Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,50
the glorious white peaks of the mountains and the startling azure blue sky.
Craig is waiting for me at the station, having driven to Switzerland just yesterday.
‘How is everyone?’ I ask as he kisses me on the cheek.
‘On good form. But more importantly, how are you?’ He peers at me as if checking me for some rare disease.
‘Happier to be here than at home, despite my initial reluctance.’
‘Mmm. You look much better,’ he says, wheezing as he lifts my two heavy suitcases into the boot of the car.
I wish I could tell him my news; I wish I could wear my sparkling, enormous engagement ring with pride, but instead, it lies hidden in my bedside drawer. If I put it on, it would be an instant giveaway. I wish Patrick were here to celebrate Christmas with all of us.
The chalet is as hygge as I anticipated and the children are in fine spirits, bouncing, refreshed and the happiest I have seen either of them since Adam died. Even Mia seems content to converse with me, our previous run-ins seemingly forgotten. And Christmas, well, it isn’t so bad. Bea makes a huge effort with a big turkey and Christmas pudding brought from England. I spoil the kids and give them everything on their Christmas lists and more. It isn’t until bedtime that Oliver buries his head in his pillow and weeps for his dead father.
Meanwhile, Patrick messages me every morning and telephones me just before going to bed. I feel like a teenager, madly in love, missing him terribly and desperate to announce my happiness to the world.
On Boxing Day, Craig takes the kids off skiing, and Bea and I tog up and go for a walk. Our breaths create wisps of steam as we talk; the snow crunches underneath our boots. I turn my face up to the sun, surprised at how hot the rays feel at this time of year.
‘You seem different,’ Bea says as she strides along so quickly, I struggle to keep up with her.
‘I’ve met someone.’
‘Thought so,’ she says, not altering her pace. ‘Mia and Oliver are at a very sensitive stage. I hope you’re not going to make things worse for them.’
‘Excuse me.’ I stop still and put my thick, gloved hands on my hips. It takes Bea a few moments to realise I haven’t kept pace with her. ‘I don’t need to be told how to look after my own children.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Lydia, but sometimes you do. You throw yourself into everything. Work. Love life. I don’t know what else you do. Sometimes I think you forget that your children should come first.’
Her words sting and I feel a fury burn at the back of my throat.
‘That’s not true!’ I retort, but I wonder if I’m being totally honest with myself. ‘I love my children and do the very best I can for them.’
‘It’s too soon for you to be in a new relationship.’
‘How dare you tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing! You’ve no idea what I have been through these past couple of years. Don’t I deserve any happiness?’
‘Of course you do. But there’s a time and a place for everything. You need to–’
‘Stop listening to my sanctimonious big sister who thinks she knows best!’ I retort, turning on my heel and walking back the way we came.
‘Lydia, stop!’
But I don’t. I march back towards the chalet and then continue along the path in the other direction, tears smarting my eyes. I lose track of how long I walk for. The path is flat and well-trodden, icy patches giving way to sawdust and pine needles. The views are spectacular, long vistas of the Rhone Valley, with towns dotted along the riverside in both directions and magnificent mountains rising far up into the sky. Sometimes I find myself in the forest, where the trees are still laden down with piles of snow, and I breathe in the scent of pine and watch as the snow glistens as if it’s made up of millions of little diamonds.
And then I FaceTime Patrick. I hope I’m not disturbing him whilst he’s with his sister and her family.
‘Darling, how are you?’
I smile at the sound of his voice. ‘Look at these views. Aren’t they spectacular? I wish you were here.’ I hold the phone up so that he can see the mountains.
‘Wow! Something else. I’m missing you.’
‘I’m missing you too.’ I hold the phone so that I can see him, but he’s