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“Drinking mocktails?”

“No, people watching. I don’t miss work at all, which is strange considering how much it dominated my life. What I’ll miss are the incidental moments, watching TV with you and the girls, sitting in a cafe guessing the lives of passers-by.”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m sure wherever you’re going will have all those things and more.”

“But it won’t have you.”

Jeff gazed at his wife and shared a moment of deep sadness, only broken by the waitress coming to take their order.

“You might have me sooner than you think if I die of a broken heart,” said Rissa once they were alone again.

Jeff laughed. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. I’m glad it’s me going first, as I could never cope the way I know you will.”

“I’m not as strong as you think,” said Rissa, twirling the ring on her left hand. Jeff cupped a hand beneath her chin and pulled her face up to his.

“You are a remarkable woman and don’t you ever forget that. The girls will be there for you, and your friends. Please don’t stop living because of me.”

“I’ve already booked my flight to India,” said Rissa, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

“You haven’t?”

“No, of course not. How heartless do you think I am! But please don’t worry about me. Now, can we move on to a cheerier subject?”

They talked about their daughters, their granddaughters, politics, house prices, all the usual things middle-aged couples discuss over drinks. Reality sat between them like an unacknowledged stranger, but they had given enough time to reality, and Rissa couldn’t face going over it all again. Jeff hadn’t been able to detach himself completely from his management history, planning his funeral in precise detail, right down to the dress code. Rissa would appreciate his organisation when the time came, but it was hard hearing about his plans when he was living, breathing right beside her.

Rissa watched her husband wave his arms around in animation as he listed all the politicians he felt should go. She committed every movement, every inflection of his voice to memory. Her mind drifted back over thirty years of marriage. It hadn’t always been easy, but they’d stuck it out. She met so many couples these days who just gave up, like marriage was something to be thrown away and replaced like a broken iPhone. Jeff had never cheated in the conventional sense of the word, but for years his work had been his mistress, as had the children to her, and that had led to a gaping chasm between them they’d only just began addressing before he got his diagnosis. If anything, Rissa was more angry than sad. They were just entering a new phase in life, planning adventures, finding ways to reconnect, and that future had been stolen by one lousy set of test results.

“Don’t tell me you like him?”

“Sorry, who?”

“Aren’t you listening to me? I’ve just been doing a comprehensive character assassination of Boris. I thought you were listening, I’m not going to have to go over it all again am I?” Jeff grinned at her and rested his hand on hers.

“I was away with the fairies, sorry.”

“Come on Mrs, it might never happen.” He winked at his wife, and she smiled back, feeling another corner crumbling away from her heart. It would happen, and it would happen soon, too soon. She felt the weight of her best friend’s hand on hers, swallowed down the tears in her throat, and ordered another drink.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KATE WOKE EARLYon Christmas morning. The day held mixed feelings for her, on the one hand the excitement of a young child, on the other the disappointment of knowing the day never lived up to expectations.

When she still lived with her mum, the day would follow the same pattern every year. Her mum claimed Christmas day as her favourite, probably because everyone else in the country was getting pissed and for that one day she wasn’t alone.

Mother and daughter would be up by eight, a Christmas miracle in itself given how much Mum would’ve drunk the night before. They’d open presents, snuggle under a duvet and Kate would watch Christmas TV while Mum snored beside her. At lunchtime, they’d walk around the block, peeking in at all the happy families, gazing enviously at their large spreads of food and enormous piles of presents. Back at home, they would pull crackers over whatever food Mum picked up on the reduced aisle, then sit down again for more TV. The Queen’s speech was a must, Mum was a royalist through and through and made Kate stand every time they heard the national anthem. By early evening Mum would be well on the way to sloshed. Kate knew the signs well, retreating to her bedroom to play with whatever new toy she got that year.

The build-up to the day was always better than the event itself. Kate’s favourite part was watching the light switch on in town. It was free, so they went every year, revelling in the mass excitement and festive cheer, despite the lights being turned on in November, so a little premature. As she got older, Kate would be given a fiver to buy presents. There weren’t many to buy, but even back then, a fiver wasn’t a lot, and Kate had to find ingenious ways to make it stretch.

Christmas presents were always bought at the charity shop. Mum said it was because they were Eco Warriors, and Kate liked the sound of that, despite knowing deep down the real reason was they were poor. None of Kate’s handful of school friends were rich, but they always had more to spend at Christmas than she did. It was a point of pride for her, beating the odds and choosing the best gifts.

One year she’d found a Gucci top for a friend. It had had a stain running down one side, so Kate plaited pieces of ribbon together and sewed them on. It only cost £1, probably because the label had been cut out, but Kate had seen a celeb wearing it in one of the tacky magazines in the doctor’s surgery, so was sure it was the real thing.

Another time she picked up a photo frame for fifty pence, and filled it with magazine cut outs of Ronan Keating for her super fan friend Annie. She screamed when she opened it, which Kate had taken as a positive reaction.

Despite their relative poverty, not a year went by without Kate getting a present from her mum. She never asked how she got the money, or where she found the toys, but every Christmas morning there was a present under the tree, along with a stocking filled with her favourite packets of crisps and sweets. Kate smiled at the memory. The situation with her mum had been made all the harder by the fact she wasn’t a monster. It was tricky to feel angry when you knew someone was trying their best. During her teenage years she’d struggled to keep her frustrations quiet, but their confrontations always ended with Kate consoling her remorseful parent.

Kate pushed thoughts of her past to the back of her mind and made herself a coffee. As it was Christmas and she had nowhere to go, she carried her laptop and blanket into the living room and laid herself out on the sofa, ready to scour Netflix for Christmas movies. The soppier and more predictable the better.

The opening scenes of a snow-covered pine forest were appearing on the screen when a knock came at the door. Kate wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and went to open it.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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