Chapter 39.

Christmas, and Anna still hadn’t picked up the phone to call Jess, despite every night wishing she were there.

Anna felt her absence as she slipped into bed, cold between the duvet and sheet. She had slept alone for years but after a taste of company her longing for human touch flooded back and her bed seemed all the more empty. No comfort of someone lying beside her. No intermittent shuffle and gentle movement. No quiet rhythmic breathing of someone asleep. The silence. The lack of her. And Anna hated it.

She heard news of the play on the radio. Deborah’s voice in an interview caught her ear and she recognised the director’s understated admiration for Jess as she talked about the recent performances and reception of the play. Anna tentatively read a review in The Guardian which raved about Jess's performance – a revelation, such impressive range, a layered performance. Anna’s heart tumbled about, elated for Jess, but also with trepidation. This was about Jessica, who she didn’t know.

Jess hadn’t called but Anna could imagine why – her hectic schedule, travel to other obligations – but most of all because it was Anna who should call. Jess had apologised and Anna had walked out. It was up to her to walk back again.

She wondered where Jess was and pictured her each night at the theatre for the evening performance, at the same time resisting the temptation to search the gossip columns which would have told her every other detail.

December flew by and it gnawed at Anna that Jess's run at the theatre would be coming to an end and with it Anna’s chance to see her. She could have called round at the theatre and asked for Jess, but every time Anna feared who she would find and it risked further humiliation. What if Jessica Lambert wouldn’t see her or met her with disinterest? It was an unbearable prospect.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Anna readied herself for a challenge to put Jess from her mind – a train journey home to Edinburgh by herself. A Tube ride, a walk to the station, a frantic squeeze between passengers loaded with suitcases for the holiday and a frazzled but elated Anna found herself on a train speeding smoothly through countryside with a scrap of an old woman next to her for company. She must have smiled the entire way, relieved she hadn’t fallen into old ways and that she was continuing to strike out. She was mesmerised by the continual new view outside. She stared at the unfolding bleak and beautiful countryside of Northumberland and tried to ignore the sense of leaving Jess in London for her final performance and Anna’s chances slipping away.

With a lift from her sister Celeste from the station, the perfection of her parents’ Georgian home in Edinburgh welcomed her – an airy three-storey sandstone townhouse with all its classic features highlighted in tasteful heritage colours.

The front room was a blaze of traditional Christmas, her mother’s insistence for decades. The cast-iron fireplace was decorated with holly. Large candles glowed on the mantelpiece, a glimmer of genuine warmth in the room. Anna sat in one of the sofas by the fireplace and reached out for the Christmas tree, always displayed to full advantage in the large window.

“To cheer everyone as they pass by in the street,” she could hear her mother say from when Anna was a girl. As a woman she’d begun to suspect it was more her mother showing off.

Nordmann fir, Anna guessed from the flat needles she stroked. They usually chose one of those. She reached for a large red bow and let the sleek texture of silk run between her fingers. She tapped a bauble with the tip of her fingernail. It rang quietly and swung with the heaviness of one of her mother’s old glass ornaments.

“Be careful, darling,” her mother’s voice came into the room accompanied by clipped footsteps. “Those baubles are considered antique now.”

Her mother’s comment was off hand, as if dismissing a child. It needled.

“Hello, Mother,” Anna said, not letting her irritation ripple at her surface. There was little point in taking offence, considering the likely onslaught of comments to come.

Her mother kissed the top of her head and sat beside her. “I’ve had Harry put your bags in your room. How was your trip? How did you cope?”

There was nothing that took the shine off a success like her mother’s complicated interest.

“It was a beautiful journey,” Anna said honestly but having to force levity in the shadow of her mother. “It was refreshing to have a change of view.”

“Good for you,” her mother said with a tight smile. “I told Celeste not to bother herself getting you from the station. I knew you’d manage perfectly well.”

“It was much appreciated,” Anna said. “I don’t get much of a chance to speak to her alone.”

“Indeed, she’s far too busy with the children, which is why I told her not to bother.”

“How thoughtful,” Anna said, grinding her teeth a little. “In any case, I was quite tired,” actually she’d been exhausted, “by the end of the journey so I was very grateful.”

“Oh, what a shame,” her mother said, with exaggerated concern. She stroked her fingernails through Anna’s hair. “Why didn’t you wait a day, like I said in the first place? You could have come up with Sebastian and Helen. There's plenty of room in that SUV thing that they have.”

Anna blinked at the contrary conversation. She could tie her mind in knots trying to follow her mother’s logic and why a lift from her brother Sebastian at her mother’s suggestion was acceptable but Celeste volunteering to fetch Anna from the local station was not.

Anna was about to comment on the matter, in not too friendly a way, when her mood was improved by two small children barrelling into the room. Her niece and nephew, four and five years old, pushed past their grandmother and leapt onto Anna’s knee accompanied by a drawn out squeal of “Auntieeeeee”. Their heavy landing was a reminder of how much bigger they were since she’d last seen them in London. She was pushed back in her seat and two warm squirming children covered her with flailing arms and cuddles. They were at an age where a few months absence no longer erased her impression in their memories and they showed no shyness at her arrival.

“Careful you two,” Anna’s mother snapped. “Celeste!” she called. “For god’s sake control these two.”

Anna’s sister didn’t appear and Anna grinned naughtily while her mother tried to wrestle the children from her knee.

“Auntie Anna,” her niece Katie said, “come and play hide and seek. Come and find us.”

Anna’s mother tutted. “I thought I told Celeste to explain that Auntie Anna will be exhausted from her journey. She can’t come and play hide and seek.”

“Awww,” Katie complained.

Anna had spent hours with them last time, the kids giving her clues of their hiding places with coughs and giggles while Anna crawled around pretending to be a wolf, commentating as she went at the impossibility of finding them.

“It’s OK,” Anna said. “I can play.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve only just arrived.”

Anna suppressed the annoyance that began to simmer inside. She had a lower reserve of patience than usual.

“Come on you two. Let’s not crowd Auntie Anna,” her mother chided and she hauled the lovely bundles away from her. The two young children scampered away laughing and Anna had the strong urge to do the same.

“Now,” her mother said. “Would you like a cup of tea? Let’s get you refreshed. I’ve invited a few people over early evening for a little get together.”

Anna was starting to get whiplash from her mother’s contrariness. Too tired to play with the kids but not so tired as to endure a surprise party.

“Oh, don’t worry darling,” her mother said, letting her hand rest icily on her knee. “Just a few people for a last get together before Christmas. The McAdams next door, the partners from your father’s practice, my friends from the club, Cameron–”

“Mum!” Anna stood up. The reaction had been instant and she couldn’t have fought it.

“Whatever’s the matter?”

“Stop pushing Cameron on me.”

“He’s a family friend darling.” Her mother looked affronted and feigned innocence. “He’s good company. I don’t know why you can object. I,” she emphasised the word, “wanted to invite him.”

That was about as likely as her mother shopping in Aldi.

The last thing Anna wanted was her mother pushing a suitor on her. It was as if the walls were closing in already, the prison taking shape around her and her confidence steadily eroding. She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to see Cameron.”

“But they’ll be here in a couple of hours.”

Anna was lost for words. “I’m going to my room,” she said at last and she hated how childish that sounded.

She tried to convince herself that every stamp up the steps was to make sure of her footing, but she could feel the heat of anger in her cheeks. A few minutes. She’d been there a few minutes and she’d already walked out on her mother. This was imploding at record pace.

Her old room was first at the top of the curving stairs and she was grateful to find the glowing white room quiet. She shut the door, slumped onto the single bed and closed her eyes. She was trapped at her parents’ for the whole of Christmas and this was only the start of a hectic few days and her confidence was already fracturing.

She wished she was home in her flat with Penny and Bibs and she realised, more and more, with Jess. Her anger at their situation had burned out and now that it had time to subside all that was left was a glowing yearning for Jess's company. What a contrast it was, full of good will and accommodation. It was soothing just to think about it.

There was a light knock the door, too tentative for her mother.

“What is it?” Anna called out.

“Can I come in?” It was her sister Celeste.

“Yes, of course,” Anna said. Although her sister was brusque at times it was more due to fatigue and looking after young children rather than like her mother’s ingrained hostility.

Her sister poked her head round the door, long blonde hair hanging down. “You OK?” she said gently.

“I’m….” Anna paused, “simmering,” was the best she could manage.

Celeste came in, a sympathetic smile on her face, and sat beside her on the bed. She picked up Anna’s hand and held it. It was funny being comforted by her younger sister. Celeste was a mother of two and responsible for the lives of young things, but it was difficult to shake the sense that Anna should be looking out for her.

Her sister squeezed her hand. “I hope you brought a yoga mat to meditate and unwind. You look like you could do with a few breathing exercises.”

“It’s certainly going to take more than downward dog to get through this bitch of a day.”

Her sister laughed. “Anna!”

“Sorry.”

“I can hear Penny in that.”

“I was just thinking of her. Oh,” Anna tutted. “I’m sorry. She always manages to needle her way in.” Anna didn’t need to clarify who she meant.

Anna could feel herself unravelling. Families, her mother in particular, did that – tearing away at the person you’d become until they dug down to the one they knew. But not everybody wanted to be that person anymore.

“She still calls this ‘Anna’s room’ you know,” Celeste said.

“I’m sure she calls your and Sebastian’s rooms by your names too.”

“No. They’re guest rooms. This is yours in her mind.”

It surprised Anna. Her old room, light and airy with minimal tasteful furniture, had been stripped of any traces of her long ago in a fit of her mother’s fury when Anna insisted on going to drama school in London.

“You were always the favourite,” Celeste said, her tone full of resignation more than jealousy.

“Me?!”

Celeste nodded.

“No, I was the disappointment.” Anna laughed though not with pleasure. “I was the queer. The actor. I refused to plan for 2.4 kids from the age of five. I’m pretty sure I’m last on the list, especially with both you and Sebastian having families.”

“We were never going to match up.”

“Why?” Anna laughed in disbelief.

“Because you are her.”

“What?”

“You were the only one as beautiful and elegant and gifted. None of us came close.” And the disappointment that hung on Celeste’s face was enough to convince Anna of her truthfulness.

“But…”

“We all took after Dad,” Celeste smiled, her eyes mourning. “And although we always said the right words, wanted the right things, Sebastian too, she was never as proud. She never looked at us with that awe and intoxicated love and pride that she did with you.”

Anna didn’t know what to say. It was almost perverse but rang horribly true.

“She was craving what she couldn’t have,” Anna said, a bitter taste in her mouth. “What she couldn’t control when it disagreed with her.”

“Perhaps,” Celeste said, though it didn’t lift her tone. “She used to come and sit in here when you were gone.”

“Really? But she had the room stripped bare as soon as I left.”

Her sister shrugged. “She regretted it, I think. I saw her salvage a strip of your wallpaper from the skip after the decorators had cleared the room.”

“I didn’t know that,” Anna said. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Letting mother get under my skin and for any time you felt undervalued.”

Celeste squeezed her hand. “Party’s at seven,” she said, getting up. “We’re doing black tie.”

“Mother’s idea.”

“Who else.” Celeste rolled her eyes. “Do you need a hand? Mum said you might need to borrow some clothes.”

“No,” Anna said sharply. Then when she realised her anger was at her mother not her sister’s offer, she softened it to, “No, thank you.”

The woman had been mothering Anna more these last years, goading her like she was a teen, then wanting to coddle her one minute and wishing her gone the next with crushing disapproval. Her mother seemed to go out of her way to make Anna’s life awkward, the bits she disapproved of anyway. Anna wondered if her mother was aware of it. Was it the result of scheming or so innate she was oblivious?

“She will have to take me as I am,” Anna said at last, sending an apologetic glance which her sister received with knowing.

Celeste closed the door quietly and Anna was left in the small room alone, the setting sun turning the walls golden. The day was running out. The last matinee performance would be over at the theatre in London before closing for Christmas. She thought of Penny packed up with Bibs, bickering in the car with Lana on their way for the holidays and, she couldn’t avoid it, Jess. She would be leaving the theatre soon. For where? What were her plans? Anna couldn’t picture her anymore. She could be moving to another country for a film, a tour for publicity, any number of things and places.

Anna snatched up her phone from the bed and swiped to Jess's number. It lit up and Anna watched the circle of red as it dialled the number. She put her ear to the phone and waited.

She didn’t know what she was going to say, it struck her suddenly. Not a clue. She should apologise. She didn’t know how. She should say that she was still hurt and that it would take time, so please don’t go without seeing her.

The phone beeped in Anna’s ear and an automated voice message began in monotone, “The number you have called is no longer in service.”

Anna stared, frozen with the phone at her ear. “Oh,” she said out loud, then flushed embarrassed that she’d tried calling.

She dropped the phone in her lap.

So Jess's number had changed. Anna’s hadn’t though and neither had her address. Jess had ample opportunity to keep in touch and send her a new number.

“OK,” Anna said quietly.

So Anna wasn’t on Jess's list any more.

She tapped and swiped to her contacts list, hesitated with her finger over Jess's entry, then deleted it from her phone.

She remained sitting on the bed.