“It wasn’t just the gifts,” Vic said, her voice low. “It was… everything. The shouting. The money worries. The drinking. Every year. Every single year. Either we had nothing and the whole big house felt… empty and cold… or when thingsgot a bit better he went the other way and tried to make a show of it. Flashy presents we couldn’t afford, food for ten people when there were three of us, and then a screaming match in the kitchen about the credit card bill- trying to keep up with the very wealthy families.”
Julia’s hand stilled.
“We had one tree,” Vic continued, staring at the flames. “This sad massive artificial thing that lost more plastic needles every year. He’d swear at it while trying to get the lights to work. My mum would cry in the bathroom. I’d pretend not to hear.” She let out a shaky breath. “I used to think… if I could just get the lights untangled without anyone shouting, that would be enough.”
“Vic,” Julia whispered.
“And I swore,” Vic went on, the words coming faster now that she’d started, “I swore thatone dayI would have Christmas somewhere people weren’t fighting. With food that didn’t come from a yellow sticker shelf. With lights that worked, and a tree that didn’t look like it was dying, and people who weren’t on the verge of throwing plates at each other. I swore it would be perfect. Like in the films.”
She made a small, helpless gesture with one hand.
“And now I’m stood in a literal castle,” she said thickly. “With the Queen as my best friend. With my incredible wife. With a daughter who is frighteningly competent. And dogs and staff and a massive budget and a tree you could see from space. And the turkey’s gone on strike and the power’s flirting with us and my centrepiece has just imploded and I?—”
Her voice cracked.
Julia moved closer, their shoulders fully pressed together now. “And you feel like you’ve failed,” she finished gently.
Vic nodded, tears spilling over again. “Just once,” she whispered. “Just once I wanted to get it right.”
Julia was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft and steady.
“Love. Look at me.”
Vic resisted. Julia waited. Eventually, Vic dragged her gaze away from the fire and met her wife’s eyes.
“No one here,” Julia said clearly, “wants perfect.”
Vic opened her mouth to argue. Julia touched her lips lightly with two fingers.
“No,” she said. “Listen. No one. Not Alex. Not Erin. Not the kids. Not me. We did not come up here thinking, ‘God, I hope Victoria achieves optimal festive performance metrics.’”
Vic snorted wetly despite herself. “That sounds like something you’d say in a meeting.”
“Maybe I prepared it earlier,” Julia said. “The point is — we came here because we wanted to be together. To have time. To breathe. After a hellish few years, if we’re honest.”
“It feels… selfish,” Vic said in a small voice. “After everything Alex and Erin have been through. All the public stuff. The protests. The losses. The threats. If this Christmas goes wrong, it’ll feel like we let them down.”
“Nothing about this is selfish,” Julia said firmly. “And nothing about this has ‘gone wrong.’ There has been… turbulence. Yes. Weather. Poultry insubordination. Overexcited dogs. But not failure.”
Vic laughed weakly. “Poultry insubordination.”
“I’m trying to speak your language,” Julia said.
She reached up and brushed a thumb under Vic’s eye, catching a tear. “Alex,” she went on, “is in there decorating biscuits with her children. Erin is smiling for the first time in weeks. Hyz is thrilled because she gets to test the tensilestrength of gingerbread. The triplets think snow is a miracle invented just for them. None of them care about centrepieces. They care about the fact you put all this together so they could be here. Together. Safe. Happy.”
Vic’s breath hitched. “You really think they’re happy?”
“I know they are,” Julia said. “I sat with Alex earlier while you were interrogating the generator. She told me she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Erin look this relaxed. Real reindeer. Dogs. Kids sticky with sugar. This is her idea of heaven.”
“I thought her idea of heaven was a functioning parliament,” Vic muttered.
“That’s her idea of a functioning democracy,” Julia said. “Different thing.”
Vic let out a long, shuddering breath.
“You don’t have to earn your place here by orchestrating a flawless Christmas,” Julia said softly. “You already earned it. Years ago. When you stood by Alexandra through everything. When you stayed up with her in hospital corridors and on palace floors and on tour planes. When you made her laugh when the tabloids tried to flay her alive. When you loved her without conditions.”
Vic’s throat tightened. “She changed my life,” she whispered.
