It’s my turn to eye roll. ‘Adam Draker? Is that who you’re into? The guy spends longer doing his hair for a gig than he does actually performing one.’
I’ve met him numerous times; he’s a raging diva. He makes Mariah look like a pussy cat.
‘Seriously? You know him?’ Victoria squeals as her hands fly to her flaming cheeks.
‘If you’re ever in LA, I promise I’ll introduce you.’
Sasha clears her throat and spins to glare at me from ten feet away. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’ Her tone could cut through glass.
‘I mean every word of it.’ Crossing the room, I stand next to the Christmas tree on the pretence of admiring it, when it’s really Sasha I’m desperate to admire up close.
She’s dressed casually this evening. Her long dark waves are pulled back into a simple ponytail that shows off her long slender neck. An emerald V-neck top drapes across her top half, revealing sharp, sexy collarbones. Tight navy jeans hug her peachy backside. Lucky them.
‘We were about to decorate the tree. Want to help?’ Victoria asks.
It sounds like the perfect way to spend the evening, but before I accept, I glance sideways at Sasha to make sure I’m not intruding. Bright jade eyes flick towards mine and she shrugs.
‘At least you might be able to reach the top.’ She nods towards the silver star sitting on the huge opulent dining room table, overflowing with Christmas decorations. They’re all silver and white frosted, not a scrap of colour to be seen, just like the other trees in the castle.
‘Is everything white?’
She used to love the clashing, cascading colours when we were young. Our last night together, the night before my father turned my life upside down, we decorated the tree in my family’s cabin together and it was she who insisted on coloured lights and thick bushy multi-coloured tinsel.
I assumed the theme of white and silver outside the castle was aiming to be tasteful and classy, not a personal preference.
Victoria rolls her eyes and points at Sasha. ‘Yep. Queen of the castle over there insists. For some reason she can’t stand twinkling, flashing multi-coloured lights.’
Sasha stalks towards the kitchen. Towards the mulled wine to be precise. ‘They’re not entirely white. You got your crimson garland, didn’t you? And what about the beautiful wreaths and candle displays? Now, who’s for a drink?’
‘Can we go to the Christmas markets tomorrow, or are they too bright for you as well?’ Victoria calls to Sasha across the room.
‘We can go to the Christmas markets, I suppose.’ Sasha stirs the mulled wine, dips a finger and places it in her mouth thoughtfully. ‘You know what would be spectacular? London. The Winter Wonderland. I’ve always wanted to go. Maybe next year?’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Victoria promises.
A sadness sparks inside of me. I long to ask Sasha why she stopped liking bright and beautiful things, but I hold my tongue. It doesn’t take a genius to guess it has something to do with me. With the last time we decorated a tree together.
‘You know what day it is?’ Sasha’s voice is slightly subdued. Using a chrome ladle, she fills the two goblet glasses, then hands one to Victoria and me.
‘Are you old enough to drink that?’ I nudge Victoria.
‘Almost.’ Her eyes flicker towards me but she doesn’t smile, instead she returns her gaze to her older sister, who reaches into a cupboard, removes another glass and fills it to the brim.
Sasha takes a huge mouthful before continuing.
‘It’s the first of December.’ Her words are weighted with significance and it takes me only a millisecond to realise what she’s reminding me of. It’s the date I left, ten years ago. The blood drains from my cheeks. I lick my lips, wracking my brain for an adequate response, even though I know there isn’t one.
Victoria swallows hard, a lump forming in her throat. She raises her glass against Sasha’s, clinking it in a sombre gesture. ‘To Mam and Dad. Ten years without them.’
Sasha takes a shaky breath. ‘May they be sipping their own glasses of mulled wine and watching us make a mess of this tree, after we’ve had ours.’
Time freezes for what seems like an age as the full enormity of what I’m learning hits me square on the jaw.
However horrific I felt before, knowing that Sasha’s parents died the same month I left, I’m absolutely fucking appalled to know it happened the same night. There’s no forgiving that.
‘I.. I..’ I’m utterly speechless.
Victoria clinks her goblet against mine and eyes me with firm encouragement. ‘To Mam and Dad,’ she repeats again, until I get the memo.
