Eventually the truck comes to a halt at a safe distance away and clips a snowdrift as it stops, sending a shower of snow spraying across the pavement, and I’m so relieved to see him that I pick up my suitcase and start running towards the truck and come to an abrupt halt when the door opens and a very familiar-looking pair of boots hits the ground. I follow the boots up long, long legs, a wide expanse of charcoal grey coat, to a pale-looking stubbled face.
‘Tav!’ I half-laugh in relief and then let out a sob when I realise the magnitude of him being behind a wheel. ‘You drove?’
‘Not sure you could call it driving.’ He slams the truck door closed behind him and holds on to it on unsteady legs and shows me a trembling hand. ‘Just give me a second.’ He looks truly shaken up by the experience.
‘You haven’t driven for eighteen years!’
‘Some things are worth facing your fears for. Turns out that,’ he jabs a thumb towards the truck, ‘wasn’t as terrifying as the thought of letting you go.’
I have my hands over my mouth as the enormity of that sinks in. I know he was destroyed by the accident he was in. I know he hasn’t even sat inside a car in the two decades since, and the thought he’d do that, for me …
‘And yes, I do know it’s not smart, but the roads are completely empty, I’ve gone at the speed of a sloth on sedatives, and I did a few practice runs in the car park before I left, but nothing else was fast enough to catch you.’
‘Airport’s closed.’ I point up at the dead building behind me.
He bursts into relieved-sounding laughter. ‘Thank God for that.’
And it finishes me off. If I thought I sobbed earlier, now I really sob. There is snot and tears everywhere, and I don’t have any tissues on me so I end up digging in my suitcase and trying to retain my dignity by drying my face on a sock.
I can tell his legs are shaking as he pushes himself off the festive truck and walks over to me. ‘Please don’t go, Sash. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’ve got something special here – I know you feel that too. And I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t read them, and I know I can’t prove that but I’ll spend the rest of forever trying.’
‘Tav …’
‘Meeting you has literally knocked me sideways. Who I was before I met you feels like years ago, not less than a month. You’ve made me feel loved, cared for, and safe. I’ve never shown vulnerability to anyone and from the very first night, you’ve made it okay for me to need help occasionally. You’ve forced me to accept help. You’re the only person who’s ever touched my scars – emotionally and physically. I didn’t want my life entwined with someone else’s, but … I want to be tangled up with you forever.’
There are tears rolling down my cheeks again, and he holds both his hands out and I slip mine into them, my gloves rubbing over his as his fingers tighten.
‘I’ve never left Norway, but if I hadn’t caught you tonight, I was going to apply for a passport the moment the offices reopen after Christmas and turn up on your doorstep in Britain as soon as they’d let me. You are worth a car and a plane journey, and that might not mean much to some people, but it’s a lot to me, and I know you know—’
I use my grip on his hands to pull him down far enough to silence him with a kiss.
Tav’s surprise quickly turns to gentle and protective carefulness. One hand squeezes mine and the other slides around my waist, pulling me against his body and holding me there.
‘As responses go, I quite like that one,’ he says, muffled against my lips and making me giggle.
I kiss him again, feeling light-headed and tingly, which I’m not sure is from kissing him or being outside in the cold for so long, but I’d like to think Tav’s solely responsible.
His lips leave mine and press along my jaw and down, pulling my scarf aside until he can kiss my neck, just under my ear, and I have to hold on to him tighter because I go hot and flushed all over.
His laugh vibrates there until he pulls away, his hand tucking my hair back, his fingers tangling in the twisted mess of my side plait, his thumb rubbing over the shell of my ear, lifting my mouth to his for a peck that turns into more, until neither of us can catch our breath and his forehead rests against mine.
‘I was going to come back.’
His whole face lights up as he stands up to full height. ‘You were?’
‘Not just because the airport’s shut.’ I slide my hand up his jaw. ‘Because I’ve fallen head over heels for you too. God, Tav, the thought of leaving you …’ It makes me shiver and he pulls me impossibly closer.
We look up at the lights, neither of us speaking, both his arms wrapped tight around me, blanketing me with his body, my hands curling into his arms, tight enough to let him know I never want to let go of him again.
It’s such a special sight, like Mother Nature is putting it on just for us. It feels like we’re the only two people in the world. The only two people who have ever seen this formation of these beautiful lights, and it reaffirms that I’ve made the right decision. Leaving would be a mistake, but staying never will.
‘I can’t believe you did that.’ I nod towards the truck. ‘Are you okay?’
He nods against my head, slowly, like he’s not quite sure. ‘Yes. Because some things are worth stepping outside of your comfort zone for. But I’m not doing it again, I can tell you. We’re walking back; someone can come and collect the truck another time.’
‘I thought it was two hours away and there’d be a coroner involved!’
‘I promise I’ll look after you.’ He grins at my apprehension. ‘Come on, there are blankets in the truck for extra warmth and your dad’s waiting on tenterhooks to know if I caught up with you.’
‘You sure he’s not just waiting to see if you smashed his truck up on the way?’
‘Nah.’ He glances back at it. ‘Probably, anyway. He’s different since you came, Sash. More settled, somehow. I know it’s through his own choices, but I think you were what was missing from his life. You coming here has changed everything. For all of us.’
He tugs me across to the truck and opens the door to pull out an armful of Christmas blankets, soft and fleecy as he wraps one and then another one around my shoulders, and I pull it up to my face and breathe in the soft, pepperminty smell of Dad’s festive-themed fabric conditioner as he shrugs a blanket around himself.
He takes my suitcase with one hand and drops the other arm around my shoulders, tucking me against his side as we walk back through the trees, the Northern Lights dancing above us.
***
The North Pole Forest is lit up. Even though it’s closed to visitors, it seems like every fairy light in Norway is twinkling here tonight, and although the lights above are fading now, the occasional pink-edged green streak still skips across the sky.
After we get through the gate and start walking towards the house, I see Dad pacing back and forth across the road, dressed in his Santa costume.
‘Ho ho ho!’ He shouts when he sees us. ‘Here’s Santa’s two best elves.’
‘Dad, you shouldn’t be outside at night without proper layers on – it’s freezing.’
‘Oh, nonsense. Santa’s used to a bit of cold.’ He smiles and points to us, still quite a way away. ‘I knew I could rely on him to catch my favourite daughter.’
‘You also knew the airport would be closed, didn’t you?’ Tav calls.
‘I might’ve had a teeny tiny inkling.’
‘You could’ve shared that with me before I got in the truck; I’d have taken the reindeer.’
‘I think you needed to do that as much as Sasha needed you to,’ he says. ‘Now, enough about that, you’re just in time to meet the new owners!’
‘What?’ Tav and I both stop dead in our tracks and the whole world falls apart.
There can’t be new owners. He must have rescinded the agreement. He never mentioned it again, but I assumed … I glance up at Tav who’s gone decidedly ashen. This was not part of the
plan.
This can’t be happening. We’ve come this far – he can’t sell it from underneath our feet, not after all this.
‘Ah, yes, here they are now.’ Dad indicates to the empty road behind us, and we both look round.
There’s no one there.
I meet Tav’s confused eyes, wondering if my dad is quite all right. The road remains empty.
‘Dad, I really think you should go inside, maybe we should phone a doc—’
‘It’s you two, you blummin’ great pair of idiots. You are the new owners. Both of you.’
‘Us?’ The confusion I’m feeling is mirrored on Tav’s face. ‘What about the offer?’
‘There’s something I need to tell you about that.’ Dad ums and ahs, twisting his hands together. ‘There was no offer. It was a little bit of a test. I wanted to be sure you loved the North Pole Forest as much as I did before I handed it over to you, Sash. Both of you. I know Tav hasn’t been happy here lately, not until you arrived anyway, and I had to be sure that it was really what you both wanted.’
‘Dad! That’s not okay. We’re going to have to do something about your compulsive lying.’
‘You can’t hand this place over to us, Perce,’ Tav says.
Dad waves a dismissive hand as we approach him. ‘The paperwork’s already with my solicitor. What you and Sash have done here is phenomenal. I know how much you love it, and I know that you both bring something to it. It wouldn’t be the North Pole Forest without you, Tav, but the one thing you need is a partner in all senses of the word. I can’t do that, but Sash can. It’s the perfect solution for all of us.’
‘I haven’t sold the house yet,’ I say, even though my stomach fills with butterflies at the prospect of this being permanent, of somehow owning a part of this incredible place. Of getting to stay.
‘You don’t have to. That’s not part of the deal. The thing is, when I bought this place, I bought it for you, Sasha – for the little girl I knew who loved Christmas. I know I’m part of taking away that joy in recent years, and when I came here, I thought this was the one place where you might rediscover that childhood magic. I knew you’d love it. Admittedly I didn’t see this coming—’ he waggles a finger between me and Tav ‘—but that makes it so much better, because the North Pole Forest thrives on love. Falling in love is true, real life magic for any time of year. Combine it with Christmas magic and you’ve got a whole forest of happiness.’
‘But you can’t—’
‘There’s no point in protesting. It would be your inheritance anyway, but I don’t like all that morbid stuff. Much better for you both to take over now. I won’t be around forever. I’m nearly eighty and I’ve had a heart attack, you know.’
‘You do seem to forget that sometimes.’ Tav pushes a hand through his hair, looking bewildered and like he can’t quite believe it.
I squeeze the hand I’m still holding and he looks down at me. Our eyes meet and he smiles slowly, and all the doubts fall silent while the butterfly wings double their fluttering.
When we’ve been smiling at each other for an abnormally long time, Dad clears his throat.
‘And what are you going to do?’ I ask him.
‘I’m going to continue playing Santa for as long as my new bosses will have me, and in the off-season, I might pay a little visit back to Britain. Maybe it’s time to face some old ghosts. But not tonight. For tonight, there’s hot chocolate on and mince pies in the ov—’
The smoke alarm rings out across the forest and Dad groans.
‘I’ll get it.’ Tav laughs as he runs towards the house. ‘Like father, like daughter.’
Dad pulls me into a hug before we start following him indoors. ‘Welcome home, Sash.’
I still can’t get my head around it, and I’m fairly sure I should be quite angry with my dad, and he’s probably lucky it’s Christmas Eve because it’s a scientific fact that you can’t be angry with a man dressed as Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. Especially when he’s answered all of the Christmas wishes I didn’t even know I’d made. The one thing I’ve always wanted – a family and a home.
Chapter 19
Dear Santa,
Can I have a dinosaur for Christmas? We’ve got a garden for it to play in and I’ll take it for a walk every day.
From,
Marie
When I wake up on Christmas morning, Tav’s asleep beside me, and I lie there for a while, appreciating the softness of his breathing, the warmth of his skin, and the weight of his arm draped across me. We stayed in a spare bedroom in Dad’s house last night, and at Dad’s insistence, we left some sweet rice porridge with a knob of butter out for the nisse and hung our empty stockings above the hearth.
I feel like a child again as I slip out from under Tav’s arm and creep down the stairs, and even though I know there aren’t really porridge-eating elves who stop by on festive nights, I still squeal in delight when I find the empty bowl on a table by the fireplace, and a set of sparkly footprints leading to the tree, made from stencils and spray snow.
‘They were pleased with the offering then?’ Tav appears in the living room doorway, leaning against the doorframe with an adorably dishevelled “just woken up” look.
‘You can’t honestly think …’
‘Can’t I?’ He gives me a wink and then yawns and rubs a hand over his eyes. ‘You made it for them last night.’
‘I was keeping Dad happy.’
‘Or you want them to be real … You want to believe in— Hold that thought.’ He disappears into the hallway and the front door opens as he sticks his head out and then comes back, beckoning me to follow.
‘I’m told something that’s important to Brits is a white Christmas.’ He throws the front door open again.
I squeal. ‘It’s snowing! On Christmas Day!’
I’ve gone right back to being a child here. I always used to wish it snowed on Christmas Day. Dad nicknamed me Bing one year because I was always singing Mr Crosby’s most famous song.
I barely have time to shove my feet into the snow-boots by the door as I dash outside, stamping them down until they’re on properly. Tav’s laughing as he follows me out, clearly indulging the Brit who’s never had snow at Christmas before.
I spin around with my arms thrown wide and try to catch snowflakes on my tongue. This is not the sleety rain we have in Britain. These are huge, flat, fluffy flakes, like someone’s tipping a bucket full of bunnies’ tails onto us and I have to look up to make sure someone isn’t on the roof with a snow machine because it’s too perfect to be real.
It’s too early for daylight yet, but the streetlamps illuminate each falling flake, and when I’ve caught a few more and watched them melt in my rapidly freezing hands, I look back at Tav, who’s standing at the top of the wooden steps outside the house, his eyes shining with amusement as he watches me.
There’s something so intimate and relaxed about seeing him out here in his pyjamas, thermal layers on under a plain sage green T-shirt and tartan-patterned wide jersey bottoms, unevenly shoved into his own boots.
I grin at him and do the same “come hither” gesture he did earlier and he’s smiling as he pushes himself off the post he was leaning on and steps onto the road, his legs long enough to avoid the steps altogether.
I grab his hand and make him spin in overexcited circles with me, and then I can’t keep my hands off him as they rub up and down his arms, brushing snow off his top, knowing we can’t stay out here for long because we’re not wrapped up well enough.
His hands hold my waist and he lifts me up, holding me high and then lowering me down until I can wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he pulls me tight against him, spinning us both around as the snowflakes fall.
I press a kiss into his neck and he uses his chin to nudge my head up until our lips can meet.
My mouth crushes against his, surrounded by the scent of his shampoo blending with ice-covered pine branches and the crisp scent of freshly fallen snow. I lose myself in him f
or long minutes, his closeness warm enough to shut out the Arctic chill.
If kissing in the snow isn’t the epitome of winter romance, then I don’t know what is. I could very well have stumbled onto a movie set. It’s the most perfect Christmas Day ever and it’s only 8 a.m.
‘Ho ho ho, Santa’s glad to see his favourite elves having fun.’ There’s the sound of footsteps and hooves on snow and Tav puts me down when we see Dad heading up the road towards us, still dressed in full Santa gear, and leading Rudolph-slash-Clive, who comes across and hoovers over me, and then huffs, disappointed by the general lack of lichen pockets in traditional pyjamas.
Dad tugs his harness and offers him a consolatory snuffle of food pellets from his hand. ‘Thought he could do with a bit of exercise and manly companionship. His new missus has taken an unfortunate liking to Pedro Pascal.’
‘Where on earth have you been at this time of day?’ I ask.
‘Around the world, of course. It was Christmas Eve. My busiest night of the year.’
‘Dad, you’re not actually Santa.’
Tav laughs. ‘He’s been out for his early morning walk, Sash. He’s just winding you up.’
‘Of course I am.’ Dad offers me a wink. ‘Or am I? All I’m saying is you’ve never seen me and Santa in the same room together …’
‘That’s because Santa isn’t—’
Dad cuts me off by tugging the reindeer between me and Tav, making me jump aside to accommodate his single antler.
‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,’ he calls as he walks back towards the reindeer stables, “ho-ho-ho-ing”. ‘Get some hot chocolate on, will you? Santa’s had a hectic night!’
‘Now you’re here for good, you’ll have to take charge of him.’
‘Dad?’ I snort. ‘It’s a grand idea, but good luck in trying.’
Tav laughs. ‘The reindeer. He likes you.’
‘I like him. I like quite a few things around this place.’
He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. His hair falls forward and he doesn’t take his eyes off mine, the intensity in them so hot that’s it’s completely at odds with the snow falling around us.
The Post Box at the North Pole: The perfect cosy and uplifting Christmas romance to curl up with in 2021! Page 30
