Running a slimming group near Christmas is a challenge to say the least. Everybody’s minds are firmly on the massive dinners and tubs of sweets they’re going to consume over the festive period, and I can’t say I blame them. The vast quantity of food is one of my favourite things about Christmas and I’m not about to tell anybody to deprive themselves.
‘I would say try and have everything in moderation,’ I say with a chuckle, ‘but who are we kidding? Christmas is about enjoying yourself, so I say you should do exactly that. Don’t worry about what the scales will say in January; just have fun with your family, be good to yourself, and come back ready to smash your targets in the New Year.’
My words get a round of applause from the group, who seem delighted to be given a couple of weeks off from their diet. If thought bubbles could appear above their heads, I bet I’d see turkeys, trifles, chocolates and cheesecakes floating in them. As they go and get ready for the workout session, which I’ll be leading today, my eyes find Natalie at the back of the room. She stands out in her tartan mini-skirt, knee-high boots and black polo neck jumper, all tied together with her uncomfortable expression. I can’t say I blame her for feeling ill at ease; the focus on weight loss might bring back tough memories of her own battle with anorexia. While the members are temporarily distracted, I make my way over to her to see if she’s OK.
‘So what do you think of the Carb Counters meeting?’ I ask.
She manages a weak smile and nods. ‘It’s … interesting anyway! I’m glad I came along now. So this is what you do every Wednesday?’
I notice her eyes travel around the community centre and her arms tighten around her torso.
‘That’s right,’ I reply. ‘I started out as a member a couple of years ago, but I trained as a leader last year so I could help people.’
Natalie doesn’t look too impressed and goes to sit on one of the chairs at the side. ‘It must be hard, running a slimming club when you’ve got issues of your own in the background.’
I bristle a little and take a step towards the stage for my workout routine. ‘It can be, but I’d like to think I manage just fine.’
She smiles, but I can tell it’s not a sincere one. ‘You know, I admire you Cleo. You could’ve had such a, well, different life if it weren’t for that awful car crash. But I take my hat off to you; you’ve made the most of a quaint little life here in Silverdale. People like Scott and I, we need the adventure and excitement, whereas you don’t. It’s lovely, really.’
I clench my fists as the baby starts treating my ribcage like a football. ‘I might not be a globetrotting supermodel like you, Natalie, but my life is still pretty exciting. It’ll certainly be exciting in a couple of months, when Scott and I have our baby.’
Leaving her with a sour look on her face, I flounce onto the stage to greet my waiting public.
*
The walk back across the village green is a frosty one, and not just because there’s snow in the air.
‘All right Natalie,’ I say now that we’re on our own. ‘What are you really doing here? I’m not buying the whole “let’s all have a wonderful Christmas together” thing.’
She doesn’t reply for a moment, just stares straight ahead at Larkspur Cottage and doesn’t meet my gaze.
‘Nothing gets past you does it?’ she says with a sad chuckle. ‘I’m not back here to steal Scott from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just … I miss what we had, you know? Ever since Marilyn had her accident, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him or what we had together. Don’t get me wrong, I know I don’t have a chance with him. He’s head over heels for you and he can’t wait to become a dad. His future’s with you, and I know that. I just … wanted to turn the clock back a bit for myself, you know? I was stupid to let him go all those years ago; he made me so happy and he was an amazing boyfriend.’
I pull my coat tighter around me, even though it’s already snug around my bump and keeping the cold out.
‘He’s not your boyfriend anymore though,’ I reply softly. ‘I know what you mean about wanting to turn the clock back because you loved the time you spent with him. But things have moved on since then, Natalie. He’s with me now and we’re going to be parents in a couple of months. I’m really happy to have you with us for Christmas, but I won’t have you causing any trouble OK? We’ll all just have a lovely time together. How does that sound?’
She nods, keeping her eyes lowered to the ground. ‘I meant what I said in the hospital. I won’t say anything to him about how I feel. He’s happy with you and I don’t want to derail that.’
I open my mouth to tell her we’re in a very happy place and that she couldn’t possibly ruin it, but I don’t. I’m not in the habit of tempting fate, after all. I can feel a fragile peace build between us as we approach the house. Maybe it’s possible for us to have a happy Christmas after all?
*
The next week could be lifted straight out of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Snow covers Silverdale, making it even more beautiful than usual, and I indulge in all my favourite festive activities: wrapping presents, making mulled wine (not for me, of course), and spending time with my family. I watch The Muppet Christmas Carol way more times than is strictly necessary, eat my body weight in candy canes, and relax for what feels like the first time in forever.
Natalie is a regular fixture at my house, of course. She joins us for movie nights, present-wrapping marathons and trips to the pub. Although her being there unsettles me a little – she could still confess her feelings for Scott at any time – I actually grow to enjoy her company.
‘Has she said anything to Scott yet?’ Emma murmurs during one of our visits to the Bell and Candle. ‘You know, about her being madly in love with him?’
I shake my head, hoping she can’t hear us from where she’s standing at the bar. ‘She’s told me she won’t, so hopefully she keeps to her word. She’s got a spring/summer shoot for a fashion website to do in London next week so she’s leaving the day after Boxing Day.’
Emma frowns. ‘I’ve never understood why they call it Boxing Day. Is it because you get rid of all the boxes from the presents you get?’
I chuckle and sip my orange juice. As Emma ponders the meaning of Boxing Day beside me, I think about the gift I’m going to give her. It’s one she’ll never see coming, but one I’m sure she’ll absolutely love. I’m going to ask her to be my little girl’s godmother.
Now, if only Christmas Eve would hurry up and get here!
*
Luckily, I don’t have to wait too long. Christmas Eve arrives a few days later, bringing another huge blanket of snow with it. In preparation for everyone coming over to mine, I go into full nesting mode. I’m up at six o’clock in the morning baking cookies, getting my finger buffet ready, and cleaning the house from top to bottom.
Scott stumbles into the living room just after eight, rubbing his tired eyes and trying to sort his messy black mop out.
‘Cleo, what are you doing?’ he asks, his voice thick with sleep. ‘It’s way too early to be cleaning!’
‘Are you kidding?’ I say as I dust the coffee table for what must be the millionth time. ‘We’re having everyone over here tonight, I want to make sure the place is sparkling!’
I feel a pain in my belly, but ignore it. It’s probably the baby’s way of saying she’s not happy at being woken so early.
‘Are you OK?’ Scott asks when he notices me wince. ‘Do you need to sit down?’
I shake my head, but take a seat on the couch anyway. A couple of minutes’ rest won’t do me any harm.
‘I’m fine honestly. What do you want for breakfast? And what time’s Natalie getting here? Check out time at that hotel she’s staying in must be, what, eleven?’
He shrugs. ‘She hasn’t said, probably won’t be till later though. Knowing her, she’ll be meeting up with some friends for Christmas drinks or something.’
As long as she isn’t here declaring her undying love for you, she could be on a yacht in the Maldives for all I care.
‘So she probably won’t be here for breakfast then?’ I say, rising to my feet and feeling another sharp pain. ‘Do you fancy a fry-up?’
Scott looks at me, concern etched into his face. ‘You’ve been doing way too much this morning. Sit back down, I’m on breakfast duties. And if I see you with a duster or a tin of polish in your hand, there’ll be trouble!’
‘What kind of trouble?’ I tease. ‘I’m a bit too big for you to bend over your knee, you know.’
He pops his head back round the living room door. ‘I’ll think of something. I’m pretty creative when it comes to punishments.’
*
The stomach pains come and go throughout the day, but by the time mine and Scott’s families arrive I barely have time to notice them. Marilyn and Donald come bearing a lot of gifts, mostly for the baby, and they all seem to be in huge boxes that aren’t easy to store anywhere. Luckily, Scott’s on hand to do all the heavy lifting up to the now-fully furnished nursery.
‘Not long now,’ Marilyn says, putting a hand on my bump. ‘You must be so excited. I know I am! Have you considered maybe naming her after me, since she’s the first grandchild?’
I let out an uneasy chuckle. ‘It’s … on our list! Now I need to go and check the sausage rolls aren’t burning in the oven.’
I scurry off to the kitchen as quickly as I can, but can’t gather up much speed thanks to my humungous bump. The sausage rolls are doing absolutely fine, just like I knew they’d be, but I really don’t want to get into the whole ‘will you name the baby after me?’ debate with Marilyn.
Ouch. There goes another stomach pain.
‘Need any help in here?’ Mum appears at the kitchen doorway, and I manage to mask my pain just in time.
‘No, everything’s fine in here,’ I reply. ‘Have you got enough to eat and drink?’
She nods and comes over to me, setting her glass of wine down on the counter. Her eyes are slightly bloodshot and she’s swaying a little. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was a tad drunk.
‘Listen, Cleo … I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t very supportive about you having a baby in the beginning, with all that “don’t call me grandma” stuff and the nonsense with Marilyn. But I’ve put that all behind me now, and I can’t wait to be a granny next year. Granny Nina, reporting for duty!’
She goes for a salute, but stumbles backwards and almost falls flat on her bum. It’s only thanks to me grabbing her arm that she doesn’t end up on the floor. Pain sears across my stomach and I grit my teeth. Stupid Braxton-Hicks.
‘Are you alright?’ she says, narrowing her eyes. ‘You look like you’re in pain.’
I shake my head and wave a hand dismissively. ‘I’m fine, it’s nothing. Just more Braxton-Hicks, I think. I’ll be fine after I have a sit down with some sausage rolls and Christmas cake.’
‘Yoohoo, only me!’
I screw my eyes shut as I hear Natalie’s voice tinkle from the hall. She steps into the kitchen, looking a million dollars in a red dress trimmed with white fur. She’s every inch the sexy Mrs Claus, while I look like a very unappetising Christmas pudding in my maternity dress with reindeer on it.
‘Don’t you look cute!’ she says, gesturing to my dress and matching antlers on my head. ‘And this is a lovely spread!’
She grabs a single Scotch egg, pops it into her mouth, and makes her way to the living room to join the party.
Mum and I exchange knowing looks.
‘You know those people you wish you could hate, but they’re way too nice?’ I say. ‘She’s one of them!’
Mum chuckles. ‘Yup, I know exactly what you mean. You almost wish they had a huge character flaw so you could have an excuse not to like them.’
I walk over to the living room door and watch her mingle. Being in a crowd is so effortless for her, in a way that it’s never been for me. People gravitate towards her and it’s not hard to see why …
I don’t have much time to dwell on my thoughts after I’m hugged from behind by two separate sets of arms. I turn round and see Zara and Emma standing in front of me, bearing brightly coloured gift bags.
‘Hey you two, thanks for coming!’ I say, stretching my arms as wide as I can to envelop them in a hug of my own. ‘There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, so help yourselves!’
Zara stays behind, while Emma goes to see what culinary delights are on offer.
‘I just thought I’d let you know that Craig asked for another chance last week, and I told him to do one,’ she says with a proud smile. ‘You’re right, I do deserve better.’
My heart swells with pride. ‘Good for you! I’m glad you’ve finally seen the light.’
‘Next year, it’s going to be a brand new start. No more cheating, lying ex-husbands, just adventures and maybe even a hot new man if I can find one!’
I give her an extra tight hug, ignoring yet another painful twinge. ‘Any bloke would be lucky to have you.’
Over her shoulder, I see Amanda walk in with a very familiar figure trailing behind her. Adam Hartwell himself. She waves at me as she makes her way towards me, arms outstretched for a hug.
‘Hey you, happy Christmas Eve,’ I say. ‘And I see you’ve brought a date.’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s not a date! He just … asked if he could come along with me and I didn’t say no.’
The coy smile playing on her lips tells me otherwise, and there’s a glow in her cheeks that wasn’t there before.
‘Go on, I’ll pretend I believe you,’ I say with a wink. ‘Help yourself to food in the kitchen.’
Adam flashes me a sheepish grin and matching wave as he follows Amanda. I give him a warning glare, but follow it up with a smile. He obviously adores her enough that he’s come to the party with her, but he still has a lot of making up to do for how he acted earlier in her pregnancy. Something tells me he won’t be in for an easy ride where she’s concerned.
I take a moment to look at my favourite people, all gathered under my roof. It’s crazy to think that two years ago, my world was so small. I wouldn’t let anyone get close in case they hurt me, but now I’m lucky enough to know all these amazing people. My life and heart are so full of warmth and love that I truly can’t imagine being any happier.
Scott looks at me from the living room, raising his glass in my direction and sticking his tongue out at me. I wink at him and head off to the kitchen to check there’s enough food for everyone, even though I know I’ve cooked enough to feed a small island nation. As I’m neatening up the plates of cocktail sausages and Scotch eggs, I knock an empty glass to the floor behind the island counter.
Bollocks.
I head round to the cupboard under the sink and crouch down to look for the dustpan and brush. I feel a couple of Braxton-Hicks contractions and put a protective hand on my bump.
‘Everything’s OK,’ I whisper. ‘You’re fine.’
Just then, I hear a voice coming from behind me. It’s unmistakably Natalie’s.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ she says. ‘Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.’
Her words are fuzzy at the edges; she’s had a few glasses of wine, but not enough to make her completely wasted.
‘What is it?’ A new voice joins in this time, it’s Scott’s. ‘What do you have to tell me?’
Natalie sighs and laughs. I’m really glad I’m hidden behind the island counter right now.
‘Cleo would kill me if she knew I was saying this. I promised her I wouldn’t, but … I just can’t hold it back any longer.
You bitch, I want to say, so much for all your promises.
This is it. She’s about to tell him she still loves him and there’s nothing I can do. I brace myself for what’s about to happen, reminding myself that Scott loves me and doesn’t want to go back to Natalie.
‘Scott, I … I …’
I feel something wet pooling on the floor beneath me. Great, I think, I’m about to listen to my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend profess her love for him and now my sink’s leaking.
Except it isn’t.
The leak is coming from me.
I jump up in fright, almost banging my head on the island counter. Natalie jumps away from Scott, like a cat on hot bricks, and turns to look at me.
‘Cleo?’ Scott says with a frown. ‘What were you doing down there?’
‘I don’t want to worry you,’ I reply. ‘But I think I’ve just gone into labour!’