Page 41 of The Christmas Letter

‘I remember. The stylish one.’

Jack grinned. ‘Right. God, he’ll love that, when I tell him. Anyway, he loves it – and he’s good at it.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘No, I am.’ It didn’t sound boastful, just honest. ‘It’s just . . . I don’t know. It’s not exactly fulfilling.’

They both came to a stop simultaneously in the middle of the final room, in front of a bronze sculpture. It was made up of many partial faces, all turned away from one another. And in the centre, one full face, which none of the others seemed to notice. It was eerily beautiful, and Holly felt something swell in her throat. Because she could imagine being that face in the middle – could feel the loneliness there. She supposed that was the point – everyone had felt like that, at one point or another, whether it was a fleeting moment or something more.

‘It makes me feel sad, somehow,’ Jack murmured.

‘I know,’ Holly said simply.

Jack took his hand out of his pocket and lifted it towards the bronze face, then dropped it to his side, the edge of it brushing past Holly’s own hand and settling so that their little fingers rested together. It was barely even a touch, just the smallest point of contact – but Holly felt all her concentration flood there.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, neither of them moving, staring at the sculpture, their little fingers a small point of connection between them. After a time, Jack cleared his throat. ‘Should we . . .?’

‘Yeah,’ Holly said, and she drew her hand away.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard a soft whoosh of breath from Jack as she turned and led the way out of the gallery.

They had time to kill before heading to the second gallery, so Jack suggested Hyde Park, which, Holly had to admit, was pretty gorgeous on this kind of crisp, clear day. She’d never spent much time here while she lived in London, and now she was wondering why. They were walking under a tunnel of trees, their branches bare, but somehow hopeful, as if they knew it wouldn’t be long before they’d come to life again. The longer they’d walked around the park, dodging endless runners and dog-walkers, the looser Jack’s stride had become, and the more relaxed his posture seemed.

They took a right at the end of the path, and Jack looked around at the grass and the lake that stretched beyond it. ‘It’s just so impressive, the design of this place,’ he said, his voice sounding satisfied, like he himself had something to be proud of. ‘It’s something people take for granted,’ he continued. ‘But the Serpentine – the lake, I mean – it’s actually one of the first artificial lakes that was designed to look natural.’

Holly’s phone buzzed and she fished it out of her bag. Her stomach lurched when she saw who it was.

Does your silence mean that you hate the galleries, or that you’re having too good a time to update me on your thoughts?

‘And the trees . . .’ Jack continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil. ‘Everything has been thought out so it works all year round.’

Holly made a non-committal noise as she slipped her phone back into her bag. And she had a flash, then, of Emma, telling her that she used to love gardening – that she’d done it with her grandson. She glanced at Jack, opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. Instead, she latched on to something up ahead – an ice-cream van. She nodded towards it, sped up.

‘Are you mental?’ Jack asked, though he lengthened his stride to keep up with her. ‘It’s too cold for ice cream.’

‘It’s never too cold for ice cream.’

‘No one gets ice cream in March.’

‘Then why is the van here, hmm?’

Apparently stumped by that, Jack didn’t say anything as Holly ordered two cones, then handed one to him. He looked at it for a long moment, a wisp of his dark messy curls falling over one eye.

‘Come on,’ she said, fighting to keep her face straight. ‘Live on the wild side.’

He muttered something inaudible, then licked his ice cream.

They headed for the edge of the lake, eating their cones as they walked, coming to a stop when they arrived there, a peaceful quiet settling between them.

That was, until a brisk breeze curled around Holly’s neck, making her shiver. ‘Jesus, it’s freezing,’ she muttered, doing a little jump up and down and making Jack laugh.

‘That’s because you had the ice cream, oh wild one.’

She made a face at the nickname, then continued her little hop, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt him come up behind her, felt her body go motionless. He reached out, put his hands on her arms, and started to rub them up and down over her coat. ‘Better?’ he asked, a smile in his voice.

‘Hmm.’ But even though she made the noise disapproving, she couldn’t stop the pinpricks of heat sparking on her skin as his touch travelled through the layers of clothing. Couldn’t stop herself from leaning back into that touch. Into him. She felt his hands slow, more of a caress now. And even knowing that it was a bad idea, she couldn’t stop herself from turning to look at him.

His hands stayed on her arms as she lifted her gaze to his, and she felt his fingers tighten, digging into her skin. His gaze dropped to her mouth in a way that was so focused it made her breath catch. He moved his hands up her arms and down her back, where they rested, his fingers curling there, bringing her closer. The rest of the world dropped away, the park becoming blurry, the sounds of toddlers crying and people chattering dropping into nothingness, so that all she could hear was the two of them breathing.