Chapter 29
? New year ahead, new life ahead
Two hours later I was dressed, packed – if sweeping whatever clothes
and Christmas gifts happened to be within grabbing distance into my
suitcase counted as ‘packing’ – and driving an unfamiliar Zipcar back
towards Scarnbrook. Marmalade was on the passenger seat, making the
opposite journey to the one he’d made in the middle of the night. He was
certainly clocking up the miles today.
I hadn’t told Tom I’d changed my mind; I knew he’d probably insist on coming back and collecting me. But it felt important to do this by myself.
Pulling off the M4 for the final stretch of the journey, I yelped with delight as ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ by Chris Rea came on the radio.
If this were the final scene of a made-for-TV Christmas movie, it would absolutely be the most appropriate track imaginable for this climactic romantic scene.
Although they probably wouldn’t be able to afford the rights to such a recognisable song.
The familiar roads began to unfold before me once more.
It’d ended up being a cold and crisp Christmas Eve once the early morning drizzle had passed, and the buildings that had been dull and damp when I’d made this very journey ten days ago were now glistening with early-evening frost. It might not be a white Christmas tomorrow, but it could end up being a satisfyingly clear and crisp one.
Driving past The Star, I was thrilled to see the car park full and the place radiating festive mirth from every window. I took a mental note to text Becky later to let her know I was back – again.
In the fading dusk light, Scarnbrook’s Christmas trees and fairy lights seemed to get brighter and brighter as I neared Jo’s bungalow. And then I felt it: the full-on festive tingle I hadn’t experienced for decades.
It was the physical feeling of love, wasn’t it?
That blissful, unconscious sensation that tells us we’re part of a special, reciprocated connection.
An unbreakable one, even. That’s why losing someone is so fucking hard – because having that tingle unceremoniously ripped from our insides leaves our outsides mockingly unscathed, as if it had never existed in the first place.
Is this why people seem so obsessed with nostalgia, especially at this time of year?
Maybe all they’re trying to do is recapture that tingly feeling – of comfort and safety and predictability – that had once been the most tangible, natural thing in their lives.
Yet, the older we get, the less reliable and uncertain the world seems to become, and the more fragile our safety nets feel.
Looking back is often so much easier than looking forward.
And, for some of us, opening ourselves up to new people, new experiences and new uncertainties is simply too much to contemplate.
Because that tingle – that sense of love and belonging – is addictive.
And, as stupid as it sounded, I’d been filling that craving with my cheesy Christmas movies.
Because the characters always re-discover the childhood joy and comfort they’d once taken for granted.
And, up until right now, parking up a few houses away from Jo’s home in one of the few on-street spaces available – evidently lots of people had descended on this pocket of the world for Christmas – I’d never even known that’s what I’d been searching for.
I stretched in the driver’s seat for a few seconds, before noticing a message notification from Tom on my phone from about forty minutes ago:
Tom:
I’m back at Mum’s, safe and sound! Stopped off at Membury services on
the way back for a cheeky Burger King.
I tapped out a quick reply.
Mally:
Yum! Btw, I have a surprise for you.
The ticks turned blue instantly, and I looked over at Marmalade.
‘Right then, Marmy. Are you ready?’
Maybe the question was more for me than him. I scooped him up and slammed the hire car door closed just as Tom replied:
Tom:
***
I responded by pushing his mum’s doorbell.
He took a few seconds to come to the door, Jo calling, ‘Who is it?’ from her front room as he pulled the door open towards him.
‘It’s us,’ I said quietly, holding out Marmalade to him. ‘We both missed you.’
‘You… came?’
I nodded, and he pulled me into the best hug I’d ever had in my whole life, which swiftly turned into the best kiss I’d ever had in my whole life.
By the time it had ended, Jo had rounded the corner of the hallway, Chippie poking his head between her ankles inquisitively, her entire face beaming as she looked between our oxytocin-filled faces.
‘Oh, Mally, sweetheart! She came back, Thomas! Oh! Let me leave you two lovebirds to it for a minute or two, I’ll just…’
‘Ha ha, Jo, it’s fine. We have plenty of time for… all that.’ I squeezed Tom’s hand and he squeezed mine right back, along with an invisible sweep of the inside of my wrist with his thumb, before tugging me over the threshold of home.
Unpacking in Jo’s spare room an hour or so later after more hugs, a mug of hot chocolate and a hefty slice of Lidl Christmas cake to tide me over until a ‘picky tea’ in front of the telly later, my phone buzzed, the word ‘Mum’ flashing on the screen.
‘Mum! Happy Christmas Eve!’
‘Happy Christmas Eve, sweetheart! Oh, you sound nice and chirpy! What time is it there? I can’t keep up.’
‘It’s coming up to… six o’clock in the evening.’
‘Gosh, it’s not even lunchtime here and I’ve already been awake for what feels like a whole day. Your dad’s been sleeping like a log on Sandra’s enormous spare bed. It’s wider than it is long!’
‘Very posh! Are you both having a nice time?’
‘Oh yes, it’s lovely here. Though I must admit, it’s a bit odd wandering about in T-shirts in December. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without one of my big, woolly jumpers on.’
‘Oh, Mum. I love you.’ The words slipped out automatically. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told either of my parents I loved them.
‘Gosh. Well, we love you very much, too. We wanted to call you today instead of tomorrow as Sandra’s taking us to some swanky place for Christmas lunch and your dad warned me I won’t have any Internet signal for most of the day, whatever that means.’
I heard the background sound of a toilet flush, followed by Dad’s muffled voice: ‘Like I keep telling you, love, it’s a different mobile telephone system in America! You’ll need a Wi-Fi connection to use your phone!’
‘Did you hear your father, Amelia?’
‘Yes, I heard.’
I imagined them perched on the end of a giant bed together.
‘Put her on speakerphone!’ Dad sounded happy. They both did.
‘You do it, Bob!’
I heard some rustling noises and then Dad’s voice: ‘Right then, here we both are, Amelia!’
‘Hey, Dad! Happy early Christmas!’
‘And to you, kiddo.’
Should I tell them about Tom? Not quite yet. But the news about The Helix ?
My instincts were telling me to say nothing, to shield them from the worry, but I couldn’t risk them finding out through a third party.
‘Hey, Mum and Dad, don’t panic, but just so you know, you might see some news doing the rounds about The Helix .’
‘What kind of news, Amelia?’ I could hear Mum’s frown in her voice.
‘That they’re closing down the UK office…’
‘Oh no! But what does this mean for…’
‘Please, let me finish. Absolutely nothing is set in stone in terms of my job, but even if the worst happens, I’m kind of… excited for the first time in ages. I think it’s time for a bit of a fresh start.’
‘If you say so, Amelia. You promise you’re not putting on one of your brave faces?’
Huh, she knew about my ‘brave faces’?
‘I promise. In fact, I think the hope about the future I’m feeling right now is the bravest thing I’ve done in years.’
‘That’s my girl,’ said Dad.
Mum continued, ‘Yes, we’re so proud of you, Amelia. You’ll get through this, sweetheart. You’ve gotten through worse.’
‘We all have,’ I said.
There was no response to that, and as she swiftly changed the subject and they told me more about their trip and their plans for tomorrow, I knew there likely never would be.
Anything Josh and I would work to understand and mend over the coming weeks, months and years would be our journey, and our journey alone.
This knowledge made me sad. But I had to make peace with the idea that sorrow and joy can – and must – co-exist if any of us stand a chance of finding happiness and hope in among the chaos and heartache of life.
After hanging up, I tipped a canvas bag upside down over the bed, allowing my small collection of presents to tumble out.
I figured I might as well open them now, since each of them carried a shit-ton of emotional weight that I wasn’t quite ready for Tom and his mum to witness tomorrow.
My parents had given me a beautiful, personalised notebook and pen.
I looked forward to discovering what creative avenues these fresh pages would open up, vowing not to fill them with lists for once.
Then there was a present from Elle, which she’d given to me on our last day in the office. It was my PE effort award – but it’d had a makeover. The engraved label on the base of the cup no longer read: PE Effort, Year 9 Girl . Instead, it said: Best sister from another mister, forever .
Sister .
Over the years, Elle had placed so much pressure and expectation on our friendship that, for her, it had mutated into something completely different and borderline unhealthy.
But the love and care with which I’d cradled her a couple of days ago was real.
I knew I wanted to be a part of Elle’s life – and Frannie’s life – forever, regardless of what continent they happened to be living on, but ‘forever’ didn’t have to mean ‘exclusively’.
I’d been her safety net ever since she’d moved next door, but safety nets need to be anchored to something, and I’d been drifting from the moment Livvie had died.
Right now, I had to focus on anchoring myself to my own life, not to someone else’s – and standing next to Josh as he did the same.
Which brought me to my final gift: the one from my big brother and my amazing sister-in-law. I untied the cloth wrapping, which doubled up as a beautiful tea towel. Pretty handy in itself, to be fair. Enclosed within was a VHS tape of The Princess Bride . I clutched it tightly to my chest.
I took out my phone and tapped out a message to Josh:
Mally:
Happy Christmas for tomorrow! Couldn’t resist opening your present
just now. Thank you, it’s INCONCEIVABLE!
Josh:
You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it
means.
Mally:
Lol. When did you last watch it?
Josh:
Couldn’t even say. Fancy a NYE movie night next week to refresh our
memories?
Mally:
You’re on x
I smiled a watery grin as I collected up the presents and stacked them on the dressing table next to the window, risking a review of my appearance in the mirror as I did so.
God, I looked unkempt. But also kind of…
glowy and alive? I thought back to the numbness that had washed over me back in London after Rory had collected Elle.
Perhaps, instead of emptiness, it’d actually been my brain and body resetting itself for the next phase of my life.
Because, right now, I had a clear and unshakeable understanding of what I needed to do: I needed to let go of my small existence of easy comforts to find true peace, despite all the complexities that would inevitably come along with that.
Coming here to spend Christmas with Tom was just the first step of many, but I was finally ready to take every single one.
I tucked my hair behind my ears, smeared on some lip balm and sprayed each wrist with a random perfume Jo had left in the room for me.
I rummaged through my backpack in search of a Polo mint before re-joining Tom, Jo and Chippie in the living room for their traditional Christmas Eve re-watch of Santa Claus: The Movie.
But my hand landed on something else, instead.
It was a spare copy of the Christmas movie bingo sheet I’d tucked in an inside pocket when I’d packed for my first trip to Scarnbrook.
I pulled it out along with a pen, and began neatly ticking off all the tropes I’d inadvertently achieved over the last couple of weeks once more.
My life was nowhere near as straightforward as a Christmas movie, but I had to admit I’d experienced quite the character arc this month.
My hand reached the final trope on the page, but I suddenly felt unsure:
New year ahead, new life ahead.
I looked at myself in the mirror and bit my lip.
You’ve got this.
I nodded, and added my final tick.