Page 78 of Maybe Tomorrow

ChapterThirty

Saturday 24th December 1983

Christmas Eve

Pauline had been deluding herself that Anthony would be home by Christmas. She’d had several meetings with Jennifer Ripley and had taken her enthusiasm for Anthony’s innocence as an indicator that at any moment the police would realise they had the wrong man locked up in prison and would release him immediately without charge. With that in mind, Pauline’s preparations for Christmas were the same as previous years.

She struggled getting the six-foot artificial tree down from the loft and spent hours decorating it on the fifteenth of December (same date as usual). She’d made a Christmas cake and mince pies and even bought a family-size pudding, which she detested. She bought presents for Anthony, wrapped them up and put them under the tree as normal, and then, on Christmas Eve, when she and Leo were enjoying a glass of sherry on the sofa, reality dawned. She looked at the mantlepiece, usually brimming with cards, now barren, and sighed.

‘I’ve been so foolish,’ she said, breaking the silence.

Leo had theTV Timesopen on his lap and a mince pie halfway to his mouth. ‘Sorry?’

‘I should have known he wouldn’t be home for Christmas.’

Leo didn’t say anything.

‘You knew though, didn’t you? You knew he wouldn’t, but you didn’t try to stop me thinking it might be possible,’ she said, turning to him.

‘I thought it highly unlikely. But you looked so happy when you were decorating the tree and baking, happier than I’ve seen you in weeks. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.’

She took his hand and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘The Little and Large Showhas just started on BBC One, if you want to watch it?’ he said with a smile.

Pauline didn’t say anything in return, but kept the forced smile on her face.

Leo went over to the television in the corner of the room and switched it on. Brightness and laughter filled the screen. Leo sat back and was soon laughing at the mismatched comedians. Pauline leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs. Her smile began to ache and die, and the tears came. She saw theTV Timesopen on the coffee table. She’d been through it and circled the programmes she knew Anthony would want to watch. There was a film première on after the comedy sketch show–Flash Gordon. Leo took Anthony to the pictures when it came out. He’d loved it. She could almost picture him on the armchair in his pyjamas and dressing gown, his face glowing with festive excitement, enjoying the film and having an extra cheeky slice of Christmas cake.

The tears rolled down her face and she couldn’t get them to stop.

Less than a five-minute walk away from Pauline’s house, Geoffrey and Judith Patterson’s home was devoid of festive cheer. There was no tree in the corner of the room, no wreath on the front door, no decorations, and no cards on the shelves, despite hundreds being delivered, more than ever before.

Alice loved Christmas. It had been her favourite time of the year, even more than her own birthday. She always said that, as much as she loved getting presents, she loved to give them more. She’d started making her dad a balaclava to wear on the building sites in late September when Geoff first complained of the cold at work. She’d finished it a couple of days before she was killed and had asked her mum to keep it somewhere her dad wouldn’t find it. Judith was dreading giving it to him on Christmas morning but knew Alice would never forgive her if she didn’t.

The house should have been bursting with excitement. They always had a real tree which the three of them lovingly decorated. Judith smiled at the memory until she realised she was remembering it wrong. She and Alice decorated the tree while Geoff sat on the sofa saying Alice was putting the ornaments in the wrong place. He was teasing her, and she always gave as good as she got back. Geoff and Alice were more than father and daughter. They were great friends. That’s what was missing most from this house. Laughter.

Pop Quizhad been on TV earlier. Alice and Geoff would usually have watched that, given outrageously wrong answers to all the questions, laughed themselves silly on the sofa, then settled down with a mug of hot chocolate each. Judith often felt like a single parent with two children.

She looked around the living room. It was stale and oppressive. She looked over at Geoff. He was staring at the blank television screen. His face was hard and unreadable. In the early days after Alice’s death, they’d sat together holding hands, holding each other. Lately, Judith had moved to the armchair. The distance between them was growing. She wondered how much longer their marriage would last. They rarely spoke to each other and when they did there was little emotion behind the words.

‘Tea?’

‘Thanks.’

‘Good day?’

‘Not bad. You?’

‘Same.’

Judith told herself she loved Geoff with all her heart, and she did. But looking at him now, sitting cross-legged, unblinking, his face a map of darkness, she felt nothing.

Christmas Day

Anthony Winstanley loved Christmas. He loved everything about it, from the shops getting festive in mid-October to his mother baking a cake in early November. She would pour brandy over the fruit cake once a week until a few days before Christmas when she rolled out the marzipan and the icing and made little edible models to sit on top. He loved fighting with the branches of the fake tree and trying to get them symmetrical and losing a whole day to decorating it. Every year he begged and pleaded with his mother to buy a real tree, but she refused on the grounds that the needles would fall and she’d be forever out with the Ewbank.

On Christmas Eve, Anthony, his mum, and Leo, would sit on the sofa and watch all the Christmas specials. While his mum wasn’t looking, he’d steal a chocolate from the tree and put the screwed-up piece of foil in his dressing gown pocket to dispose of later. He’d go to bed around ten o’clock, read for a little while, then turn out his light, pull the covers over his head, and pray for sleep to come quickly so it would be morning all the sooner.