‘So, all in all, good then?’ replies James, quickly rearranging his face when he realises his humour hasn’t been well received. ‘Did Annette ever message you back by the way? I can’t believe she just left you.’
I shake my head, the memory of being abandoned in Mama’s two days ago still fresh in my mind. ‘I mean, how rude can you get? Honestly, I’ve got a good mind to message her and tell her not to bother coming.’
‘But you won’t.’
‘No, I won’t,’ I say through a sigh. ‘Because I’m too nice and I’m starting to think that’s my downfall.’
‘Louisa… I love you just the way you are.’ James reaches over and squeezes my thigh.
‘Yeah, now I’m doped up to the eyeballs.’ I intend it as a joke but all it achieves is an awkward silence which seems to drag on for an eternity. I know James feels guilty for insisting I take the antidepressants, and so he bloody well should do. But with no other cards materialising in the last week, I’m stuck in limbo, having no way to prove my sanity. I suppose, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not even sure whether or not I did hallucinate the message inside the card last week. Given my history, it’s certainly not beyond the realms of possibility. Now, after having a chance to calm down, it does seem somewhat ridiculous that an anonymous sperm donor would stalk me in order to steal back the seed of his loins. And it’s even more ridiculous to consider that somebody else might have been behind it. I mean, for what possible reason? And yet, while all of this remains absurd, there’s still the very real fact that a man did approach me in the market last week. He quite clearly said my name. Or did he? Again, it’s difficult to be sure, especially as I wasn’t in a rational state of mind, having just scarpered from the coffee shop after hearing Magda’s psychic spirit guide’s warning!
Either way, I have no choice but to hold things together now, for Cory more than anybody else. When the mental health team show up in the New Year I have to convince them I’m sane. The alternative doesn’t even bear thinking about. No, the cards have stopped, which is ultimately a good thing. It’s Christmas Day, my thirtieth birthday, and I’m determined to see it through with a smile. ‘So, come on then, Saint Nic,’ I say at last, forcing the niggling doubts to the back of my mind. ‘Let me have that present.’
‘Saint Nic hasn’t mastered his fine motor skills yet so his trusty elf will deliver the gift on his behalf.’ James passes me the present, his hand shaking ever so slightly.
‘Aww, are you nervous? That’s sweet.’ I hold the cubed present to my ear and give it a shake. ‘I wonder what it could be?’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ says James, smiling down at Cory. ‘It isn’t off me. It’s off this little guy.’
I savour the moment, knowing that the present is another first, one I’ll cherish for years to come. Placing it on my knee, I look out of the lounge window and drink in the world, which for once I feel very much a part of. At 8 a.m. the sky is blotted an inky blue, the heavy snowfall turning to grey mucky slush as fat droplets of rain drum a frantic beat off the glass. I guess I was crazy to believe the north of England would deliver a white Christmas: It’s always pissing raining on Christmas Day, I distinctly remember my mother saying one year. Perhaps that’s why she chose Christmas Day to kill herself; most probably not but you never know. The weather doesn’t matter though. My dreams of Christmas never did include snow; just a forever family, containing the very people who are now beside me.
‘Go on then,’ says James, shuffling around on his bottom, the anticipation clearly getting the better of him. ‘Don’t leave us hanging.’
I pick up the gift and loosen the red ribbon, the feel of it silky and soft between my fingers. ‘It’s wrapped beautifully. When did you learn to wrap like this?’
‘Bloody hell, Lou, enough with the questions. The wait is killing me.’
I glance over at him and smile, his excitement infectious. He’s still dressed in his pyjama bottoms, his chest covered in dark hair, his shoulder muscles well defined. He’s gorgeous, my very own Prince Charming.
‘Lou, the present, please.’
I roll my eyes in mock irritation. ‘Okay, I’m opening it. It best be good after all this build-up.’ I push my fingernails down into the loose paper fold and begin to carefully pull it open. A velvet, dark-blue box slowly starts to reveal itself. Unable to contain my excitement for a moment longer, I rip off the rest of the wrapping paper and ping open the lid. ‘Oh my God, it’s beautiful!’ Tears rush into my eyes as I gaze down at the white-gold love heart locket which dangles down inside. The front is engraved with Cory’s date of birth: 05.12.2014. ‘This is amazing. Thank you so much!’ I pull my eyes away from the necklace in order to look at James, his face breaking out into a grin.
‘You really like it, Lou?’
‘Of course. It’s perfect.’ I open up the locket, my fingers fiddly. Inside, the heart is split into two segments. On the left, a photograph of Cory, the first photo ever taken of him. He is squinting up at the camera, his lips pursed, his expression quizzical, like he can’t quite understand where he is. On the right, a photograph of James and me on our wedding day. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ I realise I’m shaking. ‘I’ll cherish it for ever.’
James kisses me on the mouth, his lips the flavour of hot coffee. ‘Now, wherever you go… you’ll carry us both close to your heart.’
Taking the necklace out of the box, I clutch it tightly in my fist, now more certain than ever that the bad times are behind us. ‘I’m going nowhere,’ I say, so happy I could burst. ‘I’m staying right here, with you and Cory.’ I undo the clasp and place it around my neck, fiddling around as I try my best to fasten it. It’s heavier than I expected, and shines and shimmers against the twinkly lights which frame the bay window. ‘It’s perfect,’ I say again. ‘I can see this being the best Christmas ever.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Louisa
Then
It’s Christmas Day and for once it isn’t shit!
It’s now six weeks since Billy shoved his fork into Carl’s eye. Sandy pissed off on maternity leave two weeks ago, leaving us with smelly Susan, who I’m pretty sure enjoys seeing how long she can go without a shower. The new guy, Aiden, has been here for about a month and I have to admit he’s pretty mint for a care worker. If it wasn’t for him, this Christmas would be just as awful as all the rest, but with Aiden it isn’t. He’s made Christmas so special, bringing board games in like Twister and Scene It, which we all managed to play without too many arguments. He’s twenty-three and listens to cool music like Nirvana and Eminem. He caught me and Stacey having a cig in my room last night but said he’d let us off because it was Christmas. Billy, for obvious reasons, wasn’t allowed to stay here and has been shipped off to some naughty kids’ facility. I really miss Billy and hope one day I’ll see him again. Carl has been left blind in his right eye and has to wear a patch. He now looks like a scally version of One-Eyed Willie.
‘Louisa, it’s your turn.’ Aiden gestures for me to take the floor. We’ve been playing charades for the best part of an hour and have just witnessed the new boy, Darren, stick three fingers up before dropping his trousers and grabbing his testicles.
‘No thank you, it’s childish.’ I slide my hand through my hair before leaning back against the sofa cushions and taking a sip of my ‘Christmas punch’, which is really just orange and cranberry juice mixed together. The Christmas dinner was pretty nice this year, despite smelly Susan coughing all over the turkey. But I helped Aiden with the trifle and he said I was a natural.