Chapter Seven
Jessica had been home for four days. It was Thursday and she woke up to the sound of banging and clattering downstairs.
It was still dark, and when she picked up her phone on the bedside table, the illuminated screen said it was a little after eight.
Pulling the covers up around her shoulders, she thought about life in London, just last week.
If she was still there, she would be sitting at her desk by now, with a bucket of coffee next to her.
It was strange to be tucked up in bed in her childhood bedroom.
For a fleeting moment, she felt as though she was falling, with no idea where she might land.
For years, her focus on her career had kept propelling her through life.
But now, as she rolled onto her side, Jessica acknowledged that she wasn’t missing work in the way she had assumed she would.
Once upon a time the thought of taking an extended period of leave would have horrified her, and when she was on holiday, she would have kept her phone on and dealt with any problems with clients.
That was the expectation if you wanted to make partner and rise up the ranks.
And she didn’t mind as her job had always been everything.
She worked and studied hard to get to where she was, and her career had validated her.
Since the events of last Christmas, she was grateful that work had given her purpose and focus and a reason to get up in the morning.
On many occasions she had told herself how lucky she was.
She had somewhere to go each day and something to do.
She had people who needed her. In fact, they relied on her.
What would this past year have been like if she hadn’t had work?
She shuddered when she thought how desolate she would have been.
Knowing she needed to get up and face the day each morning had definitely helped to keep the feelings of dread and doom at bay.
She closed her eyes, hoping she could turn over and go back to sleep for a little while.
But then the clattering started again. What on earth was going on?
She lay for a few more minutes wondering if her mum had taken up plate smashing, before realising she was emptying the dishwasher.
Very noisily. She could hear the drawers closing and shutting as Catriona threw in the knives and the forks and spoons.
Jessica wondered if she was standing at the front door and launching them from there.
It was making an absolute racket. Then the radio was switched on.
Sighing, she threw back the covers. It was no use.
She may as well get up. She wouldn’t be surprised if the blender was switched on, too, for good measure.
She laughed and shook her head. No chance of a lie-in this morning.
Pulling on her dressing gown, she padded downstairs.
‘Good morning,’ said her dad in surprise. He smiled warmly. ‘You’re up early, dear.’ He was sitting at the kitchen table tucking into a bowl of porridge, and he put his spoon down.
‘Hi, Dad. Yes, I could hear you were both up and about . . .’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘Oops, sorry, Jess,’ said her mum, standing at the sink.
‘Did we wake you? We keep forgetting that not everyone is an early riser. We’re so used to our own wee routine.
And you must have slept through it every other morning.
Maybe it’s a sign you’re getting back to your old self and ready to be up with the lark? ’
Jessica laughed and sat down next to her dad. ‘Hmm, maybe.’
‘A wee cup of tea?’ asked her mum, automatically pouring it anyway without waiting for an answer. She placed the mug in front of Jessica.
‘Thanks.’ She wrapped her hands around it, enjoying the feel of the warmth, and then took a sip of the liquid.
She had forgotten just how much she loved the taste of tea at home.
The water here was so much softer than the hard water in London, which left a murky film around the mug and the kettle full of limescale.
She yawned as she considered whether to head back upstairs with her tea and disappear under the covers again.
‘So what’s the plan today, love?’ asked her mum.
She shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Just chilling I think.’ Her dad gave her a look as though to say, good luck with that. Sitting down for more than five minutes had never been a family trait in this house.
‘Seeing as you’re up, do you fancy coming . . .’
She inwardly groaned. This could go anywhere. What was her mum going to suggest? The sauna or her craft group or another new hobby she hadn’t yet mentioned. ‘Hmm . . .’ She felt her stomach sink then took a deep breath and reminded herself her mum was trying to help.
Her dad threw her a sympathetic look. ‘It is quite early, Catriona, and she is meant to be here for a rest. It’s still dark out.’
Catriona regarded her for a moment. ‘True. But I didn’t mean right this minute,’ she said huffily. ‘I was just trying to make a plan. Okay, go back to bed for a while,’ she said, clapping her hands together. ‘You can come and get the tree with us later.’
Phew, thought Jessica. ‘Okay, you have yourself a deal, Mum.’
‘We’ll head off about ten . . .’
Jessica forced a jovial nod, and then went upstairs with her tea.
The thought of going to buy the Christmas tree would once have excited her.
But as she lay back down on her bed, her mind started to race as she thought about last Christmas again.
She picked up her phone and scrolled through her Instagram feed.
It was rammed with uplifting and cheery reels and pictures from people fully embracing the festive season even though it was only the start of December.
Throwing it down on the bed, she was again reminded that, although she knew plenty of people, how many real friends did she have?
She pressed her lips together as she thought about her last close friend from university, Lana, who had ended up sleeping with the long-term boyfriend she had before she met Tim.
Which was why she struggled to open up and talk properly with friends.
She hadn’t spoken to anyone about what had really happened with Tim and that was part of the problem.
At the time, she had told her flatmate, Kristen, some of the story.
Although Kristen had been sympathetic to start with, she had then started travelling a lot with work and was hardly in the flat.
Which had suited Jessica as she had been able to pull on her ‘really, I’m fine’ mask in the brief times they were together.
And work had been an excuse for leaving early in the morning and staying late at night.
But then something had happened at work which meant she’d had to share some of what had happened with her colleague, Freda.
She knew she should really talk to her mum and that it would most probably help.
But she didn’t want to worry her parents any more than she already was by being back home.
She was thirty-two years old and supposed to be a successful independent career woman.
She just needed to get on with it. Although she didn’t know what it was any more.
She had forgotten who she was and where she was going.
After last year she had vowed not to celebrate Christmas again.
In fact, she now hated Christmas, and the ‘h’ word was one she didn’t use lightly.
Her friends had always described her as being a three-quarters full kind of person, which said a lot about her, having worked as a lawyer and living in a world where everything was either black or white.
It was fair to say she had seen the absolute worst side of humanity and more.
Yet she had always managed to find a positive gloss.
Not any more though. Which was sad, as she had always loved Christmas and what it meant to her: As a child, the smell of her gran’s Christmas cake; her mum’s crumbly mince pies; the trip to Princes Square in Glasgow to see the carol singers; hot chocolate and ice skating in George Square.
Then, as she got older, the brisk winter walks up Conic Hill and admiring the view across Loch Lomond were among the highlights at this time of year.
She had even managed to embrace the magic of Christmas in London.
Despite her pressurised job, she loved seeing the lights glittering as she walked home from work, enjoyed ice skating at Hampton Court Palace, and on that trip to New York she had loved seeing the lights and window displays as she walked down Fifth Avenue.
But that was then and this was now. It was amazing how quickly things could change.
Being back home was supposed to rejuvenate her or recharge her batteries. She reminded herself she should be making the most of this enforced break from the office. There was no point in lying in bed and feeling sorry for herself. She needed to get up and keep moving.
* * *
Just over an hour later, showered and dressed, she went downstairs to find her parents ready and waiting.
‘Aha, there you are,’ said her dad, pulling on his coat and gloves. ‘It’s cold out so make sure you wrap up. This will be fun.’
Jessica couldn’t help shaking her head fondly. She felt as though she was a little girl again and a vivid memory of her dad taking her sledging floated through her mind. She smiled at the thought.
‘You haven’t eaten anything,’ said her mum with a frown. ‘Shall I make you some toast before we go?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks, Mum. I’m fine. Honestly. Don’t fuss.’
‘But you need your energy, Jess. There’s nothing to you.’