Page 36 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

‘It must so difficult. Every year, every occasion … birthdays, Christmas,’ Lucy prompted gently.

‘Yeah,’ Jack nodded, his eyes still a little misty. He took a gulp of wine.

Lucy didn’t want to probe too soon, too far. For all his bravado, and cocktail barman antics, Jack was a deep soul. If he wanted to talk about losing his brother, it needed to be in his own time. There was still so much to iron out between the two of them, of course there was. But all she needed to do right now was to support him.

Lucy had hit the nail on the head, Jack reflected. Today had been a struggle. Birthdays, Christmas, family occasions, that’s when memories and feelings resurfaced like shards of glass from an old wound. It wasn’t that you ever forgot; not one day went by when he didn’t think of his brother in some way, a fleeting glimpse of his face, an echo of his laugh, a saying he might have used, a kick of a football, an unexpected waft of the Lynx Africa body spray Daniel used to pile on as a teenager – especially when Dan’s crush for Lily Douglas at Middle School hit hard – but these anniversary days, they were like little daggers, ready to give you a stinging prod.

He and Lucy were now in the lounge, having moved from the kitchen to seek out the comfy sofa. The red wine was slipping down nicely and it was beginning to loosen his tongue. ‘We went up to the dune today,’ Jack started, his voice soft, bruised. ‘The one where we scattered his ashes …’ He’d taken Lucy there several weeks ago, showed her the place.

Lucy looked up and held his gaze with the tenderest of smiles.

‘Me, Mum and Dad. Mum took a flask and some cake she’d made specially, and we just sat for a while up at the top, chatting. Remembering stuff, you know …’

‘Oh …’ Lucy placed her hand tenderly over his, and stayed quiet, leaving him the space to talk. They were shoulder to shoulder, with Daisy wedged snoring in the slim gap between them.

‘He’d have been thirty-one today.’

So young. Just a year older than Lucy, and two older than Jack.

Jack took a slow breath, then sighed, ‘Didn’t even get to see his twenty-first.’

Dachshund Daisy then reached a snoozy paw out to touch his hand. It was probably accidental, but it looked like she was supporting him too, bless. Lucy couldn’t help but give a sad smile.

‘I had a message today,’ he continued, ‘from Emily, his old girlfriend. She keeps in touch now and again … said she was thinking of us all and sending love. And then, I foolishly looked up her page – we’re friends on Facebook – and there she was, all smiley-faced with her husband and their three-year-old son … and shit, it just floored me …

‘Daniel never got to have that. To get married. Be a dad. Will never get to have that. It’s such a bastard. And I know I can’t change anything, and I know it’s been a long time … but it still hurts, Luce. It still bloody well hurts.’

‘Of course it will, my love. It’s just so unfair.’ Lucy couldn’t begin to imagine losing Olly that young, for him never to have met Alice, or have had little Freddie.

‘Hah, death doesn’t do fair,’ Jack’s tone was steely, full of hurt. ‘It’s arbitrary … some bolt out of the blue when you’re twenty, some old guy of ninety-nine withering slowly away. Who knows why or when …? Probably just as well …

‘You do learn to carry on, you have to, there’s not a lot of choice,’ he continued, ‘but it’s tough sometimes. Catches up on you, you know.’ He paused.

‘I can’t pretend to know exactly how you feel. What that grief must be like for someone so young, so close … But I know it must be really tough.’ Lucy squeezed his hand.

Jack saw the Christmas tree there, twinkling away before them. It had been so nice that afternoon putting the tree up together, until he’d snapped and then clammed right up.

‘I’m sorry, Luce, about closing down on you … about the parent thing. Sat there on Dan’s dune with Mum and Dad today, well it made me think. I don’t want you to feel shut out. But I’ve got to be honest with you, it’s just too soon … for me. You seeing them, meeting up, playing happy families. It’s still early days, Luce.’ He really didn’t want to be hurting her, dashing her dreams, but he had to be honest. And he couldn’t change who he was overnight.

‘Yeah, okay.’ What else could Lucy say? She didn’t want to lose him by pushing him too far, too fast. She leaned her head against his chest, so he couldn’t see the unbidden tear that had trailed down her cheek.

‘That’s cool. Thank you.’

Lucy tried to gather her emotions. Tonight couldn’t be about her; Jack was struggling, anyone could see that, but she was left with more questions than answers about their relationship. At least he had come to her … he had been honest … but it left her wondering again … giving his heart, letting her into his life fully, would he ever be ready?

Chapter Eighteen

Jack stayed over that night. They made love; their closeness physical. Their bodies still in tune at least.

The next morning, Jack was up and made his way down to the kitchen, freshly showered, with merely a towel draped around his hips. He’d nipped out to get a couple of coffees to take back to bed for the two of them. Lucy was still up there, making the most of a rare lie-in. There was no rush this morning, no event bookings to prepare for, and the whole day ahead. Another hour in bed maybe, then a stroll on the beach, a casual bite of lunch perhaps … After all the mixed emotions of yesterday, a chilled-out day was needed.

Jack had let Daisy out for her morning pee in the back yard a few minutes ago, and she was still there sniffing about as he poured the coffees. He heard her barking excitedly, and turned his head. It was probably just a blackbird or something setting her off.

With that, the glass-partitioned back door to the cottage rattled. There was a knock at the same time as the door blasted open.

‘Coo-eee!’

And there, wrapped in a thick black woollen coat and sensible weather-proof bootees, was Nonna. A blast of chill air and a happy Dachshund came in with her. Jack felt distinctly and dangerously underdressed. His cheeks were no doubt blasting an embarrassed pink too. After all, it was more than evident that he hadn’t just arrived at the cottage himself.