It was thinking about her parents that made her realize she hadn’t written her letter yet this year. She’d been planning to do it in Budapest, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen now. Being here, around people who knew her parents, made her think that now was the perfect time to do it, so she slipped off the oven gloves, set them on the side. “Pippa?” Pippa looked over to her from where she was showing Max precisely how she wanted the biscuits iced. “I don’t suppose I could borrow a piece of paper and a pen, could I?”
“Of course, love. Down the hall and to the left—Simon’s study is in there.”
Josie brushed a hand over Max’s shoulder as she left. “I’ll be back in a sec.” He smiled up at her and nodded, then went back to concentrating on the decorating, his tongue poked out in concentration. It made something flutter in her heart, seeing him there, willing to get involved in things like this, just to stay with her and make sure she was OK.
She found the study and helped herself to paper and pen, then sat down to write the letter.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I’m missing you, as always—maybe more so this year, because I’m back home. But it’s nice, being here, and knowing I’m not the only one thinking of you. I should have come back here at Christmas before now, I know, but I hope you know it wasn’t because I didn’t want to think of you both on the day you died—it was because I was too scared to.
Memo is in hospital—maybe you already know that. I hope so much that she’ll be OK, but whatever happens, I promise I’m going to try harder to come back here. I don’t want to lose this place, or lose any part of you both.
Merry Christmas and lots of love,
Josie
Josie pressed her lips together, but it felt somehow cathartic, writing a slightly different letter, and she knew she wasn’t about to cry. She found an envelope, sealed it, and tucked it inside her coat on the way back to the kitchen.
An hour or so later, most of the gingerbread was finished and Josie and Max took their leave. Pippa gave them a gingerbread man each, wrapped up so they could eat them later. Josie hugged Pippa and Beth, and when she promised Pippa that she’d come back to visit soon, she meant it.
Josie hadn’t realized it had started to snow while they were inside, and she gasped slightly at the sight of a very thin layer covering the pavement. As they walked, tiny snowflakes nestled into Max’s hair, like flecks of blue ice in the fire. There had been no word from Helen all morning—Josie had texted a few times, but knew that she’d hear if anything drastic happened, one way or another. Still, now that she was outside, away from the distraction of people and baking, the fear was starting to creep back in.
She took Max’s cool hand in hers and he squeezed it. Without telling him, she led him toward the same post box she used to run to as a child, the same one to which she’d delivered her letters to Santa. Because he already knew about it, she didn’t have to explain when she slipped the letter inside, and this time neither of them said anything at all—it was enough for Josie just to have him with her. She couldn’t help wondering, briefly, if this was the start of a new Christmas tradition—delivering her letter with Max, every year—and knew that the hope that squeezed her heart at the thought was potentially a dangerous thing. Now was not the time to think too much on that, though, so she said nothing as they turned and walked hand in hand back to the cottage.
Josie sat curled up on the sofa once more, toasty warm from the fire. There was something comforting, and a little mesmerizing, about watching it eat away at the wood, sparking occasionally as it did so. Memo’s and Grandad’s red stockings hung above the fireplace as part of the Christmas decorations—sticklers for tradition, they did one for each other every year. She knew they would have kept doing one for her too, if she’d ever spent Christmas here.
Max was in the kitchen, insisting that he fix her a hot drink and a snack, even though he had no idea how to work the appliances, so she caught the occasional hiss or grunt as he tried to figure it out. While he was busy, she rang Helen.
“Hello, darling.” Her voice was a little tired, but it didn’t sound too panicked or emotional, which Josie took as a good sign.
“Hi. Have you heard anything—is there any update at all? Have you been allowed back in to see her?”
“Not yet—the afternoon visiting hours are about to stop, but she’s been in for another scan, apparently. I don’t think that’s a bad thing though—it means they’re looking after her, right?”