Page 56 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Meg told me I shouldn’t get married.’

‘Because there was a risk of getting hurt?’

‘Yes, and I know there’s no guarantee for anyone, but she somehow only saw history repeating itself. She knew I wanted children and she tried to talk me out of ever having to go through what Mum did or put my family through what we’d had to deal with.’

‘And that’s why you don’t talk? Because she didn’t approve of Dad?’

‘Kind of.’

She waited. She knew there would be more.

And her mum told her everything. How Meg had come to the wedding, stood up in front of the congregation and made her feelings known. She told her how Meg had ruined the reception by crashing into the table with the cake on top. And then she told her about her dad’s wake and what she did there.

Sarah stood beside her mum at the window in shock. Auntie Meg seemed nothing like the person her mum was describing.

‘This is the part where you tell me it’s been long enough,’ said Chrissie, ‘that it’s time we put the past where it belongs.’

When she leaned against her mum, she felt an arm wrap around her and the warmth of a hug as she said, ‘That’s up to you isn’t it?’

Sarah only hoped they’d get the chance to talk, because after all these years it sounded as though perhaps her mum realised how she might feel if she lost Meg for good.

As the snow and the wind continued to do their worst beyond the window, making the chalet shudder with unfamiliar noises, Sarah hoped beyond anything that Meg was okay. That she would be found.

And soon.

20

CHRISSIE

‘We should’ve heard something by now.’ Her dad paced at the window to the lounge.

Chrissie had taken her mum’s place to be with her dad so Astrid could take solace in the kitchen, and she’d done all she could to make him sit down and take it easy, but it was impossible. ‘I’m sure we will hear something soon, Dad.’

Sarah indicated she’d stay so Chrissie could go back to her mum. They were a tag team, trying to keep everyone positive, and it felt good to be like that with her daughter. Sarah was more mature than Chrissie had ever realised, and whatever she decided about her and Rhys’s future, Chrissie felt sure it would be for the best.

In the kitchen, Chrissie found her mum at the stove, making soup.

‘We all need to eat.’ Astrid finished chopping a couple of onions before moving on to slicing the leeks.

Chrissie silently picked up another knife and chopping board and worked alongside. She diced the carrots and peeled the potatoes.

‘The potatoes should be in cubes.’ Astrid chopped one piece to demonstrate the size.

Astrid loved the kitchen, always had. And whenever she’d been overly worried about her husband being away and serving his country, she’d turned her attentions to cooking. Over the years, the girls had embraced the comfort, not only from the food but for the peace and joy it brought their mum when they knew her thoughts were elsewhere.

Her mum measured out milk and prepared the stock while Chrissie grated cheese and found the little jar of nutmeg which Chrissie remembered always went into this special soup.

‘Meg will need something warming when she gets back,’ her mum said as if Meg had nipped out in fine weather and would return at any second.

Chrissie wasn’t going to say otherwise. It was getting dark now. The weather hadn’t let up and they’d heard absolutely nothing.

Chrissie remembered losing her purse in the snow out the back of the chalet once. It had tumbled from her pocket and no matter how thoroughly they searched the garden, they couldn’t find it, not until the day the snow melted and it appeared as if from nowhere. It had been so hidden.

What must it be like looking for someone in a blizzard? Next to impossible, probably.

She wished she hadn’t gone to Jonathan’s to get Sarah. If she hadn’t, perhaps Meg would still be there, tucked up in the warm.

She’d do anything right now to have Meg come back so they could talk. She’d been protecting her own heart for so long that she hadn’t wanted to let Meg back in in case it was the wrong thing to do.