Page 93 of The Christmas Letter

‘You did not look awful,’ Holly said immediately. ‘In fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone dance so well in real life – you’ve been keeping that talent hidden.’

Abi laughed and waved Holly away, but her whole face beamed, her very eyes seeming to glow. She pulled Holly and her sister into a hug, two green dresses against Abi’s white. ‘I love you both so much.’

‘Don’t go getting emotional on us yet,’ said Abi’s sister, with a wink at Holly. ‘There’s still the cake and the—’

‘The cake!’ Abi exclaimed. ‘They said we should do that after the first dance.’ They were the owners of the manor, who had run through the whole thing with Abi beforehand and who were, according to Abi, better than ten wedding planners.

‘I don’t think it matters if you don’t stick exactly to schedule,’ Holly said, but Abi was already pulling her off the dance floor, grabbing James as they went.

‘You should be at the front,’ Abi said firmly. She let go of Holly and went to stand with James behind the beautiful four-tiered wedding cake – the traditional white icing, but with hand-painted flowers around the edges of each layer. It really was gorgeous. Holly knew that each layer was a different flavour – had heard quite a lot about those flavours, about how Abi and James had disagreed over whether one layer should be white chocolate and passionfruit or white chocolate and blueberry.

And there, on the very top of the cake, stood the two wedding toppers Holly had made – a mini-Abi and a mini-James. She’d had a photo of Abi and James in front of her as she’d sculpted, getting out her smallest scrapers and scoring tools to add detail to their tiny faces. The first two attempts had been terrible; her hands had been shaking too much. The third was bad too, but only because she’d had some wine in an attempt to calm herself down. So what was now atop the cake was the fourth attempt. They were the first sculptures she’d done since the crash. She wasn’t sure if that was why Abi had asked her, to give her something she couldn’t say no to – but she suspected so. Either way, she was glad she’d agreed – it had proven she could still do it, even if it was only something small and silly like this. But there was something else there too, something that sat deep and sad in her core – because she’d made the wedding toppers for a cake once before.

Did Lily still have them, she wondered? She’d promised to keep them for ever, in pride of place above the fireplace in her and Steve’s flat. But maybe she’d thrown them out, at the same time as she’d thrown Holly out of her life.

She felt a hand, cool and papery, squeeze hers as Abi and James held the knife together and sliced, to much applause. ‘They’re beautiful,’ Emma said quietly.

Holly felt Jack come up on her other side, but she didn’t turn to look at him – she didn’t want to let on how in tune to him she was, how her body was constantly aware of where his was in relation to hers.

‘Care to dance?’ It wasn’t Jack asking her but Rob, the usher whom Emma had been so effectively blocking all night, holding out his hand as people either headed straight for the cake or moved back onto the dance floor. His accent held an Irish lilt, but it was less strong than some of the accents she’d heard today, so maybe he was visiting, like James. He had an air of James about him, too – a little more stubble and a little broader around the chest, but the same red-brown hair, and tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. He was attractive enough, she supposed – if it weren’t for the way he was leering at her right now, his cheeks flushed from all the red wine he’d drunk, his lips stained brown. Not his fault – it was a wedding, after all. Although maybe the leering was his fault.

‘Oh, I can’t, I’m so sorry,’ she said, doing her best at a meek, apologetic smile. ‘I told you about my foot, remember?’

Rob, looking disappointed, drew back his hand, but Jack, who had clearly tuned into the conversation, piped up from next to her. ‘What about your foot?’

Holly glanced at Jack. ‘I broke it in a skating accident a few years ago,’ she said, trying to sound casual.

‘Did you?’

‘Yes,’ Holly said, the word a bit too emphatic to be totally believable. She quickly added, ‘I told you about it, remember?’

Though Jack’s lips quirked at the corners, he gave a solemn nod. ‘Ah yes. At the Somerset House ice rink. And it started as such a beautiful day . . .’

‘I thought you said you broke it in Germany?’ Rob asked suspiciously.

Why – why did he have to pay so much attention to her lies? She could feel her cheeks growing warm. ‘I, ah . . .’

‘That’s because she broke it twice,’ Jack said easily.

‘Right,’ Holly agreed. ‘Balance not really my strong suit.’

Rob was looking between Jack and Holly. ‘Why do you keep skating, then?’

‘Because I love it,’ Holly said very seriously. ‘I love all the . . .’ – she gestured a hand in the air – ‘ice.’

‘Can’t get her away from icicles, either,’ Jack said, deadpan.

‘Icicles?’ Rob repeated.

‘Yeah. She has a little book where she sticks photographs of them.’

‘You do?’

Holly shot Jack a look, but there was no going back now. ‘I do,’ she said, making it sound like she was admitting an embarrassing secret. ‘I also really like ice cubes.’ In for a penny . . .

‘Right,’ Rob said, dragging the word out.

‘And ice cream,’ Jack said.