were watching it play out from a distance. Only Dennis’s hand gave her a sense of being fully present. A hand anchoring her to the moment as the fog in her mind grew thicker.
After the service they went into the hall for Christmas drinks. Marigold usually let Dennis wander off on his own to talk to people, but today she stuck beside him. She patted her handbag, thankful that she hadn’t left it in the pew. She wasn’t that bad, she reassured herself. Surely she was just being paranoid.
Mary Hanson weaved through the crowd to talk to her, holding a plastic cup of mulled wine. She wore a knitted hat, which was meant to look like a plum pudding, and a wide smile. ‘Ah, there you are, Marigold. Goodness, doesn’t Daisy draw well. She’s shown me her early sketch and it’s caught my darling Bernie to perfection. She’s so clever.’
‘That’s nice to hear. She’s been working very hard,’ said Marigold. ‘There’s barely enough room in the house for all of us, but she manages to find a little space of her own somehow.’
A man appeared and stood next to Mary. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he said to Marigold.
Marigold put out her hand and smiled. ‘Happy Christmas.’
The man looked at her hand, then at Mary, and they both laughed. ‘That’s very formal of you, Marigold,’ he said. Marigold felt the ground spin away from her. The way he said her name indicated that he knew her, but she couldn’t for the life of her recall who he was.
‘Silly of me,’ she mumbled. ‘Habit, I suppose. My mind is on the turkey.’
‘Of course,’ the man agreed. ‘Mary put ours in at eight this morning.’
‘It must be a very big one,’ said Marigold.
‘It’s enormous,’ said Mary. ‘But we have Brian’s sister and her family coming for lunch.’
Ah, Marigold thought. Brian. Of course. Brian is Mary’s husband. How could she have forgotten that? She felt her face flush with embarrassment that she had put out her hand as if she had never met him before. Then came the cold, prickly sensation, creeping across her skin. The icy damp fear. The dizziness. The sense of helplessness. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I think I need to sit down.’
Dennis sensed his wife wilting beside him and took her hand. ‘Are you all right, Goldie?’
‘I feel a little light-headed.’
‘Not too much mulled wine?’
‘I haven’t had any.’
‘Come, let me find you a chair and I’ll get you some. You’re probably just hungry.’ He led her to a chair at the edge of the room. She sank into it with a moan. Then he left her a moment to fetch her a drink.
‘Are you all right, Marigold?’ It was Beryl. She pulled up a chair and sat down, resting her walking stick against the wall. ‘There, that’s better. My legs are aching after standing for all those carols. Some of them are much too long, don’t you think? People of our age don’t want to be on our feet for hours.’
‘I agree,’ said Marigold, who didn’t really mind the standing.
‘I’ve got a house full of people, but I left Martin in charge. As you know, he doesn’t like church.’
‘Very convenient having Martin at home to look after the lunch.’
‘Not that he can be trusted. He’s hopeless in the kitchen. But with my hip I can’t do it all.’ Beryl carried on, telling Marigold about her son who had promised to help and her grandchildren, who she hoped would not make a mess of the house. All the while Beryl chatted Marigold tried to steady her pounding heart. All her joy at the magic of Christmas had died, leaving nothing but an aching terror. How could she have forgotten who Brian was? Brian, whom she had known for twenty years.
‘Here you are, Goldie,’ said Dennis, handing her a cup of mulled wine. Marigold took a large gulp and waited impatiently for it to reach her stomach and calm her nerves. She took another. Dennis looked down at her with a concerned expression. ‘Stay here a minute. I’ll be back.’
‘I know how you feel,’ said Beryl.
‘You do?’ said Marigold, surprised. Did anyone know how she felt?
‘Christmas is tiring. To think of all this fuss just for a couple of days.’
Dennis waded through the room in search of Daisy and Suze. He found Daisy talking to Taran. ‘Hello, Taran,’ he said. ‘Might I have a word with Daisy?’
The light in Taran’s eyes dimmed with disappointment. ‘Of course, no problem.’ He moved away reluctantly.
‘Daisy, I need