Underneath the Christmas Tree

I didn’t know whether it was the surfeit of champagne, a reaction to the day’s events, the date or a combination of all three, but by the time the bottle was empty, I was feeling tipsy, tired and even more emotional than I had been earlier. Ned and I lay side by side on the rug with Bandit draped over us, a most welcome insulating layer, and watched as the sky slipped from dusky to dark and the stars began to shine.

It wasn’t the first time I’d laid in that spot, but with Ned it felt completely different. Or perhaps that was the fizz befuddling my brain. My head swam with thoughts of Dad and I wished, for what must have been the millionth time, that the outcome of his last visit to see me had been different.

‘I suppose we should be getting back,’ Ned eventually said.

‘Mmm,’ I agreed. ‘You’re probably right.’

I had no idea how long we’d been laying there and sat up slowly, making sure I kept still until the world stopped spinning. Between us we packed the things back into the truck and then took one last look at the tree.

‘Don’t worry,’ Ned reassured me. ‘I’ll keep an eye on it.’

‘I know you will,’ I huskily said.

The sight of it, silhouetted against the star-filled night sky, caused another burst of emotion to bloom.

‘I just wish Dad was here to see it,’ I whispered, my breath streaming out and away in the chill crisp air.

Ned didn’t say anything.

‘I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to him, you know,’ I carried on, my usually guarded thoughts weakened by the impact of the champagne. ‘If I could just turn back the clock…’

My throat felt tight as I bit back the avalanche of words backing up in my brain. I wasn’t drunk enough to forget that if I said them, I’d never be able to take them back. However, that didn’t stop a strangled sob escaping my lips.

‘Hey,’ said Ned, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. ‘You can’t blame yourself, Liza.’ I shook my head, his kindness further weakening my defences. ‘None of what happened that night was your fault. It was just…’

‘It was,’ I loudly said, the last guard crumbling as I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away. ‘It’s my fault he’s dead.’

I stumbled back, catching sight of Ned’s shocked expression.

‘He wasn’t supposed to be with me,’ I sobbed, as a river of tears coursed down my cheeks, stinging as they mingled with the frosty air. ‘He just turned up.’

‘At your flat?’

‘Yes,’ I snapped. ‘At mine.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Ned.

‘No one does,’ I cut in. ‘I’ve never told anyone because I knew they’d blame me…’

I cut the words off, turned away and blindly ran. I sprinted away from the tree, away from Bandit and away from Ned. Had it been possible, I would have run to the furthest edges of the world.

The track was rough and uneven, completely unsuitable for stumbling along in the dark and totally non-negotiable after drinking half a bottle of champagne. I’d barely covered any ground before my foot caught and I fell, jarring my ankle, tearing my jeans and grazing my cheek as I swiped something before landing heavily on the cold, hard earth.

‘Liza!’ shouted Ned, as Bandit flung himself down by my side. He whined in distress. As did I.

Then Ned was there, checking my bruised and battered body for breaks, before scooping me up and carrying me back to the lodge. I was grateful that everyone had long since left and no one was there to witness my stupidity.

Ned set me gently down on the sofa, pulled off his coat and caught his breath. I turned my face away, too mortified to face him. I heard him moving about in the kitchen and when I put my trembling hand up to my cheek it came away crimson with blood. The sight of it made me feel nauseous as well as stupid.

‘I’m going to call Dad and get him to take us to the hospital,’ said Ned. ‘I can’t drive because I’ve had a drink.’

I turned to look at him. The action made me feel dizzy but that was probably the result of the champagne rather than the impact of the fall.

‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s no need.’

Ned didn’t look convinced.

‘I didn’t hit my head.’ I told him. ‘This is just a graze. A scratch from something I caught on the way down.’

‘I want to be certain,’ he firmly said.

‘Please, Ned,’ I begged. ‘Don’t. I was an idiot to run off like that, but it’s my pride that’s more wounded than anything else. This is just a scrape and a twisted ankle. Nothing more. I don’t need to go to hospital and waste everyone’s time.’

He shook his head.

‘I honestly didn’t hit my head,’ I said again. ‘I didn’t lose consciousness, did I? I can easily clean these scratches myself and wrap a bag of frozen peas around my ankle.’

‘No,’ he resignedly said. ‘You can’t. But I can.’

While he fetched the first aid kit from the utility room, I wriggled out of my jeans and covered my legs with the throw from the sofa. It would have been pointless to clean my scraped knees and then pull the soiled fabric over them. I was able to put a little weight on my ankle, but not much.

‘This might sting a bit,’ said Ned, as he tenderly dabbed at the graze on my cheek.

I rested my head back and closed my eyes.

‘You know,’ he softly said, ‘you might feel better if you finished saying what it was you started out there.’

His voice sounded close and when I opened my eyes his face was just inches from mine.

‘I don’t think so.’ I swallowed, closing my eyes again.

He was quiet, but only for a moment.

‘It’s something you’ve carried with you for years, isn’t it?’

I didn’t answer.

‘I bet it’s nowhere as terrible as you think it is.’

‘You’re wrong,’ I whispered.

‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’ he pushed.

‘All right,’ I gruffly said, pushing his hand away and hoisting myself into a more upright position. ‘How about,’ I said, looking straight at him, ‘it’s my fault that my dad died?’

My eyes filled with tears and I stared up at the ceiling, trying to force them back.

‘You weren’t the drunk driver…’

‘No,’ I cut in, ‘but I was the daughter who argued with him, before he stormed off. Had I forced him to stay he wouldn’t have been on the road, would he?’

Ned didn’t say anything.

‘So,’ I said, ‘now you know. Now you know, I’m responsible for what happened. I’m responsible for all of it.’

‘No,’ said Ned. ‘You’re not.’

‘He wasn’t even supposed to be at mine that weekend,’ I carried on, ignoring what he’d said. ‘I’d mentioned I was having a tough time at work when we talked on the phone and he just turned up.’

‘To make sure you were okay?’

‘To see if he could convince me to come home,’ I blurted out. ‘Again.’

‘Here, to Wynter’s you mean?’

‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘He never got it into his head, that I didn’t think of this place as home and when I said as much, for the umpteenth time, we argued and he left.’

‘I didn’t know he’d seen you that night,’ Ned frowned. ‘What with the crash happening so close to Wynmouth…’

‘I should never have let him leave,’ I cut in. ‘I was so angry. I’d told him that Wynter’s Trees was his cure all, not mine. The last words we’d had were cross ones.’

Ned leant forward and dabbed my cheek again.

‘Does my dad know about this?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ve never told anyone.’

‘You should have told him,’ Ned softly said. ‘There’s no way he would have kept asking you to come back if he knew what was really keeping you away.’

‘How could I have told him this?’ I whispered. ‘He would have hated me.’

‘He wouldn’t,’ said Ned, reaching for my hand. ‘He would have helped you.’

I snatched mine away.

‘I don’t deserve help,’ I bit back. ‘I deserve to feel the guilt that’s pressed down on me every hour since it happened.’

‘No,’ Ned firmly said. ‘You don’t.’

‘I let him leave,’ I reminded him. ‘I let Dad leave after an argument and now I’ll never get the chance to make my peace with him.’

‘But that still doesn’t make you responsible for what happened.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ I scowled.

‘No,’ said Ned. ‘God no. Your dad could have been on that stretch of road at that time for any number of reasons.’

‘But had I not let him leave, he wouldn’t have been.’

Ned bit his lip.

‘You see,’ I choked. ‘It is my fault.’

‘Did you ask him to go?’ Ned asked, changing tack. ‘Did you kick him out of your flat and slam the door behind him?’

‘No,’ I gasped, shocked at the suggestion. ‘Of course not. I begged him to stay.’

‘So, your dad left of his own free will and against yours? You didn’t let him go, as you put it. He left, didn’t he?’

‘Well, yes,’ I said, ‘but…’

‘Liza, look at me. You can’t keep blaming yourself for the decision your father made to leave that night. Other people’s choices are exactly that. Their choices. Not yours or mine or anyone else’s. We’re only responsible for our own actions and our own decisions.’

I thought about what he had said as he turned his attention to the cut on my knee. Dad had left of his own free will. I had begged him to stay, I had wanted to clear the air about Wynter’s Trees once and for all, but he’d refused to listen. He refused to let me explain that while the place was his sanctuary, it wasn’t mine and that I’d get through the difficult time at work and carry on.

‘You need to let this go,’ Ned seriously said, as he gently blew on the graze, ‘otherwise you’ll never have a happy life. It absolutely isn’t your fault that your dad died and it’s not your fault that Wynter’s isn’t the right fit for you either. From what Dad’s recently told me, this place was thrust upon you during a very difficult time. It’s no wonder you never fell in love with it.’

But I might have done. Eventually. Had Chelsea not poisoned it. Too late now. I closed my eyes and my mind flicked over, through and around my muddled thoughts. Was it time to let it all go? Not just my attachment to Wynter’s Trees, but my guilt too. Ned had said my life wouldn’t be happy all the time I hung on to it and that thought terrified me. I was planning a brand-new life, a new business and an exciting adventure, but what would be the point of any it, if I was never going to be happy? If I wasn’t free?

Ned was right. It was time to let it all go. Even my desire for him.

‘Liza?’

My eyes fluttered open again.

‘Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?’ he asked, his eyes raking across my face before looking deep into my eyes.

‘One hundred per cent,’ I said, moistening my lips.

His gaze flicked to my mouth.

‘You aren’t feeling dizzy?’ he throatily asked. ‘Your vision isn’t blurred, is it?’

‘No,’ I said, lifting my head and pressing my lips to his.

It was a soft kiss. Sweet and tender and it felt perfect. He began to kiss me back but I gently drew away.

‘My vision is completely fine,’ I told him. ‘Thank you, Ned. I can see everything clearly now.’