Page 108 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
‘Oh yes, it’s lovely here. Though I must admit, it’s a bit odd wandering about in T-shirts in December. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without one of my big, woolly jumpers on.’
‘Oh, Mum. I love you.’ The words slipped out automatically. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told either of my parents I loved them.
‘Gosh. Well, we love you very much, too. We wanted to call you today instead of tomorrow as Sandra’s taking us to some swanky place for Christmas lunch and your dad warned me I won’t have any Internet signal for most of the day, whatever that means.’
I heard the background sound of a toilet flush, followed by Dad’s muffled voice: ‘Like I keep telling you, love, it’s a different mobile telephone system in America! You’ll need a Wi-Fi connection to use your phone!’
‘Did you hear your father, Amelia?’
‘Yes, I heard.’
I imagined them perched on the end of a giant bed together.
‘Put her on speakerphone!’ Dad sounded happy. They both did.
‘You do it, Bob!’
I heard some rustling noises and then Dad’s voice: ‘Right then, here we both are, Amelia!’
‘Hey, Dad! Happy early Christmas!’
‘And to you, kiddo.’
Should I tell them about Tom? Not quite yet. But the news aboutThe Helix?
My instincts were telling me to say nothing, to shield them from the worry, but I couldn’t risk them finding out through a third party.
‘Hey, Mum and Dad, don’t panic, but just so you know, you might see some news doing the rounds aboutThe Helix.’
‘What kind of news, Amelia?’ I could hear Mum’s frown in her voice.
‘That they’re closing down the UK office…’
‘Oh no! But what does this mean for…’
‘Please, let me finish. Absolutely nothing is set in stone in terms of my job, but even if the worst happens, I’m kind of… excited for the first time in ages. I think it’s time for a bit of a fresh start.’
‘If you say so, Amelia. You promise you’re not putting on one of your brave faces?’
Huh, she knew about my ‘brave faces’?
‘I promise. In fact, I think the hope about the future I’m feeling right now is the bravest thing I’ve done in years.’
‘That’s my girl,’ said Dad.
Mum continued, ‘Yes, we’re so proud of you, Amelia. You’ll get through this, sweetheart. You’ve gotten through worse.’
‘We all have,’ I said.
There was no response to that, and as she swiftly changed the subject and they told me more about their trip and their plans for tomorrow, I knew there likely never would be. Anything Josh and I would work to understand and mend over the coming weeks, months and years would be our journey, and our journey alone. This knowledge made me sad. But I had to make peace with the idea that sorrow and joy can – and must – co-exist if any of us stand a chance of finding happiness and hope in among the chaos and heartache of life.
After hanging up, I tipped a canvas bag upside down over the bed, allowing my small collection of presents to tumble out. I figured I might as well open them now, since each of them carried a shit-ton of emotional weight that I wasn’t quite ready for Tom and his mum to witness tomorrow. My parents had given me a beautiful, personalised notebook and pen. I looked forward to discovering what creative avenues these fresh pages would open up, vowing not to fill them with lists for once.
Then there was a present from Elle, which she’d given to me on our last day in the office. It was my PE effort award – but it’d had a makeover. The engraved label on the base of the cup no longer read:PE Effort, Year 9 Girl. Instead, it said:Best sister from another mister, forever.
Sister.
Over the years, Elle had placed so much pressure and expectation on our friendship that, for her, it had mutated into something completely different and borderline unhealthy. But the love and care with which I’d cradled her a couple of days ago was real. I knew I wanted to be a part of Elle’s life – and Frannie’s life – forever, regardless of what continent they happened to be living on, but ‘forever’ didn’t have to mean ‘exclusively’. I’d been her safety net ever since she’d moved next door, but safety nets need to be anchored to something, and I’d been drifting from the moment Livvie had died.
