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

by Donna Ashcroft

  ‘Hello, laddie.’ The man held out a hand. ‘I’m PC Dougall, or Marcus when I’m not in uniform. I heard you were visiting from the Lockton grapevine – that is, from my wife, Cora.’ He beamed. ‘Cora mentioned you were with Meg when she found those baubles under the Promise Tree…’ He checked his pad. ‘Six days ago?’ Tom nodded.

  ‘Right he was.’ Agnes’s green eyes flashed with annoyance. ‘Seems to me we’ve got a plague of crime this festive season. People have been talking about decorations being torn down and disappearing all over the village. Question is, what are you going to do about it, Marcus? CCTV, or do you want some of us villagers to patrol the area in packs?’

  Marcus sighed and tapped a pencil against his mouth, before sweeping his attention across the front of the pub. From here, Tom could see another half-dozen baubles lying in the snow, a series of green and red blobs. None of them looked broken, but judging by the spaces on the walls, they’d been knocked off. ‘Investigations are ongoing, Agnes. I don’t think we need further help at this point. I’ve interviewed all the teenagers in Lockton and they’re as shocked about this as you. There are a few rentals I haven’t been to yet, but I’ll go when the snow’s cleared. I’m just not sure what the motive is. An obsession with sparkly things, or a dislike of Christmas?’ His attention darted to Tom, curious and piercing. ‘Cora told me you’re not very keen on the season?’

  Tom opened his mouth.

  ‘The laddie’s fine, Marcus. He’s been fixing things all over town. He isn’t your vandal. Don’t go looking for trouble in the wrong places. This’ll be something else.’ Agnes’s expression darkened. ‘I’ve still got my suspicions about ghosts…’

  Marcus raised a bushy grey eyebrow. ‘Whatever it is, it needs to stop,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken photographs, and I’ll bag these lights and take them to the station.’ He pulled a plastic bag and some gloves from his pocket, before bending to pick up the lights, shoving them into the bag. ‘I’ve already dusted for fingerprints. Best thing you can do is keep your ears and eyes open. I’ll keep you posted.’ He swept his gaze down the street. ‘We don’t get much crime in Lockton. I’m not going to let it continue – especially if it interferes with the fundraising for the village hall roof. How are the concert plans coming along?’ His attention fixed on Tom again.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, surprised. In truth, he’d been keeping away from the whole affair. ‘I’m not sure…’

  ‘They’re coming along fine, Marcus,’ Agnes interjected. ‘Davey said the bands have worked out their sets ready for next week, and Morag told me we’ve almost sold out of tickets, despite the snow. Johnny’s sorted the menu for the night and’ – her eyes slid to Tom – ‘I hear you’re going to set up the marquee soon, and Grant’s serviced all the heaters.’ He nodded; Davey had mentioned something in passing. ‘We’ve plenty of chairs in the village hall for the crowd.’

  ‘Cora says you might be playing – I heard you’re good on the guitar?’ Marcus had dark blue eyes which were a little too penetrating.

  ‘Um.’ Tom’s heartbeat picked up a notch.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Agnes patted his shoulder. ‘That’ll be the Lockton grapevine. I think Meg’s sister mentioned something in the cafe about you having a go on her guitar. No one’s expecting you to perform. Being in the limelight isn’t for everyone.’ She shot him an understanding look which made him feel like a fraud.

  ‘I’ll be helping at the bar – I’m not planning on getting on stage.’ Even if the thought of performing sent a shiver of excitement down his arms.

  Marcus nodded. ‘Let me know if you see any more of this.’ He pointed to the baubles. ‘We don’t want vandals ruining the concert. I’ll keep you informed of any developments.’ He gave Agnes a reassuring pat on the back and headed back up the high street towards Meg’s Christmas shop.

  ‘I’ll help tidy up.’ Agnes shot Tom a smile and bent to pick up the decorations.

  Tom set the bag of wood on the pavement and helped. It took a few minutes to rehang them but they were left with two empty hooks. He checked his watch. ‘I’d better get back to work. The pub opens soon.’

  Agnes gave him a wink. ‘See you later then, laddie, I’ll be back in this evening with Fergus for one of those cocktails. You’d better fill Davey in on what happened here. Perhaps you should pop in later for a chat with Meg.’ She winked. ‘I’m not matchmaking, but I’ve a feeling about you two…’

  ‘I think you’re mistaken,’ Tom said, wondering again if he was lying to himself.

  Sixteen

  Davey and Lilith were giggling when Tom returned to the kitchen. He stood by the door, out of sight, waiting for an opportunity to interrupt. In front of the couple sat piles of chopped vegetables. Lilith drew a bottle of oil from a large bag and waved it in front of Davey. ‘I have a little of my Bellagamba left.’ She held the small glass bottle up to the light, and even from this distance, Tom could see there was only a dribble in there. It looked thick, golden and expensive. ‘I thought I’d use it for the soup – there’s not enough for much else.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘I heard from the electrician that he won’t be coming to the hotel for at least another day because of the weather. With that and my oil not arriving, I feel like my parents’ visit is going to be a disaster.’ She puffed air into her cheeks before letting it out slowly.

  ‘It’s important to you?’ Davey asked. ‘Them visiting? I mean, I imagine it is…’ He exhaled and tapped his long fingers on the counter. ‘Johnny and I, we lost our parents a few years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lilith said.

  Davey shrugged. ‘It’s just the two of us now. But I know how important family is. You must miss them?’

  ‘I…’ Lilith frowned. ‘I haven’t been in Scotland for that long so I’ve not had time to miss them yet.’ She gave him a half-laugh. ‘They wanted to wait until I’d found my feet before they came.’

  ‘They must be very proud,’ Davey said. ‘Owning and running Lockton Hotel, that’s impressive.’ The cooking and time alone must have helped him relax, because he seemed less tongue-tied and awkward now.

  Lilith shrugged. ‘They bought the hotel for me.’ She looked embarrassed. ‘I ran a small deli near our home before. It was just outside Rome and I loved it, but…’ Her lips thinned. ‘Papa wanted to sell. He was offered a lot of money for the lease, and…’ She shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘It was good business. He thought the hotel would be a chance for me to prove myself. My family are very successful. My brother’ – she pronounced the word with a sharp edge that made her sound annoyed – ‘runs his own chain of restaurants in Rome – he’s a very big deal. He started the deli and turned it into a thriving business before I took it on.’

  ‘He sounds impressive too,’ Davey observed, no doubt reading a lot into Lilith’s admission. Tom had too. He understood about living up to something – it was easy to let the whole thing turn into an obsession.

  ‘He is, very. Handsome as well, with a beautiful wife and three bellissima bambinos.’ Lilith nodded a few times, as if she were counting his accomplishments. ‘My sister too – she is brilliant, beautiful, with a sharp wit. So, I want everything to be perfect when my parents arrive.’ She wagged a finger at the pan.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be proud of what you’ve achieved.’ Davey turned so he could look at her properly. Tom stayed where he was, caught between wanting to listen and not wanting to disturb the moment. He knew how Davey felt about Lilith – this was the first time his friend had been able to string a complete sentence together in her presence.

  She puffed out her cheeks again. ‘I’m hoping they’ll…’ She sighed. ‘Well, see what I’m capable of at least.’ She gave him a dazzling smile which looked a little fake. ‘Otherwise Papa may want me to sell and I’ll have to search for a new opportunity. I suppose I might enjoy having a deli again.’

  ‘Oh…’ Davey looked crestfallen. ‘So the hotel still belongs to your parents?’

  Lilith pulled a face. ‘It’s m
ine, but they’re very involved.’ She forced out a small smile. ‘If the hotel doesn’t do well, they want me to hire a manager with experience so I can learn. It’s something we are due to discuss on their visit. As Papa keeps reminding me’ – she made quote marks with her long fingers – ‘there is no room for emotion in business – or life.’ She frowned.

  ‘That’s…’ Davey’s forehead wrinkled as he searched for the right word. ‘Tough.’

  ‘It’s all I’ve ever known.’ Lilith’s expression darkened as he studied her. ‘I need to sauté these vegetables in some of this oil.’ She turned away and heaved the large pan onto the hob, before flicking on the gas and picking up a wooden spoon from one of the drawers. She poured in the remainder of the oil. ‘Would you watch it for me while I go to my car? I’ve left some fresh herbs in the boot. The dish won’t be the same without them.’

  ‘I can go?’ Davey offered, looking pointedly at her shoes.

  ‘No. I’m more comfortable doing things for myself.’

  Davey watched her leave and Tom stepped out of the shadows just as Johnny appeared from behind him. ‘Has the Italian beauty gone already?’ Johnny sniffed and looked in the pan. ‘That oil smells so good…’ He winked at Davey. ‘The cook’s almost as irresistible. You falling for her now you’ve had some time alone?’

  ‘I…’ Davey brushed a hand across his brow. ‘I wasn’t sure when she first arrived, but she’s really great.’

  ‘You look worried.’ Johnny leaned against the counter and folded his arms. They were twins – not identical, but their hair and eyes were the same colour and they had almost exactly the same expressions.

  ‘Lilith’s parents bought her the hotel,’ Davey said, his voice low. ‘If this Christmas doesn’t go well, if I’m reading things correctly, they might make her take on a manager or even sell up.’ He patted his fingers on the counter, looking annoyed. ‘I wish there was some way I could help. She’s not having the best luck. Perhaps she could get more involved in the concert and I could pay her to do that, buoy her up to her parents when they arrive…’

  ‘Are you in rescuing mode again, Davey?’ Johnny asked, his tone light, but Tom could tell there was a subtext to the words which were a lot more serious. ‘I thought you’d got over that since leaving London.’

  ‘Lilith doesn’t need rescuing – she’s about as helpless as a tiger shark.’ Davey turned away from his brother, pulled another pan from the cupboard then thumped it onto the counter.

  ‘I’m not interfering, mate,’ Johnny said. ‘I just don’t want to see you get hurt. There was a long line of women in London you spent your life trying to save, remember. The one thing they all had in common was that once you had, they left you high and dry.’ He shrugged. ‘Or the relationship didn’t work out once the drama was over. I don’t want to see you get used again.’

  The groove in Davey’s forehead deepened. ‘This isn’t the same…’

  ‘You’ve helped with Lilith’s kitchen emergency, loaned her ours, she’s using the fridges. Now you’re cooking together and talking about the problems she has with her parents – and again you want to help. Don’t get me wrong.’ Johnny held up a hand to stop any protest. ‘We’d do the same for anyone. It’s a way of life in Lockton. But make sure you’re not mistaking a woman in need for something else. I know how soft your heart is, I know you like her, but you’ve been taken advantage of too many times.’

  ‘This isn’t the same.’

  ‘I’m just going to say the name Crystal Armitage and leave it at that.’ Johnny’s eyes flicked to Tom’s. ‘She got her hooks into Davey – mined him for every contact in the music business he had while she stayed in the basement flat in his town house.’ He made quote marks with his fingers. ‘Because her evil boyfriend had kicked her out and her mean, horrible parents hated her. Turns out, they all got fed up with her using them and wanted her to stand on her own two feet.’ Johnny shook his head slowly. ‘She was that desperate to make a name for herself.’ Davey’s lips thinned. ‘I’m not saying Lilith is Crystal, but you need to be careful. That woman used everything you gave her, and when she got her first music contract, she left and didn’t look back. Not even to say thank you.’ Johnny turned to Tom. ‘She was the final straw for him in London – the reason he left the business when he did.’

  Tom had always wondered what the story was. Davey had been at the peak of his career. Then he’d suddenly retired and bought the pub in Lockton, changed his whole life. In many ways it was a mirror of his own journey. Except Davey deserved better.

  ‘I’d been thinking about coming up to Scotland for a while,’ Davey began. ‘But she wasn’t the first person to take advantage, you’re right. It was a pattern I’d fallen into. But it’s a very different thing offering to help someone out when their kitchen has flooded, to being expected to launch a stranger’s career. Lilith’s not like that.’

  ‘Sì,’ Lilith said from the doorway, her eyes dark and her lips turned down. ‘I’m not.’ She took a deep breath and flashed a megawatt smile in Johnny and Davey’s direction. ‘So, shall we finish this soup so I can get out of your way?’

  Tom crunched through the snow on his way home from the pub at the end of his shift six hours later. It was early evening and the sun had set a while ago, but there was enough light from the moon and brightness from the snow that he didn’t have to worry about using a torch. It was cold though. He pulled his coat tighter and patted his arms. He still had to walk Cooper when he got home. He could see tall trees in the moonlight, their branches laden with ice, and the jagged tips of mountains on the horizon. He’d left the lights on in the cottage when he’d popped over at lunchtime to check on Cooper and Blitzen and could see them glowing further up the road, just in front of the trees. He stumbled as he got closer and noticed blue, green and red lights flickering through his windows, which hadn’t been there earlier. His heart thumped as he drew closer. There was a Christmas wreath made of holly with plump red berries hanging from the knocker on the blue front door. A welcome mat with a red-nosed snowman beamed up at him from the floor of the porch, and Tom deliberately stood on its face. He put the key in the lock, dreading what he’d find, and held his breath.

  The sitting room had been turned into a Christmas grotto – there was a large rustic star hanging above the fireplace with white lights highlighting each of its sharp points. Snowmen, reindeer and Santa ornaments grinned inanely as he pulled off his boots and coat and slung them onto the floor. Cooper came bounding up to greet him, spinning around with excitement as he got further into the sitting room, trying to catch his tail. The noise on the wooden floor was almost enough to drown out the Christmas music playing in the background. He’d left the radio on when he’d gone out so Cooper had some company, but he hadn’t set the station to this. He marched into the kitchen to switch it off, almost doing a double-take as he spotted the huge sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and the metal fir tree candle holders on the counter. Running across the windowsill, edged with red and silver tinsel, were a set of grinning elves.

  Baffled, Tom walked back into the sitting room. ‘What the hell?’ There was a tall fir tree in the corner. It had been decorated with a mass of multicoloured baubles, and yet more lights shone out from between the branches. He let out a soft exhale and marched back into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and pouring himself a stiff glass before glugging it down in one. He couldn’t explain why the decorations made him feel so empty and alone, why the mere sight of the lights had his hand shaking. He knew it was Meg. Had known from the moment he’d seen the soft glow on his walk. He wasn’t angry with her – he knew it had been done with the best intentions – but he couldn’t live with these memories in his house.

  The whole thing reminded him too much of Christmas Day, that moment when he’d woken to find Marnie gone, the divorce papers under the tree, wrapped up as a festive joke present. She’d wanted to hurt him – payback for those years he’d put his music first, the lost conn
ection in their marriage. Then the calls from his grandad, the guilt as he battled with the emptiness in his chest, trying to figure out the quickest way to the hospital and how to get Marnie’s friends out of his house. Thank God Davey had been around and had stepped in to help.

  He shouldn’t blame Christmas, but the whole thing was so utterly fake. The promises people made to each other and themselves, the way families gathered together, pretending they loved each other, pretending they were better than they were. As if the decorations, the food, the millions of wrapped presents could somehow hide reality. It was such a stark reflection of the way he’d lived his life. Except that fame had been his Christmas – and love had been his gift. But none of it had been real. The scales had dropped from his eyes overnight, and when he’d looked for love and friendship when he’d most needed it, he’d found it had all been an illusion. Perhaps because he didn’t deserve it? Never really had.

  He swallowed and poured himself another, smaller drink, sipping it slowly as he wandered around the house to see where else Meg had been. Had she been dressed as an elf as she’d tried to infuse Davey’s house with festive spirit? What had she expected? That a few lights, a sprig of mistletoe and spray of tinsel would change his mind? He could see how she used Christmas to hide behind her true feelings – to pretend life was perfect. Perhaps she thought she could do the same for him? He slumped into the sofa, trying to relax, and Cooper came to rest a paw on his leg, picking up on his mood. He stroked the dog’s head, trying to ignore the star’s twinkles and the way the lights on the tree flashed on and off in a rhythmic sequence.

  He’d woken up under a tree three Christmases ago, or at least close to one, slumped on the sofa in all his clothes because he’d been sitting alone playing the guitar – surrounded by a crowd of people invited by his then-wife. Most of them he’d barely known.