by Dani Atkins
Neither of us noticed when we slipped into Christmas Day but as the clock in the hall chimed the half hour, Pete raised his head from mine.
‘Do you think it’s safe to assume Noah is now asleep, because I think my days of making love on a cold kitchen floor might be over.’
Unbelievably, I blushed, which he found absolutely delightful.
Hand in hand we climbed the stairs, Noah’s Christmas stocking swinging over Pete’s shoulder. We crossed the hallway and peered in through our son’s open door. Noah had fallen asleep with his face turned towards the window, still waiting for his Christmas magic.
‘He’s out like a light,’ whispered Pete, tiptoeing in exaggerated steps to the foot of Noah’s bed and leaving the stocking. I stared at the gentle rise and fall of the shape beneath the duvet. There was something about it that made me look twice before allowing Pete to tug me gently out of the room.
His arms were already around me and his mouth on mine as he fumbled behind his back for the door handle to the room that would no longer be just mine from this moment on. We tumbled into the bedroom, but as I pushed the door to a close I realised I’d been right.
Across the space of the hallway, in a glimmering shaft of moonlight, I saw one slender arm emerge from beneath the duvet and punch the air in victory.
43
Beth
‘Happy Christmas!’
‘You’re a bit early – it’s still only Christmas Eve here. And isn’t it the middle of the night in Sydney?’
I’d still been half asleep from an afternoon nap when the familiar Skype ring tone had me hurrying down Liam’s staircase to reach my laptop.
‘It’s nearly five and the boys will be awake soon, so I wanted to say hello before it starts getting crazy at this end.’
Liam’s kitchen, like the rest of the house, had been in darkness when I’d answered the call and settled myself on one of the chrome bar stools. I was halfway through asking Karen how our parents were enjoying their stay when unthinkingly I reached over and switched on the light, illuminating the room behind me. I instantly realised my mistake, but it was too late, for Karen was already craning towards her own screen.
‘Whose kitchen is that? Where are you?’
A hundred lies ran through my head, and none of them were believable. ‘I’m at a friend’s house. I’m staying here for Christmas.’
‘What friend? Who?’
‘No one you know. Now, did the presents I sent arrive safely?’ I should have known better than to think I could distract her that easily.
‘Are you with who I think you’re with?’ she asked perceptively.
Liam was out, but could return at any minute, and the last thing I wanted was to be caught discussing him with my sister in his own home.
‘Yes, I am. And I know what you’re going to say. I promise I’ll explain everything, but not right now.’
I could see how hard this was for her. It didn’t matter how old we were, or that we lived on opposite sides of the world. She was my champion, fighting my corner and on my side, even when she believed I was in the wrong. Like now.
There was an incredibly long silence, which finally she broke. ‘Just tell me this: are you all right?’
I nodded, and something on my face drew her once again closer to her tablet screen. ‘You look different somehow.’ Were her sisterly powers of observation so great she could actually spot I was down one internal organ since we last spoke? But then she smiled, almost in wonder. ‘You look…more at peace, somehow.’
Her words surprised me, because even ten thousand miles away she’d managed to spot something I hadn’t even acknowledged myself. I was feeling more settled than I had in a very long time. And I think I knew why.
Somewhere in Sydney, out of camera range, came a loud shriek, which sounded like the cry of a native bird. It wasn’t. Karen’s smile widened. ‘I do believe that was the sound of two young boys ripping open their presents. I’m going to have to go, hon.’
I blew a kiss at the screen. ‘Wish everyone happy Christmas from me and tell them I love them.’ My voice sounded thick with emotion and a sudden longing to be on the other side of the world. I kept waving at the screen as Karen disappeared into a mosaic of dissolving pixels.
Next year, I promised myself as I drew in a deep calming breath, I’ll be with them all for Christmas next year. I inhaled again, and my nose twitched as it picked up a subtle aroma. Pine… and not the disinfectant type. Like a bloodhound following a scent, I slid off the stool and let my nose lead me out of the kitchen, into the hallway, and finally to the closed door of the lounge. I was pretty sure what I’d find on the other side of it.
The tree was huge. Easily double the size of the one in my own home. It was also right in the middle of the floor, as though Liam had run out of strength to move it even one centimetre further. I walked up and stood before it, so close that the tips of its branches tickled against my face. It was a giant redwood of a Christmas tree, but what it represented was even more enormous. This was the first tree Liam had brought into the house in eight years. And he’d done it for me. And right now I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.
The sudden trilling of a phone startled me. It appeared to be coming from a corner of the room that, thanks to the tree, was currently inaccessible. After the fifth ring, Liam’s answering machine kicked in.
‘Hello there,’ said a cheery voice. Just two words, but they already told me that I would have liked her. There was a genuine warmth and friendliness to Anna’s tone that lived on in the recording.
‘I’m really sorry, but neither of us can get to the phone right now, so you know what you’re going to have to do.’ She sounded as if she’d been on the verge of laughter when she’d recorded the message, and I would have bet anything that Liam had been right there in the room with her, smiling at his wife.
My eyes felt scratchy and I blinked furiously, knowing that if I allowed even one tear to escape, I’d never be able to stem the tide. I’m not sure what upset me most: that in all these years Liam had never recorded over his wife’s voice, or how easy it was to picture him in this empty house, listening to that message play again and again and again.
A long beep from the answering machine made me jump, and then a new voice filled the room as Liam’s caller began to speak.
‘Hi, Liam, it’s David. I just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas, mate. Charlotte and I are really going to miss seeing you this year, but we totally understand why you couldn’t make it. So have a good one, and we’ll catch up in the new year for a drink or something.’
Through the branches of the tree I could see the machine blinking like a winking dragon, long after David-Whoever-He-Was had hung up and gone back to his own life. Liam had clearly intended to spend Christmas with those friends, until he’d found out about me. Why had he lied and told me he had no plans? Just when I thought I was beginning to understand this man a little more, I uncovered yet another layer that left me confused.
*
Liam’s headlights scythed through the window and into the darkened room a short while later. By the time his key was in the lock, I’d replaced the vaguely troubled expression on my face with something far more innocuous. He smiled as he saw me sitting in one of the chairs angled beside the fireplace.
‘You found the tree,’ he said artlessly.
‘It’s a little hard to miss.’
Our heads turned towards the pine and despite myself I began to laugh. ‘Would you like a hand moving it into the corner, or shall we just dance around it like a maypole?’
Liam’s grin was wide, but his voice was stern as he reminded me of my limitations. ‘Absolutely no lifting, remember?’
He pulled off his jumper before attempting to drag the tree across the room, and the sight of his broad shoulders and defined arms beneath his thin T-shirt took me by surprise. He was far more muscular than I’d imagined… more than Tim had been. It was a vaguely disquieting thought that felt a little
disloyal, so I pushed it away into a dark corner of my mind where it couldn’t bother me.
My suggestion of making popcorn garlands for the tree, in the absence of decorations, was quickly shot down. ‘Not unless we want to spend Christmas at the vet’s surgery,’ Liam said dryly, giving Sally, who was snoozing by the fire, a meaningful look. ‘She’ll eat the lot as soon as our backs are turned. Anyway, I have decorations.’
He was gone no more than ten minutes, returning with a large cardboard box still covered with a film of grime from the garage. He set it down beside the tree and I bent to brush off most of the dust, revealing when I did a large handwritten label stuck onto the lid. Behind me, I heard Liam’s indrawn breath as my hand swept the label clean. I understood. I was exactly the same whenever I unexpectedly came upon Tim’s writing on something. Anna had written ‘Fragile’ and ‘Tree Decorations’ in neat cursive script, the kind teachers use when writing on a blackboard. Yet again the peculiar similarities in our lives threw me for a moment. Both of them had been teachers. Both of them were gone, and yet both of them were still very much here.
Liam was remarkably tolerant when I insisted that decorating a tree without Christmas music in the background was practically a criminal offence. With carols playing quietly from my phone, we set to work on the tree in companionable silence. I was confined to decorating only the lower branches, directing operations from ground level as Liam climbed a stepladder to reach the top of the tree. He was busy winding a string of lights through the branches when I delved once more into the box of decorations and extracted an oblong package cocooned in bubblewrap.
The sellotape was brittle with age as I pulled the wrapping apart to reveal an egg box. I opened the lid and realised at once what I was looking at. The vibrant patterns painstakingly painted on each silver bauble were instantly recognisable from her paintings. Tiny crystals stuck on each glass ball winked up at me from the light of the fire.
Liam had descended the ladder without making a sound, and was beside me before I had time to close the box.
‘She made a new one every Christmas that we were married. She said by the time we were done there ought to be around sixty of them.’ I looked down sadly at the seven baubles in the egg tray and then at the five empty spaces. Very carefully I went to close the box, but Liam’s large, warm hand settled over mine, stopping me.
‘What are you doing?’ He sounded genuinely confused.
‘Putting them back in the box. Keeping them safe. They’re too precious to risk breaking, aren’t they?’
He shook his head, his hand still covering mine. ‘No. Use them. That’s why she made them, not for them to sit in some dusty box at the back of the garage. In fact,’ he declared, getting suddenly to his feet and walking towards a rustic chest of drawers on the other side of the room, ‘I have something here for you.’
I felt confused and wrong-footed. My heart was beating faster and I didn’t know if that was because Liam’s hand had been on mine, or how curiously abandoned I felt now that it was gone. He was back in an instant, carrying a plain white envelope, which he passed to me. Printed on the front was my name in his familiar bold pen strokes.
‘Oh. I didn’t know we were doing cards,’ I said awkwardly. I’d ordered him a small gift for the following day, but buying a card simply hadn’t occurred to me.
‘It’s not a Christmas card, Beth.’
I dipped my head, allowing my hair to provide a privacy curtain so he couldn’t see the expression on my face as I slid my finger beneath the seal and ripped open the envelope. The style I had so easily recognised on the Christmas tree decorations was replicated on the front of the card. In fact, that particular piece looked incredibly familiar.
‘You have this painting of Anna’s on your office wall,’ I told him.
He smiled, looking pleased that I’d recognised it. ‘Open the card,’ he instructed.
I had to read it three times – not because I didn’t understand the words, but because it took that long for me to get control of my voice.
‘You’re having an exhibition of Anna’s paintings,’ I said, holding the invitation out to him, as though he might have forgotten what it said.
‘I am,’ he agreed. ‘In February. And I’d very much like it if you’d come with me as my guest.’ I could feel my mouth dropping open to form a small O of surprise. ‘Because without you, it never would have happened.’
I glanced back down at the unfamiliar gallery name. ‘You’ve found a different gallery,’ I observed, not surprised in the least that he hadn’t chosen to go with Andrew Cartwright’s establishment.
‘This is a much smaller place,’ he said. ‘Less flashy, and far more Anna.’
‘What made you change your mind?’
He looked surprised that I needed to ask. ‘You. Of course, you.’
It was suddenly much warmer in the room, or so it seemed to me.
‘You were right. I was holding on to the past so tightly I was in danger of suffocating it.’ I didn’t remember saying those exact words, but it didn’t seem the right moment to correct him. ‘What you said about Anna and how she would have wanted people to see the work she loved made me think that perhaps you understood her better than I did. Because you were right. It was what Anna would have wanted.’
I nodded encouragingly, hopefully without any trace of ‘I told you so’ on my face.
‘I spent months trying to find a way of telling you that I was sorry, that I finally understood what you were saying. But…’
‘But?’ I prompted.
‘I didn’t know how to. No, it’s more than that. I was scared of getting it wrong again. So I waited, and waited. And when I finally told myself not to be such a damn idiot and just go to the shop and see you – you weren’t there. You were on an operating table, with no family around to support you, doing something amazing for your little boy.’
My eyes were glistening in the light of the fire. We had unexpectedly arrived at a place I hadn’t planned on venturing yet. But strangely the moment felt right to say the words out loud.
‘Not my little boy. Izzy’s little boy.’
What had I been expecting? A gasp of shock? A recoil in surprise? A denial? I got none of those. Instead, Liam just nodded slowly, his eyes never once leaving mine.
‘You knew this was going to happen?’ My voice was incredulous, because for me the decision was still a surprise.
‘Yes. I did.’
‘When? How long?’
There was such a look of tenderness on his face that it could have easily broken my heart, if it wasn’t already in pieces.
‘When we went down to the ward on the day you left the hospital. I saw it then in the way you looked at Noah.’ He reached over and slotted his fingers through mine. ‘I saw the goodbye in your eyes.’
‘It’s the right thing to do,’ I said, as though Liam was the one in need of convincing, which I really didn’t think was the case.
‘Something has felt wrong ever since I had the operation. Not physically—’ I said quickly when I saw his eyes darken in alarm. ‘Something in here,’ I said, pointing at the region where I thought my heart resided. ‘And also in here,’ I added, my finger lifting to my temple. ‘I think I always knew deep down that this was the right thing to do. I just got a little… dazzled… by Izzy’s offer. It took a while for me to see clearly again.’
‘When will you tell her?’
‘After Christmas,’ I said, surprised by the feeling of rightness that seemed to settle over me, as I spoke the words out loud for the first time.
‘I’ll tell them that this time I’m walking away for good. No contact, no nothing. I’ll be out of their lives forever.’
*
It was a subdued Christmas, but it was just what I needed. It had been a long time since I’d cooked in a kitchen alongside anyone, and I enjoyed it far more than I had expected.
After eating more food than a human should possibly consume, we moved once again to the lounge.
The tree was twinkling prettily in the corner of the room, and ignoring the armchairs I settled myself on the floor in front of the crackling fire, to see it better. We’d exchanged gifts that morning, and Liam had seemed genuinely pleased with the cashmere scarf I’d chosen for him. I’d had to bite my lip to stop myself admitting I’d picked it because it was the exact same shade of grey as his eyes, which was an odd thing for one friend to say to another.
He’d bought me a designer handbag and almost in the same breath as giving it had told me he’d kept the receipt in case I wanted to change it, which I found oddly endearing. Not that I would change it, I thought now, as my fingers grazed over the bright red leather.
‘I could have gone for black or brown,’ Liam confided, coming towards me carrying two glasses of champagne. ‘But somehow red seemed more “you”. Bold and vibrant, and brave.’
‘Is that how you see me?’ I asked, wondering where that odd little wobble in my voice had come from.
He passed me one of the delicate crystal flutes, putting it in my outstretched hand while his eyes never once left mine.
‘I don’t think you have any idea of exactly how I see you, Beth.’
My heart was thumping all the way up to the back of my throat.
‘I think… I think maybe I might do… but…’
I was almost too scared to look at him, but when I did there was a soft smile on his lips, and no blame in his eyes.
‘But you’re not there yet?’
I didn’t want to lie to him. Nor hurt him, but I had to be honest.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘That’s okay. I knew that anyway.’ He looked perfectly at peace with what I was saying. ‘There’s no rush or pressure here. We have all the time in the world.’
As much as I wanted to leave this topic, I had to be honest with him.
‘What if I’m never ready? What if I always feel this way?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Liam said gently, and for a moment everything he felt was right there, shining brightly in his eyes. Then with a single blink it was gone again. ‘These things have a way of working out exactly how they’re meant to.’