Page 72 of The Merry Christmas Project

My mouth had gone dry and I paused to swallow hard. I was right back in that small damp room with cork tiles on the wall and condensation running down the windows and heavy woollen blankets on the bed which smelled musty. The fear that had stolen my voice, rendering me silent, threatened to grab me again.

‘Merry ?’ Cole’s voice startled me ; I was so wrapped up in the story that it felt as if I was back there in that house. ‘If this is too painful, you don’t have to tell me. I suggested it to pass the time, not make you feel uncomfortable.’

His voice was kind and full of concern, and tears pricked my eyes. I’d never told anyone this story, even Nell didn’t know why I had such a phobia of the dark ; she simply accepted that I had and that I didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Would you prefer it if I didn’t ?’ I asked, realising that I was oversharing in a mammoth way. I didn’t even know Cole that well, but sitting here in the silence, with a door separating us, felt right somehow.

Cole exhaled. ‘I’d prefer it if this door was open and I could give you a big hug.’

‘Me too,’ I said, brushing away a tear from my cheek.

‘But carry on if you’d like to, I’m listening.’

I nodded into the darkness. ‘As soon as he sat down, I could smell him. His clothes smelled of cigarettes and his breath was sour. He started to stroke my hair and tell me I was a good girl. I lay there, my heart thudding and wishing with all my heart that my mum would be better tomorrow so that I could go home. And then the door crashed open and it was Maureen, Michael’s wife. She lunged at Michael and they had a bit of a fight and then they both left. I wet the bed but didn’t dare tell anyone; I just pulled the sheet off and got back into bed. Nobody said a word about it the next day.’

‘How old were you ?’ Cole asked in a heavy voice.

‘Seven ? Eight maybe ?’

‘You said you’d lied to your mum. So far in this story I’m hearing lots of wrong-doing, but you were the innocent in all of this.’

‘I’m coming to that. I was allowed to go home a few days later and Mum asked me if I’d had a nice time. I lied. I told her I’d had a lovely time and that I really liked the foster parents. I thought that would be what she wanted to hear, but she cried and cried and said that I’d be better off with other people who could look after me better than she could. It was the worst thing I could possibly have said.’

I heard Cole swear softly under his breath. ‘You were trying to protect your mum, which was incredibly mature of you.’

‘After that I went to foster carers every few months to give Mum a break. Never back to Michael and Maureen, luckily. Then one year, when I was twelve, I went into a children’s home, I think it was around November time. Mum said that she’d definitely be better before Christmas and that I’d be home to spend it with her. But by then she had …’ I shuddered as the memory came whooshing back. The day I was called into the head teacher’s office at school to find the manager of the children’s home waiting solemnly to break the news to me. ‘I didn’t go home again because she took her own life. My beautiful mum, Sammy, aged twenty-nine. Gone for ever.’

There was a long silence on the other side of the door. A pulse beat in my temple. Had this been too much truth ? I swallowed, willing him to speak.

‘Jeez, Merry,’ Cole said with a groan. ‘When I think that all I had to worry about was cucumbers … You were so little to be worrying about that sort of thing. I have a daughter, Freya, who’s eight and if I ever thought … I can’t begin to imagine. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.’

A wave of relief rolled over me ; I felt strangely lighter after telling him. Although the same could possibly not be said for poor Cole. He’d probably got a good deal more than he bargained for this evening.

‘So now you know why I don’t like the dark,’ I said. ‘And why I’ve got a complicated relationship with Christmas as well.’

‘Not surprised. You poor kid.’

‘I turned out all right in the end though,’ I said. ‘So don’t feel too sorry for me.’

‘Sorry for you ?’ he grumbled. ‘I’m the one locked out here with a full bladder.’

I erupted into laughter and the tension which had held my whole body in its grip eased away. I laughed and I laughed until my sad tears mingled with happy tears and on the other side of the door, Cole laughed too, simultaneously moaning that he was in pain and that he was dangerously close to having an accident.

‘OK, let’s take your mind off your bladder,’ I said, pulling myself together. ‘You’ve told me snippets about your kids, tell me more.’

And for the next few minutes I listened, rapt, while Cole talked about Harley and Freya. About the summer they’d spent together going camping and swimming and building dens in the garden of Holly Cottage while Cole was getting it ready to rent out. How they were living in Canada for a year with their mum and loving their new life. He told me proudly how bright they were and that despite only having been in their new schools for a few months, they’d adapted to the new education system easily. His voice was full of love and tinged with regret and it was evident how much he was missing them.

‘They are why I work so hard, why I get up in the morning,’ he said. ‘When the sale of the houses at Orchard Gardens go through I’ll be able to buy us a proper home, so that they enjoy coming to visit.’

‘You sound like a great dad,’ I said softly, privately thinking that Freya and Harley would probably love visiting him even if he lived in a cardboard box. ‘I didn’t have one at all. There’s a blank space on my birth certificate where his name should be. I remember asking her who my dad was. She never told me his name but said things like he was her best friend, a lovely kind man, but he hadn’t been able to stay with us. By the time I was old enough to demand more information, Mum had died.’

‘You’ve made me realise how lucky I am; I can’t imagine not having my parents in my life.’

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. ‘I do miss Mum. I sometimes wonder about my dad. Where he is. Who he is. Is he still alive? But what you’ve never had you can’t miss.’ I’d been trotting out that cliché all my adult life. It was complete rubbish. I’d only had to look around me to see what I’d been missing and what I still missed : a family to belong to.

‘I do worry that my kids will forget me,’ he said, ‘that they’ll get so used to living with Lydia that they won’t want to stay with me when they come back.’

My heart melted for him. ‘I somehow doubt that will happen. When will you next see them ?’