Christy thought about the leak in the bathroom. “Tell me about it.”
“Is this a good time to talk? Am I disturbing you?”
“No, it’s great to hear your voice. You haven’t called in a while.” Should she confess that she missed the days when they’d messaged each other constantly? No, that would be unfair. Alix was busy building a career. Christy pictured her now in Manhattan, dark hair pulled back, tailored dress, heels that would make most women wince to look at them, let alone wear. “I’m sure you’ve been really busy.”
“That’s me. Busy, busy. Work is crazy.”
“I envy you your glamorous life.” Christy carried on clearing up with one hand, her phone in the other.
“Are you kidding? I envy you your idyllic country cottage.”
Idyllic? Christy shivered and snuggled deeper into her sweater.
She resisted the temptation to confess the doubts she was having. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone that, not even Alix. Not after she’d made such a fuss about living here.
“When is your event, and what are you wearing?”
“Event is tonight, and I don’t know what I’m wearing. Something black and serious. It’s work, right?” She broke off, and Christy heard the sound of car horns in the background.
“It’s an awards dinner.”
“Exactly. Work, but in posh clothing. I probably should have asked your advice. You’re the stylish one.”
Stylish? These days she chose her clothes for warmth and durability and tried not to think about all the dresses and shoes she no longer had a use for. Christy glanced down at her black yoga pants and noticed a small blob of paint. How had that happened? She was always so careful. “Don’t wear black. It’s boring, and not at all you.”
“Good point. Maybe I’ll wear fancy dress. Talking of which, we have a fabulous range right now. Does my favorite four-year-old need anything new? There’s a great unicorn costume.”
“You already sent her that.” Christy switched on the fairy lights in the kitchen. Since she’d discovered that the soft glow from the twinkly lights disguised the damp patches on the walls, she’d strung them everywhere. Holly assumed they were Christmas decorations, and Christy was fine with that, but she’d already decided they wouldn’t be coming down in January. If her future had to be filled with thick sweaters and damp socks, it was also going to be filled with fairy lights. “There aren’t enough days in the week for her to wear what you’re sending. Where are you now?”
“On my way to a meeting. Traffic on Fifth is a nightmare.”
Traffic on Fifth. People. Life. Atmosphere. “You sound like a local.”
“This is my third trip in eight weeks. I’m starting to feel that way.”
Christy cleared up paints and tipped the water away. She wasn’t envious; she really wasn’t. She enjoyed her balance of work and motherhood, even if she did sometimes feel as if she compromised on both elements. This was the life she’d chosen, although it would have been nice to have her husband home and a house that didn’t leak. “Still makes me smile, thinking of you working for a global toy company.”
“Why? Because I’m single and don’t have kids? This is a business, Christy. A cold, ruthless business. We might be selling toys, but there is nothing warm and fuzzy about this job. And I know more about toys than anyone. I know which toys are likely to make a child smile for five minutes or five days. I know which toys are likely to break before the end of the day, which toys might persuade you it’s worth studying harder for exams, and which toy is so awesome it might even make a child forget that their parents don’t want them around—” There was a moment of silence. “Did I really just say that? Don’t read too much into it. Jet lag is making me maudlin. Or maybe it’s this time of year. You know how messed up I am about Christmas.” Alix’s light tone covered layers of emotion and memories. “My point is I have plenty of personal experience of toys. Toys are currency, and no one knows their value better than I do.”
“Sometimes they’re a gesture of love.” Christy felt a surge of compassion. “Have you heard from your parents?”
“No, thank goodness. It’s not as if I’d want to spend Christmas with either of them, anyway. Can you imagine it? Kill me now.”
Christy stowed the paints and brushes in a box, grateful for the love her parents had shown her and the example they’d set. She’d modeled her own family life on theirs, carrying across the routines and traditions from her own childhood.
She thought back to the nights Alix had stayed over at her house. There had been a lot of nights and lots of childhood confessions. My parents don’t want me around. They never wanted me.
Christy pushed the art box into the cupboard. Her home might leak, but her daughter knew she was loved. “Remember all those times my mother told us off for talking until the early hours?”
“And for making hot chocolate at two in the morning.”
“And dropping biscuit crumbs in the bed.”
Christy leaned against the cupboard, her mind in the past. “We were always making plans. And look at us.”
Alix gave a quick laugh. “I wanted to climb the corporate ladder, and you wanted a husband, a child and a cottage in the country. Looks like we both got what we wanted.”
Christy stared at the rain hammering the window. “Yes.” But what if what you’d wanted didn’t turn out so great after all? What then? “Are you happy with your life?”
“Of course. What sort of a question is that?”
“You don’t ever feel lonely?”
“Are you kidding? I’m with people all day, and even when I’m not with them physically, they’re calling me.”
Christy waited for Alix to bounce the question back to her, but she didn’t.
“You don’t regret anything?”
“What would I regret? Are you asking me if I want to get married, have children and move to the country? We both know that’s not for me. I don’t want the responsibility. I mean, get it wrong and a child is messed up forever. If you need evidence for that, look at me.”
Christy felt an ache in her chest. “You’re not messed up. And you wouldn’t get it wrong.”
“Ah, but you don’t know that. Anyway, I love being in the fast lane. I love the whole crazy rush of it.” And Alix was moving so quickly everything around her was a blur, including Christy.
There were things she wanted to say, but didn’t feel able to.
Why was it suddenly so hard to share her innermost secrets with her friend?
“I keep telling you that adrenaline isn’t one of the main food groups.”
“It’s my favorite type of fuel, except possibly for chocolate. By the way, did I mention that the singing reindeer with a glow-in-the-dark nose that I sent our girl is going to be the toy for Christmas? She’ll be the most popular child in the village.”
Toys are currency.
Christy poured Holly a cup of milk. “I’ve hidden it away ready for you-know-when.”
Holly’s head whipped round. “Are you talking about Christmas?”
Alix laughed. “I heard that. She’s so smart. Just give it to her. I’ve bought her something else for the big day. It’s a junior science kit, not even launched yet. She’s going to love it. I tell you, that girl is going to save the world.”