A. Michael - Driving Home For Christmas

‘Jonathan!’ the woman called, her voice wobbling, ‘they’re here!’ She walked out to greet them, her fluffy boot slippers surely getting wet on the ground. She seemed to stare at Skye a little too intensely, and Skye moved behind her mother, just a little. Detectives had to be safe, after all. She was just assessing the situation.

‘I’m sorry,’ the woman said, ‘we were trying to cook a turkey, as practice for the big day, and we forgot about it, and the stuffing went funny, and the fire alarm went off…’ She exhaled, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. She shook her head. ‘Not that any of that matters.’

The woman looked so anxious, her wide brown eyes just like her mum’s, that Skye felt sorry for her. She looked at Megan, who nodded, and walked over to the woman. She smiled her big white smile, the one she’d been perfecting in the mirror all week.

‘Hi!’ She stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Skye, you must be my grandmother.’

The woman half-laughed, and looked to Megan with a raised eyebrow. Megan looked back seriously, and nodded at her daughter, as if to say, ‘Well answer the girl then.’

‘I am! I am your grandmother, and I’m so pleased to finally meet you!’ Heather McAllister held Skye’s hands with both of her own, tears in her eyes. She shook her head. ‘Come on, come on. Leave the bags in the car, let’s have some cake. If I haven’t burnt that as well.’

Megan stayed put, her hand in Minnie’s fur, listening to the quiet, comfortable panting of her dear pet. It was sad to see her so old, hard of hearing and slow to move. But she was something to hold onto, something safe and steady going back into that house. Her mother looked different. Shockingly so. Her hair pinned up haphazardly, wearing comfy clothing, looking like a normal person instead of an ideal on a pedestal, so much better than ordinary people. Her mother had once told her that ‘comfort was for the weak’ and that making an impression was always the most important thing. Where was that woman now? Maybe things had really changed in ten years. Megan took a deep breath, held her head high, and crossed the threshold.

Chapter Three

May 2001

‘Happy birthday, darling!’ Her mother actually sounded cheery, Megan noted, as she sat down to a birthday breakfast, balloons attached to her chair. Matty threw a barely wrapped package at her, grabbed a coffee and shuffled back up to his bed, like the surly teenager he was. She peeled off the remainder of the newspaper that he’d screwed it up in and found his old remote control car that she’d always loved. She always loved Matty’s presents the best. He seemed to know her, even if he didn’t do much but grunt at her.

‘Open your presents!’

Heather was too excited, but Megan didn’t mind. It was a Saturday, she only had to go to tennis lessons and then she didn’t have to do anything else for the day, and her parents had even said she could have some friends from school round to the house. They’d even, miraculously, said her friend Lucas could come, even though Heather didn’t approve of ‘that mutton dressed as lamb mother of his’. It was her special day, and she was allowed to have her friends. She’d ignored her mother’s comment that it might show those kids what a real upbringing looked like.

Megan delicately peeled back the Sellotape and uncurled the corners of her first present. A soft, square package. A T-shirt, she guessed. Yep. She pulled out the yellow top with ‘Cambridge University’ emblazoned on the front. She looked up to her mother’s eager face and tilted her head.

‘Do you like it? Isn’t it wonderful? A symbol of the bright path our little Megan is on!’ Heather squeezed her cheeks. ‘Open the others!’

Apart from Matty’s and her mysterious Auntie Anna’s present (a huge box of posh chocolates as always, and a pair of sparkling silver hoop earrings that seemed too grown up for her to own), every other present was Cambridge-themed. A mug, a calendar, a satchel bag. Apparently the theme was ‘happy birthday, we gave you life, now we’ve decided what you’re going to do with it.’

But everyone seemed so happy, so Megan just smiled and as the birthday cake with the university logo was brought in, she closed her eyes and wished for something that was hers.

***

The first meet and greet was a terrifying mix of awkwardness and nostalgia. Megan sat in the kitchen, instinctively choosing the same seat she’d always sat at for dinner, and wondered if her mother noticed these things too. Luckily Skye was so excited she was talking ten to the dozen, and taking up most of the awkward silence with her enthusiasm. Which would have seemed natural if she hadn’t kept turning to Megan and giving her significant looks, which seemed to say ‘I’ve got this covered, Mum.’ Which just made Megan love her more, the little nutter.

‘I really love cake!’ Skye said, seated next to Megan at the kitchen table.

Heather McAllister sat opposite gingerly, then leaned in, head on her hand, as if it was the most important question in the world. ‘What’s your favourite?’

‘Chocolate fudge! Or maybe Oreo Cookie Cheesecake that Mum makes.’

Skye looked up at her and smiled, then dove into the lemon drizzle cake that Heather was so worried about.

‘Well, maybe we can try and make that while you’re here?’ Heather smiled, looking tentatively at Megan.

Megan shrugged, half-smiled and nodded, realising she hadn’t really said anything since she’d set foot in the house. It was like she was shell-shocked.

‘Whe……’ She cleared her throat. ‘When’s Matty down?’

Heather briefly looked disappointed, but threw herself into it. ‘Tomorrow, I think he’s going to bring Jasper round to meet Skye. I think there was talk of going to see the carols in the town square, have some hot chocolate, play some hook a duck?’

Megan wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this, sitting there sipping her tea, back straight as a rod as her mother tried her hardest to make things easier. But to play along with it was to forget, and to start an argument was to throw all this away, this chance they’d been given. Limbo.

She smiled. ‘Sounds great, doesn’t it, kid?’

Skye nodded, face full of cake.

‘Dad joining us at all?’ Megan asked, sure that her father was hiding somewhere in the house, unsure of how to deal with emotional situations.

‘I think he’s in the den. Doing some work on…something.’ Heather shrugged helplessly. She’d never been good at lying. That was the problem that night, her horror and disgust so clear on her face before she could wipe the slate clean. She’d been unable to hide it, and Megan was unable to unsee it.

‘How about if I go?’ Megan suggested tentatively, certain of how to deal with her father, rather than the mother she had disappointed so very badly.

Heather nodded. ‘You know where it is. Me and Skye can talk about all the fun things we can do this week, can’t we?’

Skye nodded and made a shooing motion at her mother, patting her grandmother’s hand. That child was an emotional manipulator of the highest degree. Or she was just enjoying herself. It was pretty hard to tell.

Megan walked out of the kitchen and through into the living room, pausing a moment to admire Old Piney, still holding up after all these years. The tree had been modernised just a bit, the lights now a classy white instead of multicoloured, the ornaments all slightly more organised, more co-ordinated than they had been. At the top she saw a little red clay hand print that read ‘Jasper’s first Christmas’ and thought perhaps she should have brought Skye’s as a gift. To let her really be part of this family. So far, so…awkward.