Together by Christmas

by Karen Swan

  She turned to look up at him. ‘I’m not that abnormal, I’m really not. I mean, apart from the odd nightmare . . . and stuff.’

  He smiled. ‘You’re not exactly the girl next door either! It’s hard to reconcile the person I read about with the woman I met in a hospital toilet, you know?’

  She was quiet for a long moment, knowing he could feel how her heart was banging against his ribs. ‘Well, you didn’t exactly correspond to first impressions either,’ she said, lightly. ‘Hot Sinter’s actually a multi-million-selling author?’

  ‘Oh no. I’m not an author. Trust me, I’m just an impoverished artist who got lucky.’ He reached down and kissed the top of her head. She turned up to face him, their eyes locking, and she felt it begin again, the electricity surge between them. She wriggled up him a little and they kissed, the kiss becoming deeper and more urgent, her leg wrapping around him.

  ‘Well, guess what,’ she whispered, her lips inches from his neck.

  ‘What?’ His voice was a croak as she rolled on top of him.

  ‘. . . You’re about to get lucky again.’

  ‘You’ve got to go,’ she whispered, nudging him, unused to her bed being dwarfed by masculine proportions. He was sleeping face down, his feet practically touching each of the bottom corners, his arm heavy across her stomach. Oh, but he looked so good though . . . ‘It’s almost seven. Jasper’ll be getting up any minute.’

  He opened one eye sleepily. ‘No.’ He closed it again.

  Lee’s mouth dropped open. ‘What do you mean, no?’ she hissed. ‘He can’t see you here.’

  ‘Why not?’ His words were almost obscured by the pillow.

  ‘Because I don’t want him . . . getting ideas. He’s at a tricky age.’

  He took a deep inhale and held it for several seconds, before shifting himself up onto his elbows and looking back at her. ‘He likes me.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean he wants to see you naked in his mama’s bed.’

  He gave a rueful grin, dropping his head. Lee’s gaze slid over to the soft bulge of muscles in his shoulders. ‘Fair enough. But is it really such a disaster for him to see a man in his house cooking breakfast?’

  ‘Who says you’re cooking breakfast?’

  He leaned over and kissed her lingeringly on the lips, silencing her arguments. ‘I do.’ And without another word, he threw back the duvet and walked, butt naked, into her bathroom. He stopped at the door. ‘Just as well you have an en-suite,’ he grinned, shutting the door behind him.

  Lee gave an astonished laugh, not quite able to believe what was going on. She sank back into the pillows, one arm slung across her face as her mind ran a replay of last night’s events. She could still feel the shock in her body at finding him standing there, on her doorstep, the explosion of butterflies in her stomach as he’d stepped into her, kissed her, carried her, thrown her onto the bed . . .

  Oh God. She realized she must look a state; her mascara was probably halfway down her neck by now. She reached onto the bedside table and put her glasses on, checking her reflection in the phone camera. Hmm, could have been worse. She had definite panda eyes, but with her mussed hair, it all luckily lent her a sexy, smudged look. And it wasn’t like he’d been complaining.

  She heard the shower being turned on and listened to the sound of the water hitting the tray, then muffling as he stepped in, hitting his beautiful body instead. She imagined him in there, the water running over his skin. She could hardly believe he was behind that door. That she could just go in there . . .

  ‘Mama?’

  She gave a gasp, her hand pressing to her chest in alarm as Jasper’s sleep-ruffled head peered around the door.

  ‘You didn’t have a nightmare?’ He seemed bewildered by the fact, as though these interruptions defined his own nights as well as hers.

  She gave a smile. ‘No darling. No nightmares last night.’

  He shuffled in, still sleepy, and climbed onto her bed. He curled up on his side, where Sam had been lying, and she leaned over, kissing his hair, his temple, his cheek, marvelling all over again at his utter perfection. Every day it floored her.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ she whispered, resting her cheek against his.

  ‘Mm-hmm.’ He sounded like he could go back to sleep again – which wasn’t an option, she realized with alarm. She did not want Sam coming back in here in all his truly magnificent naked glory.

  ‘Are you excited about decorating Mr Kuiper’s tree today?’

  That woke him up. He sat up with a gasp, his eyes wide. ‘We’re decorating his Christmas tree?’

  ‘Well, I thought it would be a nice thing to do, seeing as he’s all on his own and he’s too old to do it himself. I’ve got to do some shopping for him anyway as he’s getting low on milk, so I thought we could buy a tree too – just a little one, mind – and make it look all Christmassy for him. But obviously I’ll need your help because you’re the tree-decorating expert.’

  ‘He can have the snowflakes we made yesterday!’ Jasper said excitedly.

  ‘Brilliant idea. Okay, well, why don’t you get dressed – and make your bed – and I’ll have my shower—’

  He looked at the bathroom door, realizing the water was already running. ‘It’s on.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ Her brain struggled to find an excuse. ‘I’m just getting the water nice and hot. I felt a bit chilly this morning so I want it to be super-hot for when I get in.’ Please God, she thought, don’t let Sam start singing.

  ‘. . . Okay,’ Jasper shrugged, jumping off the bed and scampering towards his own room, oblivious to Sam’s clothes discarded on the floor. He stopped at the door. ‘Can I wear my Spider-Man outfit?’

  ‘Only if you promise to put thermals on underneath. It’s still cold out there.’

  ‘Okay.’ He disappeared from sight and Lee gave a sigh of relief. She heard the water turn off in the bathroom and several moments later Sam emerged, a towel wrapped around his hips.

  ‘. . . What?’ he asked, as she threw herself back on the pillows and laughed. ‘What’d I do?’

  ‘Sssh,’ she whispered as they tiptoed down the hall towards Jasper’s room, keeping him back with a hand against his chest. He picked up her hand instead and kissed it. She shot him a look but she couldn’t get rid of her grin. ‘Stop it,’ she mouthed, eyes widening as he began sucking on her finger. ‘You are outrageous,’ she whispered, pulling her hand back, unable to stop laughing.

  ‘Mama?’

  ‘Hey Jazz,’ she said, recovering and walking into his room, shutting the door behind her so that Sam could tiptoe past unseen. ‘I’ve come to check you’ve made your bed. Oh! And you actually have!’ Today was full of little surprises, it seemed.

  He was rifling through his dressing-up box for the Spider-Man mask, it not being enough to be dressed shoulder-to-toe in blue and red webbing. She walked over to the window and opened his curtains. His room gave onto the garden at the back, the grass frosted and stiff like iced Christmas cake peaks. She saw a magpie cleaning its feathers in the sycamore tree. A cat – Pabe’s elusive, haughty pet, Toetsen – was slinking along the back walls, unbothered by either the cold or the drop.

  She turned back to face him, taking a deep breath. ‘So, Jazz Man. Do you remember last weekend when we went to get that book signed by mama’s friend, Sam? You remember Sam?’

  Jasper found the mask. ‘He drew me the koala.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ She had forgotten that already. ‘He drew that lovely koala just for you.’ She bit her lip, watching as he turned the mask the right way in again. It was in a rolled mess from the last time he’d taken it off. ‘Well, anyway, he and I were talking and we thought, wouldn’t it be fun if we all had breakfast together? He’s a brilliant cook, apparently, which would make a nice change for you and me to eat something edible for once instead of my usual horrors.’

  Jasper glanced up at her. ‘Okay.’ He was more interested in his mask than his stomach right now.

 
‘Right.’ She’d expected that to be harder. ‘Okay, well, he’s downstairs, just so you know. I didn’t want you to be frightened or anything like that. He’s our friend.’

  ‘I’m not scared. I like him. He’s got kind eyes, like Sinter.’

  ‘. . . Has he?’ she asked, feeling another bubble of hysterical laughter. ‘Oh, well, I hadn’t noticed that. I shall have to pay more attention in future.’

  She watched as Jasper pulled on the mask so that only his eyes and mouth were exposed. He blinked back at her.

  ‘Very cool,’ she smiled. ‘Best boy and best Spider-Man in the whole city.’ She shrugged. ‘Is there no end to your talents?’

  Together they went downstairs, the smells and sounds emanating through the kitchen door telling them that breakfast was already underway.

  ‘Sam, hi!’ she said brightly, bracing her stomach for its usual flip as he turned back to face them, looking Saturday-morning incongruous in last night’s dinner shirt and trousers, his velvet jacket draped across the kitchen chair. It was not helpful to have him looking so good.

  ‘Spider-Man!’ Sam pressed the spatula to his chest. ‘It would be an honour to cook for you. Thank you for keeping our city safe.’

  Lee laughed, looking down at Jasper. He looked back up at her with excited eyes. ‘Do you think we should tell him?’ she asked.

  Jasper nodded solemnly. ‘I’m not Spider-Man!’ he cried, dramatically pulling off the mask and making his dark hair stand on end. ‘I’m Jasper!’

  ‘Jasper?! Oh my goodness, that is crazy! Is it really you?’ He knelt down as Jasper ran over to prove it. Gently, Sam prodded his cheeks and inspected his hair. ‘It really is, isn’t it? That’s amazing. I thought you were the real Spider-Man back there!’ He held his hand up for a high five. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘I’ve still got my koala picture.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad about that, because it’s the only one in the world.’ He rose to standing again. ‘Tell me, do you like pancakes?’

  Jasper nodded.

  ‘Do you like them with strawberries and cream, or banana and maple syrup?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had that before.’

  ‘Well, given that I don’t have any bananas or cream, it might have to be strawberries and maple syrup?’ Lee suggested.

  Sam stared at her for a moment. ‘Interesting combination,’ he quipped, before shrugging. ‘Let’s go with that.’

  ‘Can I help?’ asked Jasper.

  ‘Sure you can. You can pull the tops off the strawberries for me if you like?’

  Lee stood at the island, watching them both as Jasper climbed up onto the kitchen stool and Sam passed him the bowl of berries, the two of them chatting easily as though they did this every Saturday morning. It was almost too beautiful to watch, her son welcoming this man without hesitation. It was everything she had feared.

  ‘Coffee. Strong and black, as I recall,’ Sam said, handing her one, deliberately holding the cup a moment too long and drawing her gaze to his, showing her with a single look that he knew what she was thinking.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He winked, turning back to Jasper again. ‘Those are perfect.’

  Feeling surprisingly redundant, she wandered over to the window, pulling back the curtains and allowing the day to fall in.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she gasped. ‘Jasper, look!’

  He scrambled off the stool and shot over to her, looking out of the large square windows onto the scene outside. Sam came and joined them too, watching a few early birds skating on the canal. Several more people were sitting on the edge of the dock and tying their boots.

  ‘Can we, mama? Oh please!’

  She scanned the length of the canal she could see between the bridges at either end, looking for holes or thinner patches of ice, but it looked reassuringly opaque and strong. ‘I think it should be okay,’ she murmured.

  ‘I’ll go check, as soon as we’ve eaten breakfast,’ Sam said, squeezing Jasper’s shoulder and returning to the pancakes, pouring the first disc into the pan. ‘But it looks good from here.’

  ‘Do you skate?’ Jasper asked, trotting after him like a foal.

  ‘Oh yes. It’s my favourite sport. I grew up doing it as often as I could. My father skated in the last Elfstedentocht.’

  ‘No way!’ Jasper gasped. Even at the tender age of five, he had been indoctrinated into Dutch folklore.

  ‘Seriously?’ Lee asked, equally amazed. It was the Dutch equivalent of being an Olympian, if not more so – plenty of the Olympic ice-skating team had announced they would prioritize an Elfstedentocht over a Games.

  ‘Yes.’ He took the first pancake off the heat and placed it on a plate, before pouring the next. He looked back at Jasper. ‘I wasn’t much older than you are now when he raced; I remember watching him with my brother, the weather was so bad . . . We had made a banner for him, and we cheered so hard when he passed us that my brother lost his voice for three days afterwards.’

  Jasper looked rapt as he knelt on the stool.

  ‘Do you think it’ll happen this year?’ Lee asked him, sinking onto the sill. Every night now, as the high pressure remained stuck over the country, the growing possibility of it being staged was on the news; the weather forecast had become a national obsession, everyone praying for that perfect balance – not so warm it might thaw, not so cold it might snow.

  Sam raised his hands in prayer towards the ceiling. ‘Please God! It is the event I’ve been waiting for my entire life.’

  Jasper laughed excitedly at Sam’s grown-up excitement.

  Lee watched him, seeing his passion too. It had been more than twenty years since the last Elfstedentocht. ‘Would you skate in it? Liam said you were the skating prodigy at uni.’

  ‘Well, I’ve made a point of keeping up my membership with the Frisian Eleven Cities Association and I’ve got my KNSB licence so I’m eligible to compete, but I doubt I’d do that well. The guys in the competitive race are elite athletes, training for hours every day. But just to be part of the pack, even if it was right at the back . . .’ He made the prayer sign again.

  ‘Can we come and watch you?’ Jasper asked, drumming his toes on the seat. ‘I’ll make a banner and I’ll shout so loudly I’ll lose my voice. I won’t mind.’

  Sam chuckled, bringing the last pancakes off the heat. ‘You’re sure? What would mama say?’

  Lee rolled her eyes. ‘Mama would be glad of some peace,’ she quipped.

  He placed the last pancake in the pan. Lee heard it sizzle but the sound had become background, for staring out the window she saw a familiar figure walking down the street. She was silhouetted against the strong, low light, but the neat figure and drum-tum – like a snake who’d swallowed a football – told her it could only be one person.

  ‘I’ll just be a sec,’ Lee said, getting up and glancing over at the boys cooking. Sam was teaching Jasper how to shake the pancake free of the pan.

  She was coming down the stairs as the letterbox was pushed open and a letter dropped through. Lee picked it up distractedly and opened the door, for once not having to deal with bolts and chains first; Sam’s unexpected arrival last night had put paid to that.

  ‘Gisele?’ she called, having to shield her eyes against the blinding glare of the vanilla winter sun. ‘Hi!’ Why hadn’t she knocked?

  Gisele turned on the steps in surprise, looking less than happy to have been accosted. Over her shoulder, a few more people were coming out of their homes and standing by the canalside, looking down excitedly onto the ice. This was one of the smaller canals and she could only imagine how busy it would be soon on the big canals, Herengracht, Keizergracht and Prinsengracht. ‘Oh Lee, you’re up. I didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘We’re always up; no such thing as a lie-in in this house,’ Lee grinned. ‘What a morning!’

  ‘I know,’ Gisele smiled wistfully. ‘The entire city’s going to be on the ice today. Well, almost the entire city.’ She patted he
r belly gently.

  ‘Jasper’s beside himself with excitement, although God only knows where our skates are. I’m going to have to hunt high and low to find them.’ She stepped back a little. ‘Do you want to come in?’

  ‘Oh, no, thank you – I can’t stop.’

  Lee’s eyes narrowed. Why not? Where else could she possibly have to be at 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning? ‘Are you sure? Is everything okay?’ Her eyes fell to the bump. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, the baby’s fine.’

  ‘Cunningham?’

  Gisele gave that little laugh she did whenever she heard her husband called by his surname. ‘Well, I haven’t heard anything, but he told me no news is good news out there, so . . .’ She shrugged.

  ‘Yes, right. Sure,’ Lee agreed, still sensing something was up. Gisele looked nervous, jumpy, and she seemed to be having difficulty holding Lee’s gaze.

  ‘I just wanted to drop that by to you.’ She indicated the letter, limp, in Lee’s hand and Lee almost started as she suddenly realized what it was she was holding. She had been distracted when it had fallen through the letterbox, more surprised by why Gisele hadn’t knocked . . . The letter was in a bright white utilitarian envelope, the sort used in offices across the world. No thick stationery cards, no fountain-pen ink. Just Cunningham’s biro scrawl spelling out her name on the front. ‘I . . . found it. Yesterday.’

  Lee’s gaze flicked up to her, hearing the hesitation. Yesterday? Lee had been waiting for this for over a week. ‘Oh.’ She pressed her fingers against it. It felt thin between her fingers. Everything he had to say compressed onto one sheet of paper, it seemed. ‘Well, thanks.’

  Gisele licked her lips. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was even in the house.’

  ‘No, of course not . . . Where was it?’

  Another pause. ‘It had fallen down the side of the bed. Harry must have left it on his side table and forgotten to bring it downstairs to post.’

  ‘Yes. Sounds like Cunningham,’ Lee lied. He was the most organized person she knew. In the field, bombs could be raining down upon his head, but his phone would always be in his right-hand flak jacket pocket, his pen and notebook in his left one.