The Lincolns

Chapter 5

Martha

The train from Nottingham to Sheffield was just under an hour. Martha spent the journey looking between the book in her lap (Mansfield Park, which she had to finish by the end of the winter holidays) and out of the window at the soft, snowy countryside. In no time the white landscape melted into the city and by the time the train chugged into Sheffield's train station, Martha had devoured a quarter of her novel.

As Martha strode over to the taxi rank to hail a cab, she saw that Sheffield had been adorned with festive decorations: fairy lights were draped over lampposts, shop window mannequins had been dressed up in Santa suits, a huge Christmas tree stood, fat and happy, on the high street.

After Martha's dad had returned, he had moved Martha and her mother into an expensive little mansion in an affluent cul-de-sac on the edge of the city. Martha's mum had practically fainted when she stepped into the marble hallway but Martha was never convinced. Even after spending eight years in it, her room had always smelt like fresh paint, the walk from the door to her bed was too long, the creak of the new floorboards unsettled her. This extended to the whole house, which Martha regarded as being too big and too expensive.

The taxi dropped her off at the foot of the neat pathway and she lugged her suitcase up to the door and rang the doorbell. There was a slightly spicy, sweet smell in the air and Martha glanced up to see curls of cinnamon nestled in a holly wreath.

When Martha and her mother were living alone, she was never allowed Christmas decorations. They were always too expensive or too pointless, although Martha knew the latter part was not true. Fiona Shaw always went gooey every time they walked past a department store's Christmas display in the high street.

When she opened the door the first thing Martha saw was the jumper her mother was wearing. It was a bold, woollen Scandinavian turtleneck and very festive.

"Darling! How good to see you! Oh, how have you been, lovely?"

Martha went in for a hug but Fiona Shaw hesitated.

"I've got floury hands from baking, so you hug me," she explained, holding her arms out in front of her.

 "I've been making mince pies. I've always wanted to make mince pies and this year I thought, why not?"

Martha found her smile getting bigger every time her mother opened her mouth. She had never seen her mum so happy and that, in turn, made her happy.

"Come through to the kitchen, darling, I'm just preeping them," Fiona glided across the hall and into the large IKEA kitchen. Martha dropped her suitcase and followed her.

"Hey, Dad!" she grinned when she saw her father. Alexander Shaw was sat on a stool by an island reading through a cookbook.

"Hello!" he hopped off it and bent down to kiss his daughter on the cheeks.

"How's my A-star girl? Is college treating you well?"

Martha's early worries about college had subsided over the past few months. Her lectures were fascinating - Professor Charlton had stopped digressing and become her favourite tutor - and the drama in her life combined with the anticipation of The Lincolns had distracted her.

"Yeah, I'm great, and college is even better," she said confidently, with a smile.

"Good to hear. Your mother said you had some misgivings early on."

"Well, I've gotten over them. I'm really enjoying my lectures."

"And your social life? How's Katy?"