Jenny Oliver - Love At Christmas, Actually

Lucas had always been good at cool. When Fliss the Blockbuster girl had dumped him after two weeks of snogging and not much else, he’d written “A girl with tattoos got my heart like a needle”, and performed it in the video store. It got a lot of hits on Myspace and he left with a newly-made groupie on each arm.

‘Well, I’m sorry you lost out,’ Megan shrugged, stamping to keep warm. What was there to say? I’m sorry I left you? I’m sorry I lied? I’m sorry I hurt you but it was the best decision of my life?

‘In more ways than one,’ Lucas said simply, his brow furrowed, eyes dark in the dim lighting of the pub garden. Megan reached into her pockets for her gloves, pulled them onto her shaking, numb hands with effort.

‘Well, I’d better be going. I liked your set.’

‘Any of it sound familiar?’

‘You always stole from real life.’ She smiled softly, looking for a chink in the armour. His face was impassive, eyes darker than they used to be. ‘I’m sorry, inspired by real life to create illusion,’ she corrected.

‘If the feeling is real, then the story is too,’ Lucas nodded, remembering some ancient mantra he must have said once to her, a lifetime ago. It sounded like him.

‘It was good to see you, I’ve got to go–’ she started off the path, trying to get away before he could ask her.

‘Megan,’ he said. ‘Why did you go?’

She turned, shivering, the cold and the snow, and those last mystical chords of each song that reverberated through her history with this man seemed to cut her to the core.

‘Because there was no point dragging you down with me,’ Megan said simply, arms wide, waiting for him to argue or shout or shrug and leave her standing there. Why had he offered? Why had he wanted to save her? Why did she have to be the bad one?

‘Do you regret anything?’

Yes , she was wanted to scream. Y es, I should have stayed with you, and my parents would have softened and I wouldn’t have this chronic twinge in my chest when I think of you, or this ache now that you’re really here, staring at me like I let you down. And then Megan thought of Anna, of Jeremy. Of singing in the kitchen on Sunday mornings, of Pulp Fiction dance-offs, of Christmas decorations and Special Sangria, and the old biddies who showered her baby with presents and cookies and kindness. She couldn’t regret anything.

‘She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,’ Megan shrugged, and trudged up the hill, leaving him to watch her go. Which was more than she’d offered him before.

Chapter Five

‘Okay, so give me a list of suspects.’ Skye sat on the kitchen counter, taking out her notebook, whilst Heather searched for a missing pack of biscuits.

‘Suspects?’

‘Yes,’ Skye said seriously, ‘so I can start my investigation.’

Megan entered the room and ruffled Skye’s hair. ‘Skye McAllister and the case of the missing bourbons? Doesn’t really do you justice, hun.’

Skye rolled her eyes, and jumped down from the side. ‘So what are we doing today?’

Megan got herself a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a coffee, taking a moment to savour the good stuff her dad always insisted on buying from the farmers’ market. It was imported from South America, and it made him feel good thinking the money was going straight to Mr and Mrs Hernandez, or whoever owned the land, which probably wasn’t true at all. It tasted excellent though. She shook her head and focused on her daughter.

‘You were never this demanding, why can’t you just read a book?’ Megan shrugged.

‘Because there’s important work to be done,’ Skye said sternly, ‘and also, I’ve finished all my books.’

‘I’ve got an entire room of them upstairs.’

‘Babbling stories about teenage witches? Sorry Mum, not really my thing.’ Skye shared a glance with her grandmother.

‘Well all right, Snooty, if you feel that way I won’t take you out to the bookshop to buy you something.’

‘It’s five days til Christmas, you can’t buy her presents!’ Heather said in surprise, waving the lost packet of biscuits in triumph. ‘I found them!’

‘I will buy my daughter a present whenever I damn well please,’ Megan said, trying for jokey, but failing. Her mother looked at her and nodded. ‘Right, of course.’

Crap. Why was everything so bloody difficult?

‘Anyway, we don’t need more things for you to read, because you’re meeting your cousin today. I’m sure he’ll keep you busy.’

Skye tugged at her dark plait. ‘Mum, he’s five.’

‘Yeah, that’s why you’re going to be busy.’ Megan wriggled her eyebrows.

Her head still hurt, but she wasn’t sure if it was the bad cocktails, dehydration, or Lucas. He was here, he was really here. And now the memory of him was sitting in her gut like a marble. Every time she moved, she was reminded of him. Holding her hand as they walked down the street, performing, singing and laughing. She wouldn’t let her mind wander to the bad times. To saying goodbye, or Belinda, or Joey or any of that stuff that happened when she tried to do the right thing. She shook the history away and focused on Skye.

‘Skye McAllister… what are you wearing?’ Megan tilted her head to the side to assess her daughter’s Christmas jumper.

‘Don’t you like it? Me and Grandma worked on it last night,’ Skye said innocently.

The red woolly jumper, a Heather McAllister original that probably used to be hers, Megan thought, had been sewn into with gold thread. Except the reindeer outline was so skewed that his head seemed to be bent at a strange angle.

Heather nudged her. ‘It’s unique isn’t it? Just like Skye.’

She smiled at her grandchild, then made a face at Megan to say ‘don’t make the kid feel bad at how awful it looks.’

Megan shook her head as Heather left the room.

‘You did that on purpose, I’ve seen you sew your own school uniform. You’re probably better than my mother,’ Megan said knowingly.

Skye grinned. ‘But don’t you think it’s unique? I was actually thinking it would be a good band symbol – Dead Rudolph. What do you think?’

Megan looked around to an invisible audience. ‘I swear I didn’t drink when I was pregnant. Where are you getting this stuff from?’

‘Um, maybe because there have been Christmas carols playing on this radio non-stop and I’m going crazy?’ Skye shrugged, and moved a little closer. ‘Plus I miss Anna. She hasn’t called and she said she would.’

Megan stroked her daughter’s hair. ‘We’ll give her another day, then we’ll call her and complain about how much fun she’s having without us.’

Later that day, Matty, Claudia and Jasper arrived. Claudia was exactly how Megan remembered her from that one visit ten years ago. Cold and expensive. Plus she looked exactly the same. Megan had aged, got plumper and more worn, but Claudia looked like she’d been kept in bubble wrap, like a beautiful angel you only got out to put on the tree, then hid away the rest of the year. Her white blonde hair was pulled back tightly in a bun, and she kissed Megan on both cheeks, smirking a little at Megan’s surprise.

‘It’s so lovely to see you after all this time,’ she said graciously, her ice-blue eyes wide and unblinking. Then she transferred her attention to Skye. ‘Well aren’t you darling?’

‘I really wouldn’t know,’ Skye said, lips pursed, hands on hips.

‘Babe, now is not the time to be precocious,’ Megan whispered, ‘be nice.’

‘I am being nice, I’m not a darling. I’m a pain in the bum sometimes!’ Skye said loudly, and Megan shrugged, focusing on her brother, who laughed loudly.