Chapter 41
It was a funny old Christmas Day. Bittersweet. Gerry and Sue had invited us to the farm for dinner, but we’d decided we wanted to be alone with one another and our thoughts while we ate. Merriment wasn’t really on the cards, with an empty chair at the head of the table.
‘Thanks for the jumper, sis,’ Tom said when we’d had dinner. Dad had always made us wait until after we’d eaten to exchange presents. As kids it’d driven us mad, but we’d secretly enjoyed our toys more for the anticipation.
Tom pulled his new jumper, a novelty Fair Isle with a picture of Darth Vader and the legend ‘I find your lack of cheer disturbing’, over his head.
‘You’re welcome. Ta for the book,’ I said, flicking through it. It was called F**k: A History of the F-Word. Now everything with the viaduct was sorted, my little outburst at Sienna had become something of a family joke.
‘No worries,’ he said with a grin. ‘At least next time you start chucking obscenities about on telly you’ll be well-informed.’
‘Dad’d give you a right telling off for that.’ I sighed. ‘Weird just us, isn’t it?’
Tom smiled as Flash came bounding in from the kitchenette and nearly cannoned into one of K&M Garden Centre’s finest Norwegian spruces. ‘Not just us. This is Flash’s first Christmas, don’t forget.’
‘Wish it was a jollier one for him.’ I grimaced as he jumped up to lick my face. ‘Ew. Turkey breath.’
‘He still tries to get into Dad’s room. Funny how they remember people.’
‘I know.’ I gave Flash a hug. ‘He’s a good dog.’
‘Keeps trying to drag me off to the chip shop, too.’ Tom sighed. ‘Six weeks now, sis.’
‘Don’t give up yet,’ I said, patting his knee. ‘Let’s just get through Christmas, then… well, we’ll think of something.’ I pushed Flash off my knee and stood up. ‘Right. Dad wouldn’t want us moping. I’ll sort a couple of sherries and we’ll have a game of Scrabble, how does that sound?’
‘Perfect. You’re prepared for an arse-kicking though, yeah?’
‘Please. You’ve never, ever beaten me. Ever.’
‘Ah, but this is my year. Flash and me are going to form a boys’ superteam. No mere girl can beat us.’
I frowned when I heard the intercom buzz to tell us someone was outside the restaurant.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked Tom.
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Not expecting anyone.’
I went into the hall and pressed the intercom button.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Stew. Can I come up?’
‘Oh. Course, we’d love to see you.’ I pressed the button to unlock the door.
‘What?’ I said to Tom, who was standing in the living-room doorway grinning at me. ‘We would love to see him, wouldn’t we?’
‘One of us would.’
I opened the hallway door and Stew came in. He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
‘Happy Christmas, love.’
‘You too,’ I said with a little blush.
He gave Tom a hug, too. ‘Liking the jumper, Tommy.’
‘Thanks. I do think the flashing light sabre brings out my eyes. Had a good day?’
‘Not bad. Just back from Christmas dinner at Mum and Dad’s. Lucky Harper’s abandoned that living foodist stuff or I think Mum might’ve had a nervous breakdown cooking for him.’
‘You want to stay for a sherry? We were just about to play Scrabble.’ Tom lowered his voice. ‘You have to watch Lana though, she cheats.’
Stew frowned. ‘Did you two not get the message?’
‘Eh?’ Tom said. ‘What message?’
I slapped my palm against my head. ‘Sorry, Tommy, totally forgot. Gerry and Sue invited us for afternoon drinks with some people from the village.’ I shot him an apologetic smile. ‘I did say we’d go. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Course not, sounds nice. I’ll just grab a fleece.’
He ducked into his bedroom, and Stew shot me a knowing grin.
‘All set?’ I asked him.
‘Yep. Everyone’s in place. You sure he – ’
But he was interrupted by Tom coming back out in his winter coat and beanie.
Stew cleared his throat. ‘Right. Let’s go.’
***
‘Happy Christmas, you three,’ Gerry said when we knocked at the farmhouse. It looked very festive, the roof salted with frost and a jolly wreath on the door in stark contrast to Gerry’s black ‘Bah Humbug’ Santa hat.
‘How long have you had that hat, Gerry?’ I said, presenting my cheek for a kiss. ‘I remember you wearing it when we were at primary.’
‘Brand new, this is. The missus treated me to another this year. Said the old one had fleas.’
He beckoned us inside. We followed him into the living room, where Sue had arranged a table of festive nibbles. There were various people milling around: Yolanda and Deano, thankfully managing to keep their hands off each other for five minutes; Roger Collingwood scoffing a mince pie; Billy from the pub; a load of Gerry’s morrismen mates…
‘Where is he?’ I muttered to Gerry.
‘Helping Sue in the kitchen.’ Gerry raised his voice. ‘Er, let me get the three of you a drink. Beer for you lads?’
‘Yeah, cheers,’ Tom said.
‘Can I not have a beer?’ I asked.
Stew grinned at me. ‘Nope. Your uncle says you have to drink wine with your little finger stuck out like a proper lady. He is from the olden days, to be fair.’
Gerry laughed. ‘Well, I can probably find a Guinness, since it’s Christmas. You’ll still have to stick your little finger out though, Lana.’
He disappeared off into the kitchen to get our drinks.
‘There’s Deano,’ Tom said. ‘Shall we – ’ He stopped as the kitchen door opened. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Surprise,’ I said, smiling. ‘This is your real present, the jumper was just a sweetener.’
Cameron’s eyebrows shot up when he caught sight of Tom.
‘What’s he doing here?’ he demanded of Sue, dumping his tray of sherries down on the piano.
‘That’s what I just said,’ Tom said.
Cameron glared at him. ‘I didn’t ask you.’ He turned back to Sue. ‘You told me him and Lana couldn’t make it.’
‘Well, I lied,’ she said with a shrug.
‘What for?’
‘I’ll tell you what for, young Cameron. Because I’ve known Tom Donati since he thought the main purpose of his willy was playing fireman in the garden…’
Tom grimaced. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘… and I know him too well not to know what he’s feeling,’ Sue went on, ignoring him. ‘Oh, he can be a right pillock. He stutters and stumbles and talks a load of old rubbish…’
Tom turned to me. ‘Is this a family intervention? Because no offence but so far it royally sucks.’
‘Give her a minute. She’s just getting into her stride,’ I whispered.
‘… but those are just words,’ Sue said. ‘He’s not good with words but he’s good with feelings. And he loves you.’
Cameron’s eyes went wide. ‘Bloody hell, does he?’
Gerry nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘Yep,’ I said.
‘Yep,’ Deano called from the buffet table.
Stew smiled. ‘Everyone knows but you, Cam.’
Tom glared at us. ‘Why’re you lot talking about me like I’m not here?’
I gave him a little push forward. ‘Go on then, bruv. We’ve said our bit. The floor’s all yours.’
He walked hesitantly towards Cameron.
‘Looks like they set us up,’ Tom said quietly.
‘I know. Soppy gits.’ Cameron looked him up and down. ‘Nice jumper.’
‘Thanks. Christmas present.’
‘So do you, Tommy?’
‘Yeah. You?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Come here then.’ Tom bent to plant a kiss on Cameron’s lips and the two melted into a hug.
‘Missed you,’ I heard Cam whisper. ‘Sorry I wouldn’t talk to you. I thought you didn’t… you know.’
‘Missed you too,’ Tom said. ‘Sorry I was daft about your parents. I’d be proud to meet them. Just be prepared for them to hate me.’
‘Give over, they’ll love you.’
‘Well, I love you.’
‘Me too. Happy Christmas, Tommy.’
I elbowed Stew as we watched them embrace. ‘It’s a Christmas miracle, eh?’
‘They just needed a nudge. These shy people are a nightmare to get talking.’
I turned to face him. ‘Well, thanks for helping.’
‘Anything to see them happy. Oh.’ He handed me a small gift-wrapped parcel from his jacket pocket. ‘For you.’
I eyed it quizzically. ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’
‘I wanted to though. Go on, open it.’
I tore off the paper. Inside was a box, which I opened to find a pretty silver bracelet with four tiny charms attached: a bat, a train, a trombone and a bike.
‘One for all the times you’ve done something amazing this year,’ Stew said. ‘Like bringing the Tour here, and getting the viaduct reopened – that’s the little train. Maybe by next Christmas it’ll be full.’
I blinked as my eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I whispered. ‘What made you think of it?’
‘It’s what your dad said in his eulogy, isn’t it? I wanted you to have something to mark every time you make the world better.’
The eulogy… how did he know about that?
He smiled at the look on my face. ‘Tom told me. I knew it’d be a difficult Christmas for you.’
‘Thank you,’ I mumbled. ‘I feel awful for not getting you anything.’
‘There is one thing I’d like very much,’ he said softly. ‘Can I?’
My eyes were fixed on his, and the rest of the room seemed to have fuzzed into nothing.
‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘Yes please.’
His face was moving towards mine, and if he’d kissed me then I’d gladly have melted into his arms forever, caution be damned. But before our lips could meet, Roger Collingwood came barging over with his stupid size 12 clown feet and the room came back into focus.
‘Hello, you two,’ he said, beaming. ‘Any news on the viaduct?’
Stew turned to glare at him. ‘No. It’s fallen down.’
Roger looked puzzled. ‘Was that a joke?’
He sighed. ‘Yes. Sorry, Rodge.’
‘I’m not interrupting, am I?’
‘Not at all.’ Stewart summoned a polite smile. ‘Go on, please. We can finish this later.’