Laura put the match to the coals and watched as they started to smoke, gentle plumes spinning up to the clouds. She checked her watch again – forty minutes had passed since she had pressed ‘send’ – and looked in both directions along the beach. It was deserted. Everyone was still in bed, of course, only the most excited children already up and unwrapping presents, but Laura hadn’t been able to wait for an acceptable hour to call. She’d been up half the night, fretting over and plotting this.
Urchin looked beautiful. The fairy lights she had threaded along the apex gently nudged away the early morning mist, and the plastic wreath on the door looked passable from a distance. She’d been so busy yesterday getting the final painting done, she’d only made it to Homebase last night with eleven minutes till closing time, so she hadn’t exactly had time to browse – but the balding Christmas tree made a festive statement, at least. She’d wound a red-lettered ‘Happy Sixtieth’ banner that she’d mistaken for ‘Happy Christmas’ round it in lieu of tinsel, and tea lights twinkled in every window, giving it an ever so slightly Dickensian feel. Ever so slightly.
Jack was only forty feet away when the mist revealed him, a multi-striped scarf wound four times round his neck, obscuring half his face. But it was only his eyes she needed to see.
He stopped, stunned, as he saw the beach hut glow in front of him, and Laura standing on the veranda, waiting.
Haltingly, he stumbled over the dry sand to her. ‘Laur!’ he said, stopping a foot away and marvelling at the sight of her. ‘Where have you been?’
‘A world away,’ she blinked, thinking how lovely it was to rest her eyes upon him again, her old friend. He had grown a beard during her thirteen-day absence and was visibly thinner, neither of which had been intentional, she knew. He looked so good. So real.
Jack saw the love in her eyes and embraced her, his arms the home that had given her shelter all these years.
‘Where’s Fee?’ she asked after a moment.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Did she get the message?’
He looked down at her. ‘Laur, I haven’t seen or spoken to Fee since that weekend.’
‘You . . . ?’ She looked down towards the retreating water. So then Fee had been telling the truth. She hadn’t stolen Jack; her only crime had been to choose Jack’s right to know over Laura’s right to decide – and that had been no crime at all, she knew now.
Arthur bounded up, his beloved discombobulated purple ball in his mouth. He whined ecstatically at the sight of her, shaking the surf out of his coat before falling on to his back for a tummy rub from his mistress. Laura laughed, raking him lightly with her fingers. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you drenching me, you smelly mutt.’
Jack looked up at the beach hut, the only one inhabited in the Christmas dawn. ‘Whose is this?’ he asked, one slim hand stroking the planed veranda rail admiringly.
‘Mine,’ she murmured, kneeling in the sand, watching him. ‘I’ve been doing it up as a project. It was practically falling down when I bought it.’
‘But when . . . ? I mean, how did you—’
He saw the shivering ghost at the same moment she did, as pale and wispy as the mist, hair wet and plastered to that tiny heart-shaped face, bare legs like straws in polka-dot wellies and a denim mini.
Laura had to suppress the urge to scream with joy at the pathetic sight. ‘Will you ever dress for the weather?’ she demanded with laughing eyes, striding towards her and enveloping her in a bear hug.
She felt Fee’s tiny shoulders shake beneath her, and she let her tears fall too, as another layer of warmth came to protect them and Jack encircled them both. They’d all lost more than each other through this; their separation had let the world in and there was no going back for any of them.
‘Come and have a bacon sandwich to warm you up,’ Laura said finally as Fee sniffed like a schoolboy, making Jack laugh.
They trudged up the sand on to the veranda where the picnic barbecue tray was smouldering nicely. She threw on a couple of rashers and they sizzled noisily, breaking the anxious silence. Laura watched Jack standing in the doorway, taking in the tiles, the freshly painted ceiling, the rolled-up futon . . . Fee was sitting on an upturned fire bucket, wearing Jack’s duffle coat, at Laura’s insistence, and the arms dangled down to her knees. She kept blowing into her cupped hands to distract from the fact that she wasn’t talking.
‘Here you go,’ Laura said, handing her a bap and a cup of tea in a blue-striped enamel mug. ‘Happy Christmas.’
Fee smiled, bringing her hand to her mouth, before dropping it dejectedly, and Laura knew she couldn’t eat. Not yet.
‘Fee, I’m sorry,’ Laura said, dropping down beside her and squeezing her knee. ‘I know I put you in an impossible position.’
‘No! You trusted me. You needed to think and I totally betrayed you.’
‘You were looking out for Jack. You did the right thing,’ Laura said, so calmly that it took a moment for Fee to register her words.
‘Huh?’
‘You were right to tell him. I should have as soon as I thought I was pregnant. It was never just my decision.’ She looked up at Jack. ‘And you were right, too, calling time on us. You made the decision you knew I couldn’t. You knew I could never leave you.’
Jack sighed and slid down against the wall. ‘I just couldn’t bear to see you so unhappy any more. You were so like her, it was easy for me. I truly believed I could make you love me through sheer force of will. It was stupid of me to think that just because Lily loved me, you would.’
‘It wasn’t stupid, Jack. We all wanted it to happen like that; it made us feel like we could keep her with us somehow. But she’s . . .’ Her voice faded instantly and she had to gulp down the air to bring it back. ‘She’s gone and she’s not coming back. I look in the mirror and I see her face looking back at me and I want so badly for it to be her looking back. But it never is. It’s just me, and I can’t stand it.’ She rested her cheek on her knuckle, her face turned away as tears skinned down her face in sheets. ‘I thought that if I could just stop being me and be like her instead, it would make the loss easier to bear. But I only look like her. I’m not as funny or sweet or kind. I’m not patient; I’m not tolerant or encouraging or brave or—’
‘How can you say that?’ Fee demanded furiously. ‘After what you did for Dan, how could you ever doubt your kindness or bravery? My brother died with your arms around him! The last thing he ever knew was your kindness,’ she cried.
A sob escaped her. ‘But it meant—’
Fee dropped to her knees beside her, her bap rolling, forgotten, on to the floor and straight into Arthur’s mouth. ‘Lily died alone? Yes, I know. And I’m so sorry . . . I’m so sorry for you that you didn’t get to say goodbye. But you were a victim too, Laura. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t know she was there. You were in shock. Your injuries kept you in hospital for weeks.’ She grew still. Older. ‘And it wasn’t your fault that you missed the funeral. The doctors were right not to let you out.’
Laura’s face crumpled and she wept into her hands.
‘But you know you’ve got to say goodbye to her one day,’ Fee said quietly, her voice low like a prayer.
‘My head knows I have to, but I just can’t.’ Laura shook her head vociferously.
‘There’s an old Jewish proverb I heard once: “If I am her, who will be me?”’ Fee shrugged as Laura looked at her in amazement. ‘You have to let her go and just be you again. I don’t think I’ve ever really met you.’
‘You wouldn’t like me,’ Laura sniffed.
‘Huh, you wish!’
Laura looked at her, so defiant in her loyalty. ‘I still remember your face being the first thing I saw when I came round in hospital.’
‘Poor you!’ Fee said, trying to joke.
‘You wouldn’t leave me.’
‘You didn’t leave Dan,’ Fee said, her fragile smile sliding off her face like a gently melting candle. ‘We’re connected for ever, Laur. I’m the baby sister you never wanted and I’ll never not be your friend. But you only followed me here because you couldn’t bear to go back to everything that had made you happy. And, Jack,’ she said, turning to look at him, ‘you followed Laura here because you were chasing the face of the girl who made you happy. We’ve all been clinging on to each other as though it will bring Lily and Dan back, but it won’t. It may have helped us in the beginning, but now it’s only hurting us and we all have to move on, even if . . . even if that means moving apart.’
Silence fell like a shadow upon them and Laura felt her sense of separation solidify. She had sensed it in Verbier, but now, hearing it from her scatty, wise friend, she knew it was true, and it felt like absolution.
She looked at Fee and Jack – her family – standing at opposite ends of the veranda, their eyes down, cloaked in feelings that they didn’t dare to acknowledge, much less explore. She knew that it had to come from her. She had to give them her blessing before they even knew they wanted it.
Laura managed a laugh, her eyes falling on Arthur pulling on a piece of rind. ‘Well, so much for breakfast.’
‘It’s only just gone six; there’s plenty of time,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been up so early on Christmas Day before. Not even when I was seven and asked for my first Scalextric.’
‘What can I say? I felt like a chat,’ she smiled, shrugging lightly. ‘I knew I couldn’t go without fixing things between us.’
‘Go? Go where?’ Jack asked.
‘I’m flying to Peru tomorrow with Shelterbox. I’m going over as part of the response team to help the victims of the mudslide.’
‘Peru? You mean like Paddington Bear Peru?’ Fee asked.
Laura couldn’t help but smile. Darling Fee. ‘Exactly.’
‘But for how long?’
‘For as long as they need me. A few weeks to begin with, maybe longer later on in the year.’
‘But what about the business?’ Fee asked, her eyes getting bigger and more anxious by the moment.
‘Well, I rather hoped you’d take care of that for me while I’m away. I’ve managed to get in to London Fashion Week, so I’m going to need you on the case to sort out all the admin.’
‘Fashion Week? Since when?’
Laura sighed. How was she ever going to explain what had gone on between her, Cat and Rob? ‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over the turkey.’
‘When I said . . . when I said we all had to move on, I didn’t mean like right away,’ Fee objected tremulously.
‘But you were bang on, as usual, Fee. It’s for the best, and I know you two will make each other happy. I’m sorry I was so selfish. I closed my eyes to the obvious for so long because I was scared of being completely alone. I thought – if you’ve got each other, who’s got me?’
Both Jack and Fee jumped as if they’d been burned.
‘We’re not together, Laur,’ Jack protested.
‘I know. But you should be. You’re perfect for each other. Think about it – you both love brown sauce on your salmon and drinking milk with tea in it. You’re both addicted to X Factor and Most Haunted, and neither one of you seems to understand why acrylic is objectionable. Plus with Jack being such a neat freak and you such a slob, Fee, there’s a definite upside for you. And I imagine, Jack, that Fee’s probably the only female in the whole of East Anglia who’s over ten but has hips narrower than yours.’ She smiled at them both. ‘And last but not least, you laugh like two hyperventilating hyenas together, and you’re best friends who are so much happier together than apart.’
Fee, who was blushing furiously, carried on staring at the floor. Jack looked at Laura for a moment – a look of understanding passing between them – before he looked across at Fee. Laura could see from the change in his facial muscle tone that she’d been right.
‘I’d have to agree with you, Laur,’ he said quietly, prompting Fee to look up in amazement.
An electric flash zipped between them, but neither one moved.
‘Please . . .’ Laura nodded, knowing what was going to happen. She held her breath as Jack got up to kiss Fee lightly but tenderly, the kind of kiss that precedes hungry passion and is the first of thousands. It was so different to the parched kisses Laura had shared with him, where each one was a cork that kept their mutual grief stoppered.
They both looked over at her apprehensively.
‘Yes, well, maybe it’s slightly weird, but I’ll get used to it,’ Laura laughed, scratching her ear, embarrassed. ‘By the way, I’ve got some pressies for you both,’ she said, leading them into the hut. She handed Fee an enormous soft silver parcel that looked like the foil-wrapped Christmas turkey.
‘Oh, Laur!’ Fee gasped delightedly as she pulled out the ‘rock princess’ jacket. Laura had grabbed it off the chair on the way out from Kitty’s – no way was it staying with Cat, who was clearly going to give it to her cleaner. And besides, it had been Fee she’d wanted to buy it for all along. It had been made for her.
‘And for you, Jack.’ She handed over an envelope.
He pulled out a key from inside, puzzled. It wasn’t the cottage key.
‘Urchin is yours. I bought her for you. I figured it was one dream I could make come true for you.’
Jack’s face was a gift. ‘It’s the most perfect present anyone has ever given me,’ he said, hugging her to him like a big brother.
‘Yuh, well – you may not say that when you hear the catch.’
‘The catch?’
‘Okay, the condition.’
‘The condition?’ he echoed nervously.
‘It applies to you both.’
Now it was Fee’s turn to look nervous.
Laura walked to the pegs on the far wall and held up two of the three wetsuits. ‘You’ve got to put on these.’
‘Now?’
‘I told you not to thank me too soon.’
Jack looked out at the mineral green-grey sea. ‘Please don’t be saying what I think you’re saying.’
Laura wrinkled her nose. ‘I did say you might not like the real me,’ she said, pulling her jumper over her head and indicating that they should follow suit. ‘The first thing you need to know is that I’m competitive. Really damned take-your-eyebrows-off competitive.’ She pulled off her boots and socks. ‘The next is that I absolutely hate X Factor and apple turnovers.’ She unzipped her jeans and started pulling on the wetsuit. ‘And finally, I’m mad. Completely certifiably insane and have never yet turned down a bet or a dare.’ She swished her hair out of the way and pulled up the back zip by the tape.
‘And that’s what this is?’ Fee wobbled as she and Jack climbed into theirs. ‘A dare?’
Laura stopped and thought for a moment. ‘No!’ she pooh-poohed. ‘A Christmas-morning swim? This is just our new tradition.’
And with her arms outstretched, Arthur, Jack and Fee at her side, she ran laughing and screaming towards the perishing-cold water.