‘Yes, because no-one’s eaten anything for at least an hour,’ Patrick said.
‘You have to over-eat on Christmas Day.’
‘Uncle James. How many?’ Daisy had her head tilted to one side. James had a sudden rush of memory of Laura looking at him that way, which naturally led him to think of Cassie. He didn’t want to think about Cassie. He pondered the question. He had no idea. Giraffes’ necks were definitely very long.
‘Maybe about a hundred?’ he said.
‘No!’ Daisy was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Seven. Lots of mammals have seven neck bones. Humans. Mice. Whales. Platypuses.’
‘Wow. That’s genuinely interesting and it’s also some seriously good knowledge for someone who’s just turned nine,’ James told her, his heart swelling with, what was that, extreme fondness? Love?
It was love. He did love his nieces. He loved them a lot. Could he love a child of his own?
Maybe. Definitely. But could he look after it satisfactorily, love itenough? Well, yes, he could definitely love it enough. But could he love itright? Probably not. He’d have no idea how to be a father.
He needed to stop thinking about Cassie.
‘Do you want some more giraffe facts?’ Daisy asked.
‘I certainly do.’ And he really did. Just to watch the way she chortled when she caught him out.
‘Thank you so much for reading the kids a story. The perfect Christmas present for tired parents,’ Ella said, handing James a glass of pink champagne as he came back into the room after a riotous bedtime.
Patrick’s brother and family were also staying, and they had three lively children, all under ten. Five kids in one bedroom didn’t seem like a recipe for a lot of sleep but it did seem like they were going to have a lot of fun tonight as long as their parents turned a blind eye.
‘Time to celebrate them all being inbed, and some peace and quiet.’ Ella took a sip of her own drink.
It had certainly been a noisy day. Strangely, James hadn’t minded the noise and chaos. In fact, he’d enjoyed it.
‘Not a problem. I’m actually feeling very smug at the moment. Lottie has some seriously impressive Harry Potter knowledge. And apparently I’m outstandingly talented at doing different Harry Pottercharacters’ voices.’ He’d genuinely enjoyed it. Who’d have thought? ‘What about a Christmas game of poker?’
A couple of hours on, they all pushed matchsticks towards Ella while she sucked her cheeks in the way she always had when they were kids and she’d beaten James at something and was trying to look nonchalant.
‘You’ve beenpractising,’ he said.
Ella stopped sucking her cheeks and laughed out loud. ‘Yes I have. Poker’s very addictive. Also, I’m never going to let my little brother beat me.’
James shook his head. ‘So ridiculously competitive.’
‘Said the most competitive man ever.’ Ella shook her head right back at him and they both laughed. ‘Hot chocolate before bed, everyone?’
‘And a couple more hands of poker?’ James said.
A good hour later, everyone downed cards and matchsticks after the others begged Ella and James for mercy, and Patrick went off to make the hot chocolates.
Watching the fire’s embers wane, lazily enjoying the others’ conversation, James reflected that this was the best Christmas he could remember. Probably the best of his life. Last year, he’d spent Christmas skiing with a group of single friends, who he wasn’t even that close to, basically to avoid Ella and his thoughts in the aftermath of their mother’s death; and he’d spent New Year at a party with Emily and a group of near-strangers.
This year he was here for Christmas and he’d agreed to go to Matt and Becca’s for New Year’s Eve. Both immeasurably better. And he wouldn’t be with Ella now if he hadn’t done the house swap and met Cassie.
He wondered what she was doing for Christmas. Knowing her, she’d probably have made special Christmas food for the alpacas and chickens, and be spending the entire festive period surrounded by family and friends in person and online. He’d love to hear her Christmas stories. He’d love to hear her voice. He’d love to tell her about his own Christmas. He’d love to call her full stop. Probably better not, though.
Twenty-Eight
Cassie
Cassie picked her phone up and looked at it. Then she put it down and looked out of the window at the white-blanketed garden. The first massive snow dump of the season was always breathtaking. Every year, she was stunned anew by its beautiful, sparkly smoothness. And next year, all being well, she’d have a baby to introduce to snow. A baby who she’d seen on her twelve-week scan yesterday. A baby whose father deserved to know about its existence.
She picked up her phone again.
