas party.

‘Unless you fancy a wander into town later?’ I add.

‘There’s a Christmas market stall that sells the most amazing pulled pork rolls.

Maybe we could have a Baileys hot chocolate too, as it’s Christmas? ’

‘Umm… no, thanks, Mum. I don’t really like Baileys.’ Ellie pulls a face.

‘You could have a hot chocolate with marshmallows,’ I venture, although it is obvious Ellie has already made up her mind.

‘I’ll pass. I’m going out later anyway,’ she informs me.

‘Oh, right, okay. Anywhere nice?’

‘A few of us are just going to hang out near the ice rink in town.’ Ellie shrugs.

‘Right, okay. Be careful, though. Give me a ring when you want a lift home,’ I offer.

It’s a twenty-minute bus ride into the city centre, and, as most of her friends live in or close to the centre, I worry about her getting home to our small village as the last bus stops around nine o’clock in the evening. And it’s pitch-black at five.

‘Mum, I’ll be with my friends. Stop being such a worrier. Anyway, I’ll be going to Izzy’s afterwards; her mum will probably give me a lift. If not, I’ll call you.’

Ellie grabbed a packet of crisps from the cupboard and bounded upstairs and left me with a sudden, and, perhaps, selfish feeling of disappointment.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that my sixteen-year-old daughter was slipping away from me, hurtling into an adult world that didn’t include her mother.

I’d naively imagined us going on shopping trips together and having a wander around the cosy Christmas market this year, looking at the wooden toys and hand-crafted gifts, maybe having a bite to eat.

Then again, what teenager behaved like that?

It would maybe take a good few years for Ellie to mature and appreciate mother-and-daughter time, as, on reflection, I would never have gone out with my mother in the evening when I was my daughter’s age.

Not when there were groups of friends to hang out with, that usually included good-looking boys.

I decide to crack on with the cupboard clearing, as I’ve had a nice, relaxed day, wrapping presents, watching TV and tidying a messy part of the fairly large garden.

The lawn is long and narrow, the fence panels painted a sage green, the same colour as the front door.

At the end of the garden is a huge ash tree that stretches out and overlooks some farmland beyond.

I filled the bird feeder full of seeds, but they seem to be emptying more quickly than usual, as squirrels are helping themselves too.

As always, I glanced around for the red robin that sometimes appears in the garden, but today there was no sign of it.

The redundant BBQ near the patio area is covered over for the winter and it made me think how quickly the seasons change.

It barely seems five minutes since I was sitting with family and friends soaking up the summer sun, which the south-facing garden is blessed with throughout the daylight hours.

Even early this morning, the winter sun streamed through the lounge windows, despite the frost on the grass.

After rinsing some out-of-date tins and jars, I place them in the recycling bin, and breathe in the frosty air outside, before quickly heading inside in search of a cardigan.

Despite the cold weather, I feel a little restless having been indoors all afternoon, so I’m still considering wrapping up well and heading into town.

I’m sitting pondering my next move, when my phone rings, and the caller display shows that it’s my friend Cassie.

I had been debating calling a couple of my friends in the village for a get-together here, which we do from time to time, but thought it was maybe too short notice.

Maybe I’ll have some company after all – the good thing about living in a village is that there is usually always someone to chat to, and neighbours very quickly become friends.

‘Hi, Sarah, how are you doing?’ says Cassie. She’s always bright and cheerful, and hearing her voice brings a smile to my face. ‘Fancy having a potter around town? There’s mulled wine at the Christmas market to warm us up!’

‘I absolutely would!’ I tell her. ‘I asked Ellie but she turned me down. I thought you were out with James tonight, or I would have called you.’

‘He’s had to work an extra shift. A couple of the staff have gone down with a sickness bug. He said he’ll make it up to me, which probably means he’ll bring a takeaway home after his shift.’ She laughs.

Cassie has been married to her husband, James, a paramedic, for twenty years and they’re still very much in love.

‘Great, shall we say six thirty? Meet you outside the coffee shop on Church Street?’

‘Okay. See you in a bit.’

I tap on Ellie’s bedroom door, only entering when she invites me in.

I think it’s fair to respect her privacy, although boys in her room are completely off-limits.

Eyeing a pile of clothes on her bed, I watch my daughter hold a black top against her, her slender legs clad in ripped denim jeans.

The top is sheer and ever so slightly low cut.

And entirely inappropriate for a night at the skating rink.

‘You’ll freeze to death in that,’ I tell her, not mentioning the fact that I think it looks far too sexy as I don’t want an argument before I leave.

‘I’ll be wearing a coat, Mother. I’m not stupid,’ Ellie replies, shaking her head at me.

‘There’s no need for the attitude, my girl, remember who you’re talking to.’

If there is one thing my daughter will have in life, it’s good manners and respect for her elders.

‘Anyway, I only came up to let you know that I’m meeting Cassie in town for one of those pork rolls. Make sure you have something to eat before you go out.’

‘I will. Enjoy your time with Cassie,’ she says, her voice softening a little.

‘Thanks. I’ll give you a lift if you’re ready in fifteen minutes.’ I glance at my watch. ‘The last bus will be leaving in half an hour.’

‘It’s okay, Mum. I’m not ready yet.’

The bus stop is only across the road, so I try not to worry that it’s getting dark already.

I tell Ellie that there is a pizza in the fridge she could heat up, and she tells me she will grab something in town with her friends.

I resist telling her that she should make sure she gets something warm inside her as it’s freezing outside before I grab my coat and scarf from a stand in the hall, and head out.