Chapter 2 Rosie #4
She’d often wondered about marriages that went wrong.
Were they always wrong or did they start out right and then gradually unravel?
But now, for the first time, she could see how a rift might happen.
It was like a tear in a dress. If you didn’t mend it right away, it grew bigger and bigger, until it was too big to fix and the dress was ruined.
Or maybe the problem was that the dress hadn’t fitted in the first place.
She felt a lurch of panic and pushed that thought away. She wasn’t going there.
He stared at the door their neighbours had just closed and she wondered if he was feeling the same sense of envy that she felt.
Maybe not. His family was nothing like hers.
His parents had divorced when he was very young and Declan had stayed with his father.
He’d told her that in a matter-of-fact way when they were exchanging facts about their families.
When she’d asked him about the emotional impact of such a major life upheaval he’d simply shrugged and said he’d been too young to remember much about it.
His mother lived in France, but Rosie had never met her because she hadn’t come to the wedding (a decision that had shocked Rosie but appeared not to disturb Declan at all).
His father lived in Scotland with his stepmother.
Declan saw them once a year. It was a very different picture from her family, who were in constant contact.
Rosie couldn’t imagine only seeing her family once a year.
The thought appalled her. She rarely went two days without speaking to her mother, and all three siblings messaged each other regularly on their group chat (although Becky hadn’t been doing much of that lately).
Rosie had felt sad that Declan had never experienced that same closeness and support, and she’d nurtured a fantasy that her family would become his family. That they’d all blend perfectly.
It hadn’t occurred to her that visiting her family might feel like a duty for him. Something to be endured, not enjoyed.
“Christmas is really not special to you, is it?”
He glanced at her and shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say.
Christmas is not really different from any other time of year, except flights and hotels are eye-wateringly expensive and the office closes whether you want it to or not.
My family doesn’t go for the whole turkey-and-tree experience, you know that. ”
She knew they had different family experiences, but she hadn’t thought it would matter. Now she was wondering if maybe it did. Only now was she really understanding that when you married someone your experiences and wishes had to somehow blend with theirs.
She loved Christmas, and when she’d married Declan she’d assumed their Christmas would look the way it always had when she was single.
A big, noisy family affair. If one day they had children, she’d want to give them the same warm, chaotic festive season that she’d always enjoyed.
She’d want to take them to the forest to choose a tree, just as she had with her parents.
She’d want to buy stockings that would be hung by the fireplace year after year until they were threadbare.
She wanted to reproduce the Christmas she’d had every year of her life.
What if he didn’t want that? What if, in the future, he wanted them all to go and lie on a beach?
What if he said I don’t want to spend Christmas with your family ?
And she realised in that moment that they had much bigger problems than whether his friends liked her.
She adored her family but she was aware that when they were together they were noisy and demonstrative. Personal space wasn’t really a thing in her house. What if he found them overwhelming? What if, instead of making him want to repeat the experience, he decided he never wanted to do it again?
She couldn’t imagine not getting together with her family at Christmas.
“Rosie?”
“Sorry. I was just thinking.” And this time she wasn’t going to tell him what she was thinking.
They’d go, and she’d make sure he had the very best time. Yes, that was a good plan.
How could he not love Christmas at her home?
The Mill House was gorgeous at Christmas and would be even more magical now that they’d had snow.
The thought of going home lifted her spirits.
It was just what she needed. The moment she turned into the long driveway that led to her family home, she felt a sense of security.
It was nothing to do with the building, of course, but the people.
Her wonderful parents. Her grandparents.
Her siblings. Whenever anything had gone wrong in her life they’d been there ready to cushion the blow.
“Do you want me to ask my parents if we can have separate bedrooms? Then you can have your own space if you need it?”
“What? No!” He sounded appalled by the suggestion. “That would raise questions, and that’s the last thing we need.”
Questions. It would raise questions. Not I want to be with you, Rosie. I can’t sleep without you there.
“I just—”
“Enough! We’re doing this. We’ve bought the presents. We’ve packed the car. We already had this discussion and agreed to it. It’s the right thing to do. Don’t worry, I’ll survive.”
I’ll survive.
“Okay then. Wake up those reindeer.” She made a supreme effort to feel festive. “Let’s go, or we won’t get there before Santa.”
Declan gave her a look that clearly said I don’t understand you . Then he started the engine, checked his mirrors and pulled out into the snow-covered road.
Rosie slumped in her seat. She’d been looking forward to Christmas for ages, and now it promised to be a total disaster.
Merry Christmas, Rosie.