Staying Away at Christmas (3 page)

Miranda knew where she was going. The girls had told her about this little ruined building up on the cliffs that had a wonderful view of the village and the harbour beyond. Then they’d taken her there with a picnic. Isa had pretended to be blasé about it but Lulu had loved it. She had taken a rug up there one day and spent hours looking out at the world and reading. If Lulu had told Amy about it and Amy was prone to running off it might easily be where she had headed.

As she walked, her eyes grew accustomed to the light level, and it didn’t seem nearly so dark. There was a moon somewhere behind the clouds and a few stars pricked through.

Miranda turned off the torch and put it in her pocket. She wanted both hands free in case she stumbled and needed to stop herself falling. She wished she’d brought a walking stick – there was a collection of them in the utility room along with the torches. Just for a second she allowed herself to think about how she would feel if she had to come back alone. She was sick with worry now but how much worse to be sick with despair.

She reached the brow of the hill at last and had to walk the same distance again to get to the building.
She
could see its outline now and thought she glimpsed a light in it. Then she realised it was probably just her imagination. She was hoping to see a light, that was all.

When she was on the flat she started to run. She had to know as soon as possible if Amy was in the look-out building. If she wasn’t then she, Miranda, should be somewhere else, not wasting her time on random notions.

As she got closer she realised there was indeed a light but it was intermittent and even when it was on it was very faint. She tried to go faster but she wasn’t a runner and already sweat was running down her spine. She was hampered by her heavy coat too.

At last she got there. She dug for her torch in her pocket and switched it on. ‘Amy?’ she called, as she wriggled through the narrow doorway.

Miranda could see the little girl crouching there, her eyes wide and frightened. She was clutching one of those key-ring torches you had to hold on. ‘Hello,’ she said huskily.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Miranda.

‘Not really,’ said Amy after a few seconds and Miranda could tell she’d been crying. ‘I came here
because
it sounded so lovely and then I remembered I didn’t know the way back.’

‘Well, you did the right thing, staying put,’ said Miranda, rummaging in her pocket for a sweet. ‘Here,’ she said, handing her one.

Amy took it. ‘Is everyone very angry with me? I know I shouldn’t have done it but sometimes I feel I have to be on my own.’

‘You could have been on your own without scaring us all,’ said Miranda, trying to sound calm.

‘I know, but it’s better if I can just go.’

‘Not for your dad,’ said Miranda.

Amy put her head in her hands and began to cry.

Miranda longed to take her in her arms and hug her, tell her how no one was angry and would just be pleased she was found. But she didn’t know Amy and didn’t know how Anthony would react. Some parents did want to beat their children about the head with relief when they reappeared after an absence. She wasn’t like that herself but it was a common reaction.

‘Let’s tell him you’re found, shall we?’ Then she realised, in spite of all their plans and precautions, she’d forgotten to put his number in her phone. She sent Isa a text instead asking her to tell Dan, who could tell his father.

‘Shall we go back now?’ Amy nodded.

The two of them walked along the path that Miranda had run down just a short time before. How different this journey back was! She just hoped that Anthony had got the news that Amy was safe by now.

‘Dad does get angry,’ Amy said quietly, a little later.

Miranda chose her words. ‘When someone you love very much goes missing you do get angry because you’re so worried about them.’

‘I hate it when they shout.’

‘Who?’

‘Dad and Dan. I hate it when there’s a row.’

‘Was that why you went? Because they were rowing?’ She hadn’t heard anything herself, but she’d been engrossed in
Celebrity Come Dine with Me Christmas Special
.

‘They were going to. I could hear Dan getting rude and Dad hates that.’

Miranda didn’t have sons but felt that like daughters with their mothers, there was bound to be challenging behaviour. Which meant rows. ‘I think if you came home safely they’d be so thrilled, they wouldn’t think of rowing.’

‘Dad will shout at me.’

‘I won’t let him,’ said Miranda rashly, wondering what on earth her chances were of preventing a man she didn’t know reacting in a way that was normal for him.

‘Could you stop him?’ Amy sounded doubtful too.

‘I might not be able to stop him entirely but I promise you I’ll get him to stop really quickly. Once I explain how you feel and it being Christmas, he won’t want to shout.’

The little girl shivered and Miranda put her arm round her. ‘Let’s hurry!’

‘If you promise it’ll be all right?’

‘I promise,’ said Miranda but her fingers were crossed in her pocket. She wasn’t in a position to promise really but she wanted to get Amy back to her family as soon as possible.

Amy held the torch as they increased their pace. Miranda felt her phone vibrate and saw there was a text from Isa. She paused just long enough to read it. ‘Dan’s dad knows she’s safe. See you soon.’

Suddenly there was a gust of wind, blowing away the clouds and revealing a bright full moon. Stars appeared too and one, fairly low, seemed to settle across the bay, shining over the hills.

‘Look, Amy!’ said Miranda. ‘Look at that star!’

‘It’s like the Star of Bethlehem!’ Amy said in awe. ‘It’s magic!’

They stopped to look at it, Miranda with her arm round Amy’s shoulders and just then, the sound of singing came wafting up the valley. It took a few moments but then Miranda recognised it.

‘It’s “Once in Royal”,’ she said.

‘Yes! I wish it was “O Little Town of Bethlehem”,’ said Amy.

‘They might sing that in a minute. I think they’ve just come out of the pub. Let’s walk along to their rhythm – it’ll get us home quicker.’

The sound grew nearer and they heard rich male voices singing familiar melodies. Amy took hold of Miranda’s hand and although she couldn’t be certain, she felt the little girl was happy again, her anxiety swept away by the moonlight, the twinkling stars and the sound of carols. As the party of carollers grew nearer they could see pinpricks of light. They were obviously carrying lanterns. It was, Miranda thought, the perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve.

They were on the way down the drive, nearly back, when Miranda felt Amy freeze beside her.

‘You promise I won’t get into trouble?’ she said desperately, clinging to Miranda’s hand, her voice tense with anxiety.

‘Sweetheart,’ said Miranda. ‘I can’t absolutely promise there won’t be – say – one or two shouts, but then it will be over. Your father will be thrilled to see you. That I absolutely guarantee.’

Still the little girl wouldn’t move.

‘Come on, honey, you stand behind me.’ Without giving Amy more time to get anxious Miranda dragged her forward and opened the door. Then she thrust her behind her. ‘Amy’s back!’ she called. ‘I found her at the look-out point.’

Anthony appeared, mobile in hand. ‘She’s here!’ he said loudly into it and threw it on the stairs.

‘Now really,’ said Miranda, who could feel Amy pulling away behind her, ‘you mustn’t shout at her!’ She was looking intently at Anthony and for a moment caught a glimpse of the desperate father, worried sick about his daughter, drawing breath to relieve his tension by letting her know, loudly, exactly how worried he’d been. She held his gaze, willing him to take a few seconds before speaking.

‘Amy, sweetheart, we were worried,’ he said calmly, and Amy threw herself into his arms.

Miranda had gone into the kitchen to give father and daughter time alone when she suddenly remembered the lasagne and garlic bread she’d put into the oven who knew how long before. It was unlikely Dan had remembered to do anything about it. She pulled open the oven door thinking that burnt offerings were the last thing people needed when she saw that the lasagne was golden brown and perfect. She pulled put the garlic bread and unwrapped the end. That wasn’t burnt either.

Dan, who had been greeting his sister in the hall, came in. ‘I kept an eye on it for you. It should be OK.’

‘Bless you! It would have been so awful if it had all been burnt.’ Anthony came in just then. ‘Dan has saved the day,’ she said. ‘Or rather the dinner.’

Anthony put his hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Whatever their differences had been they were over for the time being.

Miranda waited for a couple of moments. ‘Where’s Amy?’

‘She’s upstairs with the girls. Isa is giving her a bath.’ Anthony sighed. ‘I’ll have to have a talk with her later. She’s done this before and it’s so
terrifying
. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for finding her.’

‘It was just lucky I had an idea where she might have gone. Really, it was nothing.’

‘Rarely, if ever, has that word been used so inappropriately,’ he said and then smiled.

Miranda felt as if the sun had come out just for her. Her stomach flipped over and it was only with a huge effort of will was she able to remind herself that all this warmth was gratitude for finding his daughter. It wasn’t personal.

‘I think we should eat as soon as the girls appear,’ she said, hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt.

‘Give the girls a shout,’ said Anthony as Dan left the room.

‘You can relax now and have another drink. You deserve it. I see you have lemons – I’ll make you one of my famous hot toddies.’

Shortly afterwards he put a glass into her hand. ‘Now, go and sit down and rest. We’ll do dinner from here.

She was nursing the drink which was so fantastically strong and lemony she could practically
feel
it killing germs as it went down her throat, when Isa appeared.

‘Well done, Mum, for finding Amy.’

‘Thank you, darling, but it was Lulu who gave me the tip. Is Amy OK now?’

‘Yeah, she’ll be fine. She and Lulu are playing happily – you know, little girls’ stuff.’ She smiled at her mother, then said, ‘Shall I set the table?’

This was almost unheard of. Setting the table was Isa’s least favourite job and she usually had to be blackmailed or bribed into doing it. ‘That would be lovely. I’ve got some Christmas napkins in one of the bags.’

‘Will there be enough for tomorrow if we use them now?’ Then Isa raised her eyes to heaven. ‘Don’t tell me – you’ve got two sorts.’

Miranda laughed. ‘Really, my little napkin obsession is quite harmless.’

Her daughter laughed too. ‘I suppose it is.’

Ten minutes later they were all seated round the large, dining-room table. ‘Well, this is very nice,’ said Anthony, sounding, to Miranda’s annoyance, slightly surprised.

Amy was in her dressing gown and everyone was eating the lasagne with enthusiasm, which gave Miranda a pleasant glow of achievement.

‘What would you have done if we hadn’t been here?’ asked Dan.

‘Sorry?’ Miranda didn’t think he was being rude but couldn’t be sure. She had very little experience of boys. He’d been so helpful up till now.

‘I mean, there’d have been a lot left over if we hadn’t been here to eat it,’ he said.

‘There’d have been a lot left over full stop,’ said Isa. ‘Mum always cooks too much. She can’t help it.’

‘Thank you, Isa,’ Miranda said good-humouredly.

‘I’m glad you made too much,’ said Amy.

‘So am I,’ said Anthony.

‘Me too,’ said Dan, with a surprisingly charming smile.

‘I think we should discuss our Christmas Day routines,’ said Miranda, wanting to move on from the lasagne.

‘Stockings, walk, then presents, then lunch,’ said Lulu.

‘We don’t have stockings,’ said Dan.

There was a gasp of shock from Isa and Lulu but Miranda was relieved they didn’t actually say anything.

‘Too much for Dad,’ said Amy. ‘He says he can’t be doing with such a commercialised myth.’

Anthony nodded. ‘I’m afraid that’s true.’

It had sounded like a direct quote. Miranda’s girls looked at each other with a mixture of absolute horror and compassion.

‘OK, so what do you do?’ asked Miranda.

‘Dad makes breakfast and then we go to my aunt’s,’ said Dan. ‘We open our presents and then have lunch.’

‘Before that there’s a row about the turkey,’ said Amy, with a shudder.

‘Aunt Flo puts it in the Aga at midnight on Christmas Eve – before sometimes I reckon – and so by lunchtime it’s turned to sawdust,’ Dan explained, disapproval evident in every syllable.

‘Right,’ said Miranda.

‘Dad cooks a great breakfast though,’ conceded Dan.

‘I know Flo isn’t a great cook but it’s very kind of her to have us every year,’ said Anthony.

Dan sighed. This was obviously not a new argument.

‘What do you do after lunch?’ asked Miranda.

‘Wash up. It takes forever,’ said Dan.

‘Then we watch telly while the adults sleep,’ said Amy.

‘Sounds, like, really good,’ said Isa, catching Dan’s eye. He flicked his eyebrow in reply.

‘We’ll have to think up something that suits us all,’ said Miranda, shocked about the stockings herself. Her girls seemed to like them the best of all the Christmas rituals.

‘Yeah,’ said Dan with surprising firmness.

‘Have we all finished?’ said Anthony a few moments later. ‘Get the plates together, guys.’

‘Would anyone like pudding?’ said Miranda, having handed her plate to Amy. ‘I’ve got ice cream. I expect I could make some sort of sauce …’

‘I have some very nice cheese,’ said Anthony.

‘Oh, much better,’ said Miranda. ‘Will you lot be OK with cheese?’

‘I’ll have ice cream but I can get it myself,’ said Lulu. ‘Amy, would you like some? Shall we go and get it? We can put drinking chocolate on it.’

‘It’s nice for Amy to have some female company,’ said Anthony when he’d brought in the cheese and biscuits and the younger girls were still making ice-cream concoctions in the kitchen.