Driving Home for Christmas

by A. L. Michael

  ‘Hey stranger,’ a voice said casually from behind her.

  Oh shit.

  She turned, and there he was, leaning on a doorframe and lighting up a cigarette like he was seventeen again. Except the smart coat and the reindeer scarf sang more of parental responsibility than life on the road. You knew this would happen, her brain taunted, you wanted him to find you.

  ‘Hey…you,’ Megan’s voice seemed to have disappeared into the cold, and she wrinkled her nose to dislodge a snowflake that had settled.

  ‘Going to have to check which one of us in the village won the bet about which year you’d come home. I put my money on 2010, so I’ve lost either way. But Frank in the butcher’s and Marco at Vittorio might still be in with a chance.’

  Lucas had always been good at cool. When Fliss the Blockbuster girl had dumped him after two weeks of snogging and not much else, he’d written “A girl with tattoos got my heart like a needle”, and performed it in the video store. It got a lot of hits on Myspace and he left with a newly-made groupie on each arm.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry you lost out,’ Megan shrugged, stamping to keep warm. What was there to say? I’m sorry I left you? I’m sorry I lied? I’m sorry I hurt you but it was the best decision of my life?

  ‘In more ways than one,’ Lucas said simply, his brow furrowed, eyes dark in the dim lighting of the pub garden. Megan reached into her pockets for her gloves, pulled them onto her shaking, numb hands with effort.

  ‘Well, I’d better be going. I liked your set.’

  ‘Any of it sound familiar?’

  ‘You always stole from real life.’ She smiled softly, looking for a chink in the armour. His face was impassive, eyes darker than they used to be. ‘I’m sorry, inspired by real life to create illusion,’ she corrected.

  ‘If the feeling is real, then the story is too,’ Lucas nodded, remembering some ancient mantra he must have said once to her, a lifetime ago. It sounded like him.

  ‘It was good to see you, I’ve got to go–’ she started off the path, trying to get away before he could ask her.

  ‘Megan,’ he said. ‘Why did you go?’

  She turned, shivering, the cold and the snow, and those last mystical chords of each song that reverberated through her history with this man seemed to cut her to the core.

  ‘Because there was no point dragging you down with me,’ Megan said simply, arms wide, waiting for him to argue or shout or shrug and leave her standing there. Why had he offered? Why had he wanted to save her? Why did she have to be the bad one?

  ‘Do you regret anything?’

  Yes, she was wanted to scream. Yes, I should have stayed with you, and my parents would have softened and I wouldn’t have this chronic twinge in my chest when I think of you, or this ache now that you’re really here, staring at me like I let you down. And then Megan thought of Anna, of Jeremy. Of singing in the kitchen on Sunday mornings, of Pulp Fiction dance-offs, of Christmas decorations and Special Sangria, and the old biddies who showered her baby with presents and cookies and kindness. She couldn’t regret anything.

  ‘She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,’ Megan shrugged, and trudged up the hill, leaving him to watch her go. Which was more than she’d offered him before.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Okay, so give me a list of suspects.’ Skye sat on the kitchen counter, taking out her notebook, whilst Heather searched for a missing pack of biscuits.

  ‘Suspects?’

  ‘Yes,’ Skye said seriously, ‘so I can start my investigation.’

  Megan entered the room and ruffled Skye’s hair. ‘Skye McAllister and the case of the missing bourbons? Doesn’t really do you justice, hun.’

  Skye rolled her eyes, and jumped down from the side. ‘So what are we doing today?’

  Megan got herself a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a coffee, taking a moment to savour the good stuff her dad always insisted on buying from the farmers’ market. It was imported from South America, and it made him feel good thinking the money was going straight to Mr and Mrs Hernandez, or whoever owned the land, which probably wasn’t true at all. It tasted excellent though. She shook her head and focused on her daughter.

  ‘You were never this demanding, why can’t you just read a book?’ Megan shrugged.

  ‘Because there’s important work to be done,’ Skye said sternly, ‘and also, I’ve finished all my books.’

  ‘I’ve got an entire room of them upstairs.’

  ‘Babbling stories about teenage witches? Sorry Mum, not really my thing.’ Skye shared a glance with her grandmother.

  ‘Well all right, Snooty, if you feel that way I won’t take you out to the bookshop to buy you something.’

  ‘It’s five days til Christmas, you can’t buy her presents!’ Heather said in surprise, waving the lost packet of biscuits in triumph. ‘I found them!’

  ‘I will buy my daughter a present whenever I damn well please,’ Megan said, trying for jokey, but failing. Her mother looked at her and nodded. ‘Right, of course.’

  Crap. Why was everything so bloody difficult?

  ‘Anyway, we don’t need more things for you to read, because you’re meeting your cousin today. I’m sure he’ll keep you busy.’

  Skye tugged at her dark plait. ‘Mum, he’s five.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s why you’re going to be busy.’ Megan wriggled her eyebrows.

  Her head still hurt, but she wasn’t sure if it was the bad cocktails, dehydration, or Lucas. He was here, he was really here. And now the memory of him was sitting in her gut like a marble. Every time she moved, she was reminded of him. Holding her hand as they walked down the street, performing, singing and laughing. She wouldn’t let her mind wander to the bad times. To saying goodbye, or Belinda, or Joey or any of that stuff that happened when she tried to do the right thing. She shook the history away and focused on Skye.

  ‘Skye McAllister…what are you wearing?’ Megan tilted her head to the side to assess her daughter’s Christmas jumper.

  ‘Don’t you like it? Me and Grandma worked on it last night,’ Skye said innocently.

  The red woolly jumper, a Heather McAllister original that probably used to be hers, Megan thought, had been sewn into with gold thread. Except the reindeer outline was so skewed that his head seemed to be bent at a strange angle.

  Heather nudged her. ‘It’s unique isn’t it? Just like Skye.’

  She smiled at her grandchild, then made a face at Megan to say ‘don’t make the kid feel bad at how awful it looks.’

  Megan shook her head as Heather left the room.

  ‘You did that on purpose, I’ve seen you sew your own school uniform. You’re probably better than my mother,’ Megan said knowingly.

  Skye grinned. ‘But don’t you think it’s unique? I was actually thinking it would be a good band symbol – Dead Rudolph. What do you think?’

  Megan looked around to an invisible audience. ‘I swear I didn’t drink when I was pregnant. Where are you getting this stuff from?’

  ‘Um, maybe because there have been Christmas carols playing on this radio non-stop and I’m going crazy?’ Skye shrugged, and moved a little closer. ‘Plus I miss Anna. She hasn’t called and she said she would.’

  Megan stroked her daughter’s hair. ‘We’ll give her another day, then we’ll call her and complain about how much fun she’s having without us.’

  Later that day, Matty, Claudia and Jasper arrived. Claudia was exactly how Megan remembered her from that one visit ten years ago. Cold and expensive. Plus she looked exactly the same. Megan had aged, got plumper and more worn, but Claudia looked like she’d been kept in bubble wrap, like a beautiful angel you only got out to put on the tree, then hid away the rest of the year. Her white blonde hair was pulled back tightly in a bun, and she kissed Megan on both cheeks, smirking a little at Megan’s surprise.

  ‘It’s so lovely to see you after all this time,’ she said graciously, her ice-blue eyes wide and unblinking. Then she transferred her
attention to Skye. ‘Well aren’t you darling?’

  ‘I really wouldn’t know,’ Skye said, lips pursed, hands on hips.

  ‘Babe, now is not the time to be precocious,’ Megan whispered, ‘be nice.’

  ‘I am being nice, I’m not a darling. I’m a pain in the bum sometimes!’ Skye said loudly, and Megan shrugged, focusing on her brother, who laughed loudly.

  Matty looked older, his face widened and slightly more ruddy, like he’d started playing rugby, or went hiking at the weekends. His dark hair still stood up at all angles, and his eyes were a mirror of her own.

  ‘All right, big brother?’ she grinned, fully, for the first time since she’d found out they had to come back here.

  ‘Hey kid,’ he smiled, ‘I’d hug you, but I’ve got my hands full of someone.’

  His son was small and pale, with Matty’s messy mop of dark hair, and his mother’s pale skin. He blinked at Megan, his eyes a darker blue than Claudia’s.

  ‘Jazz, say hi to your auntie and your cousin,’ Matty prodded.

  The boy just stared at them, eyes wide, expression completely blank.

  ‘He doesn’t really talk,’ Matty shrugged.

  ‘That’s okay.’ Skye strode forward and started signing along with her hands as she spoke. ‘We can talk in other ways.’

  The child’s eyes followed her fingers, and broke out into a large smile. But still said nothing, just sat in his father’s arms, smiling at Skye.

  ‘I…don’t think he’s deaf, hun.’ Megan put her hands on Skye’s shoulders. ‘I think what Matty meant was that Jasper’s a little shy.’

  ‘Oh!’ Skye shrugged. ‘Sorry!’ She turned to him and held out a hand. ‘Do you want to come and play with me upstairs? There’s lots of really cool things in my mum’s room.’

  Jasper nodded and reached out a hand for her. Matty put him on the floor and watched in awe as his son took Skye’s hand and wandered off.

  ‘That honestly never happens.’ Matty shook his head.

  ‘She speaks sign language?’ Claudia asked in interest, or as much interest as someone so passive could muster. ‘Is she deaf?’

  ‘No, I taught her.’

  ‘Why do you know sign language?’ Heather asked, bringing in a tray with a floral teapot and a plate with the missing bourbons. Megan felt a pang for Anna’s Christmas Sangria and champagne truffles.

  ‘Because I’m a speech and language therapist.’ Megan shook her head. ‘I work with deaf kids. Didn’t Anna tell you that?’

  ‘She refused to tell me anything about you,’ her mother said stiffly, ‘only about Skye. She said you were an adult and you deserved not to be spied on.’

  ‘Oh,’ Megan said, not really sure how that made her feel. All those years she’d thought her mother knew about her life but didn’t really care. Maybe she would have liked to know what career she’d ended up in. ‘Why didn’t you ask when I got here?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was my place,’ Heather said lightly. ‘Everyone help yourselves to tea, I’ll go and drag Jonathan from the den.’

  She scuttled out of the room, and Megan sighed.

  ‘We came just at the right time then?’ Matty said, settling down on the sofa and sticking three biscuits in his mouth.

  His wife watched in disdain, then turned to Megan. ‘Has it been difficult?’

  ‘Not so far, but God knows it will be at some point,’ she shrugged.

  There was the heavy clang of the doorbell, and Megan heard the start of “Good King Wenceslas”.

  ‘It’s carol singers!’ she yelled to her mother.

  ‘There’s money on the side. It’s probably the school choir!’ Heather called back from the kitchen, and something about the exchange made Megan’s stomach flip, it was so…domestic. They could have had the same conversation ten years ago, her stomping around as a teenager, always yelling from room to room.

  Matty dragged Claudia with him from the sofa, and they all went to the front door.

  The choir were less angelic when you saw them, pimpled teens shivering as they sang, clutching styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, their braces flashing in the porch light every time they opened their mouths.

  And standing behind them, of course, was Lucas Bright, grinning for all he was worth. Why? Why was he grinning, wearing that stupid Where’s Wally scarf and a hat that made him look like a child who wanted to be a pilot? He stared at Megan, eyes as bright as ever, and she couldn’t tell if it was the kind of smirk he’d have saved for her when she fell off the stage trying to crowd surf that time, or the kind of smirk he’d given her last night as he watched her from that same stage.

  The teenagers stopped singing, and she, Matty and Claudia clapped.

  ‘That was wonderful,’ she told them, nodding insistently, not meeting Lucas’ eyes. She felt her brother bristle beside her, but ignored it, too busy focusing on ignoring Lucas.

  ‘What charity are you raising money for this year?’ Claudia asked, her head buried in her massive Prada purse, probably failing to find anything less than a twenty-pound note. That woman did not trifle with small change.

  ‘Garret Oaks… It’s a home for teenage mothers,’ Lucas said. There was a moment of silence.

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me, Bright?’ Matty roared and reached through the teenagers, who scattered, to grab Lucas and punch him square in the face. ‘You think that’s funny, you dickhead? After what you did to my sister?’

  Matty was a big guy, and the force sent Lucas to the floor. He looked up at Matty from the damp cobblestones and held up his hands, ‘Okay, but…can I get the kids out of the way first?’

  Matty took a deep breath and gave a short nod, his mouth a thin line.

  ‘Guys, carry on round to the next few houses, okay? Don’t go further than Parson Street, I’ll catch you up.’

  ‘You…you gonna be okay, sir?’ a small lad puffed himself up, his glasses misting from how wrapped up in scarves and woolly garments he was.

  ‘Yes, Andrew, thanks mate, go ahead.’ Lucas watched them leave, then stood up and tried to dust himself off. Which was impossible as the grey patchy snow left water marks. He shivered a little.

  ‘Matty, that really was the charity,’ he shrugged, ‘I wasn’t being funny, mate, honestly.’

  ‘Don’t call me your mate, after what you did.’

  ‘Um.’ Megan put up her hand. ‘What did he do exactly?’

  They stared at her in silence, Matty’s eyes almost falling out of his head.

  ‘Knocked you up! Sent you away! Failed to be a father to that amazing kid you’ve got in there! Any of this ringing a bell?’ Matty huffed, hands all over the place. He looked just like their dad when faced with a crisis, all limbs and gravity, unsure of what to do.

  Megan turned to Lucas, her head tilted slightly as she searched his eyes for the answer. He looked down at the cobbles, then back to her.

  ‘You let them think it was you?’ she asked him. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘No one really asked.’ He shrugged at the ground, and then grinned, that same old cavalier who the fuck cares look. ‘Besides, everyone knows I’m an arsehole who’d do something like that, so the story fits, right?’

  No you wouldn’t, she thought. You didn’t.

  ‘It wasn’t Lucas?’ Matty said in disbelief.

  ‘No!’ Megan slapped his chest half-heartedly. ‘And you could have asked before beating the crap out of him!’

  Matty’s face melted into apologies and guilt. ‘I’m so sorry, man.’ He grabbed Lucas’ hand and shook it. ‘You know I always liked you, it’s just…’ he gestured at Megan, ‘you know.’

  ‘Blaming me because you didn’t think to fact check?’ Megan rolled her eyes.

  ‘Well, it’s not the first time,’ Lucas grinned, touching his jaw,. ‘That one a couple of Christmases ago, down by the Nag’s, that one was a shiner. Thank goodness we were off school or the kids would have torn me down.’

  ‘He’s done this before? ’ Megan screeched.r />
  ‘Pretty much every time we’ve crossed paths,’ Matty admitted, hands in pocked, shoulders hunched.

  ‘I told him it was ridiculous,’ Claudia said, ‘but in his mind, his perfect little sister wouldn’t have slept around…’

  Megan winced. ‘Well, as lovely as this has been–’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lucas added.

  ‘Uhuh,’ Matty complied.

  A voice boomed from behind them, ‘What is he doing here?’

  ‘Oh crap,’ Megan sighed, ‘not you too.’

  She watched as her father tried to puff himself up to his full size, which would have been intimidating if he didn’t look so uncomfortable about it all.

  ‘Mr McAllister…’ Lucas started, hands up.

  ‘Oh for fuck’s sake – HE DIDN’T KNOCK ME UP!’ Megan shouted.

  Jonathan stopped, looking at his daughter. ‘He didn’t? Well who the bloody hell did?’

  ‘An idiot.’

  ‘Any more details you want to give us, Meg?’ Matty asked.

  ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t mind knowing either, seeing as I’ve been getting the guy’s share of beatings over the last ten years,’ Lucas added, arms crossed and thoroughly enjoying himself.

  Megan felt like she was about to explode.

  ‘It doesn’t MATTER!’ she yelled.

  ‘What doesn’t matter?’ a small voice asked from behind her. Skye stood there, peering out at the scene where her grandfather had hulked out, her uncle was looking embarrassed, her aunt was bored, her mum was angry and there was some dark-haired guy looking like he was having way too good a time. Skye homed in on him.

  ‘Did you cause all this?’ she asked, sounding distinctly like she wanted to add a ‘young man’ to the end of that question. Way too many mini dramas for Skye, Megan thought to herself. But why not let him see what getting on the wrong side of a McAllister would do?

  ‘I have no idea what you mean, miss,’ he smirked, tipping his hat.