The First Christmas Without You:. Michelle Betham
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but I guess I hadn’t been expecting quite this. Mind you, I should have known Matt would never come to a place where there might have been a chance of boredom setting in. And from what little I’d seen of the resort so far, it seemed to have more than its fair share of things to keep everyone occupied.
Looking out of the window I couldn’t help but smile at the view, a view that was never going to fail to remind me of exactly where I was – a blanket of snow covered everything in sight, from the barrage of trees that led out into a forest of pines which stretched out as far as the eye could see in one direction, to the Tyrolean-style buildings that made up the small and compact resort in the other. It was beautiful, and as I watched a line of cross-country skiers in the distance propel themselves through the trees, their poles working in almost perfect unison as they glided across the snow, I couldn’t help but wish Jase was here with me. Cross-country skiing was one of the things he’d wanted to try. It was just one of the many activities we’d talked about, when we’d discussed our plans to visit Lapland. Plans that had been years in the making. And we’d been so close to taking our dream trip together. So close. But now he’d never experience all those things he’d so badly wanted to try.
Being the kind of person Jase was, though, I knew he would have been out there before breakfast, donning those skis, throwing himself into everything with that incredible enthusiasm he’d always had for trying new things. An enthusiasm I was finding hard to muster myself.
A knock at the door pulled me back from sinking into another pit of memories.
‘Sis! It’s Matt!’
‘Come in. Door’s open.’ I turned away from the window, folding my arms against me as Matt walked in, dressed in full skiing regalia of black salopettes, jacket and snow boots, a black hat pulled down over his long, dark hair. ‘What you up to today then?’ I asked, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.
He pulled a face and shut the door behind him, checking himself out in the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe. ‘Me, Jake and Gary are hitting the slopes in a bit. You coming?’ he asked, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair.
I eyed the hired ski boots I’d been fitted for when we’d arrived yesterday. They were sitting on top of the pile of skiwear I’d yet to try out.
‘I know you haven’t done this before, Sis, but me and the guys are quite happy to show you the ropes if you don’t feel like joining the ski school.’
Matt was right, I didn’t feel much like joining the ski school. But then, I didn’t feel much like skiing, full stop. I guess you had to be in the mood, and I wasn’t. Not really. Not yet.
I looked at my brother with his dark, shoulder-length straggly hair and his unkempt beard, and I was desperate for those blue eyes of his to stop looking at me with that hint of pity. Was that how people were going to look at me forever? Yeah, it was definitely time to pull myself together and show them that I really was fine. Even if I didn’t totally feel it. Yet.
‘I think I’m just going to spend today getting to know the place,’ I smiled, walking over to Matt. ‘Y’know, have a wander round the town, watch you lot out there on the slopes, check out the shops.’
‘Not sure Primark’s hit Lapland yet, Jess.’
‘Yeah, you’re funny, Matthew.’
He pulled me into his arms for a hug, sighing. ‘If you’re sure, Sis. But I hate leaving you on your own.’
‘It’s my choice, Matt. Come on, stop looking at me like that, will you? I’ll be fine. I’m forty-two years old, I’m not some child who needs looking after – despite what Mum says. Okay?’
He smiled, giving me one last hug. ‘Yeah. Okay. But if Mum asks, I did everything I could to make you come with us. Alright?’
I couldn’t help laughing. It was obvious Mum had given Matt strict instructions to keep an eye on me, which was fine. It was nothing I hadn’t expected because, despite our ages, we were quite clearly always going to be kids to our parents. But her concern was totally unnecessary. As was Matt’s. ‘Go on. Get out there and enjoy yourself. I really will be fine. In fact, I’m looking forward to exploring the place. It’s got a good feel about it.’
‘Look, meet us for drinks later, okay? There’s an après-ski bar – The Ice Tree – at the bottom of the slopes, just by the back of the spa. I’ll give you a call when we’re done and I’ll buy you a beer. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds great,’ I smiled, almost pushing him out the door. ‘Now get out of here. I’ll see you later.’
I closed the door and walked back into the room, crouching down beside my half-unpacked suitcase, reaching into a side compartment and pulling out a framed photograph – of Jase and me, at Glastonbury a few years ago. It was a photo I loved because we both looked so happy, and we had been. Incredibly so. I remembered everything about that trip, every conversation we’d had, every band we’d seen, every song we’d sung along to. Since he’d been gone I’d made it my mission to remember it all, letting no memory become blurred or weak or fade into the background. Especially now, at Christmas. A time when those no longer here were probably missed more than at any other time of the year, and for me it was a time when I missed Jase more than I could ever explain to anyone.
I stood the photograph up on the bedside table and pulled myself back up, eyeing the pile of clothes stacked neatly on the floor – the padded jacket, the snow trousers; the pair of pink boots I’d bought on the spur of the moment on a shopping trip to Newcastle just before we’d flown out here. I might not be donning the salopettes and ski boots today, but this was Lapland, and the last time I’d checked the temperature outside it was hitting -25 degrees, so if I was even thinking about leaving this hotel then those layers had to go on. Pushing a hand through my hair, I leant over to pick up my clothes, and proceeded to get ready for my day of exploring my temporary new home.
*
It didn’t take long to walk into the small and compact resort, which was just across the road from our hotel. But even before I’d hit the main town centre it felt like I was being thrust into a Christmas wonderland, with huge pine trees strewn with fairy lights on almost every corner, and a multitude of decorations strung up outside every building, giving nobody any excuse not to realise what time of year it was. From reindeers to Santa Claus, singing angels to beautifully elaborate nativity scenes – walking along the snow-covered streets that wound their way through the maze of restaurants, bars and shops felt like escaping into a Christmas you only ever really saw in movies or on TV, and it was making me feel something I hadn’t felt in such a long time. It was making me feel that maybe I could enjoy Christmas again, if I let myself. Even if Jase wasn’t here to share all of it with me. Because this kind of Christmas was something else, made all the more magical by the beautiful, rose-coloured sky that was giving out a kind of surreal half-light against the barrage of decorations and fairy lights that lit up the resort.
With only an average of about three hours’ sunlight a day at this time of year in the Arctic Circle, spending most of the time in darkness was the weirdest thing to get used to, but I also knew that there were days when the sun didn’t rise at all, creating this half-light effect which, I had to admit, was quite stunning to witness.
As I reached the main plaza in the heart of the town centre, I stopped by one of the huge Christmas trees with its array of blue and white lights already twinkling in that strange half-light, and felt inside my jacket to retrieve my camera, quickly capturing a few shots before hurriedly sliding the camera back inside my jacket pocket before it froze. And although it was -25 degrees, I actually felt quite cosy wrapped up in my abundance of layers. But, having taken off a glove for a matter of seconds in order to take the photographs, I knew that without the layers it would be a very different story.
Overhead, the sky was the most incredible colour – a mixture of pink and orange streaks and, even though it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, I could see it wouldn’t be long before the early dusk arrived and this beautiful little place was bathed in that daytime darkness once again. This