“Not just an album,” Becky said. “Open it.”
She opened it, and there was Jamie aged around five, holding both his sisters on his lap.
She turned the page, and there was Rosie at her first ballet class.
She kept turning the pages, moving through the years and the memories. Child to adult. All the stages. So much of her life, right there in front of her. And at the end was a family photo, the three of them, with Declan, Hayley and Will. Standing on the beach laughing, wind blowing their hair and their smiles so big it made her smile to look at it.
“How did you take that last one? When?”
“Yesterday. Will took it. And we printed it off.”
“I should scold you for making your mother cry,” Martin said, “but I assume they’re happy tears. Good choice.”
“Yes, thank you.” Jenny was choked, but she managed to hold herself together and join in as everyone took it in turns to open presents. Not that they all made sense to her.
Hayley was opening presents from Jamie and the two of them were laughing.
“Days-of-the-week knickers?”
“Yes. You can wear Monday for a change.”
Jenny watched them, mystified as they shared a joke clearly only the two of them understood.
But that wasn’t as strange as the moment Declan gave Rosie a box of pink paperclips that for some reason reduced her to tears (I’d cry too if someone gave me pink paperclips, Jamie was heard to mutter), and Jenny decided that a gift that was adored by the recipient and not understood by anyone else was probably the perfect present because it was obviously personal and meant something.
She looked up as Martin handed her a box.
“What’s this?”
“It’s my gift to you.”
She opened it and found an old shoe box adorned with a homemade sticker sayingWorry Box.
“You wanted somewhere to put your worries, so from now on you can write them down, put them in here, and I’ll take them. So that you don’t have to carry them on your own.”
Her throat stung. “You won’t look after them properly.”
“Yes, I will. I will give them my full attention. In between bins and gutters. If you don’t believe me, look inside.”
She opened the box and there was a piece of paper with his name on it, but it was crossed out.
She looked at him and he shrugged.
“I know you’ve been worried, but you don’t need to be. Not anymore. You can cross that one off your list. I’ve had some ideas. We’ll talk about them when it’s just us again.”
And she realised that he did seem like Martin again. Ever since the night of Jamie’s party, he’d slowly been regaining energy and interest.
“Worries? Can we help?” Jamie spoke up. “What are you worried about, Mum?”
“Everything,” Becky said. “She’s Mum. And no, you can’t help. You’re probably the reason she’s worried.”
“Well, thanks!”
“If all Dad has given her is an empty cardboard box then we shouldallbe worried,” Rosie said. “Next year I’m in charge of your gift buying, Dad. I thought I’d trained you better than this. No kitchen equipment. Nothing that’s secretly a gift for you. You know the rules.”
Jenny clutched the box. “I like my gift.”
“When I’m old,” Rosie muttered to Declan, “don’t even think of giving me a cardboard box.”
