‘I don’t know. Bit scared I guess.’ Although there was some comfort in not knowing. When she didn’t know, she didn’t have any decisions to make or anything to tell anyone – ignorance really was bliss.
Lottie tipped her head towards the door. ‘No time like the present.’
Emily ran her bottom lip through her teeth. Perhaps she had put it off long enough.
‘Time to decorate the tree!’ hollered Jessie, running in and grabbing their attention. Jessie took Emily by the hand and she saw another opportunity to put off the inevitable for a little while longer.
Everyone was gathering in the drawing room to decorate the Christmas tree. Other decorations were up and scattered throughout the house, but the tree was always done on Christmas Eve. They formed a human chain and boxes and boxes of decorations were passed down from upstairs until they were all set on the floor in front of the large windows that dominated the main room, along with their lush gold drapes. Uncle Daniel was standing on a chair rearranging the lights and tutting to himself. Zach flicked the switch on the socket. The lights in Daniel’s hand lit up and he nearly fell off with the shock.
‘Bloody hell!’ he shouted, wobbling violently and grabbing the tree for support.
‘Nooo!’ shouted Lottie, having visions of the whole lot going over. Uncle Daniel stabilised and returned to adjusting and tutting. Jessie skidded across the room and managed to halt her stockinged feet just short of the tree.She was grinning broadly. Lottie remembered being that age and brimming over with the excitement of it all. She loved witnessing Jessie’s enjoyment of Christmas. She didn’t see her niece as much as she’d like, as Zach didn’t live nearby. Time with Jessie always had an odd effect on Lottie – she enjoyed every minute, but each of those minutes was a stab in her heart that she herself didn’t have a child.
‘Come on, Button. Let’s get cracking,’ said Uncle Bernie, dragging her from her thoughts. Lottie took the lids off all the decoration boxes. This was Nana’s prized collection, which she had lovingly added to over many years – she’d had a story about every bauble. Lottie wished now that she had taken the time to write the stories down because already, she was staring at an ornate peacock-patterned decoration and struggling to recall the tale that went with it.
‘Okay, choose a box,’ said Lottie, refocusing her mind on totting up how many they had. They were one box short. ‘Mum, can you and Scott share a box?’
‘Of course,’ said her mother. ‘As long as I get first pick.’ Her mother studied the boxes and chose the one with the big glass baubles.
‘You next,’ said Lottie to Jessie, who went for the animal-themed decorations as Lottie knew she would. ‘Okay, help yourselves.’ She ushered Emily forwards: she seemed somewhat bemused by the process. Sometimes family traditions that made perfect sense to you were baffling to anyone else.
Lottie had the odds and sods box – baubles which had no real theme or dominant colour, but were pretty just the same. She breathed in the smell of the fresh pine tree. The smell transported her back to all those otherChristmases where she had done this exact same thing. She loved having a real tree, and this one was a beauty.
Everyone took the task seriously and found the perfect spot for their selection of baubles. They each took their time, apart from Jessie who had rushed to put all her animals around the lowest branches.
When they’d all finished moving and adjusting, they stood back to admire their handiwork. Lottie carefully unwrapped an ornate star.
‘This star, Nana bought in Norway in 1978. It was the first Christmas decoration she bought for her new home, here at Henbourne Manor,’ said Lottie. She addressed Emily and Scott, who were new to this, and thankfully were standing near each other. ‘We have a family tradition that the youngest person always puts the star on the top of the tree. We’ve all taken our turn,’ she said, looking at Zach and Rhys.
‘Some people did it more years than others,’ mumbled Zach loud enough for Lottie to hear. He’d never really forgiven her for only being two years younger than him.
‘Hey, we mostly alternated until Rhys came along,’ said Lottie. ‘Here you go, Jessie.’ She reverently handed her the sparkly star and Jessie took it, her tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration. Zach lifted his daughter up and she tried to secure it on the top of the tree, but each time the weight of it made the top sway precariously.
‘Too heavy,’ said Zach.
‘What happens now?’ asked Jessie, handing the star to her father.
‘We have a backup plan from when this happened a few years ago,’ explained Lottie, returning the star to the box and getting out the stand-in.
‘Whoa, what’s that?’ asked Scott.
Lottie felt defensive. ‘It’s our Christmas angel.’ She passed the doll to Zach.
‘Looks like vintage Barbie,’ said Scott with a chuckle.
So does my mother, thought Lottie. Zach and Jessie placed the angel on the top of the tree. The doll’s alarmed expression was perfect, given she had a Christmas tree shoved up her nether regions. Lottie glanced at Emily, who blinked away a confused look and swapped it for an encouraging one. Lottie knew the scrawny doll looked a bit weird, but it was their angel; and maybe this Christmas she was who they needed to watch over them. Lottie started a little round of applause and everyone joined in. She stood and looked at the tree for a moment. It was beautiful; the fairy lights twinkled rhythmically, making each bauble sparkle, each of them one of Nana’s special memories, there for them to share. Lottie’s eyes danced from one ornament to the next: the drummer boy Nana said reminded her of Zach; the puppy with a stocking in its mouth she’d known Jessie would love; a glass spiral she’d paid a fortune for but had to have; a hand-painted bauble she’d bartered for at the local Christmas fayre.
The lights suddenly went out. Lottie gasped.
Zach’s head popped up from behind the tree. ‘We’re going out, and this is a fire hazard.’ How to break the spell, thought Lottie.
Chapter Nine
Joe flicked through the TV channels and tried to ignore the little dog whimpering at the door. Everything on television was sentimental, or soap operas with long complicated stories that were now building to a dramatic festive climax, but were lost on anyone just tuning in. He sighed and switched it off. Being on your own on Christmas Eve sucked. Why he’d thought now was a good time to return to cold, wet Britain, he couldn’t think. He’d been spontaneous and rash. Right now, he could have been in Florida at a friend’s place enjoying sunshine and a cold beer. He’d been watching the updates on Facebook with increasing envy.
He was also bothered by the fact that things hadn’t gone as he’d hoped with Lottie. He hadn’t expected her to welcome him back with open arms – far from it. But he had hoped she’d react in some way. Of all the scenarios he’d run through in his head, her emotionless expression was not what he’d envisioned. He had thought at the very least she would have been shouting and throwing things at him –anythingto show that she felt something, even if it was anger. But her complete lack of emotion told him all he needed to know. He was someone from her past,and he had the distinct feeling he should have stayed there.
The dog barked at him and it brought him back from his troubled thoughts. looked at the clock: a long evening stretched in front of him. And after that, the whole of Christmas. The scruffy little dog made eye contact and wagged his tail. Joe knew the dog wanted to go out, but he couldn’t walk him without a collar and lead. Joe gave the dog a scratch round his ears. He was a sweet little chap, but sadly nobody had been in touch to claim him or register him as missing.
