Page 68 of Always, in December

‘I used to help decorate this tree,’ Josie said, gesturing. ‘Well, not this tree per se, but the tree they put up every year here.’ Max looked down at her, his shoulders hunched, his skin pale, like it was absorbing the chill around them. ‘Everyone used to get involved,’ she continued. ‘And my grandparents were big on tradition. As were my parents,’ she said with a little sad smile. She had a fleeting memory of her dad on a ladder, being one of the few to brave decorating the top of the tree while the rest of them looked up, the children playing with sparklers, the adults drinking mulled wine.

‘How about you?’ she asked as they walked towards the tree to stare at it.

‘Me?’

‘What were your Christmases like, growing up?’

‘Well, my mum, being American, is very into Christmas.’ His lips twitched as they started walking again, a few more people coming out now as the handful of shops started to open, supporting local businesses by doing what shopping they could here. ‘She went big on the decorations – inside and out – on the house where we grew up in Bristol, though nothing could happen until the first of December. And we did everything – eggnog, Christmas cookies for neighbours, the lot.’

Josie smiled. ‘Sounds nice.’

‘It was. I think Mum tried to enforce Thanksgiving on us too, before I can remember it really – Dad said she gave up in the face of our Englishness, so she had to focus all her efforts on Christmas instead.’

Josie surprised herself by letting out a small laugh. ‘And now? You still all spend it together?’ She remembered last year, how he’d been on his way to see them all.

‘I think that was my mum’s plan, but they’ve only been living in America for a few years, so we’ll see if it holds. When my parents sold the house I grew up in,’ he added, ‘me and my sister, being the adults we are, threw quite a strop – no more Christmases there.’

Josie chuckled, the action, tired as it was, warming her a little. ‘Sounds like a reasonable—’

‘Josie? That can’t be you?’ Josie frowned and looked towards the sound of the voice. A dark-haired woman wearing a red coat, heavily pregnant from the looks of things, was beaming at Josie as she stepped towards her from the local shop.

It took Josie a moment. The woman had shorter hair than she remembered and her face was rounder, smiling rather than scowling, and without the thick layer of makeup she’d worn without fail during their secondary school years. ‘Beth?’ asked Josie.

‘Oh it is you,’ Beth said, resting her gloved hands on the bump underneath the coat. ‘I haven’t seen you in so long! I see most of the others every year at least, but you don’t usually come back for Christmas, do you?’ She’d almost forgotten this, Josie thought, the fact that you couldn’t go anywhere here without bumping into someone you knew.

‘Not usually,’ Josie admitted, trying hard to keep her smile in place. The thing was, even at school she and Beth hadn’t been the best of friends, more like friends by association – they’d hung out in the same group and were from the same village, but really, they’d never done anything one-on-one unless by accident. Still, a wave of nostalgia hit Josie – she hardly ever saw anyone from school these days, the last few years proving more and more difficult to arrange regular meet-ups, what with them all dotted around and busy with their own lives, jobs, partners.

‘You’re back for Christmas then?’ Josie asked, knowing the small talk was mandatory when you bumped into someone like this.

‘Oh, my husband and I actually moved here about a year ago,’ she said, her eyes twinkling a little as she said ‘husband’. ‘He’s set up his own construction company, you know.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Josie automatically, although having no clue who her husband was made the information fall a little flat.

‘And we’re expecting our second child,’ said Beth, running her hands protectively over her stomach.

‘Second,’ repeated Josie, a little dumbfounded. ‘Wow.’ Memo had told her Beth was pregnant, Josie remembered vaguely, but hearing about it and seeing it were two different things.

‘I know.’ Beth beamed again, looking much happier than Josie had ever thought she could. ‘Neil’s at home with Lucy at the moment, I just popped out to the shops for my mum.’ She raised a shopping bag to emphasise the point. ‘Anyway, it’s so good to see you,’ Beth continued, when Josie didn’t immediately think of something to say. ‘And we were all so sorry to hear about your grandmother – I really hope she’ll be ok.’

Of course everyone would know, Josie thought. Though it didn’t make her feel annoyed – in lots of ways it was nice that people knew, and cared. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Me too.’

Beth nodded sympathetically and Josie marvelled at how different she’d turned out to be. She didn’t feel any different herself from the slightly shy, rule-following teenager she’d been – but maybe it was hard to tell, with yourself. ‘And is this your husband?’ Beth asked politely, indicating Max, who Josie realised she’d left standing there, watching the conversation in a slightly bemused manner.

The question reminded Josie so much of Beth at school – her direct way of speaking, which had so often got her into some kind of trouble – that she laughed a little. It was nice to know that some things, at least, did not change. ‘This is Max,’ she said. ‘A friend.’ For want of a better – or more complicated – word, anyway.

Beth glanced down at Josie’s left hand, almost like a reflex, and seemed a little disappointed. ‘Well, that’s ok,’ she said reassuringly, ‘there’s still time to meet someone.’

‘Actually,’ said Max, speaking for the first time, ‘they’re trying to stop you doing that now – they don’t want you to meet anyone new after you turn thirty.’

Josie and Beth both frowned at him. ‘They?’ Beth asked.

‘The government,’ Max said promptly. ‘They did some research on it – turns out it’s bad for our mental health, meeting someone so late in life, so they’re introducing all these measures to encourage everyone to settle down in their twenties.’ His face was deadly serious, even as Josie stared at him incredulously. ‘It’s supposed to increase social cohesion and lead to fewer mental health problems, especially depression, meaning we can divert funding elsewhere. It’s all going back to Durkheim’s original research on suicide, you know.’

Beth’s frown only deepened, while Josie shook her head at him, amazed that he could say it all so convincingly. ‘I didn’t see that anywhere,’ Beth said. ‘Was it on the news?’

Josie elbowed Max hard enough in the ribs to make him wince. ‘He’s being an idiot, Beth, ignore him – it’s his idea of a joke.’

Beth had a half smile on her face as her eyes flicked between Josie and Max, like she was trying to figure out the punchline. ‘Anyway, we’re doing gingerbread-making now at my mum’s house – you should come! Unless you have plans right now?’