‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart,’ Greta said.
‘Same to you, Mum,’ Lottie said. Her voice was bright, and Greta could hear Jim singing a carol off-key in the background.
‘Did Santa visit?’ Greta teased.
‘Well, if you count Dad creeping around this morning, and yelping because he stubbed his toe—then yes.’ Lottie laughed. ‘I’ll bring my presents home with me later. And we have some for you, too.’
Greta liked the wordwe.‘Well, have the best morning together. I can’t wait to see you later.’ She hesitated. ‘Um, is your dad there? Can I have a quick word with him?’ She wanted to let Jim know he was welcome to stay for tea.
There was a rustling sound on the line, then Lottie’s voice again. ‘Nope, sorry, Mum. He’s in the middle of a pancake disaster. We’ll see you later.’ Lottie giggled, then hung up.
Greta’s cheeks glowed. It was great to hear her daughter having fun, even if it was without her. She made herself a bacon sandwich for lunch, ate a mince pie, tidied around the flat and watched a bit of TV.
When Lottie arrived home later that afternoon, she burst into the living room, clutching a book about dog breeds. ‘Look what Jayden bought me,’ she said, hugging Greta without thinking.
Greta melted into it, exchanging a surprised look with Jim over the top of Lottie’s head.
‘She’s already read half of it,’ Jim said, following their daughter inside. He wheeled Lottie’s suitcase with one hand while carrying a bag of Christmas presents in the other. Setting them down, he looked around admiringly. ‘This place looks really pretty,’ he said. ‘Much more festive than Martin’s place.’
Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘Dad didn’t even buy a tree.’
‘Hey, I can’t help—’ Jim started, but trailed off with a helpless shrug. He wheeled Lottie’s case into her bedroom.
‘Martin’s cleaning lady gave him her spare one,’ Lottie said. ‘You should see it, Mum. It’s got black tinsel branches. They match her eyelashes.’
Greta cocked her head. ‘Eyelashes?’
‘Yeah, they look just like spiders. I found one on the carpet in my bedroom and tried catching it on a piece of paper.’ Lottie laughed.
Greta smiled, too, a little regretfully. She should have believed Jim when he’d told her the eyelash she found in the penthouse belonged to the cleaner, rather than doubting him. Could she have given him more chances to explain other things, too—like his business conversations with Nora—before jumping to conclusions?
Jim returned from Lottie’s room, a bag of presents in hand.
‘The neatly wrapped silver ones are from me,’ Lottie said.
‘The badly wrapped red ones are from me. Well . . . from Santa,’ Jim added with a wink.
‘Well, thank you,Santa,’Greta said. ‘Your presents are on the hearth,’ she told Lottie.
‘Can I open mine after dinner?’ Lottie asked. ‘Like I used to do when Grandma was here?’
‘Of course,’ Greta said.
The three of them sat down together in the living room, where it felt cosy rather than cramped. Greta unwrapped her presents while Lottie and Jim watched. She loved the minicandles, and violet cream chocolates that Lottie had picked out for her. Jim had bought her an expensive pair of noisecancelling headphones.
‘They’re really useful if you want to listen to an audiobook, or to block out Lottie’s music,’ he said.
Lottie rolled her eyes and excused herself to call Jayden from her bedroom.
The headphones were something Greta wouldn’t have bought for herself but that she’d use often. ‘Thanks,’ she said, handing Jim his gifts. ‘They’re brilliant.’
Jim opened a bottle of his favourite rum, a new jumper and some aftershave. ‘I love them all,’ he said. Then, reaching into the bottom of the giftbag, he added, ‘I’ve actually got you one more thing . . .’
He handed Greta a badly wrapped, rectangular gift.
Greta frowned slightly. ‘Jim, you shouldn’t have. The headphones were more than enough.’
‘This is something a bit more personal.’
