Make a Christmas Wish

by Julia Williams

  But somehow Emily managed to take a wrong turn, and ended up getting to Charing Cross at nearly 6.30. Her feet were damp and cold, the crowds were still huge, and there were more drunks about now. Could this journey get any worse? And didn’t any of these smiley cheerful Christmas crowds have homes to go to? Emily had always imagined London was deserted on Christmas Eve.

  She forced her way through the seething hordes, and did something she’d never done before, pushing her way on to the Tube past people who had been waiting longer than her. All sense of propriety was gone; Emily simply had to get on that train. She squeezed herself in beside three City types who were singing raucously and two office girls, sporting Santa hats and talking loudly about the party they were going to. Emily felt that she was in hell.

  The Tube at least was quick, and spat her out at Euston at a quarter to seven. It was tight but she could still make it. Emily bowled her way up the escalators, but when she got to the ticket barrier, her ticket stubbornly refused to work. Emily stood and queued by the gate where a ticket inspector was standing. He was taking forever and Emily was frantic by the time he finally let her pass on to the teeming concourse where a group of carol singers stood in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree.

  Her train was up on the board, and they were calling for passengers. She had five minutes, but the train was on platform 4, halfway across the station.

  Emily started to run.

  Adam

  After a slow start our train seems to speed through most of the stops and we get to Vauxhall really quickly. We’re intending to change there, but there’s a problem on the Victoria line, so we stay on till Waterloo.

  Emily still isn’t answering my calls or texts. And the time is ticking away. It’s gone 6.15 by the time we get to Waterloo. There’s time, but only just, as Joe keeps reminding me, telling me precisely how many minutes to our train.

  The three of us plough down the escalators to the Underground, frustrated by the number of gormless people standing in our way, singing and shouting. It’s hot and crowded and nightmarish, and I can feel Joe struggling. Crowds make him claustrophobic.

  We get on the platform and it’s heaving. I stupidly hadn’t twigged there’d be so many tourists in London for Christmas. I’d also thought most of the people heading out of town for the holidays would have gone already, but judging by the suitcases I am wrong. We have to let two trains go and there are so many people piling on the next one, the train is stuck in the station for ages.

  ‘Twenty-five minutes,’ says Joe. ‘And it takes sixteen minutes on the Underground and five minutes to walk to the station.’

  ‘Thanks, Joe,’ I say, though that isn’t helping. Only four minutes to spare.

  Livvy squeezes my arm. ‘It will be fine,’ she says, ‘we can still make it.’

  I flash her a grateful smile, relieved she’s on my side, and feeling weirdly comforted that for the first time in years we’re actually working together. It reminds me that not everything about our relationship was bad, and I’m glad to have the opportunity to see her at her best.

  ‘Six fifty,’ Joe announces as we pull into Warren Street. ‘Two minutes to Euston, five minutes to the station, we still have three minutes spare.’

  ‘Not helping now, Joe,’ I say between gritted teeth. My heart is pounding in my chest.

  Joe looks puzzled.

  ‘It’s helpful to know,’ I try to explain, ‘not so good for my stress levels.’

  We reach Euston and pour off in relief. I feel like I’ve got the wind at my back, and my feet are flying. Livvy and Joe are clearly struggling to keep up as I force my way through the frustratingly slow crowds. Don’t any of them have trains to catch?

  ‘Just go!’ says Livvy. ‘We’ll catch up with you.’

  And I am haring off, shoving my way up the escalators. Three sodding lots of escalators. And one of them’s broken. Why do there have to be so many? I’m out of breath by the time I make it to the station concourse. I’ve probably pissed a lot of people off. But I don’t care. All I know is the clock is ticking and I have to stop Emily getting on that train.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Emily

  Emily was racing to the platform, out of breath, her chest tight and her legs aching, but she could see the train was there. Three minutes to go. She should just make it. The ticket inspector was slow, and took an age to look at her ticket – what was it with all these inspectors today? – before eventually clipping it and letting her through. Emily ran on to the platform at the exact minute the whistle blew. No, this couldn’t be happening. The train wasn’t due to leave for another two minutes. Emily legged it towards the doors but they shut in her face. She pounded furiously on them to try and get the guard to open them again but it was too late. The train was already pulling out of the station. She stood there frozen in disbelief. She couldn’t have missed the damned thing, she couldn’t.

  Now what the hell was she going to do? She stood for about ten minutes, completely irresolute. Emily had no idea when the next train to Rugby was, but it was probably booked up. The ticket she’d bought was for a very specific time, and she probably wouldn’t be allowed to use it on another train. She burst out into angry tears. At this rate it would be midnight before she got home, and God knew how much she would have to spend on a new ticket.

  The barrier was opening up again. Emily marched up to give the ticket inspector a piece of her mind. If it hadn’t been for him, she’d have got that train. But he seemed to have vanished. Great. Emily could have hit something in frustration. She could see from the boards that the next train was delayed, and when she got back to the concourse the queue at the ticket office was so crazy she couldn’t quite face it. So instead she went to buy herself a coffee and stood disconsolately listening to the carol singers to consider her options.

  She’d have to ring Dad at some point, to tell him she’d missed the train. Emily delved into the bottom of her backpack to get her phone. She’d shoved it down there so she wouldn’t be tempted to ring Adam. Oh bloody hell. The battery had died. Did they even have public phones any more? Emily had no idea. She felt lost and lonely and wished she could be anywhere but here. The station was heaving and people were getting in her way as they had done all evening. After grumpily queueing up for her coffee, she then bit the bullet and made her way back towards the ticket office. Perhaps she could find some kind soul who’d let her borrow their phone. After all, even if Emily didn’t feel the vibe, it was Christmas …

  Adam

  I scan the departure boards frantically. There it is, going from platform 4. I race towards the right, across the concourse, not caring who I mow down on my way. I speed down the gangway to the platform, I’m going to make it … there are still people going through. My lungs are bursting and my heart is hammering, but as I reach the ticket barrier the ticket inspector stops me short. I hear a whistle blow, and the train draws slowly out of the station.

  I bend over, panting. My whole body hurts. Emily’s gone. I’ve lost her.

  I bang my fist against the railing in frustration. I was so close, but now it’s too late. Livvy and Joe come racing up behind me, catching their breath.

  ‘I didn’t get there in time,’ I say bleakly. ‘I missed her.’

  ‘Oh Adam,’ says Livvy, and gives me a hug. It feels warm and comforting, the hug of a friend, not a wife.

  ‘So that’s it, I’ve lost her,’ I say. I don’t know what to do now. I have spent all my energy getting here, and now she’s gone. I have never felt so bleak in my entire life.

  ‘Come on,’ says Livvy. ‘Don’t give up. Maybe you could drive up tomorrow instead.’

  Weather permitting – they’re predicting snow tonight – that’s a good point, but it doesn’t stop me feeling as if I’ve let Emily slip through my fingers.

  ‘No point hanging round here anyway,’ I say, and we head up to the main concourse. There are still hordes of people fighting to get on their trains, but it’s hard to feel sympathy
for them at this precise moment. I wish they’d all just bugger off out of my way.

  We walk disconsolately back towards the Underground. I think Joe and Livvy feel just as let down as I am. I am so wrapped in misery, I don’t notice at first that Livvy is tugging on my arm.

  ‘Adam,’ she says, with a catch in her voice.

  ‘What?’ I say irritably.

  ‘Look,’ she says.

  And then the crowds part before us and miraculously Emily is standing there in front of me. She says, ‘Oh,’ as she takes in that I’m with Joe and Livvy. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ I say, and then everything else is forgotten as we run into each other’s arms.

  Livvy

  ‘So you did it,’ a voice next to me says. ‘Well done.’

  It’s a ticket inspector.

  ‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ Who is this random stranger talking to me?

  ‘Oh, sorry, I forgot.’ The ticket inspector dissolves and Malachi is winding his way round my legs. ‘As I was saying, well done. You did it.’

  ‘Thank you. So, what happens now?’ I say. ‘Am I still stuck here for eternity? After all, I’ve clearly missed the boat with Adam.’

  It feels good to have helped Emily and Adam, who are clinging to each other like limpets, but I’m not looking forward to spending the rest of eternity in Underworld. I mean I had some fun times and I enjoy flirting with Steve, but do I really want to spend the afterlife in Robert’s company?

  ‘Not exactly,’ says Malachi. ‘You sacrificed your needs for theirs, which negates the effect of Letitia’s potion’ – now he tells me – ‘and now you have twenty-four hours’ grace. You need to say your goodbyes. I’d start with Joe if I were you.’

  ‘Mum, were you talking to a cat?’ asks Joe.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ I say.

  ‘You have to go away now, don’t you?’ says Joe.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry but I do.’

  ‘That makes me sad,’ he says.

  ‘Me too,’ I say. ‘And I’m sorry I don’t get to see you all grown up, but I know you are going to be a fine young man one day, and you’ll have Dad and Emily helping you all the way. Much better than your rubbish mum.’

  ‘You’re not a rubbish mum,’ says Joe. ‘You’re my mum and you’re brilliant. I’m glad I got to tell you. It’s been bothering me.’

  ‘I’m glad too,’ I say, tears streaming down my face.

  ‘I love you, Joe,’ I say. ‘I always will. Merry Christmas, Joe.’

  ‘I love you too, Mum,’ says Joe, words I never thought I’d hear my son say.

  And then he hugs me, properly hugs me for the first time in my whole life. And we stand for a while and I cry for everything I’ve lost and all the things we’re never going to do together. But thanks to Malachi, I’ve had a glimpse of the future and I know Joe will be OK.

  And now I’m fading, and Joe feels insubstantial to me again. ‘I’m so proud of what you will be,’ I whisper, and then Euston fades away, and I’m back in the car park with Malachi again.

  ‘Now what?’ I say.

  ‘You go on your next journey,’ says Malachi. ‘I can’t help you with that bit.’

  ‘I’d like to see them one last time,’ I say.

  ‘You will,’ says Malachi, ‘you will.’

  And then he vanishes and, for once, I’m sorry to see him go.

  Epilogue

  Christmas Night

  They’re sitting around the table, all of them: Mum, Adam, Joe, Emily and even Emily’s dad who came down by car this morning, at Adam’s insistence. I’ve been watching them all day, though none of them are aware of me. I saw Adam and Mum making up, Mum in tears, when she finds out what happened. I’ve watched them drink champagne, and eat turkey. I’ve seen them pull crackers, and unwrap presents, and laugh together. Emily has put on a Christmas carols CD, and I love standing in the kitchen listening to the carols playing, it reminds me of being a little girl with Mum and Dad and Gran on Christmas Day. I don’t mind not being part of it. I’m content to see them like this. And now my eyes are clearer, I can see how well suited Emily and Adam are. They look good together, and I’m glad.

  Malachi appears through the cat flap.

  ‘It’s time,’ he says. I am ready. Malachi has shown me what the future will be, and I’m happy for Adam. All my anger and pain have gone, and I feel at peace. I’ve come back and done what I had to do, and now I have to go.

  The door blows open and everyone jumps. I follow Malachi out into the snowy garden. It’s a really starry night. I know, but can’t feel any more, that it is very cold.

  ‘How did that cat get in here?’ says Adam.

  ‘I think it wants us to follow it,’ says Emily.

  ‘It’s Mum’s friend,’ says Joe.

  They all follow Malachi into the garden. And then Joe says, ‘It’s Mum,’ and I know they can all see me.

  ‘Livvy,’ says Adam.

  ‘It’s all right, Adam, I’m going now,’ I say. ‘I’ll always always love you. Please don’t forget that. I’m glad of what we had together, and I’m happy for you. Try to think kindly of me sometimes.’

  Emily leans into him a little. ‘Livvy, thanks for what you did,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry it has to be like this.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ I tell her. ‘It’s just the way it is. Look after them for me, won’t you?’

  ‘I will,’ she says, tears in her eyes.

  And then I turn to Kenneth, and say, ‘And you’d better look after my mum, or I’ll be back to haunt you.’

  ‘Oh, I intend to,’ says Kenneth, who seems to be completely unfazed to be talking to a ghost. I decide I like him. I’m glad Mum’s not going to be alone.

  Mum stands there a little apart, and I go to her, and hug her. I can feel her warmth, but I don’t know if she can feel me.

  ‘Thanks for everything, Mum,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t make it easy for you, and was such a disappointment.’

  ‘Oh my darling girl,’ says Mum, ‘you could never be that.’

  And finally I turn to Joe, my beloved son, and say, ‘Remember to be happy, and remember I will always look after you. You watch for Venus in the morning and evening. When you see that, remember me, and know that I am always thinking of you.’

  ‘’Bye Mum,’ says Joe, and he smiles such a smile, it makes my heart expand with joy. I’ve done my job well after all.

  And then everything starts to fade.

  ‘Time to go,’ says Malachi.

  ‘Thanks for everything,’ I say, ‘and for putting up with me.’

  ‘Oh get away with you,’ he says gruffly. ‘You’re a walk in the park compared to the one I have to deal with next.’

  The stars are shining very bright now, and our garden is fading to blackness, and I feel a sense of peace and contentment as I walk away and leave my life for the very last time.

  Joe’s Notebook

  A mum is many things.

  Sometimes she is kind and nice.

  Sometimes she makes mistakes.

  It was good to get my mum back.

  But I know she had to go away again.

  Even though it makes me sad.

  I like it that my dad is happy with Emily.

  I like it that Granny has found Kenneth.

  And my mum did that.

  And every year at Christmas I will look up at the stars, and make my Christmas wish.

  And my mum will make it come true.

  Because my mum is a star in the sky.

  Acknowledgements

  As usual there are many many people who supported me during the writing of this book.

  I’d like to thank Etta Saunders Bingham for generously sharing her experiences of having an autistic son. I hope I’ve got it right, Etta!

  I’d also like to thank all the many friends on Facebook who responded to an appeal to name my spirit guide cat – who knew there were so many great names to choose from? But particular thanks
go to Lisa Lacourarie who came up with Malachi, which is just perfect!

  My agent Oli Munson has provided enthusiastic and helpful support throughout the writing of Make a Christmas Wish – I hope you like the end result!

  The team at Avon as usual have worked really hard on my behalf, but especial thanks go to Eli Dryden, my amazing editor. Without your acute and brilliant insights, this book wouldn’t be what it is. You made me work extremely hard, but I think the end result is worth it!

  And finally I’d like to say a massive thank you to you, the reader. Without you, my ideas would be nothing, condemned forever to whirl crazily round my head while my husband questions my sanity. Thank you for taking the time to pick this up, and thank you those of you who tweet me or email me. It really means a lot!

  With apologies to both Dickens and Noel Coward, I’d like to also thank them for the inspiration. Livvy appeared in my head as a very angry ghost some years ago. It’s been great fun finally telling her story. I hope you have as much fun reading it!

  Julia

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