Trevor studied Cheryl as Mrs M spoke. She seemed far too bright and perky considering everything. Either she was putting on a brave face or, more likely, the news had not been unexpected.
“So what’s gonna be the theme this time, Martha Stewart?” Cheryl asked him.
Each year, Trevor had been tasked with decorating the venue in readiness for the rest of the troupe’s arrival. If Cheryl’s mum excelled in the kitchen, his forte was in decorating spaces. On the first trip he’d created a freedom rainbow theme, conceptually tricky but accomplished without making the place seem too tacky, or like a set fromMy Little Pony. In subsequent years, other people had pushed their choices—Frozen’spure white, and blue for Johnny and Frank, after their favourite Christmas song,Blue Christmas.
This season Trevor had consulted nobody. But he always remembered Monica’s reaction whenever he unveiled one of his creations, a simple, ‘Nice, Mac, but what’s wrong with normal decorations?’ This year, he had decided to go with a conventional Christmas theme, fresh and natural, incorporating whatever he could find around the lodge. Hopefully this would entail a visual and fragrant display of branches of fir, evergreen and pine cones, items he could fix together and finish off withthe red or tartan ribbons he had brought from home. No gaudy colours, no artificial paints or glitter this year, just earth colours and raw materials.
“Trade secret. But let’s just say I’m not taking requests this year.”
“Whatever you do,” said Mrs M, patting him lightly on the shoulder, “I’m sure it will be lovely.”
“Not sure anyone will notice,” Trevor muttered to himself as she shuffled off, a move clearly meant to leave space for Cheryl and him to talk. As she managed the latch on the garden gate, Cheryl moved to take the place beside him. They sat for a few moments, each sipping their drinks, before either broke the silence—an honour given to Cheryl.
“Mum and I talked last night. As long as you were still on board, I’d be driving the first leg until Birmingham,” she said, the ordinary topic surprising him. “Mum’s insisting on doing her bit, but her eyesight’s getting worse. So I suggested she take the second leg for a couple of hours until mid-afternoon before the light starts to fade. After that, you can take over.”
“Fine by me.”
“Told her you’re the only one who’s been to Scotland and knows back roads.”
“I’ve been there once. To Edinburgh by train. When I was ten.”
“She doesn’t need to know that. Besides, we have my trusty satnav app.”
They sat in comfortable silence again until he peered at her.
“Why didn’t you call me last night? About Hannah?” he asked. Few of the people who knew Cheryl got to see the morning version—pale and makeup free and, quite honestly, looking like she needed a blood transfusion. She held her mug before her in both hands but refused to look at him as she took a big sigh and replied.
“She called at midnight. And I didn’t want to bother you. You’re still working through your own relationship aftermath.” Cheryl smoothed an errant lock of her long mousy brown hair over her right ear, a trademark habit. “I’m angry, Mac, of course I am. But the truth is we’ve been drifting apart for months. Last night wasn’t a knife to the heart so much as the final squeeze that stopped the heart from beating. Worst of all, everyone saw what was happening but me. Maybe because I’d hoped that if I didn’t say anything, things might eventually turn themselves around. But everything makes sense now. I wanted us to marry, she didn’t see the point. I wanted to move in together, she preferred her own space. Can’t tell you how many times she voiced her dislike of kids, as though letting me know not to even dare ask. All the signs were there. I was just deaf and blind to them.”
“Yeah, well, love can do that.”
“I’m not even sure what we had was love. More like comfortable familiarity. This was my wake-up call, my epiphany, telling me it’s time to grow up and move on.”
Trevor reached across to squeeze Cheryl’s hand.
“Must say, you’re taking this like a trooper.”
“Really? Right at this moment, I feel like standing up on the bonnet of this car, getting my Adele on and beltingMake You Feel My Loveinto the morning at the top of my voice.”
“Please, no. Think of the sleeping neighbours. Besides, no karaoke before midday.”
Both chuckled, Cheryl bumping her shoulder with his, before she sighed deeply.
“I’ve no idea who she is,” she said. “This girl she’s supposed to have met at the work party. Not even sure there is anyone. If you want my guess, she needs time alone over Christmas, or at least the company of her own family.”
“Could have picked better timing,” said Trevor. “I’m not sure we’d have gotten a refund, though, if—”
“Doesn’t matter. I paid her share,” said Cheryl.
A heavy silence hung in the air between them.
“They say bad things come along in threes,” said Trevor.
“Threes?”
“Monica, Karl and now Hannah. Although your mum’s loss is hardly comparable to ours. How’s she doing?”
“You know Mum. She tries not to let anything get to her, puts on a brave front for everyone. But I know she’s hurting. I know she misses Monica terribly. A couple of times I’ve heard her talking to herself, in the bedroom or the bathroom. Until I realised she was actually talking to Monica.”
