Page 66

Horse steps forward. ‘I’m sorry, Will; I didn’t realize. I shouldn’t have asked you to read aloud.’

‘It’s fine, Horse, really. I just mostly remember things, not read them.’

‘And it’s not a race,’ says Luke. ‘Reading is about having fun, it’s not meant to be a chore. It’s so you can enjoy stories and adventures. I used to love the Beano. I’ll find one for us to read together.’

Will smiles, then looks back at Horse. ‘Will you help me read a recipe and take something to Ayesha soon?’

‘Of course, buddy. I’d love that.’

And my heart swells at the thought of him and Horse cooking together; of Lara helping him read; and Luke sitting here, supporting him too.

‘In the meantime . . .’ Horse holds up the big orange cast-iron pot. ‘How about we light this bonfire and cook some potatoes? We don’t need a recipe for that!’

Will’s face lights up, like a firework filling the night sky.

‘Really?! Can we?’

‘Of course.’ I smile.

Horse goes over to the little hut that stands near Paddy’s tree. It’s where we used to serve hot chocolates in the old days. It’s closed, but he sets the curry pot down on the ground, opens the hatch with a flourish, then lifts the pot up onto the counter within.

‘I’ll get the bonfire lit,’ says Luke. ‘Loved doing this as a boy. Been years since I’ve done anything like it.’ Then he adds quietly, ‘Anything that wasn’t good for content. It’s good doing something just for fun.’

Even Luke has been missing out on a lot of life’s simple pleasures, I realize. But he quickly brightens. ‘Will, want me to show you how to make firelighters out of newspaper? My grandpa taught me when I was your age.’

‘Plenty of old papers inside the cottage,’ says Horse. ‘Help yourselves, they’re just by the fireplace. Some of them date back ten years or more,’ he adds.

They must date back to around the time the farm help left, I think. After that, we couldn’t afford to keep anyone else on; we had to do it all ourselves. There was a farmhand here when we still had cattle, but in those early days of opening the Christmas tree farm, we just couldn’t afford extra staff.

Paddy’s parents were still alive then and were in the farmhouse still, so we moved into this cottage. We’d be up early and outside all day, until dark. In those days we didn’t have lights or generators – once darkness fell, people didn’t come to look at trees. Even so, the weekends leading up to Christmas were always busy. We ached by the end of the day. We’d make sure the hot water was switched on for hot, deep baths and then sit in front of the little open fire, eating bacon and eggs with buttered toast and drinking hot chocolate. Then we would collapse, shattered, into bed with hot water bottles, a thick eiderdown and each other for warmth.

After his parents died, we moved into the farmhouse and made plans for the cottage that never came to anything. Paddy would let people stay in it – friends, friends of friends for weekends, and the like – but we didn’t charge them. That was Paddy all over. He wanted people to enjoy the cottage and the forest just as we had done. Gareth even stayed here for a bit while his divorce was happening, but he was keen to move back into his four-bedroomed house once his wife had moved on to her new life. So it’s been quite a little sanctuary in its time, for those who needed it.

I love that Horse has made himself at home here now, in this cottage in the middle of the forest. Because that’s exactly what he looks like: a man at home, in his big tartan fleece jacket and red and white bandana. He looks up, sees me watching him and smiles, and I get a sensation of sparklers swirling in my stomach – just as if it were actually Bonfire Night.

And as the fire is lit, my cheeks glow and the robin sits nearby, clearly loving every bit of this as much as I am.

Chapter 27

The next few days pass in what becomes a comforting routine.

Horse is up and out early and Will goes with him, helping to clear more paths around the Christmas trees. They load bramble and hedge trimmings into a trolley to pile together in a corner of the farm, and Horse lays wood chippings around the paths.

Luke arrives to see to the pups every morning; Will usually makes a beeline to help him out for a bit, too. Then Lara arrives to sit with Will on one of the straw bales, next to the pups, as they make more paper chains and work on learning letters and putting them together into words. She always makes it clear to us that she’s there on her own time. She’s spent so much time working since splitting up with her ex last year that she’s owed a huge amount of time in lieu, apparently. And here is where she’s happy to spend it: with the pups, on the farm, getting ready for Christmas. They’re naming each puppy and making paper chains and paper bunting with their names on.

The pathways have been strung with the lights Luke brought over from Scarlett’s.

‘Well, they’ll end up here anyway!’ he points out, when I ask if Scarlett will mind that he’s taken them. ‘Just saving the packers a job!’

He adds more lights around the barn entrance itself, surrounding the big double doors. Will and Lara’s paper chains hang across the beams, all decorated with new words that Will has learnt, including all our names. There’s Lara, Luke, Tegan, Dinky, Delilah the donkey, Will, Gwen and Horse, along with the puppies: Stinker, Angel, Santa, Nosy and his favourite, with the lop ears, Elf.

And the whole place is decorated with greenery from the forest: holly, with bright red berries; dark green, fresh-smelling pine branches that brush you as you pass, releasing the scent of the forest and making me feel reassured, like a hand patting me on the back telling me I can do this. There are eucalyptus branches woven in and out of them, too, in bunches with paper cut-out bells. Lara has even made some door wreaths with Will, while working on how to spell each piece of greenery they use; and Luke has hung up bunches of mistletoe that Horse has cut down in the forest.

And nearly always there, outside the barn, is the chunky red robin. I’ve started to make sure he’s got crumbs each morning, and I break the ice in the old trough so that he can have a drink.

‘So we’ll open on the first,’ I say as we gather in the kitchen around the table and share a pot of tea. It’s nearly the end of November now. ‘Although I can’t imagine we’ll have too many customers these first two weeks – not for the cut trees, anyway. People may want ones for outside, with roots, in pots. Maybe we should start by choosing some of those and get them ready for buyers by the barn.’

‘Sure,’ says Horse, knocking back the last of his tea.