Page 107 of One More Day
‘Charlie?’
‘Yes, me again. Can you look outside? It’s snowing.’
‘I know it’s snowing, Charlie! Of course it’s snowing. It’s Christmas, silly.’
‘Look again.’
‘Why?’
‘Just look outside.’
‘OK, I’m going to the window now.’
I hear her shuffle across the room, Mary’s kind voice muffled in the background. I see her hand slip through the gap in the curtains and she pulls it to the side. And then I see her face. She squints at first in disbelief and then she lights up just as I hoped she would do.
‘Wait a minute. Is that you? Oh my goodness, Charlie, you’re here! Are you here, Charlie? Are you here for me?’
I run across the street to where she stands at the door in the sparkly green dress she bought especially for today, the one I’ve commented on at least a hundred times in photos.
She puts her hands up to her face and lets big fat tears roll down her cheeks. When I wrap my arms around her, I look to the doorway where Mary is crying too.
‘Happy Christmas, Helena,’ I whisper to my precious big sister. ‘I just couldn’t do this without you. I never have before, and I’ll never try to again.’
She is talking ten to the dozen as usual, her voice muffled in the warmth of my coat, but when she finally pulls away, all puffy eyed and red faced, I know I’ve made the right decision to come and surprise her this morning.
‘Happy Christmas, little brother!’ she beams. ‘This is going to be the best Christmas ever!’
And you know what, I think she might be onto something there.
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rose
‘Ta-daaa!’
I stand back to admire my work of art as Mum applauds my efforts from her armchair, a glass of Bailey’s cream liqueur and ice by her side. She looks as glamorous as ever in her red velvet dress, with her platinum hair trimmed around the nape of her neck and some oversized earrings that would give anything in my own collection a run for its money. The tree is sparkling, the mood is merry and our favourite Christmas song is on repeat in the background.
‘I think we should sing even louder to irritate your dad,’ she giggles, ‘but yes, it looks like a fairy tale, just like it always does when you decorate, Rose. No one can decorate a tree like you can. I’ve said it every single year.’
I do a polite curtsey and follow her into the sitting room where Dad has lit the fire and left out some mince pies for us to enjoy.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to fit in dinner later,’ I say, tucking into the warm, fruity middle of one of Mum’shomemade pies. ‘I forgot how much we eat when we all get together.’
‘That’s what it’s all about,’ Dad chirps as he shakes some more coal onto the fire.
Mum has been full of questions about Charlie since I got here, and she even interrupted our traditional sing-along while decorating the tree to ask even more. I told her about Rebecca in Tenerife, about his job as a therapist in Belfast, about how much he adores his sister Helena, and most of all about how his kindness made me see that I was still worth loving again. She cried when I told her that.
‘He’s calling me now,’ I announce, holding up my phone for effect, but when I answer the video call, it’s not Charlie’s face I see, but Helena’s.
‘Happy Christmas, Rose,’ she sings to me. ‘Guess who picked me up? Guess who wanted to spend Christmas with me after all? Charlie!’
She wears a hairband with reindeer faces on springs, and a beautiful green dress. Her face is bursting with joy and her delight is instantly contagious.
‘Oh, Helena, I’m so happy for you. I knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away on a day like today.’
My heart sings.
