Page 81 of The Christmas Letter

‘Yes,’ Holly said, ‘but—’

‘Did you buy me something nice? Don’t tell me you forgot. I was banking on some lace.’

‘Emma, we—’

‘And Jack.’

Jack jolted at the sound of his name.

‘I barely asked you anything yesterday. Tell me. What’s been happening? There’s so much I want to know.’ Emma’s no-nonsense tone faltered here, something deeper and more pleading coming through. ‘Are you still in London?’

Jack moved closer to Emma’s bed, standing at the foot of it, while Holly stayed beside Emma’s head. ‘I shouldn’t have left it this long, to get in touch.’

‘So, we’re talking about it, then,’ Emma said. She closed her eyes briefly.

She looked so tired. So old. She was old; Holly knew that. Logically, she knew it. But Emma just didn’t seem it – she still seemed so vibrant, so alive.

Emma opened her eyes and indicated the chairs next to her. ‘Come and sit down, I don’t want to have to look up at you.’

Jack moved to take one of the chairs next to Emma, as if he was thankful to have an order to obey, and Holly bit her lip. ‘Should I—’

‘No, you stay,’ Emma said. ‘You’re the reason he’s here, aren’t you?’

Holly winced.

‘Oh, don’t start with that again, I’m not going to bite your head off.’

‘Well, that would make a first,’ Holly muttered as she took the second chair, earning a wink from Emma and a small smile from Jack.

‘Look,’ Emma continued, addressing Jack, her turquoise gaze sharp on his. ‘This goes two ways. You are not to take all the blame, just because I’m, well . . .’ She puffed out a breath. ‘I didn’t get in touch either, even after this one’s prodding.’

Holly felt her chest growing hot at the reminder that she was caught in the middle here – even if that was totally and completely her own fault.

‘Even after I sent the letter, I—’

‘What letter?’ Jack asked with a frown.

‘The Dear Stranger letter,’ Emma said with an impatient wave of her hand.

‘The what?’

Now Emma looked at Holly. ‘You didn’t tell him.’

‘Ah, no. I didn’t go into much detail about how we met.’ She could feel Jack’s gaze on her too, now. Somehow the whole why of it all, the letter that had brought Holly into Emma’s life in the first place, just hadn’t come up – Jack hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t thought to tell him.

Emma gave Holly a raised-eyebrow look, then glanced between the two of them. There was something in that glance – something which suggested she knew more than she was letting on. ‘Right, well, we can circle back to that. The point is, after it all happened, after the crash . . .’ Emma’s face tightened. ‘I understood, why you and your mum blamed me. I blamed me too. I was driving, and it doesn’t matter if another car was there.’

‘Another car?’ Jack repeated, his voice sounding far way. He’d told Holly Emma had hit a tree, she remembered. ‘I sort of remember, but I don’t . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t remember all of it.’

‘Well, that’s a small blessing,’ Emma said quietly. ‘It’s a curse, remembering. I’ve lost a few things, memories going hazy with age – but I’ve never forgotten that night.’

‘There was another car?’ Jack repeated. ‘That’s why you swerved?’

‘Yes.’

Holly felt twitchy. Like she shouldn’t be here, witnessing this – even as another part of her wanted to stay, to understand. But the heat rising in her chest was more than either of those things – because the whole conversation, it was making her think of her crash, of the car that had come at them. Of the car behind. Of what might have happened, if there hadn’t been another stranger on the road that day, ready to call an ambulance when they saw the accident.

‘Mum said it was your fault,’ Jack said, and his voice sounded thick.