The room looked cosy, and she stood for a moment and absorbed the warmth of it, feeling it lighten her mood. Maybe at night she should wrap herself in fairy lights and switch them on whenever she had dark thoughts. It made her think of the nightlight she’d bought Jamie when he was three years old and going through a phase of being afraid of the dark. It had projected stars onto the ceiling and she’d lain on her back on the bed next to Jamie and together they’d watched the stars swirl above them and he’d forgotten about monsters and dark corners and menace and focused instead on the light.
That was what she needed to do.
Maybe she wouldn’t take everything down after Christmas. Maybe she’d leave a few lights to brighten the dark days of January.
She made herself a cup of coffee and drank it while gazing at the snow-covered garden. The fresh fall of snow overnight had smoothed out footprints and provided the perfect winter backdrop, dazzling under bright sunshine and blue skies. She knew it would be cold out there. The sort of cold that would numb faces and fingers within minutes. The sort of cold that made you want to rush back to the house for hot chocolate or homemade soup.
A white Christmas. That was the one part of her planning for the perfect Christmas that she hadn’t been able to control, but for once the weather had delivered.
She heard footsteps and turned, the mug clasped in her hands.
“Hey, Mum.” Jamie wandered in, sleepy eyed, his hair damp from the shower and his feet bare.
He was a grown man and a respected doctor but sometimes she caught a glimpse of the teenager he’d once been and, weirdly, the toddler. It was as if the whole of his life was stored in her head like a photo album for her to flick through. Jamie, aged two, with ice cream on his face. Aged six, covered in mud where he’d ridden his bike through a puddle. Aged fifteen, with red eyes because he liked a girl who didn’t like him back.
And now. A man. Married.
“It’s freezing, Jamie. Don’t you own socks?”
“I couldn’t find any and didn’t want to wake Hayley. And it’s toasty warm in here.” He gave her a quick hug. “Brilliant party last night. Thanks for arranging that. You’re the best.”
“I enjoyed it. It was fun getting everyone together. I didn’t expect to see you this early.”
He shrugged and yawned. “I knew you’d be down here. Thought we could have a chat. Christmas has been a bit chaotic so far.”
Chaotic?That was one word for it. She had others in mind but she kept them to herself because she sensed he wanted to talk about something. Unlike Becky, who never wanted to talkabout anything, and Rosie, who wanted to talk about everything all the time, Jamie often liked to talk things through but did so at his own pace. He picked his moment, and she was expected to recognize the moment.
And now she was glad she’d chosen to come downstairs early. “Coffee?”
“Yes, but I’ll make it. You’ve worked hard enough.” He grabbed a mug and made himself a coffee while she watched and waited.
“Hayley seemed to be enjoying herself last night.”
“Yeah.” He wiped up the mess he’d made. “She finally relaxed a bit. She’s been trying so hard to do and say the right thing. It’s a relief to finally see her being more herself.”
Jenny felt a pang of sympathy for Hayley. “It must be difficult being parachuted into someone’s big, noisy family. Particularly if you’re not used to it.”
“Yes. I underestimated how stressful it would be. And I made the whole thing worse.”
“In what way?”
“Because I should have told you before, instead of making a dramatic announcement. I feel bad.” He sent her a sheepish look and put his coffee down on the side. “I’m glad to catch you on your own because I wanted to say sorry.”
“To me? For what?”
“For not telling you we were married. I thought it was best, but I can see now it was the wrong decision. And Hayley really wanted to tell you, so don’t blame her. I was the one who wanted to wait until we were face-to-face. And that made it hurtful for you and even more stressful for her.”
He’d always owned his actions. At eight years old when he’d broken one of her vases while throwing a ball to his sisters in the living room, he’d never tried to pass the blame.
“I’m not blaming Hayley. I’m not blaming anyone.”
“But I hurt your feelings. Will you forgive me?”
She looked at him and her chest ached. Didn’t he know that when it was your child, you’d forgive anything? Every transgression. Every thoughtless act.
She put her coffee down, wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug, as she had when he was six years old. “There’s nothing to forgive. You did what you felt was right and I understand. Don’t think about it again.”
“I love her, Mum.”
