by Sarah Morgan
She wasn’t exactly sure whether that type of commercial experience was available near her aunt’s home. Was Santa interested in a spa? Did he indulge in the occasional cold plunge? Sauna? Either way, she knew Holly would have a wonderful time. She’d taken a look at the website for her aunt’s business, and the forest cabins looked idyllic.
“Santa has a very busy job,” she said.
“Like Daddy?”
“Like Daddy.”
Christy checked the time. Seb had messaged her to say he’d be late home. It was the third time that week. Four times the week before.
When Christy had pictured their life in the country she’d assumed that Seb would continue to work remotely, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Changes in his office meant that he was no longer able to work from home. He was more stressed than usual, and Christy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Did he hate the cottage? Hate living in the country?
Lately she’d been waking up in the night, wondering if this whole thing had been a mistake.
Living here didn’t feel the way she’d thought it would feel. It wasn’t just the cottage, or the money. She was lonely—although that wasn’t something she’d admitted to anyone. But after trying so hard to persuade Seb to move here, how could she admit that she missed busy London streets and coffee shops? She missed bustle and noise and the undemanding company of strangers. She missed living in a warm apartment.
The cottage had seemed idyllic to begin with, but then they’d experienced their first winter. After a heavy rainstorm it had become clear that the roof needed replacing. The boiler had stuttered to a halt, and they’d found damp in one corner of the kitchen. They’d moved just before Christmas, and had spent the festive season shivering and trying hard to be upbeat for Holly’s sake. It had been an exhausting experience—which was another reason Christy had booked Lapland. She didn’t want another Christmas like the last one.
She sighed and finished straightening the kitchen.
She’d made a choice and now she had to live with it.
Where was Seb? How was she supposed to produce a delicious meal when she had no idea what time he was arriving home? It was a planning nightmare.
Oblivious to her mother’s anxiety, Holly rubbed at her face, spreading paint. “Santa has help from the elves.”
“He does.” She needed help from the elves—preferably elves with building experience who could fix a leaking roof.
She moved her laptop from the kitchen table so that she could lay it for dinner.
As a freelance graphic designer, she could work from anywhere, and she’d spent the morning working on a project for a client, keeping half an eye on her daughter and half on her work. As a result the house reflected the joyous mess of a free-range child.
She felt the pressure squeeze. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, even though she’d been gone for more than a year.
“One toy at a time. You need to be stricter with her, Christy. Teach her to respect rules. She’s a wild one.”
Christy felt a rush of protectiveness. Her daughter was bold, inquisitive and adventurous, and she didn’t want to crush that. She admired and occasionally envied her. Had she ever been that fearless?
But she knew that what had really worried her mother was Holly’s resemblance to Robyn.
All her life her Aunt Robyn had been held over her as a warning of what could happen if discipline was not enforced.
Christy had never been sure what Robyn had done, and whenever she’d asked the question her mother’s response had either been “Don’t mention that name in this house” or “You don’t want to know.”
Did Christy want to know? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that it felt wrong, having a family member alive and not at least making an effort to be in touch.
Even if she didn’t discover a bond with her aunt, she’d have ten whole days in which she wouldn’t have to think about her leaky cottage. Ten whole days of quality time with her family. And Alix, of course. The thought of spending time with her oldest friend lifted her spirits. Alix was the sister she’d never had. It was weird to think she’d spent more Christmases with her than she had with Seb and Holly.
“I’ve painted a forest for you.” Deprived of her brush, Holly had splodged green paint onto the paper with her finger.
“It’s beautiful.” Christy scooped her daughter up, carried her to the sink and washed the paint from her hands before the “forest’ transferred itself to her kitchen walls. “Show me Lapland on the map.”
Holly wriggled from her arms, sprinted across the room and paused in front of the map that Seb had stuck to the wall, a look of concentration on her face.
Christy took advantage of the moment to quickly load the dishwasher. “Can you find it?”
“It’s here. All along the top. The Arctic.” Holly rose onto her toes and slid her paint-stained finger across the map. “But we’re staying...here.” She stabbed her finger into the north of Sweden and gave her mother an excited smile.
She had her father’s blue eyes and dark eyelashes. It was, as Christy had discovered within minutes of meeting him, a killer combination. She’d fallen hard—as had plenty of women before her, if his reputation was to be believed. But she was the one he’d married.
Pride, love, delight—Christy felt all those things circle through her as she watched her daughter.
She regretted nothing. She wouldn’t put the clock back. She wouldn’t change a thing.
Except the cottage. She’d change that in a New York minute, as Alix would say.
No sooner had she thought about her friend than the phone rang and her name popped up on the screen. “Alix!”
Holly immediately reached for the phone. “Aunty Alix!”
Technically, Alix wasn’t an aunt, but as she and Christy were as close as sisters it seemed an appropriate title.
“I need to talk to her first.” Christy held the phone out of reach. “You can say hello when I’ve finished.” She scooped Holly up with her free arm and sat her back down at the table. As Seb was going to be late she’d have time to chat with her friend before straightening the house. “How’s New York?”
“Cold.” Alix’s voice was clear and strong. “It’s rare to have snow in December, but everything about the weather is messed up at the moment.”
Christy thought about the leak in the bathroom. “Tell me about it.”
She pictured her friend in Manhattan—dark hair pulled back, tailored dress, heels that would make most women wince to look at them, let alone wear.
“I envy you your glamorous life...” Christy carried on clearing up with one hand, her phone in the other.
“Are you kidding? I envy you your idyllic country cottage.”
Idyllic? Christy shivered, and snuggled deeper into her sweater.
She resisted the temptation to confess the doubts she was having. She couldn’t tell anyone. Not after she’d made such a fuss about living here.
“When is your event and what are you wearing?” she asked.
“Event is tomorrow, and I don’t know what I’m wearing. Something black and serious. It’s work, right—?”
She broke off and Christy heard the sound of car horns in the background. “It’s an awards dinner.”
“Exactly. Work, but in posh clothing. I probably should have asked your advice. You’re the stylish one.”
Stylish? These days she chose her clothes for warmth and durability, and tried not to think about all the dresses and shoes she no longer had any use for. Christy glanced down at her black yoga pants and noticed a small blob of paint. How had that got there? She was always so careful.
“Don’t wear black. It’s boring, and not at all you.”
“Good point. Maybe I’ll wear fancy dress. Talking of which...we have a fabulous range right now. D
oes my favorite four-year-old need anything new? There’s a great unicorn costume.”
“You already sent her that.”
Christy switched on the fairy lights in the kitchen. Since she’d discovered that the soft glow disguised the damp patches on the walls, she’d strung them everywhere. Holly had assumed they were Christmas decorations, and she was fine with that. But they wouldn’t be coming down in January. If her future had to be filled with thick sweaters and damp socks, it was also going to be filled with fairy lights.
“There aren’t enough days in the week for her to wear all of what you’re sending. Where are you now?”
“On my way to the hotel from the airport. Traffic on Fifth is a nightmare.”
Traffic on Fifth. People. Life. Atmosphere... “You sound like a local.”
“This is my third trip in eight weeks. I’m starting to feel that way.”
Christy cleared up Holly’s paints and tipped the water away. She wasn’t envious—she really wasn’t. She enjoyed her balance of work and motherhood, even if she did sometimes feel as if she’d compromised on both elements. This was the life she’d chosen. Although it would have been nice to have her husband home and a house that didn’t leak.
“Still makes me smile...thinking of you working for a global toy company.”
“Why? Because I’m single and don’t have kids? This is a business, Christy. A cold, ruthless business. We might be selling toys, but there is nothing warm and fuzzy about this job. And I know more about toys than anyone. I know which toys are likely to make a child smile for five minutes or five days. I know which toys are likely to break before the end of a day, which toys might persuade a kid it’s worth studying harder for exams, and which toy is so awesome it might even make a child forget that its parents don’t want it around.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Did I really just say that? Don’t read too much into it. Jetlag is making me maudlin. Or maybe it’s the time of year. You know how messed up I am about Christmas.” Alix’s light tone covered layers of emotion and memory. “My point is, I have plenty of personal experience of toys. Toys are currency, and no one knows their value better than I do.”
“Sometimes they’re just a gesture of love...” Christy felt a surge of compassion. “Have you heard from your parents?”
“No, thank goodness. It’s not as if I’d want to spend Christmas with either of them anyway. Can you imagine it? Kill me now!”
Christy stowed the paints and brushes in a box, grateful for the love her parents had shown her and the example they’d set. She’d modeled her own family life on theirs, carrying across the routines and traditions from her own childhood.
She thought back to the nights when Alix had stayed over at her house. There had been a lot of nights, and a lot of childhood confessions.
“My parents don’t want me around. They never wanted me.”
Christy pushed the box into the cupboard. Her home might leak, but her daughter knew she was loved.
“Remember all those times my mother told us off for talking until the early hours?” she asked Alix.
“And for making hot chocolate at two in the morning.”
“And dropping biscuit crumbs inside the bed.”
Christy leaned against the cupboard, her mind in the past. “We were always making plans. And look at us.”
Alix gave a quick laugh. “I wanted to climb the corporate ladder and you wanted a husband, a child, and a cottage in the country. Looks like we both got what we wanted.”
Christy stared at the rain hammering the window. “Yes...” But what if what you’d wanted didn’t turn out so great after all? What then? “Are you happy with your life?”
“Of course. What sort of a question is that?”
“You don’t ever feel lonely?”
“Are you kidding? I’m with people all day—and even when I’m not with them physically, they’re calling me.”
Christy waited for Alix to bounce the question back to her, but she didn’t.
“You don’t regret anything?” she asked her.
“What would I regret? Are you asking me if I want to get married, have children and move to the country? We both know that’s not for me. I don’t want the responsibility. I mean...get it wrong and a child is messed up forever. If you need evidence for that, look at me.”
Christy felt an ache in her chest. “You’re not messed up. And you wouldn’t get it wrong.”
“Ah, but you don’t know that. Anyway, I love being in the fast lane. I love the whole crazy rush of it.”
And Alix was moving so quickly everything around her was a blur—including Christy. There were things she wanted to say, but she didn’t feel able to say them. Was that why it suddenly seemed hard to share her innermost secrets with her friend?
“I keep telling you that adrenaline isn’t one of the main food groups.”
“It’s my favorite type of fuel—except possibly for chocolate. By the way, did I mention that the singing reindeer with a glow-in-the-dark nose that I sent our girl is going to be the toy for Christmas? She’ll be the most popular child in the village.”
Toys are currency.
Christy poured Holly a cup of milk. “I’ve hidden it away, ready for you-know-when.”
Holly’s head whipped round. “Are you talking about Christmas?”
Alix had obviously heard, because she laughed. “She’s so smart. Just give it to her. I’ve bought her something else for the big day. It’s a junior science kit—not even launched yet. She’s going to love it. I tell you, that girl is going to save the world.”
“Alix, she’s not even five years old. You have to stop buying her things.”
“Why? I want every one of her Christmases to be perfect. She is the most important person in my life—apart from you, of course, and I assume you don’t want a reindeer with a glow-in-the-dark nose. Who else am I going to send toys to? I should go—I have to call Tokyo.”
Tokyo. Christy felt a pang of envy. So far today she’d called the plumber and the dentist. She wouldn’t even know how to call Tokyo.
“Fine, but promise me you won’t wear boring black to that glittering awards dinner tomorrow night.” She picked up a cleaning cloth and wandered into the hallway.
“That’s all I packed.”
Christy swiped her cloth over the table. “You’re staying on Fifth Avenue, Alix. Find something glamorous.”
It had been so long since she’d bought something new to wear. What was the point? Occasionally she and Seb booked a babysitter and walked to the local pub, but it wasn’t like their previous apartment, where they’d been five steps from every type of restaurant. Anyway, lately he’d been too tired to go out. And then there was the money...
Alix was still talking. “Did you hear any more from your aunt? You didn’t discover the deep, dark family secret?”
“No...” Christy wandered into Seb’s study so that Holly couldn’t listen in. “I decided that conversation would be better had in person.”
She’d rather avoid it altogether, but there wasn’t much hope of that. What if it was something truly awful? What if it was difficult to hear? She removed a dead plant from Seb’s desk and glanced out of the window into the darkness. Rain still slid down the glass.
“The weather is horrible here. I hope Seb will be okay. Driving will be bad.”
“He isn’t home?”
“Working late.”
The moment she’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. Alix missed nothing.
There was a pause, and then the predictable question. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course.”
There had been a time when Christy would have told Alix the truth. Shared her worries. But all that had changed the day she’d married Seb. It was the only time in their long friendship that she and Alix had been
on opposite sides of an argument.
“Don’t do it, Christy. Don’t marry him. How well do you really know him? He’s a player. Not the kind of guy who settles for a life in the countryside with a wife, two kids and a dog. You’re making a mistake. It doesn’t matter that you’re pregnant.”
Christy thought about that awful moment more often than she should. It wasn’t even as if they’d fought over it. Shaking and upset, she’d simply told Alix that she was wrong, and that she was happy with her decision. She’d told herself that Alix had only been looking out for her, that her concern had been driven by her own less than perfect home life, but the words had settled deep inside her, like scar tissue.
They hadn’t talked about it again. When Alix had anxiously contacted her after the wedding, to check things were okay between them, Christy had reassured her that of course everything was fine. What would have been the point of resurrecting the conversation? What would that have achieved? Nothing. It wasn’t as if they could undo what was done. Better to move on.
But it hadn’t been as easy to move on as she’d hoped. Those words still clanged along with her, like cans attached to the car of newlyweds.
Whenever Alix came to stay she found herself overdoing the “happy family” routine. She made sure that everything was perfect and her smile huge. She was extra-demonstrative toward Seb. Look at us. Look at how happy we are. Look how wrong you were.
She swiped her cloth over Seb’s desk and the top of his laptop, wishing she could just forget about that conversation. When she was younger it had never occurred to her that her friendship with Alix would one day change. When they’d lain in the dark in her bedroom, talking into the night about everything from boys to babies, she’d thought to herself It’s always going to be this way. The discovery that an adult friendship came with complications had been an uncomfortable shock.
She picked up the wedding photo that Seb kept on his desk. When she looked at it all she could see was Alix, her bridesmaid, her knuckles white as she almost snapped the stems of the bouquet. And Christy wasn’t the only one Alix had fallen out with at their wedding.
Staring at the photo, Christy felt a twinge of sadness. Unlike Holly, who mostly dreamed of being a scientist or an explorer, Christy had dreamed of weddings when she was little. Her wedding was going to be the happiest day of her life. But, as with so many things in her life, it hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.