David looked at his watch. Five minutes to the end of the sermon, he reckoned. A couple of closing hymns, a prayer, maybe a Christmas gift thing for the kids, the benediction and then they’d be out. He hoped the ham wasn’t burning; he’d turned the oven down low. He hoped it was cooking fast enough. Was it too low? He hoped his house wasn’t burning down.
He should have stayed, but, well, family. Take Great Nan – his mother – to the Christmas service, take the whole tribe for goodness’ sake, Great Nan would love it. Her realm, the vast spread of her family. Jen got Great Nan ready, the kids arrived – kids, all three are in their thirties for goodness’ sake, and have littlies themselves, six of them, from babes in arms to six-year-olds. Yep, David was a grandfather now. He sighed. His lovely wife Jen a grandmother, Nan to the littlies.
He thought about his brother Richard, the tech mogul who’d got in from the States late last night, if he’d make lunch, and what the age gap might be with his new … what do you call a new romance in your sixties? A beau? A girlfriend? Totty?
He refocused. Jason the Minister was addressing the barrage of children squatting in front of the vaulted pulpit. He looked out for his grandkids. Aaron was up the front, picking his nose. Jem was behind him, staring at the man’s full beard rise and fall as he spoke. He was saying something about the Christmas miracle, how God came out of Mary’s tummy, just like you kids did from your mums.
He felt a nudge in his rib. Great Nan. He looked. She was patting her stomach.
‘You know it,’ she said.
Was she even whispering? He looked around, trying to suppress the thought of it, but no one else seemed to have heard.
Another nudge. He found himself in Old Lady Breath Zone.
‘Poor bloody Mary,’ his aging mother said. ‘Wakes up one morning pregnant without even a proper shag the night before.’
The man in front snorted and turned to David with a huge grin. Terry the local butcher, trussed up in Christmas best, face as pink as a turkey.
‘Mum,’ David whispered, ‘please.’
The old lady grinned. ‘Well, how do you think you were conceived, hmm? Or don’t you know where your three came from? Hmm?’
David sunk his head into his hands, in an attitude of prayer, his shoulders shaking. He heard Terry chuckle again.
‘You old she-devil,’ he whispered to his mother.
‘That’s the Christmas spirit,’ she replied.
The Minister mentioned the hay in the barn.
‘Made hay while the sun shone,’ said Great Nan, and nudged her son again.
It was rough apparently, there being no room at the inn.
‘Rough, is how we liked it. A good rollicking, we used to say. Your Dad’d call out, Vera, darling, how about a good rollicking tonight?’
‘Mum, stop it.’ But he was laughing now.
The holy babe was mentioned; Jason was back addressing the adults in the church. ‘Of course I made him put the bins out first,’ said Great Nan.
David sniggered. His late father had regaled him with his mother’s domestic scope.
She nudged him and when he looked, she patted her stomach again. ‘Never forget,’ she said.
The children were filing back through the pews again. Thank goodness. Each one had an envelope. Jem crawled into the space between David and her great grandmother.
‘See, Great Nan, it’s a star for our tree.’ She held it aloft.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Great Nan. ‘A star, just like you.’ She hugged the little girl.
The final hymn, this one on the organ, not the electric guitars and drums. A bit of tradition to wrap it all up. Come Down O Love Divine. He did like that one.
‘Thine own ardour glowing,’ said Great Nan next to him. Was that a double entendre again or was she actually singing the words? Ninety-five, and he still couldn’t guess her.
* * * *
The base of the concrete stairs was still in shade, but beyond that the sunshine flooded the lawn. The mob of young children ran around in their Christmas best, some holding toys that had been unwrapped that morning. David saw his eldest, Julie and her husband Nick, tending to Aaron as he balanced on a glistening razor scooter. His youngest, Sam, stood with his partner Laura beside them scrutinising the new device with avuncular interest. They’d had no luck conceiving.
He spotted Jen beneath the old fig proudly showing off her latest grandchild to a mob of fellow sixty-year-olds. This one was the first from David’s middle child, Andrew, married to Sue-Anne. He looked but couldn’t see his daughter in law, and wondered if she had shot off home for a bit of well-earned shut eye. The demands of infancy.
Great Nan stood upright on her cane smiling at her son, as they approached the Minister and his wife from the end of the queue for the post service greeting. David prayed, Lord, help this man, he’s got no idea what he’s in for. And then thought, Nor do I for that matter.
Jason shone at them from behind his frameless spectacles, his youthful cheeks shrouded in a freshly trimmed beard. ‘David,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘Merry Christmas.’
David shook his hand and said, ‘You too.’ He leant over to Andrea, Jason’s wife, and shook her hand too. It was dainty, and they exchanged greetings.
David said, ‘You know my mother, Vera Mathieson. Mum, Jason and Andrea, our new Minister team here at St Nicks.’
Great Nan offered a polite smile and said, ‘I heard you’d started here.’
‘Five months in,’ said Jason, ‘so we’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you yet.’
The old lady looked them up and down. Jason in his robe, Andrea in a neat frock and pearls, simple tied back hairdo.
‘You want a Christmas miracle?’ she asked the pair. Before Jason could reply, she said, ‘Modern dentistry.’
Minister and wife exchanged glances. David thought, Hang on to your hats, kids.
Great Nan grinned widely. ‘Still got all my teeth, after ninety-five years. When I was a kid, the dentist had a trundle he’d push with one leg while drilling with the other. Nowadays, every visit to the dentist, he’s got some new piece of kit. Amazing.’
‘It is,’ said Jason feebly, but the old lady leaned in.
‘But the miracle is, that means I’ve got all my marbles too. You’ve got good teeth, you eat well, so your gut is healthy, which leads to mental resilience. You see, I was a nutritionist post war and I always said, if your gut is fine, so is your mind. People dismissed me at the time, but now it’s established, and we have all these little ones buzzing about here in the sun, with full bellies, good heads and bright futures. There’s much to be thankful for.’
Jason, Andrea and David turned to look at the small crowd chatting, shouting, running, sheltering and laughing, old women, men with walkers, younger adults in groups, some rocking prams, kids racing about in joyful clamour.
Great Nan said, ‘Tell me, Andrea, was it?’ The woman nodded, ‘Those pearls are lovely. May I?’ Andera proffered her neckline to the old woman who held a hand close to them, as if directing her line of sight. ‘Beautiful. You look very pretty in them.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Andrea and placed her hand on her chest. David noticed Jason glow with pride.
‘Are they a family heirloom?’
Andrea said, ‘Yes, they were my grandmother’s. A wedding present from her last year.’
‘Bless her,’ said Great Nan, and then smiled at them both. ‘There’s continuity in everything,’ she said. ‘Merry Christmas to you both.’ She took Andrea’s hand and said, ‘If it’s been a year since your vows, you’ll be thinking of starting a family. Just make sure he puts the bins out beforehand, if you get my drift. And don’t forget to floss.’
‘Mother,’ said David, ‘Let’s let these good people get to their Christmas lunch.’
As they walked off, he said, ‘Teeth, mental health, putting the bins out? That’s a new bunch.’
His mother replied, ‘He’s an ambitious novice priest with a pretty wife; he needs a few stories to entertain his fellow clerics at their religious get togethers.’
* * * *
With Great Nan safely ensconced with a Christmas Pims on the comfy chair, reading little Jemima a Christmas tale from her new book, David opened the drinks cabinet.
‘You ladies got champagne?’ he called to his wife, daughter and daughter-in-law as they banged about in the kitchen.
‘All good, thanks’ said Jen. ‘See if Sam and Nick want anything. They’re on the deck barbecuing the prawns.’
He thought he should offer to balance out the kitchen gender roles. ‘You don’t need a hand with the ham?’
Jen looked up at him, the honeyed leg sizzling on a tray in front of her. The younger women, daughter Julie and daughter-in-law Laura were strangely silent, as if caught mid-confession. Jen said, ‘The barbecue, husband.’
Aaron whizzed by on his new scooter. Julie said, ‘Not in the house!’ and he darted through the sliding doors. David said, ‘Don’t know where I’d be without you, love,’ and obediently followed his grandson on to the deck, bottles in hand, letting his wife counsel her juniors on infancy and IVF as they tore lettuces apart, smash avocados and skewered the hot sticky ham.
Son-in-law Nick was watching son Sam dodging smoke and flipping prawns. Nick had a beer already. It seemed everyone had got started without him. He held a bottle out to Sam.
‘No thanks, Dad, I’m abstaining in support of Laura, since she started IVF.’
‘Yeah, it can be tough I suppose.’ David really had no idea what to say. Jen had had no trouble conceiving. Sam looked happy though.
Sam was about to reply when a voice called, ‘Ho ho ho, my Aussie kin!’ The voice belonged to David’s brother Richard.
David thought, Here we go, lay you bets on if this year’s girl will be younger or older that last year’s.
Three men and a woman emerged on to the deck. Richard in coloured jacket and dyed hair, his face smoothed with cosmetic support. The woman beside him was thin and tanned, and a swathe of bleached hair bounced about her narrow face. Sunglasses, ruby lips and nails, a sun dress. David thought, unusually modest for Richard’s other handbags. He struggled to guess her age. Wrinkles had been softened, and her arms were thin and muscular. Two younger men stood beside her, late teens or early twenties. Designer t-shirts and stovepipe jeans.
The men were silent. The prawns spat.
‘So, Dickie, you going to introduce us?’ said the woman in a voice that ripped through the Christmas heat. She then stepped forward. ‘I’m Peta, Dickie’s squeeze du jour.’ She held out a heavily bejewelled hand.
Du jour? Thought David, but said, ‘I’m David, and this is my son Sam and son-in-law Nick.’
‘Nice to meet you, boys. These are my two, Todd and Lucas.’
The two young men nodded and mumbled a hello.
Peta dipped her sunglasses and eyed David. ‘So, you’re the big brother. You don’t look so scary.’ She nudged Richard, who emitted an embarrassed snort.
She stepped closer and said, ‘Dickie’s told me he hasn’t exactly enjoyed a reputation in the family for dating … well, gals his own age, so if you need the statistics on his latest model, I’m sixty-one, which makes me Dickie’s contemporary, tech sector marketing which is where Dickie and I met, the boys are in their twenties so I was a late mom but had a great career and still do, I ran a marathon last fall and this here is the man I’ll take to my grave.’ She flung her arms around Richard’s waist and clipped his cheek with a red lipped kiss.
David wondered if Richard had put on weight since they last met.
‘What do you think, big scary brother?’ said Peta. ‘Can I have one of those shrimps and a beer?’
Richard laughed. ‘Isn’t she just great?’
Peta linked arms with David and said, ‘I think I’ve stunned him. I believe he’s sweeter than you are, Dickie.’
Sam declared the prawns done.
David extracted himself from Peta’s grasp and said, ‘Let’s show you in to meet the rest of the family.’
Peta smiled, and said, ‘Oh good there’s more, Richard said you were a hospitable crowd.’ She took Richard’s hand and led him across the deck and into the house. In passing, Richard said, ‘Nice to be back,’ and punched his brother’s shoulder. David wondered how many days Mrs du Jour would last.
Howls erupted from within the kitchen. Good howls, loud howls. Squeals of delight. David thought, Well Jen and the girls have welcomed the new woman. He could see them all hugging and kissing each other, Laura in the middle in tears, Jen holding her, Peta with bangled arms about them both. David didn’t understand women.
Nick and Sam were behind him with the platter of prawns.
* * * *
David held two glasses of champagne like talismans between his mother and Peta. Great Nan was seated in the comfy chair; Peta stood opposite with a champagne flute in one hand.
‘So, you’re the matriarch of this tribe,’ Peta said and cast an arm in the direction of the gathering.
Great Nan smiled. ‘All my own work. My late husband had a small role of course, but you know how men are. You have to train them up and pack them off to work each day just to get things done.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ said Peta. ‘I’ve had three of them.’
‘And your boys?’ said Great Nan.
‘From number two. The first we were too young. But Ronnie was a long termer. We had fifteen years with the boys when he got cancer. Nasty but quick. The cancer I mean.’
She swigged her champagne and took one of David’s fresh glasses, saying, ‘Thanks, honey.’
‘And number three?’ said Great Nan.
‘Oh he was a screamer,’ said Peta. ‘A mistake from the get-go. It lasted two years – two years too many.’
“Of course, I’m from the generation where we stuck it out,’ said Great Nan. ‘Not that it’s always better that way, but I was fortunate.’ Sam appeared with the prawns. Great Nan said, ‘No thanks, darling boy, the shell gets stuck in my teeth these days.’
Peta took one and lopped off the body in one bite. David held out her empty flute to catch the pink tail. She thanked him.
‘Of course, it’s not nice when you want them around and they go,’ said Great Nan. ‘Frank passed about ten years ago.’
‘You miss him?’ said Peta.
‘Of course,’ said Great Nan, ‘but I’ve got all these, and it happens to us all.’ She reached for the other champagne in David’s hand. She held it up to Peta. ‘We are the stronger sex, so we outlast. It is the will of God. Cheers.’
‘Cheers to that,’ said Peta.
David half raised his prawn tail glass.
* * * *
‘Photo time!’ called Jen. David felt stuffed, and hauled himself out of his chair. The long table was littered with Christmas debris.
‘In the living room,’ said his wife. ‘Great Nan in the middle, the rest of us around, littlies in front.’
Order emerged from chaos. Standing behind his aging mother, David observed the gathering as they straightened up, applied lipstick, wiped food off shirtfronts and tousled children’s hair.
They were quiet, and stared at the latticed windows overlooking the deck.
Someone said, ‘Who’s taking it?’ Debate ensued. Everyone wanted to be in the photo.
David extracted himself and announced he would. He moved to face the audience and held up his smart phone.
‘Landscape, bro,’ said Richard. David turned his phone ninety degrees, and looked over the top of it at his family, his mother surrounded by his wife, Jen, with her arms spread to touching each of their three kids and partners, Julie and Nick, Andrew and Sue-Anne holding their newborn, Sam and Laura, the grandchildren – the great grandchildren – Aaron and little Jem, and brother Richard who held Peta close to him on the sofa; her boys were in the back row.
‘Hurry up,’ someone said.
He took numerous shots and the group dissolved.
After, he sat with his mother on the couch, swiping through the photos. No one will know I was here, he said.
His mother leaned a bit towards him. ‘The old make way for the young,’ she said. She took a bite of a mince pie and chewed it slowly.
‘Besides,’ she said, ‘we’ve had a couple of miracles here this Christmas.’
David looked up. He hadn’t noticed anything. ‘How so?” he said.
‘Take Richard’s new love,’ his mother replied. ‘She’ll last this time.’
‘How can you know that?’ said David.
‘She didn’t budge when we asked who’s taking the picture. All his other ones have offered, because they knew they weren’t permanent. She’s different. She wants in. And Richard’s smitten, which is never a bad thing in a man.’
She crunched into the pie again. David watched her old lady jaws masticate the pastry.
‘But that’s only minor,’ she said.
‘What’s the major one? said David, oblivious to what it might be.
‘Laura’s IVF has taken. It’s month five, it’ll stick. You’re going to be a grandfather again.’
She leaned back in the chair. David felt his heart rise. The squeals, the women, the tears – of congratulations. Grandchild number four.
‘Yep, this year is the miracle of love and medicine,’ said Great Nan. She licked the crumbs from her lips, a sharp tongue darting from the wrinkled corners of her mouth. ‘And dentistry,’ she said, and pointed a bony finger at her large grin. ‘All mine, still got them.’
* * * * * *
Photo by Danie Franco, via Unsplash
