Page 81 of Snowed In with You

‘He’s not coming,’ said Lucy, as her mother peered out of the front door to see a taxi, not Kristoff in a Range Rover. ‘We broke up.’

‘WHAAAT?’ screeched Shirley. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

‘I’m not joking,’ said Lucy, who had considered breaking this news by text message so her mother had time to mentally prepare, but had chickened out somewhere around Ealing Broadway. ‘And to be honest, Mum, getting here by train from Heathrow has been an absolute nightmare, so please don’t yell at me.’

‘Elizabeth Line to the Thameslink? Or did you splash out on the Heathrow Express?’ asked Lucy’s father, poking his head through the door that led to the lounge.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Richard, is that really important right now?’ Shirley interrupted, rounding on him.

‘Elizabeth Line,’ said Lucy, rolling her eyes in her dad’s direction. ‘But there were signalling problems at Norwood Junction, so Thameslink was a mess. It probably would’ve been quicker to get the bus.’

‘Mmm, I don’t miss commuting at all,’ muttered Richard. He’d worked as a research scientist for a hospital in London throughout Lucy and Leo’s childhood, but a few years ago he’d been headhunted by a pharmaceutical company closer to home. He worked half the hours for twice the money, but was still battling with the guilt that he’d sold his soul for Big Pharma dollars.

‘But I’ve done Ottolenghi,’ wailed Shirley. ‘Sweet potato shakshuka followed by sticky miso bananas.’

‘It sounds delicious,’ said Lucy, wondering why anyone in their right mind would miso a banana. ‘But I’m afraid Kristoff is on a flight to New York, and we’re no longer a couple. So it’s just me, sorry.’

Lucy held her breath – now she’d said the words out loud, she was squarely faced with the magnitude of her decision and the realisation that she was back to the beginning, relationship-wise. ‘Can you give me ten minutes?’ she asked, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. She dropped her bag in the hall and hurried upstairs before she started to cry or scream or bang her head against a wall.

She gently closed the door to her childhood bedroom, which had in the intervening years been turned into an elegant guest room with a wrought-iron double bed and crisp white sheets. Shirley had wound fairy lights through the bedframe; they were already turned on to create a soft, romantic glow. There were pale pink roses in a vase on the chest of drawers, next to a lit Jo Malone candle that was making the room smell like a fancy hotel. No doubt this was all for Kristoff’s benefit, but that was all over now.

It was the right thing to do, thought Lucy, taking deep, calming breaths. I’m thirty-three, I need more from a relationship than just fun times. I made that decision in February, when I called it a day with Anthony and Marco. This is just the next step on that journey.

‘Darling, are you OK?’ said her mother, poking her concerned face around the bedroom door.

‘I’m fine,’ said Lucy with a weak smile. ‘It’s just been quite a big day.’

‘What happened?’ asked Shirley, sitting down on the bed and wrapping her arm around Lucy’s shoulders. ‘Did Kristoff do something terrible?’

‘No, Mum,’ laughed Lucy. ‘Quite the opposite, actually. Turns out he was madly in love with me.’

‘Really?’ said Shirley, with a tone that suggested she found this deeply unlikely. Lucy took more calming breaths and resisted the temptation to snap back; she was well used to her mother’s withering comments by now, and most of the time they bounced off. ‘I was going to show Kristoff all your baby photos. Did he know about Leo?’

‘Yes,’ said Lucy, wondering whether her mother was planning to check that before she told Kristoff about Lucy’s dead twin brother over coffee and petit fours. ‘Yes, I told him.’

‘It’s a hard thing for other people to understand,’ said Shirley, her hand pressed against her locket.

‘Maybe you and I could look at the photos together,’ said Lucy, feeling like she should make a magnanimous gesture since her mother had gone to such a lot of trouble today.

‘If you like,’ said Shirley. ‘Although when we go down memory lane together, it just makes me wish Leo was here . . . too.’

The pause was a fraction too long, and the word instead hung heavy in the fragranced warmth of the bedroom. Lucy tried to push the stab of pain aside and understand – her mother’s heart had been ripped in two eleven years ago, and what remained belonged to Leo. It was her way of honouring his memory, and Lucy shouldered the rejection because she was still alive, and Leo wasn’t. To be living and breathing AND expect to benefit from the remaining crumbs of her mother’s capacity for love was probably too much to ask. Wasn’t it?

‘Are you going to ask me why we split up?’ asked Lucy.

‘Of course,’ said Shirley, settling her hands in her lap. ‘I’m all ears.’

Lucy relayed their conversation earlier this afternoon as her mother patiently listened, her eyes getting increasingly wide and incredulous.

‘He wanted to marry you?’ asked Shirley. Her tone wasn’t exactly accusatory, but Lucy suspected a lecture about letting go of her one chance at happiness wasn’t far away.

‘Yes,’ said Lucy. ‘Eventually.’

‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ said Shirley. ‘You’re closing the door on what could be the most wonderful life. You know that most women would bite his arm off?’

‘I know that, Mum,’ said Lucy testily. ‘But I don’t love him. I loved being with him, but that’s not the same thing.’

‘No,’ said Shirley softly. ‘It’s not.’