Tom shook his head and took another sip of the coffee. ‘Not for me,’ he muttered. He wished, at this moment, that Morag was right.
Fourteen
‘I’m sorry, Meg, but that creature is just so noisy. Does it have to be awake all night?’ Kitty frowned and twisted in the kitchen chair, glancing in the direction of the hall and Meg’s bedroom as Blitzen took another energetic run on his wheel. The resulting squeaks and rattles echoed though the small flat and seemed to ping off the walls, setting her mother’s teeth on edge. ‘You know my thoughts on pets – but this is your house.’ She winced. ‘It’s just this constant racket…’ She put her fingers to her temples and pursed her lips.
‘Mum, there’s nowhere else Blitzen can go. You already said putting him downstairs in the shop, even in the storeroom, could present a health and safety hazard. Meg’s got some of the cafe’s food in there.’ Emily stood in the kitchen doorway and flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder, frowning at her dad as he came to stand beside her. He’d been working all morning and this was the first Meg had seen of him. He looked tired and a little beaten down. He’d been in Lockton for five days now and her mother was still refusing to talk. It was like she’d given up on their marriage, just when he’d decided to fight.
‘I’m sorry, darling, I have to agree with your mother,’ he said, as Kitty drummed her fingers on the table.
She froze and the kitchen fell silent. ‘You do?’ Kitty asked, her eyes widening, her mouth curling into the barest hint of a quizzical smile.
He shrugged and looked at his hands. ‘I’ve not been sleeping that well either.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot and I’ve realised you’re right. I don’t listen – haven’t for years. I’m trying to now, Kit, and I’m agreeing with you. There’s a lot more I’d agree with if you’d let me.’
Her blue eyes widened even further and Meg’s stomach dropped.
‘I’m sorry, Meg, we really appreciate you having us here.’ Her dad sighed. ‘Perhaps we should move to a hotel?’ He looked uncertainly at his wife. ‘We could get you a room too, Emily.’
‘I’d rather stay here,’ Emily said, making Meg smile.
‘Then I’m not going anywhere either,’ Kitty insisted. ‘I’m not leaving the girls.’
Meg sighed and gave them a bright smile. ‘I’ll speak to Davey at Apple Cross Inn. He could probably have Blitzen for a while. I don’t want you to move to a hotel.’ She didn’t know why. Having them move out would have been a dream come true a week ago, but somehow… it was the first connection she’d seen between her parents for years that hadn’t taken place on the twenty-fifth of December. She couldn’t quite bring herself to let it go.
‘I’m going out,’ Emily said, looking unhappy. She turned and walked out of the kitchen, then Meg heard footsteps on the stairs. She got up and looked into the hall just in time to see the top of Emily’s guitar case disappear downwards in a series of bobs.
She walked back into the kitchen and put her hands into the pockets of her dress. She’d been working in the shop all day and hadn’t changed out of her elf suit yet. Perhaps it was because the green velvet suited her – or maybe it just made her feel safe? ‘I’m going to take him now,’ she told her parents. Meg headed into her bedroom and picked up a small blanket from the bed before wrapping it around Blitzen’s cage. She grabbed a bag of food, popping it into her handbag, intending to leave her parents to talk. But by the time she got back into the hall, her dad was working in the sitting room and her mum was staring at her computer again.
The high street was quiet and for once, it wasn’t snowing. It was early evening so none of the shops were open, but even from outside her store Meg could see Tom’s car parked next to the pub and Davey loading cans of paint into his boot. She walked quickly, worried about Blitzen getting cold.
‘What are you doing?’ She propped the cage onto her hip, ignoring the shiver of excitement when her eyes connected with Tom’s.
‘This one’s offered to decorate the kitchen after he finishes installing the cupboards,’ Davey replied, eyeing her with interest. ‘Moving out?’ He nodded at the cage.
‘The flat’s a little small for five. Blitzen’s noisy. Don’t you have a spare room? Could he stay with you?’
Davey pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry – I’d love to, but Johnny’s allergic to fur. He can tolerate dogs, probably because we used to have one when we were younger, but everything else with four legs sets him off. He’ll be sniffling and coughing in minutes, there’s no stopping it. We’ve tried all sorts, even pills don’t work.’
‘I’ll take him,’ Tom offered. ‘Cooper’s only interested in things he can eat, and hamsters aren’t on the menu.’ He shook his head with a mixture of amusement and despair. ‘There’s a spare bedroom in the cottage. If I close the door I won’t be able to hear your hamster and he can come downstairs in the day. You could visit now, check the accommodation’s up to scratch?’ He cocked his head, searching her face.
Meg swallowed, thinking about their kiss a couple of days before. In some ways it was like it hadn’t even happened. Perhaps that was for the best? ‘Okay.’ Meg nodded, turning back to Davey. ‘Did you manage to fit all of Lilith’s food into the pub?’
Crimson flooded his cheeks. ‘Just about – she’s been coming to the kitchen every day to cook and pick things up.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘She made tiramisu yesterday – it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted.’ He frowned. ‘Don’t tell Agnes I said that.’
‘Sounds like a keeper,’ Tom said, earning a dark stare from Davey, whose eyes flicked inexplicably to Meg.
‘I’ll see you,’ Tom said, and opened the car door for Meg, helping her climb into the passenger seat before putting Blitzen’s cage onto her knees, as awareness danced across her skin.
They took the road out of town, and as they approached the square Meg spotted a figure sitting on a bench facing the Promise Tree. The woman was staring at the decorations – and a guitar case sat in the snow by her feet. ‘Could you stop, please?’ Meg asked, opening the door when Tom pulled up. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked Emily, who was staring blankly into the snow.
‘It’s pretty here,’ her sister said. ‘I come when I want to think. I even serenaded the tree once.’ She patted a hand on the guitar. ‘If I sit for long enough I can usually spot different footprints, unless it’s snowing and they disappear. Those ones over there are from a robin – I’ve seen a big fat one flying around. It likes to sit on the baubles. I’ve seen foxes early in the morning and plenty of inquisitive cats.’ She pointed to a deep oval print with a dot above it. ‘I’ve been trying to work out what creature that print belongs to.’ She pulled a face. ‘I wish I’d brought my animal books from home. Do you remember, I had hundreds of them?’ She frowned. ‘I used to be obsessed, then my exams took over and Mum wanted me to be an accountant and it was easier to just go with the flow…’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve been searching footprints on Google, but haven’t been able to find one like this.’ She shivered. ‘I’m sorry, I was being silly earlier – I was upset about Blitzen having to be rehomed. I’ve enjoyed having him in the flat.’
Tom wound his window down. ‘Want to come back to mine before you both freeze?’
Emily’s eyes flashed to Meg’s.
‘Tom’s offered to have Blitzen,’ Meg explained.
Her sister nodded. ‘Mum and Dad are right.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t remember if I’ve ever used those words in a sentence…’ She smiled sadly. ‘The flat’s too small for all of us. In truth, he’s been keeping me awake too. It’s why I like coming here.’ She patted the bench.
Meg put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and was surprised when Emily rested hers on top.
‘You can come and visit him at mine anytime,’ Tom said. ‘Why don’t you get in the car before you both turn into snowmen?’
Emily nodded and picked up her guitar, following Meg as she climbed in the back and slid in beside Cooper, giving him a
hug which he joyously accepted, gifting her with a big sloppy kiss.
The cottage was warm but bare compared to Meg’s flat. She stood beside Emily in the sitting room, watching Tom light a fire while Cooper bounded around the room. They’d checked the back bedroom upstairs when they’d arrived and deemed it suitable for Blitzen’s holiday. It was quiet and warm, and Meg had left the bag of food on the dresser by the cage, promising to visit the following day. Tom had offered to check in on him regularly and to put fresh food and water out.
Meg took her time looking around the large sitting room. There were no Christmas decorations, which shouldn’t have surprised her, but somehow the blank walls made her feel sad. The empty bauble she’d given Tom the other night sat on the windowsill. She should have expected it, but was disappointed nonetheless. They were so different. Emily sank into one of the dark leather sofas, pulled her guitar out of its case and began to play a song off-key. Tom winced and his eyes darted towards the kitchen, before he let out a long exhale and held out a hand.
‘Something’s out of tune.’ Tom’s voice had changed, grown deeper – as if the mere act of being around music had altered his molecular state. Emily and Meg watched, transfixed, as he hooked the strap from the guitar around his shoulder and began to fiddle with the tuning pegs, flicking his fingers over the strings, testing the frets. His face changed as he worked, his eyes darkening and his body softening as he eased into the hold. Then, when he was obviously satisfied with the set-up, he began to play.
The music was fast and deep – his fingers caressed the strings, racing up and down like an Olympic athlete testing themselves. Agile and smooth, they flew across the guitar, eking out sounds that leapt through the air and caught Meg’s breath, ripping a riot of emotions from her. Sadness, loss, loneliness. There was nothing light here, no festivity or joyous escape. This music grated at your soul, picked and pulled, digging for pain and unhappiness before plucking it out and waving it like a trophy in front of your face. She felt tears spring to the corners of her eyes at the jumble of emotions, felt Emily shudder beside her as they watched, spellbound. Somehow the mere act of creation made him even more beautiful – but untouchable, as if the music had turned him into something unreal, something apart from the rest of humanity.
Then Tom suddenly stopped playing. His fingers jolted from the strings as if he’d been electrocuted. He looked up, taking in their expressions, his head angled sideways, filled with confusion and regret. He wrenched the strap over his head and handed the guitar to Emily, almost shoving it into her hands and stepping away. ‘I think that’s fixed it.’ His tone was light and utterly fake.
‘That was beautiful,’ Meg said, her voice husky as she watched him step away. He looked so unhappy, she wanted to reach out. ‘You’re amazing.’
‘You’re so talented.’ Emily studied his face. ‘Do you play much?’
Tom shrugged, looking away. ‘Not anymore. I’m hungry.’ He checked his watch, his movements still fitful. ‘Are you hungry?’ He glanced at Emily, avoiding Meg’s eyes.
‘I could eat.’ Her sister sounded disappointed.
Cooper wandered over to sniff at the guitar, fixing Emily with a dopey expression when she began to lightly stroke his head. ‘Can I take him for a walk first?’ She rose from the sofa, deliberately ignoring Cooper when he let out a grunt.
‘Sure.’ Tom tipped his head, the tightness around his mouth easing as he shook off the remainder of the man he’d been moments before. ‘He won’t want to go though.’ His jaw dropped as Emily walked to the front entrance and the dog followed, sitting patiently as she pulled on her boots and coat.
‘I think your sister might be related to the Pied Piper.’ Tom looked amazed when Emily opened the door and Cooper trailed behind her without complaint. When the door shut the room fell silent. ‘How about spaghetti bolognese?’ Tom asked, walking to the kitchen without looking back. Meg followed, and her eyes dropped from the stretch of the dark blue T-shirt across his back to the way his jeans sat against his bum and legs, remembering the looseness of his limbs when he’d been playing. He’d been hypnotic. How could one man do that and then morph into this? He looked uncomfortable in his own skin.
‘That really was something,’ Meg said, watching him. Something was tapping at the edges of her brain, a memory she couldn’t quite reach.
Tom shrugged and pulled the fridge open, gathering ingredients, putting the small breakfast bar between them. Meg hadn’t been to the cottage before so hadn’t seen the old room, but the grey cupboards and chrome hob and oven looked good. The worktops were dark oak and had been smoothed at the edges and then waxed. She could see a pile of tools in the corner of the room and a few cupboard doors propped up against the wall, which explained the gaps. Tom put the ingredients on the breakfast bar as Meg pulled up a stool and sat, watching as he grabbed a knife and chopping board. ‘Would you like a beer or some wine?’ He looked up, finally meeting her eyes. There was desperation in his expression.
‘What, no anti-Christmas cocktail?’ She gave him a small smile that said, I’m not going to ask what just happened, but I hope you’ll confide in me anyway.
He offered a tight smile in return, which didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I’m saving those for the pub. I have wine – red or white?’
‘Red, please. Can I help?’
He nodded and poured her a glass, popping a lid off a bottle of beer before sipping from it. Then he pulled out another chopping board and knife and slid them to her – along with a handful of mushrooms and carrots – keeping the counter as a barrier. Perhaps he was afraid she would leap over it and pin him to the ground to demand answers. He began to chop, and they lapsed into silence. Meg quickly washed her hands and then sliced the mushrooms before letting her eyes slide around the room. It was clean and sparse but it could be cosy. Her eyes shifted to the ceiling, to a small silver hook. It would be the perfect spot for a sprig of mistletoe or sparkly decoration.
‘Before I forget.’ Tom yanked one of the kitchen drawers open and got out a set of keys, putting them on the counter. ‘Feel free to pop in anytime to check on Blitzen. Even if I’m not around.’
‘Aren’t you afraid I’ll go through your cupboards, or check out your underwear drawer?’ she joked, peeling one of the carrots.
‘Will you?’ He quirked an eyebrow and gave her a rare smile. The first genuine one she’d seen from him since he’d picked up Emily’s guitar.
‘No promises. Santa often gets us elves to do recon when he’s not sure what to put into someone’s stocking.’ She cut the carrot into random shapes without looking at him.
He laughed as he finished chopping the onion and garlic, and pulled a pan out from under the counter before switching on the hob. ‘Is that so?’ He had his back to her and she admired him as he added the onions and garlic to the pan and began to stir. She sipped her wine, relaxing. ‘You can tell Santa I’ve got everything I need to be content.’ There was an edge in his voice, as though something was slightly off.
Meg glanced around the room. ‘You need decorations – it’s too bare. At least a tree in the sitting room.’
Tom grunted, and an idea began to form in Meg’s mind. A way to say thank you for having Blitzen. She had a spare Christmas tree at the shop and a selection of baubles that would be perfect. He might think he didn’t like Christmas, but no one hated decorations. Especially when someone else did all the work. She imagined his smile when he came home to find the house decked out, and grinned.
‘You got the veg?’ He turned and studied the carrots and mushrooms she’d chopped before raising his eyebrows. ‘Too challenging?’
She giggled. ‘I never learned to cook – and I’ve no natural inclination. Agnes has been showing me the basics and I’m getting good at jam. Chopping isn’t one of my talents.’ She pushed the board towards him.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Tom considered the shapes. ‘I can see a spaceship, that’s a guitar, and maybe… is that one of the windows from the Sistine Chapel
?’
‘Nope.’ Meg laughed. ‘That’s obviously a star.’ She pointed to a piece of carrot. ‘A Christmas tree and one of Rudolph’s antlers.’
‘Figures.’ Tom slid them into the pan. ‘I like how you find fun in the simplest things,’ he observed, as Meg hopped off her stool so she could watch as he added tomatoes, herbs and mince.
‘Thanks,’ she said, disarmed. ‘And thanks for inviting us over, and for having Blitzen to stay.’
He lifted a shoulder. ‘He can visit for as long as you like. At least while I’m here.’
‘You’re leaving?’ Meg sipped her wine, feeling oddly unsettled. Tom was wrong for her. But she had all these feelings she didn’t understand and she was drawn to him, despite their differences. Was that what had happened to her parents? Too many raging hormones disguising the fact that they weren’t really compatible? Was she going to make the same mistake? Was falling for the wrong person simply part of her DNA?
‘I don’t know yet.’ He stirred the pan with his back to her. ‘I’m thinking of staying but I haven’t fully decided. I’ve got feelers out for other jobs. There are charities looking for handymen in Devon and a friend’s renovating his garage. He lives in Whitby and he’s got a place I can stay.’
‘Isn’t it odd, not having a base?’ Meg’s smile dimmed as she thought about Lockton without Tom in it. He’d only been around for just over two weeks, but having him here felt right.
‘Sometimes.’ His expression clouded.
‘Are you avoiding something?’ Tom flinched. ‘I’m sorry, I’m prying. It’s just… The music, the way you held the guitar. You looked so natural, but you don’t play. That’s what you said. I suppose I don’t understand. If I was that good at something, I’d never want to stop.’ She let the words drift between them, and he let out a sigh and turned so he could look at her.
If Every Day Was Christmas: A gorgeous and heart-warming Christmas romance Page 11
