Chapter 2
MEET THE GIRLS – Preparing for Switzerland
Ginny
As Ginny stepped out into the dining area, the candlelit festive dining table caught her breath. She shuddered at the sting in the backs of her eyes.
‘Oh, it’s …’ The amber flickering mixed with the sparkle of the decorations toyed with her emotions. They looked almost too cheerful. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said, blinking away those brimming tears. Her daughter Rachel and daughter-in-law Clemmie had laid it beautifully, and Ginny’s heart swelled at the effort each of her children and in-laws, even the grandchildren, had made on this difficult day: their first Christmas without their father and grandfather. It just didn’t feel right to enjoy Christmas without him.
The family waited in silence for her to be seated, watching as she wiped a stray tear from her face and pulled on a band at the back of her head, unleashing her mane of shoulder-length hair that she had tied back before preparing dinner.
‘You’ve all made such an effort. Thank you,’ she said smiling at each of them as she nestled in the chair and smoothed her hair. ‘OK, let’s enjoy,’ she added, grateful for their input. Thank goodness Rachel and Ross had helped in the kitchen getting everything into the right serving dishes. The morning had been manic. In fact, the whole week had. It had been a rush trying to fit everything in before her ski trip to Switzerland. The effort involved in getting time off work for a hair appointment, getting to the farm shop for the last-minute veg, fruit and salad, cleaning the house, cooking the meats and prepping in readiness for the family’s arrival had all proved to be worth it. She had forgotten just how much Mike used to contribute to helping around the house, particularly at Christmas and family gatherings. He always prepped the veg and was a dab hand at juggling the food around in the fridge so that beers and wine would fit in. They were small things that counted in a big way.
She heaved out a sigh. At least they were all together. She raised her Prosecco-filled glass, first to her daughter Rachel and son Ross who sat either side of her, then to the others.
‘Well, shall we …?’ Ginny waited for each of her family to pick up a filled glass or, in the children’s case, plastic flutes of lemonade.
‘Merry Christmas, Mum,’ Rachel cheered in unison with Ross, and Ginny’s eyes glistened mirroring theirs, her gaze flicking quickly to their partners and children gathered around the festive-food-filled table.
‘Hope
