Page 75 of The Christmas Letter

‘I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.’

‘Thank you, my darling. Now go and buy Emma something lacy, won’t you? And with regards to that grandson of hers—’

‘I’m being careful,’ Holly said quickly. ‘Don’t worry.’

‘Oh gosh, are you? How incredibly boring, that’s disappointing.’

Holly couldn’t help it – she laughed.

When she hung up, Jack glanced back at her.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘It’s just I had to tell her and—’

‘Don’t worry about it. Honestly.’ But it hung between them for a beat – at the fact that it was Holly, not Jack, filling in Emma’s friend.

‘I don’t remember a Pam,’ Jack said with a slight frown, like he was trying to dig up some memory.

‘I think she moved there about ten years ago.’

‘Ah. Well that would explain it then.’

Again, another beat between them. One which Holly covered up by saying brightly. ‘Well, I think it’s time to do some shopping, don’t you?’

‘I do love shopping,’ Jack said, deadpan. ‘Especially for lace.’ Holly gave him a look, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

He followed her into one of the stores along the canal, looked around while Holly tried to find something she liked.

‘What do you think?’ Holly asked, holding up a long white skirt, the bottom adorned with lace.

‘Ah . . .’ Jack ran a hand across the back of his neck, looking a little alarmed at having been asked his opinion. ‘For you or Emma?’

Holly’s eyebrows pulled together as she looked back at the skirt. ‘Me,’ she said, thinking that should be obvious – the skirt was far too floaty for Emma. ‘But if you had to ask, then maybe not.’ She put it back and glanced along the rack at the small, boutique shop, the wind from the fan fluttering her hair. ‘I doubt any of this would look good on me anyway – everything’s too white.’ She glanced behind her, worried that the shopkeeper had overheard her, but she was distracted by two other tourists, women in their forties, at a guess, who looked like they were grateful to be inside, where there was a fan.

‘Or red, or black,’ Jack said, pointing out two dresses.

‘Yes, but they’re not traditional.’ Surely, if she was going to buy a lacy something from an island known specifically for its lace, it had to be white.

‘Well, get white then,’ Jack said with a shrug, perusing the shelves absentmindedly. ‘White looks good on everyone.’

‘It so does not: you can’t wear white when you’re as pale and pasty as me.’ Bright colours suited her best – like the cobalt-blue strappy dress she was wearing right now. Usually, she liked it that way, but right now her inability to wear white felt like a serious shortcoming.

Jack glanced over at her. ‘You’re not that pasty.’

Holly huffed as she looked along the line of clothes again. ‘Way to flatter a girl.’

‘Want flattery now, do you?’ He grinned, lightness coming into his face. ‘Because I’m pretty sure I could do a whole lot better than “tanned”, as far as compliments go.’

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. She picked up a white lace shift dress from the end of the rack, held it up critically. ‘Would Emma like something like this, do you think?’ she asked, not really as a genuine question, more just musing out loud.

‘I don’t know,’ Jack said, in a tone she couldn’t quite read. Because he didn’t know? Because he wished he did know? Or because he was wondering, like she was, if Emma was going to be ok – really ok – in the long run?

They’d been to visit her this morning, the two of them getting up and going to the hospital in a way that had felt very intimate, even if they didn’t so much as hold hands the whole way there. Emma had given them explicit instructions – they were not to sit around waiting for her to get the green light. Emma and Holly had missed their Burano trip yesterday, but Jack, take Holly, will you? she had said. It had felt very fragile, the space between Emma and Jack. Emma was doing her best, Holly could tell, not to make it a big thing, not to make Jack feel awkward, and actually, in her opinion, she was playing it right – allowing them both the pretence of normality. It was what Holly had tried – and failed – to do with Lily. Jack had matched that, allowing Emma to set the tone. There was something there still, though – some tension that had not yet broken.

Holly put the shift dress back and held up a wrap, one that tied at the waist. ‘Actually, maybe something like this,’ she said, deciding to copy Emma and try for some normality.

Jack looked up, then did a sort of shrug-nod thing. ‘Yeah. I like that better.’

Holly studied it, then glanced back to the shift dress. ‘Are you sure?’