Page 14 of The Christmas Letter

‘They don’t,’ Holly said quickly. ‘It’s just . . . I recognised the name of the café, and I thought it sounded like you might . . .’ But she trailed off, because Emma’s expression had hardened – not a scowl now, but something worse, something that made Holly stumble back a step, the letter still clutched in her hand.

‘You were not supposed to find me,’ Emma said sharply, turquoise eyes cold. ‘No one was. You were not supposed to even really exist – you were a fiction in my mind, do you hear me? An invisible stranger.’ Holly winced. ‘That’s the whole point! How could you possibly think it was ok to . . .?’ She closed her eyes, blew a breath out through her nose. ‘I want you to leave.’

‘What?’ No. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Emma was supposed to welcome her, maybe feel a little shocked initially, but ultimately be glad of her arrival. This was all wrong. ‘But I—’

‘You wanted to come here and comfort an old, sick woman, did you? Get your Good Samaritan badge? Well, I don’t want to be comforted, and I don’t need some stranger sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. So I’ll have this,’ – she snatched the letter out of Holly’s hand – ‘and you can be on your way.’

With that, she slammed the door in Holly’s face, barely a hair’s breadth away, leaving her standing alone outside. And as if the world had decided to seal her fate, at that very moment, it started to rain.

Chapter Six

Holly stared at Emma’s front door for a solid two minutes, the rain beating down on her head. But it did not reopen. Stumbling on now slightly numb legs, she headed back down the path, walking quickly in case Emma was peering out the window, checking to see if she was gone.

She would not cry. She would not cry. But why the hell had she decided to walk here? She was going to be soaked to the bone before she got back to her car.

She wrapped her arms around herself, breathing quickly as she practically ran back down the hill towards where her car was parked, outside the café. And she’d probably have a ticket by now, wouldn’t she? That would be just her luck.

She felt the cold rainwater dripping down her neck, underneath her coat. This was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be spending any time outdoors. In her head she’d arrive, be welcomed in out of the cold and given a hot chocolate almost immediately, after which she and Emma would bond over their similar situations. She thought of what Abi would say if she could see her now, breath misting out in front of her, rapidly turning into a bedraggled rat, and decided then and there that when Abi asked her how it went, she would lie.

She was looking at the pavement when she turned the corner, staring straight at her feet and not looking where she was going, so that she collided straight into someone.

‘Woah, there.’

Holly looked up and saw it was the woman from behind the counter in the café.

‘Oh, it’s you. How did it . . .?’

Holly let out a sob. She hadn’t realised it, but she had started crying – warm salty tears mixing with the rain, making her regret the makeup she’d put on this morning.

‘Come on then, my love. Let’s get you a cup of tea.’

Holly stemmed a hiccup. ‘I really should . . .’ But she trailed off. Because what else was she going to do? Get back in the car, soaking, and drive straight back to Windsor? So she followed the woman back towards the café and watched as she unlocked the doors, switched on the light.

‘Oh, you’re closed,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘It’s fine, honestly, I can just—’

‘Nonsense. I’m not letting you get back on your way until you’ve dried off a bit and had something warm. Not on Christmas Eve. Now, what did you say your name was?’

‘Holly.’

‘Holly. Well, I’m Mona, and don’t you worry about Emma. She’s all bark, and I’ll be having a word with her next time I see her, making someone cry like that.’

‘Oh, no, it’s—’

‘Sit down, love. I’ll get your tea.’

And with that Mona left Holly to perch on one of the window tables, feeling awkward in the silence of the café. She stripped off her sodden coat, cursing herself for not wearing a waterproof one. This had been a stupid idea.

Stupid, Holly.

She got her phone out to distract herself. There was a message from Daniel. Let me know when you’re ready to talk. She scowled at it, then closed the conversation and brought up Facebook – though she almost immediately regretted that. There was a notification from a family friend.

A festive catch-up with the one and only Helen Griffin!

There was a photo to go with the caption – a photo of Holly’s mum, brunette hair cut short, her smile a little tired, face perhaps a little too thin, with her dad’s arm around her. It was him who she and Lily got their red hair from – though it was thinning on top, it was definitely still hard to miss. And Lily. Wearing a slightly formal-looking smile. The three of them, a happy family – without her.

Though Holly looked, there was no sign of a baby bump underneath Lily’s black and gold dress. She kept hoping she’d see one – that somehow, if Lily got pregnant again, she would forgive Holly. Holly could still see Lily’s face, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, as she’d looked up from her hospital bed the day after the crash. Could still hear the sound of Lily screaming at her to get out, voice hoarse. Broken.

Holly knew Lily hadn’t been able to get pregnant in the first couple of years after the accident because her mum used to keep her updated. But she’d stopped asking some time ago – it only seemed to make things worse, causing a thick layer of tension down the phone line.