She had to keep busy. Yes, that was the answer.
She switched on the oven to reheat the casserole she’d made earlier. Then she finished stacking the dishwasher. Her hands were shaking so badly one of the plates slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor, scattering shards of china across the tiles.
Holly screamed and jumped on a chair.
Christy found herself thinking that at least it would give her something to clear up. Another job to fill those yawning gaps where stress and anxiety tried to take hold.
“It’s okay. Stay calm. Don’t move. I’ll clear it up.”
She was talking to herself as much as her daughter.
She took a breath and tipped the broken pieces of china into the bin.
“Mummy? Why are you crying?”
Was she crying? She pressed her palm to her cheek and felt dampness. “I’m not crying...” she blew her nose. “Mummy’s a little sniffy, that’s all. Maybe I’m getting a cold.”
Holly scrambled from the chair and wrapped her arms around Christy’s legs. “Kisses mend everything.”
“That’s right.”
If only that was all it took. She scooped up her daughter and hugged her tightly.
“It will soon be Christmas.”
Christmas. Family time.
Emotion clogged her throat and swelled in her chest. She couldn’t confront Seb before Christmas. No way. It would be better just to pretend everything was normal. She could do that. She was used to doing that.
“Time for bed.” She scooped Holly into her arms. “You’re getting too big to carry.”
“I want to wait for Daddy. I want Daddy to kiss me goodnight.”
“Daddy is going to be late tonight.” She carried Holly upstairs, operating on automatic.
“Will we see a reindeer in Lapland?”
“I’m sure we’ll see a reindeer.”
She refused to allow her emotion to intrude on this time with her child, but the effort required was so great that by the time she’d finished bathtime and read two stories, she was almost ready for bed herself.
She switched on the nightlight that sent a blue and green glow swirling across the ceiling.
When they’d first moved in Christy had suggested a princess bedroom, like the one she’d had as a child, but Holly was fascinated by snow and ice and wanted her bedroom to look like a polar research station. “When I grow up I’m going to be a scientist like Uncle Zac.”
Christy had tried not to be disappointed as her dream of floaty canopies, fairy lights and plenty of soft pink had been supplanted by steel-gray for the “laboratory” area, and a sleeping “shelf”.
Seb and Zac had transformed the room over a weekend and Christy had painted snowfields and mountains on the wall opposite the bed. It wasn’t what she would have chosen herself, but even she had to admit it was cozy.
She kissed her daughter, left the bedroom door ajar and headed downstairs.
The sick feeling had become a knot of tension.
She laid the table for dinner. Lit candles. Then blew them out when there was still no sign of Seb an hour later.
She turned off the oven.
She’d made the casserole while Holly had been watching half an hour of TV. Her own mother had refused to have a television in the house. Christy’s childhood had been a roundabout of carefully curated learning: violin lessons, piano lessons, ballet classes, riding lessons, art appreciation and Mandarin lessons. Her mother had insisted that every moment of her time should be spent productively. Flopping on the sofa had been frowned upon, unless it was done with a book in hand.