Christmas at the Edge of the World

“Hey.” Abby smiled stiffly; she was practically vibrating with tension. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes…”

“I want to talk to you, Dad.” Abby’s voice wobbled. “About… about when Mum died. And after.”

“What…” Her father looked flummoxed. “After all this time?”

“Yes,” Abby said firmly. “After all this time.”

Laurel and Zac went for a stroll around the block while Abby talked to their father. Laurel knew she needed privacy, and she was grateful to escape the tension.

As they walked along the wintry streets, she bored Zac with a few anecdotes from her childhood before she turned to him seriously.

“This is all going to get better, you know, right?”

He hunched his shoulders. “Is it?”

“You and your mum have been through some tough times, I know. But I really think things are changing—in her, and maybe in you, too.” Laurel held up a hand to stop the disdainful snort she knew was coming. “I know that all sounds mega sappy, but it’s true, Zac. Your mum loves you. I love you.” She paused, surprised by that admission. “I didn’t expect to, you know. You were a real pain in the backside to start with.”

Zac cracked a tiny smile. “You were annoying.”

“I was not!”

“Fluttering all around, trying to impress me, treating me like I was six. I mean, Ludo.”

Laurel smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “All right, fine, I was annoying. But things are going to be better now. They might be hard for a while, but they’ll be better. I really do believe that.”

Zac shrugged and kept walking, but Laurel saw what she thought might be a smile quirk the barest corner of his mouth. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. “Maybe.”

When they finally braved coming back to the house, Abby was in the kitchen, wiping her eyes. Laurel’s heart lurched, and then she saw her father was in the living room, doing the same thing.

“What…” she began, unsure what question to ask.

“It’s okay,” Abby said, still wiping. “We’ve talked. Dad’s said some things… I’ve said some things. But I think it’s going to be all right.”

“Oh, Abby…”

“Laurel.”

She whirled around to see her father shuffling into the doorway, looking like an old man in a way he never had before. “Laurel, I should say this to you, too. A long time ago.” He gave her a trembling smile, so different from his usual stoical expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Dad…”

And then they were all hugging, all four of them, and it was ridiculous and wonderful and definitely awkward, and they all looked a bit self-conscious as they stepped back, because they’d never been a hugging kind of family, except perhaps they’d become one now, with a little practise and effort.

“Will you stay the night?” their dad asked, and Laurel and Abby exchanged looks. Laurel shrugged; it was Abby’s call.

“Yes,” Abby said, “For the night. But then we have somewhere to be.”

Laurel didn’t realise what she meant until they were getting ready to leave the next morning, after a full English fry up with her dad making the eggs, and all of them learning how to love one another again, with stumbling steps and stammered sentences, trying to do it properly this time. Abby had been rather quiet all morning, although not in a bad way, but now, as she slid into the driver’s seat she gave Laurel a sudden, serious look.

Laurel’s heart lurched even though she had no idea what her sister was going to say. “What is it?”

“It’s two hundred and thirty-nine miles back to London,” she said, and Laurel looked at her in confusion.

“Okay…”

“And five hundred and twenty-three miles to Orkney.” Laurel’s mouth opened but no words came out. Abby gave her a lopsided smile, her eyes sparkling. “What if we just kept driving?”