I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,28

Sean told her. Mary knew this. At least Mary’s head did, but her heart continued to hold out for a change in the status quo, quickening in beat every time it felt Jack’s presence nearby.

‘That’s a pretty bracelet,’ said Robin, flicking his finger towards Mary’s left wrist. ‘Very artisan.’

‘Oh, this?’ said Mary with a modest shrug. He and Charlie dealt in diamonds and he thought her daft little handmade bracelet was worthy of comment? ‘It’s just something a friend gave me once.’

‘It suits you. It’s delicate,’ said Robin, ‘Let me see.’

Mary lifted her arm nearer to his eyes so he could take a better look. The bracelet was made up of blue cord, silver beads and seven tiny wooden blocks each bearing a letter: C.M.W.Y.N.A F.

‘Is that Welsh for Mary?’ joked Robin.

Mary smiled. ‘It stands for Call Me When You Need A Friend. A pal of mine sent it to me when my dad died. She said it was a licence to ring her whenever I needed to chat and if I wore it, it would be a reminder that she was there for me at any time of the day or night.’

‘How very sweet and thoughtful of her. When did you lose him, love?’

‘Two years ago,’ replied Mary. ‘I ended up ringing her quite a lot as it happens. I had my family to talk to but sometimes it helped just offloading onto someone else who had been through it and come out of the other side. You know, losing someone really close.’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what you need,’ said Robin and smiled back at her.

‘I’m surprised it hasn’t dropped off my wrist by now.’

‘Delicate but strong then.’ Robin suspected Mary was very much like her bracelet. ‘It’s amazing the staying power of some things that others presume will snap at the slightest pressure. Like Charlie and me. The amount of “it won’t last” gossip we had when we became a couple. All the bitches came to the surface like scum, let me tell you.’

‘How long have you and Charlie been together?’ she asked.

‘Too bloody long,’ he said, causing her to laugh because it was obvious he didn’t mean it.

‘Thirty-two years and counting. Married three years ago. We were the first homosexuals to be married in our village church. Caused quite a stir. It’s very old England where we live. They were still burning witches up until last year.’

Mary chuckled at that.

‘Yes, a lot of people presumed I was after Charlie’s money. A gigolo with no heart, a lowly chauffeur with his eye on the golden goose.’ Robin shook his head, in marked disgust. ‘It has been our pleasure to prove them wrong.’

‘Thirty-two years is a long time to stay with someone if you don’t love them,’ agreed Mary.

‘Precisely. But I was still quite apprehensive to accept his marriage proposal even after all those years.’

‘What made you change your mind then?’

‘Charlie is a very lovable man,’ said Robin, aware that he hadn’t directly answered the question. ‘Always kind, generous with his feelings, his time, his wisdom. Your family sound lovely and you’ve only told me a couple of sentences about them.’

‘My mum and dad were both good people with strong values. They worked hard and tried to bring us up the right way. And Dad always had a lot of sayings. He used to call them “the Roy Padgett book of wisdom”, and then he’d tell me a pearl to get me through whatever it was that was bothering me.’

‘Oh God, he sounds like Charlie.’ Robin laughed. ‘He’s like the bloody Dalai Lama sometimes with his sayings.’

‘There’s a lot of love in our family, I’m lucky.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘And we’ve never been afraid of telling each other, either. Some families don’t, do they? Mum and Dad didn’t come from very loving homes, and so they knew how important it is to say the words and always said them to us.’

Robin gave a little shrug. ‘Harder than it should be sometimes though, isn’t it? Saying the words.’

‘Jack…’ Mary began, before pulling herself up short. She had no right gossiping about him. Even to someone who would probably never even think of him again when the snow had cleared and they were all on their way.

‘Go on, you were saying,’ Robin prompted, nudging her then whispering, ‘I promise, what happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen.’

Mary smiled. ‘Jack’s dad Reg really loved him and it was obvious how proud of him he was, but I don’t think he ever actually told him to