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Meg left her car and stood for a moment, breathing in the scent of pine. The whole place smelt like Christmas.
They could live here, she thought. They could make a life together. Be a family.
If that was what he wanted. If she wasn’t too late.
Walking towards the front door, she wondered if he’d seen her arrive. No, because he wouldn’t ignore her, would he? She refused to be that paranoid. If he’d seen her arrive, he would have answered the door. He wasn’t the sort to run and hide in the basement.
Her hand shook as she pressed the bell.
If her mother was wrong then she was about to make a total fool of herself. She was about to put her heart out there—everything she felt. She was giving him the chance to squash it.
Except that he wasn’t answering.
Which meant he obviously wasn’t sitting around brooding or getting blind drunk.
He’d gone out. Unless—unless he was inside and he already had company.
Feeling her courage drain away, Meg bit her lip, realising that the party had probably gone on long after she’d left. As far as he was concerned, their relationship was over. What was to stop him finding someone else?
The cold seeped through her jumper but Meg barely noticed.
She’d ruined everything. She should have been brave.
But she hadn’t.
And now she’d lost him.
It was over.
‘Mummy, wake up! He’s been! Can I open my stocking in your bed?’ Without waiting for an invitation, Jamie dragged his lumpy, bumpy stocking into the bed and Meg struggled to wake up.
She glanced at the clock and realised she’d been asleep for less than two hours.
‘It’s still only seven o’clock, Jamie, so don’t make too much noise. Grandma is asleep and she doesn’t want to be woken up this early.’
‘Do you need coffee or something?’ Jamie peered at her. ‘You look funny.’
‘I just haven’t quite woken up yet.’ Meg sat up and tried to shake off the sleep. ‘But I’m working on it. Right. What’s in this stocking?’ Even half-asleep and broken-hearted, she enjoyed watching him dig the presents out of the stocking and rip off the paper. They were just small things, but from the look on his face he might have been given the world. Watching his delight at discovering a Batman torch that had cost her less than a cup of coffee, she felt a rush of pride and gratitude. He was such a sweet-natured boy. So undemanding compared to so many of the other children she saw, who were only interested in the label or the ‘next big thing’.
‘This is so cool.’ He lay on his back on her bed, flashing the torch at the ceiling. ‘Watch, Mum. The beam is the shape of a bat.’
‘I’m watching.’
‘Isn’t Santa clever, Mum? He knows exactly what I want.’
Meg swallowed. The one thing he really wanted she hadn’t been able to give him.
She’d failed at that.
Racked with maternal guilt, she wrapped her child in her arms and hugged him tightly. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too. Can I give you my present to you now?’
‘You don’t want to wait for Grandma?’
‘Grandma helped me choose. Please? I want to see your face when you open it. You’re going to be so thrilled.’
His enthusiasm was so infectious that Meg grinned. ‘Go on, then.’
