Bluebell Road Christmas Update for Sept 13

 

A week of little progress.

Maybe a lowly one thousand words.

Distractions, work, and a day off work feeling utterly blah. Headaches.

In other words... life.

I blame hormones.

But I have taken some leave from the day job to try and crack into it so that at the end of the week I hope to have a very tidy, say, 15 thousand added to the story.

However, I still remain within the time frame I wanted if I can really do some blitz writing this week.

In the meantime, I post below a very raw (ie unedited, possibly error-riddled)  bit of the first draft.

 

CLARISSA BARTLEY McCall studied the children and their families as they laughed and smiled and stood in awe at the huge, world famous in London, display.

The Bartley’s Christmas display. Their display.

She was tired, so tired, but she was happy.

This made her happy.

Next to her, Nick said, “It still amazes me how something like this, something our grandfather came up with all those years ago can make everyone look so happy.”

Happy. That word again.

“They are happy,” Clarissa sighed, not taking her eyes of them. Christmas music played, there were plenty of staff dressed in Victorian era garb, two of the men from the model railway group who had retired some engines and brought in new ones were on hand to talk about the huge model railway set. The adults adored it more than the kids.

And that made her even happier. At this crazy time of year, it was seeing in the faces of the parents who were doing it tough, that there was this chance to have some time out and bring their kids to see the cave on this magical night they would never forget.

That was the gift, because the store was officially closed, and for this hour, it had been opened especially. And for these parents, a trip into Central London to Knightsbridge, well, to be honest, many of them had probably never entered the store. They couldn’t afford to shop here, and although the public paid a voluntary donation to the cave, it was was a fundraiser for one of the store’s charities, and the irony was these were the kids who should benefit.

And she had a heart for children.

She put her hand over burgeoning stomach as she pictured her own brood: Henry and Sebastian, Milly and Bea.

She was going to be a mother of five in a few months’ time.

Five children.

She would do it. Of course she would. What was one more?

Her resolve wavered, and Nick said, “Are the treats ready to go?”

She would be a mum to five.

She dragged her gaze of the smiling faces and onto her brother.

“Of course they are ready to go. Bags of chocolates and sweets for the children, and a box of biscotti and shortbread for the parents.

“Good.” Nick smiled, “Good. You’ve done good again Clarissa, with everything that’s been going on these past months. You’ve done amazing.”

She gave a reluctant smile. “I appreciate you saying that but I only managed to keep it together thanks to everyone around me. I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t come to my rescue, and hired Julia, and made sure I got help and everything.”

Nick put his arm around her, pulled her close for a quick moment and said, “There’s still a way to go, though.”

Clarissa nodded. There was. As in, her ex-husband, Tristram. Although he wasn’t ex yet.

After ten years of marriage and four kids –no five—he had done a runner.

He had literally said he couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t be with Clarissa and his children anymore, and he had taken off.

Although unbeknownst initially to them, he hadn’t taken off alone.

“Stop it” Nick said suddenly.

She looked sharply up at him.

He said, “You’re thinking about those two and don’t. Just don’t.”

“I know,” she groaned, annoyed at herself, “I know. I’m getting better at not thinking about them, honestly.”

Nick gestured to the group. “Focus on this. Tonight. Enjoy this because a moment ago, you were enjoying this.”

“I was,” she said, “but it makes you wonder.”

“Makes you wonder what?”

“If anyone is truly happy. I mean, I can dress up and smile and for these moments I can push it aside and ignore it and I can feel some happiness. This does make me happy. But it isn’t like that all that time.”

She met his gaze. “And I know you’re still angry as heck at them. You’re happy with Julia now, but you’re still mad at them. You’ve still got it tough, Nick.”

He gave her a grim smile, and the thought of it, of what they were both going through, actually made her smile. If it weren’t reality, you’d swore you were living in a tv soap opera.

“I’m funny how?” he said.

“It’s the way that we’re in this together. Tristram was your best friend and Miranda was your girlfriend. And now they’re together. They screwed both of us over.”

“Real funny,” he said with a shake of his head but his mouth curled.

“And you’ve got Julia.”

He brightened and she could see the happiness in his eyes. You’d’ have picked Nick Bartley would settle down with some like Miranda. Rich, beautiful, society. All that.

But no. It had been Julia West, working in the store as a shop assistant.

Envy suddenly trickled through her and she said, “I’ll never have someone. I come with too much. Five kids. Oh my gosh five kids, Nicky. Five kids!” Saying it out loud was even more daunting.

“But you don’t want someone,” Nick said. “Do you?”

No. She didn’t. But maybe in the future…. Clarissa pondered this. The idea of it was nice. It was dreamy. Someone who was devoted to her, loved her and her kids, so yes. Who wouldn’t want that?

But relationships required compromise and she was not going to compromise on her brood. Never. They came first. They would be her priority and the less complications the better and romance, even a great romance, was a complication. Although that was one of Tristram’s comments. She gave more time to the kids than him, even though they were his children for the love of all that was sane.

Selfish dick, she muttered under her breath, then said. “You’re right. I can’t see it. Not ever. I don’t want it and I know it’s only been months since Tristram left but a relationship is not in my future. In fact, I need to start thinking of a different future.”

“You’ve got us,” Nick said, gesturing to Julia who was chatting to some of the parents, dressed in her Victorian outfit. “Uncle Nick and Aunt Julia. We’ll baby sit any time and all that.”

“You meeting Julia was a lifesaver,” Clarissa said.

“It was,” Nick said. He suddenly snapped his fingers. “Speaking of life savers, did I tell you Ethan is moving into her flat?”

“Ethan?” Clarissa looked up. “Really? Ethan moving in with actual people??”

“Juts for a month. He needs some place temporarily and Katie’s heading out of town over Christmas with James and jokingly offered her room but he’s taken her up on it.”

Ethan. She’d known Ethan for years and she had a lot of time for him. He was so different to the men she knew, and even more, they got along so well. He was much like Nick in a way. Serious. Contemplative. She looked at the new mural he’d painted, depicting Santa arriving back in the north pole on his sleigh. He was insanely talented as an artist and a craftsman, and every year he came and set up the Christmas cave. He started back in October sorted it all out, made sure it was up to spec and running, and for years prior, he’d helped his father out.

Her mind stilled a moment on a memory. It was when she’d been pregnant with her youngest, Bea, and they’d been discussing a new upgrade to the cave, and he’d bought lunch with him. They’d sat on the ground, side by side, chatted, shared lunch as if it were a picnic and she remembered as clearly as if it were today, even though it would have been four years ago now, that baby Bea had kicked, and he had placed his hand over her stomach for the longest moment, and felt her kick.

It had been the most intimate moment. Her breath hitched in her throat. It had felt in that moment as if it were even the most intimate gesture in the world.

Even now she felt a strange flush go through her at the thought, a flush that went right to her toes.

She didn’t like people touching her belly, with or without a baby.

Hastily, she pushed it away, straightened, and said, “Right. I better go and be a better hostess.”

But for some reason, some inexplicable reason, it was as if she could feel the imprint of Ethan’s hand on her belly as if he were right there with her now.

(end of excerpt)