I Won't Be Home For Christmas by Amanda Prowse

Author:Amanda Prowse [Prowse, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784974930
Publisher: Head of Zeus

9

‘Keep your eyes closed, Mum!’

‘They are closed, for goodness’ sake.’ She giggled, walking with her hands stretched out in front of her and with Emma holding her arm. ‘You know how I hate surprises. And I’m worried I might fall – don’t lead me near the cliff edge or let Ellen trip me up.’

‘We’re nowhere near the cliff edge. We’re back on the terrace. Trust me.’ Emma spoke calmly.

‘I don’t appear to have any choice!’ she yelled, as she held on tight, giggling at the absurdity of the situation.

There was the sound of footsteps and she heard an unmistakeable gasp as Ellen took a sharp breath. That made her smile; whatever Emma had made or done had certainly made a big impression on her friend. She pictured the Santa’s Grotto Emma had been discussing, was this it? The big reveal? Her excitement built. Or maybe it was something less Christmassy and more to do with the wedding, and probably the thing that Michael had been involved in fetching today. Her mind raced with possibilities. A table centrepiece? Flowers? The cake!

‘Okay, I’ve got you,’ Emma cooed. ‘In a few seconds I’m going to let you open your eyes, but not until I say.’

‘For goodness’ sake, stop mucking around! I’m getting very impatient.’ She flapped her hands with excitement, nerves and apprehension.

Emma counted her down. ‘Three, two, one… Okay, open your eyes.’

Vivienne slowly opened her eyes and continued to hold her daughter’s hand. She blinked a couple of times and looked at the ground, shaking her head slightly, as if this might help her adjust to the change from dark to light. The candles seemed to burn extra bright, making everything around her blur a little. She beamed in anticipation – until she looked up.

Her smile disappeared in an instant and her heart seemed to swell and then shrink inside her ribcage. She thought she might fall and gripped Emma’s hand even harder to keep steady. She stumbled backwards and Ellen rushed forward and placed her arm across her back. Her breath came in short starts and the sound of her blood racing around her veins was loud in her ears.

There, on the lawn, not ten feet in front of her, wearing jeans and a blazer, brown boots and a white shirt, was a man, a large man with a paunch resting on his tightly cinched belt and the florid complexion of good living beneath his tan.

He smiled at her with the same bright, film-star gnashers, albeit a little dulled by age and time. His thick crop of dark hair was lighter and higher on his forehead than she remembered and his twinkly eyes sat in the inevitable fine folds of crow’s feet. The changes were evident, but it was still, unmistakeably, her husband.

‘Hello, Viv.’ He took a step towards her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She stared at him, as if he had just risen from the dead and popped up right there, on the other side of the world.

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