I made a mistake. A colossal mistake. I underestimated Catherine Dawson. As soon as she got to work that day and found out that I’d had to fly to Aberdeen, she knew there was a good chance Lizzie would be on her own in the house. I should have realized that would happen. I should have made Lizzie come with me.

When I phoned the surgery again from the airport, to let them know I’d be staying in Scotland overnight and that they’d better get cover, one of the girls on reception let slip that it was going to be a hectic couple of days now that two members of staff were off at the same time.

“Oh yeah?” I said. “Who’s the other one, then?”

As soon as she said the name Catherine, I knew. My heart pounded against my rib cage. My brain raced. That’s when I started running back to where I’d parked the car, all thoughts of the flight I’d just booked and my father’s body abandoned in the rush to drive back home. Back home to Lizzie.

The rest, as they say, is history.

I underestimated Lizzie, too. She’s stronger than I thought.

56

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2019

I’m sitting on the floor in the middle of my parents’ living room, surrounded by brightly colored wrapping paper. Toby gurgles contentedly as Dad dangles a piece of red ribbon in front of him as if he’s a kitten that will swat at it. He’s wedged between Dad’s legs, the lights of the Christmas tree dancing in his eyes. Not quite the little girl I was expecting—so much for my gut instincts—but my love for him is fierce, has been from the moment I first set eyes on him. I wouldn’t swap him for the world.

Dad lifts Toby’s right arm and makes him wave at me. Dad is wearing one of those ludicrous Christmas jumpers with a reindeer’s head on the front. Mum bought it for him as a joke. She always buys us funny things along with our proper gifts. I got a pair of novelty elf slippers with curled toes and bells on the end.

Not that we laughed as much as we normally would. Not that we laughed much at all. We’re just going through the motions, really, because what else can we do? And besides, this is Toby’s first-ever Christmas and, although he’s only four weeks old and won’t remember a single thing about it, we will. Because in a way, it’s our first Christmas, too. Our first Christmas as an altered family, but a family nonetheless.