Christmas Wishes: From the Sunday Times bestselling and award-winning author of romance fiction comes a feel-good cosy Christmas read

by Sue Moorcroft

  Hannah closed her eyes. ‘You were incredibly rude.’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘You were a bulldozer.’

  ‘Under pressure,’ Christopher acknowledged unhappily. ‘I admit it and apologise, Miss Goodbody, but the traders are crying out for you and I’ll make it worth your while.’

  ‘Actual money?’

  ‘How about three hundred pounds for the day?’ he suggested.

  Hannah frowned, following Josie and Maria’s game with her eyes though her thoughts were obviously elsewhere. Then she sighed. ‘For the sake of the traders who have sunk so much into Carlysle Courtyard,’ she agreed at length. ‘But I’m flying home from Sweden today so I can’t be there any earlier than seven-thirty tomorrow.’ For the next ten minutes she talked and Christopher thanked. She came off the phone half-smiling and half-aggravated.

  ‘Men!’ she joked. ‘Always ready to take advantage.’

  He took her words semi-seriously. ‘Like me? Accepting your help on this trip?’

  She put her phone away and twinkled naughtily. ‘I got a lot out of it. A trip to Sweden and Albin sorted. And … some lovely, lovely other things.’

  Nico didn’t let her joke it away. He checked the girls were still busy with little fat dolls and ran his fingertips over her neck. ‘This time with you has made me happier than I’ve been for years.’ They hadn’t talked about the future but it suddenly felt very important that she know that.

  Pleasure blooming in her fine eyes, she blew him a tiny kiss. ‘Same here,’ she whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Middledip sparkled with evening frost, Christmas trees twinkled from windows and the pub was lit up like a float in a Christmas carnival. It would have been scrumptious to follow Nico and the kids into the welcoming warmth of Honeybun Cottage but Hannah knew hers and Nico’s feelings were as new and delicate as spiders’ webs, so she hugged them all goodbye and towed her rolling luggage to Nan’s.

  Nan was still staying with Brett and the house felt empty without her. Hannah had called her on the drive from the airport and told her she’d be managing the Christmas Opening tomorrow after all. Nan had exclaimed in her creaky voice, ‘Me and Brett will call in. Can’t wait to see you, duck.’

  ‘Nico and the girls plan to visit too,’ Hannah had answered, hoping her happiness didn’t filter into her voice and prompt Nan to ask searching questions. She was still getting used to the way he made her heart beat and didn’t want even one sceptical word to disturb the precious beginning of something she felt would be deeper and more grounded than anything she’d ever felt for Albin.

  A small heap of unopened Christmas cards lay on Nan’s doormat along with a key to the Carlysle Courtyard office. The note inside the envelope read, You’re a lifesaver. Think Christopher and I would have divorced if we’d had to run the opening. Cassie x

  More than half wishing she hadn’t agreed to undertake the mammoth day’s work Hannah set her alarm for six-thirty and plummeted into bed, glittering dreams of the promised Christmas with Nico swimming through her mind.

  In the morning, with no opportunity to get hold of a proper Christmas costume, she pulled on thermal underwear then thick black leggings and a green overshirt cinched in with a yellow belt, hoping it was the kind of outfit Santa’s helpers might wear. She stapled a ball of silver tinsel to the point of a bright red woolly hat and it stood upright and looked quite elfish once she’d stuffed it with her hair. With fingerless mittens and knee-high black boots she hoped she’d be able to put up with the cold.

  In her mum’s little car she bowled beneath the lights hanging gaily between the trees lining Main Road and took the lane to Fen Drove, headlights picking out the icy skeletons of hedges, mind fixed on the day ahead. ‘It is what it is,’ she philosophised aloud. ‘Even Christopher Carlysle can’t expect Christmas Opening perfection. I’ll settle for avoiding chaos.’

  She arrived at Carlysle Courtyard to see every shop brightly lit. Mark from the model shop emerged dressed as a beaming Santa, lengths of tinsel floating from his hands. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he cried. ‘That idiot Simeon’s locked the gazebo in the office. How are we supposed to get it up and decorated?’

  ‘I have the key.’ Hannah brandished it, buoyed by a fizz of excitement at temporarily returning to the Courtyard team.

  Gina hurried out of Paraphernalia, her denim-clad legs and sweater-covered arms emerging from a Christmas pudding outfit. ‘Hannah – hoorah, you’ve come to save us!’ just as Perla and Teo trotted out of Posh Nosh in reindeer costumes and painted-on red noses.

  From that instant, Hannah felt completely steeped in Christmas. Mark and Teo helped erect the gazebo. It wanted to lurch like a drunk on the uneven pavers but Mark, talented at assembly, made it submit. Soon it shone with red, blue and green lights. A small pick-up arrived with the balloon arch for the entrance and Hannah pulled off her coat and sprinted up the drive in her elf costume to supervise its placement.

  Cars began to arrive, including Christopher Carlysle’s. ‘Oh, good,’ Hannah panted when she saw his bulky figure, her hands busily twisting tinsel around the gazebo uprights. ‘Can you do the car park marshalling? There are no lines on gravel. If you see Santa, send him straight to the grotto. He’s late.’

  Christopher put on a high-vis vest and meekly went to do as bid. Hannah blew on her chilly fingers and surveyed the courtyard. Every illuminated shop window glowed and twinkled, tinsel glimmered and a rainbow of baubles reflected the magical scene. She snapped her fingers. ‘Presents for the grotto!’ They were in the office, wrapped already and piled in a hessian sack with rope handles – Simeon had at least followed her plans and kept everything bubbling.

  Now all they needed was Santa. He arrived five minutes late, red coat flying, puffing apologies. ‘Had to go back for my beard!’ The people milling in the courtyard waiting for the shops to open clapped and Santa – real name Ivan – began ho-ho-hoing as beaming kids lined up, craning to admire his corpulent red figure and luxuriant white beard.

  Then it was ten o’clock and the shop doors were thrown open with gleeful shouts of, ‘Merry Christmas! Welcome to—’ And each trader tried to shout the name of their shop louder than the others.

  Nan and Brett were among the early birds, Brett wearing a Cossack hat over his thin hair, Nan’s eyes watering behind her glasses. She gave Hannah a huge hug. ‘Isn’t it lovely? There must be a thousand lights blazing. Have you had a wonderful time in Sweden? Was it even more wintry than here?’

  ‘Awesome,’ Hannah replied honestly, hugging her grandmother’s tiny figure. She felt as small and slight as Josie. ‘Have you had a lovely time with Brett?’

  ‘He’s looked after me beautifully,’ Nan declared. Brett smiled bashfully. He was a quiet man. Unless directly addressed, his conversation usually amounted to ‘Hello, there!’ and, later, ‘Cheerio!’ Nan’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’ll be glad to get back home though. We’ve decided we’re too set in our ways for marriage. I think I’m Brett’s girlfriend.’

  Hannah couldn’t resist whispering back, ‘And I think I’m Nico’s girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh, Hannah! He’s such a nice boy.’ Nan gave her another squeeze. ‘I’m too tired for shopping so we’ll just tootle off to Posh Nosh for stollen and mince pies.’

  ‘I won’t mind if you want to go straight home,’ Hannah said, concerned.

  But Nan smiled. ‘No, I’ll hang around. Maybe something exciting will happen.’

  ‘Mark’s doing a demo of making a model sleigh at eleven if that’s what you mean,’ Hannah joked. ‘If Nico arrives, Nan, no teasing him about me, OK? We haven’t talked about when or if to tell the girls.’ Flushing that she sounded vaguely proprietorial about ‘the girls’ she pulled her phone from her shirt pocket as Nan and Brett headed for the warmth and delicious smells emanating from the tea room. She’d known Nico and co wouldn’t arrive early because of his scheduled supermarket delivery but it was nearly eleven. She tried calling but
was directed straight to voicemail so she texted instead. You all OK? Christmas Opening going well. xxx

  Then it was time to transform herself into a human PA system, cruising the courtyard calling, ‘Mark’s fantastic model making demo is about to begin under the gazebo! Free demo!’ and an expectant crowd began to gather.

  Half an hour later, when the demo was over, Nan appeared again, wearing mince pie crumbs on the front of her coat.

  Hannah paused in handing out lollipops to children. ‘Are you going?’

  Nan craned to look over Hannah’s shoulder. ‘Not yet.’ Then she waved energetically, grinning. Brett, who’d followed Nan, waved and grinned too.

  Hannah swung around in time to see The Bus turning into the car park, its pea-soup colours cheered by tinsel streaming from the door handles and her parents’ faces beaming through the windscreen. ‘Mum! Dad!’ she shouted in astonished delight.

  The Bus paused for Mo to manoeuvre her body through the passenger door, pulling on a purple coat. ‘Hannah, darling! Are we a nice surprise?’

  Jeremy drove on because Christopher was gesticulating violently that he was holding the traffic up and Mo and Hannah raced towards one another.

  Hannah’s heart soared as her small, round mother cannoned into her arms. ‘I thought you were spending Christmas in Switzerland!’ Mo smelled of buttered toast and her hug felt like love.

  ‘We missed you all too much. Christmas isn’t Christmas without your loved ones, is it? Nan’s known we were coming for the past few days but we thought we’d surprise you.’ Mo extricated herself to hug Nan and Brett, too.

  The Bus safely parked, Jeremy hurried up for another round of cuddles and the family ignored the jostling of the shoppers around them as they caught up on all the news.

  Teo’s plaintive voice broke in. He looked decidedly chilly in his chef whites. ‘Hannah, are we going to get my demonstration going?’

  ‘Sorry!’ she called back hastily. She beamed around her family. ‘This morning’s crazy.’

  ‘We’re ready to see Middledip again so we won’t linger,’ Mo declared, hugging her again. ‘You’re in your element amongst all these pretty shops, aren’t you? I’m proud of you, Hannah.’

  The afternoon whizzed by in a flood of people flowing in and out of festively twinkling shops as if they had only this one day to accomplish all their Christmas shopping. Christopher Carlysle sought Hannah out. ‘Bloody amazing,’ he boomed. ‘Can’t thank you enough. The traders should finally be happy we’ve kept to our agreements.’

  It was as if he’d never been rude or unfair. Hannah smiled sweetly, her mind more on the continued non-appearance of Nico and family than Christopher finally dismounting his high horse. She heard her name called for the hundredth time that day and hoped six p.m. would hurry up so she could call at Honeybun Cottage and check everything was OK.

  Nico’s day began badly.

  The girls had jumped in the bath together and he’d been sorting out clean towels when he’d heard Josie give a horrified squawk. ‘That’s my dad’s phone!’

  Nico whipped around but was too late to stop Maria scrubbing his phone industriously with a yellow, duck-shaped sponge.

  ‘I jus’ washing it!’ Maria protested indignantly, hiding the phone … underwater.

  Nico swallowed back the swear word on his lips. He’d left the phone on top of the cistern while he’d daydreamed about how much he missed Hannah after spending this last week with her and wondering when to reveal their altered status to Josie. ‘We don’t wash phones, sweetheart. It breaks them,’ he told Maria ruefully, retrieving his property and regarding the unresponsive screen. He knew the trick to drying out phones by sticking them in a packet of dry rice but he had to wait until the girls were dressed and the Tesco delivery – without rice – had arrived before they could buy some at the village shop, Josie in one of her talk-a-mile-a-minute moods and Maria yanking on her walking rein like a disobedient puppy. By the time they reached home again it was lunchtime. He sealed the phone in the rice without a great deal of hope it would fix it then made scrambled eggs, trying to be calm and cheerful as parents are meant to be.

  Without a working phone he couldn’t check how Lars was doing. Neither could he contact Hannah to say he’d decided to give the girls lunch at home rather than undergo Posh Nosh with the girls clamouring for sugary treats that would make them hyper, a stress he didn’t need even if accompanied by piped Christmas carols.

  He’d just finished washing up when a crescendo of bumps followed by howls sent him racing into the hall to find Maria at the foot of the stairs, nose pouring scarlet blood. Heart banging, he swooped her up and she clung to him. ‘Oh, baby girl, your poor little nose,’ he crooned, hurrying to soak kitchen towel in cold water to staunch the bleeding. At ice hockey they’d always pressed the cold towel to the bridge but Maria’s was such a button nose that he could only aim for the whole thing.

  ‘Nooooooo, noooooooo,’ she wailed, snatching her head from side to side and smearing his cream sweatshirt with blood. It took a long time for her to calm down while he soothed her against his shoulder, Josie saying, ‘Aw, poor Maria,’ and stroking her sister’s leg. He was wondering whether he should try and rock the toddler into a catnap, a well-known antidote to a biffed nose, when Josie gave a strangled gasp.

  ‘Uh, uh—’ Then, in a shriek, ‘MUMMEE!’

  Stomach dropping, Nico swung around still wearing Maria around his neck.

  Josie had run to the window and was waving, dancing, beaming and laughing.

  And through the glass he saw Vivvi and Loren coming up the short drive, clutching their coats close around them, Vivvi’s car parked in the lane across the gateway as if to prevent him escaping.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said aloud. Oh, shit, he thought. ‘This is a nice surprise, Josie, isn’t it?’ Why the hell isn’t Loren in rehab as she’s supposed to be? ‘Let Mum and Grandma in.’ Because I see no alternative.

  Loren stepped into his cosy, flagged kitchen bringing in the chill of the outside world. Vivvi followed, shutting the door without turning the handle so it banged like a prison door.

  Josie jigged before them, words flying from her mouth. ‘Mum, I didn’t know you were coming! We’ve just come back from Sweden. We baked with Farmor and Farfar was in hospital and Dad ice skated and we went to Skansen and there was snow!’

  Maria clung silently to Nico, gazing at the new arrivals, occasional hiccupping with the remains of her tear storm.

  Loren gazed at Nico. She was pinched, her eyes haunted, but her hair was clean and she wore make-up. So far as Nico could tell from where he stood, she didn’t smell of alcohol. ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hi.’ He looked past her. ‘Hello, Vivvi. Josie, how about you step back and give Mum space, sweetheart. Then she’ll have a chance to say hello to you.’

  Thus prompted, Loren turned her smile on Josie. ‘Hello, darling! Wow, I think you’ve grown. You’re so pretty.’ She swept Josie into a hug, curling around her with her cheek on the top of Josie’s head, making fond, ‘Mmm, mmm, mmm,’ noises.

  Vivvi hugged Josie in turn. ‘Mum’s right – you’ve grown.’

  When Loren said, ‘Maria! Darling!’ and held out her arms, Maria buried her face in Nico’s neck. ‘Noooooo.’

  Loren’s face went slack with shock.

  Nico soothed Maria’s back. ‘She’s banged her nose and she’s shaken up. Give her a minute.’ He slid an arm around Josie’s shoulders. ‘Shall we get drinks for Mum and Grandma? You could put biscuits out.’

  ‘Yeah!’ Josie hopped and skipped to the cupboard and took down a big plate.

  Nico attempted to put Maria down but she scrunched her arms and legs around him. ‘Noooooo!’

  So, employing the one-handed skills of a practised parent, he filled the kettle and took down coffee and mugs, beakers and juice.

  ‘One sugar for me, please,’ said Vivvi brightly, not lifting a finger.

  He halted. ‘Ah. Sorry. I don’t have any.’ He
wasn’t sure why he was apologising. He didn’t take sugar and his guests had arrived unannounced.

  Vivvi smiled. ‘Never mind. I have sweeteners in my bag.’ She wandered into the sitting room uninvited and Loren followed while he poured juice for Josie and juice with water for Maria.

  He couldn’t slosh boiling water about with Maria hanging on him like a misplaced backpack so he sat her on a chair. ‘Just while I do the hot water, OK?’ She nodded but put her arms out to him again the second he completed the task, just as Loren and Vivvi reappeared.

  ‘Bijou house,’ Loren commented.

  ‘Yep.’ He added milk to their coffee and set it on the table, gesturing to his guests to sit on the ‘glass’ chairs, some slobber-marked because Maria enjoyed squashing her face against them to peer through. He took Maria on his knee. Josie chose the seat next to his. She’d quietened now, drinking her juice and sending Nico questioning glances. He smiled reassuringly and patted her shoulder.

  ‘Redfern’s cheering up,’ Vivvi volunteered, as if Nico had asked after the health of his ex-father-in-law.

  ‘It’s good you feel comfortable to leave him,’ Nico commented.

  ‘Only because he’s gone to his brother’s house for the day.’ Vivvi answered so hastily she almost ran the entire sentence into one word.

  Nico nodded.

  Loren added her mite about how worried they’d been after her dad’s heart operation then Josie interrupted. ‘I’m starting a new school after Christmas. The sweatshirt’s burgundy.’

  ‘What was wrong with the old school?’ Loren asked in the tone she might have used if Josie had spent her pocket money on a new pen when she already had twenty in her pencil case.

  Josie frowned, glancing at Nico uncertainly. He said gently, ‘It’s OK to tell Mum how you feel.’

  The explanation Josie poured out about Mrs Calcashaw, the ‘wrong’ class and playground politics was rushed but no less than heartfelt.