Page 31 of Never Gonna Happen

‘I can pop out to Iceland later,’ said Emily. ‘I’m really sorry, but he was going to spend Christmas on his own.’

‘Where are his family?’ gasped Carol, her voice full of concern.

Emily crossed her fingers to offset the incoming lie. ‘He hasn’t really said, but I think he finds it very difficult to spend time with them.’

‘Oh, poor lamb,’ sighed Carol. ‘It must be bad if he was planning to spend Christmas alone. Well, of course we’ll make him welcome. I’ll ask your dad to get the other airbed out of the loft.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Emily. ‘He’s brought his own duvet and pillow. Please don’t ask him about the family thing, I think it’s a bit complicated.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Carol, who was almost certainly already dreaming of it. By the time they arrived she would have honed a fictional narrative that involved a childhood with an evil father who locked him in a coal shed and a mother who drank to dull the pain of her cursed existence.

‘We’ll see you in a few hours,’ said Emily.

‘All right, love. I’m glad you and Jamie have got together. He seemed a bit smitten at the party.’

Emily laughed. ‘How would you know? You were so pissed you could see through time.’

‘I know, but what a night we had.’

‘Moomin, you’re home!’ yelled Carol three hours later, pulling her into a huge hug. ‘Oh, this is just lovely.’

Emily lugged two carrier bags of M&S food and drink inside, wondering what must be going through Jamie’s head right now. Surprised by how small their house was? Horrified by the rainbow fairy lights and the knitted elves hanging from the bannisters? Emily couldn’t look at him, just in case.

‘Thanks for having me, Mrs Wilkinson,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry it was such short notice.’

‘Don’t be daft and call me Carol,’ she said, wrapping him into an unnecessarily lingering hug. ‘You’re a bonus Christmas treat. Come on through and I’ll get the kettle on.’ He turned and gave Emily a grin as her mother dragged him off, and Emily allowed herself to breathe.

‘You all right, Moo?’ said Martin, appearing from the kitchen. ‘Mum stolen your new man already? Come on, I’ll help you get your bags in.’

Martin swapped his slippers for a pair of black Crocs that lived by the front door, then followed Emily back outside. Everything felt different here; Emily couldn’t explain it, but even the Chichester air smelled like home.

‘All OK then?’ said Martin, which was Dad code for ‘Is your new man treating you in a way I would approve of?’

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ said Emily, handing him the bags of presents. ‘Really good, actually. Happy to be home.’

Martin nodded and pulled her into a hug. ‘That’s all right then.’

Jamie eased himself into family life at the Wilkinson house as though he was entirely comfortable in this world, giving no indication that he’d spent his life in a huge house on a two-thousand-acre estate. If he was taken aback by the gaudy Christmas tree and the shabby furniture in the tiny rooms, he didn’t let on. Instead he drank Carol’s tea, then switched to beer when Emily’s brother David arrived with Joanna and their two boys, nine-year-old Billy and seven-year-old Charlie. Emily hadn’t seen her brother’s family since the summer and felt the happy anticipation of proper time together to catch up. It was a shame Simon couldn’t make it, but the house already felt like it was full to bursting.

Emily cornered Carol in the kitchen to discuss the sleeping arrangements, worried that Jamie’s arrival had made things difficult. ‘Where are Billy and Charlie sleeping, Mum?’ she asked. On previous visits they’d shared the second bedroom with their parents, but they felt a bit old for that now.

‘They’ll have to go in with David and Jo,’ said Carol, ‘unless you have a better idea.’

‘Why don’t they take my room?’ suggested Emily. ‘Billy can have my bed and Charlie can sleep on the airbed on the floor. Give David and Jo a bit of space.’

‘Where are you going to go?’

‘I can sleep on the sofa down here, and Jamie can have the other airbed.’

‘Ohhhh,’ said Carol with a theatrical wink. ‘I see what’s going on.’

Emily blushed. ‘No, it’s not that. We haven’t . . .’

‘What, you haven’t done it yet?’ whispered Carol.

‘No, of course not,’ said Emily, trying to look scandalised at the suggestion. ‘We literally got together last week.’

‘All right, blessed Virgin Mary,’ said Carol, holding up her hands. ‘If you don’t mind being downstairs, that would be lovely for David and Jo. And better for the boys too, I expect.’