Page 95 of All the Things We Never Knew

She shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t actually be for me. It would be for Joel.’

Understanding dawning, I’d handed over the top, and Laurel had blushed like a teenager.

‘Mum,’ Lulu said now. ‘Come on. Are we going to finish decorating this tree or are you going to stand there staring into space?’

‘Sorry, darling. I was miles away.’

I heard the thump of Barney’s trainers on the stairs as he returned with a scrap of ribbon, which I secured to the bauble.

‘Just the star now,’ I said. ‘Which of you wants to do that?’

They looked at each other. When the kids were small, Gray used to lift one of them up – first Lulu, then each in turn for a few years, then Barney when Lulu got too big – and hold them up high while they secured the sparkling gold star to the top of the tree. Then they’d both got too big for that, and Gray had done it himself.

‘I reckon this’ll be the last year I’m taller than you,’ Lulu said.

‘You go for it, then.’ Barney grinned. ‘Just don’t mess it up.’

Lulu didn’t. She stood on a chair and reached up high and secured the star to the topmost branch of the tree, and then we switched on the lights.

‘Good job.’ I pulled them both close to me and held them for as long as they’d let me, the lights flickering softly on their faces.

Then Barney pulled away from me and said, ‘Mum.’

‘What is it, sweetheart?’

‘Are we still going to leave a mince pie and a glass of sherry out for Santa on Christmas Eve?’

I thought for a moment. That had been another of Gray’s tasks – last thing before the children went to bed, the plate and glass would be carefully arranged on the kitchen table. They hadn’t believed properly in Father Christmas for years now, but the ritual had continued.

‘Of course we are,’ I told them. ‘Last thing we want is a pissed-off Santa, right? We’ll do it together.’

They both laughed, hiding their relief that this memory of their father would be kept alive for as long as they needed it.

Then I said, ‘Come on, let’s put the kettle on and make some hot chocolate. There’s something I want to talk to you both about.’

‘Is it about Dad?’ Lulu asked doubtfully, at the same time as her brother asked, ‘Can we have marshmallows?’

‘Of course we can. And yes, it’s kind of about your dad. But mostly it’s about your grandmother – your dad’s mam.’

FIFTY-FOUR

ORLA

24 December 2024

It is early morning on Christmas Eve, and I am sitting here alone in my kitchen with the cats. The sun will not be up for another half an hour, and Damask Square is dark and silent. When I opened the front door earlier to put food out for the birds, I stood there for a moment in the stillness of a winter wonderland, frost glinting on the railings of the square and the branches of the trees, a few lights twinkling bravely in the darkness, the distant sound of traffic on the main road still barely a hum.

Then a robin trilled its first, urgent call and the day had begun.

Last night, Anna held the pre-Christmas drinks party that has been hosted at number eight for the past fifteen years. The house was as full of people as ever: our neighbours, Anna’s sisters and their families, friends of Anna’s and of Gray’s – all the faces I have seen there over the years, all gathered there to give the Graham family their love and support.

It was brave of her, without Gray – I know she and the children will be feeling his absence more keenly than ever at this time of year, when we are constantly reminded of what families are and what they mean.

But she and the children seem to be finding their way in their new unit of three. Barney showed me the piano his mother had bought him for an early Christmas present, in pride of place at the centre of the room, Augustus the cat asleep on its lid. Lulu was passing round the sausage rolls she’d made using her father’s recipe. Anna offered me a taste of her cranberry mocktail.

It’s not so bad, she said with a half-laugh. Fifty-nine days off the booze and I’m getting used to it now.

I had arrived with Laurel, who told me she was shy about turning up on her own.