It was the whisky bottle which had eventually provided solace – or at least temporary oblivion – for Max after Krys had left him. There was a payback, of course, and he’d woken early and dragged himself out of bed into the bathroom with a dry mouth and a thumping head.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror and recoiled. This wasn’t the same person who’d looked back at him on the night of the ball. That man had been smart, tidy, well-rested and – yes, happy. This creature was unkempt and haggard, could easily be a decade older than his thirty-seven years.
He hadn’t trusted himself to visit Laurel immediately after her visit. He needed to calm down and tame his emotions first. She might even have gone back to London … all he really knew was that he dreaded another confrontation with her.
Jake’s collar chinked against his bowl in the kitchen, reminding Max that at least one creature was still depending on him. He felt ashamed. He couldn’t erase the lines on his face, the years of being out in all weathers, but he could haul himself out of his pit.
After washing down paracetamol with a gallon of coffee, he hauled his carcass into the shower and dragged a comb through his hair, wondering what the hell he was going to do next.
Before the ball, he’d been putting the finishing touches to a special gift he’d made for Krys. He’d nursed a fantasy of inviting her to spend Christmas with him. He’d been hoping she would say yes, and suggest they spent it at Holly Manor, where he would cook dinner and they’d sit in front of the fire with Jake … and maybe later, he’d be invited to stay longer …
How ridiculous that sounded now.
A nudge on his hand reminded him Jake needed attention. He’d let him out for a run briefly but now the dog deserved a proper walk. No matter how shitty Max felt, he owed him that.
Jake gazed up at him through trusting eyes. He wanted something, of course, but that look reminded him of Thomas and how he’d believed Santa would help; the total trust and faith he’d had in a lie that Max had perpetuated.
Still in limbo about what to do next, if anything, Max returned to the workshop. It was a raw morning, the chill deepening as the day crawled on.
He had to switch on the workshop light.
There on the work bench lay Krys’s gift.
He didn’t have the heart to work on it now. It was useless coming in here. What was the point, when there was no one to give it to?
No one special. Only strangers.
‘Max?’
‘Krys?’
A woman was framed in the doorway.
She stepped inside and his heart sank. A trick of the light had fooled him.
‘Jo. I hadn’t expected you …’
Jo looked sheepish. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you but I didn’t have any other way of contacting you. Krys mentioned you don’t have a signal or wi-fi. I’m on my way home so I made a detour.’ She held out a cardboard folder. ‘These are for you.’
‘Me?’
‘Well, strictly speaking, they’re for Santa, but they are yours, really. We’ve had a dozen emails from parents and carers since yesterday and two hand-delivered notes. I printed the emails off. I thought you’d like to see them.’
‘Thank you.’ He took the folder. ‘Are you sure they’re for me, not the centre staff?’
She laughed. ‘We’ve had some lovely thank you’s too and I’ve passed those on to Krys as well, but these are specifically for you.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ll leave them with you.’ She seemed pretty desperate to go. ‘The centre is closed for the holidays until New Year. We’re all ready for a break. Can’t wait for Christmas.’
‘No. I bet.’
‘Happy Christmas, then,’ she said cheerily.
‘You too.’ Max forced a smile and waved as Jo left the workshop, eager and excited as any of the children she’d been looking after.
He ached for that carefree feeling of anticipation; of looking forward again, not languishing in the past. He could see no way it would ever happen.
After switching off the light, he returned to the Bothy, leaving the workshop as it had been. He made himself a coffee, and settled down on the sofa, steeling himself to read the messages.
He felt he owed it to the children.
They had obviously been written by the kids’ parents, or with their help. They told him of the lovely time they’d had, how much they’d loved the grotto – that was Krys’s doing – and meeting him. How special it had made Christmas. The words ‘magical’ had been used.
Dear Santa, Thank you for the present.
I now know you are real and there is magic in the world.
Max lifted his eyes to the ceiling, telling himself not to pile on any more emotion to a soul already as raw as the day outside.
Unfolding the last piece of paper, he braced himself. It was written in felt tip with drawings of a reindeer and a sleigh. There was a picture of a Santa and his elf. He knew from the enormous ears that it was Krys – and him.
He stared at the paper a good while before it slipped from his fingers onto the floor, all the bones in his body slowly turning to putty. He could not move. All the fight, the spirit, the rage had left him. How long he sat there, he didn’t know, but it was growing dark when, finally, Jake licked his hand and whined.
The dog cocked his head on one side. It was almost dusk but it wasn’t too late … there was still time, if he got a move on.
Jake laid his head on Max’s knee, hinting he still hadn’t had his walk.
‘I think,’ Max said to Jake, who would have listened even if he’d been reciting the ingredients on a biscuit packet, ‘that I’ve let down a lot of people lately.’ He patted the dog’s head. ‘And I’m afraid I’m about to do the same to you, boy.’
With life surging back to his limbs, Max took down the lead and grabbed his car keys, causing Jake to spring up and yip in excitement.
‘We are going out,’ he explained as if Jake might have an opinion. ‘But maybe not where you expected. Come on. Let’s try to repair some of the mess I’ve created.’
Lights were twinkling in the valley when Max drove back towards Thorndale, feeling that, at least, one small but important burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Now, all he had to do was come to terms with the weight of guilt that had been placed back on them. Laurel was clearly still grieving deeply for her sister.
He would always do that too, but grief could surely be a part of him while not stealing away any more of his future?
On his way back from his errand, he called in at The Cock, hoping to speak to Laurel. Leaving Jake in the car with the windows open, he walked to the residents’ entrance. Pints in hand, a few revellers were vaping and singing along to the Christmas music blaring out from the bar.
He passed the deserted reception desk, went straight up the stairs to Laurel’s room and knocked.
He heard noises and the door opened.
‘Max?’ She blew out a breath. ‘I thought you wouldn’t come. I almost checked out myself.’
This wasn’t a good start. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. Please, can I come in?’
She nodded. ‘I suppose you’d better.’
Great, he thought. ‘Thanks.’
The room was stifling. The Cock had clearly pushed the heating up off the scale. The bed was covered with clothes and Laurel’s suitcase was still half-open on the floor, as if she hadn’t been able to decide whether to stay or go. He decided not to bother with any preamble: whatever he said was sure to upset her, but he felt by not being brutally honest, he would do greater harm to them both.
‘There’s something I have to say, and I’m going to apologise in advance if you’re hurt by it. I would never add to your pain for a single moment, but I have to say this. I’ll go mad if I don’t. I can’t go on like I have been.’
She stared at him. God, she looked as if she was going to burst into tears.
‘First, I want to you read these. Read them, and tomorrow, if you still want to talk to me, come and fetch me.’
He handed over the folder.
She stared at it. ‘What’s in it?’
‘Letters from some of the local kids. You see, not only did I go to a ball, but the day before that I played Santa at a children’s party. The person who was meant to do it couldn’t, so I stepped in.’
Her lips parted in astonishment. ‘You played Santa …’
‘Yes, I did, and I’m sorry if you’re shocked but I’m not going to apologise for it,’ he said firmly. ‘In fact it was a privilege, and if you read these letters, I hope you’ll see why. Now, I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She clutched the folder to her body. ‘There’s no need to wait until tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I was coming over to the Bothy anyway.’
To berate him? To say she was going home to London? He could do nothing about her decisions.
‘I’d like you to read the letters first, then I’ll come back after I’ve walked Jake around the pub.’
Closing the door on the stuffy room, he collected Jake from the car for his walk. The lane outside the pub wasn’t an ideal outing for a restless border collie but there were enticing smells, and the darkness held no fear for a dog who knew every inch of his territory.
He tried to home in, if only for a few minutes, on the senses of the night: an owl hooting, woodsmoke on the crisp winter air. It was also impossible to ignore the lights of the pub and the Christmas music from the bar, the people laughing and winding down ready for the holiday.
Leaving Jake in the car again with a treat, he braced himself for another encounter with Laurel. With a heart bursting with things he needed to say, he knocked on the door.
‘Max?’ She was red-eyed with crying.
He almost faltered but went inside. ‘Even if you don’t want to talk to me, I need to speak to you.’
He spotted the folder on the bed.
‘Have you read them?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘They’re very moving,’ she said mechanically. Her tone filled him with profound sadness. If those letters hadn’t got through to her, nothing would, but he was going to say his piece anyway.
‘Max. I—’
‘No, wait. I have to say this and I have to tell you now in case I change my mind, and that would be a tragedy. Someone said to me recently that the way I’ve been behaving isn’t what Erin would have wanted. It’s a cliché to say that to the grieving, but in this case, I know it’s absolutely true.’
Laurel sat down heavily on the bed. ‘Go on.’
‘We both know how badly Erin longed for a family and how much she hoped it would happen. I can’t change that but I can change what I do from now on. I know she would surely have wanted me to embrace the spirit of the children and families who sent those messages. She’d have wanted me to get up off the floor again.’ He paused for breath.
‘Max …’
‘She would have wanted me to move on, always loving her in my heart but also making space for other people – for a family – for …’
‘Krys?’
‘Yes. For Krys,’ he declared. ‘Though I doubt very much she’ll make room for me after how I treated her.’
‘After I left?’
He nodded. ‘It wasn’t your fault. It was my decision how I reacted to what you said. I didn’t have to pass my own hurt and guilt on to her.’
‘It was my fault. I was coming to see you to say I’m sorry for what I said. I have lain awake. I have done something unforgivable. I was so shocked – so angry for Erin …’
‘What do you mean? I’m not angry at what you said to me.’
‘Oh, Max. It’s not what I said to you, though that was unforgivable. It’s what I said to Krys.’
He stiffened. ‘Krys?’
‘I – I went round to the house that she’s staying and I told her to – I told her she should stay away from you, that it was disrespectful to Erin and you could never be happy again with anyone else. And now I wish – I wish – I hadn’t done it. I was coming over now to warn you and then to apologise to Krys.’
‘Oh my God.’ He felt sick.
Laurel clutched at his arm. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve been blinded by grief, but coming here and finding out you’d been to the ball and stayed the night with Krys, and then realising you’d forgotten about the anniversary … I thought it meant you’d forgotten Erin and also I was jealous. Jealous that you’d found hope and happiness again. It tipped me over the edge.’
‘I’ll never forget Erin.’
‘I know that. These letters from the children are beautiful and you’re right, they do show that you need to go out and enjoy life, live it to the full, help people, be happy.’
‘I need to talk to Krys, before it’s too late.’
‘It might already be too late. I – God forgive me – told her to leave Thorndale.’
‘To leave?’ He made a decision in a heartbeat. ‘I have to go and see her right now.’
‘I wish I could unsay everything I threw at her. I wish I could undo a lot of things.’
‘Don’t we all? But we can’t.’
Laurel burst into tears. His own emotions were seething, but he embraced her, soothing her and understanding exactly what she’d been through. ‘We can both live our lives, I’m not angry with you, only sad for you. But I have to go.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, try to find her. Tell her I’m sorry. I’ll – I’ll go over there myself but you first.’
He jogged down the pub stairs out to his car. He drove faster than he should have through the narrow lanes to Holly Manor, but there wasn’t another soul around on this dark night. No stars were visible under the cloudy sky and he thought it might snow. He had to reach Holly Manor and try to repair the damage that had been done. He could only pray that Krys would listen and forgive him.
He shot through the gates and pulled up with a spray of gravel. There was a vehicle on the drive but it wasn’t Krys’s hire car.
The front door opened and Nikki walked out, with a bag full of rubbish.
Max knew what it meant.
‘She’s gone, hasn’t she?’
Nikki frowned. ‘Yes … about half an hour ago. She’s on the way to London to spend Christmas with a friend.’
Max swore.
‘I thought she might have told you,’ Nikki said gently.
‘No,’ he said, then added desperately, ‘Is she coming back?’
‘I don’t think so. The place is rented until the second of January but – all her stuff is gone.’
His groan echoed into the darkness.
‘I’m sorry, Max. Can I do anything to help?’
‘No. No one can.’
He jumped in the Landy, with Nikki shouting, ‘Max! Be careful!’
He’d spent so long trying to avoid getting close to anyone else, he hadn’t even thought that when he did, it might end. Not with a tragic loss, but a loss all the same. He wasn’t prepared for that. He’d only ever loved one woman; he’d thought he could never be hurt ever again.
He was wrong.