‘Why are you acting so weird?’ she asked. ‘I’ve not been here this afternoon.’

  ‘Shhh, keep your voice down,’ I whispered, nervously looking towards the kitchen door. ‘I know you haven’t been here today.’

  ‘So why does Henry think I have?’

  ‘Because if anyone asks, you were here all afternoon helping me to put up the decorations.’

  ‘Have you been drinking?’ she asked, picking up the empty bottle of Chablis from the kitchen table.

  ‘Maybe a little this afternoon, but believe me I’ve sobered up very quickly in the last ten minutes.’

  ‘Chablis. Very nice! Not just your average bottle of cheap plonk.’

  ‘Marcus brought it round,’ I whispered.

  Ann raised her eyebrows. ‘Marcus, eh?’ she said, pulling off her gloves and sitting down at the kitchen table.

  ‘He helped me decorate the tree and put the lights up outside, that’s all. Let’s face it, if I’d have waited for Henry to help me, next Christmas would already be here,’ I said, trying to justify myself.

  ‘You best switch that kettle on and explain yourself.’ She shook her head slightly and smirked in my direction.

  I was struggling to keep the smile off my face.

  ‘It’s nothing, really. After we took Frank for a walk this morning…’

  ‘So you’re walking dogs with him and decorating trees?’ Ann interrupted.

  ‘Tree – one tree, and yes he invited me on an early-morning walk,’ I said, placing two steaming mugs of tea on the table and sitting down next to her.

  Ann tilted her head to one side, something she often did to encourage you to keep speaking.

  ‘Ann, stop looking at me like that!’

  Ann laughed and blew on her cuppa to cool it down. She took a quick swig then looked straight into my eyes. ‘I think you have a sparkle in your eyes, one I haven’t seen for a long time.’

  I hesitated for a moment too long.

  ‘I knew it! You have got the hots for Marcus.’

  ‘Shhh, Henry will hear you!’ In spite of myself, I was beaming at her.

  Ann leant back on her chair and folded her arms. ‘Come on, spill.’

  The words were almost out before I knew what I was going to say. ‘We…’

  ‘You’re what?’ she said, leaning forward.

  ‘We’re just friends,’ I said. ‘But I do like his company and we get on so well.’

  ‘Does Henry know you’ve been out walking with Marcus?’

  ‘No, of course he doesn’t.’

  ‘Mmmm, why not? If you’re keeping this from Henry, my educated guess is it’s maybe a little bit more than just good friends?’ She stared at me, waiting for an answer.

  I hesitated. ‘I really like him, but it’s difficult to explain.’

  ‘Try me,’ Ann said without hesitation.

  I fiddled with the handle of the mug.

  ‘Marcus makes me feel at ease, our conversations just flow and he looks at me in a way no one has for a long time.’

  ‘OMG, has he made a move on you?’ Ann squealed.

  ‘Shhh, Ann. Keep your voice down. Henry will hear you,’ I said again, nodding towards the kitchen door, my eyes wide.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said in a whisper.

  ‘And no, of course he hasn’t made a move on me. I’m married.’

  ‘But have you thought about him in a romantic way?’

  I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded sheepishly.

  ‘Lizzie!’ Ann exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. ‘You need to be careful,’ she said in a hushed whisper. ‘Not only does he live next door – which complicates matters enough – but how long do you think it’ll take Henry to notice you’re hovering around the kitchen window night and day, trying to catch a glimpse of him?’

  Deep in my heart I knew exactly what my dear friend was trying to tell me, and I knew she was right. I knew full well the thoughts I was having about Marcus shouldn’t even be crossing my mind.

  ‘Anyway, was everything OK when Will walked you home?’ I asked, changing the subject quickly.

  Before Ann could answer the kitchen door swung open and Henry was standing in the doorway. ‘What’s all the commotion about?’

  His appearance startled me. I blinked. My mouth opened briefly and I closed it again. He turned to face me, his eyes dark and unreadable.

  ‘Commotion?’ Ann queried.

  ‘Yes – all the girly squealing. I can hear it across the hallway.’

  ‘Oh sorry, Henry, that was my fault. I was just telling Lizzie that I have the day off work tomorrow. The school’s still closed and now the boiler’s gone on the blink with all this severe weather, so we’re going to hit the shops for a spot of lunch and Christmas shopping.’

  ‘Very nice,’ Henry said. ‘And how’re Dave and Leo?’ he asked, leaning against the kitchen worktop and looking earnestly towards the oven.

  ‘Dave is working up to Christmas Eve. Everyone seems to want something doing before the holidays, and I’m looking forward to Leo coming home for Christmas. He should be back very soon,’ Ann replied, a smile on her face.

  ‘The girls will be home soon too and that’s when all the chaos begins. Even though we wouldn’t change it for the world, would we, Lizzie?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m counting the days.’ I smiled at Henry.

  ‘Is tea nearly ready?’ he asked.

  ‘Here, wait there, I’ll dish it up for you,’ I offered, feeling a little guilty for the first time today that Henry had actually been out to work while I’d been enjoying myself.

  ‘I’ll get out of your way and let you pair eat your tea in peace,’ Ann said, standing up and drinking the last of her tea.

  ‘Lovely to see you, Ann,’ Henry said, taking the tray from my hands and disappearing back into the front room with his tea.

  ‘Phew! That was close,’ Ann whispered once Henry was out of sight.

  I quickly ran over the conversation in my head, ‘Too close for my liking, Ann. Do you think he heard us?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she replied, shaking her head.

  ‘Anyway, what did you actually come round for?’ I asked, still feeling anxious.

  ‘Exactly that. I’m off work tomorrow, so do you fancy a day Christmas shopping? It’s better than sitting around all day drinking wine,’ she grinned.

  ‘Ha, I’m in. What time are you thinking?’

  ‘Let’s make a day of it. I’ll pick you up after ten.’

  I nodded. ‘That sounds like a plan.’

  ‘And you can fill me in on all of today’s antics,’ she said, winking as she disappeared out the front door and into the chill of the night.

  20

  The next morning, the news was full of headlines about a skiing accident in the French Alps. An unexpected avalanche had caused the tragedy. One person was already confirmed dead and numerous families were missing. I watched the reports with tears in my eyes – all that worry and heartache so close to Christmas.

  My thoughts turned towards the girls. I hadn’t managed to ring them yesterday; I’d been too distracted by Marcus.

  I desperately wanted to hear their voices. Reaching for my phone, I scrolled down the contact list until I found Freya’s name and pressed the dial button. It rang three times before she picked up.

  ‘Are you keeping tabs on me?’

  I cast my eyes upwards and smiled. Freya always greeted me the same way, an affectionate in-joke between ourselves.

  ‘Someone has to,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘Have you seen the news?’ Freya said.

  ‘Yes, it’s awful, isn’t it? That’s what’s prompted me to ring. I was watching it just now and of course missing you dreadfully.’

  ‘It’s not long ’til I’m home, Mum. There was heavy snow here through the night but it just looks grey and dull again now. I’ve never known snow like it.’

  ‘Me neither. How are Peter and his parents?’

  ‘Yes, they’re all OK, but I’m ready to come home. Don’t get me wrong, they’re lovely people, but it’s just not the same as being at home. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed.’

  ‘You have clean sheets on the bed waiting and I’ve had a good tidy-up.’

  ‘Perfect, I can’t wait.’

  ‘Do you know which day you and Peter are coming back?’

  Freya hesitated. ‘There’s been a change of plan,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Why? You are coming home for Christmas, aren’t you?’ I asked, feeling sudden palpitations in my chest as I waited nervously for her to answer.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘I was worried there for a moment!’ I exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘What about Peter?’

  ‘I think he’s decided to stay with his parents for Christmas.’

  This was strange – they’d both been so excited to be spending Christmas here. ‘Is everything OK, love?’

  Freya’s voice was tense. ‘Yes, everything’s fine.’

  My gut instinct told me it wasn’t. ‘Are you sure? You don’t sound fine?’ I asked, concerned.

  ‘Honestly, Mum, don’t worry about me.’

  ‘But I do worry – that’s still my job,’ I said with a smile.

  ‘I know and really, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Look, I’m sorry to cut you short but I can’t talk now. We’re all going out for a morning walk and everyone’s nearly ready. I’ll text you soon, I promise.’

  ‘OK, I love you,’ I said.

  ‘I love you more!’ she replied.

  I smiled. For as long as I could remember we’d always start and end our phone conversations the same way. It was the little things in life that gave me joy.

  ‘Bye, Freya.’

  ‘Bye, Mum.’

  I dialled Abbie’s number next but she didn’t pick up and it went to answerphone.

  ‘Hi, Abbie, it’s only Mum. I’m just checking you’re OK. Please give me a quick ring,’ I said after the beep and put my phone back on the table.

  I wasn’t worried that Abbie didn’t answer. She wasn’t as reliable as Freya and usually she would also forget to ring back. However, recently her money-management skills were non-existent and she was always running out of credit on her phone.

  When the girls were young, Henry and I had devised a pocket-money chart that we Blu-Tacked to the kitchen door. Every household chore was worth a small amount and each day they’d mark off the jobs they’d done. Every Friday, when Henry returned from work, they’d stand excitedly by the chart as he totted up how much money they’d each earned. Abbie’s money always burnt a hole in her pocket, and you could guarantee that she’d have spent it all by the Saturday afternoon. Freya, on the other hand, saved and saved until her piggy bank was bursting with coins, then she’d take great delight in counting it all and taking it to the bank to deposit in her savings account.

  Freya and Abbie were like chalk and cheese. If you walked past them in the street you wouldn’t realise they were even sisters. Freya resembled me in looks, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, and Abbie was definitely her father’s daughter, with her darker features. The reason we’d tried so soon for another baby after Abbie was because she was a difficult child and barely slept. As we were already suffering from sleep deprivation, we’d decided if we were already up with one child, we might as well be up with two. There was a method to our madness. Even though their personalities were completely different, they’d always remained close. Abbie was more of an outdoors child. Always off somewhere on her bike or climbing trees with Leo, while Freya was the silent, sensitive type who preferred to snuggle up with a cosy blanket and lose herself in a good book.

  I was absolutely delighted when Freya chose to attend the same university as Abbie. Even though Abbie was the eldest, it was always Freya who was level-headed and ensured common sense prevailed in any given situation.

  I opened the pantry door to find Gary staring back at me.

  ‘So what will today bring, Mr Barlow?’ I asked.

  Without fail, he had a smile on his face every morning. Taking a pen, I struck off Monday 7 December and closed the door.

  I popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and made a quick cup of tea. The clock was ticking; it would only be ten minutes or so before Ann skidded her car up the cul-de-sac to collect me. I was just hoping she managed to stop the car before she churned up the front garden or ran over my rose bush – which had enough to deal with fighting the winter frost. Ann wasn’t the most sensible driver in the world. I spread jam onto my toast and took a bite as I switched the TV off. Hearing my phone beep, I glanced at the screen.

  My very first text message from Marcus. We’d swapped numbers yesterday afternoon after I’d mentioned to him that I might pop into town later in the week. I’d spotted the most exquisite material I’d ever clapped eyes on in the sewing shop under the clock tower. Usually they had a sale before Christmas and this was when I’d pick up numerous fabrics at bargain prices. Even though I had nothing in mind to make from the material I’d seen, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and knew it would come in handy one day.

  Marcus had suggested I let him know when I was in town so if he was free we could meet up for a coffee in the department-store restaurant.

  I smiled reading his text.

  ‘I hope you slept well. What are you up to today?’

  Funnily enough I’d slept like a log – the best night’s sleep I’d had in a very long time. Last night, before I’d climbed into bed, I’d wandered across to the window and looked out towards Marcus’s house. His living-room curtains were open and I could see the flames from his log fire were still dancing strong. I’d felt all fuzzy and warm inside remembering the day we’d shared together.

  Then, without warning he’d appeared at the window. It was like he had a sixth sense where I was concerned and knew I was watching. He looked up and I caught his eye. For a moment we stared at each other, smiling, before I disappeared off to bed. I felt for Marcus, I really did. The past year must have been completely soul-destroying for him. Losing his wife in such tragic circumstances would have been bad enough but what about all those unanswered questions he must have whirling around in his head about her infidelity? With the devastation of the crash, he would never understand why it had happened. For the past twelve months, he’d been all over the place emotionally. Who could blame him? I wasn’t sure how well I would cope if life threw the same circumstances my way. I didn’t even want to think about it.

  But hopefully, Marcus was now beginning to steer his life in a better direction, and returning to work would help him focus his mind. Maybe in time he would learn to be happy again.

  I tapped out a quick reply: ‘Very well, thank you. Ann and I are off into town for a spot of Christmas shopping.’

  ‘How about lunch at the store? I could reserve a table for you both.’

  What a lovely idea. ‘Sounds wonderful. See you around midday? Thank you.’

  ‘Fantastic. Would this be a good time to ask a favour?’

  What favour would Marcus possibly need to ask me?

  ‘Go on, I’m intrigued.’ I typed with one hand while eating my toast with the other.

  I waited patiently for the next text.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t be asking you this, but how would you feel about coming to my work’s Christmas party with me this Friday night?’

  I stared at the screen and reread the text.

  How did I feel about attending his Christmas party with him? The answer was quite simple – I was full to bursting with excitement yet nervous about the invitation. How could I possibly accompany him to such an event?

  My heart pounded as I mulled it over. I didn’t know what to answer. While my heart said yes, my head said no, but I was already mentally browsing up and down my clothes rail in search of the perfect outfit to wear, though nothing suitable sprung to mind.

  Opening the pantry door, I gazed at Gary. ‘What do you think, Mr Barlow?’

  Gary was obviously as taken aback as I was by the invitation because he remained silent.

  ‘You aren’t much use,’ I said, closing the pantry door again while I battled with my conscience. How would it even be possible to go with Marcus? I was married to Henry, and sloping off to a party with another man was not acceptable behaviour.

  So why did I want to go so much?

  A horn beeping interrupted my thoughts. Glancing through the window I saw Ann’s car was parked outside. Thankfully she’d managed to miss the rose bush.

  I dithered on the spot for a moment. I had no clue what to reply to Marcus. There was nothing else for it – I’d talk it over with Ann and reply later.

  I slipped my phone into my pocket and grabbed my coat and handbag from the hallway. I waved hello to Ann as I stepped out the front door and walked carefully towards the car. The pavement was like an ice rink and it didn’t look like it was going to thaw any time soon. I tried to manoeuvre my way down the path without slipping, Marcus’s text still very much on my mind.

  There was a part of me that was flattered that he’d invited me to his Christmas party. It was a lovely gesture. When was the last time I’d ever attended a Christmas party? I cast my mind back but I couldn’t actually remember. For the past twenty years, Henry’s Christmas work night out had been considered unsuitable for the wives. Believe me, I hadn’t ever had any desire to go and, if the truth be known, a night in by myself with a bottle of wine and a bar of fruit-and-nut chocolate hit the spot better than Henry did at the moment. But I always got the low-down on the men’s misdemeanours from Ann, who’d be updated by Dave. Usually it involved drinking copious amounts of lager, a strip club and a greasy kebab. They knew how to enjoy themselves, allegedly.

  When I climbed into Ann’s car I noticed she was extremely cheery for such a cold and miserable day.

  ‘Good morning! Are we ready to shop ’til we drop?’ she asked excitedly.

  ‘Blooming heck, you’re full of the joys of spring,’ I commented.

  Ann glanced over at me. ‘That’s because there’s no teaching of little people today, and an early morning phone call with Leo has put me in a very good mood. Roll on Christmas! I can’t wait to see him.’