The Night Before Christmas (6 page)

Which was why it came as something of a surprise to find him standing in Katy’s hallway.

Chapter Five

‘So, this is Alex.’ Lydia watched, frozen to the spot, as Joanna introduced Jackson, Jack, or whatever he was calling himself these days, to all of her friends. ‘Alex is pregnant,’ Joanna added in her honeyed, TV-friendly tones.

‘I’m sure the man’s got eyes,’ Alex said, smiling and shaking Jack’s hand.

‘I was just making sure he didn’t think you were simply fat,’ Joanna teased her, tucking her arm through his as she guided ‘Jack’ on.

‘This is David, Alex’s victim, I mean husband. And this is Katy and her husband, Jim, our lovely hosts. This young man is Jakey, and this little delight is Tilly. That smelly article is Vincent Van Dog, because he’s only got one ear, although as far as we know he doesn’t suffer from any sort of personality disorder. Oh, and this is Stephen and …’ Lydia felt all of the air sucked out of her lungs in the fraction of a second it took for Joanna to propel ‘Jack’ towards her. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed her when he first came in; after all, Joanna hadn’t allowed him to take a breath. This would be the moment, the moment of recognition … and then what?

‘Lydia, this is Jack, isn’t he hot?’ Joanna smiled. And Jack nodded at Lydia, extending his hand, the warm, strong hand that had once caressed her, in a formal greeting.

‘Very pleased to meet you, Linda,’ he said, without even a hint of what they had once been to each other showing on his face. Unable to dissemble so quickly, Lydia just stared at him, her hand lying limply in his, as her brain struggled to process what was happening. Had he forgotten her? Was she one among so many that faces simply became a blur to him? Or was he merely going to pretend not only that he’d never once kissed her naked body from head to toe as she lay sprawled on his staircase, but that they had never even met before?

‘Lydia, darling, her name’s Lydia.’ Joanna laughed. ‘Oh dear, I think you’ve offended her.’

‘I beg your pardon.’ Jackson held on to her hand. ‘Lydia is such a pretty name.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Lydia said, recovering a little and pulling her hand out of his, glancing around at her friends, laughing, talking, slapping shoulders, shaking hands. For a moment, she felt like one of the ghosts of Christmas, present but invisible, unable to take part. Or no, not the ghost, like Scrooge, looking in on the life he could never be part of. This was supposed to be her perfect Christmas, the first one ever. Now she couldn’t think of any other way that it
could be less perfect. The single most humiliating and hurtful moment of her life had been wrapped up in gorgeous packaging and delivered at her feet.

‘Right, well …’ Joanna broke the moment, taking off her coat and flinging it casually over the reception desk. ‘We could stand about here all day gawping at my stunning boyfriend like idiots, or we could get on with the business of Christmas cheer. Point me in the direction of the mulled wine, at once!’

Frantically gathering what was left of her wits, Lydia waited for a moment as her little group of cherished friends, plus one, moved from the hallway, following Katy towards the sitting room, Jake already regaling Jackson with some tall tale about monsters in the lake.

After a moment, she felt something tugging her, and looking down she saw Tilly, still decked out in tinsel, her vest peeking out from under her homemade fairy outfit.

‘Are you okay, Aunty Lydia?’ Tilly asked her. ‘You look very surprised.’

‘I am very surprised,’ Lydia said, shaking her head. ‘I am very surprised indeed.’

‘Did you see a ghost?’ Tilly asked her, wide-eyed, still clinging on to Lydia, gazing into the dark corners under the stairs. ‘Was it Mad Molly?’

‘I didn’t see a ghost, Tilly,’ Lydia said, remembering the feel of Jackson’s hand in hers. ‘No, he very definitely wasn’t dead. Not yet anyway.’

By the time Lydia and Tilly caught up with the others, they had moved from the sitting room into the dining room. Lydia was grateful to see that Joanna and Jackson weren’t present, at least for the moment. Joanna had probably gone to change into some designer ensemble for dinner: it was one of her foibles. Sometimes she even dressed for dinner when it was a takeaway from the local Chinese. Joanna would rarely be drawn on what little family life she had as a child was like before her parents handed her over to boarding schools. Lydia only knew that it had been exceptionally privileged, if markedly lacking in parental love. The absence of a conventional happy family was one of the main things that bound the two totally different women together, even if they did come from entirely different sides of the tracks. That and the man they had now unwittingly shared. The terrible thing was that Lydia was sure Joanna would be in for the same treatment as her. She had to warn her – but when? Which part of Christmas should she ruin first?

Katy had opened up what would soon be the guest dining room to accommodate them all, arranging the selection of tables in one row and covering it with a long red paper tablecloth, candles and Kirsty Allsopp-inspired, make-your-own crackers. Katy, being Katy, had run up a gingham-themed runner that afternoon, decorating it with appliqué holly leaves and sprinkling little silver stars over the place settings. It looked
beautiful, Lydia thought, a small lump forming in her throat; just how she imagined a Dickensian Christmas table would look. (If
A Christmas Carol
had been styled by Disney.)

‘Please excuse the paper tablecloth,’ Katy said, as she observed the overall effect of her work. ‘I thought I’d save my best linen for the big day. I have to take everything to the dry cleaners in Keswick to get the stains off, as the washing machine we’ve currently got here is literally one step up from a mangle. The industrial one doesn’t arrive until the New Year.’

‘We helped Mummy make the crackers!’ said Tilly proudly.

‘I wrote the jokes,’ added Jake.

‘Are the cracker jokes funny, Jake?’ David asked, winking at the boy as he pulled out a chair for his wife.

‘Really hilarious,’ Jake told him seriously, bagging the seat next to Alex, who looked first at him, grinning up at her, and then longingly at the forbidden wine. Lydia hung back, standing in the doorway as she watched her friends chatting and bustling about, picking chairs around the long table. A natural order soon emerged: all the girls would be seated at one end, with all the boys at the other, the need for a good catch-up far outweighing any boy, girl, boy, girl protocol.

‘Excuse me.’ Lydia jumped as she heard Jackson’s voice in her ear. Hurriedly, she stepped out of his way as he walked into the room followed by Joanna, her
friend wearing a chic, backless little black dress that stopped just about mid thigh, to make the most of her long slender legs.

‘Chop, chop, Lyds, I’m ravenous,’ Joanna said, eyeing Jackson. ‘Go and sit with the men, Jack, darling. You boys can bond while we girls catch up.’

‘Enjoy it while you can.’ Stephen grinned at the newcomer in their midst as he obediently took a seat where he was told. ‘Once this lot get together, it becomes impossible to get a word in.’

Jack chuckled, revealing the dimple under his chin, the one Lydia used to kiss and put her finger on as they lay in bed, face to face, talking, laughing. He seemed utterly at ease, taking his banishment to the boys’ end of the table in good spirits, sitting, much to Lydia’s horror, next to Stephen. Covertly, she watched the two of them as Stephen offered to fill Jackson’s glass, and they exchanged a few friendly words.

It wasn’t fair to say that Jackson was better-looking than Stephen, he wasn’t, not really. If anything, he was maybe a couple of inches shorter, and his cheekbones weren’t quite so perfectly cut. Stephen was too busy saving the world to work out, which Jackson had to do in order to maintain the six-pack that Lydia had run her fingers over more than once, although, in the brief time she’d known him, she never saw him go to a gym. Stephen was funny when he wanted to be, and sweet sometimes. And when the moment was right,
which it admittedly hadn’t been for many months, he could be a thoughtful, careful lover. He was loyal, steadfast, honourable and reliable. He’d never skip the country, or at least pretend to, in order to get rid of her. And yet, as she watched the two of them make polite, manly conversation, she knew it wasn’t the sight of her boyfriend that was making her heart thunder in her chest.

‘Come on, Lyds, stop hovering,’ Katy ordered from the head of the table. ‘Jim will be arriving any minute with the food. Come and sit down.’

Of course, there was only one chair left vacant at the table, positioned with Joanna on the right and Jackson on the left.

Jackson smiled at her politely as she took her seat, betraying no flicker of recognition. Had he truly forgotten her? Lydia wondered. Maybe he told all the women he got into bed that they were his one and only. He looked at her now with the same polite interest that a stranger would, before turning to ask David about what sort of history he taught, prompting friendly groans from Stephen. Jim arrived with a large dish of steaming lasagne in his oven-gloved hands, and Lydia’s stomach rumbled in spite of its current state of turmoil, as the rich scent of tomato and garlic filled her nostrils.

Now seeming much more relaxed, Katy reminded Tilly that the silver star confetti liberally scattered on the table was not to be inserted into noses, and Jake
that he had to wait until he was eighteen before he could try wine, no matter how much he pleaded, as she piled food onto every one’s plates. Lydia looked down at the sumptuous – if homely-looking – feast, but didn’t know if she could take a bite. How was it possible that Jackson – her Jackson, despite his new diminutive – was here, sitting next to her, pretending he’d never met her, let alone whispered in her ear that he would always love her?

Her mind was reeling: he was
here
, now, at this very minute. Not where she’d always imagined him, in New York, when she’d allowed herself to think of him at all. In New York, taking care of whatever emergency it was that had wrenched him away from her. Gazing wistfully out of some skyscraper window and perhaps missing her and wishing he hadn’t accidentally dropped his phone in the Hudson and somehow was unable to contact her through any of the many means of modern communication. Lydia had known it was a foolish fantasy, that, really he’d simply left her, but it was one that just occasionally she had allowed herself to indulge in, until now. Now she could never again imagine him somewhere far away, longing for her, because he was
here
.

Which drew her rattling towards the conclusion that he’d lied about leaving London, and that he’d most probably lied about the family emergency, making her feel all the more foolish for letting herself treasure the memories of the those six short weeks.

Lydia turned to look at Jackson, who was looking interested as David explained his theory on the truth about Dark Age Britain, nodding, inserting little ‘uh-huhs’ and ‘Oh, reallys?’ as David talked. It was impossible to take in.

‘Wine?’ Joanna tapped her on the shoulder, winking at her as she filled her glass with Merlot, whispering in her ear, ‘Darling, isn’t he wonderful? I know I’ve never been able to settle down in the past, but I’m telling you, this man … this man is something special. It’s only been a couple of months, but already it’s like we’re made for each other. He really knows me, better then I know myself, almost. It’s an incredible feeling, isn’t it, to be really understood?’

Lydia nodded, watching Joanna’s face light up with something she had never seen before, something akin to hope. ‘I honestly think, this time, this is the real thing,’ Joanna, went on,
sotto voce
. ‘I really do. In fact, don’t tell the others, but I think,
I hope
, that a proposal over Christmas might be on the cards! Eeek!’ She shrieked like a little girl.

With some force of will, Lydia bent her mouth into the approximation of a smile, swallowing the bitter taste that rose in her throat. ‘I’m so pleased for you, Joanna.’

Joanna’s smile faded as she observed her friend’s expression.

‘What is it? What’s wrong, darling?’ Joanna asked
her, concerned. ‘Is it Stephen? Aren’t things going well for you two? How typical of me to be all gushing and smug, without taking a second to find out how you are?’

‘No, not at all,’ Lydia heard herself say, as if from a distance. She leaned in close. ‘Actually, promise to keep this to yourself, I found an engagement ring in his sock drawer. I’m expecting a proposal any minute too.’

‘Oh!’ Joanna’s cry of delight turned all heads towards her as she hugged Lydia, seeming not to notice her stiff shoulders.

‘What?’ Katy demanded. ‘Share at once, you two!’

‘Yes, what are you two brewing up between you?’ Alex asked, raising a brow.

‘Nothing!’ Joanna smiled triumphantly. ‘All we’re saying is, watch this space, right, Lyds?’

‘Right.’ Lydia nodded, artificially bright. ‘That’s all we’re saying!’

‘Sounds interesting,’ Jackson said. It took Lydia a moment or two to realise he was talking directly to her. Slowly, she turned and looked at him.

‘Yes,’ she said, unable to hide the strain in her voice. ‘Things around here are suddenly very interesting indeed.’

‘Can we talk?’ Jack asked her, his voice pitched low, beneath the chatter around the table.

‘I really have nothing to say,’ Lydia managed to reply.

‘But …’

‘So, Jack, what sort of work do you do?’ Stephen interrupted them. ‘Something more interesting than digging up pots?’

‘Publishing,’ Jackson said. ‘I spend all day with demanding, glamorous English women, it’s trained me perfectly for life with Joanna.’

Amid the laughter, Lydia abruptly scraped back her chair back and stood up.

‘Do you know what, I’ve suddenly got a really terrible headache. I think I might go and get an early night …’

‘Are you okay, love?’ Stephen asked her, topping up his glass with more wine.

‘No, I mean, yes, it’s nothing. It’s just … I think I must be car sick, you know, like, delayed? Delayed car sickness, that’ll be it. I get it all the time. I just feel like I really need to go to bed and lie down.’ She picked up an unopened bottle of wine and tried to tuck it surreptitiously under her arm. ‘I just need a hot bath and an early night.’ Everyone groaned.