The Wish: The most heart-warming feel-good read you need in 2018

‘Sam!’ Jude gave him an enormous hug, being careful to keep the damp patch on her arm from touching him, just in case. ‘It’s so good to see you. And I’m really pleased that you’re back. How are you?’ she asked, figuring positivity was best, and she certainly didn’t want Sam thinking she blamed him or was taking Chrissie’s side. No, she was here for both of them, Holly too. And would do whatever she could to see a once-happy family put back together again.

‘Not too bad, been better. But, it’s good to be back … to sort things out, with a bit of luck.’ He didn’t elaborate, but Jude knew exactly what he meant. Sam never had been one for long, emotional conversations, and now certainly wasn’t an appropriate moment to discuss things further in any case.

‘I know, Sam,’ Jude said softly, placing her hand on his arm. ‘But you’re home now.’

‘You’re right. And thanks, Jude. It’s great to have you here too. It’ll make a massive difference to Chrissie, and to Holly. You’re just what they need right now.’

‘Anytime.’ Jude looked at the grass, and then back up at Sam. ‘And you. We’re friends as well, remember.’

She loved Sam. With Chrissie being like the sister she never had, she had always seen Sam in a similar way, a bit like a brother. And so she cared about him too. Plus, she knew how good he was for Chrissie – they had been so happy together for a long time, before their marriage came apart at the seams. If she could help them stitch it back together again, then she would do it. Whatever it took.

‘Thanks.’ He nodded. They had known each other since primary school, and her dad, Tony, had been friends with Sam’s dad, Rob, before he died. Tony was still close to Rob’s mum, Dolly, and had always looked out for Sam, her grandson, sometimes stepping in for Rob when Dolly had thought a dad’s influence had been required over the years. Jude remembered when Sam had got roaring drunk in the Duck & Puddle pub on his eighteenth birthday, and had ended up nearly drowning in the village pond after larking about in a makeshift boat made out of an old dustbin. Dolly had called Tony in to have a proper chat with Sam about responsible drinking. And how not to make an absolute idiot of yourself in front of the whole village, who had turned out to see him staggering and gasping for air, as he battled the bin off his head and waded back to the pond’s bank, before collapsing on the grass and throwing up all over the place. So Jude felt it important to try to keep as much of an open mind as she could regarding Chrissie and Sam’s marriage difficulties. She’d been around long enough to know that there were always two sides to everything, plus nobody really ever knows what other people’s personal relationships are like.

Sam reached down to give Lulu a stroke. Surprisingly, she let him, and then even rewarded him with a quick lick on the back of his hand.

‘Ooh, she likes you. Lulu mostly growls at people, or simply ignores them.’ Jude rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation.

‘In that case, I’m flattered,’ Sam said with a small smile. ‘So, what are you doing here?’

‘Well, I had come to see Myles King, but …’ Jude lowered her voice in case the woman was still within earshot, ‘that battle-axe of a gatekeeper won’t let me in.’

‘Ahh, yes, so he called you then?’ He smiled and nodded.

‘He did! But how do you know?’

‘I recommended you. Dolly told me all about your new venture in the High Street, and Myles is looking for some help with furnishings, artwork, interiors stuff and suchlike, so … well, here you are.’

‘Ahh, thanks Sam. That’s really kind of you.’

‘You’re welcome. Always happy to help out a mate if I can. Talking of which, here … take these, you’re squinting.’ And Sam pulled a pair of shades from his breast pocket and went to hand them to her.

‘Oh, no, I can’t take your sunglasses,’ Jude said, thinking, typical Sam, generous as always, he’d give you the shirt off his back if you let him. Just a shame he didn’t equate his time as being as important as material things … Chrissie had often said that Sam loved spoiling her and Holly, but when it came to just turning up or being there, being present in the moment, which he invariably wasn’t, he didn’t seem to think that was such a big deal.

‘OK, if you’re sure.’ Sam reluctantly pushed the shades back inside his pocket. ‘So, how come she won’t let you in?’

‘Must think I’m a fangirl or a gold-digger.’ Jude shrugged, and Sam laughed.

‘Come on, I’ll sort it out.’ He motioned for Jude to step back though the Hobbit door.

‘I thought I’d told you to go!’ The woman practically pounced on Jude.

‘Sylvia.’ Sam swiftly took control. ‘This is Jude, from Darling Antiques and Interiors. I recommended her to Myles, and he called her this afternoon …’

‘It’s true, Sylvia. He did, just like I said.’ Jude sidestepped around Sam and grinned.

‘Hmm. Well, if no one gives me her name then I can’t let her in.’ Sylvia eyed Jude up and down, as if seeing her properly for the first time. She then turned back to Sam. ‘You do understand, don’t you, Sam? You see, it’s more than my job is worth … Myles is very fastidious about me apprehending …’ Sylvia coughed and stepped in a little closer before adding, ‘groupies!’ Jude inhaled sharply, thinking what a charmer Myles must be. Not.

‘I assure you I’m not a groupie. In fact, I’ve never hassled a pop star for a selfie in my entire life, thank you ver—’

‘Look, I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,’ Sam cut in. ‘Why don’t you call Myles, or better still let’s go to the house and find him, and I’ll explain. I can introduce Jude properly then.’

‘Stay there.’ Sylvia whipped out the walkie-talkie again, pressed a button, and within a few seconds Myles was on the line and she had asked him about Jude.

‘Yes, that’s right. Bring her in.’ A short crackly silence followed.

‘Right you are.’ Sylvia snapped the button to end the call. After stowing the walkie-talkie back inside her pocket, she muttered, ‘He really is quite hopeless sometimes!’ before marching off towards the main house, her sturdy brown brogues snapping furiously through the crusty, cowpat-covered grass. Jude scooped up Lulu and scarpered after Sylvia, eager to get inside to take a look at the most obnoxious man on the planet.

Chapter Six

Sam threw his jacket onto the back seat of the car. It had been the first really warm day since he’d come home and he could feel summer in the breeze. It was nothing like the heat of Singapore, of course, but he’d always loved summertime in Tindledale when the village looked its best. He was looking forward to seeing the gardens in full bloom, the fields festooned with a rainbow of wild flowers, a nice cold pint in the pub garden, the kids queuing to get a 99 from the ice-cream van on the village green … he’d grown up with it all. And it felt really good to be back home.

But there was something missing today. Perhaps it was being with Myles on the Blackwood Estate – he was certainly an interesting guy, a bit out there perhaps, but Sam could sense that the man was lonely and directionless. He seemed to spend all his time rattling about in that big house by himself, surrounded by gadgets. And the thought had crossed Sam’s mind … what if he ended up like that too? After pondering for a moment, he shuddered, not wanting to explore the reality of a life like that.

Puffing out a big breath of air, as if to shift the thoughts of doom and gloom, Sam pulled out his phone and called Chrissie. They really needed to talk.

‘Hiya,’ she said on answering and, despite his anxiety, Sam smiled. She sounded upbeat and he had always loved the sound of her voice … soft and rich, comforting too, like a smooth spoonful of warm, runny honey.

‘Hey, Mrs Morgan,’ he replied, slipping into his old habit of calling her that; he simply couldn’t help it. She didn’t answer, but Sam was sure he could hear a smile somewhere in the silence between them.

‘Look. I’m sorry about the other night, Chrissie. I didn’t want us to get off on a bad footing.’ He meant it. He’d had time to think about things and he realised that whatever was going on in her life, he still needed to keep a cool head. He hoped he’d got things wrong about there being another man. Please let me be wrong, he had prayed. But deep down he still trusted her to be honest with him.

‘I know. And I didn’t either, Sam,’ she started. ‘But you can’t expect just to turn up and for things to be the way you want them to be.’ There was a short silence.

‘I understand,’ Sam trod carefully. ‘But I need to see you, just the two of us, let’s talk about things together – try to find a way through. We owe it to each other, surely.’ He was pushing his luck a bit there, knowing that she was likely to throw his prolonged absence back at him, but to his surprise she didn’t.

‘Just give me a bit of time, Sam. We can talk, but I’m not ready. My feelings feel muddled … seeing you again is … really hard.’ And there it was, a small chink of hope amidst the gloom. ‘Anyway, I need to focus on Holly right now … her health.’ Chrissie hesitated.

‘What’s happened? Is she OK?’ he felt the familiar shot of fear through his stomach.

‘I honestly don’t know, Sam … her bloods haven’t been great; her blood sugar is all over the place and she’s been having more tests.’ He could hear the tight anxiety in his wife’s voice.

‘But how long has this been going on? And why didn’t you tell me?’ he reacted accusingly, as a mask for his own anxiety.

‘It’s hardly something I could just blurt out in a long-distance phone call!’ Chrissie reacted right back. ‘Besides, you know how strained things have been. We’ve barely spoken to each other properly for so long now. And the last time you promised to call on Skype, I waited for over half an hour … and you know it wasn’t the first time you’ve let me down.’

Sam felt a hot anger itch its way into his own voice.

‘If Holly was ill, I’d have come straight home. You know that,’ he said.

‘No!’ Chrissie had raised her voice now. ‘No, I didn’t know that. I can’t rely on you any more and haven’t been able to for a long time.’

‘OK, fair enough. But you could have told me when I came to see you and Holly. Why didn’t you? Or were you in too much of a rush to go out?’

‘That’s not fair! I wasn’t in a rush. It’s like I said before, you can’t just turn up and …’ She paused, and Sam heard her take a deep breath, as if bracing herself for more conflict. But he didn’t want to fight. And he was beginning to wonder if calling had been a good idea. All he seemed to be doing was antagonising her further. ‘Anyway, it’s tricky to talk about in front of Holly,’ Chrissie cut into his thoughts. ‘You know how she is when it comes to the diabetes … it’s hardly her favourite topic of conversation.’

Sam fell silent, knowing that his anger was misplaced. It was his anger at Holly’s condition that was making him snappy. He’d always struggled with it … the sadness and frustration at his little girl getting such a raw deal and there being nothing he could do about it. He’d often wished that he could take the diabetes away and have it himself instead of her … he would gladly have done so without a moment’s hesitation.

He swallowed hard and tried again, keen to turn the phone call around.

‘I’m sorry, Chris, I’m not blaming you. I’m really not …’

‘Well, our feelings don’t matter right now.’ Her barriers had gone back up. ‘I just need to be on the ball for Holly.’

‘We do … we need to be on the ball, Chris,’ he reminded her.

‘I know what I meant,’ she retorted, sharply.

Sam felt the situation slipping away from him again. A familiar feeling of being at sea, where the tide dragged him out, his limbs flailing against the strong current as he desperately tried to swim back to the shore and onto steadier ground.

‘So what happens now?’ he asked, still battling the surging tide inside his head as he also tried to come up with a solution to fix everything.

‘I …’ Chrissie started, and then corrected herself, ‘We … just have to wait for the test results … And, in the meantime, we keep a close eye on Holly.’

*

‘There you go, love. Sit yourself up over here.’ Back at Dolly’s cottage, Sam settled into the cosy patchwork-covered armchair next to Beryl, aka the buttercup-yellow Aga, as Dolly handed him a cup of tea and a plate with a very large and delicious-looking homemade slice of Victoria sponge heaped upon it. ‘You look shattered. That’ll be all that tramping out and about through the sprawling grounds on the Blackwood Estate.’ She tutted and shook her head. ‘Never mind, you’ll get a bit of time off work soon enough for the annual May Fair on the bank holiday. That reminds me, will Chrissie and Holly be coming over this year for Holly’s birthday tea? Only, I didn’t want to assume … not with everything that has gone on. And I was wondering about Tony, well, and Jude too, now that she’s back home. I know he’s been coming to us for years on all the special occasions like Christmas, bank holidays and birthdays, what with him being on his own … and he was friends with your dad so it’s always been lovely having a bit of a reminisce over the years. But with Jude being Chrissie’s friend, it might be a bit awkward if she isn’t coming and …’ Dolly paused to ponder on the situation, creasing her forehead and fiddling with her silvery grey hair. ‘Maybe I’ll get in all the ingredients for a lovely afternoon tea in any case, and then at least we’ll be properly prepared whatever happens. Holly has been talking about wanting to do afternoon tea for ages … I think it’s quite the rage these days with the young girls. We could have scones with jam and cream, diabetic options of course! And sausage rolls, dainty sandwiches, mini-quiches – and she was showing me rainbow candyfloss on that YouTube film show too … but that might be full of sugar. Oh well, I’d best get planning …’ She stopped talking suddenly and gave her grandson’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry son, I let myself get carried away without a second thought to how you might be feeling about the state of things between you and Chrissie …’

Sam took a gulp of the tea as a distraction. But it was no use; he couldn’t stop his left eyelid from twitching as he desperately willed the scratchiness in the back of his throat to bugger off. Jesus, what on earth was wrong with him? He felt like crying he was that miserable, which was unlike him. Usually he was pretty good at going with the flow, trusting that the good stuff will win out, but with Holly it was completely different. He didn’t think he would ever forget the diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. The feeling of ice in his stomach and the lurch in his chest as the doctor in the hospital delivered the devastating bombshell that would change Holly’s life forever.

He knew it was from his side of the family. Sam’s dad, Rob, had been diabetic, and that was why Holly had it – hereditary factors, the doctor had said. Their daughter would be insulin-dependent for the rest of her life. The doctor had talked on, the words barely registering in Sam’s mind, saying stuff like ‘developments in research are moving so fast’ and ‘there are now more efficient ways to manage the illness’. But all he could think of were the complications that could happen, the stress on her organs and the rest of her body, the things that could go wrong.

His father, Rob, had been a brilliant bloke, whom Sam had thought the world of, the best dad ever, but it still broke Sam’s heart that he had been taken too soon. Sam had been just a boy, younger than Holly was now, when his dad had died, and he had never really come to terms with losing him. He wished his dad was still around, so that he could turn to him now. Rob had always seemed to know the right thing to say.

And Rob had always been there. Sam certainly had no memory of his dad ever going away, not for a weekend, or even to a football match followed by a night in the pub with his mates; he wasn’t that type of bloke. Family first – that had been one of his mottos. So unlike his mother, Linda, who would give Cruella De Vil a run for her money. Yes, Sam’s dad had been the type of man who had done everything he could for his family. Wasn’t that what Sam had been trying to do: be the provider, the man who looked after his family? Just like Rob had.

And the look in Chrissie’s eyes when they got the news sitting there in the doctor’s office at the hospital. Blame. Written all over her face. She didn’t say anything, of course, but that was what she must have been feeling. She had still been unable to make eye contact with him when the doctor had sat back in his chair, made a steeple with his fingers and observed that, ‘An earlier diagnosis would have been advantageous.’

Sam knew, knew deep down, that he should have considered it a possibility earlier. He should have realised what was wrong as soon as Holly got ill – the tummy aches, the headaches, the getting up in the night to go to the loo, and then her being too tired to go to school the next day, being thirsty all the time. Until Holly experienced her first hypo, he had passed off her getting up in the night as messing around, assuming she was angling for a day off school to hang out down by the river in Violet Wood, just like he had done at her age. If he had been more vigilant, then maybe Chrissie wouldn’t have felt so let down.

If Sam had been on the ball, had involved himself more in Holly’s care, in the day-to-day minutiae of their family life, instead of burying his head in the sand and thinking mostly about himself and his work, then maybe he would have spotted it. Not maybe – yes, he would have spotted it. But he didn’t. He hadn’t been there when he should have been; hadn’t seen the warning signs, so that was his fault too.

‘Want to talk about it?’ Dolly asked gently, sinking down into the chair opposite him. Sam took a deep breath, sighed it out and stared into his tea as he pushed a big wedge of jammy sponge into his mouth. ‘Better out than in,’ she coaxed, in direct contrast to the sponge cake, which was very much better in than out, Sam mused miserably as he savoured the comforting sweetness. ‘Come on, let it all out, love – why didn’t you come back before now, you know … to sort things out?’

Sam put the mug and plate on the side before pushing a hand through his hair. ‘I wish I could explain it, Gran. But after Holly was diagnosed, I just felt like I was in the way. Chrissie seemed to have it all under control. I felt useless, a bit like a spare part, getting in the way and making it all worse, when it was all my … well, you know I’ve always been rubbish at that sort of thing.’

Dolly reached out a pale, age-weathered hand to him, her diamond engagement ring above her gold wedding band still glinting proudly as the early evening sun bounced off the kitchen table. ‘You must let go of this guilt, Sam. I know it’s still eating away at you. Life deals out these horrible things sometimes, but no one’s to blame. We just have to get on with it, and that’s that.’

‘That’s what I was trying to do, Gran, get on with it … keep working, keep going.’

‘Keep going? Or burying your head in the sand?’ Dolly topped his tea up from the big knitted-cosy-covered teapot, letting the question sink in.

Sam picked up the plate, took another bite of the cake and looked up at Dolly’s lined but still beautiful face. Dolly, who had been more of a proper mum to him than his own mother, Linda, ever had.

When his dad had died, Dolly had been stoic, forging ahead with the funeral arrangements for her only son, Rob. She had even looked after Sam and Patrick, full time, in the days following, when their mum, Linda, had taken herself off on a holiday to Spain, supposedly ‘to deal with it on her own’, or so she had said at the time. But how come Sam had found a pile of photographs in a shoebox some years later, of her sunbathing, smiling and sipping cocktails with a big group of people he didn’t even recognise?

Linda … the mother who’d barely batted an eyelid when he’d got into trouble at school for bunking off, who would rather sit at her kidney-shaped dressing table applying lipstick than make sure he and Patrick had breakfast before they went to school. Once their dad was gone, there had never been much food in the house and the last time Sam had pinched a bun from the baker’s basket outside the shop in the High Street, he’d very nearly been caught. If his brother Patrick hadn’t distracted the woman who worked in the bakery shop then he would have ended up at the police house on the far side of village green for sure.

After that, Sam had invariably bunked off school, figuring it was far easier than trying to concentrate with an aching, empty stomach … counting the hours until he could pass by his gran’s on the way home for his tea. A cheese doorstep sandwich, a big slice of chocolate or fruitcake and a packet of Smith’s crisps in front of his favourite television programme, Crackerjack. He and Pat would put off going home for as long as possible, knowing that their tea at Dolly’s was likely to be all they would get until after school the following day. He suspected that Dolly knew this too as she would often pack a sausage roll or two in their satchels – he was also vaguely aware of arguments on the phone after he and Pat had gone to bed and his mother’s raised voice exhorting Dolly to mind her own business. But now it was all muddled up in a miserable jumble of sad memories of his childhood years.

Meeting Chrissie was the first time he remembered being really happy since his father had died. And when they’d had Holly, he had a burning wish to make sure she would never feel the same as he had as a child: to have to go without meals, or to miss out on a full education because no one cared. Patrick had built a new life for himself as far away from his mother as he could get, in Australia. Too far for Linda, who had hardly ever been back to Tindledale since taking herself off to live in London. But what about Holly? She was going without now. Going without two parents pulling together.

‘Any chance of something stronger, Gran?’ Sam lifted his empty mug as he tried to process all his thoughts. Dolly gave him a look.

‘Come on now, Sam. Alcohol isn’t the answer. Tea was good enough for your dad at dinnertime and it will be good enough for you.’ Sam gave her a mock salute.

‘You’re the boss.’

Dolly batted him gently.

‘Now stop mucking about!’ she pretended to admonish. ‘And think about what you’re going to do to make things right with you and Chrissie? Marriage is a marvellous thing, but you need to work at it. Put the effort in,’ she added, glancing at her own engagement and wedding rings.

‘And I fully intend to do just that. I’m going to be here, Gran,’ he said with resolve. ‘I’m going to really be here for Chrissie and Holly. And I’m going to try and work it out myself, so I don’t mess it up again – if they’ll give me another chance.’

Dolly took the now empty mug from his hands before standing behind him and putting her arms around his back to hold him in a hug. Silence followed and Sam had to swallow hard a few times to stop his emotions from bubbling up and swirling his eyes with tears.

‘It will be OK,’ Dolly eventually said, very softly. ‘You’re home, for starters. That has to make things easier,’ she told him, echoing Jude’s sentiment from earlier. ‘You didn’t have a hope of talking to Chrissie properly from the other side of the world. It’s just not the same, son. A woman wants the closeness. To see your face in front of her in the room. Not on a screen, or just to hear your voice down a phone line.’

‘You know, Chrissie still won’t see me properly, just the two of us.’ Sam shook his head. ‘And I know she and Holly aren’t getting on. It’s such a mess.’

‘But you have to give her time. Remember what I said about not expecting too much too quickly. This situation between the two of you didn’t happen overnight, and it’s not going to be fixed overnight either. For what it’s worth, I know Chrissie does still love you.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Sam asked. ‘You’d tell me if she was seeing someone else, wouldn’t you?’