‘But what if they do?’ Charlotte persists. I look over to her little anxious, pinched face. She's been through so much, for all I did to make her childhood precious and safe and pampered, in the end, I couldn't shield her from life.
From the shit it flings at us at times.
I couldn't even shield her from me.
But sometimes I can make things better.
Sometimes I do know what to say.
‘What would you do?’ Charlotte begs. ‘If one of them falls in?’
‘I’d call an ambulance,’ I say.
‘But wouldn't you go over?’
I don't actually know what I'd do. We can all say how we'd react in an emergency, we can all hazard a guess but a guess is all it is. Some of us will be the heroes, standing shivering and wrapped in a blanket on the evening news, insisting that anybody would have done the same.
I wouldn’t.
I don't want to be a hero, because Charlotte doesn't want me to be one.
I can see the fear and the terror in her eyes and I wonder how long it will stay – you see, it's not just about losing her dad, she is so scared of losing me.
‘I think you have to find a big branch,’ Mum tells her. ‘And lie on the grass and stretch it out to them…’
‘But it wouldn't reach!’ Charlotte is frantic with her imagined scenario, she doesn’t just look like me, she thinks like me too. She's watching these robust kids disappear beneath the ice; she's standing by the water’s edge screaming as her mother dashes in to save them. ‘I know you’d do something!’ She tells me about this show she saw once, where everybody had formed a human chain across the ice.
‘Your mum?’ It’s my mum that starts laughing; it’s my mum who’s the hero today. ‘Can you imagine your mum, for even a moment, forming a human chain?’ But that’s exactly what Charlotte is doing and I don't want her to have to worry about me any more, I want her to laugh, I want her to be a kid, I want to be her mum.
‘Me!’ I say. ‘You really think I’d lie on ice, holding onto Nanny’s feet…’
‘Sod that.’ Mum says putting out her fag.
Charlotte starts laughing and we walk away from the lake and towards the car and, if I hear a scream, I’ll just call an ambulance and try to find a big branch. I look over to Mum and I know she’s thinking the same. I know she is because we start running to get to the car and we’re all still laughing.
And no, I won’t lie on ice for anyone but Charlotte – I’m far too important to lose.
And if I sound shallow and superficial, I don’t care.
I know I'm not.
I know what I'm here for now.
And I know why I'm staying.
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
The First Christmas (without him).
Gloria has been here.
There's a bunch of flowers on his grave–it says With love from your girls.
I haven't been here for ages. I've never really wanted to come, rather it was something I felt I ought to do but I actually wanted to come today.
Mum’s at home with Charlotte, I tell him. Today’s already hard enough for her, without bringing her to the cemetery. I hope he can understand that.
She’s doing okay, I tell him.
Things are getting better now. She loves her school, she’s not wetting the bed anymore and we can talk about you at times now, without her crying, we can talk about you and smile.
Oh, and I tell him about the house sale.
He has a right to know.
That for once an estate agent wasn’t lying - he did have the perfect people in mind for the house, but they needed to move in soon, which was great because I put in an offer for the cottage. I tell him how much I got for the house, I am quite sure that somewhere he smiles.
No global financial crisis stops me.
I tell him lots of things, just not about me.
I turn and walk away.
I feel guilty that I'm moving on.
That I’m doing okay without him.
I don’t need to tell him that I’ve halved my medication dose and no, I haven’t gone barking mad. In fact, in the New Year, Dr Patel says we can see how I go without them.
I don’t tell him about Lucy’s Lists and the phone calls that have started to come in.
I don’t have to run my life by him.
It’s mine.
‘Alice rang!’ Charlotte’s all excited when I get back, we’ve been in the cottage for a couple of weeks now and it’s so much smaller. As soon as I walk in I smell the pine of the Christmas tree. ‘She and Hugh are engaged!’ Charlotte's almost dancing on the spot. ‘Do you think I’ll be a bridesmaid?’
‘I don't think so Charlotte.’ I try to let her down before Alice does, I don't want her to build up her hopes but she's never been a bridesmaid before. That would be right – I bet they do ask her and my daughter will finally get to be a bridesmaid and I won't even get to see. I wait for the twist in my stomach, for the churning bitterness towards the Original Jameson Girls and a snake of hate towards Gloria to transpire, except it doesn't come. I’m glad it doesn’t come because I’ve found out that hate leaks into everything, I mean everything. It’s toxic and it’s there even if you can’t see it, and I love that it’s gone, or almost gone.
‘But do you think I might be?’ Charlotte begs.
I love that I can think of my daughter and the best response to her question without that toxic hate leaking into everything, contaminating everything.
I go to the sink and I pour cool water and take a drink and then I speak. ‘Hugh might have a big family, it might be a tiny wedding, she might have it in Australia….’
The phone rings and I pick it up without thinking, then close my eyes because it's Gloria.
‘Oh, sorry,’ she says when she hears my voice and I realise she must have spoken to Alice and assumed that I was still out. ‘I was just ringing to say Happy Christmas to Charlotte, or rather, for Daisy to say Happy Christmas to Charlotte…’
‘Sure.’ God that sounded so brittle, so I change my voice. ‘She’ll love that. Merry Christmas, Gloria.’
‘Merry Christmas, Lucy.’ I call Charlotte and she chats away to my late husband's ex-wife and blows kisses down the phone to her niece and it's too confusing to explain really.
Most confusing for me is that I wish I'd seen Gloria at the cemetery.
I want to talk to her today; I want to ask her how she is feeling. I want to know if it’s killing her to smile as she pulls out the turkey, if she's happy about Alice getting engaged or has it made her think of him and all that he is missing out on?
I can hear Charlotte asking if the wedding is going to be in England, and how big Hugh’s family is. I know where this is leading but instead of tapping her on the shoulder and making a furious face at her and telling her to leave things be, I let her carry on.
Gloria knows how to deal with her and, for a little while, I hand my daughter’s heart over to her, safe in the knowledge that it will be looked after.
‘All right pet?’ Mum asks
‘Fine.’
‘You’re doing a great job.’
Funny, but her words help, Mum’s words really help me, because it is a job. Being a parent is full-time job and I've taken a bit too much time off these past nine months. I’m trying to make up for it, so we put sparklers on the Christmas pudding and we sing all the songs and we all do what we can to get through this day.
I ache to hear his voice.
I do, because despite all the shit, we always managed to cobble together a good Christmas.
We did, and, as I eat my Christmas pudding and smother it in brandy butter, I remember some of them and we talk about some of them too.
But there’s another voice that I ache to hear, so it's a relief when on Christmas night the phone rings.
Just the sound of Luke makes me want to close my eyes and cry.
‘How are you doing?’
‘Getting there,’ I say.
‘How’s Charlotte?’
‘I'll get her for you.’ But he stops me.
‘I was ringing to speak to you too.’ I hear him hesitate. ‘I want to apologise for what happened.’
‘Nothing happened,’ I remind him.
‘Even so, I am truly sorry, Lucy. I was in a bad place.’
‘I know,’ I tell him. ‘I was doing your shopping. Any surprises in your delivery around that time?’
There’s a very long pause and then he starts to laugh.
‘You’re a witch, Lucy.’
‘A good witch now,’ I smile. ‘And yes, you’re forgiven.’
‘How’s Charlotte?’ I’m glad for the change of subject and also it's a relief to talk about her to someone who is on her side. That's what I miss most about her dad, okay he might not have made Husband-of-the-Year, but he was on Charlotte’s side along with me. ‘I think she's okay; the move was a bit stressful. The house just sold so quickly but I think it was the right time and she is happy in the cottage. Just today's been a bit hard. I know she misses him.’ I'm close to tears I realise and I pause and Luke lets me, he doesn't interrupt, he doesn't finish my words, he gives me time to say it. ‘I miss him,’ I admit. ‘Not all the time, but I miss him today.’
‘I miss him today too.’
‘How are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Okay, I guess. Today's been a bit…’ I'm close to tears again, not for me this time though, for him.
‘You miss Jess?’