‘Well…I have one of these…’
I slowly extracted an item from the box, producing it with a final flourish, then watched their faces fall.
‘A loo roll. That’s not very exciting.’
‘Ah ha! But it will be when you see what we candowith this humble loo roll.’
I went on to produce tub after packet of Christmas crafting bits that I had collected over the years. Sequins, cotton wool, shiny paper, scraps of fabric, ribbons, plastic jewels, stickers, buttons, metallic pipe cleaners, tiny bells…It was a box of delights, and I loved getting it out each year to show my classes. Phina and Caspy’s expressions changed from disappointment to delight as I brought out each new treasure, and they laid them out reverently on the table, alongside an array of plain tubes and boxes, ready to be transformed. Soon we were making Father Christmases to add to the tree, and I had commanded the voice-activated speaker to play a selection of cheesy tunes. This is how Bunny found us when she popped in to make a cup of camomile tea.
‘Oh, look at you all, how marvellous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so lovely and festive. How on earth do you do it, Pixie? I think you’re terribly brave.’
I laughed.
‘Well, it is what I do for a living. I think you’re amazing producing those beautiful watercolours. How are they going?’
‘Very well, thanks to you. I do feel suchreliefthat I can get on with work and not worry about anything else.’
‘Mummy, look!’ said Seraphina, holding up her creation, which was dripping claggy bits of glue-soaked cotton wool on to the vinyl tablecloth I had thankfully remembered to put down.
‘Phina, that is absolutely perfect,’ said Bunny, and her daughter beamed. ‘I hope that once it’s dry it’s going on the tree?’
As they talked, I watched them, thinking how much I already loved these dear, funny children with their brightness and instinctive love of life. The familiar ache started to seep through me, for my own children, my own kitchen table, my own eclectic, beautiful Christmas tree. But before the tears could start to fill my eyes, I pushed the feeling down firmly. No. This wasn’t what I was doing anymore, hankering pointlessly after something that wasn’t meant for me, suffering needless pain when stoicism was what was required. After all, I should be happy and excited: my life was going to be all about adventure from now on. I forced myself to think about the images of India my parents had sent me – the colourful markets, hazy views of mountains, the sunsets, the primary school I might teach at, not so unlike an English one in many ways, except for the bare yard they had as a playground. My spirits lifted fractionally, and I nodded firmly.That’s better, Penny.
Soon, Bunny returned to her work and the three of us continued with ours. By lunchtime, we had produced a small army of Santas, some rather wonky pipe cleaner reindeer and some bejewelled boxes, perfect for putting small presents in. We had started studding oranges with cloves, but it hadn’t been as easy as the Instagram posts make it look, and we had been left with a mushy mess, no good for any Christmas tree but which scented the air beautifully, regardless of how they looked. Lunch was a quiet affair, just me, the children and, briefly, Bunny. The weather had turned grey and sleety while we were eating, and I had to turn the light on.
‘Right, it doesn’t look nice enough for us to go out this afternoon. You’ve worked hard this morning, but we can’t hang the decorations yet as they’re still drying. So…’
I widened my eyes at the twins, and they giggled in anticipation of what might be coming next.
‘So…how about we find a very Christmassy film to watch – and make some hot chocolate to have with it?’
They exploded into an excited clamour.
‘Oh, hot chocolate, Ilovehot chocolate! Can I have mine with marshmallows – and unicorn sprinkles like Cecil does?’
I remembered the spectacular drinks the landlord of The Curious Badger had produced and wondered what Pilar had in the cupboards that might compete.
‘Can we watch Frozen? Or Frozen 2? Or both?’
‘No, no, I don’t want to watch that again. I want to watch the one where the dog gets dognapped.’
‘Noooooo, that’s too scary. Oh Pixie,pleasecan we watch Frozen?’
I sat down on the sofa between them and drew them under my arms.
‘Let’s do one thing at a time, shall we? We’ll get the hot chocolate sorted first – I’m not sure I can manage a Cecil Special, but it will still be delicious. As for the film, maybe you’ll let me choose? I have something in mind that I think you’llbothlove.’
Fifteen minutes later, we were tucked up under soft fleecy blankets, sipping drinks that we had adorned with squirty cream and colourful hundreds and thousands, and starting a crowd-pleasing film about singing chipmunks. Even I liked this one and I sank into the arm of the sofa, feeling utterly content. That wasn’t to last. After about twenty minutes, the door opened, letting in a gust of chilly air, and in stalked Lando. He sat down on the chair next to me. I fought the instinct to stand to attention – Timothy would doubtless have had something caustic to say about my sloppiness – but smiled at him and was, to my surprise, rewarded with a smile in return.
‘You three look very snug there. What are you watching?’
‘It’s very cerebral, all-singing, all-dancing chipmunks. You’d love it.’
‘Hmm. Maybe. But for now, I have to work. I only came in to arrange a time with you for our first sitting. Would tonight after supper do? I’ve checked already with Bunny that she can free you up.’
There goes that excuse.
‘Yes, this evening is fine, although your father said he was having a friend over and invited me for drinks.’
