“You too, little sister,” she says, pulling me closer and letting me lean on her again.
We stay like that for a long time, until eventually my eyelids droop and I slink back to my room for a few hours of sleep. I climb back into bed and thread my arms around Curtis, resting my head against his back. I can’t tell if he wakes up from the movement, but his hand automatically slides over mine and I allow the warmth of us to wrap me in sleep.
*
“Merry Christmas, Mum!” Curtis says on the phone to his mother from the living room. The rest of us didn’t do much in the way of presents this year, but evidence of the little we did do litters the floor all over the comfortable leather couches and the rug, the coffee table strewn with nibbles and empty glasses.
The others have gone for a walk to give Curtis some privacy while he has, possibly, one of the most awkward conversations of the year. I’ve volunteered to clean up so we can watch movies and play games when they come back. Lucky me.
“Yes, I’m fine. Yes, she loved the camera. Thanks, by the way for your help with that. Yes, I’m eating well,” he says, evidently being bombarded with questions.
He disappeared while his parents were on holiday. God knows what they think of me, a girl who appeared in his life one day and vanished him away only a week or two later. I shake my head while he tries to veer away from some choice remarks about why he’s been so tardy with his calls.
“Ella’s here, actually,” he says, quickly, trying to pass the buck and looking at me slightly apologetically, “I’ll put you on speakerphone.”
I roll my eyes at him and grin. This ought to be fun.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs Mayes!” I chime into the handset of his new phone.
“Oh, love, it’s wonderful to finally hear your voice and a Merry Christmas to you. I hope you’ve all been having a lovely time,” her warm, Yorkshire accent comes down the phone. I like her even though I’ve never met her in person. A woman that would break into my old house just to retrieve my camera is worth her weight in gold.
“It’s been amazing so far, thank you so much. How are you enjoying your day?” I ask, while Curtis pretends to wipe the sweat from his brow theatrically.
“The usual, love, the usual. We miss our boy but it sounds like you’re keeping him in line. Unfortunately Curtis your Dad would come to the phone but he’s already a bit tipsy,” she whispers and I stifle a laugh. From what Curtis has told me about his family holidays, ‘a bit tipsy’ means he’s already completely drunk.
“It’s not the same without him here! The house feels empty!” A gruff voice calls from somewhere in the background. Peter Mayes, no doubt. Curtis scowls.
“No one for him to target with snide remarks, more like,” he says to me, almost inaudibly.
“What was that, love?” his Mum asks.
“Nothing, Mum, nothing.”
“He’s on about long lost family again, love. I think he misses you more than he’ll admit,” she says as if her husband isn’t sitting in the same room as her. “Let us know when you can come by, won’t you?”
“Of course, of course. Oh, I think the others are just coming back indoors now so I better crack on. Give my love to dad. Love you lots, bye!” He hangs up just as I managed to squeeze in a few words of farewell and shakes his head, flopping down on the wrapping-paper-covered sofa.
I sit down next to him and run a hand down his arm consolingly.
“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” I say, allowing my fingers to trail up his neck and into his hair. He closes his eyes and leans into my hand, enjoying the feeling.
“Could have been worse, I suppose,” he says, putting a broad hand on my knee and squeezing it gently. “I feel terrible though, for leaving them like that. For lying to them.”
That’s my fault and I know it is. I was the one who decided to take him to the Duke. I’m the Augur everyone wants a piece of, forcing him to keep my secrets. I try to cover up how much that hurts me.
“You want to visit them maybe, in the new year?” I suggest, hoping that it will help.
“God, no. I mean, Mum, yes, I miss her. But Dad? Forget it. Nothing good would come of that,” he shakes his head and pulls me closer to him, so that my face is just inches from his. “Besides, I don’t want to leave you for more than five minutes if I can help it,” he says, his breath warm on my face. I lean in for a kiss, nothing but the ticking of Beryl’s grandfather clock and the birds chirping outside to disturb us.
“I love you,” I say, brushing my lips against his.
“I love you too,” he replies, just as Jer and Lou burst in the door with David, Mumbe and Beryl not far behind.
“I thought you were going to clean up?” Lou protests.
“Interrupting something?” Jer smirks, dumping his jacket on the side of the sofa.
“I’ll put the kettle on!” Beryl says from the hallway.
“Let me give you a hand, Mum,” David replies.
“There you all are. When is the panettone coming out then?” Agnes asks, wandering down the stairs in her bathrobe having just woken up from a nap.
The chaos and noise is a stark contrast from the peace of a few minutes before, but we grin at each other, welcoming it.
“Better get on with tidying up then!” I say, untangling myself from the sofa and shoving wrapping paper into a bag.
Everyone has done something to contribute to the day, whether it be helping to prepare food or setting the table, decorating the house or cleaning up. All in a mad cacophony of having eight people under one roof. A very large roof, thanks to Beryl’s not insignificant wealth, but it makes for a colourful household all the same.
What’s left of the day is taken up with drinking lots of tea, eating far too much panettone, and playing silly games of charades before arguing over what movie to watch. It’s possibly the best Christmas I’ve ever had, I think to myself more than once.
I cast furtive glances in Agnes’s direction. Even she smiles and participates, which is a phenomenon itself. Our previous Christmases consisted of the two of us watching TV for most of the day and trying to make something edible. Seeing her crack a joke with Mumbe and play charades on the same team as David makes something in my chest stir. A warmth that I haven’t felt in a long time. The both of us are finally starting to belong.
While Jer and Lou try to outvote everyone into watching Die Hard 2, while Beryl, David and Mumbe insist on Elf, I look up to find Curtis staring at me with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“What is it?” I ask, ignoring the fact that Agnes has just proclaimed we should watch Gremlins.
“Are you happy?” he asks, leaning towards me, his mouth brushing my cheek, a flutter of pleasure running through my body.
Agnes said I should be. Said that I deserved to be. And when I’m with him, surrounded by all the people that I love, I believe I can be.
“With you? Always.”
***
About the Author
Rebecca Danese is a writer, photographer, artist and illustrator living in London with her husband and two children, along with far too many notebooks and plants.
She has several projects on the go, including further books in the Divided by Magic series, and a younger reader adventure series, The Tree Children, also available on Amazon.
To find out more about her work visit: www.rebeccadanese.com or follow her on social media:
Facebook: rebecca.danese.creates
Instagram: rebeccadanese_books
Twitter: @thenikongirl88
If you liked this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads! I will send chocolate. Okay, maybe not, but I’ll be very, very grateful!
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