Love At Christmas, Actually. Jenny Oliver
going to be going soon, and I’m worried about Skye getting attached to you.’
‘And what about you? Are you worried about being attached to me?’ He leaned in closer until she was settled in his arms again.
‘Yes. I am,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve managed pretty well without you these last ten years and…’
‘And you don’t want me to come on in, fuck it all up and have to start again from scratch,’ Lucas nodded. ‘I get it, Meg, I do. But at some point, you’re going to have to let someone in. No one’s going to be good enough for the two of you, but you have to take a chance.’
She rested her head against his, breathing deeply, knowing he was right, but still not able to let go of that fear. It wasn’t just her life any more, it was Skye’s. The poor kid had been through enough trauma this week. It was safer to be alone.
‘Trouble!’ Skye ran back. ‘Are we going to give Mum her present now? Or tomorrow?’
‘Up to your mum, kid,’ Lucas said, searching Megan’s eyes for the answer.
She took a deep breath.
‘Tomorrow. Lucas will come by tomorrow and we’ll eat and do presents after dinner.’
Skye clapped her hands in glee, a motion she’d no doubt stolen from her grandmother.
She looked at him. ‘I’m really trying.’
‘I know you are, babe. I’m just trying to keep on knocking those walls down every time you put a new one up. You don’t have to do everything on your own any more. You never had to.’
He kissed her cheek gently, knelt down to give Skye a hug, and some sort of deeply complicated handshake they’d created. And then he was gone, leaving Megan bereft and relieved all at once.
December 2005
Megan was trying to be upbeat, holding Skye close to her as they sat around looking at the Christmas tree in the centre. They’d been kind, the people there, finding her a room. She’d made her money last, sparingly spending on food, trying to figure out what she could do. She thought there might be a way to use the crèche at the centre, and look for a job. If she could get a job, she could get out. But Skye wasn’t even six months yet, and the idea of leaving her with strangers made Megan’s chest contract. She’d crashed with Beanie, a friend who’d gone off to uni in London the year before. Beanie’s parents were loaded, and she had a gorgeous flat in Chalk Farm. But the point was that a baby in student accommodation wasn’t really fair, and she’d always planned to leave. She needed a plan, and for once she didn’t have one. She’d applied for housing, would be getting a little money every month when the papers went through, she’d been assured, but until then she was waking up each morning in the hostel, not sure if there’d be a bed for them the next night. As much as the people at the centre were trying to help her, she was still scared all the time. She’d known it was going to be difficult, but she didn’t really think about what ‘homeless mother’ meant before. She’d only been focused on leaving her mother’s disgusted look behind her. She was never going back. She’d put up with whatever she needed to.
Skye looked up at her, big hazel eyes already intelligent and loving. ‘We’re going to be okay, baby girl. I promise.’ She held her close, rocking her back and forth, and wondered what her parents were doing. Whether Matty was still waking up late and rolling down just in time for dinner, his Christmas Eve-induced hangover debilitating as always. She imagined the smell of the turkey, and her mother’s gingerbread stained-glass biscuits. How the tree always looked so higgledy and yet so perfect, with the same radio station playing in the background until she nearly went nuts with Christmas carols.
‘We’ll make our own traditions, baby,’ she whispered, her lips to Skye’s forehead. ‘We’ll start completely new.’
‘McAllister? Is Megan McAllister here?’ The woman from the reception desk walked through, waving a piece of paper. Megan raised her hand.
‘There’s a woman here to see you. She says she’s your aunt.’ The lady handed over a Christmas card. On the front there was a picture of Mary in the stables, surrounded by the animals and the three wise men. Inside the card read:
‘A bit late to offer my barn for the birth (it took a while to track you down). Please spend Christmas with me? From one black sheep to another. Anna.’
‘Is she still here?’ Megan asked the woman, who nodded. Megan picked up her bag, nodded, and walked out into the snow.
***
That night, after Lucas left, Megan felt like Skye might need distracting, seeing as she kept playing the old red fender and talking about music non-stop.
‘Shall we call Anna and wish her Merry Christmas?’ Megan said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be crazy busy with her decorating and her guests, but let’s see if she can fit us in, eh?’
Skye was more than keen, and they sat up on the bed, legs crossed, the phone on speakerphone in between them.
‘Anna! Merry Christmas!’ they sang down the phone when she answered.
‘Well, hello darlings, Merry Christmas,’ her throat croaked.
‘Have you got a cold?’ Skye asked, concern etched across her face. Anna was never sick.
‘A little bit. I suppose I may have overdone it this party season, darlings.’ Anna coughed slightly. ‘Jeremy has been a great help though. It looks beautiful. Completely twenties. I’ll leave the decorations up so you can see them when you get home.’
‘And you haven’t opened your present yet?’ Megan checked, her voice overly cheerful as she watched Skye, hand to cheek, eyes calculating.
‘No, mother, I’ve been completely good.’ She could hear Anna rolling her eyes. The word mother stuck, and Megan thought suddenly, Anna’s my grandmother. Skye’s great-grandmother.
‘And are you girls having a good time in the village? Everything as painfully quaint and ordinary as usual?’ Anna drawled, her derision evident.
‘Well, we made friends with Lucas, and I’m learning to play with the guitar, and Granddad plays chess, and Gran makes cookies, and I met my biological father in a fish and chip shop, but he was pretty boring, so I don’t think it’s a great loss.’
Anna wheezed, ‘Well, that certainly sounds eventful, darling. Definitely something to put in your diary.’
‘It’s not a diary! It’s a detective notebook!’ Skye whined.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, of course. I miss you and your wonderful quirks very much. I can’t wait to see you when you get back.’ There was a pause and she wheezed heavily. ‘Do you think I could talk to your mum in private for a minute, love? Is that okay? And me and you will have our private chat tomorrow?’
Skye shrugged, looking at her mum, who nodded.
‘Okay, love you!’
‘Love you too, sweetness. Merry Christmas.’
Megan picked up the phone and turned off speakerphone. ‘Why don’t you go see if grandma needs any help trying to make that Oreo cheesecake she’s especially making for you? You’re an expert.’
Skye looked irritated. ‘You don’t need to find excuses, I know you need to talk in private.’ She flounced out of the room, and Megan waited until she heard the heavy footsteps running down the stairs.
‘What’s going on, Anna?’ she said simply.
‘I’m not very well, darling, as I’m sure you’ve heard.’