to gather some pearls of wisdom.
‘You look knackered,’ Jonah says.
I sigh as I swallow some wine. ‘Yeah, I am a bit.’
‘Still not sleeping?’
I run my hand over my forehead. ‘Not great, no.’
Sleep is becoming an issue for me, in all honesty. I washed those pills down the sink and with them my ability to sleep at night. I don’t know why, but I do know I won’t be going back to see the doctor about it anytime soon.
‘Want me to sing to you?’ Jonah laughs. ‘I do a good line in lullabies. Or death metal. Whichever you find more soothing.’
I pick my phone up and relocate to the sofa.
‘Go on then,’ I say, settling down. I pull the throw over me and drag a pillow under my head, and then I look at Jonah. ‘I’m ready.’
‘You actually want me to sing to you?’
‘Don’t tell me you were kidding,’ I say, even though I know he was. ‘It’s been a long time since I heard you sing.’
He stares at me, seeing me more clearly than most people do even though he’s on the other side of the world. I see him clearly too; his eyes tell me that he still doesn’t sing very much these days, and he’s trying to decide if he can do it right now for me.
‘Close your eyes,’ he says.
I prop my phone where he can see me and burrow into the pillow, the blanket pulled up, more comfortable than I’ve been in a while.
‘Any requests?’
‘Surprise me,’ I whisper.
He falls quiet and for a while all I can hear is his breathing, which is kind of soothing in itself. And then he begins, low and soulful, and my grateful bones sink into the cushions. I’ve heard Jonah work his way through the Beatles’ back catalogue countless times in the pub after hours. In The Prince he usually goes for crowd-pleasers, but tonight he strips it back and sings ‘The Long and Winding Road’ just for me.
Wednesday 18 December
‘I wouldn’t wear this beard for anyone else,’ Phil says, pulling the frothy white wool down over his mouth. ‘I’ve swallowed at least half of it.’
‘Don’t hock up a hairball,’ Ryan says, every inch Santa’s helper in his elf outfit.
My upstairs buddies have all been roped in to do their bit for my Christmas library party this morning. It’s nothing big or grand in the scale of things, just an open day with activities and games, a chance to get parents in to see the improvements I’ve made to our pre-school corner. I used the lure of seeing Santa to pull in the pre-school crowd, and it’s been more effective than I anticipated. The place is heaving with harassed-looking parents, too warm in their outside jackets and holding on to tissues, changing bags and half-eaten snacks.
Dawn is in charge of the colouring table, her Christmas jumper stretched over her beachball bump, and Julia is handing out punch to grateful mums and dads. I can’t guarantee she hasn’t laced it with vodka. She hasn’t gone near a Christmas outfit, of course, but her bright-red lipstick is a good match with Phil’s Santa suit. And then there’s Flo and Mary, my library ladies. They’ve come in dressed as a pair of Christmas baubles, which would be fine except for the fact that they can barely fit between the aisles in the library. Ryan laughed until tears ran down his cheeks when Flo got wedged in the history section earlier and needed him to give her a good shove from behind.
‘Someone wanted to see Santa.’
I turn and find Elle behind me, Mum beside her with Charlotte in her arms. There’s something magical about that child; I only have to see her and a light switches on inside me. It’s a mutual appreciation society, thankfully – she laughs like a drain at my really bad jokes and it’s an indisputable fact that I’m her favourite. Well, indisputable to me, at least.
‘You came,’ I say, kissing their cold cheeks.
‘As if we’d miss it,’ Mum says, taking it all in. ‘Look at all these people, Lydia!’
‘I hope Santa has enough gifts,’ Elle says.
I know for a fact that Santa has enough gifts. I’ve shaken local businesses dry for donations and used the money to bulk buy copies of The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
‘I hope Santa doesn’t choke on his beard,’ I say.
‘I think that’s the least of his worries,’ Mum laughs.
Phil is on a throne in the corner being mobbed by two-year-olds all desperate to lodge their