A slender tree stood in the corner, wrapped in pink fairy lights, and a little purple bonsai tree sat alight on the worktop. More pink lights outlined the French doors, and a Christmas table decoration sat in the middle of the place settings.
“Did you make that, Mum?” I gestured to the tasteful holly, pinecone, and tinsel arrangement, knowing full well that she had. “It’s lovely.”
She beamed at me. “Thank you. And yes, I did, you know I like to have something handmade around the house.”
I did. And sometimes I’d helped her make them. I felt a pang of guilt that I’d not done anything like that this year.
As though sensing my thoughts, she ushered us to the table. “You boys sit down; food’s almost ready.”
“Do you want a hand with anything?” Finn said, ever the gentleman.
My mum waved him away with her spoon. “No, but thank you for offering.”
I kicked him under the table. “Stop it, you’re making me look bad.”
He shrugged a shoulder, smirking at me. “It’s not my fault you’ve got no manners.”
Before I could dispute that, my mum’s laughter interrupted. “I banned Jasper from the kitchen the year he managed to burn my best roasting pan. Which was no easy feat, let me tell you.” She smiled at me, then added with a wink, “I do let him clean up afterwards though.”
“Yeah.” I grumbled. “I’m allowed to do that bit.”
I got up to get Finn and I drinks, but it hadn’t escaped me that we were missing someone. “So, um... where’s Clive?” I guessed it was too much to hope he wouldn’t be here.
I immediately felt bad.
That wasn’t the attitude I needed to have.
“He’s just walked down to the shop for something I forgot.” She turned to face me, giving me a look that seemed to pierce right into my thoughts. I wondered if it was obvious how apprehensive I was about this meal. She sighed and set down her spoon.
I’ll take that as a yes then.
Putting her hands on my shoulders, she met my gaze. “Jasper,” she began. “I wanted this dinner to be a chance for us all to start again, on the right foot this time. But...” She gave my shoulders a squeeze, and her expression softened. “You’re my son, and I love you. I don’t want to force you into something you’re not ready for. If you want to do this another time, maybe in the new year—”
“No.” God, I felt like such a tool. But also I didn’t think I could love her more. “It’s fine, Mum, really. I want to be here.”
“Really?” Her eyes glistened with the threat of tears and I quickly pulled her into a hug.
“Of course,” I whispered, holding her tight. “Besides, Finn would kill me if I dragged him away from a home-cooked meal.”
“I would too.” Finn joined in, lightening the mood. “Especially one that smells so good.”
Clive chose that moment to walk in the back door, and if he found it odd that I was hugging my mum, he didn’t so much as flinch. “Here you go.” He set a pot of English mustard on the table, then turned to me, holding out his hand. “Good to see you, Jasper.”
Swallowing down my nerves, I shook his hand and smiled. “You too.”
Should I apologise for being a twat or—
“You show Finn the tree yet?” Clive asked, leaning back against the worktop. He turned to Finn. “She’s a beauty.” He then mouthed conspiratorially, “Andhuge.”
I laughed, grateful for his olive branch. “Nah, she won’t let us go look until it’s dark enough for the lights to look their best.”
I glanced over to see my mum beaming at us, her eyes once again glassy with tears.
“Right,” Clive said clapping his hands. “Shall we eat?” He gave my mum a quick hug, then the two of them began to serve up the best Sunday lunch I’d had in ages. My mum’s cooking was as good as ever, but this time I let myself enjoy the company around me rather than refusing to let myself relax.
We weren’t all the way there yet, but we were on our way.
I pushed back my plate after scraping the last of the apple pie off it and patting my belly. “That was lovely. Thanks, Mum.”
