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CHAPTER ONE

1 December: 24 days until Christmas

Do not screw this up! I repeat to myself, over and over again. My nails dig into my palms as my knuckles clench and my eyes squeeze so tightly shut that my nose wrinkles like a bulldog’s. Do not be embarrassing! I hear my voice in my head, stern and firm.

I breathe in the familiar smell, savouring it and saving some for later. I’d know it anywhere. It’s home. Not the house, or the furnishings, just a place where I feel I belong. And I’m wondering how I’ll cope without it. Like a boat set adrift from its mooring, I expect. Without that smell, that feeling, a house is not a home.

‘Mum.’ There’s a tap on my forearm, gentle at first, like a paw from a pup wanting attention. Then it becomes more urgent, like a wrestler tapping his opponent to time out. My eyes ping open.

‘I can’t breathe!’ Ruben looks up at me, but only just. He’s grown again. Any time now he’ll be taller than me. Not that that’s hard, I’m only five foot three, but it seems weird that my child will be the same height as me and that I shall soon be looking up at him. But it happens. Time flies. I want to stop the clocks. Stay as we are. Keep things just like this. But I can’t.

‘Sorry, sorry.’ I loosen my grip on my son’s neck. I seem to have him and his big parka in a tight head lock – I splashed out on his coat as an early Christmas present, even though I was worrying about where the money would come from. It’s always the same at this time of year. Work is on hold for the next couple of months: the campsite caf. is closed. That’s how it is. You take the money when the tourists are in town and hope it’ll keep you going when they’ve departed. I just have to be careful. It’s not only me who relies on my small pot of savings.

I look at Ruben. I mustn’t embarrass him! Mums are known for it. The one thing I definitely mustn’t do is cry.

I feel his arms slide around my waist, hugging me back. A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth and I breathe in deeply, trying to hold back the tears behind my screwed-up eyes. Breathe, Chloë! I’m reminded me all over again of the day he was born, the rush of love and the fear of never being good enough. ‘Breathe!’ the midwife told me, and I did. I do now, closing my eyes and trying to remember each note I can smell. The freshly washed hair. The detergent I’ve always used. Sweet chewing gum and something else, something that makes him Ruben. My little boy. I’m imprinting this moment into my brain and onto my heart so that I can remember it when I need it.

He lets go of the hug and I release him and his teddy bear, Joe. He’s had it since he was a baby, bought for him by my dad, a proud grandfather, named after my great-grandfather Joseph, Dad’s grandfather. Dad said if I wasn’t going to call the baby Joseph, the bear would be Joe. Ruben has never slept without him, and after Dad died, Joe seemed even more important. I grabbed him as we left the house to stuff into Ruben’s case. Along with a jar of Marmite. He has it on toast every morning, always has.

I take another huge breath and smile widely.

Ruben looks at me quizzically. ‘You going to be okay Mum?’

‘Of course! And you are going to have the best Christmas ever! With your dad . . .’ I hear the crack in my voice and push on through it ‘. . . and meeting your new sister – in New York, for Heaven’s sake! Who wouldn’t want to go to New York for Christmas?’

‘I just wish you were coming too. I hate the thought of you being here on your own at Christmas.’

I’m hugging Joe and the jar of Marmite to my chest.

‘Don’t worry about me! I’ve got so much planned. And I want to hear about everything you’ll be doing. Go and have the best time.’ I straighten the hood on his coat by way of a distraction. ‘Have you got all the numbers stored on your phone?’

He rolls his eyes. ‘Yes, Mum. And I’ve got my emergency money, separate from my wallet. And I won’t speak to strangers. Or get into cars if I’m offered sweets.’

‘I’m serious, Ruben.’ The panic I’ve been trying to harness since this was first arranged rushes up inside me, like a wave gathering speed and size. He smiles, and the wave of panic falls back. I pull him in for one last hug. ‘Don’t forget the work school has set you and the Zooms you need to join. They’ve been really good letting you have this time off to see your dad. Make sure you finish all the stuff they’ve given you to do. It’s an important time for your studies now you’re in secondary school.’

‘We’ll be fine, Chloë.’ I hear his voice and my head shoots up. The familiar figure is standing behind Ruben at a thoughtful distance. I’d almost forgotten he was there. And it seems weird to see Lucas in person. It’s been so long. ‘We’ll make sure he does it. And I promise to look after him and bring him back in one piece.’ He smiles.

‘I know you will.’ I try really hard to smile back, but my cheeks hurt as the muscles are so tense. ‘You’re his dad!’ The word catches in my throat and I cough to clear it. ‘And we put presents for you, Lizzie and the baby in his case. And there’s some Marmite – just in case you can’t get it over there. I know it’s your favourite too!’ I wave the jar from the security of my chest.

‘I forgot to put it in his case!’ I say, feeling very distracted.

He laughs. ‘Thank you! But he’ll have plenty of new things to try when we get there. Lizzie is a great cook.’

I swallow. I used to cook, come up with new ideas for the summer season in the café. But this year I’ve had neither the ideas nor the inclination. Summer at the café next year will be much like last year.

There’s a moment’s awkward silence. I can tell Lucas doesn’t want to rush me or make this difficult for Ruben, but I also know they have to go.

‘Come on, move along there,’ says a member of the airport staff, as we stand at the entrance to Departures, people having to navigate around us. ‘You’re blocking the way,’ he says impatiently.

Ruben turns to look at his dad, then back at me, anxious now, knowing they have to go. ‘We’d better go through before Mr Grumpy tells us off again,’ he says, trying to inject a little light-heartedness into the situation.

‘Yes, of course. Go!’ I wave my hands around, hoping the wafts of air will keep the tears at bay, which are still threatening to put in an unwelcome appearance. ‘Go and have fun with your dad and new baby sister,’ I say, as Ruben backs towards Lucas.

‘Wait till you see the Christmas tree in the apartment,’ Lucas adds. ‘Lizzie’s waiting for you to decorate it.’

Lucas gives me another look and a nod of reassurance. With a huge effort, I smile as Ruben stands beside Lucas, who puts an arm around his shoulders. It’s like the small spaceship has made it to its docking station. I have passed responsibility for my child to his other parent for a whole month.

‘Thank you for this, Chloë,’ Lucas says. ‘He’ll be fine. And he’ll FaceTime lots.’

Ruben is finally looking excited.

‘Thank you,’ I say, and mean it. It’s such a great opportunity for Ruben – a month in New York at Christmas with a new half-sister.

‘Go!’ I say, and they move towards security. As I wave and smile, Ruben drops his scarf. I go to run forward but Lucas stops to pick it up and wrap it around his son’s neck again. He gives me a thumbs-up and a familiar smile. He might have filled out, got a few lines round his eyes, lost a bit of hair, but the smile is still the same. He’s got this, I tell myself. They’ll be fine. It might have been a couple of years, what with Covid, since they’ve spent time together in person, but they’ve FaceTimed every Saturday.

I just wish this wasn’t so hard, as if I’m letting my child go off with a stranger. Lucas and I were together for a bit. We tried to make it work. You might have called us friends with benefits, until we were caught out. We tried to make a go of it as a couple, but we weren’t in love, and didn’t make each other happy. Not as a couple. We made the decision before Ruben was born: we’d be there for him but we couldn’t be together.

He takes Ruben’s small rucksack, which is sliding down his shoulders, and puts it over his own as they hurry towards security, laughing. They’re making the most of their time together already. I’m lucky he has a dad who loves his son as much as I do.

Around me, the airport is full of sparkling Christmas trees, baubles hanging from the ceiling, tinsel garlands. Families and others are heading away for the Christmas holidays, even though it’s only 1 December.

There is even a choir singing, wearing Christmas hats and light-up jumpers, shaking charity collection boxes.

The air is full of love. I feel like I’m watching a happy Christmas film, from inside a snow globe, unable to be part of it.

Ruben stops and turns, and I can barely hold back the tears now. Don’t embarrass him, I repeat to myself, with a huge ball in my throat. He raises his hand and waves. I raise a hand too – and realize I’m clutching Joe the bear by the neck.

‘Ruben! You forgot him!’ I brandish him in the air.

But he’s turned away and Lucas is saying something, making him laugh and then they’re gone.

Despite the blur of tears filling my eyes, I stumble out of the airport to the car park, where I fiddle with the keys to unlock the car, get in, slam the door and collapse over the steering wheel holding Joe to my eyes. I sob my heart out, regardless of the huge fee I’ll have to pay for outstaying my drop-off time, or the people around me staring as they get out of their cars with big cases. It’s just me, for a whole month, on my own at Christmas. I have no idea how I’ll get through it with nothing but Netflix and a tub of Celebrations for company. And Joe the bear.

I catch a glimpse of myself in my rear-view mirror, slide off my bobble hat and put it on the seat next to me. I rub my hand over my shoulder-length dark hair and wonder where the years have gone. It seems only yesterday that I was a twenty-six-year-old with a newborn baby, terrified that I wasn’t going to be a good enough mum, and now I’m putting my twelve-year-old son on a plane with his dad, wondering what I’m going to do without him. I rub my red nose with the back of my glove, and hear a ping from my phone.

Through security! Ruben sends me a picture from a café, with a milkshake and a giant Toblerone from Duty Free.

You forgot Joe the Bear! And the Marmite!

You look after him for me. And they wouldn’t have let me take the Marmite through security! Save it for when I’m back. I’m planning to try out some new breakfasts in New York. Dad says they have everything there!

I nod and send him a kiss. I should have put the Marmite in his case, I think crossly to myself.

Don’t forget your present! he texts. I made it for you. It’s under the cheese plant in the lounge. Open it when you get home.

Thank you, Ruben, my lovely son, making me forget I was cross and making me smile. I hold the phone to my lips for a second or two. I need to take this one day at a time, I tell myself, and turn on the ignition. I just have to count down the days until Christmas is over and Ruben is home.

Read on in Countdown to Christmas!