CHAPTER 58
I don’t know whether what Marlene and I had called my ‘girl magnetism’ was wearing off, but Heidi and Nita seemed to have come to a temporary half in supplying new residents. We are, after all, such a tiny proportion of the population that I must have been sheltering a major part of the available ‘supply’, and there was also the parallel fact that not all parents are bastards.

I had met enough who were, of course, and as I watched Alicia and Serena developing a new relationship with their own, I understood that in many cases it was just a matter of ignorance and confusion. Sometimes, just sometimes, that could be worked through. Not with arseholes like Kim’s dad, of course, nor creepy shits like Tiff’s, but still--- sometimes.

So the Autumn came on, and I lost Tricia and Serena to degree courses in Cardiff. Not actually ‘lost’, of course, for they were still coming home each evening, unlike Cathy and Nell, but it was still a wrench, as their social circle expanded and the number at our evening meal regularly dropped. Far more painful was the loss of Kim as she had moved in with Phil when his own course had started. I found myself becoming a regular at Ruth’s once again, as it was one way of seeing her, something I was finding had become a real necessity.

Kim had been my first little friend, my first success. Cathy and Nell were now flying high, and Patricia and Serena looked set to follow their path, but it was a confident, cheeky, in-your-face young woman that left me flushed with warmth and pride. I hadn’t made her in any way, for she was and always had been her own person, but I had been the one to offer her the room, the safe space, that had allowed her to grow.

We still had a mass descent on the Smugglers at Christmas, which was attended by three young men. Phil’s cheeky grin at the reaction from Leo and Scott to Marlene let me see exactly why Kim had fallen for him, as our host had gone into full skin-stripping bitch mode on spotting the boys.

Cathy and Nell, for their part, had clearly been expecting the display, and had simply stood far enough back from their men for their stifled laughter to be covered by the sounds of the disco from the next room, only stepping forward as Marlene came to a pause, and I heard Cathy say something about a ‘bitch’.

Marlene drew herself up to her full seven or so feet of heels-to-wig and sneered down at my girl.

“Bitch I may be, but Moi is a professional one, unlike you amateurs!”

Her sneer changed into a grin, and she stepped round the end of the bar to hug the two.

“Welcome home, girls. If these two don’t… come up to the mark, let me know, and I will throw them to the bears”

That was a normal Christmas for us, although ‘normal’ was our own interpretation. My two students had taken a couple of rooms for the holiday, one being over Harry’s, probably the same one Graham and Malcolm had used, while Ruth warmed my heart by offering Nell and Leo floor space in her own flat. I was still keeping to the rule about men in the House, even though I was missing Graham and his partner horribly, but we had no such problems at New Year, as we simply descended en masse, Phil included, at the clubhouse, Lee and Scott having gone home for their own family New Year.

That was a night my memory lost a lot of, as usual, but I did drop a little word of advice to Kim: less ogling of Oily, more smiling at Phil.

The only blight on the two holidays was down to Charlie and Tiff, as they were still unable to face leaving the House, even in our crowd. What touched me was an offer from Gemma.

“Debbie, what are you all doing for Christmas and New Year?”

“Same as we always do, Gemma. Smugglers and Clubhouse. Why do you ask?”

“Charlie and Tiff. We can’t leave them here all on their own, can we?”

“Yeah, I have to sort something out there”

“I’ve got something”

“Yes?”

“Um, not really my thing, is it? Parties?”

“Sorry?”

“Not really someone who can go looking for a snog, is it? Can’t go on the pull, can I?”

She waved a hand down her body, so tall and solid, and my own inner bitch was in instant agreement, much to my shame.

“Going to be working late on both Eves, Debbie, but I’ll be done on time, and Frank said he’d drop me at Ruth’s after work both nights. He’s staying home as well, so he says it’s not a problem for him”

“You sure about this, love?”

“Yeah. Get some drinks in, I can bring some of my stuff home, and some of his, and the three of us can watch Jools Holland and stuff. Not a problem for me”

I could almost read her mind, of course, and it clearly was a problem, as my intuition was telling me so clearly. Go out to a party, watch everyone else pairing up, especially at the end-of-year countdown, and then see everyone else sucking faces off. I was in the same boat, of course, but I had my own way of coping, which wouldn’t suit Gemma, as my particular method for all too many years had simply meant getting absolutely blind drunk.

Another little ‘not just me’ moment to cut me. I hugged her, thanked her and after a canvas of the three of them, got a limited supply of booze in for the two evenings. The obs were piling up.

So onwards to Spring, and another Summer with Pat, and once again Kim moved back home to look after Charlie and Tiff as Phil went home to his own parents for the holidays. Pat was disappointed once again, but she still found her smiles for my troop. Next year, maybe; at some point, two rape victims might heal, and I had left Dr Thomas as much information as I fairly could.

And round we went again, the year turning, and the last of my ‘school girls’ entered the sixth form college for A-levels or vocational studies, still enough of a troop for group support. Another Christmas, another New Year and another obligation to Gemma. Where on hell was the time going?

We were also short two on Christmas Day itself, as Alicia’s father and Serena’s mother collected them from outside Ruth’s and Harry’s respectively. They were back for the evening, and they were so quiet I was terrified that I asked them to come into the ‘study’ in the second house.

I sat them down with a cup of tea each, as chocolate would have been too heavy after all the food we had been pigging out on, and left them to think for a few minutes. Alicia was the first to open up.

“You’re wondering how it was, Debbie”

I nodded.

“Hard not to, really. It’s just that both of you are so quiet, it worries me. My job to look after you, isn’t it?”

She looked across to Serena, who took her hand.

“Yeah. Me and Serena here, well, she waited for me when her Mam dropped her off, so we could, you know. Compare notes”

“And?”

Alicia looked at the other girl, who nodded, ‘you tell’ it the clear meaning.

“Deb?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have proper Christmases as a kid?”

Memories… music, booze, Peter standing in a freezing cold pond thanking the spirits, a sock at the foot of my bed. Mam and Dad sorting tea out for a whole room of hungover people. Smiles. Bite back on the pain, Debbie Petrie Wells.

“Yes, love. I had some wonderful Christmases”

Alicia smiled, and it was a wistful one.

“Serena and me, yeah, we compared notes sort of thing, and yeah: we both had a really lovely day. Dad was great, and she says her Mam really pushed the boat out, and Dad was trying so hard… see these?”

She lifted her hair to show a pair of crystal ear studs.

“When Dad and me were on a visit, with Mrs Milton, we went round the shops, and he must’ve seen me looking at these, cause he had bought them for me as a prezzie, and that was what the day was like. Remember that first text? Remember I said he hadn’t called me his son?”

“Yes, I do. Very well, love”

“Yeah, well, today it was his daughter, and Serena here, she says her Mam was just the same”

Serena was nodding now, her smile as wistful as Alicia’s.

“Yeah. Mam and me, it was just us two for dinner and that, like Alicia and her Dad, and Mam, she tells me I’ve got work to do in the kitchen, and…”

Her tears started as she spoke her next words.

“She says ‘Just the two of us this year, mother and daughter Christmas’, and it was like that all day”

I had a suspicion of what the problem might be.

“Can I have a guess, girls?”

They both nodded, and I reached out for their free hands.

“You’re asking yourselves why it couldn’t always have been like that, am I right?”

They both nodded as one, and I squeezed their fingers in mine.

“New start, then, and a target for next year”

They looked at each other, then back at me, both sets of eyebrows raised, so I simply smiled again.

“Next year’s will be an even better family Christmas, girls. We together on that?”

I got the nods of agreement I needed, and led them back into the other half of the House. Next year, indeed, would be as good as I could make it, and if it involved losing a couple of girls, so be it.

Once again, we were in the crap part of the year, and I was working two jobs, as there was no way I could leave so many out in the cold. As long as I wasn’t on a late shift, I would arrive home, where Charlie and Tiff had packed everything ready to go into the Transit, and after we had eaten, I would take a couple of girls out to distribute a little bit of humanity to the cold and hungry. I was sitting in an armchair after one run, savouring my own warm brew, as the BBC evening news ended and the weather forecast told us of more misery to come, and they started their version of the commercial break. For people who weren’t supposed to do adverts, they did rather a lot, even if it was all for their own stuff.

I was only half-listening as they puffed one programme, yet another repeat of something called ‘The Sharp End’, when I realised that I knew one of the figures on screen.

“Trooper Gerald Barker of the Royal Tank Regiment became a household name after the classic BBC North documentary ‘The Sharp End’, and on the anniversary of his death we are offering another chance to watch the programme at ten o’clock on Thursday. Viewers should be aware that the subject matter is not suitable for younger viewers”

It wasn’t the programme details that caught my attention, however, but the figures on screen. As an army bugler played the traditional notes over, a fresh grave I recognised one of the mourners: Mr Hemmings, my surgeon.