“I know you could if you had to,” he said. “But you don’t have to. And maybe I want to.”
“Why are you so… caring? When we first met I thought you were the biggest idiot I’d ever come across. In fact, I wished upon you the pox and penile dysfunction. Now I’m not sure you’re the same man whose builders I stole,” she said. “And I definitely don’t want the penile dysfunction to happen.”
“Things worked out okay,” he said. She was dressed for the cold, a woolly hat on her head and Gran’s knitted scarf draped over the top half of her body. Skinny jeans were hidden to the knee with tall brown boots, flat for walking in and her cheeks and nose were pinked with the cold. “More than okay. For me anyway.”
“For me too,” she said. “You’ve been amazing. Getting me the tree, helping this afternoon when I know you haven’t had a minute to yourself in days. I feel really bad for taking up your time.”
He shook his head and smiled, pausing in the snow on the bridge above the river. “You don’t get it, do you, Ells?” he said.
“Get what?” she said, frowning. “I know I’m a therapist but I’m not a mind reader.”
“I really like you,” he said, realising he was going to have to spell it out for her. “And I feel like I’m a dorky seventeen-year-old telling you this, but I think you’re great and I’d do anything to spend more time with you.” He wanted to tell her that he thought her ex was a complete fuckwit for ending things with her, but right now he didn’t want her thinking anything about her ex, just him.
“You do?” she said. “Even though…”
“Even though what, Sorrell?” he said gently.
Carols flew through the air, sung by a choir across the bridge. A child laughed. A seemingly single snowflake danced down between them.
“Even though I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence because he knew she was finally seeing what he saw. “But you’re this Adonis round here. You could have any woman who came through…”
“Please don’t let Jake ever hear you say those words,” Zack said. “You’d have to spend the rest of the evening therapizing him.”
She laughed, a sound that was becoming his favourite. “I’m not even sure that’s actually a word.”
“It possibly isn’t. We need to head towards the clock tower; it’s almost time.”
Pretty much every resident in Severton was there, surrounding the clock tower where the Christmas tree that had first been felled then planted nearly fifty years ago stood proudly. Its lights were haphazardly placed, mixtures of white and colours when they were switched on having been added by well-meaning donators across the years. The rest of the high street always had white lights which zig-zagged from one side to the other, pictures of Santa, reindeer, trees and snowflakes outlined in a thousand lights.
The streets around them fell dark. Children gasped and the town slipped into a sweet apprehensive silence. Then, as if they really had been rehearsing for the last two months, the Severton band started to chime, softly at first, a simple, gentle ringing of bells and then the choir began, voices singing theCarol of the Bells.
No one spoke. The soprano voices were answered by the lower tones of the men filling the air along with the bells. As they sang the lights furthest away from the clock tower began to slowly brighten, then the next line and the next, until the three streets that led to the clock tower and the square were fully lit and then the tree and the clock tower both began to brighten from the ground upwards, the sounds of children exclaiming and Sadie Grace’s little voice just about audible over the still singing choir.“Santa’s coming! It’s magic!”
Then the music changed, the carol changing toSanta Claus is Coming to Townand the crowd became noisier.
“Wow,” said Sorrell. “That was like no other lights switch on.”
“We don’t have a celebrity press a button or have a countdown. We keep it simple. We’re lucky here, we don’t need the extra tourism, just the tradition. Speaking of which.” He pointed in the direction of an ice cream van that wasn’t selling ice-cream. “Mulled wine?”
“Is that Scott?” she said, squinting.
“No, it’s my uncle, Jake’s dad,” Zack said. “He’s been selling mulled wine at the lights switch-on since he was eighteen—his first business venture. Let’s get some.”
They queued for about ten minutes, most of the adults of Severton wanting to keep warm with the large mugs of the cinnamon-spiced hot wine. They were joined in the queue by Keren and Rayah. Alex was on duty with the dogs, Scott was back in his bar as it was going to be a busy night and Jake had apparently bumped into an old flame.
“We’re going to go to the Northern Whisperer for a few Christmas cocktails if you want to join us,” Rayah said.
Zack looked at Sorrell. He was more than happy to go with her or if she wanted to go without him, he’d go and perch at his brother’s bar. Tonight had never been an official date anyway, although he wanted to end the night with her.
“I think we’ll grab something to eat and head back to the hotel,” she said, surprising him a little. “Maybe I can catch up with you girls during the week?”
Rayah’s lips pursed into a very knowing smile. “We understand and forgive you. Neither of us have penises.”
Zack wondered what gene Jake and Rayah had that he and his brothers had missed out on and if there was any way of retrospectively deactivating it.
“Penis?” said Keren. “What’s a penis?”
“It’s that thing that a man has between his legs. Or sometimes on his head. We usually see the ones on the head, that’s why we don’t bother with the other one…”
