by Clare Lydon
She turned it towards Ruby. “When was this done?”
“The second year of the festival, so 11 years ago.”
“Did Anna say yes?”
Ruby laughed. “She did, otherwise we might have taken that down. Anna is now a Beverton, and the Beverton family do this tree every year.” She pointed to the pot at the bottom of the tree. “You see the theme at the bottom? Horses.” Ruby pointed upwards. “Also, the saddle and riding crop on the top is a bit of a giveaway. Three years ago their theme was London and it won. They went to town with tiny black cabs, The London Eye, Buckingham Palace, every royal figurine they could lay their hands on. Their granddad even made a Tower of London for the top.”
Fran grinned. “I love themed trees. They should be everywhere!” She gave the nearest branches a shake, and snow fell off. It didn’t need much. This tree was weather-ready. Well done to the Bevertons. This was not their first Christmas tree rodeo.
“You should see my favourite. It’s tucked away behind Mistletoe Stores. The theme is Downhill Skier. It’s by the local printing company, and they’ve turned the tree into just that, with skis, a face, even goggles and crazy hair. I saw it this morning. It’s amazing.”
The next tree — with a theme of film — needed more work. Ruby shook it vigorously, got covered again, then together they cleared the branches as high as they could reach. Fran stood back as Ruby gave it one last shake that dislodged the snow from the clapperboard tree-topper. Luckily, the tree-topper stayed attached. After they’d tackled tree four (theme: wine), and Ruby had ticked it off her list, she messaged her brother to see if anything else needed to be done.
His message back was quick. Ruby let out a cute bark of laughter.
Fran frowned. Cute? Since when was Ruby’s laugh cute? Since now, apparently.
“Scott says to bring the food.” Ruby went to walk right, then stopped and hit her forehead. “Shit, I was about to walk. I forgot we need the van.” Ruby nodded towards the farm. “Shall we?”
Fran twisted on her foot and walked back down the slight incline, tilting her head to the clear sky above. Everything about Mistletoe was bright white, like someone had just applied a fresh coat of emulsion. The roads, the trees, the houses, the sky. Even the sharp air around her ears crackled white. The stillness was what got her, too. Her dads had said it had taken some getting used to, but now, they slept like gods.
They crunched back towards the farm.
Fran walked past the farm’s hedge, which was handily at hand height. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and scooped a pile of snow into her gloves. It packed down easily. Then she turned, and flung it at Ruby. It hit the back of her head.
Ruby stopped walking, put a hand to her hat and turned. She shook her head. “Did you just throw a snowball at me?” Her tone was incredulous. “You, the townie, want to take on the country girl?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, then ran to the other side of the road and grabbed some snow. “Big mistake, townie. Big mistake.”
Before Fran knew what was happening, a snowball hit her head. Then another. She rushed to make some more, but Ruby was on a different snowball-making level to her. For every one Fran made, Ruby made three. Possibly ten. Shit, Fran was buggered, wasn’t she?
Her only choice was to run. She broke into a jog, as snowballs hit her back and neck, cold penetrating to her skin. Fran shivered.
“No running! Against the rules!” Ruby shouted.
Ahead was the farm’s entrance, where they’d piled the big mound of snow earlier after clearing the paths. Fran reached it just as she heard Ruby’s footsteps screech to a halt behind her. Before she knew what was happening, Ruby’s arms were around her waist.
Fran wasn’t prepared for this to be a contact sport and fell sideways into the mound of snow.
Ruby fell on top of her with an audible ‘oomph’.
There was silence as they both lay there, on a duvet of snow, with body warmth alone for heat.
Fran opened her eyes.
Ruby was staring at her, a surprised look on her face. Her eyes travelled down Fran’s face, then her breath stilled.
A little like the moment between them.
A jolt of feeling hit Fran in the chest and melted through her veins, until it landed heavily in her stomach. She took in Ruby’s rosy cheeks and her sparkling emerald eyes, before dropping to her lips. They were oval, glossy and inviting. If she pushed herself up, she could press her lips to Ruby’s. Fran bet they tasted divine.
But then she blinked. What the hell was she thinking? She shook herself internally, ground her teeth together and flicked her gaze away. To anywhere but Ruby’s face.
Ruby might be beautiful, talented and lying on top of her, but kissing Ruby was never going to happen. It couldn’t. They’d only just got back on an even keel.
Plus, Ruby was the enemy.
A singer.
Only, with her full weight on top of Fran and a hungry look in her eye, Ruby didn’t feel like Fran’s enemy. Plus, was Ruby’s gaze lingering on Fran’s lips, too?
It was all far too confusing for this early on a Saturday morning.
“You know that falling over is conceding, right?” As Ruby tried to get up, she leaned in that little bit closer to get her balance right. As she did, her mouth stopped inches from Fran’s.
Something flickered on Ruby’s face.
Something Fran couldn’t quite work out.
Was it the same thing still flickering inside Fran? She closed her eyes and hoped it would make her brain quit working overtime.
Ruby took a deep breath and pushed herself up. Then she held out a hand.
Fran took it, then a zap of heat fizzed up her arm. She ignored it, along with the slight shake in her body. Instead, she hauled herself up and brushed herself down. The cold wasn’t bothering her anymore. Not now her internal flame was firing on all cylinders.
Ruby nodded towards the van, avoiding Fran’s gaze. “Shall we get the food to the hungry hordes?”
Chapter 11
“What about this one?” Dad stood in the Christmas tree barn, next to the tree of his choice. He grabbed one of the branches and rested it above his eye, then wiggled it up and down. “Does it look good on me?”
Pop laughed. “Like you were made for each other.” He turned to Fran. “What do you think?”
Fran was really trying not to roll her eyes. She wasn’t too old to be embarrassed by her parents. “It’s green and looks like a tree. If you like it, get it.”
Dad shook his head. “Where did we go wrong, Dale? We raised a loving, caring, creative daughter, and then she ran off to London and came back impervious to Christmas or Christmas trees.” He put both hands to his chest, then doubled over. “It’s like a dagger to our gay hearts.”
Pop pouted. “I agree with your dad. A Christmas tree is not just a tree. It’s a family member. A choice. It’s a feeling.”
Fran widened her eyes. “Have you two been drinking?”
“Nope. We just spent yesterday shovelling snow with Scott, and he schooled us. Plus, we live in Mistletoe now. You have to love Christmas and everything about it.” Dad stood straight, and put his arm around the tree. “So, I ask again. Me and Clarice the Christmas tree. Love match, or not?”
Fran couldn’t help laughing. Her parents were so much more playful since moving here. She liked it. She wasn’t going to stand in their way. “Definite love match.”
Dad gave her a grin, Pop put his arm around her, and together they carried the tree over to the checkout, currently staffed by Mary. The back barn that housed the trees was a mass of activity, showing the Tree Contest and Treasure Hunt had worked their magic. When Fran looked left, Eric was chatting to a family about their tree. Over towards the back, Paul patted a particularly statuesque variety: the Peter Crouch of trees. Fran scanned the rest of the area, but she couldn’t spot Ruby.
Fran was heading back to London tomorrow. By train, as her car still wasn’t ready, and the garage couldn’t say when it w
ould be.
Fran would never admit it out loud, but she was sad to be leaving. This weekend had been a case study in community and team spirit, something London was severely lacking. Yes, Mistletoe didn’t even have a pub or a restaurant, but it had heart and it had soul. You couldn’t buy that.
It also had Ruby, who Fran had woken up thinking about this morning. Who had kept jumping to the front of her mind when her dads made her breakfast, and chattered excitedly about their festive plans. Fran had made the decision not to come home this Christmas. To stay in London and catch up on work. However, now she’d immersed herself in Mistletoe, she was beginning to question her logic. Was work the most important thing? Her dads didn’t seem to think so, even though they were being understanding. They always were.
Ruby certainly didn’t think work came first.
Fran wanted to find her to say goodbye. To tell Ruby she was starting to thaw towards Christmas, and towards her. However, she was still having trouble processing that in her own mind. She glanced around the barn one more time. Still no Ruby.
“Hello, lovely neighbours!” Mary took the tree from Dad like it weighed nothing. She gave it a forceful shake, and some pine needles fell to the floor. “The classic Norway spruce, good choice. It’s already been through the tree shaker to get rid of any creepy-crawlies, but I like to give it one last go.” Mary grinned, then heaved the tree into the netting machine.
Dad hurried around the other side, before pulling it out and hugging it. “We’ve called her Clarice. Good name, Mary? What do you think?”
Mary took Pop’s money, and gave Dad a smile. “I was just going to say, she looks like a Clarice. She’s going to be a wonderful addition to the family.”
Fran bit down a comment. Everybody in this town was Christmas crazy. It was an epidemic.
“Ruby’s in the barn shop, in case you were wondering,” Mary told her.
Could she read Fran’s mind? She was in trouble if Mary could.
“Great,” Fran replied, like it meant nothing.
“Come along to The Bar later if you’re free and still here? There’s a village drinks as soon as the festival’s over. Everyone should be there by seven. I’ve made more mince pies.”
No doubt Mary was up at 5am again. That seemed to be standard in Mistletoe. Her dads had been up for two hours when Fran appeared this morning at 9am. “Country air, makes you want to make the most of it,” Pop had told her.
“We’ll try to stop by.” Fran glanced at her parents. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, but there’s time for a drink.”
“Always time for a drink with friends,” Mary said, glancing at the next customer who’d just walked up behind Dad. “Don’t forget the Christmas Tree Contest ceremony at 4pm in the courtyard!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dad replied.
Twilight had arrived by the time of the contest winner announcement, but that only added to the farm’s atmosphere. Santa was drinking a hot chocolate by the stage. Fire pits made out of old washing machine drums were scattered around the courtyard for warmth. The mulled wine and hot dog stands helped with that, too. Meanwhile, every fairy light in the country appeared to have got the invite, and the Christmas trees in each corner were working their magic.
In the centre, Paul was on stage, microphone in hand. “Testing, testing.” He tapped the top of the mic. “One, two, Mistletoe.”
Fran had heard many soundchecks in her life, but never one like that.
Ruby rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “He does that every year. I used to get so embarrassed as a kid. Now, when I’m mic-checking, it’s what I do, too. Testing, testing. One, two, Mistletoe.”
“I’ll remember to look out for that at your next gig.” Fran stamped her feet against the cold. When they’d been busy earlier, the cold had been kept at bay. However, standing around was a different story.
Ruby glanced at her, went to say something, then stopped. She bit her lip, then took a breath. “Are you coming to The Bar later? Mum’s made mince pies. Audrey’s made sausage rolls. It’s going to be a spread of beige food, the likes of which would cause London to have a cardiac.”
“We’re coming. Your mum told us about it earlier.”
“Great.”
Fran moved her mouth left, then right. “Who’s won, by the way?”
“I can’t tell you that. Let’s just say, it’s not a million miles away from my favourite. In fact, it might even be that one.” She leaned in closer, putting her mouth by Fran’s ear. “The downhill skier,” she whispered. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
Ruby’s breath tickled Fran’s ear, and the tingle that ensued zipped down her body. Fran kept a straight face, then mimed zipping up her lips and throwing away the key. Her heart clattered in her chest. Fran just about held it together, pulling her shoulders back to stand as tall as she could muster. A little like a baby Christmas tree. “Just as a matter of curiosity, what’s the punishment of giving away the result? Has anyone ever done it?”
Ruby grinned. “Mum did once. She was chatting to a customer, and it just popped out. Dad didn’t speak to her for two days. Just tutted. If you want to avoid Paul’s tutting, best to play dumb.”
“Gotcha.” Fran nodded towards the mulled wine stand. Her pulse was still thumping. “Can I get you a mulled wine? Or is drinking on the job discouraged?”
“When I’m not being paid, I make my own rules. I’d love one.”
Fran nodded. “Two mulled wines, coming up.”
“Another beer, Michael?” Sue asked.
Dad glanced over to Pop, then at Fran. “Can we stay for one more?”
Fran nodded. “Have another beer.” She should go, but she was having a good time. Plus, her dads didn’t have to rush home for anything. This was what they’d moved for. Community and a more relaxed way of life.
“Two more beers for Michael and Dale, please Eric!” Sue shouted over to the bar.
Plus, Fran was sat next to Ruby, with the warmth of Ruby’s thigh seeping through Fran’s jeans.
Fran glanced down the bench, checking the space available. Yes, there were four of them sitting on it, but it was plenty big enough. Ruby didn’t have to sit this close to her, but she chose to.
Her proximity made Fran’s stomach tighten. She had no desire to stop this night, or this whole weekend. She wanted to stretch it out like a hot marshmallow. Tomorrow she had to go back to London. She didn’t want to think about it.
“Did everyone get their crackers this weekend, too? Because we sold out, did we tell you? All that slave labour from your children paid off, didn’t it, parents?” Victoria took a slug of her lager and lime.
“It did.” Paul raised his pint of Guinness to her. “I hope you’re looking forward to making more.”
“I got my crackers,” Audrey said. “I hope there are some good gifts in there. Not just a nail file or a pack of tiny cards. I want a mini vibrator or a glittery pan scourer. Something practical I can truly use.”
Ruby spluttered into her wine.
“Don’t get those two mixed up, Audrey,” Mary said. “Could lead to all sorts of injuries.”
Ruby got her breath back. “Stop it, you two. I needed to swallow, not spit.”
Now the whole table collapsed in giggles.
“Honestly.” Ruby rolled her eyes. “You’re all terrible.” She gestured towards Dad. “Michael bought two packs of crackers, along with a gargantuan tree. Looks like you’re going all out for Christmas.”
Dad nodded, making room for Eric to put their beers on the table. “We are. My sister might be coming with her two daughters, but she’s still in two minds. Now, if we could just persuade Fran to be there, too, it would be complete.”
Fran wriggled in her seat. “It’s why I’m here this weekend, because I said I’d work through Christmas. You said you were fine with me not being there.”
Mary was having none of it. “Francesca.” She turned to her dads. “Do you call her Francesca when she really ne
eds to listen to you?”
They both nodded.
“In that case, I’ll carry on. Francesca.” She reached over and took Fran’s hands in hers. “I know we had this chat once before. But that was when you first arrived. Now, I hope you understand Mistletoe that little bit more. We’re about sharing Christmas. About everyone mucking in and helping out. Family and friends. It’s not just another day. It’s a time when we all get together to celebrate our year and feel the love in the room. You should come home. We’ve only known you for a couple of months, but it won’t be the same without you.”
Fran gulped, as eight pairs of eyes fixed on her.
She took her hands back as Mary released them. A flush started in her core, and worked its way up her body. Fran chewed on the inside of her cheek.
The problem was, her new friends didn’t know her work commitments. She had so much to get through before Christmas and beyond. Plus, she’d promised her boss she’d make a start on next year’s plans over the festive break. She couldn’t change now even if she wanted to. From the mix of emotions churning through Fran’s body, part of her clearly did. This village dream wasn’t only pulling at her parents’ heart strings.
Fran was about to reply when a warm hand took hers under the table and squeezed.
She froze, her neck rigid.
The hand was attached to the person on Fran’s left.
Either that, or Audrey has freakishly long arms.
But no. The hand was Ruby’s.
Ruby was telling her it was okay. That she understood.
In that moment, it meant so much.
Fran gulped again before she spoke, keeping hold of Ruby’s hand. It was a welcome anchor in a choppy moment.