Christmas for Beginners: Fall in love with the ultimate festive read from the Sunday Times bestseller

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Some of these are good enough to sell.’ Bev holds up a particularly attractive specimen of glossy, dark green leaves heavy with the most scarlet of berries.

  ‘That’s beautiful.’

  ‘Lottie’s handiwork. We have some very talented crafters here,’ Bev says while Lottie puffs up with pride. ‘I’m going to turn her into a wreath-making machine. What do you think we’d get for them? A fiver?’

  ‘I think that would be worth five pounds of anyone’s money.’

  ‘We are going to be swimming in cash after this,’ Bev says, happily. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  She lowers her voice so I’m the only one who can hear. ‘I’d thought that Alan would dress up as Santa for a couple of hours, but I think it will be all too much for him. I don’t want him traumatised by a ton of overexcited kids. Can you rope anyone else in?’

  ‘I could ask Christian Lee,’ I suggest. ‘He said he was planning to drop in. I’m sure it would be right up his street.’

  ‘Call him,’ Bev says. ‘Tell him we’ve already got a costume. That will be another thing crossed off my list.’

  ‘Consider it done.’ I can’t see him putting up much resistance, though we may have the most camp Santa there ever was.

  Bev throws a bunch of mistletoe to me. ‘Look what Jack found in some of the apple trees. I didn’t even know we had any here.’

  I look at the mistletoe, its delicate leaves and berries like pearls. ‘I haven’t seen this in a long time. Or had the need for it,’ I add.

  ‘Do you want me to hang it in the yard for you?’ Matt asks.

  ‘Great idea,’ Bev says. ‘It will give me loads of excuses to snog Alan.’

  ‘I’ll help you.’ So I follow Matt outside with an armful of mistletoe and he grabs the ladders, some nails and a hammer.

  ‘Here?’ He leans the ladders against the barn.

  ‘Yeah. As good as anywhere, I think.’

  I pass him a bunch of mistletoe and he hangs it from the beam. ‘Not too high?’

  ‘Just perfect.’

  When he climbs down, we both look up to admire it.

  ‘We should check it’s the right height.’

  So we both stand under it and it dangles, enticingly, above our heads. ‘Told you it was perfect.’

  Then we turn to each other and there’s a moment where the temptation to kiss him is very strong. From the look on Matt’s face, I think that he feels the same. We’re close, our bodies inches apart and it would be so very simple for our lips to meet. My heart is pounding and I wonder what magic this mistletoe is performing.

  ‘Molly . . .’

  That breaks the spell and I step away from him. This isn’t right. I’m with someone else. I’m having his child. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, beautiful. But I wanted to ask you something.’

  Now I’m all flustered. ‘We have so much to do. We’d better get on.’

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me still. ‘I’m having a charity ball in January. It usually raises thousands of pounds and I want Hope Farm to be the main beneficiary.’

  ‘That’s fantastic, Matt. I’m so grateful.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure. You know that I’ve fallen in love with this place.’ We both look bashful at the choice of his words. ‘I hold you in the greatest respect, Molly, and I’d also like to ask you to come along as my guest.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I’d be delighted if you’d be by my side.’

  The telling thing is that I actually want to go with him, and you know from previous experience that this kind of event is usually my idea of hell. My mind is whirring. Should I go? I feel that we’re becoming too close and, if I’m honest with you, I enjoy spending time with Matt far more than I should.

  ‘Say something,’ he urges.

  ‘You should probably take someone else,’ I say, sadly. ‘I’m hopeless at socialising. I’d worry about it for weeks. Take someone who’ll enjoy it.’

  He goes to argue, but then thinks better of it. ‘OK. But you’ll be there in spirit with me.’

  ‘I will.’

  I don’t want things to be awkward between us, as I’ve come to rely on Matt and I want him in my life – as a friend. A dear friend.

  ‘I have been asked out on a date,’ he confides.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘A teacher at the local primary school. I went into one of their assemblies recently. We hit it off and she asked me to go for a drink with her.’

  How readily I can imagine that happening. He’s very easy to like.

  ‘Sounds promising.’ I sound as light as I can while acknowledging that it feels as if I’ve been stabbed in the heart.

  ‘If you don’t want to come, she might be a likely candidate for the ball?’

  ‘Sounds ideal,’ I agree, but the words almost stick in my throat.

  He looks at me earnestly and it’s almost too much to bear. ‘Molly?’ A beat. ‘Is that really what you think I should do?’

  This is a moment that could change our relationship for good and we both know it. We either step forward together or step back from the edge. Which is it to be? Do I go with Matt or do I watch from the sidelines while he goes with someone else?

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Go for it!’ I force a bright smile.

  He looks at me and I can’t read his expression. Is it sadness I see or acceptance of our situation? Shelby will be coming home soon and I think that’s a good thing. Absence should make the heart grow fonder but, at the moment, it just seems to be making our life more difficult. Surely it will be better when he’s back.

  ‘Thanks for your advice,’ Matt says and there’s a resigned note in his words. ‘I’ll call her.’

  ‘Great. Let me know how you get on.’

  ‘Friends,’ Matt says.

  ‘Friends,’ I echo.

  But I think that both of us have the feeling that we have lost a little bit of something unspoken.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Finally, it’s our Christmas Open Day. It seems to have been ages in the making and now, suddenly and in a last minute rush, it’s here. And I can’t tell you how nervous I am. I’m not comfortable with people at the best of times and yet we’ve got a crowd of them arriving today. I’m worried about how we’re going to keep them all entertained, while being equally worried that they won’t show up at all. The weather forecast is perfect, but what if they’re wrong and it pours down? That won’t feel very festive. I didn’t sleep a wink all last night dwelling on everything that could go wrong, all the things I can’t control, my animals being top of the list. I know. I can’t help it. Call me a fatalist.

  I’m up before dawn and, as I have done every day for the last week, I throw up in the loo, trying to be as quiet as I can so that Lucas doesn’t hear. I’ve yet to tell him my news. Only Bev knows. But is this down to stress or morning sickness? I don’t know. I look in the mirror and can see the start of a tiny bump, so small it’s barely there. Is it a baby or could it simply be due to Bev force-feeding me mince pies on a daily basis?

  I have no time to consider my predicament now. A few minutes later and I’m in my coat and wellies and out on the farm. Can’t hang about today. Places to go, things to do, stuff to stress about. So far, the forecast is right. It’s a bright, sunny day, but it’s so cold that I can see my breath on the air.

  Grabbing some buckets, I fill them from the food bins before heading into the barn. Everyone gets a little bit of extra grub to see them through the cold winter months.

  ‘Morning, everyone,’ I say. ‘Breakfast is ready.’ I hold out a bucket for the alpacas, who nearly pull me over in their enthusiasm. ‘I need you lot in particular to be on your best behaviour. Remember what that is?’

  Tina flicks her pom-pom hair at me.

  ‘Just try, for once,’ I say. ‘Would it kill you?’

  I move on to give our sheep their breakfast. Fluffy gets a little bit of extra ‘extra’. I’m f
eeling great empathy with her at the moment.

  ‘We’re in this together,’ I whisper to her as she turns her big eyes to me. ‘I’ll look after you.’

  The students have groomed all the ponies and they look sparkly and clean – for the moment. I feed them next. The girls are coming in early today to make the ponies look Christmassy. They’re going to get red ribbons threaded through their manes and, apparently, their hooves will be painted in glittery red varnish. This is the nearest we could get to reindeer.

  The nativity scene is going to be set up in this part of the barn and the lads are going to move the scenery that everyone’s been painting into place just as soon as they’re all here. And, for a moment, I have a good feeling. My terror subsides. This is going to be all right. Bev has been working very hard behind the scenes and I should put my trust in her. We couldn’t have done it without Matt, either. I’ve not seen so much of him since he’s been back on mayor duties full-time. I think he’s trying to catch up with the backlog of commitments he put on hold to help us out. I can’t lie to you, I miss him.

  Shelby called last night. He’s going to get here as soon as he can. Technically, Sunday should be his day off but he always seems to have meetings or press interviews or something that keeps him away from us. But he has promised and I’ll hold him to that. I’m looking forward to seeing him – of course, I am – but part of me is dreading our conversation about our surprise arrival. I just have to hope that he takes it well. It seems odd, but I’ve been trying to curb my own excitement until I know how he’s going to react.

  Animals fed, I head back to the caravan. In the middle of the yard, I stop and look around me. Fairy lights hang from every beam and we’ve got festive bunting strung here, there and everywhere. The kids have been very busy with their crafting endeavours. There are holly garlands and wreaths, the dangerously tempting bunches of mistletoe that you already know about and, in the corner, our huge tree. It all looks quite magical and I feel my eyes fill with tears. Perhaps it’s my hormones being all stirred up, but I think we do good here. I know we do.

  Our kick-off isn’t until two o’clock, so we have plenty of time to get ourselves ready, but many tasks to complete. My next one is to get Lucas out of bed.

  He’s been quiet the last few days and, as far as I know, he hasn’t seen or had much contact with Aurora. I need to sit down with him and find out what their plans are for the baby but, then, I’ve had enough to think about of my own.

  Back in the caravan, I take him a mug of tea in bed. Lucas burrows down into his duvet and it’s hard to see him beneath the pile of covers.

  ‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ I say and put his tea down on his side table. ‘Lots on the agenda today.’

  He opens one eye. ‘I’m good to go.’

  I laugh. ‘Looks like it.’

  He opens the other eye and peers at his phone. ‘Christ on a bike,’ he complains with a groan. ‘Have you seen the time? You’re not stressing already, are you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Chill out. It’ll be good,’ he assures me. ‘We’ve got it all under control. You can relax and enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ I tell him. ‘I know you’ve been working hard with Bev.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ he shrugs. But I know that it is much more than that to him. He takes great pride in the work he does at the farm.

  ‘Is your poem ready?’

  ‘You worry too much.’

  ‘No swear words in it?’

  ‘Fucking LOADS of them,’ he says with a grin.

  That means there’s not. Phew.

  ‘Is Aurora coming today?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Supposedly.’

  ‘All OK there?’ I ask tentatively.

  ‘I dunno,’ he admits. ‘She’s being a bit off with me. Moody and that.’

  ‘Probably hormones.’ Mine are definitely in a tizzy. I also wonder if she’s beginning to realise the enormity of what’s heading her way. I know that I am. Could I have handled this at nineteen? I don’t think so. I’m not sure I can handle it at thirty-several.

  ‘Make sure you spend some quality time with her today. We’re having a bit of a get-together afterwards for the staff and students, a celebration. You can have a few beers, some food.’ A soft drink for Aurora. ‘See if she can stay around for that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says, then he asks, ‘Is Daddy Dearest coming today?’

  ‘I hope so. He said he was.’

  ‘Knowing him, he’ll rock up late when all the work is done and then take all the glory.’

  ‘He’s not as bad as you think,’ I tell him, hoping that I’m right. Shelby knows how important this is to me, to all of us at Hope Farm. ‘Christian’s coming later. He’s going to be Santa.’

  Lucas grins at that. ‘Cool.’

  I stand up and resist the urge to ruffle Lucas’s bed-hair. ‘Want some porridge for breakfast? It’s that kind of day.’

  He nods. ‘Give me five to get my shit together.’

  ‘This will be a good day for us,’ I say. ‘I can feel it in my bones.’

  Lucas snuggles down into his pillow and lets his eyes close again. ‘Weirdo,’ he murmurs.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  By the time Lucas has risen from his pit and downed two bowls of porridge for breakfast, Alan and Bev have arrived.

  Thankfully, Alan is looking stronger every day, but that doesn’t stop Bev from fussing over him. Preferably, she likes to be no more than an inch away from him now. And I don’t blame her. It all must have been a terrible shock for them both.

  ‘Hey,’ I say and give her a hug.

  ‘Look what I brought.’ In the backseat of the car, in a mesh pen, are two handsome turkeys. ‘Before you give me any grief, I know we’re not taking on any more animals, but I had to rescue two turkeys at Christmas, no?’

  I roll my eyes. ‘How could we not?’

  ‘Meet Holly and Ivy.’

  ‘Hi, girls,’ I say. ‘Where are we going to put them?’

  ‘I’ll sort that out,’ Bev assures me. ‘I couldn’t let them be someone’s lunch.’

  ‘Where did you get them?’

  ‘Best you don’t ask. I’ll drive them up to the barn. I don’t think the chickens will mind sharing for a couple of days.’

  Like me, I’m not sure the chickens will have much choice.

  ‘Before I go, I’ve got the cakes from the WI too. They’re in the boot. Treble-wrapped, in boxes and under a table cloth. I think we’re OK hygiene-wise.’

  God forbid we give food poisoning to our visitors via the medium of WI cupcakes.

  Alan goes to the back of the car.

  ‘Don’t lift them if they’re too heavy!’ she shouts. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Alan says. ‘Don’t fret.’

  Bev gives me a sideways glance but Alan takes the cakes in, nevertheless.

  ‘I’ll put them out in the tea room and set up the cups and stuff,’ I tell her.

  My friend nods. ‘When he’s unloaded, I’ll get the turkeys settled. Then we’ll set up the nativity tableau with Lucas in the barn and I’ll put the parking signs up.’ Thankfully, the ground in the field is dry. No having to tow anyone out with a tractor.

  She turns to me and grins. ‘D-day!’

  ‘I’m terrified.’

  ‘It will be perfect,’ she says. ‘Look how hard we’ve worked. The students have been brilliant. You could eat your dinner off the ground in the yard. Our animals look like they’re out of the pages of a kid’s story book. We are fully locked and loaded on the festive front. It’s up to everyone else now. We can do no more.’

  She’s right. Of course.

  ‘Shelby’s coming?’

  I shrug. ‘I hope so. He’s promised.’

  ‘The Hot Mayor messaged me to say that he’ll be here in a few minutes. He can help with the nativity scene. A bit of extra muscle will take the load off Alan.’

  I shouldn’t feel funny because Matt’s texti
ng Bev rather than me, but I do. Is it because I made it clear we could be nothing more than friends? Did he want something more from me?

  Alan comes out of the tea room. ‘Cakes are in.’

  ‘Right.’ I rub my hands together in a purposeful manner.

  ‘I’ll go and get sorted in there. There’s a tombola to fix up, too.’

  ‘It’s not a proper do without a tombola,’ Bev says wisely. ‘I’ll get horses down,’ Alan says and wanders off.

  Sweeney and Carter are coming into the stables by the yard for the event as I’m sure everyone would like to admire our gentle giants. Their doors have been framed with holly decorations – out of range so they don’t get munched.

  ‘I’ll come to the barn when I’m finished,’ I tell Bev.

  She moves towards me and whispers, ‘No lifting! Are you going to tell Shelby your good news today?’

  I pull a worried face as I answer, ‘That’s my plan.’

  ‘It’ll be great,’ Bev says. ‘You’ll see. He’ll be thrilled.’

  It’s fair to say that I’m less confident about his reaction than my friend.

  ‘We’d better get on,’ Bev adds. ‘You go and titivate the cakes. I’ll supervise scenery shifting.’

  ‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

  She nods and we go our separate ways. In the tea room, the boxes of cakes from the WI are all lined up on the counter and I set about displaying them nicely before covering the mouthwatering array of mince pies and Christmas cupcakes in cling film until opening time. I put out a table to hold our array of tombola prizes and stick the necessary numbers on them before adding their counterparts to the drum. Among the terror, I get a flutter of excitement. Everything will be all right. I know it will.

  Before I leave the tea room to help the others, I stop and have a look around me. The students have done a brilliant job in here. The walls are filled with photographs of them and our animals in action, there’s homemade bunting too and an abundance of tinsel in swags. The Christmas tree is laden with their own baubles from our craft sessions and I go over and switch on the lights. It looks lovely. My eyes fill with tears. I look at their faces adorning our walls – Jack, Asha, Lottie, Erin, Tamara, Seb, Jody, Penny; each and every one of our students and my dear Lucas. Sometimes the kids here drive us mad – they can be difficult, demanding, challenging and, on occasion, prone to violence. There are days when they test our patience to the limit, when we get kicked, bitten, scratched and sworn at. But we love them, we all do. And on the days when they are adorable, kind, co-operative, eager, loving and funny, it makes it all seem worthwhile.