Not having been aware of anyone coming from behind, Hannah jumped. ‘Turkey and Tinsel?’
The woman fell in step, pulling up her hood. ‘I thought you might be at the Fernleigh Hotel along the cliff. Their Christmas breaks are called Turkey and Tinsel. If you’re one of the solo folk we can walk back together.’
‘Oh. I’m not, sorry.’ Hannah tried not to appear terse, to adjust from solitude to company. ‘Is Turkey and Tinsel fun?’
The woman laughed. ‘Well. Needs must. A lot of people on their own. The hotel staff make a big effort. This is my third year, since my husband and I split up.’
Not everyone had people with whom to share Christmas but Hannah wasn’t sure how you reacted to it. Sympathy? Patronising. Questions? Rude. ‘Have a wonderful time,’ she said, eventually.
The woman’s smile wavered. ‘It’ll be OK. Merry Christmas! Must get on. Don’t want to be late for lunch.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ Hannah echoed, as the woman hurried off.
She watched her grow smaller and smaller until she disappeared around the curve of the path, her words to her parents echoing in her head: ‘… you’ll have Rob and Leesa and Nan. Everyone at The Three Fishes and The Angel, everyone you’ve known your whole life long. They’re here for you.’
Jeremy’s response rang loud in her imagination: ‘And for you, Hannah. Don’t forget that. And for you.’ Years of family Christmases flew at her. Mince pies, Christmas lunch, crackers, silly hats, wine that made Nan sleepy, carefully selected gifts. Mum cooking, Dad carving, Rob supplying drinks. Villagers dropping in. There would be turkey and tinsel in Middledip too – but a hell of a lot more. Warmth. Laughter. Love. Caring. Her people. Her place.
It was too much to give up to avoid Nico and the painful truth.
She about-faced. Instead of fighting her, now the wind supported her and made retracing her steps easy. When she reached the right spot, she turned onto the scrubby grass and saw the pea-soup green bulk of The Bus.
Just waiting.
Hannah and The Bus rumbled into Middledip at eight that evening and parked outside her parents’ house where fairy lights glowed all around the garden like a swarm of fireflies. All the windows were illuminated. Her parents were at home.
Everything about Hannah ached, from her heart, which seemed to know it might be near Nico, to her bum, on which she’d sat in endless strings of traffic as everyone headed home for Christmas. Her stomach rumbled as if it scented home cooking, then the door opened and Mo was there in fluffy slippers and an apron depicting lugubrious reindeer. Hannah clambered stiffly from The Bus.
‘We’d just about given you up.’ The tremor in Mo’s voice didn’t come from the arctic wind blasting up the garden path.
Eyes burning, Hannah dived into her mother’s arms to be hugged and hugged like nothing else mattered. Mo murmured, ‘Let’s get you upstairs. We’ve got the neighbours in.’
Hannah stumbled into the hall as Jeremy emerged from the sitting room, shutting the door on laughter and conversation, and hugged her every bit as tightly as Mo had. ‘I’ll bring your stuff in. You go with your mum.’
She was home.
Upstairs, Mo didn’t ask a single question. ‘We’ve got a buffet going but if you don’t want to see anyone ping me a text and I’ll bring you a plate up.’
Hannah sniffed. ‘Nico’s not downstairs, is he?’
Mo looked surprised. ‘No, pet.’
Jeremy puffed up with Hannah’s case and a glass of red wine. ‘Here you are, my darling.’
Hannah was wordlessly, pathetically grateful. She even, after an hour to shower and dry her windswept hair, went down and joined the neighbours she’d known for years in scoffing pork pies and mini quiches and another glass of wine. After days of self-imposed exile it was bliss to hold hands with Nan, who had two weeks till her cast came off, and bathe in the light of a Christmas tree that, amongst elegant shop-bought baubles, sported decorations she’d made at school.
If she left the chat to others, nobody minded.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Christmas morning. Hannah could hear Mo and Jeremy chatting cheerfully downstairs against the background of ‘Silent Night’ on the radio. The choir’s exquisite voices reminded her of Lucia in Älgäng church but she refused to let tears fill her eyes. In her childhood room she may be but she was an adult. Her wobble was over. Christmas was a good time for new beginnings.
Her phone lay in her hand like a ticking time bomb. Should she read her messages? There would probably be words from Nico like ‘explain’ and ‘sorry’ and ‘goodbye’.
Not today, she decided. Today her smile was going to be as bright as Christmas lights. She refused to spoil anybody’s day.
Dumping her phone on the dressing table she showered, dressed in a turquoise top and black trousers that would survive the odd splash of gravy and whisked her hair up into a glittery slide. She ran downstairs. ‘Merry Christmas!’ she cried, giving each of her parents a hug.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Their arms were strong and warm and they beamed with love and joy.
Mo said, ‘Just go get Nan, will you, dear? She can’t walk with her parcels and her arm. She’s coming for breakfast so we can do presents after.’
‘No problem,’ Hannah breezed. She checked the parcels she’d left beneath their tree last weekend, flinching to see Mo had apparently not found time to pass on those for Nico and the girls.
She didn’t glance in the direction of Little Lane as she bowled her mum’s car down to Rotten Row but bounced into Nan’s house calling, ‘Merry Christmas!’
‘Merry Christmas, duck.’ Nan was dressed in her posh frock and just needed to be zipped up, then they drove straight back to her parents’ house, Hannah lugging in Nan’s black bin liner of gifts.
The morning passed in a welter of preparing food, eating food and exchanging gifts to the accompaniment of a carol concert on TV. Rob and Leesa arrived with their gifts wrapped in red and gold, looking happy and relaxed. Hannah received jumpers and boots, make-up and perfume, vouchers and wine. Mo tripped as she carried a box of chocolates as ‘breakfast afters’ and showered everyone with Milk Tray, making them all howl with laughter.
It was a wonderful, jolly, family Christmas Day, peeling sprouts or wrapping pigs in their blankets, laughing and chattering. Jeremy and Rob set the dining table, their voices the only male ones as Brett was with his daughters and not seeing Nan till evening. Leesa, who was artistic, folded dark green paper napkins into Christmas trees. ‘You look as if you’ve made loads,’ Hannah commented, unfastening the cellophane on the box of crackers.
Leesa cocked an eyebrow. Marriage seemed to have enhanced her sweet prettiness. ‘Mo said nine.’
‘She probably looked at her notes upside down,’ Hannah giggled. ‘You know how she writes herself a schedule of what to do and when to do it. I only count six people.’
The only tense moment was when Hannah came upon her parents in the kitchen and heard her dad hiss, ‘Mo, I think we ought to tell Hannah about Nico.’
‘No, don’t!’ Hannah said quickly, before Mo could reply. ‘It’s no accident that I haven’t asked about him. Let’s not spoil today. Please.’
Mo looked at Jeremy smugly through a cloud of steam as she drained the parboiled potatoes ready to throw them in the oil to roast. ‘See.’
Jeremy rolled his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know—’
Mo gave her husband a hug. ‘She said she doesn’t want to be told. Let’s respect her wishes.’
Wishes, Hannah thought with a pang, remembering the half-formed wish she’d made in the Gold Room. If she’d got her wish, today would have been spent with Nico, Josie and Maria, glorying in the bonds they’d formed in snowy Sweden – or bonds she’d thought they’d formed. The snowman family in Lars’s back garden was all that was left of that, unless a thaw had already turned it to puddles.
Jeremy hesitated, then seemed to resign himself. ‘Whatever you want, love.’
It was an h
our later and Hannah was feeling overheated, stirring gravy with one hand and bread sauce with the other, when she heard someone go to the front door and open it. Rob’s voice said, ‘Oh! Hello!’
Then Hannah froze as a familiar, high, excited voice called, ‘Merry Christmas!’ and a shriller, younger one echoed, ‘Many Nissmass!’
The third voice was deep and male. ‘Merry Christmas, Rob. Here’s some wine – stop jumping about, Josie – and chocolate mints. Maria, wipe your feet, please.’
Hannah’s knees turned to butter. ‘Whoops,’ said Mo, taking the gravy pan off the heat. ‘Let’s try not to boil it over.’
Slowly, Hannah turned accusing eyes on her mother, whose round face was redder than her Christmas jumper. Mo took the bread sauce off Hannah as well, her eyes huge and apprehensive. ‘We invited them for Christmas lunch. There’s a good reason and you did say—’
Hannah didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Panic boiled the blood in her ears. The room receded and rushed back. Nine Christmas-tree napkins had been the correct number. Nico was here and she’d have to face him. Every drop of comfort she’d been soaking up from Christmas alone with her lovely family evaporated. ‘MUM! How could you—?’ she began.
‘HANNAH!’ Josie flew down the short hall. ‘Hannah, where’ve you been? I thought we were going to make decorations and you’d help me wrap our present for Dad. Never mind,’ she ended consolingly, winding her arms around Hannah’s waist and gazing up at her with starry eyes. ‘We’re having Christmas dinner together.’
Then Maria’s short legs caught up and she hurled herself on Hannah too, demanding, ‘Up, ’Annah, up!’ and holding out her arms.
Josie, with big-sister pragmatism, scooped Maria up to join the cuddle. Hannah’s eyes burned as she clutched the children to her. She hadn’t let herself think about how much she’d missed them in the past few days. They – and Nico – were not hers to love.
Then awareness danced across her skin and he was in the room, his eyes blue and watchful. ‘God Jul,’ he said softly.
‘God Jul.’ She couldn’t read his expression because he was a tear-drenched blur. She put Maria down and freed herself from Josie. ‘Why don’t you run and see Nan Heather in the sitting room? I’m helping my mum with the meal,’ she suggested brightly.
Mo began, ‘I’m sure—’
‘I’m helping in here,’ Hannah muttered fiercely, turning her back on Nico. After a few moments, she heard his voice in the next room, telling Rob he’d fetch Maria’s high chair from the car.
It took her several minutes of straining veg and slapping it into serving dishes before she could trust herself to look at Mo, who’d been working in uncharacteristic silence. Awash with every emotion from misery to horror to anger that seeing Nico had threatened to reduce her to tears, she was tempted to strop out like a teenager. ‘You deliberately misinterpreted my wishes when I said I didn’t want to know anything about Nico,’ she muttered.
Then she saw the tears trembling on her mother’s lashes. ‘Sorry,’ Mo whispered. ‘I came over romantic when I invited him. He was so pleased. I thought he might rush in and sweep you off your feet. It seemed like a good reason. But he didn’t. Oh, the look on your face! Hannah, lovey, I’m sorry.’
Hannah’s heart melted. ‘Do you know where Loren is?’ Now she’d been flung into Nico’s presence she might as well face the worst.
Mo shook her head, wiping her eyes on her apron. ‘He said you deserved to hear about her directly from him.’
‘Right.’ Hannah’s heavy heart felt as if it was pressing on her lungs. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to avoid. But things can’t be avoided, can they? Let’s eat Christmas dinner while the food’s hot and delicious. I’ll pin on my happy face and quietly make an arrangement to talk to Nico later.’
Mo heaved a deep sigh. ‘OK.’ Then she sailed into the dining room with a cheery, ‘We’re about to bring out the food. Rob, will you be able to help Nan cutting hers up? Jeremy, wine needs putting on the table, dear.’
‘Oh, the napkins are Christmas trees!’ Josie cried. ‘Come on, Maria. I’ll help you in your high chair because we’re going to have a lovely lunch.’
‘Lunch!’ yodelled Maria, lifting her foot into Josie’s cupped hands to be thrown up into her high chair as if she were mounting a horse.
‘That’s their latest trick,’ Nico told Hannah drily.
‘Clever girls!’ Hannah ferried plates and dishes from the kitchen. As promised, she kept her smile pinned in place, though Rob raised his eyebrows at her in a silent question as to what the hell was going on. Hannah just smiled through Josie’s account of FaceTiming Tilly and Emelie this morning. She ate, though the food might as well have been cardboard. She pulled a cracker with Josie and wore a cerise paper hat that clashed with her top. She laughed at jokes and thanked Mo for the wonderful meal.
‘Tack för maten,’ Josie added, looking enormously pleased to be able to thank Mo for the food in Swedish. Then she screwed up her face and said to Nico, ‘Should me and Maria call Hannah’s mum Mormor?’
Hannah couldn’t look at Nico but every square inch of her skin burned scarlet. Josie surely hadn’t understood that ‘Mormor’ literally meant ‘mother’s mother’. She must think it was a courtesy title like ‘Nan Heather’.
Nico’s voice was husky. ‘I think we should be a little quieter before our food goes cold.’
Josie subsided and Jeremy covered the moment by lifting his glass and crying, ‘Let’s drink to Rob and Leesa’s first married Christmas!’
Hannah lifted her glass to her brother and his wife but her mind whirled. How long would Nico stay after lunch? Could they get the explanations quickly over with? Or maybe she could slip round later, when the girls had gone to bed … if Nico didn’t have other plans with Loren. Her heart really, truly hurt.
The first course cleared, Jeremy made brandy sauce for the Christmas pudding because he had a lovely touch with it.
‘I’m full.’ Nan beamed. ‘I’ve got room for Mo’s pudding though. I think she began making it in July.’ She took Hannah’s hand. ‘I missed you while you were away.’
Warmth crept through Hannah. ‘I missed you, too. I could stay with you till you get your cast off instead of here, if you want,’ she offered.
Nan regarded her gravely through her thick glasses. ‘Then what?’
Hannah felt as if everyone at the table had ceased their conversation to listen to her answer. She pulled an exaggeratedly thoughtful face as she tried to summon up some of her old dreams. ‘Start a new business, probably. I’ve learned a lot between Creative Lanes, Hannah Anna Butik and Carlysle Courtyard and the new business will be all my own.’
Josie frowned. ‘But not back in Sweden? Because then we’d only see you twice a year, when we visited.’
A ball of tears lodged itself in Hannah’s throat. ‘Maybe not in Sweden,’ she managed.
Then in came her parents, Mo bearing the shiny mahogany dome of Christmas pudding and Jeremy two jugs of brandy sauce. Mo explained the pudding rules for those who were unfamiliar with them. ‘There’s a lucky silver sixpence somewhere in the pudding. Whoever finds it makes a wish … but then gives me the sixpence back because it’s the old money we used to have when I was tiny so I reuse it each year.’ Mo turned to Nico. ‘Check the kids’ portions before they eat so they don’t choke on it.’
Nico grinned as he agreed. His grey shirt made his eyes look particularly blue but he’d been quieter than usual. Hannah was so achingly aware of him that she’d noticed.
Mo set the pudding down and cut it into steaming portions as speculation began about who would get the lucky sixpence.
Hannah joined in mechanically. Maybe if she got the coin she could wish for Christmas to be over and, shazam, it would be gone.
But, presently, it was Nico’s voice that dragged Hannah back to reality. ‘I have the sixpence.’
‘Awwww,’ Josie sighed, apparently disappointed even though Nico had checked her portion f
or sixpences already. ‘Make a wish, Dad.’
Nico’s glance flickered Hannah’s way. ‘My wish is to go for a walk with Hannah.’
Sudden silence. Hannah’s face flamed. What?
Josie frowned reprovingly. ‘Dad, that’s not how it works. You wish quietly and don’t tell anyone or it won’t come true.’
‘I misunderstood,’ Nico apologised gravely.
Mo glanced from Nico to Hannah then whispered conspiratorially to Josie. ‘If Dad didn’t understand properly then I think we should let him off, don’t you? Would you and Maria stay here and help me? Dad and Hannah can stretch their legs while there’s still daylight. Then …’ she paused thrillingly ‘… as soon as they come back we can have presents.’
Josie cried, ‘Yay!’ and Maria chirped, ‘P’esents for me, too?’
Face stiff from so much fake smiling, Hannah said, ‘OK. We won’t be long,’ and marched off for her outdoor things. Getting the conversation with Nico over with would at least get her out of the washing up. Nico fetched his coat and soon they were stepping out into the eerily quiet Christmas Day village with cheery trees shedding their light from almost every window.
‘I’m sure if the man in the moon came down and saw everyone indoors and coloured lights everywhere he’d wonder what the humans were up to,’ Hannah said as they turned left out of the house down Main Road, not wanting to get into anything heavy while in sight of her parents’ house.
The moment they’d passed the pub, which looked as if it had been caught in a fishing net made entirely of fairy lights, she cut to the chase. ‘You’re not spending Christmas Day with Loren.’
‘I’m taking the girls to Reading to see their mother and grandparents tomorrow,’ he answered neutrally.
Hannah’s throat began to ache. So he wasn’t spending today with Loren but it sounded as if he was leaving tomorrow.
After a couple of minutes they turned into Little Lane and Hannah hesitated. As if he’d been expecting it, Nico caught her hand and towed her in through the gate to Honeybun Cottage. With quick movements he thrust open the door and ushered her inside, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up.
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