Page 7 of The Christmas Letter

Dear Stranger,

This will be my third Christmas alone. By the time you get this letter, it will be three years since I drove my sister headfirst into another car. Three years since we were taken to hospital, both unconscious. Three years since my sister disappeared from my life.

Every year, I think it will get easier – but it never does.

Christmas will always be the anniversary of that day, a reminder of the crash. Christmas Eve will always be the day I wonder, what if? What if I hadn’t insisted on driving? What if I’d powered on through, hadn’t stopped at that café? What if we’d enjoyed our drinks there, instead of taking them on the road?

I started taking part in this Dear Stranger club to feel less alone. Well, if I’m being totally honest I started it because my friend Abi made me do it after she heard about it on some radio programme, but the reason I went along with it was because I hoped it might make me feel less lonely. And I suppose it does. Knowing that you, wherever you are, whoever you are, are out there, somewhere, knowing that you will read what I write, listen and understand what it feels like, is a comfort. So thank you for that.

But Christmas is supposed to be a time for family and friends, isn’t it? And it still is in some ways for me too, I suppose. I still find myself looking at things in a shop window, and thinking they would be a good present for Mum or Dad. For my sister. Even if I’ll never spend Christmas with Lily again, I still manage to find the perfect gift for her, every year.

I’m sorry: this letter is more morbid than my letters usually are. It isn’t all bad, I promise. And soon enough, the festive period will be over and I can look forward to term starting and the distraction that brings. I hope that you, too, have some distraction to look forward to.

Anyway, I’m glad you’re out there, Stranger, and I hope that, like me, it gives you comfort to know that even if you are alone, even if you are lonely, you are not the only one feeling like that. We will both get through this Christmas, I promise, and there will be a bright, shiny new year waiting for us. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I’m telling you too, and I hope maybe you’ll believe me.

I am sending love and good thoughts out into the world as I send this. I was never one for fate – that was always my sister’s style – but good thoughts can’t hurt, can they?

Love,

Holly

‘What are you doing right now? Are you sitting around on the sofa doing nothing?’ Holly held the phone away from her ear as Abi practically shouted at her down the line. She had a tendency to do that. Holly was convinced it was the drama teacher in her – she got so used to telling all her students to project that she’d forgotten what it was like to speak at normal volume. ‘You are, aren’t you?’ Abi pressed. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t.’

‘I’m not sitting around doing nothing,’ Holly said obediently, though she was, in fact, currently sitting on her secondhand green sofa, staring into space because switching the TV on felt like too much effort.

‘Lies,’ Abi said, calling her bluff. ‘But I’m seeing you tomorrow, right? For Christmas Eve drinks? I’ve sent James to London to see his brother, so it’s just the two of us.’

Holly sunk deeper into the sofa. Christmas Eve. She’d done nothing to decorate the flat this year – that had always been Abi’s domain, before she’d moved out – so there was no sign of impending Christmas in her little flat. The flat itself wasn’t terrible – it was small, yes, but had been done up nicely before Holly had moved in, and it still had a sleek, modern feel, even if the kitchen cupboards did have a tendency to fall off their hinges. But right now, it seemed danker than usual – the grey winter light giving the living room a dreary feel, making it obvious that the beige carpet had seen one too many spillages over the years. It made Holly wonder if she’d done the right thing, continuing on the lease after Abi had moved in with James, her gorgeous Irish fiancé – but where else was she supposed to have gone?

She’d met Abi just after the crash when she’d moved to Windsor, running away from London and her life there, unable to face the grief and the guilt. She’d managed to get a job at a secondary school and she had been thankful every day since then that Abi had been one of the other teachers there – because though it had felt like her very world had been imploding on her, Abi had been there to help her through it. And when Abi had moved to the creative arts college to become Assistant Head, Holly had managed to get a job there too. She’d even let Holly move in with her, which had proven to be a godsend, because Holly hadn’t factored in quite how expensive rent was in Windsor and had been struggling in a random houseshare at first.

Abi had moved out two months ago, finally caving to the pressure to move in with James, and leaving Holly feeling a little bereft. She’d meant to get a new flatmate, advertise on SpareRoom or whatever, but hadn’t got around to it. Plus, she had a vague notion that she might ask Daniel to move in with her – because isn’t that what you were supposed to do in your late twenties when you’d been with someone a while?

‘Do you want to get dinner or just drinks?’ Abi asked, bringing Holly out of her reverie.

‘Umm, dinner? We should probably eat, right? Though will we get a table anywhere this last-minute?’

‘I’ll sort it,’ Abi said simply. And she would – Abi always mysteriously ‘sorted’ things.

Holly’s phone beeped at her and she checked the screen. ‘I’ve got to go, Abs, Daniel’s trying to call.’

‘Good. Do something with him so you stop sitting around. Go and have some fun!’

Holly didn’t bother trying to deny it this time. ‘I can’t. He’s off to Prague, remember?’

‘Oh yes, how could I forget.’ There was disapproval in Abi’s voice.

‘He’s allowed a life, Abs.’

‘Yes, he is. I just think maybe he ought to invite you along with him every now and then.’

‘We have a healthy relationship,’ Holly said, aware that she was going on the defensive but unable to stop herself. ‘We respect each other’s space.’ It was one of the things she liked about being with Daniel – he wasn’t on top of her all the time, didn’t make her feel claustrophobic.

Abi rang off and Holly took a moment to make sure her voice was bright before answering Daniel’s call. ‘Hey!’

‘Hey, listen, can we talk?’ He sounded stressed. He did have a tendency to talk that way – had, in fact, been nicknamed Stresshead by some of the students at school, and could be heard losing his cool during his music lessons at least once a week – but generally that was limited to teaching, so this was a little odd.

‘Sure,’ Holly said. ‘What do you need to talk about?’