Page 22 of The Christmas Star

My brow knitted. ‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’

‘We’re gonna learn to live again, aren’t we, lad?’

‘What’s this we business?’

‘Now, if you haven’t already grasped the clues of our first adventure…’

‘Adventure?’ Mum was raising more questions than she was answering.

‘…you’ll have to watch this space to find out more. Oh, and please leave a comment. I’m told that’s what people do here on TickyTok.’ Maeve gave her audience a smile. ‘I suppose all that’s left to say is Au revoir, tout le monde.’ She copied Jackson’s one movement wave. ‘À bientôt!’

As Mum’s video went into auto replay, my mind whirred. There was obviously a connection between it and her current leave of absence, but as I looked for the clues she’d referred to, my eyes and ears failed me. Despite her claim, Mum revealed nothing and because she was sitting on Dad’s bench which faced the garden, all I saw was the kitchen window and a brick wall behind her.

Refusing to be beaten, I got up from the sofa and taking my torch with me, headed outside. Frustrated, I shone it around the area in which Mum had filmed, but the only item of note was a half-dead potted lavender. ‘There’s got to be something here.’ I continued to scan but it was to no avail.

Flummoxed, I plonked myself down on Dad’s bench and considered the video in its entirety. Mum speaking in a foreign language… There was nothing new there; the woman had been obsessed with French for months. Her beret and Breton jumper… A questionable fashion choice she probably thought made her look quirky for the camera. Talk of an adventure… Mum hardly left the house so even a bus ride to Leeds would be massive.

I raised the torch and again lit up the potted plant. Images of Provence lavender fields flitted through my mind. ‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s too obvious.’ Glancing further afield, my gaze automatically returned to the pot. ‘She wouldn’t. Not without telling me. Not right before Christmas.’

I jumped up from my seat and ran back into the house. Heading straight for the dining room, I put my torch to one side and opening one dresser drawer after another, I rifled through each of them until they were almost empty. ‘It’s got to be here,’ I said. ‘This is where she keeps it.’

Pausing, I put one hand on my hip and the other against my forehead as I surveyed the mess I’d made. With no passport in sight, it seemed I finally knew where Mum and Jackson had gone and I envisaged the two of them on an aeroplane, chatting about cheese, wine and the Mona Lisa as they buckled themselves up ready for take-off. ‘Mum, how could you?’

The words how, when and why ran through my mind and as I paced up and down, I wanted to cry. In less than twenty-four hours I’d gone from thinking I was up for a promotion to finding out my job was at risk, to having a grieving Mum who’d finally lost all sense of reason.

I picked up my phone and opened Mum’s most recent message – Betty White mimicking Usain Bolt under the words old but still lit then looked in the direction of the lounge where my laptop sat waiting for me to write my presentation. ‘And I thought I was ruining Christmas.’

I recalled a previous visit when I’d walked in to find a smog-filled kitchen thanks to a pan of potatoes that had been left to boil dry. With Mum nowhere in sight, the deafening screams of the smoke alarm almost burst my eardrums as I threw open the back door and removed the charred pot from the heat. I was still cursing when Mum appeared with a towel around her head, seemingly oblivious to the danger she’d been in.

‘I nipped up for a shower and forgot about it,’ she simply said in response, her matter-of-fact reaction doing nothing to allay the what-ifs running around my brain. ‘I’m not the first to ruin a pan and I certainly won’t be the last.’

In my view, her charred and blackened cookware could easily have turned into a burning building. While in Mum’s view, I needed to stop being a drama queen.

My chest tightened. If Mum couldn’t remember she’d put a pan on the stove, how was she going to remember the way back to her hotel after a day’s sightseeing. I pictured her and Jackson getting separated in a crowd. Mum becoming lost and confused as, taking one wrong turn after another, she tried to navigate a foreign city. My heart raced at the prospect but I told myself not to panic and that I could be wrong.

Realising there was only one way to know for sure, I headed out into the hall, put on my coat and slipped my feet into my work heels. Not the best footwear to be wearing in sub-zero temperatures but I had little choice and steeling myself, I grabbed my torch again and walked out the front door.

CHAPTER 17

It was freezing outside and with the cold biting, I pulled my coat tight across my front with one hand, while using the torch to light my way with the other.

The thick frost had further hardened making my path extra treacherous, and thanks to my inappropriate footwear, I suddenly slipped, slid and flailed my arms like a freestyle figure skater. My heart was in my mouth by the time I reached the safety of Theo’s house. I banged on his door and waited for him to answer.

Finally, I heard movement from inside.

As he opened the door, Theo clocked my heels and pyjama bottoms. ‘Nice combo.’

‘I know where they’ve gone.’ With no time for niceties, I brought up Mum’s TikTok and thrust my phone his way and as he focused on the screen I took in his black oversized T-shirt and black baggy jogging pants. Elasticated ankle wear usually made me frown but even paired with slippers this man made them look good.

He looked from Mum to me, his expression confused. ‘Is that…?’

‘My mother? On TikTok? Oh, yes.’ I nodded for him to watch it.

Theo gestured me inside and following him down the hall, I was immediately transported back to my childhood; his house smelled of Christmases past. I breathed in the aromas of orange, vanilla, cinnamon and ginger and as we entered the kitchen, my eyes widened at the sight that met me.

Theo clocked my surprise. ‘Sorry about the mess,’ he said. ‘It was either this or sit here clock watching.’

Little Erin was delighted by the lines of biscuit covered cooling racks, mince pie mountains and coconut pyramids. However, the estate agent in me felt disappointed. It would have been nice to finally see the room I’d heard so much about in all its glory.