There ensued a flurry of activity, everyone producing parcels from hidden cupboards and corners, until the tree was swamped by them. Timmy had to be carried upstairs and undressed while more than half asleep. Everyone else soon followed, with the briefest of visits to the bathroom for teeth-brushing. ‘It’s good to have you home again,’ mumbled Thea to Drew, as they both sank into oblivion.
Chapter Thirteen
Towards dawn, Stephanie had a succession of dramatic dreams. In the first, Ant’s mother came to the door festooned with brambles and nettles and thistles, her face scratched and her hands bleeding. ‘Help me!’ she gasped, before collapsing in the sitting room and knocking over the Christmas tree. That was followed by one featuring a witch-like figure riding on a massive dog, which was chasing Timmy around a fallen tree in a field. Lastly, there was a lengthy episode in which she had to find a box containing Thea’s Christmas present from Drew, which he had hidden and then forgotten where he put it. Only Stephanie could help, until Ant’s beloved Percy appeared and started to dig under a hedge. A glint of bright silver wrapping paper had just become visible when she woke up.
Blearily she blinked at her father standing in the doorway, his arms full of peculiar shapes. ‘Happy Christmas, kids!’ he carolled. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still asleep. It’s nearly half past seven. Look – Santa Claus has been, as hoped. I found all this stuff by the fire downstairs.’
He carefully disentangled the two pairs of well-filled tights and gave one to each child. ‘I hope I’ve got them right,’ he said. ‘Not that Santa seems to discriminate between the sexes so much these days.’
It felt wrong to Stephanie that he had had to wake them up. This had never happened before, and it made her think she must be getting old. The magic of the pre-dawn anticipation had been a crucial part of previous Christmas mornings. But Timmy had missed it too. He was as bemused as she was. ‘Morning already?’ he spluttered. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I think I am. Thea’s not up yet, but Jessica’s in the bathroom already. The sun’s going to rise any moment now.’
‘It’s not till after eight, actually,’ Timmy corrected. He knew about such things. But he was not trying to pick an argument. Instead his attention was diverted to the mysterious lumps and rattles of his Christmas stocking. ‘It’s heavy,’ he said, his eyes widening.
‘Well, just see what you’ve got, while I go and let the dog out,’ said Drew. ‘Don’t eat all the chocolate at once.’
‘How do you know there’s chocolate?’ demanded Timmy, alert for any hint that Santa might actually be a resident of their own home.
‘I think I spotted it, about halfway down one leg.’
Stephanie was already pulling objects out of the tights. The stretchy nylon resisted as corners caught, and she tried not to make holes. First out was a wooden yo-yo, followed by something mounted on a cardboard rectangle. It was a strange puzzle set into a plastic frame, comprising moveable squares to create a picture. Delving further, she soon had a goodly pile of treasure on her duvet. Timmy, across the room, was yelping with delight every minute or two. It was unusual for them to be sharing a room, but Jessica’s arrival made it necessary. Only three upstairs rooms contained beds, while the fourth, which was very small, was used as an emergency overflow only, with a folded bed kept in a cupboard. Timmy had begun to use it for his own overflowing collection of Pokémon figures and other things. He had instructed Jessica to be very careful when moving around his bedroom, because he had several delicate possessions sitting on almost every surface. ‘Don’t knock the orrery over, will you?’ he begged her.
‘The what?’
‘It’s a model of the solar system. I made it myself.’
‘Wow! I promise I won’t make any sudden movements,’ she assured him.
Drew came back to inspect their stocking things, and then left them to get dressed and come downstairs. ‘Nice smart clothes, remember,’ he added. One of the aspects of childcare that he had always paid particular attention to was the way they were dressed. For this Thea had expressed considerable gratitude and relief, when first taking on her role as stepmother.
Jessica came into the kitchen, her phone in her hand. ‘Snow forecast for Wednesday,’ she informed them. ‘Just as I’m supposed to be driving back to Manchester.’
‘Hooray!’ crowed Timmy. ‘I like snow.’
‘It should have been today, then we could have had a white Christmas,’ said Stephanie. ‘That never seems to happen.’
‘You’re right,’ Jessica agreed. ‘I don’t think I can remember a single one.’ The children had brought their stocking toys downstairs in cardboard boxes, and Jessica devoted herself to a thorough inspection of them, remarking that she thought a pair of tights was cheating, and she had only ever been allowed to hang up a handmade felt stocking that had been her father’s. ‘It only held about four things,’ she said. ‘And it had a hole in the toe.’
‘Gosh – that old thing!’ Thea exclaimed, overhearing this remark. ‘Carl’s mother made it in about nineteen sixty. I threw it away when you were fourteen.’
Stephanie digested this conversation with interest. Carl’s mother must be Jessica’s grandmother – the one that wasn’t the person who she had met twice, when Dad and Thea had got married. ‘Is she still alive?’ she asked.
‘Who? Carl’s mother? Oh, yes. We’ve got the full set of grandmothers, in fact, even if we hardly see any of them.’
‘Where does she live?’ she asked Jessica. ‘Your father’s mother, I mean.’
‘Oh, she’s in a nursing home in Shrewsbury. I went to see her last month, actually. It’s not terribly far from Manchester. Carl’s father died ages ago, and she married a man called Stanley when she was seventy-five, and they went to live on the Welsh border. Then she got Alzheimer’s. She usually knows
