One More for Christmas(106)

Gayle felt a wash of despair. Just when she’d thought everything was going well. If she told her daughter that Tab had kicked her, she’d sound like a toddler herself.

She started it.

She was desperate to show Ella that she could handle this. “Tab—”

“Go away! I hate you, Nanna. I hate you and I don’t want to play with you ever again.”

Gayle felt as if her heart had been skewered.

“Tab.” Ella knelt down next to her daughter and hugged her, ignoring the flying fists and drumming heels.

“Be careful of the broken ornament—I’m worried about your knees and the dog’s paws.” Gayle tried to collect the pieces in her hand, while Tab shuddered and then went limp.

“I don’t want to play with Nanna.”

“Hush.” Ella rocked her, and Gayle slid silently from the room, feeling like a complete failure.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d done wrong, but she’d obviously done something very wrong and now Tab hated her.

Just when she’d thought things were going well. Just when she’d started feeling hopeful. She’d tried so hard to knit the family back together again, and now they’d been wrenched apart and it was all her fault. She’d been a terrible mother, and it seemed she was also a terrible grandmother.

Thirty minutes. Was it really so hard to look after a child for thirty minutes?

What must Ella think of her? And what now? Should she leave? Was that even possible so close to Christmas? She didn’t want to ruin their family Christmas, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them and spending the holidays alone in her apartment.

She closed the bedroom door, dropped the ornament fragments into the bin and sat on the edge of the bed.

The books she’d bought on being a good grandparent mocked her from their place on the window ledge.

I hate you, Nanna.

She sat, marinating in her own failures for what felt like hours.

Leave? Stay? Which?

She was still weighing up the best course of action when there was a knock on the door.

“Mom?” The door opened. It was Ella. Gayle sat up a little straighter, bracing herself.

“Come on in. Ella, I don’t know what to say. I—”

“Well, Tab has something to say before you do.” Ella pushed the door open and Tab slunk in next to her. Her face was blotchy with crying. “Tab?” Ella’s voice was level and calm. “What did you want to say to Nanna?”

Tab flew across the room and flung herself on Gayle, almost knocking her flat on the bed in the process.

“I’m sorry, Nanna.” She buried her face in Gayle’s neck and clung tightly. “I’m sorry I said mean things.”

Ella waited. “What else, Tab?”

Tab shrank against Gayle. “I’m sorry I kicked and hurt you. That was wrong.”

Gayle hugged her, the relief indescribable. “That’s a very nice apology. What a grown-up girl you are.”

“I love you, Nanna. Do you love me?”

“Yes, I do. I absolutely do.”

Tab looked at her mother and Ella smiled.

“You can go and find Daddy now.”

Tab sped off, leaving Gayle alone with her daughter.

“I’m probably the one who should be apologizing.” Gayle’s insides were liquid with relief. “All you wanted was half an hour, and I didn’t manage to give you ten minutes.”

Ella laughed and sat down next to her. “You did well to last ten minutes. Handling an active, excited Tab this close to Christmas isn’t easy.”

“But you’re brilliant at it. You don’t overreact and you’re so calm.”

“It isn’t easy. I’m always thinking, Is this going to work? Is this the right thing to do? But all you can do is make the best choice you can in the situation you find yourself in.” Ella paused. “Which is exactly what you did with us.”

“But did I do the right thing? Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe I was a terrible mother. Maybe I’m going to be a terrible grandmother.”

“No!” Ella squeezed Gayle’s hand. “I know Tab hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry about that, but she’s just a child, Mom. She spouts these things when she’s tired. She’s still very young, and struggles to control her emotions. You can’t attach too much meaning to what she says. Sometimes it’s best just to let it pass and not examine it too closely.”

“I keep thinking I should have—”

“Well, don’t. Looking after young children isn’t easy. I love being a mother, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t days when I am desperate for Michael to walk through the door so that I can have five minutes to breathe. How did you do it on your own? I have no idea. I’m exhausted. I’m going to need Santa to bring me headache pills.” Ella flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes.

“You’re a wonderful mother, Ella. Tab is a lucky girl.” Gayle rubbed Ella’s shoulder. “Can I fetch you headache pills?”

“No, I’ll be fine, but thank you.” Ella sat up. “Nothing that five minutes peace with my own mother won’t cure. I’m so glad you came. Are you? Or has that horrifying glimpse into the other side of my daughter made you book a flight home?”