Page 6 of The Christmas Express
‘Mum, remember it’s summer in New Zealand at the moment.’
‘But it’s Christmastime.’
‘Yes, but you don’t need to take the same jacket you took to the northern lights.’
‘Stop changing the subject. I think you should go; you’ll regret it if you don’t.’
I pick at a spot on my chin. ‘Are you just saying that because you don’t want me to be alone for Christmas?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hey! I was joking!’ Squeeeeeeze.
Mum’s voice comes on the line, louder, paying me full attention now. ‘That is partly it, though, I don’t want you to be alone. But Bryn was your best friend and you haven’t moved forward from that friendship in several years. I think you need to go. You owe it to yourself.’
I lean towards my mirror, rounding my chin to inspect my damage, and say, ‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘Make the decision and send your reply, tonight. Otherwise, you’ll think and think and think about it and start stress-picking at your skin again.’
Busted. ‘So, you think I should go to the wedding? Even if Luke is there? What if Luke goes too and it’s just me and him and Bryn, and then none of us get on, and then we come home worse? Or what if he doesn’t go? What if everyone goes except for him? Should I message him first and see what he’s doing?’
‘Luke being there is not your deciding factor, nor is it under your control. Stop dallying about, pour yourself a hot chocolate, answer with a yes and then don’t think about it any more until next month.’
We ring off and I follow her instructions, except I make peppermint tea instead, as a small hill to die on. Then, as the teabag is steeping, I open up Bryn’s email, hit reply all, and write, I’ll be there, Bryn – thank you x
I gulp my tea with shaking hands, and burn my tongue.
Chapter 4
Ember
Something strange is happening. I don’t think I’m imagining it. And I’m not talking about the lopsided and half-dead Christmas tree Tonia is trying to erect in front of my living room window in my tiny shepherd’s hut of a home. I don’t remember asking her to bring me a Christmas tree, but I have been a bit distracted these past two weeks.
The light in the room diminishes further and I glance up from my phone. ‘T, I need to be able to see out of the window still. It’s my only big source of natural light in here.’
She shoves the tree to the left a little, and it falls over. For the third time. This time it takes my surfboard with it.
‘Do you want to help me?’
‘Do you want me to help you?’ Thirty minutes ago, I tried to help and she yelled at me to sit down or bugger off.
‘No.’ She lifts the tree again and staggers it to the other side of the room, blocking the television instead.
I’m back on Bryn’s social media – I know, I know, but I haven’t deleted the apps again yet. To begin with, I just wanted to find out a little more about her wedding, and she’s been posting pretty consistently. But I’ve noticed something . . .
Tonia steps back, pulling pine needles out of her penguin jumper. ‘What are you thinking? Your forehead is all frowny and wrinkled-up.’
‘Thanks.’
‘What’s she posted now?’
I’m so transparent. I put the phone down and sigh. ‘It’s just . . . it’s the details, about her wedding, they’re very familiar.’
‘In what way? It’s themed? Something you’ve seen in a movie?’
‘No, closer to home.’ I squirm on the sofa.
But she sits down next to me and stares at me in that teacher-way of hers until I confess.
