On the walk home from Dottie’s, I hadn’t just looked at photos of my trip. I’d looked back at all the ones I had from Christmases over the years.

I must have looked bizarre—a human ball of wool trudging along the side of a road, who kept sliding into snowy ditches because she was staring at a phone while laughing and crying to herself. Often at the same time.

Christmas really was the best time of the year—which is why it felt so weird to be feeling so sad. And so on my own. It was almost Christmas Eve Eve, and normally I’d be wrapping Naomi’s presents with her (/for her) while we watched a film with Mum.

Uh-oh. Danger of a second wave of tears.

I really wanted to tell Mum how much I loved her (maybe Colin too), so I rang the landline, but Colin-human answered. Mum was out, but it was weirdly nice to chat to him and get the updates on the twins. In fact, something about hearing his voice made me tell him slightly more than I meant to. That I was missing home. A lot. They say “a problem shared is a problem halved,” but this was more “a problem shared is a problem awkwardly coughed at.” At least I managed to not admit that, despite how lovely everyone here was, I was petrified at the thought of not being home for Christmas. But, when I put the phone down, I did feel a tiny bit better—especially as another call came through within minutes.

“I’m sorry, but that face does NOT look okay.”

I’d never felt so happy to see Naomi—even though my credit was only going to last a few minutes. I adjusted my headphones and deployed an emergency smile.

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

Naomi pulled her hair up. She looked so tanned and happy—and there was my face in the corner. Blotchy, cry-y and potentially slightly blue—rushing out the house to try and find Nick was one thing, forgetting it was minus twenty was another.

“Honestly, you’re not.” She lifted her sunglasses, squinted at the screen, and put them down. “Where are you anyway? It looks like…a blizzard.”

“It kind of is.”

Naomi sipped something that looked like a green coconut with a straw in it. How could a drink make me feel worse?! Still, at least she was having a good time. That was the main thing.

“Jelz.”

“Hardly.” If she was jealous of bad weather, she could have come home and not decided to spend Christmas on a beach. “So?”

“So what? I can’t just ring my sister for a catch-up?”

“Not at seven a.m., I mean, I didn’t even know you could do words at that time?”