Page 90 of The Christmas Letter

‘They are not sculptures,’ Holly said. ‘They’re—’

‘You know,’ Emma said, talking over Holly and flicking through the newspaper on the coffee table, even though there was no possible way she could actually be reading it, ‘maybe creating sculpture wedding toppers will be your thing.’

‘My thing?’

‘Yes, like Mirabelle Landor and the cards. Do you know, she started from nothing? She had no experience in the industry and then—’

‘Then you found her?’ Holly used a falsely sweet voice, one that made Jack chuckle.

‘It has nothing to do with that,’ Emma said, sniffing.

‘Are you ever actually going to introduce us to Mirabelle Landor?’ Jack asked. ‘Or just use her as a point to try and win arguments?’

‘Yes,’ Holly agreed. ‘Quite. I think I’d like to meet her; she’s clearly made such an impression on you.’

‘She’s an example of a woman following her dream and making it work as a business. What’s not to love?’ Emma said with a vague air. ‘She’s what you could be,’ she added, looking at Holly, ‘if you ever gave it a go.’

Jack looked at Holly with raised eyebrows. ‘She give you a Mirabelle Landor card too?’

‘You did,’ Holly said. ‘Ah, in the café, I mean,’ she added quickly, a tinge of red creeping into her cheeks again. She shrugged, though she didn’t quite pull off the nonchalance. ‘It’s a cool painting – I still have it.’

‘In the café? What do you mean, in the café?’ Emma’s eyes turned sharp.

‘Nothing,’ Holly said quickly.

But Jack remembered. He’d been carrying around the card Emma had given him for his birthday, the one she’d written in. He’d been carrying it, because he’d been preparing to see her – maybe hoping to, despite everything. And he’d bought another of Mirabelle Landor’s cards on a whim, and then given it to Holly.

She still had it. She’d held on to it, all this time – even after the crash.

Emma opened her mouth, clearly about to press the issue, but Holly beat her to it. ‘Anyway, Abi is freaking out at the moment because one of the guests has cancelled last minute and now the seating plan is all messed up, and she’s already paid for all the food for them.’

‘Inconsiderate, cancelling last minute,’ Emma sniffed.

‘Yeah. She’s looking for someone to replace them, actually, so the money’s not wasted. At this stage, I wouldn’t put it past her to ask a random stranger off the street.’

‘Jack could come,’ Emma said, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world, for him to gatecrash Holly’s friend’s wedding.

‘Ah . . .’ Jack said, glancing at Holly for instruction. She was still looking at Emma, but he could see all the different emotions playing across her face as she clearly tried to think of the right thing to say. He loved that about her, he realised. The fact that she wore everything so openly, even when she tried not to. Liked. He liked that about her.

‘I’m sure Jack has plans for Friday,’ Holly said eventually.

‘Jack never has plans,’ Emma said – not entirely untruthfully. Especially now he didn’t have work to hide behind. So unless Ed dragged him out somewhere, which was harder to do now he was spending more time down in Devon, he tended to spend his time with Emma, or making lists of possible places he could apply to for jobs.

Holly looked down at the coffee table, clearly still unsure of what to say, then frowned at some brightly coloured leaflets there. ‘What are these, Emma?’

‘Oh nothing, just some light reading.’

But Holly was paling as she picked them up.

‘Don’t worry,’ Jack said quietly. ‘She won’t be going into one.’ Emma had been making noises about going into a hospice recently, but Jack was determined not to let her. He was planning to move down here, once he’d worked out his notice. And fine, yes, he was trying to make up for not having been in touch, trying to alleviate his own guilt, but so what?

‘Jack,’ Emma said with a long-suffering sigh, ‘I know I look robust right now, but it may get a lot worse than this and I just think having the option—’

‘No,’ Jack said bluntly.

Holly bit her lip as she stared at the leaflet in her hand.

‘Care to weigh in on this?’ he asked, harsher than he’d meant to. But he wanted her to back him up.