A Fractured Echo

Chapter 8

Christmas afternoon with Constance and Jackson had been an absolute delight, and just what I needed.  Being honest with myself, had I stayed in my room while Jodie was out, I'd probably have ended up dwelling on the recent revelations from my subconscious.

Once she'd gotten over the initial shock at finding us standing on the doorstep with me trussed up thanks to Jackson's handy knot work, Constance had ushered us both into the house and then pulled me into a huge squishy hug without even bothering to undo the ribbon.  It left me a little taken aback and unable to return the gesture properly, but there was a familiar comfort that came from her embrace.

I hadn't expected to find myself eating a second cooked meal, but there was no way I could refuse the offer.  The permanent smile that graced Constance's face was more than enough to assuage any trepidation relating to the capacity of my stomach.  Thankfully she hadn't pushed a huge helping of food on me when I'd explained about mine & Jodie's kitchen escapades earlier in the day. 

She'd listened intently as I talked about my friend and our feast, and there was a level of gratification in feeling that she was genuinely interested, simply because she was.  There was no ulterior motive with Constance, a lot like Ruby.  Her maternal nature left me sad for her that she'd never had children of her own.  Oddly, the older woman and my boss were somewhat similar, both without children although for very different reasons, both extremely caring to the point of overbearing...but most definitely not intentional.  They also shared a blazing love for their nephews that seemed immeasurable.

Over our late lunch...or early supper depending on how you viewed it, we'd laughed loudly at some of the stories she'd shared of her nephew when he was growing up.  Jackson and I listened earnestly as she recalled memories of her husband Gerald and their wildly frivolous celebrations over the years, even though he must have heard those tales repeatedly over the years. 

Once the table had been cleared and the dishwasher loaded, Constance had insisted we retire to the living room for her and Jackson to exchange gifts.  She'd apologised profusely that she didn't have a gift for me.  Her playful jab at him for not giving her any warning was entertaining to witness, along with the abundance of love that Jackson clearly had for his aunt.  When we sat down, he pulled the parcels from underneath the tree and completely took me by surprise when he announced that the box he'd brought in earlier was actually a gift from him and Constance.  I'd stumbled over my words as it was placed in my lap, arguing that it was too much, but he'd insisted that I had to accept it if only to keep Constance happy and allow him to continue to repent for his previous transgression.

My cheeks blazed a rosy mix of awkward and embarrassed when he'd mouthed the words 'do over' at me, in reference to the night at Factory, before conceding and opening the package.  Lifting the lid on the expensive looking box, there was a layer of tissue printed with the logo of a ridiculously expensive West End department store.  Peeling back the sticker that held the edges closed, my fingers shook.  Nestled beneath the delicate layers, was a grey jumper, a shade or two darker than the one that Constance had lent me the day I got soaked, but just as soft.  Jackson had obviously lost the plot on the gift buying front, and it made me a little uncomfortable accepting it. 

My protestations fell on deaf ears, with Jackson insisting that the cost of the gift wasn't as important as the need to make amends.  He admitted that the idea came about after recalling that I'd kept stroking the sleeves of his aunt's sweater the day we'd first met.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that it had been a purely involuntary response to the stress caused by his reaction to what unfolded.

Casting his eyes to the floor, looking almost bashful, Jackson affirmed, that in reality, he'd bought the least offensive thing he could think of, seeing as he didn't really know me.  However, it was still difficult to wrap my head around the fact a virtual stranger, who had hated me on sight, was now gifting me cashmere knitwear as a quasi-apology slash Christmas present.