Page 47 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Half an hour later, the slow cooker, crockery and all other evidence of their evening was neatly stacked in the crate.

She was glad to have something to do to take her mind off worrying for Diggory and Ryan, and hating herself for sticking her oar into something that was none of her business anyway.

She was also faced with the problem of how she was going to get Benj’s boat back to the marina. She picked up her phone.

Aunt Aggie answered on the second ring. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Does anyone in the Pine Bluff Jezebels know how to drive a boat?”

“Most of them, I shouldn’t wonder. What do you need?”

Fred explained the situation.

“Sit tight, we’ll have someone with you shortly,” said her aunt, and hung up.

Fred sat in the captain’s chair and switched off the lamps, the better to see the sea. The moon fought to emerge from behind a lone cloud, and patches of ocean gleamed silver on the horizon each time it broke free. She called her mum; she’d want to be there for Martha.

“I’m on my way to the hospital now,” said Bella.

“Are you driving?” Fred asked. Her mum’s voice seemed too crisp to be on hands-free.

“No, Liam’s driving, we were together when Martha called.”

“Oh. Okay. Listen, if you see Ryan…” If she saw Ryan, what? What should she ask her mum to say on her behalf? Sorry my daughter’s an idiot? “Just, um, tell him I’m thinking about him.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The wind howled around the boat, whistling in through the windows, and the rocking became bumpier.

Fred sat looking out at the inky-black waves, wishing for all she was worth that tonight had played out differently.

When the north wind shoved the cloud aside and the moon shone out again, Fred focused her mind on it, shutting out everything else, so that it was only her and the moon, and for the first time in what felt like forever she reached out to the universe.

She asked it to watch over Diggory, and she sent positive vibes out into the ether for him.

And she asked for guidance and wisdom to help set her on her new path.

“Please,” she said to the moon, as her final request, “please help me to stop fucking things up—”

The door slammed open, making her jump.

“The cavalry hath arrived!” Aunt Aggie declared.

Mina came in behind her.

“You’re a Pine Bluff Jezebel?” Fred asked.

“Of course,” Mina replied. “All the best people are. Though I’m in a slightly younger chapter. Right, let’s get this baby to bed.” And with that, she began barking out orders that Fred and Aunt Aggie diligently followed, and soon they were chugging their way around the bay toward the marina.

Once the boat was safely moored, and Mina and Fred had hauled the equipment out of the sheds and back onto it, they made their way over to the car park where Mr. Bishop’s tractor was idling. Aunt Cam waved from the seat beside him.

“All aboard!” Mr. Bishop called, thumbing behind him to indicate the trailer hooked up to the cab.

Fred and Mina helped Aunt Aggie up into it, and they just had time to settle themselves between hay bales before the tractor began chugging away from the beach. It was bumpy, but better than walking, and the hay was surprisingly good insulation.

They dropped Mina off first. Bettina came out of her house in tartan pajamas and boot slippers to meet her girlfriend at the gate. The two of them stood arm in arm at the picket fence and waved the tractor off.

The roads were quiet, and in no time at all they were pulling up onto the drive at home and the tractor was bathed in the glow from a thousand fairy lights glittering across the lawns and walls of Hallow House.

“Thanks, Mr. Bishop,” said Fred, when they’d extracted Aunt Aggie from her nest in the trailer. “I really appreciate your help.”

“Anytime,” the farmer grumbled, slamming the tailgate shut.

“Phew!” Aunt Aggie puffed as she and Cam pulled straw out of her hair. “That’s my first roll in the hay in a while.” The singing Christmas tree began its warbling but Aggie held her hand up and said, firmly, “Shush!” And to Fred’s surprise, it did.

Mr. Bishop shouted, “Tally ho!” as he chugged back down the drive in his tractor, the trailer clanking behind it.

Fred checked her phone for what felt like the fiftieth time as she trailed into Hallow House behind her aunts. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Ryan?” she asked Cam.

“No, love, but your mum messaged to say they were all at the hospital and that Diggory is stable,” Cam replied.

“Oh, that’s a relief.” She hoped Ryan was okay, too, he’d been visibly shaken by the news. But she was sure Benj and Rab would look out for him.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Aunt Aggie, “get into your jimjams and come and meet us out by the chiminea for a nightcap.”

“It’s pretty late. Wouldn’t you rather be in bed?”

“Pish!” was Aggie’s response. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be very good company at the moment,” said Fred.

“Even at your very worst, you are our most favorite kind of company, my love,” said Aunt Cam.

“And feeling out of sorts is the best time to let go of those things that are weighing you down. You’ve been through a lot in the last few years; I think setting some new intentions will help you to move forward.

It’s time to compile a new wish list, one for the woman you are now.

And to stop worrying about the things that can’t be changed. ”

“Cam’s right. The past can take care of itself, it’s the present that needs your attention.” Aunt Aggie nodded sagely at her.

Fred considered: did she really want to be alone in the dark with her thoughts right now? “Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she called, taking the stairs to her bedroom two at a time.

It was not lost on her that, only a few weeks ago, she would have poo-pooed the very idea of setting intentions, and yet here she was preparing for her second go in one night.

Ryan was right; when she was a child, being in touch with her spirituality and her place in the universe was simply a way of living, but in her quest for “normality” she had shut those pathways down.

She could see now how both Tim and being “normal” were vastly overrated.

Once in her bedroom, Fred texted Ryan, asking how his dad was.

She changed into her brushed-cotton pajamas with squirrels and acorns on, pulled on her thickest bedsocks and topped off the ensemble with her teddy-fleece dressing gown and a knitted bobble hat, before padding downstairs.

She grabbed her mum’s Dryrobe, pulled on her Wellington boots and headed out to the aunts, looking like a walking clothes-horse.

Halfway along the garden path her phone pinged.

Dad’s stable. It was angina, he’s got some new medication. He’ll be okay. They’re keeping him in overnight. I’ll bring Mum home shortly. Mina told me you’d got the boat sorted, thanks for that. x

She read the message over twice, fingers hovering as she considered what to type. Watching and waiting as the three dots at the bottom of the screen kept appearing and disappearing, wondering what it was he was hesitant to write. When the dots stopped altogether, she typed a reply.

I’m so relieved to hear your dad’s okay. I’m sorry I was pushy before. For what it’s worth, I genuinely believe you made the right decision. Sending good thoughts to you all. x

She pressed “send” and waited. Nothing. No blue ticks.

He was probably dealing with his family.

Sighing, she pocketed her phone and wandered the winding path around to where her aunts sat on their bench, looking out to sea, a bright orange fire burning merrily in the chiminea.

A moon chair with two rolled-up blankets in the seat had been set up at one end of the bench.

Fred wrapped one blanket around her shoulders and sat down, tucking the other over her legs.

It should have been blowing a hooley up here, but the breeze was gentle, as though it didn’t want to intrude on their gathering.

“Did you hear from Mum?” she asked, snuggling down in the chair.

“She’s left the hospital, but she’s gone back to the pub with Liam for a drink,” said Aunt Aggie, pouring a stream of thick, dark hot chocolate from a large silver coffee pot into a teacup and passing it to Fred.

Fred could smell the alcohol in it before the cup reached her.

“We thought about postponing until your mother could be here, too, but I had a very strong feeling that tonight was right for you to be doing this,” said Aunt Cam.

Wow , thought Fred. When she’d asked the moon for guidance, she hadn’t expected it to be delivered quite so quickly. She sipped her hot chocolate; it was strong and sweet, spicy with ginger, and warming with Tia Maria and Baileys.

“Remind me, how do we start?” Fred asked.

“Goodness, it has been a long time for you, hasn’t it?” said Aunt Aggie.

She decided not to tell them exactly how long.

“Let’s start with the purge,” said Aunt Cam. “You’re going to let go of negative emotions.”

“That could take a while,” Fred quipped, dryly.

“Then it’s a good job we’re not in a hurry,” said Aunt Aggie.

Aunt Cam passed Fred a cotton drawstring bag filled with scraps of torn paper, and Aunt Aggie handed her a pencil and a clipboard.

“Now, take a few moments to settle and center yourself,” Aunt Cam began.

“And then start to write each thing you’d like to let go of on the scraps. Just one thing per piece.”

Fred felt a strong temptation to scurry back within the walls she’d so carefully built around herself, rather than face her demons, but she’d already taken the first step on the boat, and if she backed away now she might not be brave enough again.

So, she picked up the pencil and began to write.

She took her time, thinking carefully about each negative emotion and how it affected her as she noted it down.

Feeling like Tim was right about me.

Feeling like I can’t trust my own judgment.

Feeling small.

Feeling that I am not enough as I am.

Feeling cross with Mum.

Feeling cross with myself.

Being quick to judge.

Feeling like I don’t deserve good things…

Finally, when she had a lap full of scraps, she put the pencil down. It had felt like hard work, laying down all the things she carried around with her.

“Good,” said Aunt Cam. “Well done. Now, you are going to take each scrap, and you are going to read it—in your head, if you prefer—and you are going to acknowledge that feeling, gather it all together inside you, pull it up through your body and push all of it out into the paper, and then cast the paper into fire and watch it burn away.”

Fred took a breath and rolled her shoulders.

And then she began. She imagined each negative feeling as a web of colored string that had wrapped itself around her insides and knotted itself in place.

She focused on unwinding the strings and pulling all the strands together in a ball, directing them upward through her body, before breathing them out onto the paper and dropping it into the chiminea.

She watched each piece blacken at the edges and curl in on itself until it was nothing but ash.

With each burning fragment another brick in her walls dissolved.

When the purge was over, and the flames had settled, Aunt Aggie poured them each another hot chocolate and then, with a grin that looked decidedly impish in the orange glow of the fire, she said, “And now for the good bit! Setting intentions and practicing gratitude!”

“Take a moment,” said Aunt Cam, serenely. “And then think about what you’d like to achieve emotionally and spiritually, each day, to be the very happiest version of yourself. Then tell it to the moon, three times over.”

“Out loud?” Fred asked.

“Don’t be shy,” said Aunt Aggie. “I once watched you take a dump in a flowerpot; I think we’re past embarrassment.”

“I was four,” Fred retorted. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“I don’t imagine so, no.”

Fred rolled her eyes, then let out a long breath and reasoned that she’d come this far, she might as well go the whole hog. She took a sip of boozy hot chocolate and began to speak her intentions out loud, giving herself time to make sure she was feeling them from the heart.

Once she’d gotten over her self-consciousness, largely due to the very alcoholic hot chocolate taking effect, she quickly got into the swing of it and informed the moon that she intended to be open to love, to be authentic, to be a better listener, to forgive herself for the things she couldn’t change, to be mindful of making the same mistakes again, to let go of old grudges and to practice kindness daily.

She shouted the last one, flinging her arms wide open: “I intend to hold my own self accountable and to let go of the resentment I have held against Mum, because she doesn’t deserve it!

” That one earned a cheer from Aunt Aggie.

By the time she’d finished, she felt more than a little drunk. And when they moved on to the gratitude part of proceedings, the positivity in the air was so palpable it caused a great deal of giggling and dancing and whooping directed out toward the ocean.

When she finally kissed the aunts good night and watched them disappear into their little cottage near the woods, she made her way slowly back to the house and up the stairs to bed, feeling loose limbed and lazy, replete with gratitude and benevolence toward the people in her life.

This was a new start, a clean slate, and she couldn’t wait to get going on it.

She would call Ryan in the morning and tell him how very much she liked him, and that being near him made her happy, it always had.

And she would tell her mum that she loved her, that she’d been a great parent, and that she appreciated her.

She fell asleep with good intentions dancing in her head, and she slept like a woman who had laid her ghosts to rest.