‘It’s five days til Christmas, you can’t buy her presents!’ Heather said in surprise, waving the lost packet of biscuits in triumph. ‘I found them!’
‘I will buy my daughter a present whenever I damn well please,’ Megan said, trying for jokey, but failing. Her mother looked at her and nodded. ‘Right, of course.’
Crap. Why was everything so bloody difficult?
‘Anyway, we don’t need more things for you to read, because you’re meeting your cousin today. I’m sure he’ll keep you busy.’
Skye tugged at her dark plait. ‘Mum, he’s five.’
‘Yeah, that’s why you’re going to be busy.’ Megan wriggled her eyebrows.
Her head still hurt, but she wasn’t sure if it was the bad cocktails, dehydration, or Lucas. He was here, he was really here. And now the memory of him was sitting in her gut like a marble. Every time she moved, she was reminded of him. Holding her hand as they walked down the street, performing, singing and laughing. She wouldn’t let her mind wander to the bad times. To saying goodbye, or Belinda, or Joey or any of that stuff that happened when she tried to do the right thing. She shook the history away and focused on Skye.
‘Skye McAllister…what are you wearing?’ Megan tilted her head to the side to assess her daughter’s Christmas jumper.
‘Don’t you like it? Me and Grandma worked on it last night,’ Skye said innocently.
The red woolly jumper, a Heather McAllister original that probably used to be hers, Megan thought, had been sewn into with gold thread. Except the reindeer outline was so skewed that his head seemed to be bent at a strange angle.
Heather nudged her. ‘It’s unique isn’t it? Just like Skye.’
She smiled at her grandchild, then made a face at Megan to say ‘don’t make the kid feel bad at how awful it looks.’
Megan shook her head as Heather left the room.
‘You did that on purpose, I’ve seen you sew your own school uniform. You’re probably better than my mother,’ Megan said knowingly.
Skye grinned. ‘But don’t you think it’s unique? I was actually thinking it would be a good band symbol – Dead Rudolph. What do you think?’
Megan looked around to an invisible audience. ‘I swear I didn’t drink when I was pregnant. Where are you getting this stuff from?’
‘Um, maybe because there have been Christmas carols playing on this radio non-stop and I’m going crazy?’ Skye shrugged, and moved a little closer. ‘Plus I miss Anna. She hasn’t called and she said she would.’
Megan stroked her daughter’s hair. ‘We’ll give her another day, then we’ll call her and complain about how much fun she’s having without us.’
Later that day, Matty, Claudia and Jasper arrived. Claudia was exactly how Megan remembered her from that one visit ten years ago. Cold and expensive. Plus she looked exactly the same. Megan had aged, got plumper and more worn, but Claudia looked like she’d been kept in bubble wrap, like a beautiful angel you only got out to put on the tree, then hid away the rest of the year. Her white blonde hair was pulled back tightly in a bun, and she kissed Megan on both cheeks, smirking a little at Megan’s surprise.
‘It’s so lovely to see you after all this time,’ she said graciously, her ice-blue eyes wide and unblinking. Then she transferred her attention to Skye. ‘Well aren’t you darling?’
‘I really wouldn’t know,’ Skye said, lips pursed, hands on hips.
‘Babe, now is not the time to be precocious,’ Megan whispered, ‘be nice.’
‘I am being nice, I’m not a darling. I’m a pain in the bum sometimes!’ Skye said loudly, and Megan shrugged, focusing on her brother, who laughed loudly.
Matty looked older, his face widened and slightly more ruddy, like he’d started playing rugby, or went hiking at the weekends. His dark hair still stood up at all angles, and his eyes were a mirror of her own.
‘All right, big brother?’ she grinned, fully, for the first time since she’d found out they had to come back here.
‘Hey kid,’ he smiled, ‘I’d hug you, but I’ve got my hands full of someone.’
His son was small and pale, with Matty’s messy mop of dark hair, and his mother’s pale skin. He blinked at Megan, his eyes a darker blue than Claudia’s.
‘Jazz, say hi to your auntie and your cousin,’ Matty prodded.
The boy just stared at them, eyes wide, expression completely blank.
‘He doesn’t really talk,’ Matty shrugged.
‘That’s okay.’ Skye strode forward and started signing along with her hands as she spoke. ‘We can talk in other ways.’
The child’s eyes followed her fingers, and broke out into a large smile. But still said nothing, just sat in his father’s arms, smiling at Skye.
‘I…don’t think he’s deaf, hun.’ Megan put her hands on Skye’s shoulders. ‘I think what Matty meant was that Jasper’s a little shy.’
‘Oh!’ Skye shrugged. ‘Sorry!’ She turned to him and held out a hand. ‘Do you want to come and play with me upstairs? There’s lots of really cool things in my mum’s room.’
Jasper nodded and reached out a hand for her. Matty put him on the floor and watched in awe as his son took Skye’s hand and wandered off.
‘That honestly never happens.’ Matty shook his head.
‘She speaks sign language?’ Claudia asked in interest, or as much interest as someone so passive could muster. ‘Is she deaf?’
‘No, I taught her.’
‘Why do you know sign language?’ Heather asked, bringing in a tray with a floral teapot and a plate with the missing bourbons. Megan felt a pang for Anna’s Christmas Sangria and champagne truffles.
‘Because I’m a speech and language therapist.’ Megan shook her head. ‘I work with deaf kids. Didn’t Anna tell you that?’
‘She refused to tell me anything about you,’ her mother said stiffly, ‘only about Skye. She said you were an adult and you deserved not to be spied on.’
‘Oh,’ Megan said, not really sure how that made her feel. All those years she’d thought her mother knew about her life but didn’t really care. Maybe she would have liked to know what career she’d ended up in. ‘Why didn’t you ask when I got here?’
‘I didn’t think it was my place,’ Heather said lightly. ‘Everyone help yourselves to tea, I’ll go and drag Jonathan from the den.’
She scuttled out of the room, and Megan sighed.
‘We came just at the right time then?’ Matty said, settling down on the sofa and sticking three biscuits in his mouth.
His wife watched in disdain, then turned to Megan. ‘Has it been difficult?’
‘Not so far, but God knows it will be at some point,’ she shrugged.
There was the heavy clang of the doorbell, and Megan heard the start of “Good King Wenceslas”.
‘It’s carol singers!’ she yelled to her mother.
‘There’s money on the side. It’s probably the school choir!’ Heather called back from the kitchen, and something about the exchange made Megan’s stomach flip, it was so…domestic. They could have had the same conversation ten years ago, her stomping around as a teenager, always yelling from room to room.