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I leaned back in my seat as a cold shiver ran through me. ‘Hopefully on a flight to London,’ I said quietly. ‘I told him I didn’t want him, or us, or our shitty marriage.’

My dad reached over, squeezed my hand, and together we drove off.

‘Did Mum know you were coming out to get me?’ I asked, starting to thaw out with the heaters blasting out hot air.

He sniggered. ‘No, I was having a sneaky fag out the back when you phoned. She was finishing up putting out the crackers.’

I felt a twinge of disappointment inside.

‘Have I missed much?’ I asked, wondering if everyone was sticking to the plan. It was almost eleven, and the vegetables should be getting cut, and the potatoes peeled for everyone arriving at two.

My dad turned. ‘Only missed your maw and that Ina bossing every cunt and their granny about!’ He winked.

I smiled back, then stared out the window at the wintry city passing by. Wondering what I’d say when I walked in. Wondering if I’d be welcome after abandoning them all. My stomach churned, thinking about Jamie. What the hell must he be thinking if he knows I was in a hotel room with my husband all night? I mean, not that anything happened. Rupert’s dick was the last thing on my mind.

After ten minutes, my dad pulled up outside the community centre. I peeked in; the windows were steamed up with condensation and a lot of bodies moving purposefully about.

Fuck.

‘Right, you head in, and I’ll grab a smoke and park the car,’ Dad said with encouragement.

I gulped and managed a smile back, stepping out onto a sludgy pile of snow.

‘Well, here goes nothing, Harri,’ I murmured as I made my way into the centre.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I opened the door to the hall slowly, already bracing myself for chaos.

What hit me was absolute fucking carnage.

Steam clouded the windows. Mariah Carey screeched through a speaker that sounded like it had survived several house fires. Someone was shouting about burned pigs in blankets. And flushed kitchen volunteers grunted and moaned as they rushed past me.

‘WHO’S GOT THE GRAVY GRANULES?’ I heard someone call out.

Then immediately, ‘ASK MAGS!’

‘Mags is half canned already!’

I bit my lip, trying to hold it together.

‘Aye, I fucking know she is!’ Ina tutted back, then she turned and spotted me. ‘Well, it’s about fucking time, lady!’ She grinned by way of greeting.

‘Harri, hen!’ my mum shouted from the kitchen doors, already hurrying over with a tea towel flung over her shoulder. ‘Oh, thank Christ, get in here. We’re down three volunteers, and Sharon’s threatening to glass somebody if she doesn’t get to try the stuffing.’

‘Hand it over!’ Sharon yelled from the kitchen. ‘I need stuffing!’

I burst out laughing before I could stop myself. Mum wrapped her arms around me tightly. I held onto her for a second longer than usual. ‘Merry Christmas,’ I whispered into her shoulder.

She pulled back slightly, eyes scanning my face like she was checking I was really there. ‘You all right, sweetheart?’

I wasn’t. Not even a little bit all right. But for the first time in weeks, I felt like maybe I could be eventually. I nodded.

Dad rubbed his hands together, coming in from the car park. ‘Right, enough of the greeting card moments. She’s got two functioning arms. Put her to work.’

‘He’s right, we need you, Harri,’ Mum said immediately, grabbing my wrist. ‘Come on.’

Before I could answer, she’d dragged me through the swinging kitchen doors. The heat hit me instantly. Every surface was covered. Bowls of carrots. Trays of half-frosted cupcakes. Industrial-sized pots bubbling away. Someone in the corner was aggressively buttering rolls as if each floury bap had personally offended her.