Phoebe isn't the only one who’s utterly overwhelmed. Cillian flashes one of his real smiles, he’s not nearly as sparing with them these days. ‘Let’s go in, see if we can find Santa.’
Inside the manor, the magnificent foyer is decorated with red velvet ribbons, and thick, lavish garlands embellish a huge mantelpiece. Flames lick the logs of the open fire, roaring and crackling, radiating a welcoming woodsy scent. Kids are toasting s’mores, leaving trails of dripping marshmallows across the original wooden flooring.
At the bottom of a sweeping staircase is a sign for Santa’s Grotto. An overly enthusiastic elf with a clipboard takes Phoebe’s name as she twirls her hair round her finger shyly. Mrs Claus appears with a tray of warm gingerbread cookies for the kids and steaming mulled wine for the adults.
A couple of minutes later, another elf descends the stairs and calls Phoebe’s name. She glances at Cillian, then me, wide-eyed with anticipation. I pray to God that this Santa’s beard is not only real, but the right shade to pass the Phoebe test.
I nudge her up the stairs, but she digs her pink Ugg boots into the spot and tugs my hand. ‘You have to come in with us too.’ She grabs my coat and pulls me with them and warmth sloshes through my stomach that has nothing to do with the mulled wine.
Santa’s Grotto is a cosy room decorated with candy canes and piles of presents. The man himself sits in a throne-like chair in the corner.
‘Welcome, Phoebe Callaghan, do come in,’ He booms, and thankfully his thick white-grey beard doesn’t budge.
Phoebe beams, seemingly satisfied. ‘Hello Santa. I’m going to cut to the chase this year.’ She puts a tiny hand on her hip. ‘Is there any chance you could deliver me a second Mammy for Christmas? My one only works intermittently.’
ChapterThirty-Four
CILLIAN
I’m not sure which of us is more shocked, Ava, Santa, or me.
The guy in the Santa suit glances between Ava and me, then returns his focus back to Phoebe. ‘Hmm, I’m more of a toy type of gift giver, Phoebe, darling.’ He adjusts himself in the chair.
‘I know, but Christmas is about love and happiness and families, right?’ My daughter would make a great lawyer. She certainly isn't giving up without an argument. ‘So maybe you could sprinkle some of your Christmas magic about and make it happen for me?’
‘And is there anyone you have in mind for this, ahem—’ He clears his throat. ‘Position.’
Phoebe stares pointedly at Ava, a blush colouring her neck. It has nothing on the colour of Ava’s blazing face. She smothers the nervous rattle that bursts from her lips with her hand.
‘Sarah Snowden’s dad left, and her mammy married another man and gave Sarah a second dad.’ Phoebe gesticulates wildly in front of her. ‘He buys Sarah loads of presents, lets her stay up late at weekends and Mrs Snowden is always smiling now.’
‘Is that right?’ Santa chuckles, his eyes gleaming. I bet that man has heard it all.
‘Yep.’ Phoebe says matter-of-factly. ‘They even go on family date nights to the pictures and for days out to the zoo.’
‘And what is this, exactly?’ Santa raises a white furry eyebrow in my direction. ‘Isn't this a family date night?’
Phoebe’s face furrows while she thinks about it. Like the flicking of a switch, her face lights. ‘That magic, Santa, just sprinkle it here, now.’ She attempts a wink but ends up blinking instead.
Santa exhales a huge belly laugh. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ A white gloved finger taps the side of his nose conspicuously before handing over a gold token. ‘Take this for now. It’s for the toy factory downstairs. Hand it to one of the elves and you can pick any toy in my workshop.’
‘Thank you, Santa.’ Phoebe squeals, hopping from foot to foot with excitement.
‘No, thank you, Phoebe Callaghan. You made my day.’ Santa shakes her hand, and she blows him a kiss before skipping out the door.
‘Oh, and if you could throw in a dog, for good measure, Santa, I won’t ask for a single thing next year!’
‘Good luck with that.’ He murmurs with another chuckle.
Helpful, Santa. Really fucking helpful.
I drop Ava home after Hollybrooke and promise to call her tomorrow. As she gets out of the car, every single cell in my body vibrates with a silent protest. I want her to come home with us so badly, but given Phoebe’s romantically astute notions, it’s better for all of us if we spend the rest of the evening apart.
Phoebe has been suspiciously quiet for a child who had plenty to say all afternoon and evening. She stares out of the window watching as Ava dips in through those revolving glass doors.
‘I miss Ava already.’ She pouts. ‘Can we go see Nanny?’
I glance at the clock. It’s almost seven but if we go this evening then that will free up tomorrow. I need to pack for Nate’s wedding, that’s if Phoebe is okay for me to leave her. Seeing my mother might be the exact encouragement she needs.
