The Queen was just rounding off her speech: ‘I hope you will all have a very happy Christmas this year and that you go into the new year with renewed hope and confidence.’
‘I hope we do too, Your Majesty, and thank you,’ Kath Sharpe directed at the television screen. ‘Oh, look at her, Vic. She always looks so smart and just, well… beautiful. She’ll be eighty this coming year, too.’ She sniffled.
‘I didn’t realise quite how shit a year it had been until I saw this,’ Albie piped up and went and sat next to his mum on the sofa. Vic sat on the armchair opposite, thinking she could make both of their years so much worse with just three letters, but it just didn’t seem right, and she didn’t have the energy or inclination to tell her family that she had a life-changing health condition, today of all days. Because then, not only would it be ‘where were you when you told your family you had HIV?’ but adding ‘on Christmas Day’ into the mix would make it seem ten times worse, and ruin Christmas for them all forever more.
Kath Sharpe reached up her sleeve for a tissue and blew her nose loudly. ‘All those poor people who got washed away by that dreadful tsunami last Christmas, and the floods in New Orleans – and as for those bombings in London in July… I never told you how scared I was that day, Victoria. I knew our Albie was working locally, but I couldn’t get hold of you on your mobile.’
‘I know.’ Vic thought back to that day. ‘The phone signals went down – everyone was trying to call. Thankfully me and Nate had taken a random day off, and we had walked to a pub on the river in Putney so we weren’t anywhere near the Tube. Idid call you as soon as I could.’ Vic recalled the memory, awash with both fear and sadness, but also of happier times with Nate.
‘Yes, darling, you did. I do love you, you know, both of you.’ Chandler jumped up onto Kath’s lap in one leap.
‘Mum. It’s all right.’ Albie blew out a huge breath. ‘And I promise I will pay you back all the money I owe you. OK?’
‘You have to, please, love. I’m not made of money, you know. And you also have to keep away from those greedy bookmakers. My old dad used to say that you never see one riding a bike. You’re your father’s son all right.’ Kath Sharpe carried on in a rare moment of sobriety. ‘If you need other things to do, the garden wants sorting and this old house hasn’t been decorated for years. Actually, son, why don’t you pay off your debt in jobs for me?’
Albie screwed up his face, and Vic kicked him discreetly. ‘I think that’s a brilliant idea, Mum. Don’t you, Albie?’
Albie grimaced again as his mum continued. ‘I found my will the other day when I was having a tidy-up. You’ll be all right when I’m gone. Your dad paying for this house made sure of that.’
‘Mum!’ Vic tutted. ‘Stop it. It’s Christmas Day.’
‘Yes, it is. And present time.’ Kath moved Chandler to her side and reached for the envelopes on top of the fireplace. ‘It’s not much.’
Vic had resealed hers after opening it, and made sure to show great delight for her voucher and her mum’s lovely words. Albie thanked her for his cash. Vic reached for her rucksack. ‘Here you go.’ She handed her mum and Albie their gifts.
Albie shuffled about on the sofa. ‘I didn’t… I umm… I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to…’
‘Next year, you will be able to,’ Kath Sharpe said boldly. ‘Won’t you?’
‘Yes, Mum.’ Albie’s voice was childlike for a second. ‘And, what it is they say? “Your presence is better than any presents.”’
‘But you’re not supposed to be the one who says it, if it’s about you!’ Kath’s shoulders suddenly shook and the alien sound of laughter, rich and genuine, cut through the air of number 28, Simpson Crescent. On her mother’s face was a light that Vic hadn’t seen for what felt like a lifetime – a glimmer of a spark of the woman her mother used to be before the alcohol had taken hold.
Albie joined in and, through her fear and vulnerability, Vic felt a sudden flash of hope. When she was ready, she would tell them, and if she was never ready, then that was all right, too. For despite their dysfunctionality, they were all still here, still together – a family at Christmas who loved each other in their own strange and wonderful ways.
That night, Vic was getting ready for bed when she noticed an unwrapped present in her rucksack. Pulling it out, she smiled at the tag, simply written with the wordsQueen Victoriain the most perfect calligraphy. Excited that she hadn’t opened it already, she ripped at the neatly wrapped gift. She wasn’t surprised to see that it was a book, nor that its title reflected the eccentric author, who wasn’t scared to shock or titillate. ‘Lovers and Other Strangers: Paintings by Jack Vettriano,’ she read aloud and then said, ‘Aww.’ She had only once mentioned in passing how much she had liked the artist. Smiling as she looked at the print ofThe Singing Butlerstill hanging on her old bedroom wall, she opened up the book to find written in the same perfect script as the label, thewords:
Keep on creating, Queen Victoria, for you are rather good at it.
Yours festively,
Jerico Flint
Christmas 2005
She had talked to Jerico Flint just a handful of times and had only met him once, but she already felt a strong alliance with him. Which she found both alarming and strangely endearing.
She was just folding up her clothes and laying them out on the tub chair in the corner when another text beeped in from Nate.
Vic?
Jolted back into reality, she felt her face contort in anguish. She began to type.
Nate, we need to talk – and I mean properly talk. You may already know something but if you don’t I have something to tell you. And it has to be face to face because
Vic stopped, groaned, deleted the text, then started to type frantically again.
Nate, it’s going to be OK, but something has happened and it’s huge, but we can do this, we can get through this together
