Cathy Kelly

Four Days Before Christmas by Cathy Kelly (first published in Woman & Home Magazine's December 2009 issue)

Posted on 22 Dec 2009

Four days before Christmas, Vicky Ryan stood in the supermarket with her list in her hand, and misery in her heart.   She had just four days in which to finish cleaning the house from top to bottom and to force herself into some semblance of festive cheer. It was hard to know which was going to be harder.
She wheeled her trolley tiredly round the aisles. More crackers, just in case. There were going to be fourteen at lunch, after all. Gluten-free mince pies for Aunt Phyllis, who had a delicate stomach.
Aunt Phyllis had been coming to Vicky and Mike’s for Christmas for almost as long as they’d been married, twenty years at least. The only time ninety-year-old Aunt Phyllis forgot about her digestive system was when she was into her fifth Irish coffee.
Must check if we have enough drink, Vicky reminded herself.
When her mother died, Vicky had taken over as the sensible, organised person who hosted Christmas, kept up with all the far-flung relatives, and remembered family anniversaries. Everyone in the extended family loved her Christmas lunch.
‘You have that magic touch for cooking and decorating,’ her sister-in-law once said, admiring the hall festooned with ivy garlands and gingham Santas.
The guest list had grown every year. This year, apart from Phyllis, and Vicky’s sister, Sasha, there was Mike’s sister and her whole family. Not to mention that nice Canadian doctor who was working as a locum in Mike’s GP practice.
Once, Vicky had loved doing it. Christmas was such a magical time and she’d wanted it to be memorable for her beloved son, Anton.
‘Thank you for making it all so special,’ Mike had said so many times in the crisp dawn of Christmas morning, when Anton would be delightedly showing off Santa’s goodies.
This would be the first year they’d have Christmas without Anton. Twenty-one and on a gap year in Australia, he wasn’t coming home.
‘It’s too expensive, Mum,’ he’d said on one of his weekly Skype calls. ‘Unless you want to send me the money –‘
Vicky knew she had to let go. A good mother had to give children roots and wings, even though she’d mortgage her soul to see him.
‘We’ll be fine,’ she said, outwardly smiling. ‘You’ll have a marvellous time there.’
When she’d hung up, she’d burst into tears.
 Mike hadn’t put his arms around her, the way he once would have.
‘He’s got to fly the nest, love,’ he’d muttered somewhat absently, and went back to his medical journal.
 At that moment, Vicky had felt her heart break. It was as if she’d lost both of them – Anton and Mike.
In the supermarket, she suddenly caught sight of herself in the reflective door of a freezer cabinet.
A tired forty-nine-year-old with greying roots stared back at her. She worked on the reception desk in Mike’s practice and hadn’t managed time off to get her hair dyed. It looked dreadful. Like she felt.

*****

In her chic, glossy apartment, Sasha stared at her haul of Christmas presents glumly and wished she wasn’t going to her sister’s for Christmas lunch. She loved Vicky so much, but hated Christmas. It was for families: not your family of origin, but for the new one you’d made, ideally a husband and kids. None of which Sasha had. When you were single at forty-five, the ideal Christmas was on a beach somewhere away from the madness.
Next year, she promised herself, she’d go the Caribbean.

*****

Mike Ryan put the phone down and sat silently in his surgery. He shouldn’t have been shocked to hear that this patient had died. The tumour had been inoperable. But Lisa had been such a vital woman, so full of life. She’d reminded him of Vicky. The same courage and humour, the same warm-heartedness. The resemblance between Lisa and his wife was why Lisa’s death felt so raw.
He’d learned to distance himself but even after twenty-three years as a GP, some deaths touched home. What would he do if anything happened to Vicky?
Things hadn’t been great between them since Anton had left. The empty nest syndrome had hit her like a tornado.
Mike was aware that he hadn’t tried hard enough to understand what she was going through. It was ironic, he knew, how a man could be so loved by his women patients for his listening abilities, and then not really listen to his wife.
But in his defence, Mike was used to Vicky being the strong one. She was the one who’d supported him financially during the early years of the practice. She was the one who’d taken part-time jobs, who’d made every Christmas fabulous using limited funds and her creative ability to transform the house into a welcoming sanctuary.
It was startling to see the effect that Anton’s leaving home had had on her.
On the surface, it was as if she was no longer the young, beautiful dark-haired girl he’d fallen in love with. And yet that girl was still there. With a shock, Mike realised the problem was that he never bothered to reach out to Vicky anymore.
He loved his wife so much. Why didn’t he tell Vicky that? Or show her?

*****

By noon on Christmas Day, the guests had started to arrive.
Aunt Phyllis had turned vegetarian.
‘Forgot to tell you, dear,’ she beamed at Vicky.
Sasha arrived looked red-eyed.
‘Sorry,’ she said, hugging her sister. ‘Just feel a bit miserable, that’s all.’
The phone rang loudly, and Vicky retreated to the kitchen to answer it, wondering how she was going to cope with a day of this.
In the kitchen, Mike was holding the phone, a look of love on his face that Vicky didn’t think she’d seen for a very long time.
‘It’s Anton,’ he said.
‘It’s midnight there, thought you’d be asleep,’ said Vicky into the phone, and began to cry.
‘The party’s only starting,’ Anton said cheerfully. ‘I had to phone cos I got Dad’s email about you two coming to Australia in January. I can’t wait –‘
‘Mike.’
Vicky clamped one hand over her mouth. She knew how tight money was. ‘We can’t afford this,’ she began.
Mike stepped forward to hold her closely, the phone nestled between them. ‘It’s not about money,’ he said softly. ‘It’s about us. I wanted to give you something precious for Christmas to show you how much I love you.’
Vicky’s tears fell but they were happy ones.
‘Mum, Dad,’ came Anton’s muffled voice on the phone. ‘This is a terrible line...’

*****

In the dining room, Sasha found a tall, dark man peering at the family photos on the wall. He turned as she came in and a smile lit up his face.
Despite herself, Sasha smiled back.
‘What part of the family are you?’ he asked, holding his hand out, still smiling.
‘I’m the unmarried sister,’ said Sasha, grinning.
His smile widened.
‘I’m the unmarried doctor they took pity on.’
‘Best if we sit together,’ Sasha said gravely. ‘Otherwise, Aunt Phyllis will give you her entire medical history. I’ll save you.’
Their eyes met.
‘I think I’d like that,’ he said.

The End.