Page 12 of A Winter Wish

Lexie smiled. “Happy Christmas.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent Christmas at home. It must have been eight years ago now, while she was still at university. She felt an uncomfortable surge of guilt, even though she knew that her mum always had people to spend Christmas with. In recent years, they’d made sure to video call—and her mum was usually getting ready to go and spend Christmas with a friend. She had an endless number of friends, her mum. Over the years, the two of them had also formed a tradition—instead of buying presents for each other to open (one year a present her mum had sent to her had gotten lost at customs somewhere), they decided on an experience that they’d do together—each paying for the other. Last year it had been a cookery course, the year before it had been the spa. They’d already decided on this year’s activity—an experience where you got to go and feed the meerkats at a local wildlife center—before Lexie had got the call about her dad. But Lexie still sometimes wondered if it made her a bad daughter, the fact that she was never around for Christmas Day itself.

“Who were you planning on spending Christmas with this year, Mum?” Lexie asked.

“Hmm? Oh just the usual, you know.”

Lexie raised her eyebrows at the very vague answer, but her mum plowed on.

“I was thinking we’d have blinis for breakfast in a bit—that’s what Kirsty, you know, Fran’s mum, did last year for Christmas, and they are truly excellent with smoked salmon.”

“Sounds good.” Or it would have—if she had any confidence in her mum’s cooking skills.

On the coffee table, Lexie’s phone buzzed, and she leaned forward to look at the message. It was a group photo from her friends in Austria, all outside in the snow. It made her smile—made her feel like it was the right decision, to be flying back out there tomorrow. Everything was packed, ready to go. Well, nearly everything. She grimaced as she thought of the green canvas bag, still sitting at R&L Travel.

“Mum, I’m really sorry, but do you mind if I pop out? I’ll be two hours, max.”

“What on earth do you need to pop out for on Christmas Day?”

“I know, it’s stupid. It’s just that I forgot something in the office and if I don’t get it now I’ll be in a rush to make my flight tomorrow.”

“You’re going through with that, are you? You’re definitely going back?”

“Yes,” Lexie said firmly. Her decision was made, and nothing her mum could say would change that. Which her mum seemed to gather, because she didn’t press the issue.

“All right. But don’t be too long or all the sherry will have gone by the time you’re back. I plan to crack it open any minute now.”

Lexie laughed, then gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

—

When she got to the office, she let herself in with the key code that Ange had made her memorize. The whole city was eerily quiet—only a very few people out in the open—and the office had that same kind of spooky, empty feel. It was dark, but Lexie didn’t switch on the lights—she felt the need to keep quiet and hidden.

She tiptoed to the back room and used the light on her phone to find her bag. She felt inside. There, next to her hairbrush, was her wish jar. She took it out of the bag, placing it on the desk next to Ange’s photos, just to check it wasn’t broken. She hadn’t put a wish in this Christmas. It was only now that she realized. She’d left Austria in a hurry, and then things had been so messed up since she’d landed that she hadn’t even thought of it. It gave her a slight pang, looking at all the folded-up pieces of paper inside. It was the first year she’d not done it. What would she wish for now? She closed her eyes, took a slow breath. She didn’t have a clue.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a folder on the desk. Automatically she reached out and flipped it open, shining her torch to look. She knew immediately what she was looking at. Cutouts from magazines of people in steaming pools, and a photo of bright blue-green light flashing across a darkened sky.

Maybe we’ll even see the northern lights, Little Lex, if we’re really lucky.

Lexie slammed the folder shut and tried to shove her dad’s voice out of her mind. But she couldn’t quite block the memory of him telling her where they’d be spending Christmas that year, his face poker-straight as he listed destinations, trying to get her to guess which one it was.

“Iceland!” And she’d leaped into his arms, something she was starting to get too big for, and he’d swung her around the way he’d done when she was really little. She remembered the way he’d grinned at her, the way it had made his eyes, so like hers, crinkle at the corners.

She stared at the folder, a lump forming in her throat. She didn’t remember him leaving. Didn’t have one definitive memory of him storming out the house, never to come back, like you see in the movies. It had just seemed to her that he was always there, her dad who made jokes and took her on adventures through the woods on the weekends, and then he wasn’t. And she’d never really understood it—no one had explained why, other than it just hadn’t been working and of course he still loves you, Lexie.

The sound of the office door opening made Lexie jump. She lifted her phone torch to look toward the doorway and Theo moved out of the bright glare, his face mostly obscured by shadow.

“Any reason you’re standing in the dark?” he asked, flicking on the office light. She lowered her phone, pushed back her hair self-consciously.

She frowned as she took him in. His stubble had grown a bit over the last two days, and he was wearing jeans and a casual jumper. “What are you doing here?”

That scarred eyebrow flicked up. He moved into the room, closer to her. “I live here, remember?”

She lifted her chin in the air. “You don’t live here, in the actual office.” But did that mean he was spending Christmas in the flat above, on his own? Though maybe he had someone up there, waiting for him.

“What are you doing here? Come to sabotage the place? Burn it all down?”

“What would be the point of that?”