She pulled back, frowned at him. “What?”
“You can show me the village where you grew up, I’d like to see it.”
Josie pursed her lips. “I don’t really feel like it.”
“I know, but sitting around here waiting for something to happen or waiting for the test results or whatever is going to do you no good—from what I know of her I don’t think your grandmother would like to think of you doing that.” There was enough truth in that—in both parts of what he’d said—to make her agree to it. She was sure she could use the distraction, given there was no way she was going to be able to rest right now.
So, after changing into a slightly warmer outfit from her Budapest suitcase, they headed off out into the cold, the sun doing its best to dissolve last night’s frost, and walked toward the village square. The Christmas lights were up, though not quite as majestic in daylight, and there was a huge Christmas tree in the square, decorated all the way to the very top, the color scheme a little different every year, if it was still the same as when she was a teenager.
“I used to help decorate this tree,” Josie said, gesturing. “Well, not this tree per se, but the tree they put up every year here.” Max looked down at her, his shoulders hunched, his lips pale from the chill in the air. “Everyone used to get involved,” she continued. “And my grandparents were big on tradition. As were my parents,” she said with a little sad smile. She had a fleeting memory of her dad on a ladder, being one of the few to brave decorating the top of the tree while the rest of them looked up, the children playing with sparklers, the adults drinking mulled wine.
“How about you?” she asked as they walked toward the tree to stare at it.
“Me?”
“What were your Christmases like, growing up?”
“Well, my mum, being American, is very into Christmas.” His lips twitched as they started walking again, a few more people coming out now as the handful of shops started to open, supporting local businesses by doing what shopping they could here. “She went big on the decorations—inside and out—on the house where we grew up in Bristol, though nothing could happen until the first of December. And we did everything—eggnog, Christmas cookies for neighbors, the lot.”
Josie smiled. “Sounds nice.”
“It was. I think Mum tried to enforce Thanksgiving on us too, before I can remember it really—Dad said she gave up in the face of our Englishness, so she had to focus all her efforts on Christmas instead.”
Josie surprised herself by letting out a small laugh. “And now? You still all spend it together?” She remembered last year, how he’d been on his way to see them all.
“I think that was my mum’s plan, but they’ve only been living in America for a few years, so we’ll see if it holds. When my parents sold the house I grew up in,” he added, “me and my sister, being the adults we are, threw quite a tantrum—no more Christmases there.”
Josie chuckled, the action, tired as it was, warming her a little. “Sounds like a reasonable—”
“Josie? That can’t be you?” Josie frowned and looked toward the sound of the voice. A dark-haired woman wearing a red coat, heavily pregnant from the looks of things, was beaming at Josie as she stepped toward her from the local shop.
It took Josie a moment. The woman had shorter hair than she remembered and her face was rounder, smiling rather than scowling, and without the thick layer of makeup she’d worn without fail during their secondary school years. “Beth?” asked Josie.
“Oh it is you,” Beth said, resting her gloved hands on the bump underneath her coat. “I haven’t seen you in so long! I see most of the others every year at least, but you don’t usually come back for Christmas, do you?” She’d almost forgotten this, Josie thought, the fact that you couldn’t go anywhere here without bumping into someone you knew.
“Not usually,” Josie admitted, trying hard to keep her smile in place. The thing was, even at school she and Beth hadn’t been the best of friends, more like friends by association—they’d hung out in the same group and were from the same village, but really, they’d never done anything one-on-one unless by accident. Still, a wave of nostalgia hit Josie—she hardly ever saw anyone from school these days, the last few years proving more and more difficult to arrange regular meetups, what with them all dotted around and busy with their own lives, jobs, partners.