A ball of tears lodged itself in Hannah’s throat. ‘Maybe not in Sweden,’ she managed.
Then in came her parents, Mo bearing the shiny mahogany dome of Christmas pudding and Jeremy two jugs of brandy sauce. Mo explained the pudding rules for those who were unfamiliar with them. ‘There’s a lucky silver sixpence somewhere in the pudding. Whoever finds it makes a wish … but then gives me the sixpence back because it’s the old money we used to have when I was tiny so I reuse it each year.’ Mo turned to Nico. ‘Check the kids’ portions before they eat so they don’t choke on it.’
Nico grinned as he agreed. His grey shirt made his eyes look particularly blue but he’d been quieter than usual. Hannah was so achingly aware of him that she’d noticed.
Mo set the pudding down and cut it into steaming portions as speculation began about who would get the lucky sixpence.
Hannah joined in mechanically. Maybe if she got the coin she could wish for Christmas to be over and, shazam, it would be gone.
But, presently, it was Nico’s voice that dragged Hannah back to reality. ‘I have the sixpence.’
‘Awwww,’ Josie sighed, apparently disappointed even though Nico had checked her portion for sixpences already. ‘Make a wish, Dad.’
Nico’s glance flickered Hannah’s way. ‘My wish is to go for a walk with Hannah.’
Sudden silence. Hannah’s face flamed. What?
Josie frowned reprovingly. ‘Dad, that’s not how it works. You wish quietly and don’t tell anyone or it won’t come true.’
‘I misunderstood,’ Nico apologised gravely.
Mo glanced from Nico to Hannah then whispered conspiratorially to Josie. ‘If Dad didn’t understand properly then I think we should let him off, don’t you? Would you and Maria stay here and help me? Dad and Hannah can stretch their legs while there’s still daylight. Then …’ she paused thrillingly ‘… as soon as they come back we can have presents.’
Josie cried, ‘Yay!’ and Maria chirped, ‘P’esents for me, too?’
Face stiff from so much fake smiling, Hannah said, ‘OK. We won’t be long,’ and marched off for her outdoor things. Getting the conversation with Nico over with would at least get her out of the washing up. Nico fetched his coat and soon they were stepping out into the eerily quiet Christmas Day village with cheery trees shedding their light from almost every window.
‘I’m sure if the man in the moon came down and saw everyone indoors and coloured lights everywhere he’d wonder what the humans were up to,’ Hannah said as they turned left out of the house down Main Road, not wanting to get into anything heavy while in sight of her parents’ house.
The moment they’d passed the pub, which looked as if it had been caught in a fishing net made entirely of fairy lights, she cut to the chase. ‘You’re not spending Christmas Day with Loren.’
‘I’m taking the girls to Reading to see their mother and grandparents tomorrow,’ he answered neutrally.
Hannah’s throat began to ache. So he wasn’t spending today with Loren but it sounded as if he was leaving tomorrow.
After a couple of minutes they turned into Little Lane and Hannah hesitated. As if he’d been expecting it, Nico caught her hand and towed her in through the gate to Honeybun Cottage. With quick movements he thrust open the door and ushered her inside, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up.
When she just stood there, thinking unhappily that he must be expecting her to burst into tears to have given her such privacy, he unzipped her coat and slid it down her arms as if she were Maria, and hung that up too.
She looked at him.
His face was set in hard, uncompromising lines. ‘Nan Heather gave me some idea of what my dear ex-mother-in-law saw fit to tell you,’ he said grimly. ‘Was that why you went off on your own?’
She swallowed, rubbing her arms, although the kitchen was warm and cosy. ‘I wanted to make it easy for you and the girls,’ she said.
‘Bullshit,’ he snapped. He thrust his fingers through his hair. ‘You disappeared and ignored every call and text.’
‘My phone’s on Do Not Disturb,’ Hannah admitted. ‘I thought I’d leave my messages until after the family Christmas.’
Nico took her hand and towed her to the sofa in the sitting room, pulling her down and fixing her with a level gaze. ‘Hannah,’ he said with quiet emphasis. ‘Vivvi had no right to say what she did. But you had no right to refuse