Love At Christmas, Actually

‘He doesn’t really talk,’ Matty shrugged.

‘That’s okay.’ Skye strode forward and started signing along with her hands as she spoke. ‘We can talk in other ways.’

The child’s eyes followed her fingers, and broke out into a large smile. But still said nothing, just sat in his father’s arms, smiling at Skye.

‘I…don’t think he’s deaf, hun.’ Megan put her hands on Skye’s shoulders. ‘I think what Matty meant was that Jasper’s a little shy.’

‘Oh!’ Skye shrugged. ‘Sorry!’ She turned to him and held out a hand. ‘Do you want to come and play with me upstairs? There’s lots of really cool things in my mum’s room.’

Jasper nodded and reached out a hand for her. Matty put him on the floor and watched in awe as his son took Skye’s hand and wandered off.

‘That honestly never happens.’ Matty shook his head.

‘She speaks sign language?’ Claudia asked in interest, or as much interest as someone so passive could muster. ‘Is she deaf?’

‘No, I taught her.’

‘Why do you know sign language?’ Heather asked, bringing in a tray with a floral teapot and a plate with the missing bourbons. Megan felt a pang for Anna’s Christmas Sangria and champagne truffles.

‘Because I’m a speech and language therapist.’ Megan shook her head. ‘I work with deaf kids. Didn’t Anna tell you that?’

‘She refused to tell me anything about you,’ her mother said stiffly, ‘only about Skye. She said you were an adult and you deserved not to be spied on.’

‘Oh,’ Megan said, not really sure how that made her feel. All those years she’d thought her mother knew about her life but didn’t really care. Maybe she would have liked to know what career she’d ended up in. ‘Why didn’t you ask when I got here?’

‘I didn’t think it was my place,’ Heather said lightly. ‘Everyone help yourselves to tea, I’ll go and drag Jonathan from the den.’

She scuttled out of the room, and Megan sighed.

‘We came just at the right time then?’ Matty said, settling down on the sofa and sticking three biscuits in his mouth.

His wife watched in disdain, then turned to Megan. ‘Has it been difficult?’

‘Not so far, but God knows it will be at some point,’ she shrugged.

There was the heavy clang of the doorbell, and Megan heard the start of “Good King Wenceslas”.

‘It’s carol singers!’ she yelled to her mother.

‘There’s money on the side. It’s probably the school choir!’ Heather called back from the kitchen, and something about the exchange made Megan’s stomach flip, it was so…domestic. They could have had the same conversation ten years ago, her stomping around as a teenager, always yelling from room to room.

Matty dragged Claudia with him from the sofa, and they all went to the front door.

The choir were less angelic when you saw them, pimpled teens shivering as they sang, clutching styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, their braces flashing in the porch light every time they opened their mouths.

And standing behind them, of course, was Lucas Bright, grinning for all he was worth. Why? Why was he grinning, wearing that stupid Where’s Wally scarf and a hat that made him look like a child who wanted to be a pilot? He stared at Megan, eyes as bright as ever, and she couldn’t tell if it was the kind of smirk he’d have saved for her when she fell off the stage trying to crowd surf that time, or the kind of smirk he’d given her last night as he watched her from that same stage.

The teenagers stopped singing, and she, Matty and Claudia clapped.

‘That was wonderful,’ she told them, nodding insistently, not meeting Lucas’ eyes. She felt her brother bristle beside her, but ignored it, too busy focusing on ignoring Lucas.

‘What charity are you raising money for this year?’ Claudia asked, her head buried in her massive Prada purse, probably failing to find anything less than a twenty-pound note. That woman did not trifle with small change.

‘Garret Oaks… It’s a home for teenage mothers,’ Lucas said. There was a moment of silence.

‘Are you fucking kidding me, Bright?’ Matty roared and reached through the teenagers, who scattered, to grab Lucas and punch him square in the face. ‘You think that’s funny, you dickhead? After what you did to my sister?’

Matty was a big guy, and the force sent Lucas to the floor. He looked up at Matty from the damp cobblestones and held up his hands, ‘Okay, but…can I get the kids out of the way first?’

Matty took a deep breath and gave a short nod, his mouth a thin line.

‘Guys, carry on round to the next few houses, okay? Don’t go further than Parson Street, I’ll catch you up.’

‘You…you gonna be okay, sir?’ a small lad puffed himself up, his glasses misting from how wrapped up in scarves and woolly garments he was.

‘Yes, Andrew, thanks mate, go ahead.’ Lucas watched them leave, then stood up and tried to dust himself off. Which was impossible as the grey patchy snow left water marks. He shivered a little.

‘Matty, that really was the charity,’ he shrugged, ‘I wasn’t being funny, mate, honestly.’

‘Don’t call me your mate, after what you did.’

‘Um.’ Megan put up her hand. ‘What did he do exactly?’

They stared at her in silence, Matty’s eyes almost falling out of his head.

‘Knocked you up! Sent you away! Failed to be a father to that amazing kid you’ve got in there! Any of this ringing a bell?’ Matty huffed, hands all over the place. He looked just like their dad when faced with a crisis, all limbs and gravity, unsure of what to do.

Megan turned to Lucas, her head tilted slightly as she searched his eyes for the answer. He looked down at the cobbles, then back to her.

‘You let them think it was you?’ she asked him. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘No one really asked.’ He shrugged at the ground, and then grinned, that same old cavalier who the fuck cares look. ‘Besides, everyone knows I’m an arsehole who’d do something like that, so the story fits, right?’

No you wouldn’t, she thought. You didn’t.

‘It wasn’t Lucas?’ Matty said in disbelief.

‘No!’ Megan slapped his chest half-heartedly. ‘And you could have asked before beating the crap out of him!’

Matty’s face melted into apologies and guilt. ‘I’m so sorry, man.’ He grabbed Lucas’ hand and shook it. ‘You know I always liked you, it’s just…’ he gestured at Megan, ‘you know.’

‘Blaming me because you didn’t think to fact check?’ Megan rolled her eyes.

‘Well, it’s not the first time,’ Lucas grinned, touching his jaw,. ‘That one a couple of Christmases ago, down by the Nag’s, that one was a shiner. Thank goodness we were off school or the kids would have torn me down.’

‘He’s done this before? ’ Megan screeched.

‘Pretty much every time we’ve crossed paths,’ Matty admitted, hands in pocked, shoulders hunched.

‘I told him it was ridiculous,’ Claudia said, ‘but in his mind, his perfect little sister wouldn’t have slept around…’

Megan winced. ‘Well, as lovely as this has been–’

‘Yeah,’ Lucas added.

‘Uhuh,’ Matty complied.

A voice boomed from behind them, ‘What is he doing here?’

‘Oh crap,’ Megan sighed, ‘not you too.’

She watched as her father tried to puff himself up to his full size, which would have been intimidating if he didn’t look so uncomfortable about it all.

‘Mr McAllister…’ Lucas started, hands up.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake – HE DIDN’T KNOCK ME UP!’ Megan shouted.

Jonathan stopped, looking at his daughter. ‘He didn’t? Well who the bloody hell did?’

‘An idiot.’

‘Any more details you want to give us, Meg?’ Matty asked.

‘Yeah, I wouldn’t mind knowing either, seeing as I’ve been getting the guy’s share of beatings over the last ten years,’ Lucas added, arms crossed and thoroughly enjoying himself.

Megan felt like she was about to explode.

‘It doesn’t MATTER!’ she yelled.

‘What doesn’t matter?’ a small voice asked from behind her. Skye stood there, peering out at the scene where her grandfather had hulked out, her uncle was looking embarrassed, her aunt was bored, her mum was angry and there was some dark-haired guy looking like he was having way too good a time. Skye homed in on him.

‘Did you cause all this?’ she asked, sounding distinctly like she wanted to add a ‘young man’ to the end of that question. Way too many mini dramas for Skye, Megan thought to herself. But why not let him see what getting on the wrong side of a McAllister would do?

‘I have no idea what you mean, miss,’ he smirked, tipping his hat.

‘I’m pretty sure you do,’ Skye said sternly, ‘look at the evidence. All of these people were perfectly calm until you turned up. And now my mum’s shouting, and she never shouts.’

Lucas looked at Megan with surprise. ‘Is that true? Because when I knew her she could give as good as she got.’

‘Wasn’t that what got her into this situation in the first place?’ Claudia said, checking her nails. Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on her, and a faint blush appeared on her porcelain cheeks as she realised what she’d said out loud.

‘Well this has been delightful, but–’

‘Lucas, lad.’ Jonathan reached for his hand. ‘I’m so sorry son, we didn’t know, you should have said…’

Lucas shrugged, half-smiled at Megan. ‘I should probably catch up with the kids. They’re teenagers so they’re probably spending the charity money on booze or graffiti-ing something.’

‘Well, that’s an assumption.’ Skye returned to her power stance, hands on hips, guarding Megan. ‘And you know what they say about assumptions…’

‘Skye!’ Megan raised her eyebrows. ‘How do you know what they say about assumptions?’

‘Jeremy,’ Skye shrugged, and then returned her gaze to Lucas. ‘But the point is that it’s not nice, or fair to blame people for something before you know they’ve actually done it.’

‘That’s actually been the theme of this whole conversation.’ Lucas grinned and reached out a hand. ‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Skye. I’d always wondered what you’d be like.’ And with that he was gone, down the path, around the corner, leaving Megan free to have a nervous breakdown.

***

August 2004

They were lying in the park at the top of the hill, sunglasses on, listening to music from a tinny portable speaker.

‘All right, Angel?’ Lucas nudged her shoulder, squeezing her fingers.

‘Why do you call me that?’

‘Angel?’ Lucas grinned. ‘Because you are! You’re the good girl in the big house, and I’m the boy who sold his soul to the devil for rock and roll.’

‘If you’d sold your soul you’d play a lot better than you do,’ Megan laughed, ‘and I don’t know where you got this idea about me.’

‘It’s your halo, baby. Shining bright as always. It’s just the way it is; I break, you fix. I sin, you save.’

Megan sat up and took off her sunglasses so he could see the face she was making.

‘You have heard of the Madonna-Whore Complex?’

‘Is that her latest album?’ He laughed, still lying back against the grass.

‘Why do you think you’re the bad guy?’

‘Because the truth is that you’re going to go off and have this big exciting life. And as much as I want to make music, I’m gonna end up here. I’m going to look after my mum every time another fella leaves, and I’m gonna get a job in the mechanic’s or driving a tractor or something, and that’s it for me.’ He stretched briefly, catlike, before resting his hands behind his head again. His face didn’t change.

‘That doesn’t make you a bad guy,’ Megan said, stroking his cheek.

‘No, it doesn’t. But when the time comes for you to leave, I’m not going to be selfless. I’m not going to want to let you go. Even when it’s best for you. And that makes me a bad guy.’

Megan shook her head, but didn’t really know what to say, so she just lay down next to him and said nothing.

‘Don’t let me stop you, okay Angel? You’ve got big, important things to do. Don’t make me that person that stops you,’ Lucas said softly, kissing her cheek and turning the music up.

***

That night Megan escaped the family games night, and said she had some errands to run. She paused in the hallway, watching her daughter laughing at Matty, helping Jasper move the little pieces around the board on the coffee table. It was a picture-perfect tableau and she was glad to witness it. She was also glad not to be part of it. Somehow every time she was happy, it felt fake. And now there was one question gnawing at her that had to be answered. She was going to start putting stuff right, and it was going to start with Lucas.

After getting the address from Estelle, she jumped in the 2CV and trundled down the hill, out past the farms and the new-build flats, and then up higher and higher until she reached his house. The Foxhole, she noted the hand-carved sign. Cute. She turned off the engine and got out of the car, wavering about whether to knock.

It was a sweet bungalow, old fashioned, with a double barn door at the side, where she could see light escaping around the edges. Suddenly the top part of the door swung open, and there was Lucas, lighting up a cigarette and leaning on the door.

His eyes met hers in the darkness and he jumped.

‘Holy shit, woman! Did you come here to kill me?’ He clutched his chest, throwing the barely-lit cigarette out into a little tin bucket on the floor.

‘It’s not my fault you have no lights out here!’ she argued, moving forward.

‘Don’t have many visitors,’ he breathed, still sounding irritated. ‘I’m the town hermit.’

‘Know many hermits who play on stage and ferry around the choir from door to door?’ Megan rolled her eyes.

‘Saintly ones. I’m atoning for my sins in this village,’ Lucas said lightly, starting to roll another cigarette. His hands appeared to be shaking a little, and he rubbed them together. ‘Damn it’s cold out.’

‘What sins?’ Megan already knew.

‘Well…it’s hard to live here when you’ve done wrong by the great Megan McAllister.’

She could believe that, all too easily.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said helplessly, ‘but why didn’t you tell the truth?’

‘I didn’t know the truth.’ Lucas stared into the darkness, eyes briefly illuminated by the flame of the lighter.

‘You knew she wasn’t yours.’

Lucas took a deep breath and looked at her, that same silly smile. He looked good. He’d always been gorgeous, first in that poseur rock way, then simply because when he smiled he made her stomach flip. Now he looked like a man. Someone real, and warm and strong. And still just a little bit broken.

‘I wanted to protect you, Angel. I still do.’

Megan sighed, stamped her foot a little. ‘Haven’t got a spare cigarette, have you?’

‘You can share mine. I don’t really smoke any more anyway. It’s just…that kind of night. And here you are on my doorstep, wanting to drag it all out.’

‘I don’t want to drag it out, I want to apologise.’ She toked on the cigarette he offered her, trying not to cough as she breathed out. ‘I want to explain.’

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, stretching. ‘Meg, you think we could just ignore all that stuff tonight? Why don’t you just come in, have a cuppa, and tell me about your life?’

His house wasn’t what she’d expected. It was an adult abode. Sure there were music posters, but they were in posh frames, and everything had a very fitted look about it. He had sofa cushions, for Christ’s sake. She had to wonder if Estelle had it wrong, if there was a woman in his life to make this all look so…complete. Not that she cared, of course. It had been a long time. She’d expected him to move on, she wanted it. She just didn’t want to see it.

Megan picked at her nail varnish, hovering in the living room as he disappeared into the corner of the open-plan kitchen to put the kettle on.

‘This isn’t what I expected,’ she told him, unwinding her scarf.

‘Thinking more black walls and neon signs?’ he called back, grin in place.

‘Was thinking more bachelor pad. Technology and smooth lines, massive TV, all that bloke stuff.’

Lucas raised an eyebrow. ‘Was I ever your average bloke?’

She twitched her mouth in assent. ‘Nope.’

Lucas shrugged and got two mugs from the cupboard. ‘To be fair, a lot of this stuff’s Mum’s. She left it to me.’

‘Your mum’s…gone?’ Her chest contracted a little. This was what happened when you didn’t talk. His mum was good woman, always about with tea and cake, let them get away with murder up in his room, never complained about the music, came to every gig she could. Her life was a mess, but she was a good person…

‘Calm down, Meg, she’s gone to Spain. Living with this bloke out there who sells time shares or something. I’m sure she’ll come running back when it all falls apart.’

Meg shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. As lovely as Linda Bright was, things never seemed to stick for her.

‘How’s Clare?’

‘Really well.’ He smiled at the thought of his sister, as he pushed a bright blue ceramic mug over towards her. ‘She’s on a year studying abroad with university, she’s in Tanzania now, I think. Geographical something…something. She wants to save the world, anyway.’

‘Did she find a community at the university?’ Megan knew all too well just how brilliant deaf kids could become at interacting, but surely university was a different thing altogether.

‘God, I forgot you didn’t know.’ Lucas’ eyes lit up, smiling at the kitchen counter as he tapped his fingers. ‘Clare got a cochlear implant. She can hear a fairly decent amount now. Put her off her balance quite a bit at the beginning, but…’

‘That’s amazing, Luke! That’s…it’s just so great! ’ Megan thought back to the shy little girl with the reddish brown hair who always used to look up at her with those massive eyes, lipreading and gesturing.

‘I’m sad I couldn’t see her,’ Megan said, ‘I’ve missed her. And Skye’s an ace with sign language, she would have loved to have a proper conversation.’

‘Your daughter knows how to sign,’ Lucas said, ‘but you don’t have any deaf people in your family. Is your partner deaf?’

‘Partner?’

‘Jeremy? Isn’t that what Skye said? The guy who told her what making assumptions made you?’ His face was inscrutable, but there was such an air of nonchalance in his voice that she might have believed he cared.

‘Jeremy is a lodger who lives with us,’ Megan explained, ‘he’s been a good friend, and bad influence for years.’

‘So you’re not married then.’

‘Why would I be married?’

Lucas shrugged, not looking at her. ‘Dunno. Just what people do, isn’t it?’

‘You married?’

He looked around him at his flat. ‘Does it look like I’m married?’

She followed his gaze, taking in the throw cushions, the kaftan arranged on the edge of the sofa, the candles burning on the mantlepiece. ‘Well, kinda.’

‘I was. For a bit,’ he offered, blue eyes waiting for her to make a judgement.

‘What happened?’

‘We were young, we met on the road. Musicians aren’t meant to marry. At least not while you’re touring. We broke up. I wrote a song called “One Month Divorced”. She wrote a song called “My Bastard Guitarist Love”. She got a top twenty hit, and I moved back here. End of.’

Megan suspected there was more to it than that, but she wasn’t in any position to start digging for information. She picked up her mug and moved over to the sofa, relaxing into it. She felt the give as he sat down next to her, close enough to feel his warmth, but not close enough to touch. Her heart started rattling a little in her chest, and she tapped her fingertips together in a steady rhythm.

‘Am I making you nervous, Meg?’ Lucas asked with a smile in his voice.

‘No, why?’

‘Because you’re doing that fingertip thing you always used to do.’

She looked down at her hands, and balled them into fists.

‘Remember you did that before we had sex for the first time? It made me laugh.’

‘Well, you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking, so I wasn’t the only one who was scared,’ Megan huffed.

‘Very true.’ Lucas leaned back, surveyed his room, trying to see it through her eyes. Did he look successful, interesting? Lonely? Or did he look like a sad old git with his papers to mark, his guitars sitting in the corner as if screaming out to the world that he never really played in that same way any more?

‘So….you’re a music teacher,’ Megan stated, pointing at the papers on the coffee table.

‘I know, right? I spend years trying to get out of that place and now I’m walking the halls again.’

‘Do you like it?’ Megan pulled her legs up underneath her, curling into the sofa. She liked to watch him, soaking in every detail of this new, grown up Lucas. Did he still pre-roll all his cigarettes and have them sitting in a little case? Did he still wake up at six am no matter what, before mumbling and falling asleep again? His eyes seemed bluer, and his face seemed hardened, that stubble that he never managed to fully remove still smudging around his jawline. He looked as dangerous as he had back then. He was the sinner, he said; she was the angel. And look how that turned out.

‘It’s fine. I can do it. It’s better than working in a factory,’ he shrugged.

‘But not as good as being a rock star.’

He grinned lazily, and she noticed that one dimple he always got on his left cheek, and felt a painful nostalgia. She felt like she was missing him, even though he was sitting there with her, looking at her, his arm reaching along the length of the sofa, his fingertips almost brushing her shoulder.

‘Did you not see me the other night? I’m still a rock star.’

‘Just three nights a week. Perfect compromise,’ Megan smiled, looking at his hand as his thumb gently reached her wrist, stroking the material of her jumper. She looked at him, questioning, but he just shrugged and smiled softly.

‘What about you? What did the great Megan McAllister go off and do to change the world? Besides creating a pretty special kid.’

‘I work with deaf kids,’ she smiled at him, ‘and I love it. I loved learning about it, I love working with these kids, creating programmes for them. Helping them through the implant process.’

‘That’s why Skye knows how to sign. You taught her?’ he asked, blinking.

‘Yeah. When I was pregnant I spent so much time trying to figure out what it was I wanted to do, and I didn’t have any time to waste. And then I remembered that time that Clare taught me how to say “horse”,’ Megan looped her fingers from her forehead down, as if making the shape of a horse’s head, ‘and how much she loved it, that I got it, that I got her…’ Megan shook her head, ‘and I guess I thought one day I would come back here and talk to her properly, and really know her. Like you did.’

Lucas breathed out, eyebrows raised. ‘Jesus, Meg. You come back after ten years without a word, and…all that?’

‘All what? She inspired me, that’s all.’

‘So you’d always planned to come back one day. Because you wanted to see my sister. Because you missed her. ’

‘It’s not like that, I’ve missed you too, but we’re…complicated. ’

‘Only because you made it that way, babe.’

She was looking at the floor when he said it, and it was as if she was seventeen again. As if he was just Lucas, asking why she was being difficult again. Why she hadn’t told her parents about the gig in Camden, and now his Mum was phoning him. Why she insisted on going down into the crowds during gigs when she knew the mic lead wouldn’t stretch that far. Why she had to go away to change the world, and she couldn’t do it from their shitty little village.