HENRY
Christmas Day arrivedwith the excitement of small children and the tiredness of adults awoken too early. I’d expected the clients to have taken the morning at a much more restrained pace, and I was pleasantly surprised by the sheer chaos that surrounded me.
But the real difference was Amanda. Everything about her had become more relaxed. The easy way she encouraged the children at breakfast, and the quiet confidence with which she corralled everyone through their perfect Christmas Day. It was like her sharp edges had rounded off just a touch. Not enough that she wasn’t still the same brisk, efficient woman, but enough that she wasn’t terrifying to approach.
Pru leant against the wall beside me and nudged me with an elbow. ‘I don’t know what you did to her, but whatever it was, keep it up.’
‘Who said I did anything?’
She levelled me with a stare. ‘The manor walls might be thick, but they’re not soundproof.’
Fuck.
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s alright, Henry, we all do it.’
Well, what do you say to that? Pru had to be nearing retirement, so good for her. I had zero interest in imagining her tied up in ribbons and dripped with candle wax.
I turned my thoughts back to Amanda, who I could see in the vast sitting room by one of the trees. She slipped the little Petersen boy a second candy cane before tapping a finger against her lips when he widened his eyes. Then she made her way to the coffee machine, pouring tall drinks in glasses, and topping them off with a splash of Harris whisky. Nothing but the finest pick me up for the flagging adults.
I made my way down to her and relished in the naughty smile she gave.
‘Winter warmer?’ she asked. I gladly accepted the fire-laden coffee.
‘You’re supposed to be the sensible one,’ I said as I traced her spine with my spare hand, letting my fingertips follow the bumps upwards before skirting back down. The contact was light, but she leaned into my touch.
‘It’s Christmas, I’m allowed to be naughty on one day a year.’
‘Only one?’
She didn’t turn toward me, but I saw a smile tug the corner of her lips.
‘I suppose I could allow for bank holidays, too.’
Those damned lips beckoned, and I couldn’t resist stealing the briefest kiss when she looked up at me. A tiny whisper of a kiss, just enough to tide me over until I could steal her away from everyone.
Later, with the family occupied by presents and charades, we slipped into the kitchen to have a mini-celebration with the rest of the staff, both hired in and the regulars like Pru and I.
An impressive spread covered the kitchen island; the chef had made a bit extra of everything he’d served at the family’s meal and laid it out for us. Prawn cocktail, with the fattest, pinkest prawns I’d seen. Crab legs and lobster tail. Then there was the traditional feast, turkey surrounded by pigs in blankets and crispy roast potatoes. Caramelised carrots and the inevitable bowl of Brussels sprouts. Cheeses of just about every variety and enough crackers to rebuild Hadrian’s wall. Pru poured mulled wine with very little regard for the fact that we were still at work. The tinny speaker in the corner filled the kitchen with the cheesiest of Christmas tunes.
Lisa from next door slipped in not long after we filled our plates. Her shoulders curled inwards as if trying to make herself smaller than her willowy frame allowed. Her blonde hair was loosely braided on one shoulder, and she quietly stood in one corner, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, as if hoping to observe without being observed.
Amanda drifted to stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder, both of them contemplating a platter of the bacon-wrapped sausages. Lisa relaxed at Amanda’s quiet proximity, just enough that her fingers emerged and wrapped around a steaming mug of mulled wine. A small shift, but one that brought warmth to my chest. I liked Lisa, but she was very much wrapped in layers of armour. A bit like Amanda had been. But her armour wasn’t spiked, it was camouflage, shrinking herself back from the world to her aunt and her bees.
But Amanda had seen through her armour, and I found myself admiring her for it.
By late afternoon, the living room had erupted into a lively, nd very boozy party. The children were out with Pru, feedingMerv his Christmas dinner and brushing him within an inch of his life. Rita was still gushing over a most ridiculously large pom-pommed hat that hat daughter had bought at the market. It bobbed back and forth as she danced with her daughters-in-law to Wizard.
And in the middle of it all, Amanda laughed as Rita pulled her into their giggling ring and demanded she dance with them.
Staring was bad form, but I couldn’t help myself. She was like the sweetest flower, drawing me like a pollinating bee.
By the time the Petersens settled into post-party drowsiness, Amanda and I slipped to one of the snugs and collapsed onto the sofa in front of the fire I’d built. She curled her legs beneath her and rested her head against the back of the couch, letting out a happy sigh.
‘I don’t remember the last time I was this tired.’
I reached out, pulled her feet into my lap, and rubbed my thumbs into their socked arches.
