concert on TV. Rob and Leesa arrived with their gifts wrapped in red and gold, looking happy and relaxed. Hannah received jumpers and boots, make-up and perfume, vouchers and wine. Mo tripped as she carried a box of chocolates as ‘breakfast afters’ and showered everyone with Milk Tray, making them all howl with laughter.
It was a wonderful, jolly, family Christmas Day, peeling sprouts or wrapping pigs in their blankets, laughing and chattering. Jeremy and Rob set the dining table, their voices the only male ones as Brett was with his daughters and not seeing Nan till evening. Leesa, who was artistic, folded dark green paper napkins into Christmas trees. ‘You look as if you’ve made loads,’ Hannah commented, unfastening the cellophane on the box of crackers.
Leesa cocked an eyebrow. Marriage seemed to have enhanced her sweet prettiness. ‘Mo said nine.’
‘She probably looked at her notes upside down,’ Hannah giggled. ‘You know how she writes herself a schedule of what to do and when to do it. I only count six people.’
The only tense moment was when Hannah came upon her parents in the kitchen and heard her dad hiss, ‘Mo, I think we ought to tell Hannah about Nico.’
‘No, don’t!’ Hannah said quickly, before Mo could reply. ‘It’s no accident that I haven’t asked about him. Let’s not spoil today. Please.’
Mo looked at Jeremy smugly through a cloud of steam as she drained the parboiled potatoes ready to throw them in the oil to roast. ‘See.’
Jeremy rolled his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know—’
Mo gave her husband a hug. ‘She said she doesn’t want to be told. Let’s respect her wishes.’
Wishes, Hannah thought with a pang, remembering the half-formed wish she’d made in the Gold Room. If she’d got her wish, today would have been spent with Nico, Josie and Maria, glorying in the bonds they’d formed in snowy Sweden – or bonds she’d thought they’d formed. The snowman family in Lars’s back garden was all that was left of that, unless a thaw had already turned it to puddles.
Jeremy hesitated, then seemed to resign himself. ‘Whatever you want, love.’
It was an hour later and Hannah was feeling overheated, stirring gravy with one hand and bread sauce with the other, when she heard someone go to the front door and open it. Rob’s voice said, ‘Oh! Hello!’
Then Hannah froze as a familiar, high, excited voice called, ‘Merry Christmas!’ and a shriller, younger one echoed, ‘Many Nissmass!’
The third voice was deep and male. ‘Merry Christmas, Rob. Here’s some wine – stop jumping about, Josie – and chocolate mints. Maria, wipe your feet, please.’
Hannah’s knees turned to butter. ‘Whoops,’ said Mo, taking the gravy pan off the heat. ‘Let’s try not to boil it over.’
Slowly, Hannah turned accusing eyes on her mother, whose round face was redder than her Christmas jumper. Mo took the bread sauce off Hannah as well, her eyes huge and apprehensive. ‘We invited them for Christmas lunch. There’s a good reason and you did say—’
Hannah didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Panic boiled the blood in her ears. The room receded and rushed back. Nine Christmas-tree napkins had been the correct number. Nico was here and she’d have to face him. Every drop of comfort she’d been soaking up from Christmas alone with her lovely family evaporated. ‘MUM! How could you—?’ she began.
‘HANNAH!’ Josie flew down the short hall. ‘Hannah, where’ve you been? I thought we were going to make decorations and you’d help me wrap our present for Dad. Never mind,’ she ended consolingly, winding her arms around Hannah’s waist and gazing up at her with starry eyes. ‘We’re having Christmas dinner together.’
Then Maria’s short legs caught up and she hurled herself on Hannah too, demanding, ‘Up, ’Annah, up!’ and holding out her arms.
Josie, with big-sister pragmatism, scooped Maria up to join the cuddle. Hannah’s eyes burned as she clutched the children to her. She hadn’t let herself think about how much she’d missed them in the past few days. They – and Nico – were not hers to love.
Then awareness danced across her skin and he was in the room, his eyes blue and watchful. ‘God Jul,’ he said softly.
‘God Jul.’ She couldn’t read his expression because he was a tear-drenched blur. She put Maria down and freed herself from Josie. ‘Why don’t you run and see Nan Heather in the sitting room? I’m helping my mum with the meal,’ she suggested brightly.
Mo began, ‘I’m sure—’
‘I’m helping in here,’ Hannah muttered fiercely, turning her back on Nico.