Free A Merry Little Christmas by Julia Williams Page B

head off.
    ‘Cheeky,’ said Pippa grinning. Thank God for Lucy’s sense of humour. It made the tough bits bearable. ‘But I’m working on it, so there. I’m just going to make some phone calls now.’
    Talking to Clare King was having the effect of galvanising her into action. Every time Claire put an obstacle in her path, Pippa felt duty bound to clear it away.
    She rang up the first of two companies who’d contacted her. It was a medical equipment company, who wanted, ‘To give something back,’ as the director told her. The second company made some positive noises, but she couldn’t get anything more concrete out of them.
    ‘These are difficult times,’ the friendly lady on the other end of the phone said, ‘so I’m afraid we can’t commit at the moment, but keep in touch, and maybe things will be different in a few months’ time.’
    ‘Thanks, that’s very kind of you,’ Pippa said, she gave the thumbs-up to Lucy, who grinned at her. ‘I’ll do that.’
    She put the phone down and high-fived her daughter.
    ‘See, not such a slacker after all,’ she said.
    Okay. I let you off, typed Lucy.
    ‘You better had,’ said Pippa, with a grin, ‘I’m working my socks off for you.’
    She filed the details of her phone calls away, and made a note of the dates she’d arranged for her meetings on the calendar, before thinking about what to cook for lunch. As if on cue, Dan walked in from a morning’s hard graft.
    ‘How are my gorgeous girls today?’
    ‘Ugh, you smell of cows and pigs,’ said Pippa, pushing him away in a mock serious way.
    ‘You know you love it really,’ said Dan with a grin.
    Smelly Dad, typed Lucy, putting on such a pained expression, they all laughed.
    At moments like this, Pippa knew they’d be all right. Dan would always be by her side, Lucy was a total joy, the boys were a great support. She was going to fight with every fibre of her being to save the respite care package, but whatever else happened, no one could take her family away from her. Not even Claire King.
    Cat stood in the chemist’s irresolute, holding the pregnancy testing kit, checking swiftly that there was no one she knew in there. Hope Christmas was a great place to live, but everyone knew your business before you did.
    Should she buy the kit or not? Surely she couldn’t be pregnant at her age? Her periods had been erratic for months, but she knew the tell-tale signs, that awful taste in her mouth, the completely debilitating exhaustion, the gentle swelling of her tummy. They hadn’t been careful at New Year. It was just possible – if appalling to contemplate. Cat had enjoyed her time as a young mum with babies and toddlers, but she was now enjoying the freedom of having older children. There was no way she wanted to go back to all that.
    After hovering around the counter for ten more minutes, during which time the vacant looking teenager behind the counter (whom luckily she didn’t know) had started to stare quite pointedly at her, Cat bought the kit. She fled home as fast as possible, feeling vaguely guilty and paranoid someone might have seen her. This was ridiculous. A pregnancy scare at her age. Because that’s what it was. A scare. She’d just wasted seven quid because she and Noel had behaved like irresponsible teenagers. She’d laugh about it with him later.
    Getting home, Cat found herself putting off the moment. There was no point rushing to take the test, it could wait. Never the most assiduous of housekeepers, she found herself impelled by the urgent need to tidy Ruby’s bedroom. Two hours later, knee deep in plastic bags of tat, unfathomable amounts of string, pieces of paper and broken toys, Ruby’s room looking better than it had done in months, the floor actually being visible, and the desk under the high sleeper bed being clear, Cat felt she could put the inevitable off no longer.
    She went back downstairs, picked up her handbag and walked straight into the bright modern ensuite she