Their First Family Christmas

There was so much more she could have said. So much she would want to say—just in case this was the last chance she would ever have—but the bed was moving already.

‘I’ll call you when we’re through,’ the consultant said as she left. ‘Try not to worry—he’s going to get our platinum service.’

Emma was left standing in the empty space where the bed had been. Littered around her were the plastic wrappers from syringes and IV supplies. The top of a glass drug ampoule was still spinning after being knocked and an ECG electrode was stuck to the floor where it had been dropped. There were no Christmas decorations in here because it had been deemed inappropriate for patients—and their families—who might be facing an unsuccessful conclusion to a life-threatening crisis.

She could hear the sounds of a busy—and very well decorated—department just through the doors. Clearly, the first of the alcohol-related injuries were arriving, judging by the raised voices and the loud, tuneless singing of a Christmas carol that was happening out there.

It was only then that she realised she was standing in the same resus area that she’d been in last Christmas Eve. Where she’d had to sit and hold the hand of her best friend as Sarah had taken her last breaths.

She couldn’t hold back the tears by blinking now. Turning, she ripped some paper towels from the dispenser by the sink and pressed them to her face.

Only a few minutes ago, she’d been blessed by one of those jewels of excitement but now she was teetering on the edge of that dark space she never wanted to enter again.

It was all going wrong.

There would be no decorating the Christmas tree tonight and attaching those very special ornaments to the top. How many tears had been quietly shed as she’d crafted those two little felt angels—a mummy one and a daddy one—in memory of Lily’s parents? Putting them in pride of place at the top of the tree and sharing a moment of remembrance was going to be a new, private Christmas tradition just for her special little family.

Like kisses for Kissmas.

She wouldn’t be hanging up the stocking that she had embroidered Lily’s name on, either. No putting carrots out for the reindeer. No squeezy cuddles or sticky kisses to make everything seem worthwhile.

And no Jack, either.

Had she really thought that this anniversary might be the one thing that would persuade him to come back?

To see Lily, at least?

She’d been hoping for far too much. But right now, it didn’t seem to matter. She needed to refocus those hopes and give them all to Stuart for the next few hours. Knowing that he was going to be all right was the only Christmas magic she needed now.

‘You okay, Emma?’

‘Mmm.’ A quick swipe with the paper towels and Emma was ready to turn around. ‘How’s it going, Caroline?’

‘Not good, I’m sorry. I can’t find anyone to come in. Alistair’s going to stay on, though, and I can probably find an extra registrar from somewhere. We’ve cancelled our drinks. Nobody’s really in the mood anymore...’

‘I’ll stay,’ Emma told her.

‘But—’

‘There’s no way I’m going home until I hear how Stuart’s doing and by then Lily will be fast asleep, so I may as well stay until the morning crew gets here.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure. I just need to ring Mum and let her know what’s happening.’

She was getting good at these white lies, wasn’t she? Emma wasn’t at all sure about this. It would mean she would still be in the department late this evening and how hard was it going to be not to remember every agonising detail about last year?

But she didn’t have a choice.

Any more than she had had a year ago, when she’d given that solemn promise to Sarah.

She’d coped since then. And she would cope now.

Because that was how things had to be.

* * *

Man, it was cold...

Despite the full leather gear and a state-of-the-art helmet, Jack Reynolds was beginning to feel like he was frozen to the seat of the powerful motorbike beneath him.

It was time he took a break but he was so close now. In less than an hour he’d be hitting the outskirts of Glasgow and then he could find his motel and thaw out with a long, hot shower.

And tomorrow, he’d do something he’d sworn he’d never do.

He would celebrate Christmas.

Well...maybe celebrate wasn’t exactly the right word. This journey was more like the world’s biggest apology.

He just happened to have a brightly wrapped gift in the pannier of his bike that the sales assistant in Hamleys—London’s best toy shop—had assured him would be perfect for an eighteen-month-old child. The little girl he hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

His goddaughter.

And his niece...

A wave of the sensation that had grown from a flicker, that had been all too easy to bury months ago, to its current unpleasant burn generated a warmth that Jack would rather not be feeling right now, despite the chill of the wind seeping into his bones.

An unfamiliar feeling that he could only identify as shame.

Who knew that grief could mess with your head enough to turn you into someone you couldn’t even recognise?

How painful was it to start realising how much that could have hurt others?

At least Lily was too young to have been affected by it, but what on earth was he going to say to Emma to try and start mending bridges?

He’d been unbelievably selfish, hadn’t he?

It had been all about him. He’d lost his twin brother, Ben, in that dreadful accident and it had felt as if more than half of himself had died that night.

But Emma had lost Sarah, who’d been her best friend forever, and they’d been as close as sisters. Closer than most sisters, probably. What had given him the right to think his loss had been greater?

The traffic was building up as the M74 into Glasgow bypassed the township of Uddingston. Somewhere in the darkness to the left the river Clyde was shadowing his route into the city he’d never really expected to see again. He’d turned his back on everything there—and everyone—when he’d walked out all those months ago.

The rain spattering his visor felt different now. There was a sludgy edge to it that was making visibility worse than it had been and the lights of the vehicles around him were blurred and fragmented. Signposts warned of the major road changes ahead where the M73 joined the M74.

That was where it had happened, wasn’t it?

Where Ben and Sarah had had the accident that had claimed their lives exactly a year ago today?