Free The Night Before Christmas by Scarlett Bailey Page A

hand. ‘Lydia is such a pretty name.’
    ‘Nice to meet you,’ Lydia said, recovering a little and pulling her hand out of his, glancing around at her friends, laughing, talking, slapping shoulders, shaking hands. For a moment, she felt like one of the ghosts of Christmas, present but invisible, unable to take part. Or no, not the ghost, like Scrooge, looking in on the life he could never be part of. This was supposed to be her perfect Christmas, the first one ever. Now she couldn’t think of any other way that itcould be less perfect. The single most humiliating and hurtful moment of her life had been wrapped up in gorgeous packaging and delivered at her feet.
    ‘Right, well …’ Joanna broke the moment, taking off her coat and flinging it casually over the reception desk. ‘We could stand about here all day gawping at my stunning boyfriend like idiots, or we could get on with the business of Christmas cheer. Point me in the direction of the mulled wine, at once!’
    Frantically gathering what was left of her wits, Lydia waited for a moment as her little group of cherished friends, plus one, moved from the hallway, following Katy towards the sitting room, Jake already regaling Jackson with some tall tale about monsters in the lake.
    After a moment, she felt something tugging her, and looking down she saw Tilly, still decked out in tinsel, her vest peeking out from under her homemade fairy outfit.
    ‘Are you okay, Aunty Lydia?’ Tilly asked her. ‘You look very surprised.’
    ‘I am very surprised,’ Lydia said, shaking her head. ‘I am very surprised indeed.’
    ‘Did you see a ghost?’ Tilly asked her, wide-eyed, still clinging on to Lydia, gazing into the dark corners under the stairs. ‘Was it Mad Molly?’
    ‘I didn’t see a ghost, Tilly,’ Lydia said, remembering the feel of Jackson’s hand in hers. ‘No, he very definitely wasn’t dead. Not yet anyway.’
    By the time Lydia and Tilly caught up with the others, they had moved from the sitting room into the dining room. Lydia was grateful to see that Joanna and Jackson weren’t present, at least for the moment. Joanna had probably gone to change into some designer ensemble for dinner: it was one of her foibles. Sometimes she even dressed for dinner when it was a takeaway from the local Chinese. Joanna would rarely be drawn on what little family life she had as a child was like before her parents handed her over to boarding schools. Lydia only knew that it had been exceptionally privileged, if markedly lacking in parental love. The absence of a conventional happy family was one of the main things that bound the two totally different women together, even if they did come from entirely different sides of the tracks. That and the man they had now unwittingly shared. The terrible thing was that Lydia was sure Joanna would be in for the same treatment as her. She had to warn her – but when? Which part of Christmas should she ruin first?
    Katy had opened up what would soon be the guest dining room to accommodate them all, arranging the selection of tables in one row and covering it with a long red paper tablecloth, candles and Kirsty Allsopp-inspired, make-your-own crackers. Katy, being Katy, had run up a gingham-themed runner that afternoon, decorating it with appliqué holly leaves and sprinkling little silver stars over the place settings. It lookedbeautiful, Lydia thought, a small lump forming in her throat; just how she imagined a Dickensian Christmas table would look. (If
A Christmas Carol
had been styled by Disney.)
    ‘Please excuse the paper tablecloth,’ Katy said, as she observed the overall effect of her work. ‘I thought I’d save my best linen for the big day. I have to take everything to the dry cleaners in Keswick to get the stains off, as the washing machine we’ve currently got here is literally one step up from a mangle. The industrial one doesn’t arrive until the New Year.’
    ‘We helped Mummy make the crackers!’ said Tilly