Lucas is standing in the doorway to the hotel, framed by Grigg, Sameera, and Jem.
I can’t compute it. They don’t quite look real. But then they descend on me, burying me in one big hug, and behind us on the makeshift bedsheet screen the da Silvas are yelling Feliz Natal!
“Oh my God!” I say, emerging from the middle of the huddle and swiping my hair out of my face. “How are you all here?”
“Lucas,” Jem says, wearing her widest, warmest smile.
Sameera tucks my hair behind my ears and kisses me on the forehead as my eyes fill with tears.
“You! You!” she says. “Lying to all of us about where you were spending Christmas! This is not the time or place, but as soon as the festivities are over, I am going to have a right go at you. Oh, God, it’s so good to see you!”
“Lucas told on me?” I say, wiping my eyes as Grigg pulls me in for another hug. “You guys! You should be in the Outer Hebrides! And you should be in America!” I say to Jem.
“We fly back tonight,” Sameera tells me, grinning at Grigg. “His mum would kill us if we missed Christmas lunch, and I can’t be away from Rupe any longer or I will literally explode. But Jem is staying, right?”
“Absolutely,” Jem says. “As soon as Lucas messaged me, I thought . . . What am I doing here, being told it’s not too late for me to turn my life around, when I could be with people who love me and the life I’ve chosen? So Piddles and I jumped on the next flight.”
I squeeze her arm. I know that will have been a lot harder than she’s making it sound. Behind her, Lucas’s sister is yelling at him in fast Portuguese; Grigg and Sameera move aside so I can see Lucas’s expression, and it’s like going back in time and seeing what Lucas would have looked like as a little boy. His face has just lit up. Pure, stripped-back, childlike delight.
“Izzy!” Lucas’s mum calls. “Izzy, thank you for having us!”
“Oh my gosh, thank you for being here!” I shout up at the giant image hanging above the crowd, all of whom are staring at these goings-on with delight and/or bewilderment. “With very little notice! I know the twenty-fourth is the big day over there, and you’re right in the thick of Christmas, so thank you for taking the time.”
“Always, for Lucas,” she says, looking down at her son. “Love you. Miss you.”
“Saudade,” Lucas says, and he holds his hand to his heart, where the word is tattooed on his skin. “T? com muita saudade.”
“Tell them about the flights,” I say, coming to stand beside him.
“Feliz Natal!” shouts a little girl, popping up in the corner of the screen. One of the cousins, presumably, and totally adorable.
Lucas laughs. “Helena! Feliz Natal!”
“What flights?” says Ana. She was the one who set this up for me—I found her on Instagram last night. She loved the idea. It was Ana who came up with using the bedsheets.
“We’re coming home in February,” Lucas says, face breaking into another boyish grin.
“We!” Lucas’s mother shrieks in delight.
Lucas laughs and takes my hand. “Yes, both of us,” he says.
“That is, if you’ll have me,” I add.
“We’ve wanted you since that first photo, amiga,” Ana says. “Anyone who annoys Lucas that much belongs in this family.”
They stay for almost an hour. Helena and her brother learn how to say “I want more sweeties” in English, thanks to the potentially quite dangerous influence of Ruby Hedgers, and Ruby learns how to say “I want to go to Rio de Janeiro!” in Brazilian Portuguese, which might be a problem for Mr. and Mrs. Hedgers, given the cost of flights. But having the da Silvas hanging out over the party takes everything up a notch. By the time Arjun declares the evening buffet open, complete with an array of desserts in the orangery, everyone is very loud, very happy, and—for the most part—very drunk.
“Your friend, she’s so beautiful!” Pedro shouts at me as we dance.
He’s here as a guest but spent at least an hour helping Arjun in the kitchen, and doubled up as a magician for a while when our actual magician had to take a phone call. We are not afraid to accept a favour here at Forest Manor Hotel, and it turns out Lucas’s friend is way too generous for his own good.
“Jem, you mean?”
I look back at her—she’s dancing with a few of the women from housekeeping, eyes closed, hips swaying. She’s in her favourite dress, the red velvet one with a sweetheart neckline, and her dark brown skin is sprayed with fine gold glitter. All her piercings are gold today, too, shining under the Christmas lights. She does look gorgeous.