by Jill Mansell
‘What a git.’ Gigi pushed the flashing spectacles to the top of her head and said crossly, ‘Poor Harry.’
‘And there’s a photo of Enjay with his new girlfriend.’ Lara held up the magazine so they could all see. ‘Apparently they’re spending Christmas together at his villa in Antigua. You have to admit, she is stunning. Then again, he wouldn’t go for an ugly one, would he?’
‘He’s such a lech though.’ Her lip curling, Gigi said, ‘He’s never going to stick with one girl. Give it a few weeks and he’ll have found someone even prettier.’ She paused. ‘Speaking of pretty girls, wait till you see what Annabel gave me this afternoon. Mum, can you get it out of the cabinet? I can’t reach.’
‘Annabel was here?’ Lara didn’t like the way this made her feel. Not content with bagging Flynn, did Annabel have stepmotherly designs on Gigi too? There was being nice and then there was being downright ingratiating.
‘Isn’t it amazing? I’ve never owned anything so beautiful in my life!’
‘Mm.’ Lara held up the purply-grey silk negligee, shimmering like iridescent suede beneath the unforgiving fluorescent strip light.
‘And guess where it’s from? Harvey Nichols!’ Gigi’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Can you imagine? Annabel finished a twenty-four-hour shift this morning and went straight down to Cabot Circus to buy it for me. She said it gets so hot here on the wards you don’t always want a fluffy dressing gown.’
Feeling ashamed, Lara said, ‘It’s gorgeous.’ Oh good grief, Harvey Nichols. What on earth had it cost?
‘Mum, we were talking about Christmas Day. I said she could always come to our house for lunch if she wanted.’
‘You did?’ It came out quite high-pitched. That wasn’t what she wanted at all. Her brain recoiling from the prospect, Lara said, ‘I thought it was, you know, just going to be us.’
‘I know, but Annabel has to work on Christmas Eve and on Boxing Day . . . and it would be nice for Dad to have her there.’
Oh God, she was officially a mean person and her daughter was a lovely warm generous one. Lara felt ashamed of herself. Carefully folding the silk robe back up and returning it to the bedside cabinet she said, ‘Well, if she doesn’t have anywhere else to go . . .’
‘She’s doing really well,’ the doctor told them on the fifth postoperative day. ‘No signs of septicaemia, thank goodness. Everything’s looking nice and clean. And the scar’s healing nicely. I think we can take this drip down now.’
‘Excellent.’ Gigi beamed up at him. ‘How soon can I go home?’
‘Let’s just keep an eye on you for the next couple of days.’ The doctor closed her notes. ‘But I’m sure you’ll be out of here by Christmas.’
‘Trust me, I’ll be out of here if I have to crawl on my hands and knees,’ said Gigi. ‘No offence, but I’m not missing Christmas at home for anything. Are you single or married?’
He smiled at her bluntness. ‘Actually, I’m single. Why?’
‘Nothing. Just wondered.’
‘What did you say that for?’ Lara gave her a nudge when the doctor had left the ward.
‘He’s about your age, he’s quite good-looking, maybe we could invite him to lunch on Christmas Day.’
‘What?’
‘To even things up a bit,’ Gigi explained. ‘Just a thought.’
‘Well, don’t think. And don’t you dare invite him!’
‘But he might be lonely, and it would really help you—’
‘Stop it. I don’t need that kind of help.’ Lara held up her hand to halt Gigi in her tracks. ‘No, no, no.’
‘It’s leaning over to the left,’ Gigi pronounced. ‘Over a bit . . . over a bit . . . over a bit more . . . oh. Now it’s leaning to the right.’
‘It’s a good job you’re an invalid,’ said Flynn.
Through the branches of the Norway spruce they were struggling to put up, Lara saw his eyes glittering with amusement. Turning to Gigi, she said, ‘Otherwise you’d be leaning to the right too.’
‘I’m giving you constructive criticism.’ From her position on the sofa, queen of all she surveyed, Gigi said, ‘I just want everything to be perfect.’
It was December the twenty-third and she had been discharged from hospital this afternoon. Before bringing her home, Lara and Flynn had gone out and bought the tree Lara had been too superstitious to buy before. New decorations had been added to the old favourites. Not allowed to join in, Gigi had spent the last three hours playing Christmas songs whilst orchestrating operations from the sofa. Strings of fairy lights were artfully intertwined with swathes of ivy from the garden and draped around doorways, cards were strung up on red ribbon and the poinsettias had been accessorised with silver bows. All they had to do now was decorate the tree.
‘It looks brilliant,’ Gigi sighed happily when it was finished. ‘Our first family Christmas together in Bath. That tree smells amazing.’
From the CD player came the first chords of ‘Fairytale Of New York’ by the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl. The song brought back powerful memories for Lara, of herself and Flynn bawling along to it as teenagers. Did he remember that too?
‘Here.’ Flynn, who had to drive back to his flat, poured more Prosecco into Lara’s glass.
‘Thanks.’ It had been such a happy evening, the two of them working together to get everything ready in time. And the house not only looked perfect, it felt . . . joyful. Her eyes prickling unexpectedly at the memory of those unhappy Christmases after her mother had died, Lara blinked and took a glug of the icy fizz.
‘Are you OK?’ Flynn was watching her.
She nodded. ‘Just glad we’re all . . . here.’
‘I knew there was something missing,’ Gigi declared. ‘We don’t have any mistletoe!’
‘They didn’t have any left,’ said Flynn. ‘All sold out.’
‘You bought that huge bunch at the market,’ Lara innocently reminded him.
He gave her an equally innocent look. ‘Oh, that mistletoe? All the berries dropped off.’
‘Scumbag.’ Would he remember?
His mouth twitched. ‘Maggot,’ murmured Flynn.
That was it, their jokey exchange from twenty years ago. He hadn’t forgotten. The knowledge gave her an inner glow.
‘What are you two whispering about?’ Gigi demanded.
‘Nothing.’ He checked his watch. ‘Damn, is that the time? I really have to go.’
‘Mustn’t be late.’ From the sofa, Gigi held out her arms for a goodbye hug. ‘Thanks for helping Mum with all this. Say hi to Annabel from me.’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’
Lara turned towards the tree and adjusted one of the glass angels, the secret thrill of their shared joke abruptly negated by all the love in the room for Annabel.
It didn’t take much, these days, to demolish a warm glow.
By midnight the two of them had finished watching the Christmas edition of Never Mind the Buzzcocks. They’d also managed, impressively, to demolish an entire box of mince pies.
Because Gigi was unable to reach her feet – as a result of the surgery rather than heroic mince pie consumption – Lara had given her a pedicure and painted her toenails a festive shade of Opi red. Now, with her bare legs still draped across Lara’s lap, Gigi said, ‘Have you bought all my presents yet?’
‘Nearly.’ Somehow, between the hospital visits and working at the shop she had managed to cram in the necessary frantic bursts of shopping. ‘Why? Have you thought of something else you want?’
A pause. ‘No, nothing new. I just wondered.’
‘Well, go on, tell me.’ Lara gave her knee a double tap. ‘What does that mean, nothing new?’
Gigi shrugged and gazed at her toes. ‘Just . . . the present I wanted more than anything, I can’t have. It’s OK, I know that. It’s just a shame, that’s all.’
For a moment Lara thought she was talking about a once-in-a-lifetime holiday or a car. Then she saw the look Gigi was giving her and understood.
; ‘Yes, that would have been the best present of all,’ Gigi went on. ‘You and Dad getting together. But you wouldn’t do it, and now it’s too late.’
Too late. Those were the words that had been haunting Lara for weeks. She reached over and brushed a couple of mince-pie crumbs from the front of Gigi’s pyjama top. ‘I’ve told you before, it was the sensible thing to do. You know that.’
‘You thought it was the sensible thing to do. But, Mum, what if you were wrong?’
The only lights in the room came from the flickering, lit-up Christmas tree and the candles clustered in front of the fireplace. Gigi’s grey eyes, with the candle flames reflected in them, were huge and questioning.
‘I did it for you.’ Just saying the words made Lara’s throat ache.
‘But I didn’t want you to do it for me.’
‘That’s why you’re the child and I’m the parent. Sometimes we have to do something because we know it’s for the best.’
‘I still think you’re wrong,’ said Gigi. ‘I know how much you like him. And he definitely liked you. Until Annabel came along.’
Liked. In the past tense.
‘Well, it’s done now.’
‘And I feel as if it’s all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, you and Dad would be together now, because there wouldn’t be any reason for you not to be. And the two of you could be, like, a million per cent happy. For ever. But you wouldn’t let it happen, so now he’s found someone else and you’re miserable and on your own.’
Ouch.
‘I am not miserable! Don’t say that! I’ve got you, haven’t I?’ Lara gave Gigi’s arm a squeeze. ‘Everything’s fine.’
Gigi rested her head against her shoulder and said in a small voice, ‘Yes, but you can’t say you’re a million per cent happy. Can I ask you something?’
‘You know you can.’
‘Do you ever feel a bit jealous of Annabel?’
Lara hesitated. ‘No.’
‘Mum, be honest. You must, sometimes. Just admit it.’
‘OK. Sometimes.’ She’d always done her best not to lie to her daughter. ‘Not that it changes anything, but I suppose I do. A bit.’ She raised a warning eyebrow. ‘But that’s just between us. No need to go blabbing it around.’
Gigi lifted her head and gazed up at her. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
Two brilliant things and one amusing one happened on Christmas Eve.
First, Gigi called Lara at the jewellers and said, ‘Dad just phoned. Annabel has to work a double shift on Christmas Day so she won’t be coming over to us after all.’
Yessssss!
Aloud, Lara said, ‘Oh dear, poor Annabel, that’s a shame. Can’t be much fun having to work on Christmas Day.’
‘Apparently she doesn’t mind. Oh, and there’s someone else here who’d like a word with you.’
‘Who?’
‘Hang on, I’ll pass you over.’ There was a clunk and a clatter, then Don said cheerily, ‘I hope you’re looking after that shop for me.’
‘Yay, you’re here already! Fantastic!’
‘It was starting to snow up there so we set out first thing, before it could stop us getting down. Nettie drove like a . . . well, like she always does.’
‘I want to see you,’ Lara exclaimed. ‘I might close up early.’
‘You will not.’ Don sounded appalled. ‘Are you mad? It’s Christmas Eve. Men who’ve left everything till the last minute will be desperate this afternoon. You can close at six and not a minute before.’
‘Honestly,’ said Lara. ‘Do you nag Nettie like this?’
He burst out laughing. ‘Good grief, no! Wouldn’t dare!’
‘Thank God you’re still open.’ Bursting into the shop at twenty to six, Joel did a double-take when he saw Lara. ‘Oh, hello, I’d forgotten you worked here.’ He flashed her a harassed but still dazzling smile. ‘How are you? Good?’
‘I’m great,’ said Lara. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I need some Christmas presents. Left it a bit late.’ He was already scanning the contents of the glass cabinets, sliding past the more expensive items and coming to rest on the silver bangles. ‘They’re nice. Do girls like that kind of thing?’
Lara nodded. ‘So long as you don’t go for the skinny cheap ones.’ She paused. ‘The bangles, I mean. Not the girls.’
He grinned and she unlocked the cabinet. Within thirty seconds he’d decided on the style he wanted.
‘That one. Do you do gift-wrapping?’
‘We do.’ Precisely for all those men who couldn’t be bothered to wrap their partner’s presents themselves.
‘Brilliant.’ Relieved, Joel took a credit card from his wallet. ‘Can I have three?’
Then at last it was Christmas morning. And Lara was in tears.
‘I knew this would happen,’ said Nettie with an air of long-suffering.
Lara wiped her eyes. Listening to The Snowman always had this effect on her. But usually she wasn’t wearing mascara.
‘And I’m the one chopping onions,’ Nettie marvelled.
‘You said you wanted to make the stuffing.’ Lara, who had been tasked with wrapping bacon around tiny sausages, pushed up her sleeves. ‘I could have bought ready-made.’
‘Mine’s miles better and you know it.’ Nettie smiled at Don as he came into the kitchen with a bottle of cava.
‘She’s right.’ He popped the cork and topped up their glasses. ‘This lady’s the best cook in the world.’
And he was looking very well on it. In only a matter of weeks, good home cooking and no junk food whatsoever had trimmed a stone off Don. His eyes were brighter, there was colour in his cheeks and he was happier and healthier than Lara had ever seen him look before.
‘Brrrr, it’s freezing out there.’ Back from her visit to Joel’s parents, Evie came bursting into the kitchen. She would never become their daughter-in-law, but Ray and Bonnie had accepted that now and still loved her anyway. She had an extra glow about her too, these days. She and Ethan were a wonderful match for each other; sometimes you could just tell that a relationship was meant to last. Lara was thrilled for her, and glad they were taking things steadily. Evie was staying here for lunch at around two, whilst Ethan socialised with his guests at the Ellison, then later she would join him at the hotel.
‘Ooh, thanks,’ Evie exclaimed, accepting a glass of cava from Don.
‘. . . Walking in a winter wonderland,’ Don sang, admiring the view from the kitchen window. Last night a thin layer of snow had come to rest on Bath, with clear skies and sub-zero temperatures conspiring to cover it up with a sparkling topcoat of frost. Now the sky was blue and the sun had come out but the air outside was still so cold nothing was melting.
‘Yay, Dad’s here!’ Her ears attuned to the sound of his car, Gigi invalid-hobbled across the hall and waited in the open doorway for Flynn to make his way up the path. ‘Hello, Happy Christmas!’ She let out a squeal of delight as he reached her. ‘I just realised I’ve never said Happy Christmas to my dad before!’
Lara, watching from the kitchen window, swallowed the lump in her throat. That was her fault too. Flynn was loaded down with bags of presents but he stopped and put them down on the snow-dusted gravel in order to wrap his arms around Gigi. From here she could no longer make out what was being said, but the bond between them was unmistakable.
They loved each other.
It also looked as if he was determined to play catch-up and shower his daughter with eighteen years’ worth of presents.
The next minute they appeared in the kitchen. Flynn greeted everyone, rubbing his cold hands together and looking so outdoorsy and handsome that Lara’s stomach did that familiar giddy dolphin dive with an extra swoop for Christmas. He was wearing a dark red lambswool sweater over a white shirt and charcoal wool trousers. He also smelled amazing. When it was her turn he said, ‘Hey, Happy Christmas,’ and gave her a kiss on the cheek, less than an inch from her mouth.
Less than an inch. Imagine if she’d sn
eakily turned her head at just the right moment . . .
But no. Be sensible. Instead she said, ‘You too. How many presents have you bought Gigi?’
Flynn shrugged, unabashed. ‘Probably too many. Don’t tell me off.’
‘Poor Annabel, having to work.’
‘I know. Can I ask you something?’
Lara’s pulse quickened. The last time someone had uttered those words to her, it had been Gigi wanting to know if she was jealous of Annabel. Warily she said, ‘What?’
Flynn reached out and touched her cheeks. ‘Why have you got mascara all over here, here and here?’
Bugger. And no one had bothered to tell her.
‘Sorry, The Snowman made me cry.’
‘Where is he, out in the back garden?’ Amused, Flynn said, ‘Want me to go and rip his carrot nose off?’
‘Come on, put everything down, we’re all going through to the living room.’ Gigi reappeared next to them, her eyes shining. ‘Time to open the presents!’
Gigi had been spoiled, the living-room carpet was awash with wrapping paper and Flynn was the proud new owner of a computer mouse mat with a photo of his daughter on it.
‘In case I forget what you look like.’ He grinned at her, because she’d also given him tea towels printed with images of herself as well as a photo in a black lacquered frame of the two of them together.
Lara was embarrassed. Terrified at the prospect of being caught out not buying Flynn a Christmas present, she had got him a midnight-blue Oswald Boateng shirt. Whilst it was good that he’d been really pleased with it, he hadn’t offered her anything in return, which meant she was now left feeling more awkward than if she’d not bothered in the first place.
Then Gigi reached for the last two presents under the tree, resplendent in black and silver striped wrapping paper.
‘Those are for your mum,’ Flynn told her.
Lara exhaled with relief; there was nothing more mortifying than one-sided giving. Except he’d got her two, which meant she now owed him one. OK, don’t worry about it for the moment. Also, how exciting . . .