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“I’m not always stressed. I know how difficult this time of year is for Mom,
and she always tries so hard to make Christmas special, so I always want Christmas to be perfect, too. But it’s harder than all the magazines and TV ads make it look, and I end up feeling like a failure. No one on TV has a five-mile-long to-do list. My turkey is never as glossy looking as the ones in the adverts, and no one in our house sits around with dopey smiles on their face, watching indulgently while perfectly behaved children poke Christmas gifts. And while we’re talking about it, why is it that on TV the needles never fall off the Christmas tree?”
Hannah topped up her water. “Because those images are fake. The turkey has probably been sprayed with something, and the needles have been glued on the damn tree. Those ads are the result of overpaid advertising executives sitting in a room trying to work out how to persuade gullible people like you that a perfect Christmas can be bought for the right amount of money.”
“Excuse me,” Posy said, “but I am not gullible.”
“Excuse me,” Beth said. “Are you saying my advertising executive husband is overpaid? And before you answer, you should probably think about your own salary.”
“I’m not paid to dupe someone into thinking a certain lifestyle is possible if particular products are purchased. It’s a particular type of dishonesty.”
“Oh please.” Beth turned to Posy. “Stop eating my pudding! There’s only a mouthful left.”
“I’m saving you from yourself. And how did we get onto the subject of Jason’s salary? We were talking about Christmas.”
“Mom wants it to be perfect because she’s overcompensating,” Beth said, “but I don’t know what your excuse is.”
“I don’t need an excuse. I’m naturally a very Christmassy sort of person.”
“Prickly you mean? Like holly?”
“I do not mean that. For me, Christmas is about warmth, coziness and family time.” Posy reflected on what Beth had said. It was true that their mother tried too hard to make Christmas perfect. Also true that overcompensating played a significant part.
“For me, Christmas is about the kids.” Beth put her spoon down. “I want to make perfect memories for them. I want them to associate it with sleigh bells and sparkly lights and all those extra trappings that unscrupulous ad people like my husband flash in our direction.”
Hannah stared into the fire. “For me, Christmas is all about the accident. Suzanne overcompensates, but given the choice, I’d avoid it altogether. Every year I just want it to be over.”
Posy saw the agony in her eyes and suddenly she forgot all about Luke and her worry about what would happen next.
Hannah had been older. Of the three of them, she’d been the most affected by their parents’ death.
She’d never thought of Hannah as vulnerable, and yet over the past few days she’d discovered how wrong she was. She thought of Hannah with red eyes, Hannah anxious that she’d be a terrible mother, Hannah with wet hair, wondering why Adam had called.
And now Hannah admitting how difficult she found this time of year.
Posy had never heard her sister talk like this before. She knew it was a huge thing for her and wanted to acknowledge that somehow, but she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.
For once, Beth was silent, too.
Remembering how it had felt when Beth had hugged her, Posy reached across and rubbed Hannah’s hand. “How can we help?”
Hannah seemed to pull herself together. “You can’t. I’ll deal with it. I always do.”
“But you deal with it alone,” Posy said, “and I don’t like the thought of that.”
Beth nodded. “I don’t like it, either. We’re a team. A unit. And right now it feels good. We should do this more often.” She glanced round the pub, soaking up the atmosphere. “I’m almost glad Mom threw us out. A roaring log fire, a big, warm Scottish welcome and family. We don’t often get to talk like this. Why don’t we?”
“Because we’re only ever together at Christmas.”
“But we don’t usually do it even then. This should be a new tradition. Every Christmas the three McBride sisters will go to the pub and speak the truth about their lives. I’m loving the honesty. We are the Christmas Sisters. Forget Santa sweaters, I’m ordering matching T-shirts for us to wear on Christmas Day.”
“As long as you don’t expect me to wear it.” Hannah stroked her hand over her soft cashmere sweater, as if she was afraid Beth might be about to rip it off.
Posy wondered how far this new honesty stretched. Did she dare ask about Adam? From what he’d said to her on the phone, Hannah was a different woman with him and she wanted to know that person.
She decided to risk it. “Tell us about Adam with the sexy voice.”
“Adam is a colleague.” Hannah glanced at them and must have seen something in their faces, because she sighed. “All right, I admit he’s a little more than a colleague. We’ve been seeing each other.”
