‘Thanks for giving me a little nudge in the right direction, Mum.’
Her mother looked horrified. ‘I didn’t push, did I?’
‘No,’ Anna said, smiling. Not technically. Her father gave her another wink.
THANKFULLY, ANNA’S MOTHER had been able to schedule quite a few days off work in the lead-up to Christmas, and Anna spent some much-needed time with her parents, allowing them to share some of their favourite haunts in their new neighbourhood with her, going out for lovely lunches and long walks, reading books by the fire and eating far too much of her mother’s baking. It was just what she needed.
On Christmas morning, Anna woke at five a.m., just as she always had done when she was small, and discovered that Father Christmas (well, actually, just her father) had left a brightly decorated stocking at the foot of her bed.She refrained from rushing into her parents’ room and bouncing on their bed as she might have done in earlier years, and instead made good headway into the chocolate orange she found inside while she read a magazine and waited for them to stir.
As was their family tradition, they had a breakfast of thick bacon sandwiches with a huge pot of tea in the kitchen, then moved to the living room to hand around presents.
Anna perched on a footstool, sipping her large mug of tea. Her mother passed her a big box wrapped in red and silver paper. ‘Happy Christmas, darling,’ she said. Anna’s eyebrows rose. She had no idea what this was.
She unwrapped it carefully, then lifted the lid of the expensive-looking box. ‘Oh, my goodness, Mum… Dad… It’s gorgeous!’ Inside lay a soft brown leather briefcase, elegant but with the hint of an old-fashioned school satchel about it. She lifted it out of the box and slung it over her shoulder. It was gloriously smooth to the touch and reminded her of the colour of conkers.
Anna stood up and went and hugged her mother and then her father, bag still swinging at her side. ‘I love it,’ she said, stroking it some more. ‘I’ve been looking for something for when I start at BlockTime, but I didn’t want a traditional hard briefcase or a messenger bag. How did you know?’
‘I saw you eyeing it up when we went to the shopping mall,’ her mother said, looking very pleased with herself, ‘and I thought what better present than a smart but very individual bag for a smart but very individual woman about to start a new phase in her career.’
Anna hugged the bag to herself without squishing it. Her mother had always been great at her job,always the perfect female role model, and the fact she felt Anna had the potential to follow in her footsteps meant a lot.
She pulled the bag off her shoulder, arranged it at an angle at the bottom of the Christmas tree, and snapped a photo of it, which she then sent straight to Brody, with the caption:From my mum and dad. I’m going to be a proper businesswoman!
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed in her dressing gown pocket and she pulled it out to find a reply: a picture of a particularly ugly pair of Christmas socks, adorned with a Rudolph with a light-up red nose.From MY mum and dad,his accompanying message read.I’m going to look a right plonker!Anna laughed out loud.
‘What’s so funny?’ her mother asked.
Anna leaned over and showed her the photo. ‘It’s from Brody,’ she explained, and went on to outline how she’d recently encouraged him to get in touch with his parents after years of a strained relationship. He’d been hesitant but had finally listened to her, and they’d invited him up to Keswick for Christmas. ‘I hope it’s going okay,’ she said. ‘This is a huge step for him.’
Her mother nodded. ‘It sounds as if you’re as much good for him as he’s been for you.’
‘I’m beginning to think so too. Did I tell you we’re meeting on New Year’s Eve?’
‘At least twice already,’ her mother said, laughing. ‘You talk about this Brodya lot. Much more than you ever did that Jeremy fellow.’
‘Do I?’ Anna said. ‘I hadn’t realized.’
Her mother gave her a knowing look. ‘And you don’t think there might be a spark there between you when you finally meet?’
‘Mum… You’re as bad as Gabi! I’ve already told you I don’t think of him that way.’ She pulled a brightly wrapped package from underneath the tree and handed it to her mother, shaking her head.
Her mother was planning on serving up a traditional English Christmas lunch, so there was plenty of work to be done before the select handful of friends they’d invited turned up later, so as soon as they’d finished dishing out presents and clearing away the wrapping paper, all three of them headed into the kitchen.
Anna began to chop onions for her mother’s favourite stuffing recipe – pork with fresh chestnuts – and as her knife hit the chopping board in a repetitive motion, she couldn’t help thinking about what her mother had said about Brody, and each time she did, there was a worrying fluttering in her stomach, a tickling she recognized but quickly decided she’d really rather not label.
ANNA WOKE ON Boxing Day to a most spectacular view. Her parents had the large back garden her father had always dreamed about, with woodland beyond, and that morning it was covered in five inches of snow. Unlike London, nowhere near the amount to faze the locals or stop them going about their business, but just enough to make it look as if the whole world was a clumsily iced Christmas cake.
There was a soft knock at her bedroom door, and her mother appeared,carrying a tray. ‘Thought you might like breakfast in bed,’ she said as she laid it on the mattress.
Anna pushed herself up to sitting. ‘Oh, Mum… You shouldn’t have. Not after all the work you did yesterday.’
Her mother shrugged as she poured tea from a teapot. ‘I don’t get the chance to spoil you much, so just let me, okay?’
Anna smiled at her. ‘Okay,’ she said, then settled down to eat her breakfast while her mum sat in the armchair near the window. When she was finished, Anna stretched again and prepared to swing her legs around and place her feet on the floor. ‘I could stay in bed all day if I put my mind to it.’
Her mother picked the tray up. ‘Then why don’t you?’
Anna frowned, the soles of her feet only an inch above the thick carpet. ‘But we’re supposed to be going to that open house Colin and Janet are throwing, aren’t we?’
