Page 1 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

PROLOGUE

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO

Dear Chrissie,

Merry Christmas from me to you.

I’m not sure if you’ll read this letter or whether you’ll ball up the paper and throw it in the bin or on the fire. I would understand if you did either of those things – it’s probably what happened with my other letters, and I can’t blame you.

I am so deeply sorry. For everything. I have made a ton of mistakes over the years, but the worst one was falling out with you. There hasn’t been a day since then that I haven’t regretted the things I said to you and what I did at your wedding. Ruining your big day like that will haunt me forever.

You have every right to be mad with me until the end of time. And I will never stop being sorry, Chrissie.

Can you find it in your heart to ever forgive me?

Love, your sister, Meg x

1

WINTERBRUCK, SWITZERLAND

Earl trudged from the front door of his chalet, the traditional wooden house in the Swiss Alps, to the mailbox at the end of the path. He made sure to be extra careful, because at eighty-four it was a big deal to fall over – there was always the chance he wouldn’t get up again, and he wasn’t about to miss out on Christmas. It was always the most wonderful time of the year, and here in Winterbruck, on the first day of December, they’d had so much snow that the entire town was covered and looked nothing short of magnificent.

He checked the Milchkasten – the bottom compartment of the mailbox, which got its name from the box milkmen delivered milk to years ago – but there were no parcels today. He unlocked the top section and pulled out a single letter, smiling with delight when he recognised the handwriting. This was from Sarah, their darling granddaughter. She’d been sending them letters since she first learned how to write, and even though she was twenty now she’d kept the habit going. He swore his heart grew bigger every time one of her letters made its way from England to the Swiss Alps.

Back inside the chalet, he hung up his coat before taking the letter into the living room. The comforting sweet smell of the cinnamon rolls that Astrid was baking in the kitchen wafted pleasantly in the air – she’d be on her third batch by now, all ready to package up and deliver to the neighbours, as his wife loved to do every December. Astrid had had a rough time of it over the last year or so, with investigations for heart trouble, and the doctors were still monitoring her regularly to make sure the medications were doing their job. She was at her happiest in the kitchen and he felt comforted and reassured when he could hear her humming away or talking to herself.

He sat in the armchair with the snow-dusted window on one side and their Christmas tree on the other. They’d lived in Winterbruck for over thirty years and no matter what the Swiss did when it came to Christmas, he and his wife had kept some of the traditions they’d had in their native England. Usually, it was the lady of the house who was more into Christmas and made the rules, but not for Earl. He was the one who tended to initiate getting everything ready and got impatient to start the preparations. Having the tree up in time for the calendar to flip to December was something he’d been firm on for years, ever since he’d left the army. He’d spent too many Christmases away from his family, or in a house that wasn’t their real home, so he wanted to well and truly make up for lost time.

The fire was roaring in the grate as he opened up the letter, which started in its usual way, with Sarah using the affectionate name of Grumps to address him. She’d called him that since she was a little girl. He blamed Astrid, who had told him he was a grump once and Sarah, having only just started to talk, picked up on it. Chrissie, Earl and Astrid’s youngest daughter and Sarah’s mother had done her utmost to convince Sarah that he was Gramps not Grumps, but Sarah refused to listen. And now… Well, it wouldn’t feel right if she called him anything else.

Dear Grumps and Nanna,

Hello from a grey and very cold Oxfordshire.

I can’t believe it’s already the end of November. I haven’t got an advent calendar for this year and already I’m kind of regretting it. It’s such a treat to have a little piece of chocolate every morning with my first mug of tea before I have to go out to work. Have either of you got one? Or has Auntie Meg sent you one of her novelty boxes of chocolates from her shop like she did last year?

He thought about his eldest daughter, Meg, head chocolatier at a renowned chocolaterie, in London no less, working hard all year round and rarely coming up for air. He and Astrid had been to see the shop for themselves quite a few years ago now, and had been so proud of Meg, although even then she’d been rushed off her feet. In fact, the job was why they didn’t see much of Meg, or at least that’s what he told himself. She’d come over when Astrid had had her first turn and the heart investigations started, but since then she hadn’t mentioned coming again. They hadn’t received a chocolate gift this year either which was odd. This time last year and the year before she’d sent them a beautifully presented package, inside which were novelty Father Christmas figures, snowmen, angels and robins, in a variety of chocolate flavours – milk, dark, some with peppermint, others with sea salt. Earl and Astrid had enjoyed a couple of chocolates every evening, comforted in the knowledge that their eldest daughter was thinking of them at Advent even if she couldn’t be with them very often.

He carried on reading Sarah’s letter…

Work has been really busy. We’ve just finished the job with the renovated house two streets away – the walls are teal. I know, Grumps, that you would love to paint one of the walls in your sitting room the same colour. So I’m going to back you up and we can perhaps convince Nanna together.

He chuckled. Good luck with that, Sarah. Astrid was a force of nature; Meg had the same strong head on her shoulders. And if Astrid didn’t like dark colours in their lounge – she’d found it all the more preposterous that he and Sarah had talked about only painting one wall – then the walls would stay the same.

He turned over the single sheet to read what was on the other side.

This is a very quick letter, and I will follow it up with a phone call, but I’m writing to ask you both something. And I really hope you’ll say yes.

Would I be able to come and stay for a while?

I know I’m getting married on New Year’s Eve, which isn’t too far away, but as you can’t be there I thought it would be really special if I came to visit you for Christmas. A break between now and the wedding would be lovely, and where better to take a holiday than Winterbruck?

I know it’s a big ask but I would love to see you both. And I haven’t had a Christmas in the Swiss Alps since I was twelve. I’ve really missed it and both of you.

Earl felt his spirits lift. Sarah was coming here? Well, that would be wonderful. It was the best Christmas present of all, and he couldn’t wait to tell Astrid.

But then sadness washed over him. Sarah was right – she hadn’t had a Christmas in the Swiss Alps for a very long time, not since the Christmas eight years ago when she came here with Chrissie. Anthony was due to join them for a family Christmas but while they were here, they’d received the devastating news that his son-in-law had been killed in a mid-air collision in the aircraft he was flying for the RAF. Chrissie had been widowed at age forty and Sarah had lost her dad at the age of twelve.