Page 94 of Last Christmas in London

‘I know I didn’t give birth to you,’ she said gently, as if reading my thoughts – like a mother does, ‘and your mum will always be your mum. Nothing changes that.’ She paused, taking a breath, I recognised was to steady her emotions which – like mine – were swimming with love. ‘I want you to remember that loving you didn’t come with an expiry date.’

A lump hardened in my throat, but surprisingly it wasn’t painful. It was forming to stop me from making an excuse or trying to change the subject.

I needed to hear this, and Denise needed to share it. Because loving me had been plain to see, but I had been blind to it while I figured out who I was without a biological mother. Too afraid to lose someone that ever meant that much to me again.

‘I’ve been your mum for a long time now,’ Denise added, sniffing loudly as she carried on with her business, as if not wanting to overwhelm me. ‘I’m not planning on stopping.’

I didn’t trust myself to speak, not yet, so I nodded instead. Hovering by her as the intensity of her love washed over me. Reminding me that it had been there all along.

‘Besides,’ she laughed, ‘Bob and I’d like the company again – me especially. All this football and snooker and cricket, the TV is always on sports. I need a conversation every now and then.’ She was waffling now, but I crept up behind her and swung my arms around her waist warmly, as she patted my head and chuckled with relief.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered, kissing her cheek.

Denise turned and enveloped me in a full body hug. ‘Oh, you always gave the best hugs.’

We laughed together, safe in each other’s arms, as I felt the full feeling of being home.

She would never be Mum, but she’d always be Denise. And that meant the world to me.

But when Denise is on a roll, she doesn’t stop.

‘Just because this is the first job offer, that doesn’t mean it will be the last,’ she continued, releasing me but only enough so that she could push my hair behind my ears. ‘Far from it. I bet you could speak to Pim about it. I know you’re hanging up your boots with her, but surely she must have some contacts in the UK?’

I had never wanted to ask Pim. It felt too presumptuous a question, even before I handed in my notice, but especially now, given how I had handed in my notice a few weeks ago. But maybe I was judging her relevance a little too harshly, perhaps she would know somebody that could help me get a job in the UK? I just needed to ask and find out. What had I got to lose?

My stomach did an excitable somersault at the thought, not the kind it had been doing every time someone mentioned my new job in Toronto but a somersault that felt like freedom.

If I could stay in the UK, I could be near my family – even live with them again – helping Megan with Alfie and through her split, which I could tell she was dreading dealing with, no matter how brave a face she put on it.

I could see my favourite city all year round, not just at Christmas. I could really have a home, maybe even more than one: my home and my parents’ home.

And then there was Simon.

He was someone I’d love to get to know properly and not in the whirlwind romance sense. Someone to laugh with, argue with, kiss with – under Christmas lights and summer bunting. Someone who knew how to call me out and still stick around to see if I’ll ever change, and someone who would help me to if I asked him.

He didn’t have to be a footnote in my new start, he could be part of the new start. If he wanted to be.

And my desire for that was as intoxicating as the Christmas sherry. ‘Now,’ Denise said suddenly, swiftly taking the two bowls of trifle from my hands and heading back to the dining room. ‘Come on. It’s Christmas. No more shop talk!’ She entered the dining room with a dramatic bow. ‘Trifle à la Bob!’ she declared as she entered, and I took the brief reprieve away from my family to wipe the happy tears from my eyes.

I didn’t need reminding how much my family loved me but, boy, when they did, did it make me an emotional wreck.

I sniffed and cleared my throat, before grabbing two more bowls and heading to the dining room.

‘The King’s Speech is at 3.00 p.m.,’ Bob reminded everyone.

‘Then we have to fight over what to watch,’ Megan said. There was a lot of shouting of titles of TV shows and movies that seem to play perennially on Christmas Day.

‘Whatever happened to good ol’ Morecambe and Wise?’ Bob lamented as he stood to enter the kitchen to get the final two bowls.

‘I think they died,’ Josh replied, and we all sighed.

‘Cheery, Josh.’

‘You don’t say?’

We laughed and tucked into our desserts, all of us surreptitiously reaching to release a button on our trousers as we did so.

Chapter 29