‘She’s in her element in there.’
‘You could be right.’ He clinked his open can of drink against hers. ‘I took her to see the Christmas lights, you know.’
‘She mentioned it; she told me how she often took you boys when you were little.’
‘We loved it, every year we went. Until it stopped.’
‘Whistlestop River puts on a good display.’ Bess didn’t want him to dwell on any unhappy times. Not right now. ‘It looks even better from high up in the sky. Flying at night is different, prettierlooking down at the town all lit up and when it’s Christmas time, it’s brilliant. All those lights, shapes and patterns are insane – makes it a little difficult to identify the flashing blue lights at an emergency scene sometimes, though.’
‘I’ll bet it does.’
She set down her can: time to finish the tree. ‘You can sit a while longer.’
‘No need.’
She began to hang the first of the baubles. ‘It must be hard to sit back and watch when you’re injured.’
‘It’s a few Christmas decorations, Bess. Don’t write me off yet.’ He was up again and they were so close, she thought for a moment he might tip his head down and kiss her. A couple of months ago, she would’ve freaked out at the prospect, and perhaps she still should, but she wasn’t.
As they continued to hang ornaments, their fingers collided between branches. As they reached for different sections to ensure the decorations were evenly spread, their bodies danced around each other.
But he must’ve overdone it, not rested his leg long enough, because after he put the star at the top of the tree, he lost his footing and stumbled to his right, catching the pile of papers beneath an artificial pot plant. She’d started to go through the collection of bills and demands earlier when Marianne was cleaning but had been waylaid by the postman delivering a parcel, then by a cold-call telemarketer, then she’d been interrupted when Marianne came downstairs for some bleach, and in the end, she’d shuffled them all out of the way again, ready to look at before dinner. She’d planned to hide them in her bedroom after that, but she’d never got the chance what with dinner prep and going out to buy a tree.
‘In case you hadn’t noticed,’ he said, ‘I’ve become a bit of aklutz. Wasn’t this way at work; think they’d have fired me long ago if I was.’ He was trying to bend down but Bess moved to get in there first, scrabbling to get the pieces of paper that had scattered. She hoped he hadn’t seen the red wordsfinal demandor any of the wording about court threats or debt collectors.
But when she pushed the paper edges together into a neat pile and put them back where they were, she knew he’d seen something. Although what probably gave it away were her flushed cheeks, her anxiousness to hide the papers as quickly as possible. She didn’t exactly have much of a poker face.
‘Everything all right?’ His deep tone, gentle enough to give off sympathy, or pity, almost undid her.
‘Everything is fine.’
And when Marianne came in to help, they laughed, they talked, but the mood had partly died and it was almost a relief when Gio left.
‘Cup of tea?’ Bess offered Marianne as soon as his taxi departed from the kerb.
‘Definitely.’
Bess put the kettle on and as it came to the boil, she pulled a box of doughnuts she’d picked up from town after shift finished from the very back of the food cupboard. ‘Dessert.’ She flipped up the lid to reveal the mouth-watering, festive, glazed doughnuts, each with a Rudolph face on them. She’d forgotten all about them until now.
‘I won’t say no.’ Marianne grinned.
Neither of them needed to share their life story. Not right now. For the moment, this was enough, and Bess had a feeling that both of them needed this new living arrangement, more than either of them had realised.
17
The highlight of his Christmas had to be seeing Bess unexpectedly last night. He’d thought he was dropping over his mum’s phone; he hadn’t expected to be invited in. And he’d never expected to be decorating a tree with Bess, getting so close, he’d brushed against her – not on purpose, and she’d got just as close to him – hopefully intentionally if he was honest – more than once. It was a shame the evening hit a sour note when he knocked the paperwork off the side. It was none of his business but he wasn’t stupid; he’d seen more than a few bills and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. That had to be why she needed a lodger. Good for her, getting herself out of a tight situation. He only hoped it wouldn’t affect his mother, although he didn’t see how it could. Perhaps he was worrying unnecessarily.
Now, on Christmas Day, he put the potatoes into the oven on the shelf below what – even if he did say so himself – was a beautifully browning turkey.
He called Marco over FaceTime while their mum was out for a stroll around the block so he could get a wordin before she joined. But first, Billy and Matilda wanted to tell him all about Father Christmas and what he’d brought them this year.
After Gio had had the full run-down of presents, Billy’s face came a little closer on the screen. ‘Do you have an apron on, Uncle Gio?’
Matilda giggled behind her brother.
But they lost interest quickly enough and ran off to play with their toys which were far more appealing than adult conversation.
‘You’re taking charge of dinner,’ Marco chipped in. ‘Not surprised.’
