Page 59

‘Better than I could, I bet,’ I say. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure any of it is worth keeping. Feel free to get rid of whatever looks to be junk. Paddy loved to hold onto things “just in case”.’

‘Understood. I might hang on to some of the useful stuff, if that’s okay?’ says Luke.

‘Help yourself. You’re doing me a favour!’

‘We could hold auditions,’ says Lara. ‘For people to get involved. Pets, too!’

She’s right. If this is going to be the most memorable experience, we’re going to need help.

‘What’s the best way to get word out about that?’ I ask. ‘Things seem to have moved on since we were open. We used to put up signs and people used to come and find us. Now we want them to come to us and not go to Christmas Tree World!’

‘I can post something on Facebook,’ offers Lara. ‘On the local site.’ She nudges Will, who has come over to stroke Dinky. ‘How about you help me, Will?’ But he seems to have gone quiet again.

‘We’ll hold an open audition this Sunday, here at the farm, for anyone who wants to come. It’s going to be a magical Christmas here on Christmas Tree Farm,’ she says. ‘I’ll make a Facebook page and add it to the town page as well.’ She starts tapping away on her phone.

‘I’ll get out first thing tomorrow and pick up a new blade for the saw,’ says Horse.

‘I’ll use those boxes in the barn to sort things into,’ says Luke.

And on the radio in the background, I hear my first Christmas song playing.

I could never have done all this alone. I’m so grateful to have this group around me – although that feeling is tinged with sadness, too, at knowing it will be my last Christmas here.

‘Who’s ready to eat?’ announces Will, brandishing a serving spoon.

The next evening, after a day of activity – Horse and Will in the forest, Lara taking some of her accumulated leave from work to join Luke in the barn, and me painting new signs on the dining-room table – we’re back in the kitchen. The radio is on, wine has been opened. Juice for Will. Beer for Horse.

Will has his eyes shut. He’s not moving or speaking. He’s sitting stock-still, as if just . . . well, being in the moment. We’re all looking at him, almost holding our breath. The kitchen is warm, and the lamp on the work surface with the wonky shade is giving off a lovely golden glow.

We’re squashed around the round kitchen table that’s probably a bit too small for all of us. We could have used the dining room. It was always used for big dinners when Paddy was still alive. Birthdays, celebrations, Christmas – Paddy loved an excuse to gather people around the table, pouring large glasses of wine and carving huge roast joints. He loved a roast dinner more than anything. Anyway, right now that table has painted signs spread all over it.

The oven has barely been used since Paddy passed, until now. The microwave, on the other hand, was used on a daily basis. I wonder what Paddy would have made of that.

Horse, I realize as I look at him across the table, has many of the same qualities that Paddy had. Generous, kind-hearted; and he loves to laugh.

Slowly, Will opens his big brown eyes and looks up from under his dark lashes, first at me, then at Horse, then Lara and Luke. Then he breaks into a wide smile, lighting up the room, followed by a big nod and a thumbs-up.

‘You like it?’ says Horse, sitting next to him, a bandana around his head. Will is wearing a matching one. They’ve been cooking up their first daal.

Will nods, then takes another big forkful of the lentils.

We all sigh and smile at him and at each other. In front of us, a feast is laid out – the big bowl of white, fluffy rice, cooked by Lara; the last of yesterday’s curry, the daal and a batch of samosas that I helped Will to make.

The silence of that golden moment is broken as we pass bowls and plates and fill our own. Scooping in rice, topping it with curry and dollops of chutney that Nadiya brought with her yesterday. She’s given Horse the recipe.

‘What does it taste like, Will?’ Lara asks.

‘Like . . .’ He thinks about it. ‘Like when everything was good,’ he says simply, and tears spring to my eyes. He nods and smiles some more. The kitchen is full of the smells of the flavours on my plate. It’s been a long time since this kitchen has been so busy and full, and right now, I feel the same: like when everything was good. And I will treasure it.

‘So, it seems like you did it,’ I say quietly to Horse. ‘You found the key to getting him eating again. The takeaways, and bringing Nadiya here.’

We’re holding the bowl of rice between us.

‘You did that,’ he says, ‘by having him here.’

‘Not sending him away to school, you mean.’

He shrugs and passes me the spoon to help myself to rice.