‘We might need these later.’ He winked.

  ‘You mean,’ I said, ‘when we’re stuck in seven feet of snow on the line, the electricity has gone out, and we’re all starving?’

  Harry grinned. ‘It’ll be like an episode of The Walking Dead in here.’

  ‘Oh, shut it!’ Sophie put her headphones on and scrunched her eyes shut. ‘Sometimes, I hate you guys.’

  One scare later, when we stopped somewhere between Wellingborough and Nottingham and didn’t move for ages, we finally got into Sheffield. During the wait, there was the same announcement on a loop that told us nothing. There was a lot of shifting about, general grumblings and people hurrying to the train loos. We were only an hour late, and Harry’s dad was waiting outside the station in the car, the windscreen wipers going as fast as they could, though it didn’t make much of a dent in the snow gathering on the windscreen. Brushing the snow from our clothes, we shook hands and hugged.

  ‘Wasn’t sure if you were going to make it,’ he said as we dropped our rucksacks and packages in the boot and climbed thankfully into the car. ‘Thought I might have to do an emergency dash cross country to find you all.’

  Once we were inside, the heating was switched on, and the smell of damp clothing wafted noisomely around us. Neither Sophie nor I had ever driven through such deep snow. All those jokes about an inch in the south and everything ground to a standstill, but up north, even in a foot, they would only be contemplating getting their winter coats on. That now seemed undeniable. Harry’s dad drove us with consummate care along some of the scariest lanes imaginable. The edges were lost in the drifts, hiding hedgerows and gullies. Trees, their branches weighed down with snow, overhung us, at any moment ready to dump their load on us. Under these arches, the gloom deepened, and it felt like we were underwater. It was magical.

  Creeping over a humped back bridge, the windscreen wipers squeaking, Harry’s dad said, ‘Normally, you’d be able to see the dry-stone walling we’re famous for.’ He indicated out the window. ‘But as you can see, the snow has covered it all. Which is a pity.’

  ‘Nearly there,’ said Harry, as we drove into a small village, past a pub festooned with twinkling fairy lights, then up the main road with the butcher’s, baker’s and probably candlestick maker’s! The lights were blazing in the quaint tearoom and gift shop, and we could see fuzzy shapes through the misted windows. The post office had a small queue, and I hoped it was to pick presents up, not send them, as it was far too late for anything to arrive in time now. People were scurrying around, pink-cheeked and purposeful, some calling ‘hello’ and waving to others across the street. Most of the buildings were buff-coloured sandstone and steep-roofed, sections of grey slate visible where the snow had been too laden and slipped off. A tall steepled church was set back, deep tyre marks overlapping along the lane that led up to it. Smoke dribbled from chimneys into a leaden sky. I wondered if Harry’s family had a real fire at home. I hoped so.

  ‘There’s the cricket pitch,’ said Harry, pointing through the trees. ‘Got great memories of playing there.’

  ‘We have, lad,’ smiled his dad.

  Tall stone-clad houses came into sight, and Harry’s dad drove up a tiny side street. As he parked, he called over his shoulder, ‘Now, none of this Mr Bryson malarky. I want you to call me Ben.’ He turned to Harry. ‘Not you though, I’m still sir to you!’ he chuckled throatily.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Harry, tugging on his fringe.

  ‘Right. Girls? Get your stuff out of the boot, and Harry can get you in. I’ve got a few things to sort out first. No rest for the wicked.’

  Dragging our rucksacks and paraphernalia out, we slipped and slid after Harry as he led us through a small front garden and up five large steps to the door, which had a wreath made from holly with bright red berries hanging on it. His mum must have been watching out for us, as the door was yanked open before we pressed the buzzer.

  ‘Welcome in, you lot. Quick now, get into the warmth with you.’ She smiled as she practically hauled us in. ‘It’s so lovely to see you all again. Even you, Harry.’ She winked.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ Harry was enveloped in a big hug. ‘It’s good to be home.’

  ‘Shame your brother couldn’t make it.’

  ‘It’s quite a hop from Auckland to here. I’m sure he’ll make it back at some point.’

  ‘Well, I miss him, that’s all.’

  Harry patted his mum’s back gently. ‘We all do, Mum.’

  ‘Get your coats hung up here.’ She indicated the coat stand. We stripped off our outer gear and kicked off our boots. The heat was a smack in the face after the cold from outside.

  ‘Leave all your stuff here,’ said Harry, ‘and we’ll get it upstairs in a mo.’

  Jostling and bumping, we left our packs under the coat stand, now lilting at an angle from the weight of so many coats and jackets.

  ‘Wow, it’s hot!’ said Sophie, her cheeks reddening. I could feel my own face heating up and my nose tingled.

  ‘Here we go.’ Harry’s mum ushered us into the living room.

  ‘You’ve got a real fire. It’s amazing,’ I groaned in delight. Logs were piled high in the grate, glowing red and crackling, and more were set ready on the large stone hearth. Christmas decorations and tinsel were wound along the main lintel, which was covered in knick-knacks. Rattan snowflakes hung from wall lamps, and all the cards the family had been sent were hung on a line pinned above the fireplace, held by tiny red pegs.

  ‘Oh, it’s so lovely and Christmassy in here!’ Sophie gazed around, entranced.

  In the corner furthest from the door was a Christmas tree that grazed the ceiling. Fairy lights twined around the branches, and glittery baubles and gold-embellished ornaments twinkled and shone. There were wooden reindeer, snowmen and robins peeping out, and silver tinsel spiralled round and round the tree. On top was a rather lopsided fairy holding a wand with the tiniest bit of glitz still on it. Although she’d seen better days, she was smiling. How old was she? Had she always graced the tree from when Harry’s parents were kids? Placed under the tree were presents wrapped in bright paper and golden bows. LED candles glimmered on every surface. Had we stepped into the pages of a Dickens novel?

  Harry’s mum flapped at us. ‘Sit down, you lot, and I’ll get the kettle on. Everyone for a brew?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  As she swung into the kitchen, she said over her shoulder, ‘Please call me Shirley. I don’t want to be called Mrs Bryson. I think Ben might have mentioned this—’

  ‘He did, Mum,’ Harry grinned, ‘but I have to call him sir. So that means I must have to call you ma’am then?’

  Shirley laughed. ‘No, love. Mum is fine by me.’

  Cups of tea and slices of homemade Bakewell tart in hand, we sat on the sofa, warmed by the fire. Ben bundled in with plastic bags loaded with stuff he whisked into the kitchen.

  ‘Looks as if you’re feeding the five thousand,’ said Harry through a mouthful of cake.

  ‘Well, truth be,’ said Shirley, ‘the aunts are coming tomorrow, and we need to be prepared.’

  ‘Are they still alive?’ Harry looked shocked. ‘I mean, how old are they? They must be at least a hundred?’

  ‘Maybe I should explain.’ Shirley grinned. ‘We have two great aunts—’

  ‘Or are they great, great aunts?’ queried Ben. ‘I can never remember.’

  ‘Very, very old aunts,’ laughed Harry.

  Shirley tutted. ‘Anyway, they’re coming for tea tomorrow. They’re twins and have been inseparable even though they married. They come to us on every alternate Christmas Eve and then spend Christmas Day with one of their grandsons, who lives in Sheffield. They are teeny-tiny dots of things that eat like ravening wolves!’

  Ben said, ‘then straight down to the pub on Boxing Day, and no, I’m not joking.’

  ‘Every time I see them,’ said Harry, ‘I tell them to write their memoirs, but they tell me they’re too busy having fun. The stories they’ve told us over the years are incredible.’

  ‘They lived through the war,’ continued Ben, ‘and they went out with the army lads, though they never let on there were two of them. They wore those young men out.’

  ‘They were so naughty,’ smiled Shirley. ‘I think the war years made them realise nothing lasts and to make the most of each and every moment you have.’

  ‘Good motto,’ said Sophie. ‘We should all live that way.’

  We sat and chatted, warmed by the fire, until we moved into the kitchen for a late lunch.

  ‘Shirley?’ I said, ‘Did you cook all this yourself?’ I waved my hand across the table.

  ‘Every last scrap.’ Shirley nodded.

  ‘Then I can see where Harry gets his culinary prowess from.’

  ‘That’s a lovely compliment, Lily love.’ Shirley smiled at Harry. ‘We made sure both our boys could fend for themselves. I know Harry’s had his moments of eating Pot Noodles, but at least we know he can cook a good spread if needs be.’

  ‘Harry’s a fabulous cook,’ I said.

  We chatted, idling the hours away, sitting comfortably in the living room, until Ben ordered a supper of take-away Chinese, which we followed with a few games of scrabble. There was no TV, iPad or computer, and we didn’t dare get our mobiles out. It again felt as if we’d stepped back in time. The radio had the volume on low, and muted Christmas music slid out. When we started to yawn, we were shown to our rooms.

  ‘So sorry to be lightweights,’ I said, ‘but it’s been a long day.’

  Harry had already taken our packs and presents upstairs, and he sheepishly told me Sophie and I would be sharing the spare room, which had twin beds. Which meant I would not be sharing with him.

  ‘Ah!’ I grinned. ‘It’s okay. I understand.’

  ‘Mmm,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘They didn’t want to assume, so they plumped for safe, not sorry… and embarrassed.’

  ‘What time are we expected up?’

  ‘I’m sure I’m allowed to bring in a cup of tea for you both. It won’t be before eight-thirty.’

  As I kissed Harry goodnight, I could see Sophie making lewd faces out of the corner of my eye.

  That was the Christmas to end all Christmases. It started off so well, but how were we to know how it would end? My fateful meeting with Psycho Jo. The fact both Sophie and I missed the last Christmas with our mum. And the other thing that shattered both mine and Harry’s hearts to the point where we couldn’t glue it all back together again. The point where I must have lost him.

  And now, in the present, I am still trying to figure out how my illustrations ended up wet and spoiled in my freezer. This experience is not something I will bounce back from lightly. There are too many connotations here, and some of them are frightening. Should I speak to Sophie? No, she’s dealing with her own stuff and taking on Dad’s as well. She has a husband and a little kid to look after, so even though I know she would try to help me, I believe it’s too much for her. Isn’t Rose something to do with mental health? Should I ask her opinion?

  Alice is stumped. She has gone through every iteration of what could have happened, and none are good.

  ‘Is there anyone who… I don’t know how to put this—’

  ‘Say it, Alice.’

  ‘Well, anyone you might have pissed off? Anyone who might want to harm your career?’

  ‘I don’t think so. And if I have, do you think they would advertise their hate or whatever on a bloody big billboard?’ I sigh. ‘Sorry, did not mean to take it out on you.’

  ‘We’re missing something that’s right in front of us.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I have no idea, though we’ve got to get to the bottom of this, Lily, in case they try again.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Alice. That was one thing I hadn’t even contemplated, and now it’s like a big beacon shining in my mind!’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but we should consider all the options. Even the difficult ones.’

  ‘Have I got an enemy? Only one person hates me, and I have no idea what happened to her. Do you?’ I close my eyes. I can see her face that day. Gloating. ‘It’s been years. Why would she suddenly pop out of the woodwork now? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘No, but maybe it’s time to find out?’

  ‘Can we do this after Christmas? It’s too much for me right now.’

  ‘Sure. We’ll have a lovely Crimbo and then get back on it afterwards. Okay?’

  Chapter Twenty

  WEDNESDAY, 23 DECEMBER – BUSES IN A ROW

  My phone rings. ‘Hiya. It’s me,’ says Alice.

  I am sitting at my desk, slogging through some last-minute details for Mary.

  ‘I know it’s you because your name pops up when you call. You okay?’ I haven’t exactly recovered from my shock, but as I didn’t know what to do about it, I put it to the back of my mind. To work through later, or it would drive me bonkers. The main thing is, Mary has accepted the scans of my illustrations, just about, with minimal grumbling. In other words, saved my bacon. If I’d messed it up, I would have had to start again, and the timeline would have been messed up, and then everything would have been messed up. Let alone the thought it might put my whole career in jeopardy. I’m relying on that money to pay the mortgage and all the mounting Christmas bills. Getting a bank loan would snowball. Funny how you can spend so much and have very little of worth to show for it. I promised myself I would never get into borrowing from Peter to pay Paul. I know too many people who have gone down that route.

  ‘Listen,’ continues Alice. ‘You know I said I wasn’t sure what to do about Christmas? Well, my lot have decided to go on a cruise. Without inviting me, I might add—’

  ‘Would you have wanted to go?’

  ‘Course not!’ The scorn in her voice is palpable. ‘What do you take me for?’

  ‘They probably knew that, and more to the point, I gather you haven’t told them about Matt yet?’

  ‘Not exactly, no.’

  ‘Then they’ve also assumed you’d be spending Christmas with him?’

  There’s a hesitation. ‘He moved out last night. Gone to stay with a mate, so he said.’

  ‘It might be for the best. Give the both of you a breathing space?’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, would you like to have Christmas with me? I don’t know if you’ve finalised any plans yet, and I thought – hey – I can but ask?’

  The relief of not screwing up my mortgage and ending up a homeless person on the street, scavenging through other people’s wheelie bins, makes me a bit euphoric. ‘Hell yeah. I went to Sophie’s last year, so I’m sure they won’t miss me.’ That might be a lie, though some part of me wants to not have to bother; no catching unreliable trains, no dragging mountains of bags and packages, no having to meet Dad’s possible new fling… no missing Mum…

  ‘Okay. Then we need to plan—’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You have never planned anything in your life. You’re such a wing and a prayer girl, whereas I have lists and am organised. I have got most of what we need already in.’ I stop for a moment. ‘Sorry, did you want to come here or go to yours?’

  ‘I think in my current mood, I’d rather be anywhere than here right now.’

  ‘Here it is, then. Goody! We’re going to have such fun!’

  When the phone rings again, I assume it’s Alice calling back.

  ‘What have you forgotten now?’

  ‘Um,’ says Jack, ‘not sure, really.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, Jack. I thought you were Alice. I mean, she’s just called, so I assumed – Oh, never mind. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. You know I said I was going to be at my uncle’s place for Christmas?’

  ‘Okay… yes…’

  There’s silence for a moment.

  ‘Oh, right.’ Jack clears his throat. ‘What I’m trying to say is, he has cancelled due to the family now having a godawful flu. So…’ He clears his throat again. ‘Well, what I’m trying to ask is whether you’d like to spend Christmas with me?’

  There is another silence as I’m somewhat stupefied.

  ‘Lily? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I, er—’

  ‘If you don’t want to, I will not be upset. We’ve only met recently and—’

  ‘No, no. It’s just Alice, you remember Alice? My best friend? She rang a moment ago and asked if I’d like to spend Christmas with her. Buses, you know? Either none or three in a row.’

  Jack makes a strange sound. ‘Right. Okay. Why isn’t she with her boyfriend? I remember you saying he’d moved in with her after you moved out?’

  I sigh. ‘They split up recently.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that. Bummer at Christmas time.’

  I close my eyes. Is this too weird to ask him? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. ‘Could we spend it together? You, me and Alice? Her family are going on a cruise, so she’s got nowhere else to be. I’d feel bad if I blew her out now.’

  ‘Bros over hos, or whatever that saying is?’ He sniggers. ‘Or is it sisters over misters?’

  ‘That’s it, kind of.’

  ‘What if we invite a fourth person? Balance the numbers and make it less like Alice is a gooseberry?’

  ‘I can ask her. Who else do we invite?’

  ‘I could invite one of my mates—’

  ‘A bloke? No, that wouldn’t work as she’d think we were trying to set her up.’

  ‘All right. What about any of your friends? Someone she won’t worry about. Someone she’s okay with?’

  ‘Well, we could see if Rose is here over Christmas?’

  ‘Rose?’

  ‘A new friend we’ve just met. I mean, she’s lovely, and she doesn’t know many people here yet. Shall I run it past Alice first? See if she’s in, and then see if Rose can come?’

  ‘I’ll leave it with you. Whatever the outcome, it’s fine by me.’

  ‘I’ll get back to you asap, Jack.’

  I can hear the doubt in Alice’s voice. ‘Are you sure you want me and Rose there? At your first Crimbo with Mr Perfect? Won’t that cramp your style?’

 

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