Both girls had children – twin twelve-year-old boys for Rebecca and two girls and a boy under ten for Felicity. Veronica had joked that being so far away from her daughters meant escaping five more rounds of dirty nappies and toilet training but I couldn’t help thinking the humour was a cover and she was really sad about the limited time with them. When Carson died, Rebecca and Felicity had both offered for Veronica to move in with them. She told me she’d stayed with each of her girls for a while but accepting either of their offers was out of the question. Choosing one over the other would cause friction between the girls and the move wasn’t right for her anyway. She’d made Willowdale her home and had a large circle of friends and an active social life. She’d started over several times when moving to different bases with the army and, in her mid-fifties at the time of Carson’s passing, the last thing she’d wanted to do was start over again somewhere new.
‘What about you, Milly?’ Veronica asked. ‘Did you say Coral’s working over Christmas?’
Milly nodded. ‘Yes – another season in Finnish Lapland. She flew out as soon as term ended.’
Milly’s daughter, Coral, had recently turned twenty-one and was in her final year at university studying performing arts. This would be her third season taking on the part of a singing and dancing elf in a show at a Christmas village near the Arctic Circle. Milly had shown me some videos from her stint there last year and Coral was exceptionally talented.
‘You won’t be alone, though?’ I asked.
‘If you’re asking whether Harry will be home for Christmas…’ She sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s probably a good thing because he hates Christmas and always manages to put a dampener on it. I’m spending a few days with my parents in Windermere. It’s been years since I spent Christmas with them so we’re all really looking forward to it. I’ll come home for a few days and return to theirs for New Year.’
‘Do you know when Harry’ll be back?’ Paulette asked.
‘No idea. I’m only his wife. I’m not privy to that kind of information.’
Milly hadn’t said a lot about her husband but the little she’d shared made me wonder why she stayed married to him. But then I told myself that all marriages had their complexities and I had no right to judge what went on in someone else’s, especially when my own hadn’t exactly been conventional.
‘The usual big family get-together for you, Paulette?’ Milly asked. ‘Did you say Northumberland?’
‘That’s right. We’ve booked a place between Alnwick and Bamburgh and I can’t wait. I’ve already started packing.’
On my first day, Paulette had shared that she’d lost her husband but I’d since learned that she was twice widowed, her first husband passing away when their children were young. She had a large family – three children and four grandchildren from her first marriage and two stepchildren and three step-grandchildren from her second. The two families had blended easily and loved spending time together but they were spread out over the north and the Midlands which made meeting up a challenge so they rented an enormous holiday property every Christmas, allowing the whole family to be together. Paulette was the only grandparent left and had attention lavished on her, although she joked that her ears were still ringing weeks later and she needed a holiday to get over her holiday.
What must it be like spending Christmas with so many people? I was pretty sure there were two or three dogs in the mix too so the noise levels had to be through the roof. I couldn’t decide whether being away with a large group sounded like heaven or hell, but it would have been nice to have the opportunity to find out. My grandparents had died before I was born, my parents were gone, and I didn’t have any aunts, uncles or cousins. It was just my sister Marianne and me and, as we were both childless, it was strange thinking that our branch of the family tree had ended with us.
‘First Christmas without Noreen,’ Paulette said, turning to Laughlin. ‘Did you make a decision about going to your brother’s?’
Laughlin’s younger brother and sister-in-law had invited him to stay at their farm in the Yorkshire Dales but they, like Paulette, always had a big family get-together with children, grandchildren and even a couple of great-grandchildren. Over the past couple of months, Laughlin had gone back and forth as to whether to accept his brother’s invitation, wondering whether he’d feel Noreen’s absence more strongly in a crowd than he would on his own.
‘I’ve decided to accept,’ he said. ‘I’m going a little earlier than the others so I can have some quality time with my brother and his wife before everyone else descends on them, and I’m leaving sooner.’
‘That sounds like a great compromise,’ Veronica said.
The others shared their plans, after which I felt all eyes on me. I’d hoped nobody would notice that I hadn’t spoken yet.
‘Yvonne?’ Veronica prompted. ‘Any plans for Christmas?’
‘I’m, er… I’m spending the day with my sister.’
I kept my eyes down, concentrating on pinning the two pieces of fabric I was about to sew together, but that didn’t stop me hearing the intakes of breath.
‘You’ve got a sister?’ Paulette didn’t even attempt to hide the surprise in her voice.
My heart pounded as I put my work-in-progress down and raised my head, taking in the confused expressions.
‘I haven’t seen her in years.’ I shrugged, not sure I was able to offer them any more than that.
A barrage of questions hit me –Is she local? Older or younger? When did you last see her?– and I wasn’t ready to answer any of them. I glugged back the last of my tea. ‘I’ve got a thirst on today. Anyone want a glass of water?’
As I paced across the hall to the kitchen, I bit my lip so hard that I actually drew blood. I shouldn’t have said I was seeing Marianne. I should have lied and said I was having a quiet Christmas on my own as usual. They wouldn’t have flinched at that. Now what must they think of me? They were all so close to their families and, if I’d told them before that I had a sister, they’d have wanted to know why I didn’t see her and I couldn’t explain that without telling them about my complicated childhood. And if I went there, I’d have to tell them about Cliff and me because it was all intrinsically linked. How would I begin to explain that to anyone else when I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly understood it myself?
5
Nobody followed me into the kitchen, which was a relief, although I wasn’t sure what that indicated. Had they collectively acknowledged that I needed some time to myself or had they not realised how much the mention of my sister had affected me? I drank half a glass of tap water and refilled it, breathing deeply. I couldn’t hide in the kitchen all session. When I returned to the group, the conversation had turned to New Year and a couple of our more recent members were talking about a black-tie charity ball they attended every year.
‘It’ll be a quiet one for me after the big family Christmas,’ Paulette said.
‘Same here,’ Veronica added.
