The Two Lives of Lydia Bird - Josie Silver Page 0,55

off right now before you set even a toe further into this house. I quite like that she still feels the need to remind me, even though it’s as ingrained in me as the days of the week. It’s one of the things I can still rely on. She smiles at my cheery Christmas Robin socks as I line my boots up neatly beside hers on the low wooden bench provided for exactly that purpose. I put the socks on this morning especially for her; she puts stock by small things like that, watches me for signs that I’m doing more than just going through the motions. I am just going through the motions, of course, but for her sake I try to fake it till I make it. Though what happens if you never make it? Do you just keep faking it for ever, until you’re a completely fake person?

Elle and David are already sitting at the kitchen table when I go through.

‘I made you some hot chocolate,’ Elle says, nodding towards the tall snowman cup on the table. It’s piled high with cream and marshmallows and chocolate shavings, the kind of thing you’d pay through the nose for in a cafe on the high street.

‘Is this what we do now you can’t drink?’ I try out a joke.

She pulls a face. ‘Don’t remind me. I’d kill the lot of you for a gin and tonic.’

‘It’s cold out,’ I say, rubbing my hands together. ‘This is perfect.’

‘You can put brandy in it if you want,’ she says, begrudging.

I take a sip. It’s sweet and hot, fine as it is. Besides, I know myself well enough to know I’ll have a couple of glasses of wine before bed tonight. If I start drinking this early, I might not stop until next year and end up a tearful, raddled mess, rocking on my bathroom floor.

‘Has Mum cooked?’ I say, taking advantage of the fact that she hasn’t followed me into the kitchen to try to gauge how long this gathering is likely to take. I’m not being a bitch; I just want to be at home on my own today.

Elle shakes her head. ‘Just sandwiches, I think.’

That’s something.

‘Are you sure you won’t come with us tonight?’ David says, his hands cupped around his mug. ‘We’ve still got a spare ticket, just in case.’

‘We’re not planning on staying too late ourselves,’ Elle adds. ‘You could come back and stay over at ours.’

They’re both looking at me warily, hopeful that I might have a last-minute change of heart and join them at The Prince. We’ve spent New Year’s Eve there for the last few years and it’s always the same. Packed to the rafters, everyone overdressed for a backstreet pub, a haze of familiar faces and dubious drinks pressed into your hands, an undercurrent of barely contained anticipation sweeping everyone towards midnight on a sea of champagne corks and party poppers. I can’t think of anywhere I want to be less tonight.

‘I’ll give it a miss this year,’ I say, arranging my face into an apology.

They don’t press me; I expect they know I won’t change my mind.

We look towards the door at the sound of Mum’s footfall on the stairs, and she appears carrying a blue-and-white-striped cardboard box. Elle smiles at her, one of those small, collaborative smiles that immediately lets me know she’s had a hand in whatever’s in that box.

‘What’s this?’ I say, smiling to mask my unease. ‘New shoes?’

They flick nervous glances at each other as Mum takes a seat, each clearly willing the other one to speak up.

Mum puts her hand flat on the lid of the box and swallows.

‘Because it’s New Year’s Eve, we wanted you to know that none of us will ever forget Freddie either,’ she says, and already I can hear tears thickening her voice. ‘We’ve picked some of our favourite photographs and other bits and bobs that remind us of him most, and we’ve put them all in this box for you to keep.’

Oh. I look into the depths of my half-drunk hot chocolate and will myself not to cry.

‘You don’t have to look now if you don’t want to,’ Elle rushes in. ‘We just couldn’t let the day slide by without marking it with you.’

When I woke this morning, letting the day slide by unmarked was my only intention. Now I don’t quite know how to feel.

‘I’d like to see,’ I say.

Mum nods and lifts the lid. Straight away I see things