by Annie Dyer
We were getting married in the little chapel tucked away in the village that the Callaghan house belonged to. It was small, the old retreat of a privileged family a century ago, and as soon as I saw it, I knew I didn’t need to elope abroad anymore.
Our wedding would be simple: we’d chosen Christmas carols for songs and a simple reading of a poem. We opted to not have bridesmaids and Max would just have Killian as his best man, avoiding the argument of choosing only one of his brothers – or having them all, which he didn’t even tolerate the idea of.
I also figured he was far more comfortable with Killian giving the best man’s speech than Jackson or especially Seph. This way meant there was likely to be less need to remove someone’s dead body, something he was already threatening to do.
The large bookshop, that I knew Owen would’ve taken an instant dislike to, was decorated with Christmas displays in the windows. Books of the year were brandished like chocolate tree decorations and the notes of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen were pipped just loud enough so it could be heard at the store entrance. It was drenched in Christmas, the colours and the lights and the sounds all oozing advent and December, and for a moment I felt the excitement I’d had as a child, that thrilled anticipation at what Santa would bring.
Somewhere between a chocolatier’s and a lingerie shop I’d lost Seph. He’d taken one look at the lacy negligee in the distant window, coughed and made his excuses, adding that he was okay to think of presents. He’d managed to find a couple of gifts already, each of which he’d shed angst over, but it was a start, just about. Better than nothing.
I headed into the shop, debating finding a book I’d heard about for Max, called What To Do With Your Large Penis. It was more of a gift for me, listening to the reactions of Jackson and Seph when he opened it on Christmas Day. I’d never tired of listening to him with his brothers; the banter was constantly there, but so was the loyalty. As a child who’d had a distant and unpleasant half-brother I loved hearing them.
Seph was sitting in a corner of the shop, browsing through a huge book that was a travel guide to the world. He looked engrossed and was completely oblivious to the two girls who looked to be in their very early twenties, who were staring at him and trying not to giggle.
“Who’s that for?”
He jumped as he registered that someone was speaking to him.
“What?”
“The book. Who’s it for?”
“It’s a really good book. I might have to get it for me too.”
As far as I knew, Seph had never been interested in travelling unless it was for a two-week beach holiday. Earlier this year he’d gone to the Seychelles with Shay, his cousin, but had confessed to being homesick for the last three days. We’d put this down to Shay having a holiday romance and Seph being left on his own a little too long. He soon got over it.
“You think Callum would like it?”
He nodded, closing the book. “Probably. He’s been to most of these places. And I know he’s gotten keen on photography recently. He said to me when we spoke the other night, he’s trying to find something to do that doesn’t involve travelling so much.”
“I can’t see Cal ever giving up travelling.” He was Max’s sibling I knew least of all, mainly because he’d been away so much, working as a volunteer for various animal charities abroad.
Seph shook his head. “I think he and Wren are thinking about having kids.” Seph opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else and then stopped.
I knew why he stopped.
“I’m not going to fall to pieces if you talk about someone else having kids, Seph.” I sat down next to him. “Sometimes getting pregnant doesn’t happen overnight.”
He nodded, looked away. “I know. But I know Max is feeling shitty about it.” His expression was pained.
“That’s because Max likes everything to happen within his time scale and nature doesn’t always work like that. We haven’t been desperately trying recently because we wanted to get married and enjoy it.” They were words I’d practiced, heard myself say like a mantra and tried for everyone else’s sake to believe. “You know, I’d like to have a glass of champagne at the reception.” I elbowed him in the side. “And Max was never going to be chilled about all of this. You know that.”
He gave a half smile and I wished I could bundle him up and keep him safe. He worried. I knew he’d been concerned about Max as he’d been bringing him coffee from Amelie’s café on pretty much a daily basis and not spilling it.
“Come on, who’ve you got left to buy for?” I looked at the half dozen bags next to him. They ranged from clothing shops to an independent delicatessen that I knew did the best macaroons outside Paris.
He shrugged. “The cousins. I’ve managed to get everyone something.”
“Then do books for the rest of them. I’m after a book for Max. I’ll need to ask if they’ve got it in stock.”
“What is it?”
I grinned. “What To Do With Your Large Penis.”
Seph almost choked.
5
Hot Firemen of the Year Calendar – From Claire to Lainey
Victoria
Tradition said my dress should be white. I had looked for a white bride’s dress, tried on a few and shuddered at the price for a garment that I’d wear for just one day. It didn’t matter how many dress shops I visited or how many websites I perused with a glass of wine, nothing had motivated me to buy a traditional white dress.
I’d asked Max if he had some fantasy of me wearing white on our wedding day, but that just led to some fairly kinky and rather surprising role-playing sex when I momentarily had my virginity back and he deflowered me. We then swapped roles, and I relieved him of his innocence, although unlike his actual first time, he lasted more than three thrusts. A lot more.
The dress instead was a two piece, a long skirt that was made up of layers of silk and toile, golds and bronzes giving warmth and colour. The top was long sleeved and lacy, plunging low between my breasts and making sure I’d have Max’s thoughts permanently fixed around them until he could get me alone. As soon as I’d seen a picture of it, I’d know it was the one – or the two, as it really was.
The outfit was hung in Marie’s dressing room, recently pressed and covered. Max – and Seph, because he couldn’t hold water – were barred from the space and Max had been told to hang all of his wedding stuff up in Jackson’s suite, because unlike Eliza, Teddy wasn’t going to start to try anything on.
I’d found myself staring at it for at least five minutes now, wondering how much Christmas dinner I’d actually be able to eat before the food baby I’d been developing was obvious. The skirt was useful, as it gave a degree of coverage so I could eat and drink, and didn’t need to lose a stone to make it look like it was meant to.
“It’s a beautiful outfit.”
The voice was sudden. I turned around and saw Marie standing in the doorway.
“I don’t think you could’ve picked a better one.” There was a softness to her voice that rarely came out unless you were alone with her.
Marie was a formidable, strong woman; she possessed a tender side that wasn’t hidden, but was reserved for certain moments.
“Thank you. I should say that I hope Max likes it, but I know he will.”
“He’d like you if you were dressed in a burlap sack.” She sat down on the chaise that I knew was old and had been recovered several times. It was a family heirloom from Marie’s family and Max had said if the house was on fire, it would be the first thing she saved, including all of the children too.
“I’m sorry your parents aren’t here to see you get married, Victoria.” The softness was there again. “They’d have been proud of what you’ve achieved and I know they’d have loved to see you so happy.”
“Thank you. It’s strange – I don’t think about them as much as I probably should. It’s been so long since they died.” I’d been a kid and they’d worked abroad a lot. My father was a reckles
s driver and they’d been involved in an accident that had been fatal for them both.
“I don’t think there are any rules around how much you should think of them. But know they’d be proud. I would if you were my daughter and you’re a credit to your grandfather.”
Tears spilled out before I could catch them. I wasn’t prone to crying, it wasn’t my style, but the wedding and Christmas in general was making me feel more emotional than usual.
“Thank you. I am sorry he won’t be here. He’d have loved Max.”
“Max is wearing your grandfather’s cufflinks for the wedding, isn’t he?” Marie stood up and went over to the large wardrobe that I’d heard Grant suggest held more clothes than Macy’s.
“He is. It was his suggestion. I didn’t want to interfere with what he’d chosen, but he asked if he could.” He’d asked when we’d been in bed, of course, just after he’d managed to coax three orgasms out of me – it had been a stressful day at work, and I’d needed the relief. I had asked why he’d been thinking of my grandfather at that moment in time, because it had seemed a little irregular.
He just told me that he was thinking about how to make me happy.
I hadn’t known how to answer after that.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a box. “This was mine on my wedding day. My mother couldn’t be there, much to her disgust, as Grant and I got married quickly. She had these couriered over from New York.”
I opened the box and found a bracelet, gold links with blue stones set in them. It was dainty, stunning but not brash.
“They’re blue diamonds, because my mother was nothing if not a lover of expensive jewellery. I’d like you to wear it, if you’d want to. Something borrowed and something blue. It’s also pretty old too, so it ticks most of the boxes.” She sat back down. “Don’t feel that you have to, though.”
“I’d love to wear it. Thank you.”
“Let me put it on you.”
I went over to her and offered my wrist, imagining what it would’ve been like if my mother had been here. To be honest, the chances were she’d have been too busy with work to do more than turn up just in time, but I pushed that knowledge from my mind.
“Maxwell is lucky to be marrying you.”
“Thank you. That means a lot given how you pretty much brought him up.”
She smiled. “He was a page boy at our wedding. I remember having to bribe him to wear a suit. We got married quickly, within a few weeks of me getting here, and the kids were half unsure and half relieved to have someone nagging them who wasn’t a nanny. I think the wedding was a bit of a shock to Max and Claire though. It was very quick.”
“What did you wear?”
“A white wedding dress, but one that was off the rack as there wasn’t time to get anything made and altered. We were married at the same chapel where you’re having your wedding.” She smiled.
“Max didn’t mention that.”
“I’m not surprised. I think he’s pretty much forgotten about that day. So much happened in their early lives that I think it became a blur. And he had a lot to get his head round, going from being the sole person caring for a baby sometimes to having someone who could do it for him.” She glanced out of the window. Snow was coming down hard now.
“I hope he gets the chance to be a father.”
Marie got up and walked over to me, pulling me in to a powerful hug. “It will happen. By hook or by crook, it will happen.”
6
Six personal training sessions – from Marie to Grant
Seph
“I can’t believe Mum kept this.”
A homemade tree ornament was thrust into my face by my darling youngest sister, followed by a peel of hysterical laughter.
“You might be the fairy on top of this tree if you’re not careful. And I’ll tell Santa you’re mean and you won’t get your presents.” I tried to glare at her, but she looked the happiest she had done for days.
Ava shook her head, long blonde hair falling everywhere. “Seph, if you’ve managed to get presents for everyone sorted, I’ll eat Dad’s stuffing.”
“You’re eating Dad’s stuffing then.”
She raised her brows. “You’ve bought presents. Actual presents to open on Christmas Day?” Her hands went to her heart and she gasped. “Oh Seph, don’t tell me you’ve wrapped them! I shall have a conniption!”
I picked up the nearest cushion and lobbed at her face.
“Oww!”
“Serves you right. And I have wrapped the presents.” Badly, it had to be said, but they were all disguised in the wrapping paper I’d also remembered to buy.
Or rather, Victoria had reminded me to get.
“Is the wrapping as creative as your attempt at a tree dec?” She pointed to the wooden Christmas tree that I vaguely remembered making when I was about six. It was horrible: sequins and glitter, a couple of jiggly eyes and a message to our mother about how she would always be my Christmas angel.
I ignored Ava, something I was a genius at, and stood up, placing the decoration on the highest branch I could reach.
It was an old Callaghan tradition from before I was born, to decorate the tree on a few days before Christmas Eve. Given the size of the house, there were three trees: one in the entrance hall, one in the formal lounge and this one, which was in the large kitchen-diner.
“There’ll be decorations you’ve made in there, Aves.” I knew Mum had kept all the ones we’d made, just like she’d always kept the homemade Christmas cards too.
“But mine will be tasteful and not sound slightly incestuous.”
I chucked another cushion at her.
“Just be careful you don’t knock anything over, Joseph. It’s bad enough stopping Teddy and Eliza from destroying everything. You being calm would help.”
The matriarch herself entered, coffee in hand. I wouldn’t actually be surprised if the coffee had a little Irish Cream in there already.
“Ava was just admiring my handiwork.” I pointed to the decoration.
Mum chuckled. “I kept them all. Right from the first Christmas I was here.”
The door opened and Jackson walked in, carrying his son who was asleep. “I remember that Christmas. I remember Christmas dinner especially.”
Ava sat down on the sofa and arranged the cushions I’d thrown at her. “What happened that Christmas dinner?”
Jackson laughed and I saw him glance at our mother. “Cooking for six isn’t easy, not when you’re only used to cooking for two.”
Mum shook her head and sent daggers at Jackson. “For more than thirty years this has been a well-kept family secret and you have to announce it to the world now. I might come to the conclusion that you’re volunteering to cook tomorrow.”
“There’s no one on this planet who would think that was a good idea. And your cooking’s improved since that dinner.” Jackson sat down on the other sofa to Ava, Teddy sprawled across him, a defensive barrier in case someone decided to launch an attack.
We reverted back to children here, in the safety of this house, a place that Marie had made safe. It was rare that any of the elder four – Maxwell, Jackson, Claire or Callum – talked about those years where their birth mother had struggled with mental ill health, our father lost himself in work, and Max was the one who tried to take care of Callum. It was the same house, but not the same home.
“So what was dinner like?” It was Ava who dared ask.
Personally, I’d have let it go. Mum had that look in her eye that suggested anyone who irritated her was likely to become Christmas dinner.
“I’d never cooked a turkey before. I was twenty-nine and we’d eaten out every Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner wasn’t cooked by us. At least it was over-cooked.” She looked at Jackson. “Max knew how to make pizzas from scratch and we had the ingredients so…”
“Turkey pizzas,” Jackson ended her sentence. “And Mum and Dad took the heathens out for dinner on Boxing Day.”
“I had no idea what Box
ing Day was. I thought you English watched boxing matches or something.” She picked up Teddy from Jackson’s lap as his eyes had opened and his arms had stretched out towards Nana.
Jackson laughed. “It was the day off for the servants in the big houses – they’d apparently box up food for the master of the house and his family to eat; and the day when the charity boxes in churches would be opened. I had to explain it to a client last week.”
“I know that now. That’s why I take every Boxing Day off. Even servants should have a holiday, isn’t that right, Teddy baby? Isn’t that right?” She bounced him on her knee as he giggled.
Ava made some reply, but I wasn’t listening. All I could focus on was Teddy; his laughter, his smile, his tiny hands and how much he looked like me. He was Jackson’s son all the way, but the family resemblance was uncanny.
He was maybe what my own son would look like.
I loved my family. Unlike the four eldest, my childhood had been pretty much idyllic – besides having Payton as a twin, of course. There had always been someone to talk to, someone to throw a ball with, be with. I knew my siblings thought I needed to become used to my own company, and they were right, but I loved having family with me.
Especially my nephew and niece.
“What other decorations are in that box?”
Jackson’s words brought me back to reality. “Several. There are some that Ava made.” I rummaged them out, sparkly things that had glitter welded to them. “And I think there’s one that was Max’s.” I found the doll Max had defaced, adding what seemed to be a witch’s hat on top, just in green material with a red tinsel trim. It also had a broomstick and on its back was the name ‘Claire.’
I passed it to Jackson.
“Looks like a very good voodoo doll of our sister. I know when Max made this, actually,” Jackson said, standing to place it on the tree. “It was when she was doing her best to kill us both.”
