Page 58 of The Christmas Catch
“My family live in Surrey, but we always made the effort to meet up over summers and Christmas. We went on holiday a lot when we were kids to Bournemouth, didn’t we?” Helen said.
Ali nodded. “I have really fond memories of those times. Even though you and Nicole used to bury me in the sand every year. I had a recurring dream I was buried alive throughout my childhood.”
Helen laughed as she sat down on the sofa opposite. “Poor Ali. You were always smallest, so always the one to get picked on. But the adults thought you were the cutest.”
“I’m still younger than both you and Nicole, so who had the last laugh?” Ali gave her cousin a grin.
“You, clearly. Although Nicole will always be a year older than me, and I cling to that.” Helen swilled her wine around her glass. Through the door, glasses clinked as Jamie cleared up. “He’s a keeper, that one,” Helen added.
Morgan nodded. “Any spouse who likes to cook is one to be cherished.”
Helen glanced at Ali, as if weighing up her next sentence.
Morgan caught the hesitation.
Next to her, Ali clutched her glass that bit tighter.
“A little like your dad,” Helen said eventually.
Ali visibly flinched.
“I remember his amazing lasagne, which he always cooked every summer, even when it was boiling outside. ‘It’s always lasagne weather’, Uncle Tony would say.” Helen smiled. “And he always joined in with the sand-burying antics.” She paused. “How are things with everyone now?”
Ali cleared her throat. “They’re okay. I haven’t been back since… since everything.”
“Understandable,” Helen replied. “I was so sorry when I heard, and even sorrier we couldn’t make the funeral. It happened so quickly and we were still on holiday.”
Funeral? Morgan twisted to look at Ali, but she didn’t meet her gaze.
“It’s fine, really. He had many people there to see him off. It was a lovely service and a great turnout. And yes, he was buried within ten days, which is unheard of. There was obviously a dearth of deaths this summer. My dad led the trend into autumn.”
Morgan flicked her eyes from Helen to Ali, then back. She didn’t want to say anything right now. This was a family moment, and she should shut up. But Tony Bradford was dead? This was news. She remembered him with great fondness.
Why hadn’t Ali said anything? They’d talked about going home, about the pub, about their families, and Ali hadn’t mentioned it once.
“Getting home this year is a big deal, then. Being with your family for Christmas?”
Ali gave the most noncommittal shrug. “I guess.” She gathered herself, then looked directly at Helen. “I mean, yes. It is. I know they’re probably thinking I engineered this travel chaos to limit my time at home, but I really didn’t.”
“Do you need to call them?”
Ali shook her head. “I’ve been messaging Nicole, she knows we’re here and we’re leaving tomorrow.” She flicked her gaze to Morgan. “She probably wants more details on me travelling with Morgan, to be honest.”
Morgan reached out and put a hand on Ali’s knee. The electricity was palpable. “I’m really sorry.” She hoped her face conveyed her sincerity.
“Thanks,” Ali whispered.
For just a moment, it was the two of them again, inside their cocoon. Morgan caught Ali’s wounded stare. She wanted to reach out and make it all better. Wrap her arms around Ali and take the pain away. Even if just for a few moments. But now wasn’t the time.
Helen’s voice broke the spell. “But Uncle Tony wouldn’t want us to wallow. Plus, I know he’d be thrilled about you two. How long have you been together?”
Morgan blinked, stared at Ali, then turned to Helen. “We’re not together.”
Ali shook her head. “No.”
Helen raised both eyebrows in an unspoken question, then fixed her gaze on Ali’s thigh, where Morgan’s hand still rested. “You’re not? I just assumed…”
Morgan snatched her hand back, then shook her head. “No, we’re just old friends, as we said at dinner. I mean, we sometimes see each other when we both go home, but we’ve never hooked up.” Why was she over explaining? “When I say hooked up, I don’t meanhooked up.”
