She gave a sad laugh. ‘Been better, I suppose.’

‘God, I’m so sorry about all this.’

‘It’s me who’s the sorry one, Ash.’

‘Listen, I know Caty tried you earlier …’ He fell silent. ‘I’m sure she’ll try again later, it’s just with Devan here …’ He stopped. ‘But she’s worrying about you. And missing you, as we all are.’

Tears misted her eyes. ‘I miss you all too. Terribly.’

‘It’s been pretty hectic –’

‘How is Devan?’ she interrupted, although she didn’t really want to hear Ash’s answer.

‘Umm, not great, if I’m honest. He doesn’t mention you much, just rants on about Jared. And his back’s bad again.’

Connie winced. There was a direct correlation between Devan’s back pain and his emotional state, his previous bout disappearing, like snow in summer, as soon as his mood improved. Now she could imagine her husband’s dark-blue eyes, bruised and flashing with hurt. She let out an involuntary sigh. ‘I can’t tell you how much this call means to me, Ash,’ she said. ‘I’m truly sorry for everything … not least ruining your Christmas.’ She wanted to hug him for being so kind, knowing what he must be dealing with at home. She wondered if Caitlin had asked him to call, or whether he’d done it off his own bat.

‘No worries. You know I’m not a fan of the festive season.’ He chuckled. ‘We’re off up to Manchester on the twenty-seventh, where Ma will no doubt feed me till I burst. Roll on January.’

Don’t go, she thought, as she sensed Ash winding up the call. She wanted to ask about Bash, to hear about this year’s Nativity and what he was getting for Christmas. But before she had a chance, Ash was speaking again, this time sounding furtive, in a hurry to be off the phone. ‘Listen, let’s arrange something as soon as we get back. Have you over … Bye, Connie, lots of love.’

28

Ash’s call was a fillip for Connie. Her mood instantly improved. She knew nothing had really changed, but at least the agonizing wall of silence had been breached. It was a ray of hope. She knew she could manage her despair if there was the prospect of seeing her daughter and grandson – dear Ash – in the new year, even if Caitlin was still angry with her. About her future with Devan she dared not think. That was much, much more complicated.

On Christmas Eve, she spruced herself up – replacing the jeans she felt she’d been wearing since the last century with her black ones – and went out to do some shopping. She’d decided she really would get into the festive spirit now, buy lots of delicious things, then hole up, be patient and wait it out. There’s nothing I can do about anything until after Christmas, she told herself.