Page 75

But Finn. Her heart lurches painfully. What will Finn do when he finds out? How will he cope? Oh God. She needs to tell him. She can’t keep this from him, can she?

Susan seems to contemplate Mel for a moment, both hands cupped around her mug. “When the kids were little,” she says slowly, “there was this one Christmas when Andrew didn’t come home on Christmas Eve. Mark must have been about twelve, I think. Andrew had stayed over somewhere, effectively got stranded with car issues and couldn’t make it back in time. He rang me about six a.m., woke me up, genuinely panicking. He wanted to be there, see—he knew the kids were excited—and he just hadn’t thought it through.” She gives a low sigh. “He never thought anything through, that man.”

Mel says nothing, just watches Susan’s face as she speaks. “Anyway, I remember thinking, well, I just have to keep it together, don’t I? It’s not like he hadn’t let me down before, countless times, and, mostly, I’d managed to block it out. But Christmas for some reason felt different—he’d always been there on birthdays, holidays, school plays. The things where the kids would really notice his absence. But I smiled, and hugged the kids, and told them nothing was wrong, all the while I had this awful feeling inside. It’s silly, isn’t it? I knew what he was like, I knew he’d been cheating on me, but for some reason this was the thing that really got to me? It was kind of a point of no return—the moment I realized there was no hope for us, despite the fact I stayed with him for years after.”

“I don’t think it’s silly,” Mel says quietly.

“Well. Most people would, I think. Most of my friends wondered why I put up with it. But that’s not the point. On the day, I pretended, and we opened the stockings without him and the kids were so excited. I’ve got no idea what was in any of them—but I remember Mark, who was turning into a teenager, being like a kid again, one of those moments you treasure when they are growing up too fast. And when Andrew made it back—before Christmas dinner, before the kids opened their main presents, they were so happy. I remember Hattie, running into his arms, laughing as he twirled her around. It’s crystal clear.” She taps her temple with her forefinger. “Andrew was in a crumpled shirt, his eyes tired, face drawn. He looked terrible, and like he might burst into tears. But he hugged Hattie and made up some excuse—that part I didn’t remember. But we ended up having such a laugh—and I knew where he’d likely been, what he’d been doing, but the kids opened the presents we’d chosen for them together, and I could tell they were so happy for us all to be together, and it was worth it.”

Mel’s heart is breaking a little, listening to this—imagining Susan on the verge of breaking down, trapped in a marriage and feeling unloved and let down on Christmas Day morning. Imagining little Finn and Hattie and Mark not understanding why their dad wasn’t there, Hattie delighted when he’d turned up—compared to Hattie now, who doesn’t want to speak to him. And here she is, this woman who has given everything for her kids, who might have made mistakes and inevitably handed down ideas of relationships to her children, but who has wanted the best for them, always.

“It was worth it,” Susan repeats firmly, “to keep them happy. And I made a promise to myself from then on that I wouldn’t let him ruin Christmas again. I always made sure we had the best day, have always loved having my kids around and seeing them happy. I want my family to have a last perfect Christmas together, Mel,” Susan continues. Mel flinches at the word “last.” If Susan sees, she doesn’t comment—and she doesn’t expand.

It might not be as bad as she thinks, Mel tells herself. And then, it can’t be as bad as she thinks.

“I want them to be able to remember that, after everything.” She takes a deep breath. “I want you to promise me, Mel. I will tell them, after my appointment. But I want you to promise that you’ll help keep my secret until then. That you’ll let everyone—including me—enjoy this Christmas.” She reaches across the table to take Mel’s hand. “I know it’s a lot to ask. I’m sorry that I have to. But I need you to promise.”

And she can’t argue, can she? Because it is not her choice to make. So, against her better judgment, she finds herself whispering, “Okay. I promise.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Finn is getting dressed when, an hour or so later, Mel lets herself back into the bedroom. She has been trying to figure out what to do, how to act, because Finn will notice something is wrong the moment he sees her face, won’t he?

He smiles at her the moment she steps in. “Morning, sunshine.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Is that one of the nicknames we’re trying out?”

He grins, then cocks his head. “You okay? You look a little tired.”

So much for her poker face. “I’m fine!” Okay, that was too squeaky. Get a grip, Melanie. “Just, you know, up early, sneaking a peak at the stockings.”

“Please tell me you saw my mum sneaking around in a Santa costume.”

She laughs, but it sounds slightly hysterical. His mum. His mum has cancer—and he doesn’t know.

“Mel, are you sure you’re okay?” His mouth twists. “Or…is this about last night? Do you want to—?”

“No,” she says firmly. She pulls a hand through her hair. “I mean, yes, we can talk about it if you like—but, no, I’m not upset about it. I wanted it. I don’t regret it.”

He searches her face, as if he’s checking for the truth. Then he nods. “Okay. Good.”

Somewhere on the floor there is the sound of her phone ringing. Enormously grateful for the distraction, she immediately drops, looking for it.

“Shit,” she mutters. “That’ll be my parents.” And thank God for that.

Finn finds her phone, hands it to her. “I’m guessing they don’t know you’re with me?”

“Ah, no.” And she certainly doesn’t want to explain the extent to which they are together to her parents right now.

He kisses the top of her head. “I’ll shower.”

He grabs some things from around the room, then a towel off the back of the door, then glances back at her. “Oh, and, Mel? Happy Christmas.”

She smiles, and it’s a little more real this time. “Happy Christmas, Finn.”

She quickly straightens the bedclothes, trying to make sure the bed doesn’t look too rumpled, before getting under the covers and propping her head against a pillow, trying to look comfortable and like she’s just woken up in a B and B.

Her parents’ faces fill her phone screen as she answers.