Page 15 of The Village Christmas Party

I worry then that looking at photos might dredge up bittersweet memories for Mum, of her life together with Dad, but we all have a past I suppose.

‘That sounds nice.’ She smiles. ‘And it’s good to know you enjoy spending some time with me, as I did with my mum. Iguess I must have done something right then.’ She smiles again and I reassure her that she did.

‘I remember Christmas with Gran. It was so cosy, wasn’t it? I remember how Grandad loved Gran’s baking.’

I loved making biscuits with Gran as Grandad, after his lunchtime sandwich and mug of tea, would soon be snoozing gently in his chair. As soon as the biscuits were baked he would try to eat them, and I remember Gran slapping his hand away and telling him to at least wait until they were iced.

‘He certainly did.’ Mum chuckles. ‘One year she made a Christmas cake, and made the mistake of leaving it in a tin on the kitchen counter. He scoffed a giant piece one evening when Mum had gone to bed, before she’d even had a chance to ice it. She never spoke to him for days,’ Mum recalls.

‘They were happy though, weren’t they?’

‘Oh yes, they loved the bones of each other,’ she says, pushing the biscuit tin away. ‘Mum was never the same after Dad died. I wasn’t surprised she joined him the following year,’ she says wistfully. ‘I wish me and your dad could have had that kind of enduring love.’ She gazes off somewhere in the distance.

‘Do you?’ I’m a little surprised by this, as I assumed neither of them had any regrets.

‘Well, of course I do.’ She reaches over and takes my hand. ‘I wanted you to feel the same love and security I felt as a child, but we failed you.’ Her voice catches in her throat. ‘Although I guess you were older when we separated.’

‘I was an adult,’ I remind her. ‘Oh, Mum, where has this come from?’ I ask as I squeeze her hand. ‘You most certainly haven’t failed me; I had a lovely childhood.’

I truly did enjoy my childhood, enjoying picnics at the beach in the summer, and spending winter evenings at home, warm and cosy, watching family films together. They must have beensick to death of watchingThe Santa Clausemovies for the umpteenth time at Christmas, but they never complained.

‘You did? Oh, I don’t know, ignore me. I always get a bit sentimental around this time of year.’ She musters up a smile. ‘It’s just, you know, I imagined me and your dad sitting around a Christmas table with you for dinner, not us all doing our own thing.’ She takes a tissue from her bag and blows her nose.

I wonder for a minute if I could make that happen? But then, I don’t suppose his new partner would take too kindly to the idea.

‘Do you regret splitting with Dad?’ I think of him with his new partner, Rose, who he seems to get along with well enough, but I don’t think is the love of his life.

‘In some ways,’ she admits. ‘Although, don’t get me wrong, we weren’t right for each other deep down. I just miss the family thing I suppose. I told you, ’tis the season to be sentimental.’ She rolls her eyes.

‘Aw, Mum, we will have a nice day at the community centre lunch though, won’t we?’

‘Oh yes, I always enjoy that.’ She smiles.

‘And we will have that girlie evening very soon.’

Tony jumps up onto her lap then, purring loudly, as if sensing she needs a little comfort and she strokes him.

Last year, as in previous years, Mum and I have dined here after a busy Christmas Eve at the centre, lounging around after lunch watching Christmas films, sipping Baileys and trying, unsuccessfully, to stop ourselves from dipping into the chocolate tin.

We had a lovely time, and later played chess until late in the evening. My dad taught me to play chess years ago and I wished he could have joined us but all the same, watching the lights twinkle on the tree, as we enjoyed a nightcap for bed, I felt truly blessed.

‘Well as long as you’re okay,’ I say gently. I’ve never known my mum to be sentimental at this time of year before. Maybe it’s because she’s getting a little bit older and reflecting more on her life.

‘You know me, I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Anyway, I must get going as me and a couple of the girls from the food bank are going for a talk at the community centre about making your own eco-friendly detergent, from conkers would you believe.’

‘Conkers. Really?’

‘Apparently so. Worth a try I think, although there won’t be any around at this time of year. It’s something to bear in mind for next autumn.’

She prises a reluctant Tony from her knee and heads into the hallway to retrieve her hefty, navy duffel coat.

‘Make sure you get home safely,’ I tell her as I wrap her in a hug.

‘I will be getting a lift, don’t worry. Night, love.’

‘Night, Mum.’

As I close the door, I wonder when the roles became reversed, and I worry about my mum getting home safely. I also wonder whether she is truly happy, but I guess our personal happiness is something we all must figure out for ourselves.

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