CHAPTER 17
Of course they had to come round the next day for dinner, and that had to be arranged for a restaurant as we simply didn’t have the room, which meant a LOT of telephone calls to find somewhere that had space for well over twenty folk, and only the Parson’s Pig had space enough among all the office parties.

At least the pub part of that was in another room, so that my family could pretend it was actually further away than the other side of an archway.

My second Christmas as myself, my first ever as I should have been with my own kin. There are moments that last hours, where memory hides in warmth and sweetness. That was an afternoon of that sort; everything now lives in my mind’s eye as snapshots, a smile here, a laugh there, and bugger me if Simon wasn’t still along for the company. One highlight was a long discussion on the theory and practice of excellence, as Big Bill Woodruff, Simon, Merry and Uncle Arthur with Jan Woodruff’s mother Angela hammered out a definition of virtue. Now, that was indeed fierce, as the Buddhist, the Quaker and the congregation-centred Chapel folk laid into the episcopal principles of the Anglican vicar. Merry was surprisingly fierce towards her supposed object of affection.

“I will allow no man, no mere mortal, to stand between me and my God. He has said, nobody comes to the Father but through Him, isn’t it, so why would I need a bishop to decide for me?”

“But, Merry, who can help you with the interpretation? Some of the scriptures are rather dense…”

“Then I shall need to study and meditate on His word, aye? That is the whole purpose of prayer, to know the Lord more fully, aye? I do not need a serried hierarchy of prelates to show me that my God lives!”

Bill was laughing. “Not actually having a god, I can score this one. Fifteen-love to Merry”

There was more, but some of it I missed when the table next to us had a roast delivered, and I had to take some air outside in the car park. Eric was clearly rising to join me, but it was my other man, as usual, who took my back, and three of us made a little huddle in the chilly winter sun. Chantelle was curious, and I noticed that her speech, like Darren’s, was changing register steadily as home life set her free.

“Annie…”

“Yes, love?”

“Daz tells me you have problems, like, with roast dinners and stuff…”

“Aye, girl, aye, it’s memories. I have some really bad ones, aye, and sometimes, well, the bad stuff comes back at any hint, like a smell, and roasts…look, I was a traffic cop, and there were fires, and that’s all”

She shuddered, and he cuddled her close. “Yeah…iss sounds with me, sounds and colours, yeah? Like, a voice, a way of speaking, like. Big man’s voice, shits my head up”

I looked at her, shivering in his arms, and wondered if it was his slightness, his lack of bulk, that let her see him as safe.

“Sorry, my family, all those bass singers, aye…”

She was suddenly animated. “But thass different! Thass music, yeah, real music, from inside, not some radio chart shit, thass like hating someone cause they plays a banjo, innit?”

Just a hint of a grin there. “Annie, I got to learn, Ginny keeps telling me that everyone’s different, books and covers and shit, and just cause he’s got a cock, like…”

There was an age of pain in her eyes, something primeval. “Iss what Kate tells me, not all men are rapists just because a lot of the ones I know are. And Ginny…Ginny says, she says me and you, Annie, we is sisters, and she says I have to look after you, and I says, I don’t need no telling, cause you looks after me, and Daz here, and shit, and….”

Her tears were there then, and we ended up in an awkward triple cuddle. I did my best for her.

“You know it’s over now, don’t you, Shan? Anyone else like that would have to get past Ginny, for a start!”

“And me!” added Darren.

Shan sniffed. “Yeah…but it don’t go away, Annie, and you know that, yeah?”

“Yeah, I do, but I look at what I have and that keeps it clear, keeps me safe, aye? My Eric, and now my family, aye?”

I let her think for a second, then tried again. “Your family, Shan. We’re sisters, yeah? I always wanted a sister…”

Suddenly she laughed. “Snot true, yeah? You wanted to BE your sis, innit?”

Laughter from tears, love from grief. I squeezed her tight. “Did you ever expect such a big family, love?”

“Not buying ‘em all crimble pressies, innit?”

There was movement in the corner of my eye, and an Amazon was there, her eyes moist. I whispered in Chantelle’s ear that her mum was behind her, and she turned to Ginny, who stroked her cheek.

“Shan, love, do us all one big favour, and don’t grow up too quick. Kate an’ me, we told you this, so many times, you take the space you need, because our lives are full of as much as you want. Annie’s right, nobody gets near you that you don’t want there. Now, all the hot stuff’s gone, so who wants a pudding?”

Eric just winked as I came in, and as he did so I felt a little brush of lips on my cheek, and Darren’s whisper with it,

“Thank you, Annie”

Puddings, and tea, and more debate, and I noticed that Simon and Merry were still smiling after their tennis match, so I collared Big Bill.

“Oh, Simon wiped the floor with her on his interpretation of the word, but she took the match with faith and passion. Tell me, how long have they known each other?”

“Well under a week, Bill”

“Hmmm. I sort of feel it may turn into a lot longer than a week, my dear. They bounce off each other so well, I wonder whether they have known each other before…oh, don’t look like that, leave me to my own faith, yes?”

He grinned once more, showing exactly where his sons got their humour from, and even though I was thinking “tripe” to myself, I smiled back. Just then, Esther tugged my sleeve, and of course I had to rush over and hug the new father.

“Den, I think you know most of these, so let me introduce someone new. People, Dennis and Kirsty Armstrong, and the little package that Kirsty is holding so carefully is my godson, Dennis Adam Armstrong”

There was a round of applause before the other women started their cooing and complimenting. Simon was chuckling.

“Dennis, can I assume that you will be looking to enlist my services again?”

“Aye, marrer, my son will have a name before we get our own blessing done, if that’s fine with thee”

“I tell you what, why don’t we just take out some sort of time-share agreement, like they do in Tenerife, just without the rip-off? Seriously, as Merry has stressed with great passion, God’s house belongs to every man and every woman, and certainly to every child. Being a parent is what we are created for, and if…”

I noticed his eyes linger on me and then Ginny, before he continued.

“If God sees fit, for His own reasons, not to bless someone with a child, then let us hope they find the chance to show that love to some child who has lost the love they need. Ah, too serious. This is family, and this is a time for joy. Don’t any of you know how to sing?”

Silly, silly vicar. And how could he applaud the songs that followed when he and Merry kept their hands below their table?

That night I lay with my man, after an afternoon that turned into an evening, as Ginny’s snores rattled the windows in the next room, and reflected on Simon’s words. Could it be enough, for me or for any woman, to aunt my way through life? That was the bottom line. I was sister, I was going to be wife, I would remain aunty, and godmother, but could I ever do the last? I knew that Kate and Ginny had managed to sublimate their need, for Chantelle became their child more and more with each morning they woke together, but I still looked at Kirsty and hurt. Eric’s arm lay across my breasts as he breathed slowly in his sleep, and I found myself wondering what he was feeling. We had come so far together, beaten so many obstacles, it had to be true that he could pass that test too.

But what if he couldn’t? Sleep was a long time coming.