Driving Home for Christmas (20 page)

Lucas huffed. ‘Wow, you really thought of everything.’

Megan nodded.

‘You could have put some of that in the note so that I didn’t have to spend the last ten years thinking you left me behind because I was a failure.’

‘Why on earth would you think you were a failure?’

‘Because you couldn’t trust me to take care of you.’

Megan sighed. ‘You took care of me for most of our lives. I knew you could take care of me, take care of
us.
But I didn’t know whether I could do it, and I needed to know. I could speak advanced French, and paint beautifully and write sonnets, but I didn’t know how to use a washing machine. I needed to know I could do something for myself, that I could be a mum and be decent and good. Not an angel, or a fallen angel, just a person.’

‘You’d have let me come with you if I was the father though, wouldn’t you?’ Lucas said sharply.

‘Probably. But only because it would have been your right,’ Megan sighed.

Lucas squeezed her. ‘You’re a bloody complicated woman, you know that?’

‘I was a complicated teenager. I’m pretty simple now.’

He tangled his fingers into her hair, his thumb stroking her neck. ‘Nope, always complicated, Megan McAllister. You’ll always make things more difficult than they need to be.’

‘And what does that mean, exactly?’ She pulled back to look at him.

‘It
means
that we both know this isn’t casual, we both
know
that we have something here that can last beyond Christmas and this village. And you’re going to pretend as long as you can that it doesn’t exist.’ Lucas leant in and kissed her gently, pulling back briefly to lock eyes with her. ‘I’ll let it go for now, but at some point you’re going to see what we are, Meg, and you’re going to have to make that decision.’

‘Nothing comes before my daughter, Luke, nothing.’

Lucas looked briefly amused. ‘No, but she’s a terribly good shield isn’t she? Skye and I get on, I love her to bits. I was willing to raise her before she even existed, that hasn’t changed. The decision is nothing to do with her, or me, or your parents, or this place. The decision is about whether to let me in. I can’t keep knocking at your door, Meg, not if I think you’re never gonna answer.’

Megan looked at him, his eyes so bright and sincere, that soft grin playing about his mouth because he knew he was right and was trying to be gentle.

‘I hate metaphors,’ she said softly.

‘I know.’

‘I hate how you make me make these big life-changing decisions.’

‘I hate how you run instead of making them.’

She wriggled in his arms, warm, and soft, and safe. The way it always had been.

‘Keep knocking just a little while longer, okay?’

‘Okay,’ he breathed.

***

February 2003

‘It’s that boy! I always told you he’d drag you down!’ Heather screeched at her, following her around with a piece of paper the school had sent home.

‘He’s not dragging me anywhere! We make music together!’ Megan yelled back, feeling shaken by the frequency of these arguments. It had taken years for her to find a voice, and now it felt like she couldn’t stop. First the hair dye, then the piercings, then the band. The day her cherry red Fender Strat arrived, delivered to the front door, her mother started such a screaming fit that Megan had to lock herself in her room to get away from it. And here they were again, round one thousand.

‘Oh that’s what they call it these days, is it?’ Heather smirked. ‘Music? It’s a wonder you haven’t got yourself knocked up.’

‘We’re in a band, Mum, I don’t see what’s so strange about that.’

‘This letter says you’ve been excused from your extra gymnastics and when I called the French tutor the other day, she said you’d already cancelled! Are you trying to throw your future away?’

‘I am trying to have some say in the life I build for myself! I want to pick my future, not the one you’ve picked for me!’

Heather’s face grew cold. ‘You selfish little bitch!’

A soft cough came from the background, where Jonathan stood watching the whole scene. His face was blank, and Megan couldn’t tell if he was going to say anything or simply let it carry on.

‘Jonathan?’ Heather said, smug smile on her face. ‘Do you have anything to add?’

Jonathan said nothing, standing in the corner, still as a statue. After what seemed like an age of looking to her father for some kind word, some staying hand, he simply avoided her eye contact and said, ‘Go up to your room Megan, please.’

She did so quietly, her mother’s words on repeat…selfish little bitch selfish little bitch…

An hour later her father came upstairs with a mug of tea and a bowl of soup, but said nothing. She wasn’t even surprised.

***

Jonathan was pottering around in the den, cleaning his vinyls and humming along to James Taylor. Megan was still trying to get used to how her parents looked different, more calm, more…provincial, somehow. Looking at them now, she got the strange feeling that they were never that scary, were never really able to exert any control over her. Like they’d known that all along, and that’s why they’d held the reigns so tightly. Not that she’d ever get over that look of disgust on her mother’s face, but the words were starting to fade a little. One thing was still bugging her, though, and it was more the things that had never been said. She’d been honest with everyone else; it was Jonathan’s turn.

She coughed, and knocked on the door to the den. His eyes lit up, ‘Come in, come in!’ and he pushed a few papers over so she could sit down on the sofa. ‘Is Skye with you?’

‘She’s reading upstairs,’ Megan started. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you…’

Jonathan nodded seriously, dragging over a swivel chair from the desk and perching on it.

‘Do you need money?’ he asked, ‘because I’m more than happy –’

‘No, Dad.’ Megan held up her hand. ‘Thank you, but we’re very much okay. I just wanted to talk to you about everything that happened, about…well, about everything.’

Jonathan looked down at the floor, a slight colour appearing in his cheeks. ‘Okay, what would you like to say to me?’

He looked like he was building a mental dam, preparing for the great waves to come crashing down. Megan didn’t let it stop her.

‘Why did you never defend me when Mum got on one of her over-achiever moments?’ she started gently. ‘You knew I didn’t want that life, you knew I was trying so hard, that I was working myself until I passed out. You knew I was exhausted and miserable and was only doing it to please her. Why didn’t you help me?’

‘Darling,’ he exhaled roughly, his eyes a little wet, ‘what do you think I’d been doing for the last twenty years of my life? Working until I was exhausted and miserable, just to please her.’ He shrugged. ‘Making her happy was the only thing I knew how to do. I never knew how to say no, and I just trusted she knew what was best.’

Megan knew the disappointment showed on her face.

‘I know I’m a coward,’ Jonathan said suddenly, ‘I know I should have stood up for you. All those times you were tired and ill, and I knew you were trying so hard, and I was just… Your mother was different then. I was different then.’

‘What changed?’

‘Well, you leaving, for a start. The realisation that you’ve failed your child, that you couldn’t be there for them when they needed you – it puts things in perspective. And without you to be her project, your mother actually went out and got hobbies, interests of her own.’

Megan nodded, noting that everything in the house seemed to have slowed, become gentler somehow. She thought perhaps it was that Jasper existed, and that her dad had taken retirement. But he was right, Heather was different.

‘It came from a place of love, Megan,’ he sighed, ‘a place of awe, even. Your mother thought you were so wonderful that you were capable of anything.’

‘Of anything but living a life that was mine,’ she replied dryly.

‘Well, you’ve proven her wrong, haven’t you?’ Jonathan smiled, and reached over to squeeze her hand. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea?’

Megan smiled back and nodded, getting up.

‘Did you get what you wanted from me?’ Jonathan asked her, pausing before they entered the kitchen.

‘I think so,’ she shrugged, knowing that it was more about her saying it than about him saying anything in return. They had only just set foot in the kitchen and greeted her mother when Skye burst in.

‘Trouble says he’s going to take me to see the reindeer in the park, can I go?’

‘Just you?’ Megan said, trying not to feel left out. Her mother laughed at her, standing doing the washing up.

‘I asked if we could spend some time together and he said yes,’ Skye shrugged. ‘Well, no, actually he said to ask you, and if you said yes, it was okay. So is it okay?’

Skye was rarely so excitable, yet there was a niggling feeling in her stomach. Sure, it was great that she and Lucas were on good terms again, it was great that Skye liked him. But it was impermanent. She had escaped this village once, and she wasn’t staying any longer than necessary.

‘Baby, did you already see the reindeer the other day? I thought you said they were boring?’ she asked.

Skye nodded. ‘But Lucas said he’s going to take his guitar and we’d sing them Christmas carols and…we wanted to practise a song for you. As a Christmas present…’

‘Is that the truth or are you just wheedling?’ Megan asked, head tilted, hands on hips. Jeremy called it Mum Mode.

Skye rolled her head. ‘It’s true, but he told me not to tell you, so it could be a surprise. But I said you don’t do surprises and I’d have to tell you, and now I have.’

Megan blinked. ‘When did all this happen?’

‘He gave my his phone number and said I could call whenever I wanted. Please, Mum? I want to be really good at playing!’

Megan looked to her mother, who shrugged, clearly amused as she continued with the washing up.

‘A couple of hours. Christmas Eve is a time for family,’ Megan said, wondering whose words she was stealing. ‘We’re going to call Anna this evening too.’

Skye’s face lit up, and she launched herself at her mother. ‘Thanks! You’re going to love it! It’ll be the best Christmas present you’ll ever get! Trouble promised!’

Megan relented, arms still around her daughter,. ‘You still want to be a detective though, right? No dreams of being a rock star? Because it gets you into trouble, believe me.’

Skye grinned. ‘And being an
inspector
doesn’t?’

‘Better amps and bass, than dead bodies and hitting Colonel Mustard in the library with a vase,’ Heather nodded.

Megan looked at her mother incredulously. ‘Thanks, Mum! Big help!’

‘So Trouble can come get me? I’ll go call him!’ Skye rushed from the room.

‘Tell him to bring his new car, I don’t want him taking you out in that death trap!’ Megan called after her, turning back to find her mother laughing and shaking her head.

‘Welcome to motherhood,’ she said.

Chapter Ten

July 2003

‘You do realise this is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas?’ Lucas fiddled with his shirt collar in the rear view mirror. Megan had come out to sit in the car with him, seeing as he’d been parked outside her house for the last twenty minutes.

‘It’s not that bad. They like you.’

‘I am the very symbol of your rebellion. They hate me,’ Lucas shrugged, ‘look, I’m doing this because you’ve asked me to, but I expect rewards for this. And brownie points. And if someone punches me you have to sit there with frozen peas and make sympathetic girlfriend faces.’

Megan grinned, ‘have I actually found something the one and only Lucas Bright, rock legend, is scared of?’

‘Have you met your mother?’ Lucas rolled his eyes, and opened the car door. ‘Come on then, let’s get the party started. I brought my own pitchfork incase they broke their last one.’

He walked around the car and hovered as she got out, reaching for her hand. He looked nervous, a little paler than usual, a little clammy (probably from wearing a long sleeved shirt on a warm July evening). It was somehow adorable.

‘Thank you for doing this,’ Megan linked her arm through his as they walked up to the front door.

‘She gets two pops at my Mum and unlimited comments about my career prospects and bad grades-’

‘You don’t have bad grades.’

‘But I’m not going to Cambridge,’ he raised an eyebrow, before continuing, ‘and if she starts on Clare or you, I’m out.’

‘She wants you here to get to know you,’ Megan said sensibly, and managed to look serious for about a minute, before laughing.

‘Megan McAllister, the sort of girl who’ll bring a lamb to slaughter,’ Lucas sighed and kissed her cheek as they reached the front door.

‘Lucas Bright, the sort of guy who’ll meet families just to keep a girl happy. Who knew?’

‘You know, and that’s what matters.’

In the end, Heather hadn’t hated him. She’d wanted to, but the charm offensive was far too strong, and by the end of the night, despite his low status and the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere fast, she was convinced Lucas might even be good for Megan. A motivator. He wanted great things for her. Jonathan chatted to him about music, and for the first time in a long time, the McAllister household was calm.

***

Skye returned at six pm with a smug look on her face. Megan opened the door, saw Skye jump up and give him a hug, declaring ‘Bye, Trouble!’ before she ran into the house.

‘Hey you,’ he grinned, leaning on the door frame, ‘missed me?’

‘Not as much as my daughter, apparently.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Care to explain?’

‘We’ve bonded,’ he shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair, ‘and I wanted some advice on your Christmas present.’

‘Luke, I haven’t got you anything –’ she said quickly, and he leaned in, dropping a kiss onto her lips.

‘Yes you have.’ He smiled against her, hands on her waist. ‘You’ve given me a second chance.’