A most unexpected scene of domestic harmony then ensued as we combined the ingredients for the dough, giggling as we tried to work out how much an eighth of a teaspoon of ground cloves was, then deciding it probably didn’t matter too much. When the time came to roll and cut the dough, I picked up my phone.
‘Come on, we need a Christmas playlist, it can only make these cookies taste better.’
I searched for the cheesiest mix I could find, and soon we were stamping the Linzer out in time to ‘Wonderful Christmastime’.
‘What’s your favourite Christmas song?’ asked Sofia. ‘I like “Holly Jolly Christmas” best.’
‘Mine’s easy,’ said Nick. ‘It’s “Little Saint Nick”, of course. I do like having a song that reminds everyone how saintly I am.’
He put his hands under his chin and fluttered his eyelashes, making Sofia squeal with laughter.
‘It’s almost impossible for me to decide,’ I said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘I love them all.’ It was true, I did, and this was the first time in three years that I had voluntarily put on Christmas music.
‘Well, you have to,’ said Nick in a mock stern voice, pretending to threaten me with a wooden spoon. ‘It’s the Christmas law, right, Sofia?’
‘Right,’ she said, and put her hands on her hips. ‘Come on, pick a favourite.’
I paused. My first instinct was to say whatever came into my head, but it didn’t feel right to be untruthful. Sofia, just eightyears old, had been so brave about coming here over Christmas and Nick, I knew, had been brave in a different way to come to the kitchen after my telling-off and join in wholeheartedly. It was my turn to be brave.
‘It’s always been “Sleigh Ride”,’ I said. ‘My husband rigged something up one year so that it played every time I came into the house, and I never got sick of it.’
‘Where is your husband?’ asked Sofia. ‘Aren’t you spending Christmas with him?’
‘No,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. ‘Sadly, he was very ill and died a few years ago. But there are lots of nice things that help me remember him in a happy way, and “Sleigh Ride”is one of them.’
This was, of course, untrue. I had done everything I could to avoid any memories of Paulo, happy or unhappy, but as I touched my necklace, an image of him laughing at my delighted surprise the first time I walked through the door and set that song off appeared in my mind. Maybe it was time to let the memories, good and bad, surface.
‘Shall we put it on?’ asked Sofia. I glanced at Nick, who had nothing but sympathy in his face, then grinned.
‘Yes, let’s, and then we’d better get these cookies in the oven before Angela comes down and needs the kitchen. I think we’d better do the jam in the morning, when they’re completely cool – if we can all make it down a little early?’
They agreed, and we put the cookies in to bake, then I said, ‘Go on, you two, you’ve done enough for one day. I’ll do this bit of washing up and see you for supper soon.’
Sofia ran out, happily shouting that she was going to go and see Firefly and India, but Nick sat down at the table.
‘You were right,’ he said, running his finger through a scattering of flour. ‘All I could think about was not getting toofriendly with Sofia because she’d be going home before too long. I’m glad I joined you.’
‘So am I,’ I said. ‘I guess we all have feelings we’d rather avoid, but maybe facing up to them is better in the long run.’
He stood up then, looked at me for a long time, then gave a brisk nod.
‘That could be true.’
Then, calling to Steve, he left the room, leaving me slightly flustered and wondering what other feelings we both might need to face up to over Christmas.
ELEVEN
The next morning, I was impressed when both Nick and Sofia turned up before breakfast to sandwich the Linzer cookies together with jam.
‘Marilise will be ever so pleased,’ said Angela, who was making breakfast. ‘Where are you going to put the number?’
My last job before going to bed last night had been to paint a large number two on a sheet of paper.
‘I thought in the window of the sitting room,’ I said. ‘Then we can take her outside on a pretext at lunchtime.’
This plan was agreed to and when lunchtime came, we sprang into action.
‘Marilise,’ said Sofia, her face wreathed with excited smiles that were a total giveaway. ‘I wanted to ask you something about one of the windows, but you can only see it from outside. Can I show you?’
