The Christmas Surprise
Page 66

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ said Tina. The joy beaming from her made her still the loveliest bride. ‘But you can’t go.’
‘We must,’ said Rosie, as Apostil grabbed on to Tina’s finger and tried to put her new rings in his mouth. ‘We’ll still see you, though.’
‘What, out here in the middle of nowhere, when it’s snowing up to our waists and pitch dark?’ joked Tina.
‘This isn’t the middle of nowhere,’ said Rosie, sincerely. ‘It’s the middle of my everywhere.’
Rosie carried Apostil in the sling and half carried Stephen as he wobbled back up the main street. A well-fed Mr Dog was running cheerfully behind them.
‘Ha, that was ace,’ said Stephen. ‘Oh God, the look on those old fuckers’ faces when I told them we were leaving.’
‘It was nice,’ said Rosie. ‘That they were sad. You shouldn’t have done that. Especially not to Mrs Baptiste.’
She glanced across the road. The village was utterly deserted, everyone still at the party. But was that a figure stepping out of the shadows?
‘I know,’ said Stephen, still talking loudly. ‘But still. Nice to be appreciated for a change. Funny, when I was younger, I couldn’t wait to get out of this FUCKING SHITHOLE!’ He burst out laughing.
‘You are a really daft drunk,’ Rosie complained.
‘It’s true! I used to think it was a FUCKING SHITHOLE!’ he yelled again. Then his face turned glum. ‘Now I can’t believe we have to leave it,’ he added quietly, but it was too late. The figure had turned round and was waving.
‘No way,’ said Rosie. It was Joy. ‘Does that cow never sleep?’
Joy approached them, iPad welded to her bosom.
‘I was just coming to see you, but you weren’t there,’ she said. She glanced at her watch.
Rosie glanced down. Apostil had pulled off his hat and it was nowhere to be seen. She pulled her jacket over him protectively. The wind was biting.
‘Why are you hanging round this FUCKING SHITHOLE?’ said Stephen, giggling to himself. Rosie felt like kicking his stick away.
Joy pushed a button on her iPad.
‘Do you have many problems with substance abuse?’ she asked.
‘It’s late,’ said Rosie. ‘I need to get the baby home.’
‘Yes, this is an absurd time to have a baby out,’ said Joy. ‘There’s really a lot you need to learn about parenting, you know.’
Stephen was still laughing, and suddenly, all the emotion of the day welled up in Rosie, everything she’d done and was trying to do, and she couldn’t hold it in any more. Knowing as she did it that it was terribly dangerous, she turned on Joy.
‘There’s a lot EVERYONE has to learn about parenting,’ she said loudly. ‘That’s the whole point. It’s a LEARNING PROCESS. If it wasn’t, nobody would bother having the damn things, they’d know it all. But I’ll tell you one thing I’ve learned. This baby is adored, beloved, spoiled rotten by everyone he’s ever met, and that includes his mum, which is me, and his dad, which is that man over there who works like a Trojan every bloody day of his life, and if he isn’t allowed to get a bit pissed at a wedding and his own fricking baby’s christening, well then it’s you who’s got the problem.
‘If you think we’re not good enough for Apostil, you tell your bosses, and we will fight you for our son until there is no fight left in us and we are both lying dead in a ditch. Otherwise, you can just shut the fuck up and get out of our lives. Good night. There’s a party on at the scout hut you could go to, if you ever let your hair down, which I doubt, though it could certainly do with a wash.’
And exhilarated and shocked at herself, she turned round without another word and stomped off with Apostil, Stephen wobbling along as fast as he could on his stick at her side.
‘I have NEVER fancied you more,’ he said as they made their way up past the darkened door of the sweetshop.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Oh God …’
‘Sssssh.’
Downstairs, Apostil was crying, a long, thin wail that sounded like he was absolutely furious at the world and wasn’t afraid to show it. Rosie felt like she’d been punched in the head repeatedly. Stephen was lying behind her, his eyes tight shut, making a thick, groaning noise.
‘Oh God …’
‘Jesus,’ said Rosie. She’d kept a close eye on her consumption and was sure she’d only had a few glasses of champagne … well, and some cider, she supposed. And a bit of beer to wash down the fish and chips. And obviously more champagne for all the toasts …
‘Oh crap,’ she said, as Apostil became more demanding. ‘I did that thing where I was drunkenly utterly convinced I was sober.’
‘Rrrrrrr,’ said Stephen, still refusing to open his eyes. His dark stubble stood out on his pale chin.
With great difficulty Rosie managed to roll herself over to the side of the bed.
‘Oh GOD,’ she said. ‘Oh God, what did I say to Joy?’
Stephen put a pillow over his head.
‘She caught you driving a baby whilst drunk,’ he muttered.
Rosie put her head in her hands.
‘Oh God oh God oh God. It’s all right, baby boy, I’m coming.’
She rolled off the bed and resisted the temptation to crawl down the stairs. Her thoughts were churning in her head. What had she done? What had she said? Icy water plummeted into her stomach. Oh God. They’d take Apostil away. They’d done too much, been too rude. Social services would speak to Stephen’s mother and conclude he didn’t have a stable family background. They’d see the house was up for sale and judge them financially incompetent. And what if they’d dropped him? What if something had happened whilst she’d been a bit squiffy?
By the time she got downstairs she was in full-blown tears, and it took her a second or two to realise what she was seeing. Firstly, it was eight o’clock – it was light! Apostil had slept right through! And secondly, he had manoeuvred himself somehow out of his sleeping bag, and was, wonder of wonders, over on his tummy. When he saw her, he stretched up his arm and beamed a proud gummy smile so enormous that Rosie felt worse than ever.
‘Look at you!’ she said. ‘Are you rolling? Don’t roll on your tummy, that’s bad! Ha, the first thing you have ever done and I’m telling you not to do it.’