Page 44 of The Christmas Letter

Emma had been driving.

Emma had been driving, just like Holly had been driving. Holly had told Emma that, opened up to her. Been vulnerable. And Emma had not reciprocated. She knew how it felt better than anyone, and yet Emma had elected not to say anything. The next breath she took tasted acrid on her tongue.

But . . . Richard had died. He had died. And Lily . . . She’d miscarried, so a life had been lost, but Lily had survived. Maybe Emma couldn’t face admitting what had happened. Because this was what had torn them apart – Jack and Emma. Not the death itself, but the blame. And apparently Jack was still blaming Emma – just as Lily was still blaming Holly.

Holly’s mouth was dry, but she managed to speak. ‘You should still talk to her.’

‘Why? She’s not part of my life anymore.’ She saw Lily, like she was saying it too, as he said the words. ‘And it’s not like she’s tried that hard, either, that’s half the problem – so don’t go casting me as the bad guy here, Holly.’

She gritted her teeth. He narrowed his eyes. ‘And don’t go looking at me like a . . .’

‘Like a what?’ Holly said, a bite to her voice.

‘Like a petulant child.’

Holly opened her mouth, a snarl starting to come out, but he cut her off.

‘For God’s sake, Holly! You come here, springing this on me out of the blue after leading me on, and expect me to . . . what? Say thank you? Go and call my dear old grandmamma? You think you can fix this with one little conversation in the park? She killed my dad. Don’t you get that? My entire life changed that day.’

Holly winced.

She killed my dad.

I lost the baby. Because of you.

‘It was an—’

‘How would you know? You weren’t even there! Just . . .’ He turned away from her, scraped a hand down his jawline. ‘Just get out of my face and leave me be, ok?’

The dismissive tone, the disregard for what she was trying to do, acting like it wasn’t her place, to be talking about his grandmother when she was the one being there for her now tipped Holly over the edge. And it felt good, to be angry. Everything was happening so fast, her plans unravelling so quickly, that she couldn’t take it all in, she needed to focus on one thing, so she focused on her anger. Accidents happened. Did he not get that? Did Lily not get that? Emma had not meant to crash. Holly had not meant to slam into that car. And fine, yes, maybe that didn’t excuse it; maybe she and Emma both deserved to be outcasts. But she did not want to feel that right now. Not here.

‘Do you know what?’ Holly said, and Jack, clearly sensing a change in her tone, jerked his head back around to look at her. ‘Fuck you.’

He looked so stunned, it almost made her want to laugh – a cruel laugh, one that did not feel like her. ‘What?’

‘You heard me,’ Holly said, raising her chin. ‘If you are so incapable of even the thought of forgiveness, if you find it impossible to even try to consider another point of view after all these years, then fuck it. Maybe she’s better off without you after all.’

And with that, she spun on her heel, narrowly avoiding a nearby jogger, and only just catching herself before she face-planted on the path. She didn’t let that stop her. She stormed away, keeping her head high, listening to the pulsing in her veins.

It took her a full hundred metres before she stopped listening out for the sound of her name behind her. Before she accepted that Jack was not going to call her back.

And it was only then that she realised her eyes were damp with tears.

Chapter Fifteen

Dear Lily,

I’m in London at the moment. I’m so close to you – Mum told me you still live near Tunbridge Wells. I tracked down Emma’s grandson this week. I told you about Emma, didn’t I? Well, she and I are sort of friends now, believe it or not. She’s kind of spiky, but not as spiky as she’d have you believe. I think she does it because she’s worried about letting people get close, in case she loses them – and that’s something I can relate to. I was so hoping that when I found Jack, I’d be able to fix things between them.

You’ll love this twist – do you remember the man in the coffee shop? The one we ran into that day? Well, turns out he’s Emma’s grandson – Jack, that is – and if anyone can appreciate the irony there, it’s you. He’s still just as attractive, in case you were wondering. I should have told him right away, about Emma. But I got distracted and I didn’t, and now I think I might have only made things worse. Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I? It’s because I don’t really know what to do. I wish I could call you, ask you. I imagine you’d say what Abi says about the whole thing – that I should stop meddling – but it’s different somehow, hearing it from a big sister.

You used to tell me to fix things, to own up to what I’d done and put it right, because I was always trying to pretend I hadn’t done anything wrong. Like Mum’s vase, do you remember? The one with the purple flowers on. I knocked it over and it shattered everywhere. I can’t really remember why. I was probably playing with it. Anyway, I refused to own up to it, even though it was obviously me and even though Mum was really upset, because Dad had given it to her on a birthday – and it was one of the only presents he’d picked out for her himself that she actually liked. You kept telling me to fix it – I think you meant I had to say sorry, because I doubt you meant I had to glue it back together. You did the same when I was eighteen and spilled red wine on the carpet when everyone else was out – only then you meant to actually fix it, clean it up before Mum sees.

I didn’t listen to you back then. Maybe that was a good thing, because as it turns out, I’m not very good at fixing things. But I’m trying, Lily. I might not be able to fix things with you, but I’m going to try and fix this, ok?

Love,

Holly