If Every Day Was Christmas: A gorgeous and heart-warming Christmas romance

by Donna Ashcroft

  Lilith watched as Meg and Davey picked up the mops and began to wipe the floor, wringing out the water into the buckets before mopping again. The process was slow and laborious.

  ‘You’d better get on with fixing that pipe – the words “waste” and “time” are springing to mind,’ Davey told Tom, as more water leaked out to replace what he’d just mopped away.

  Tom put his toolbox onto the counter. ‘Show me the stopcock.’

  Lilith pointed to the cupboard under the sink.

  ‘I’ve switched it off – idiota thing doesn’t work.’ She turned and stared at Meg and Davey. ‘I don’t comprehend why you’re doing this. It’s cold and wet.’ She frowned at them both. ‘I’ll pay Tom, but you barely even know me.’

  ‘I don’t want money.’ Tom peered into the cupboard.

  Davey shrugged. ‘It’s called help… giving, offering help.’ He stumbled over the words and looked at her uncertainly. ‘Looking out… for each other, people.’ He swallowed as a tsunami of red swept up his face. ‘Don’t you… I mean, surely you do the same. In Italy? With your people, I mean your family?’

  ‘No,’ Lilith said darkly. ‘Not in my family. We look out for ourselves.’

  ‘Well… we do. We look out for each other here, in Lockton.’ His face was a picture of sympathy.

  ‘I still don’t understand. You could be drinking red wine in your pub.’ Lilith’s eyes flicked to Meg. ‘Playing with those pretty fairy lights you love, or spending time with your parents…’

  Tom fiddled with the stopcock, checking it was turned to the right. ‘This is for hot water. That leak’s cold. Are there any other taps like this in the kitchen?’

  Lilith pivoted on the spot so she could look around the room. ‘I would ask my assistant chef, but he’s staying away this evening. I only know about that one. The pipes were replaced about ten years ago when the previous owners built an extension. It could be in a different place.’

  ‘The store cupboard’s full of all sorts of things – I noticed a couple of taps on the wall behind where the mops were propped up,’ Meg said. She pointed behind her before going in to look. Tom followed, and found her leaning over so she could examine a knob sticking out of the wall more closely. She turned it anti-clockwise.

  ‘The leak’s stopped,’ Davey shouted. ‘Give me a sec.’ They waited. ‘Yep, no shower. You found it.’

  Meg stood and grinned at Tom, dusting her hands together. ‘Lucky I’m here. I’ve no idea what you’d have done without me.’ The cupboard was dim aside from a bright shaft of light from the torch. It lit her face, making the last remnants of glitter sparkle on her lips and nose. ‘If you need any other assistance, just give me a shout.’ Her eyes met his.

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ he said as his feet refused to move. He looked down at her. There was something about Meg that got to him. He really didn’t understand it. But then he’d never met a woman who dressed like an elf, was obsessed with Christmas and seemed incapable of not smiling, even when her world was upside down.

  She looked at him oddly, then pressed a hand to his chest and pushed gently, making his heart thump hard. ‘You need to move, that floor won’t mop itself.’ She smiled again. ‘You’ve been amazing tonight, helping me and then Lilith.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ Tom said, feeling awkward but pleased. He was used to compliments for his singing, fawning adoration for something he’d just been lucky enough to have a talent for. But this was different, because it felt real. An unexpected burst of pride warmed his chest. For the first time in a long time, someone had seen the man behind the famous face and liked him regardless. Would it be different if Meg knew who he was?

  ‘What are you doing in there?’ Davey shouted.

  ‘Nothing.’ Tom spun around and headed back into the kitchen. The water had stopped, so he made quick work of replacing the small section of pipe that had worn away. As he did, Meg and Davey continued to mop the grey tiled floor, wringing the water into the bucket and tipping it into the sink, as Lilith used a towel to finish up. When Tom was done, he switched the water back on.

  ‘Grazie. Grazie, all of you.’ Lilith shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you. That leak would have gone on all night. Flooded my hotel. My parents wouldn’t have been able to come for Christmas.’

  ‘That’s important? I mean, to you?’ Davey asked. He was still mopping the floor, but he stopped so he could look at her properly.

  ‘Sì.’ Lilith’s eyes shifted to Davey and she gave him a small smile. Then she waded through the few remaining puddles so she could check the cupboards as Tom packed his tools away. When she got to the fridge and freezer she opened them and frowned into the darkness. ‘What about these? I almost forgot. Can I put the electric back on?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘You said there was a bang. The circuit probably blew. You’ll need an electrician to look at it.’

  Lilith let out a gasp as she turned to gesticulate at the fridges. ‘But my food’s in there. Wine, ingredients, everything I need to feed my guests. I’ve only three people staying but it’ll get busier near Christmas. Don’t forget, the bands are staying here – I’ve been stocking up.’

  ‘The closest electrician is five miles outside Morridon. We can try him, although Cora says it’s hard to get hold of anyone at the moment.’ Meg checked her watch, screwing up her face when she registered the time. ‘Perhaps it would be better to leave it till the morning?’

  ‘I need help now.’ Lilith pulled out her mobile and scrawled through it, then quickly dialled. They watched as she squinted and listened to a message before hanging up. ‘He’s unavailable for the next few days, but he gave another number. I think I can remember it…’ She dialled the new number, listened again and hissed, her eyes flashing. ‘He’s busy too. Does no one in this place need the work?’ She threw up her arms. ‘What about all my food? It’s going to go bad.’

  ‘It’s probably the weather,’ Davey said calmly, morphing into the man Tom recognised. He knew that look from his own crisis, when Marnie had left and he’d discovered his grandmother had died. The way Davey had taken over, focusing on practicalities, helping him clear his house after the party, chucking out the random strangers who’d decided to stay, making him coffee before taking him to the hospital. ‘Bring everything to the pub,’ Davey suggested, pouring a final bucket into the sink before admiring the floor. He wiped it once more with the mop before leaning against one of the counters. ‘I’ve got plenty of room in my fridges.’ Tom noticed Davey didn’t look at Lilith – perhaps afraid he’d get tongue-tied? ‘There’s an empty one in my garage. I keep it for storing food and wine when we’re hosting events or are likely to be busy, like at Christmas.’ He made a face. ‘We haven’t begun to stockpile for that yet. Johnny was about to visit the cash and carry in Inverness but the weather turned too nasty. You can prepare meals in our kitchen, or Johnny can give you something from our menu to tide you over. Does the cooker work?’

  ‘Sì, it’s gas.’ Lilith took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I can use matches to light it. We can wash up by hand. I need lots of space for my ingredients.’

  Davey’s blue eyes sparkled. He looked like he was enjoying himself. ‘We have plenty.’

  Lilith frowned. ‘I don’t understand,’ she repeated. ‘But I will say grazie.’ Her eyes skirted the room, resting on Tom and then Meg. ‘For helping. I can’t say I’d have done the same for you.’ She pulled a face. ‘I don’t think I would. My family taught me different things. That the world is… I think your expression is dog eat dog?’ In the corner Cooper barked, reminding them all he was there.

  ‘Not in Lockton,’ Davey said, his voice warm with sympathy.

  ‘Shall we put the food into your car?’ Meg put the mop back into the cupboard and Davey opened the fridge so they could start to take out the ingredients. Tom watched with his heart in his throat, trying to hold on to this feeling. Because it felt good. And it was one of the first times in the last few years
that he’d begun to feel alive – aside from in that moment a few hours earlier when he’d been kissing Meg.

  Thirteen

  Tom was tired. He’d helped Davey, Meg and Lilith move supplies from the hotel to the pub and hadn’t arrived home until after midnight. Then he’d tossed and turned, his mind filled with Meg, and woken at dawn when Davey had called asking if he’d visit Morag to help with another emergency before coming to work. He rolled his shoulders as he took the road out of Lockton towards Inverness. He drove carefully, taking it slowly over the uneven white carpet, thanking his lucky stars that his car was able to handle the tough conditions. Over the last day the roads had become impassable once you got more than five miles outside the village, meaning Lockton was almost cut off. Last night, Davey had confided he’d begun to worry about the bands making it to the concert, although he’d heard the weather was due to take a turn for the better soon. Tom had considered offering to stand in for a nanosecond, before stopping that thought. If he picked up the guitar, he was afraid he’d lose himself. Worse, Meg and the rest of Lockton would find out who he was and they’d start treating him differently. Seeing the fame and what he could give, rather than the man he was trying to be. Then he’d have to move on… just when he was starting to wonder if he’d found somewhere he could stay for a while.

  Tom parked outside a double-fronted cottage with a white picket fence and large garden. A wooden gate – which sat just off-centre of the fence and opened to what Tom presumed was a pathway to the front door – had been propped up. There were knitted Christmas decorations hanging across the facade of the house, with gaps where pieces were missing. Tom squinted out of the windscreen and saw Morag peering through one of the front windows of the house, waving to him. It felt good riding to the rescue, knowing that what he did meant something.

  Morag opened the door and motioned to Tom again. Behind him Cooper sprang up and pressed his nose to the glass. Tom hopped out of the car, unfastening the boot to pick up his toolbox, then opened the back door and ordered Cooper out. The dog obeyed, but complained when his paws hit the snow.

  Morag met Tom when he was halfway across her garden. She’d pulled on a big bright pink coat which was buttoned to her chin, and a mismatched green bobble hat with purple gloves. She looked more like a rainbow than a person. Cooper bounded up to her, and she gave him a scratch on the head. ‘Took your time.’

  ‘Sorry. Is the gate the emergency?’ Tom scoured the large garden, which was overrun with snow and ice.

  ‘Aye. Some eejit knocked it down. Broke the hinges to boot. If I don’t get it back on, I’ll get all sorts of things wandering into my garden.’ She scowled at the ground. ‘There are bulbs down there. I don’t want a load of dunderhead critters wandering in and turning them into a slap-up meal.’

  ‘I’ll get started.’ Tom studied the gate. It was an easy fix and wouldn’t take long.

  ‘You should come inside first. I’ve made coffee and cake, and we’ll have a wee dram of whisky to warm us.’ She narrowed her eyes, challenging him to refuse. ‘It’ll fortify your bones before you come back out.’ Her eyes skidded to the gap where the gate should have been. ‘Vandals. It was snowing all night so I can’t find any footprints. You just wait until I learn who those halfwits are, they’ll wish they’d never been born.’ She shook her head before heading into the house.

  Morag pulled off her coat, hat and gloves and placed them on a hanger in the large hallway. She waited for Tom to do the same – his coat had a smidgen of glitter on the collar and Morag spotted it before giving Tom a smile. ‘She’s a good lassie, you make sure you take care of her.’

  ‘Um, it’s not—’ Tom started, wondering if he was lying to himself. If so, he had a lot to think about. He couldn’t keep the truth from Meg forever.

  ‘If it’s not, lad, you’re a bigger fool than you look.’ Morag shook her head as the ginger tabby cat from Meg’s shop bounded in to join them, and Cooper grunted, dropping to his haunches, intent on making friends.

  ‘Aye, the kitty is a doll, and I have Meg to thank for that.’ Morag pointed to a door. ‘Go in there, I’ll bring the drinks. Zora, come to the kitchen, and you follow us, boy.’ She motioned to Cooper who was wagging his tail. ‘I’ve a special treat in the kitchen. My Petra died in March but I’ve still got a packet of her favourite biscuits.’ The dog went with her and the cat happily trotted after them both.

  Tom headed into the small sitting room. There was a fire burning in a fireplace on the far wall with two wooden high-backed chairs in front. They had pink cushions on the seats, and a large coffee table piled with magazines sat in between them. The mantelpiece was cluttered with cards and fairy lights. To its right, a small Christmas tree with hand-knitted decorations gleamed on a table. There was a dresser on the left-hand wall, filled with mismatched pottery, a few pieces of which looked like they’d been painted by a child. Tom sank into a chair and pushed his toes into the fluffy white rug on the floor. He checked out the cosy room until his eyes rested on the coffee table and mountain of magazines. He recognised the name of the top one immediately. Sizzle was well known for spreading salacious gossip. It was the same magazine Meg had picked up that day in the post office, and Tom had wondered at that moment if she’d recognised him. But there’d been no hint of recognition or a barrage of questions, and he’d decided he was just being paranoid. Especially when she’d continued to keep him at arm’s length.

  Morag’s issue was dated January three years ago and had a picture of Marnie on the front – and another of Tom standing by his grandfather, shielding both their faces from the camera. His heart sank when he heard Morag’s footsteps. She was carrying a tray, which she put on the coffee table.

  She eyed the magazine, and pointed to a mug and one of the china plates. ‘Coffee with a dash of whisky, a slice of chocolate cake and a packet of those dog biscuits for you to take home. I had another spare in the back of the cupboard.’ Tom put the magazine back onto the table and picked up the drink, taking a huge sip. It was hot and the whisky went straight to his stomach before seeping out to his limbs. ‘You found my magazines then?’ Morag took the seat opposite. ‘I get them for my shop and always save one. I reread some of the issues when I’m bored. They’re popular. I have to admit, it’s not every day I find one of my neighbours on the cover.’ Cooper came to stand beside the coffee table, and let out a soft bark as he stared at their cakes. ‘Not for you, laddie,’ Morag said. The dog slumped onto the floor and she smiled. ‘He’s a good boy, clever. He’s been an absolute angel with Zora.’

  Tom let out a quiet huff, unsure of how to respond to the comment about the magazine. His heart thumped. If Morag told everyone in Lockton who he was, he’d have to leave, find somewhere else to spend December. He couldn’t face all that attention. What would Meg think? Would it change the way she looked at him? Would she be attracted to the glitter of fame just like Marnie, and would the genuine affection between them disappear?

  ‘You can take that look off your face. Lucky for you, my Christmas Promise was to give up gossiping for December.’ Morag sipped from her dainty pink cup. ‘Which means if you’re concerned about everyone finding out who you are, you can relax.’ She winked, letting her eyes drop back to Cooper.

  Tom waited for the inquisition. The questions about his music and why he’d left. He could feel the tension across his shoulders and tried to chill. Instead, Morag’s eyes rested on his dog. ‘I’ve been thinking of adopting another to go with the cat. Where did you get him?’

  ‘Dog rescue,’ Tom said, still expecting an onslaught. When Morag’s eyes slid to his, he braced.

  ‘I hear you’re good at fixing things and you helped young Lilith out last night.’ When Tom looked surprised, she added, ‘I may not be gossiping, laddie, but I’ve still got ears and an intelligence network that MI5 would be proud of.’ She gave him a smile which lit her face. Her brown eyes studied him and Tom tried not to squirm. ‘Did you learn a trade before you got yourself involved in all tha
t music nonsense?’

  Tom nodded. ‘I learned from my grandfather. He’s a handyman. He fixes things even now and he’s over eighty.’

  Morag squinted. ‘Aye. It’s good to be clever with your hands.’ Her forehead creased. ‘I’ve no idea why you’ve decided not to tell anyone who you are, but I’d advise you to come clean sooner rather than later. Some folk might consider withholding those kinds of facts as fibbing.’

  Tom thought about Meg and he shuffled in his chair, feeling uncomfortable. ‘I’d rather keep it to myself,’ he said quietly. ‘I got fed up with being fawned over. It’s good being known as the bloke who serves drinks and mends things. Being famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not moaning,’ he added quickly. ‘I know how lucky I was. But people do far more important things than make up songs and get a lot less credit for it.’

  Morag considered him. ‘Well, if you’re interested in my opinion, I hate that awful Christmas song you wrote – switch the radio off every time it comes on. So there’ll be no fawning from me. You should try rock, or some jazz.’ Her expression turned wistful. ‘Agnes swears by Simple Minds. Now that’s real music. You should give it a try.’

  Tom barked out a laugh, delighted by her reaction. ‘I’ll bear that in mind, Morag,’ he said, still chuckling. ‘Although I’ve put my musical days behind me. I’m enjoying fixing things. Being the man who can.’

  She nodded, her expression softening. ‘There’s a power in helping people. A power in putting things right. You’re smart to recognise it. Too many people in this world prancing around, expecting to be admired for the wrong stuff.’

  Tom grimaced. ‘I was one of them.’

  Her face darkened. ‘But it’s important to know yourself, to recognise what you need to be content. I understand why you don’t want to be famous, but don’t turn away from the things that make you happy. Do that and you might find you end up with nothing. Perhaps it’s possible to have a little of both?’