‘I have a good man by my side and I know that somehow we’ll manage. You are so right, Will, when you say it’s all about remembering what’s important and not getting caught up in things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of life.’
Cary catches the tail end of our conversation.
‘Yes, a really good man.’
‘One who is going to be hands on at home,’ I add with a measure of satisfaction.
‘Shh! Don’t let Beth hear that. I’m useless around the house and I’m counting on her to sort all that stuff out.’
Cary claps him on the back. ‘Every one of us is different, Will. What matters is that you find a way through it that works for you both.’
Dad and Mum have disappeared, and I cast around, wondering where they’ve gone.
‘I introduced them to Cressida and Matthew. They’ve gone inside to have a chat and a hot drink. I didn’t think you’d mind,’ Cary explains.
‘Aww,’ Beth moans. ‘I’m so excited to meet her. It will be a fan girl moment, but I’ll try my best not to shriek!’
Oh dear, she isn’t joking.
Beth links arms with me and pulls me to one side. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything but after the wedding fiasco I wanted to prove to Will that none of it mattered. Saying “I do” only involves two people when you get right down to it. The rest is just cosmetic.’
I look at Beth and I can see how happy she is; I feel so proud of the woman she’s turning into. Some lessons come at a price that is worth paying, but that doesn’t make it easy.
‘Oh, I hope this doesn’t upset you, but I bumped into Sheryl. She said to thank you and that she’s decided to re-think her life. I don’t know what she meant, exactly, but she made me promise I’d pass on the message. I was rather surprised the two of you were still in touch.’
Beth’s eyes search mine.
‘It’s fine. We aren’t, it was just a one-off. I’m glad she’s okay but I don’t think about the past any more. What’s done is done.’
‘Good,’ Beth says with gusto. ‘We’ll toast the future together, in a bit. I’d better go in search of my husband – oh, that sounds so wonderful!’
We hug each other excitedly, before heading off in opposite directions.
I catch up with Cary and we continue to wander around, meeting, greeting and introducing. What I love is that it does look rather like we could be in a snow-covered resort. We are surrounded by a crowd of fellow snow worshippers, wearing fur trimmed parkas and brightly coloured skiwear. The air is still, but cold, so everyone has that rosy-cheeked, pink nose thing going on. Except the kids, who are all glowing and a little sweaty from all the chasing around they are doing. I can imagine the children’s faces at the local playgroup when we arrive to fill a huge paddling pool with these plastic balls on their first day back after Christmas.
Cary eventually pulls me to one side. ‘We have an hour and a half until it’s time to serve the buffet. Robert says that the hog roast is coming along nicely and we can relax. Everything is in hand. Happy?’
‘Ecstatic. You?’
‘I can’t believe how lucky we are, and we seem to be surrounded by good news. Grandma is on the mend; Granddad is back by her side, where he belongs; Beth and Will, well, they were meant for each other and I’m glad they managed to turn it around. That can’t have been easy for them. Your mum and dad are beaming. And here we are – you and me, together as a real couple. Did it occur to you that it’s our first anniversary? The day our verbal contract was put into practice.’
In all the excitement I’d totally forgotten.
‘Come on.’ Cary grabs my hand and pulls me away from the house.
‘We can’t just disappear.’
‘Nicholas will take charge and we can swan back in at the last moment. Besides, next on the agenda is hot chocolate with marshmallows and gingerbread men fresh from the oven. That should distract them all for a while.’
He leads me out into the lane and we wander down to our bench to sit, staring out at the viaduct. With the azure blue sky above us so reminiscent of the first time I was here, it’s magical. Overhead, the boughs of the old oak trees are decorated with huge balls of mistletoe and creeping ivy, as nature puts on its own festive display.
‘The Santa Clause was a good start, wasn’t it? The Easter Clause was a bit tricky, I will admit. But I think we’ve thrashed out the details for the Marriage Clause and, God willing, the Baby Clause.’ Cary sounds content, as if he’s signing off on our future plans with great expectations of what’s to come.
‘That’s everything sorted, then. How did you refer to our arrangement, once? Civilised, I think was the word,’ I remind him.
‘Oh. What was I thinking? That isn’t the way to a woman’s heart, is it? You don’t have to be Cary Grant to know that. Love, I’ve come to discover, is all-consuming, not civilised at all. How could it be? Because suddenly nothing else matters but that one thing; that one person. But you must forgive me as I had no idea at all where it was all heading and that was the old me. What I thought of as a convenient temporary fix turned out to be my grand passion in life. Now there’s an idea for Cressida’s next story. No prizes for guessing the moral of that one, though.’
Our laughter echoes around us.
I cast around, watching a man and woman heading in our general direction, a cute little puppy straining on the leash in front of them. As they get closer I don’t recognise the breed but it’s a jolly little thing. They head for the bench and I move over a little to make room for them.
‘Hey little guy,’ I put my hand down and ruffle his head as he tries to jump up on my lap.
‘Here you go, Cary,’ the man says, handing the lead to him but he doesn’t take it. Instead he turns to look at me.
‘Happy Christmas, Leesa.’
I clap my hands to my face in delight, leaving the puppy to jump around excitedly.
‘What’s his… her name?’
‘That’s entirely up to you. She’s a cross between a beagle and a basset hound. She’s the last of four pups and she needed a home. I didn’t intend getting you a four-legged Christmas present, I will be honest, but when I popped down to the farm first thing this morning, we crossed paths. And that, as they say, was that.’
The man looks at me, nodding. ‘She’s the last one of the litter to go and dogs, like a lot of animals, choose their owners.’
A name pops into my head with hardly any conscious thought at all. ‘Bibi. We’ll call her Bibi.’
Cary pulls out his phone and taps away. ‘It says here it’s French for “lady of the house”.’
‘Perfect!’ I exclaim.
The man shakes Cary’s hand and the woman extends him a warm smile.
‘We’re thrilled you’re able to take her. Our house is the one further down the lane on the left. We’re just off to visit family in Bristol so can’t make the party, but we’ll arrange for you both to pop in for a drink soon and meet Bibi’s parents. She has a sweet nature and deserves a good home.’
I stand, shaking their hands before I take control of Bibi’s lead. A little thrill runs through me. Suddenly it all feels so real. Welcoming Bibi marks the beginning and I scan around, thinking this is the start of a new life and one I could never have imagined.
*
It’s late afternoon and people head off home, stomachs full and throats hoarse from the Christmas karaoke session. I think our rendition of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ almost shook the huge marquee off its pitch. ‘Gangnam Style’ was the kids’ favourite though and had them all prancing around, it was hilarious. Now to steer the family back inside, as Nicholas and Robert have already gone on ahead to prepare for us.
‘It’s been a wonderful day, Leesa. You two worked really hard to pull this off.’ Mum gives me a hug, her eyes full of delight. At last my parents have had the Christmas they deserve and, for once, they were able to sit back and simply enjoy it.
‘Right, everyone,’ I shout above the general cha
tter, ‘let’s head inside for one last treat.’
There’s no squealing from the kids because the noisiest ones are already inside. Cary and Matthew are either side of Cressida, but she doesn’t seem to be flagging and I take that as a good sign that she really is over the worst.
We filter in through the French doors and on into the large open area at the foot of the stairs. The Christmas tree isn’t quite as perfect as last year’s, I fancy, but it’s still an awesome sight to behold.
Robert and Nicholas have set up a semicircle of chairs several feet back from the base of the tree and we settle Cressida down in the middle of the row.
‘What’s this?’ she asks, curiously.
On cue, the music strikes up and everyone scrambles to take a seat.
Laurence enters, dressed as a shepherd and carrying a folded screen. Following close behind him, Jackson is carrying a small manger in his arms.
As the backing track unfolds the story of Christmas, Laurence sets up the screen off to one side and Jackson rather ceremoniously places the manger in front of it. As we hear about the star guiding the Three Wise Men to the stable there’s a lot of posturing between the two of them and I look around to see everyone is smiling. Is that a tea-towel on Laurence’s head, I wonder?
From behind the screen Sally, who is wearing a long pale blue robe, quickly appears, placing baby Alice in the manger. Everyone begins to clap, falling silent only when they realise she is asleep. Tired out by a day of being handed around and fawned over, no doubt.
It’s time for the Three Wise Men to appear and suddenly little Chloe enters far right, to a collective ‘aah’. Walking slowly and with great solemnity in her cute white garment, she’s holding up a cardboard banner on a pole. It depicts the three Kings riding across the hills on the backs of camels. She jostles the pole a little as the narrative describes their perilous journey. The stable is beginning to take shape and last, but not least, Daisy appears. She’s dressed in a long white garment, too, and is carrying a box with three gifts. One wrapped in gold paper, one in silver and one in purple. She turns for a moment when she draws level with her great-grandma to give her a big grin and we all chuckle.
As the story draws to a close our little baby Jesus stirs, and the wailing begins. Sally stoops to pick her up, cradling her in her arms, making a poignant tableau when Laurence and the kids draw round her. The Christmas story has been told and Alice is now competing with the strains of a full choir singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’. There isn’t a dry eye in the house and on the final note everyone is on their feet, clapping loudly. Sally bows and makes a quick exit with Alice to feed her.
‘You guys were amazing,’ Cressida announces, walking across to give each of them a hug in turn.
‘We did it for you, Great-Grandma. Daddy said that you haven’t been very well and he thought we should do something to make you feel better.’
‘Oh, my cherubs, I do! I feel wonderful.’
What increases my joy is seeing Mum, Dad, Beth and Will feeling a part of this, even though for them it must all be a little overwhelming. I felt the same way on my first visit. But when all is said and done it’s just a house, a rather grand one, but bricks and mortar all the same.
Cary appears from behind the screen, Bibi at his heels with her little tail wagging.
‘No blips with the CD, well done, darling,’ I pat him on the back as I plant a kiss on his cheek.
Suddenly the jolliest Santa I think I’ve ever seen appears just a couple of paces behind Cary. And what a job Cary has done of turning Nicholas into Saint Nick.
‘I think it’s present time. Ho! Ho! Ho!’ he declares in a robust, bass tone to the accompaniment of loud squeals.
Cressida is standing next to me and whispers into my ear.
‘Has Matthew brought the presents in from the car?’ I nod, and she gives me a smile that says so much more. It comes from the heart; a very happy and contented heart that is strong once more.
Laurence assists Santa in sorting out the presents into piles. There are token gifts for the adults and some special gifts for the kids.
We move the chairs closer to the tree so that we can all watch as the little ones sit on the floor and begin the grand opening. Well, the tearing and the ripping. And yapping from an excited Bibi. But we all know it’s not about the gifts, because we’ve already had the perfect Christmas Day.
Cary catches my eye and with a tilt of his head directs me to follow him. The present-opening stops for a moment as everyone looks up. Cary takes my hand and leads me over to the bottom of the staircase and proceeds to get down on one knee.
‘Leesa Nichole Oliver,’ he begins and I look across at my parents, frowning. Who told him about the Nichole? What other little snippets of information have they been sharing about me, I wonder?
‘I have your father’s permission to ask the question. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?’
He pulls a pink plastic ring out of his pocket and I burst out laughing. It’s one from the crackers on the buffet table.
‘Yes.’ With a little shove, he eases it over my knuckle and it appears to fit.
Cary stands and I assume he’s going to kiss me. Instead he turns to our audience and does a rather theatrical mopping of his brow with one hand.
‘Phew. If she’s willing to accept a plastic ring then I know I’ve chosen the right one. I just wanted to say that you have all made today a wonderful occasion. It means so much to both Leesa and me, that you could all be here to share this moment with us.’
And then he does kiss me, to ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the assembled crowd, who break into another round of applause.
‘Right, back to the unwrapping! Merry Christmas everyone!’ he declares.
We stand hand in hand, and as things settle back down, he turns to face me.
‘Merry Christmas my soon-to-be Mrs Leesa Anderson. God, that gives me a thrill to hear myself say that. As soon as we get a chance we will go ring shopping.’
I hold out my hand to stare down at my ring.
‘I don’t know, I think I rather like this one. I might not want to take it off.’
Slipping my arms around his neck, I sink into him, thinking I have everything I need right here. Cary rather skilfully scoops me up into his arms and carries me across the hallway. Glancing upwards, I start laughing as I gaze at the mistletoe.
‘We’d better not waste it,’ I say, a little breathless with excitement as our lips meet. His touch is gentle at first, then more insistent until we remember where we are.
As I cast my eye over his shoulder, surveying the festive scene and smiling faces, I begin to think about the series of coincidences that led to this moment. The sudden snowstorm and being stranded; getting to know Cary and his family, then losing all contact; and now, being given a second chance. We’ve both discovered that all you need to do is to listen to your heart, let go of the past and grab a slice of happiness with both hands when it comes your way. Like we’re grabbing each other now.
‘Right time, right place,’ I mutter to myself. Then, as I gaze up adoringly at Cary, ‘And best of all, the right man.’
I knew my very own mistletoe moment would come and it didn’t disappoint. And neither did the hero of my story.
Realising that love is actually all around means there’s always hope.
For everyone.
Acknowledgements:
No man is an island …
That famous line from John Donne’s prose – published in 1624 – has always stuck in my head. When it comes to the publication of a novel the author is simply the first link in a chain of participants. It takes a whole host of people to turn the equivalent of a four-inch stack of A4 paper into a polished, beautifully presented book.
To my awesome editor, Hannah Smith - it’s a pure delight working with you lovely lady. Thanks go to Dushi Horti, Sue Lamprell and David Boxell, for their hard work in helping to make the words on the page sparkle.
Huge
thanks also go to Laura Palmer, Nikky Ward and Vicky Joss for their tremendous effort behind the scenes to publicise and promote Lucy. You guys are amazing!
To my lovely agent, Sara Keane, who keeps me on my toes – I couldn’t do this without your help and support!
There are some wonderful reviewers and readers who continue to follow my career and support me every step of the way – for that I’m eternally grateful. Please know that it’s your wonderful reviews that spur me on.
But every single day I’m amazed by the kindness of my fellow authors and new readers I may never meet, who add to that support network and share the book love. It’s truly a blessing.
I must also mention my wonderful family and close friends who put up with my obsession to write. They are so forgiving of my demanding, crazy working pattern which takes me out of circulation for weeks at a time. And not forgetting Lawrence, my rock, for getting me through the tough times and being there to celebrate the happy times.
For those who have taken the time to contact me via my website, or Tweeted me to share their reading experience, I feel both humbled and loved at the same time.
And, in reading this it means YOU, too, have played a part. Plucking my book from a shelf or downloading it on your reading device, is what keeps me writing. And I can promise you one thing… there are many more stories to come!
With much love and grateful thanks,
Lucy x
About the Author
Lucy lives in the Forest of Dean in the UK with her lovely husband and Bengal cat, Ziggy. Her novels have been shortlisted in the UK's Festival of Romance and the eFestival of Words Book Awards. Lucy won the 2013 UK Festival of Romance: Innovation in Romantic Fiction award.
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