by Susan Lewis
Looking up at her, Hanna said, ‘You’re only going because it’s what Granny and Grandpa used to do, aren’t you?’
Lucy nodded, and smiled past the heavy emotions in her heart. ‘I feel I’d like to be close to them tonight,’ she admitted, ‘and I think going to church might do it.’
‘Mm, me too,’ Hanna agreed. ‘I’ll go and get my coat.’
The working clocks over in the sale barn were starting to chime midnight when Lucy, yawning and toasty warm again after freezing for an hour in church, picked up the phone to call Ben. At first she had a problem getting through, hearing his voice then being cut off, until eventually he was there crying cheerily down the line, ‘Can you hear me now?’
‘Yes, I can,’ she replied, registering the sound of surf and music in the background. ‘Happy Christmas.’
‘And to you.’
‘It sounds like you’re on the beach.’
‘Yeah, we are. The others are getting a barbie going. It’s so cool having Christmas in the middle of summer. Like really way out. What’s the weather doing over there?’
‘We’ve had snow, so everything’s looking very seasonal. Did you receive all your presents before you left New Zealand?’
‘Yeah, and I brought them with me. It was really great of you to send them. I’ll be opening them later, when everyone else opens theirs. How’s Hanna-Banana, is she in bed yet?’
‘No, she’s here waiting to wish you a happy Christmas. Have you spoken to Dad?’
‘No, but I will. I guess he’s at Uncle Charlie’s.’
‘I think so. Who’s at the party?’
‘You mean here? Oh, just the usual gang, but we met up with a couple of South Africans last night, so they’ve joined us. We’re thinking about making Cape Town our next stop, but we won’t decide till the new year, because … Oh hey, I didn’t tell you, did I? I’ve had the offer of a job for the next couple of months, crewing on a yacht. How cool does that sound? If it comes off I’ll stay here in Aus, because I so need to earn some money.’
Feeling as much pride as longing as she pictured him surrounded by friends and no doubt knocking back a beer or two, she said, ‘I’d definitely rather think of you in Australia than somewhere as dangerous as South Africa, but OK, that’s my last word on it. We really miss you, darling. Tomorrow’s not going to be the same without you, but it’s lovely to know you’re having a good time.’
‘I am, and sorry I didn’t send any presents. I’ll try to make up for it when I get back, but you know what it’s like, I need every penny.’
‘Don’t even think about it. Now here, I’ll pass you to Hanna. I’m sure she’ll tell you how she managed to drop the collection tray during Midnight Mass.’
‘Oh don’t,’ Hanna protested. ‘That was so embarrassing.’
Leaving her to talk to Ben, Lucy went quietly upstairs to find Michael still in the boys’ room, but fast asleep now, sitting up in a chair with a book on his lap. Shaking him gently awake, she put a finger over her lips and signalled for him to come with her. Once they were alone in her bedroom, she put her arms around him and snuggled in close.
‘How was church?’ he asked sleepily.
‘Cold, but the carols were nice and I think the vicar was pleased to see us.’
‘Surprised, more like,’ he teased. ‘So, did you get what you wanted out of it?’
‘I think so. Or let’s put it this way, I’m glad I went because I know it would mean a lot to them, and I didn’t want them to think they’d been forgotten.’
Tightening his embrace, he said, ‘That’s never going to happen.’
Loving how understanding he was, she inhaled the wonderfully warm, male scent of him, and kept her eyes closed as she fought back a surge of longing for Ben.
‘Time to start sorting out the stockings?’ he whispered.
Treating him to a saucy smile, she said, ‘I have some special ones for you.’
His eyes darkened with pleasure. ‘As long as I’m not the one who has to wear them,’ he murmured, ‘I can hardly wait.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
IT WAS JUST after five in the morning when Charlie, hair on end and pyjamas skewed, peeped round the bedroom door with Harry and Luke pressed in close behind.
‘Is he awake?’ Harry whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie whispered back.
‘We have to tell him Father Christmas has been,’ Luke insisted.
‘Ow, don’t push.’
‘You pushed me first.’
‘Did not.’
‘Did.’
‘Did not.’
‘Shut up or I’ll smash you.’
‘Come on then.’
Unable to stop herself laughing as Michael groaned, Lucy barely had a chance to disentangle herself before she was being buried under a pile of small boys raring for Christmas to begin.
By seven o’clock three stockings were open and breakfasts demolished, and they’d even been allowed a small present each from under the tree. Impatient now for their grandmother and Hanna to wake up, they began thundering up and down the stairs and singing carols at the tops of their voices. Eventually Evelyn emerged from her room wearing a red fleecy dressing gown and a Santa hat – and carrying three more stockings.
‘Not so fast,’ she cried, as she was set upon. ‘Father Christmas left these in my room by mistake, but they’re for Lucy, Hanna and Daddy.’
‘Can I take them down?’ Harry urged.
‘No, me.’
‘Me.’
‘One each,’ she agreed, and after handing them out she followed them down to the kitchen, where Lucy and Michael were locked in a lingeringly romantic embrace.
‘Ugh! They’re kissing,’ Harry protested.
‘That’s rude,’ Luke told them.
‘Mind your own business,’ Michael retorted, ‘and please don’t tell me you’ve got more presents to open.’
‘They’re for you,’ Charlie explained, and after dumping his on the table, the others followed suit with theirs and charged after him into the sitting room to wait impatiently in front of the tree.
Shaking his head in despair, Michael gave his mother a hug while Lucy poured her a coffee and put on some toast. ‘You know, I think I’m ready to open a present myself,’ she decided with a twinkle.
Michael’s eyebrows rose. ‘In which case, I shall go to fetch something from under the tree.’
Feeling certain he’d be back with the boys all eager for her to open a present from them first, she was surprised when he returned alone with a gift that was surely a book, and whose tag told her it was from him, with love.
Trying to remember which books she’d expressed an interest in, she carefully untied the ribbon before removing the wrapping paper, and when she realised what she was holding she experienced such a surge of emotion that her eyes instantly filled with tears.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered shakily. ‘I don’t believe it. How did you …? Is it a real book?’
Smiling, he said, ‘Open it up and see.’
For the moment, though, she couldn’t stop gazing at the title: Secret Stories, by Daphne Fisher. ‘How did you get them?’ she asked, finally opening the cover. Then, seeing the stories listed, she felt herself tumbling straight back through the years. The Scuffed Saucepan Lid Called Mike; Sue the Empty Salt Cellar; Bossy Boots and her Broken Zip; Two Leaves, a Twig and a Tortoise; Who’s Coming to Betty Table’s Party?; Three Wooden Penguins; Dolly Daydream and her New Record Player; The Princess’s Slippers. There had been many more, but these were the only ones Daphne had found the time to write down, and now here they were in this wonderfully unique little book. ‘I think this is the most special present I’ve ever had,’ she said huskily.
‘That would be apart from me,’ croaked a bleary-eyed Hanna as she came through the door. ‘Hey, everyone. Happy Christmas.’
‘Same to you,’ Lucy said, still gazing at her book. ‘Have you seen this?’ she asked.
Coming to ins
pect it, Hanna said, ‘I was the one who photocopied the stories so Michael could get them put on disc. It’s really cool, isn’t it? I never expected it to look as good as this.’
‘May I?’ Evelyn asked, holding out a hand.
Though she didn’t really want to let it go, Lucy made herself pass it over and turned to Michael again. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘I’m sure it goes without saying that I’ll treasure it, but I’m saying it anyway. I can’t imagine anything meaning more than this.’
‘Just you wait,’ Hanna told her. ‘I mean, OK, that is pretty fantastic, I have to admit, but there’s other stuff coming that I think you’re going to like.’
‘I’m sure she is,’ Michael agreed, watching Lucy going to look over his mother’s shoulder. ‘By the way, Hanna, I hope Santa didn’t wake you in the night.’
Hanna’s eyes narrowed as she glared at her mother. ‘Well, seeing as a certain person fell on me while she was delivering my stocking, I guess it’s pretty certain that Santa did wake me up.’
‘It was an accident,’ Lucy protested, ‘and your own fault for leaving whatever it was in the middle of the room.’
Laughing, Michael said, ‘Then let’s hope the presents you found in the stocking this morning made up for your broken night.’
‘Like ye-es,’ Hanna assured him. ‘I mean once I got past all the fruit and nuts and make-up and stuff … You know, I only nearly missed it,’ she informed her mother.
‘What was it?’ Evelyn wanted to know.
Hanna beamed at Lucy. ‘An iPhone,’ she answered ecstatically. ‘Thanks, Mum. It’s exactly what I wanted.’
‘Really?’ Lucy said in mock amazement. ‘How lucky I got it right.’
Flipping her arm, Hanna went to pour herself some juice, while Lucy carefully rewrapped her book and put it high up on the dresser.
‘You know, I’m never too sure whether this thing’s in a bad mood, or if it’s feeling abundantly generous,’ she commented, as the toaster flung out two slices of crisply golden bread.
‘You’re so weird,’ Hanna informed her.
Chuckling, Evelyn said, ‘What time is everyone coming this morning? I am right in thinking that the first official present-opening session is happening here, am I?’
‘You are,’ Lucy confirmed, glancing at the clock, ‘and it’s due to begin at ten thirty, so we’ve still got time to shower and dress.’
Looking a little anxious, Evelyn said, ‘I’m not sure the boys will be able to hold out till ten thirty.’
‘They’ll have to,’ Michael said strictly.
‘Oh no,’ Lucy disagreed. ‘There’s no reason why they shouldn’t open at least a couple more each before everyone arrives.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Hanna cheered. ‘They’re so cute and I love it when they get excited.’
Looking at her as though she must have already OD’d on Christmas spirit, Michael said, ‘Then I’ll go and break the good news. Just don’t forget that I haven’t had a present yet – not that I’m complaining, you understand, I simply thought I ought to point it out in case someone had forgotten.’
Laughing as Evelyn played an air violin, Lucy said, ‘You’ve done very well for stockings, I believe, and there’s another there from your mother that should fit nicely.’
Trying not to laugh as he scooped it up, he carried it off to the sitting room, where they found him a few minutes later buffing his nails with one of the simpler-to-identify items from his stocking, while the boys waited with bated breath for something magic to fly off his fingers.
With the turkey now tastily strapped, stuffed, seasoned and basking in the glow of a medium hot oven, Sarah tucked the tea towel back on the rail and went to make yet another inspection of the immaculately set refectory table that ran almost the entire length of her exquisite barn conversion. The minute the table had been brought in for auction last month she’d snapped it up, knowing they were going to need every inch of it for today since there were so many of them, but in the new year it would return to the saleroom ready to continue its journey.
It gave her such a thrill to see how beautifully matched everything was on the table, from the cloth, to the crackers, to the napkins, to the chargers, even the wine glass stems and cutlery handles blended perfectly. What a fabulous time she’d had in Paris with Jean-Marc choosing it all, sailing about the most expensive stores, unable to believe how easy it was to be there when she’d dreaded it so much. Though she hadn’t actually run into Kelvin and Margot, she had, amazingly, spotted them in Printemps, and the fact that they’d seemed to be bickering had afforded her a certain satisfaction. Better still was the fact that Margot, oddly, hadn’t appeared as stunning as she remembered, and Kelvin had definitely put on weight. Heaven only knew where the baby was, because there had been no sign of him, and for that, she had to admit, she was grateful.
Perhaps the best part of being in Paris, however, apart from the way Jean-Marc had made her feel so cherished, was spending time with Simon and Giselle, who, she happened to know, had their own special surprise for everyone today. It had also been wonderfully gratifying to discover how much she’d looked forward to returning to Cromstone when the weekend was over. It was where she belonged again, she’d realised happily, the way she always had while growing up – and since her mother and John had decided to make the manor their home the relief she’d felt at having the burden of its restoration lifted from her shoulders could almost have made her float.
And now, here she was, in her very own home with a part share in a business she’d quickly grown to love – and even to show a little knack for – and with a man she was actually daring to trust. It was amazing to think of how her life had turned around, and to realise how much more courageous she was feeling now. She had Lucy to thank for so much, including how much easier she was finding it to talk about Jack. Lucy wanted to know all about him, and loved looking at his photos. She even cried with her when the grief and longing became too hard to bear. By now he’d have been the same age as Michael’s middle son, and though Sarah wouldn’t have dreamed of spoiling the day by mentioning it, knowing that Lucy understood and had even checked to ensure she didn’t mind about the boys coming today was making her feel particularly welcoming towards them.
‘Aha, here I am,’ Jean-Marc announced from the mezzanine. ‘I think you are looking for me, non?’
Laughing, because she had just started to wonder where he was, Sarah said, ‘We need to go over to the farmhouse now. It’s surprise time.’
His expression turned grave as he said, ‘Me, I am not always sure that surprises are good, but today, with what I know …’ He stopped as he reflected some more. ‘There are other things that I still do not know,’ he said, ‘so maybe I remain worried.’
‘With the wonderful paintings you’re giving to the girls, I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.’
‘Ah, non, c’est vrai,’ he agreed. ‘They are going to love their paintings, this is for certain. But they are for later. What I am asking myself, ma belle, is whether you are going to love what I have for you?’
By the time everyone started pouring into the farmhouse there was so much noise coming from so many quarters that it took John some time to track it all down to an iPod blaring through new speakers, a computer game turned up to full volume, several TVs being ignored, and a xylophone and a new set of drums helping to form the next boy band.
However, he soon had everyone congregated in the sitting room ready to begin the surprises, and because Simon and Giselle had asked to go first, he handed the floor straight to them.
‘We have some things for you all to unwrap later,’ Giselle told them, as Simon came to put an arm around her, ‘but now we are very ’appy to tell you that we are expecting a baby.’
As everyone whooped and cheered and a delighted John swooped in to embrace them, Rose’s eyes went straight to Sarah. When she realised that this wasn’t news to her youngest daughter, she went to her son and thanked him for his se
nsitivity in not springing this on his sister in public. Then Michael, having been tipped off by Simon, was popping open a bottle of Moët while Lucy fetched the glasses – plus some orange juice for the mother-to-be.
‘It is perhaps my turn now,’ Jean-Marc declared, as the excitement started to die down. ‘I must do this quickly,’ he went on, almost collapsing on to one knee, ‘because I am very nervous. Sarah, ma belle, please do not leave me on the floor like a piece of lettuce, say you will accept to be my muse from this time on.’
Laughing, and adoring him, Sarah fell to her knees in front of him and didn’t even notice the diamond he’d almost forgotten to fumble from his pocket, until Giselle tapped her shoulder and pointed it out. ‘Oh my God!’ Sarah gasped, pressing her hands to her cheeks. ‘Is that for me?’
‘I hope she is welcome,’ he replied, taking the sparkling solitaire out of the box. ‘She is symbol of my feelings for you, and you can accept her on the finger you choose.’
Blushing furiously, Sarah glanced at her mother, then Lucy, who were smiling all over their faces.
‘Left,’ Lucy mouthed.
Sarah laughed, and tentatively offered her left hand.
Beaming with relief, Jean-Marc slipped the ring on to her third finger and swept her into his arms as everyone cheered ecstatically and more champagne was poured.
Deciding it was time for the boys to open another present each now, Lucy clapped for attention, and everyone watched and oohed as Charlie shyly opened a new pair of Nike trainers, while Harry and Luke wasted no time in tearing apart the wrapping to get to new baseball bats and mitts.
‘Mum next, Mum next,’ Hanna insisted with a hiccup.
‘Actually, you next,’ John told her after getting the nod from Rose.
Hanna’s eyes rounded. ‘There’s one for me?’ she said, with such touching amazement that Lucy could be in no doubt that she and Sarah had pulled off the surprise spectacularly.
‘Yes, you,’ John assured her, and turning towards the door he gave a little whistle.
‘Are you playing my tune?’ Pippa asked, popping her head round the door.
