Tom’s fingers tingled as his mind began to pick up on the beat of the Christmas lights. The Gibson was still in the cupboard and he imagined himself playing – could hear the notes in his head. But he couldn’t let them in. Couldn’t trust himself to let music into his life again. Who knew where it would end? Who else he’d end up letting down.
He shook his head and rose, pulling the plug on both sets of lights before heading through the kitchen towards the garden. There were at least a dozen boxes in Davey’s shed. He could pack this all away, put it on the doorstep under the porch so it didn’t get wet. Then he’d figure out exactly how he could get the whole lot back to Meg without hurting her feelings.
Seventeen
Meg made her way down the road towards Tom’s house the next morning, carrying an inflatable snowman in a bag. She’d decorated his house yesterday afternoon, dancing to ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ on the radio, but even as she’d finished she’d realised the garden looked bare in comparison. If Tom was at work this morning, she’d put the snowman up and give him another surprise to come home to. To show him she’d been thinking of him.
She grinned as she drew closer, her eyes skimming the horizon – admiring the mountain peaks, jagged and imposing against the blue sky, the white fields and trees laden with shimmering snow. She loved this weather, but it was good that a milder spell was meant to be on its way, otherwise the Christmas concert might be affected.
Meg was just a few steps away from the cottage’s garden when she came to a sudden stop. There were two large cardboard boxes on the porch, and next to those a six-foot Nordmann fir stripped bare of all decorations. ‘He didn’t…’ There was a pool of ice in the pit of her stomach as she approached the house, tramping up the pathway. Tears pricked her eyes as she fumbled in her pocket for the key, noticing, as she found the lock, that the wreath she’d hung on the door knocker yesterday afternoon was gone. Along with the mat she’d left to welcome Tom home.
Numb, she opened the door and Cooper greeted her with a loud bark. He scurried around her heels as she pulled off her coat and boots and padded into the sitting room, chewing her lip. The tree was gone. All the decorations on the mantelpiece. The beautiful star she’d taken out of her own collection because she’d wanted to make the house feel like a warm hug when he got home. The only decoration that remained was the empty glass bauble on the front windowsill. Meg’s hands curled as she wandered into the kitchen. He’d taken the mistletoe down; no doubt it was boxed up outside. The icy pool in her stomach hardened as she made her way back to the sitting room and slumped onto the sofa, scouring the bare surfaces. Cooper let out a sigh, reading her mind, and came to rest his head on her lap. She’d worn her elf outfit again, another deliberate attempt to make Tom laugh – to see that shine and warmth in his eyes when he let his guard down. She just felt like an idiot now. Her emotions were raw, worse than when she’d discovered Ned had been cheating on her with Lilith. Which made no sense at all…
‘Stupid,’ she muttered. She knew how Tom felt about Christmas, but this was like a rejection. She was all about the sparkle, warmth and joy of the season. She’d tried to bring it to his house, wanting to surround him with those good feelings. She sensed he was unhappy and lost. Had wanted to offer kindness and love – just some of the feelings Christmas gave her. But he’d chucked it away – because he didn’t want it. Because he’d meant what he’d said that day in the pub: the whole season was fake. Perhaps he thought she was too? Or maybe they’d just got a little too close the evening he’d kissed her, and he was putting a stop to anything further developing.
Taking a deep breath, Meg got up, ignoring her wobbly legs and the headache that had begun to throb behind her eyes. She popped upstairs to check on Blitzen, dropping a few seeds into his bowl before picking up his cage, wrapping it in the blanket she’d used when she’d brought him over, and heaving it under her arm. Perhaps Agnes might let him stay instead? She popped the spare keys onto the kitchen counter, gathered her bag and headed back out into the snow. Knowing that whatever happened, she was going to avoid Tom Riley-Clark from now on.
The high street was almost empty as Meg made her way along it, towards her Christmas shop. Her heart was heavy but she was determined not to focus on it, so paused a few times on the walk to admire the knitted decorations and dazzling lights, blocking out all thoughts of Tom. She stopped momentarily to take in the Promise Tree. She’d sold dozens more baubles over the last few days and it was heaving with the villagers’ promises. Hundreds of globes swung in the wind and she tried to spot hers – as she did, her dad walked up to greet her.
‘You were out early?’ he said, glancing at the cage under her arm with a frown. He pulled up the collar of his thin blue coat and patted his arms. ‘I thought I’d take a walk before work so I could clear my head. Your mum’s still not talking to me.’ He frowned and pointed at the tree. ‘I hung a promise on there this morning in one of your baubles. Do people ever manage to keep them?’
‘Sometimes…’ Meg shrugged. ‘I promised one Christmas I’d make enough money to buy a new van for the shop, and I did.’
He nodded, looking up again. ‘I’ve made a lot of mistakes with your mother. We were so right for each other once.’
‘You were?’ Meg’s tone was surprised and her dad laughed.
‘Love isn’t always black and white, Meg – sometimes there’s a lot more going on under the surface. I’ve always tried to ignore that. I wonder if you’re a chip off the old block?’ She was going to ask what he was talking about, but there was a cough behind them and they both turned. Her mother was standing a few metres away looking awkward – in her hands she held a blue hat and scarf. She held them out to Meg’s dad.
‘You forgot these.’ Her mouth made a worried shape. ‘You don’t want to get cold, you might pick up a bad chill.’ Her dad took them and opened his mouth, but she turned away. ‘I’ve got to get back to work,’ she muttered, walking back down the high street towards Meg’s shop.
Oliver wound the scarf around his neck and pulled on his hat, watching her. His expression was a mixture of pure bemusement and longing. Then he looked up at the tree. ‘Perhaps there’s something in your tree after all. I’ll see you later, love…’ He smiled and nodded, then walked in the direction of the fields that framed the boundary of Buttermead Farm, passing Lilith as she opened the gate and stepped onto the high street.
The Italian’s cheeks were pink. She carried a battered yellow knitted garland and three glass baubles. ‘Don’t accuse me of being the vandal,’ she snapped, before Meg could finish processing what had just happened between her parents and comment. ‘I was feeling mad this morning and needed to walk all the feelings off, along with a slice of tiramisu I ate for breakfast. So I hiked through four fields to get to the village and found these on my way. It was as if someone had left a trail leading to Lockton.’ She shoved them under Meg’s nose, before pointing back the way she’d come.
‘Were there any clues?’ Meg asked, taking one of the baubles so she could study it.
‘I think I saw footprints but they were mostly filled with snow.’ Lilith’s brown eyes dropped to the bundle under Meg’s arm as the cage shuddered.
‘It’s my hamster,’ Meg explained, as the wheel inside the cage began to squeak. ‘Long story. Have you come to pick up some food from Apple Cross Inn? How’s your kitchen, is the electricity back on?’
A shadow passed across Lilith’s face. ‘The electrician had a cancellation and he’s due later this morning. I sent someone from the hotel to collect the food for today earlier. We’ll get the rest when the work is done. I needed a walk, to clear my head. I’d only headed into town when I found these.’ She held up the decorations again. ‘I was going to drop them into your shop before I walked back.’
‘We should call Marcus, point him to where you found them.’ Meg looked around. ‘There could be clues to the identity of the vandal that you didn’t spot. Do you want to come straight to the Christmas shop – I�
�ll make you a drink and we can wait for Marcus?’
Lilith frowned as her eyes skimmed the facade of the pub. ‘If you insist on speaking to PC Dougall I’ll come to the cafe, as long as it won’t take long.’ A gust of wind swirled between them and the baubles knocked together, making a musical tinkling sound. Lilith’s gaze darted to the tree. ‘There are so many now. Do you think anyone ever keeps their promise?’ she asked, echoing Oliver’s question from a few minutes ago.
‘I think so,’ Meg said, looking up too.
‘What was yours?’ Lilith asked, surprising them both. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t have to say if it’s private…’ She turned suddenly and headed down the high street.
Meg caught up and they walked side by side. ‘It’s stupid,’ she confided, wondering why she was. Perhaps she was missing Evie? Whatever the reason, she needed someone to talk to, especially after her visit to Tom’s and the strange moment between her mum and dad. ‘I promised I’d be happy spending my first Christmas alone.’ She sighed. ‘Which is ironic, since my whole family is now living in my flat.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Lilith’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Why would you not want to be with your family?’
Meg sighed. ‘Let’s just say there’s a lot of expectation put on that one day. In some ways, as much as I love it, it’s always been a strain. Not when I was younger. Everything felt different then. But over the last few years. My parents pretend everything’s okay and we’re this wonderful, happy family – and we all play our parts. But we’re not. Haven’t been for as long as I can remember. And the minute Christmas Day is over, everything reverts. It’s hard to explain, but my mum and dad need to work out what they want. I don’t think having Christmas together is helping with that. My sister figured that out way before me… I suppose one day can’t fix everything, not if it’s really broken, even if I wish it could.’ She frowned. Why was she confiding in this woman? She’d just blurted out her deepest, darkest feelings. It had only been a few months since Lilith had been trying to run her out of town. Lilith let out a soft laugh; it was sad and so at odds with her usual persona that Meg’s eyes darted to her profile. She was a pretty woman, usually so prim and perfect – so difficult to read – but today she looked troubled. ‘Are you okay?’ Meg asked, expecting Lilith to snap her head off.
Instead the chef gulped and looked over her shoulder at the baubles. ‘I promised to impress my parents – to make this Christmas our best ever. To find a connection with them that I’ve never had. Now my kitchen is broken and the oil I need to make their favourite dish is somewhere between Lockton and Rome. Then I thought… I thought perhaps…’ She stared at Apple Cross Inn, then let out a laugh which sounded more like a hiccup. ‘Looks like neither of us is going to get what we want.’
‘I’m sure your family will understand,’ Meg said softly.
‘Are you?’ Lilith turned so she could study Meg. ‘Because I’m not. I’ve been wanting to spend time with them for so long…’
‘And here I am, desperate to get rid of mine,’ Meg joked. ‘Perhaps we should swap?’
Lilith’s expression warmed. ‘Sì. Perhaps we should.’ She shivered suddenly. ‘It’s cold. Shall we go and get some of your awful coffee? You should really buy Italian beans.’ She turned and marched off at speed, crossing to the opposite side of the road as they passed Apple Cross Inn, heading to the other pavement again only when they got close to the Christmas shop.
Lilith waited for Meg at the entrance and then followed her into the cafe, watching as she put Blitzen’s cage onto one of the seats.
‘Morning, lassies,’ Cora greeted them. She looked surprised when Lilith sat. Probably because she hadn’t made any scathing comments about the decor.
‘Two cappuccinos and a couple of slices of rainbow cake, please, Cora,’ Meg requested, as Lilith held up a hand to protest. ‘At least try some. Agnes made it, so it’ll be delicious. Cora, is Marcus around? Lilith found some decorations by Buttermead Farm, and I thought he might want to check it out.’
‘I’ll give him a tinkle. You two, sit.’ Cora went to the counter as Meg sank into a chair, hanging the bag containing the inflatable snowman onto the back. Lilith peered inside it and raised an eyebrow.
‘It was for Tom.’ Meg felt a pinch in her chest as she said his name. ‘But he didn’t want it.’ She swallowed and looked away, fighting the tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes. ‘He hates Christmas.’
‘Ahhhh.’ Lilith nodded and glanced around the cafe. ‘I see. And this is something you can’t forgive?’
Meg sighed. ‘You either work or you don’t. There’s no in between. A square peg won’t fit into a round hole no matter how much you want it to – or try to squeeze it in. I know that. Having my parents staying is a timely reminder.’ Although had she just seen the first hints of a thaw? Meg frowned, feeling confused. What had her father meant about the world not being black and white?
‘Sì.’ Lilith studied her with a cool expression. ‘I suppose. These men, they are difficult to understand. I wonder sometimes why we bother.’ They sat staring at the tablecloth for a few moments, until Cora brought over their coffees and cakes.
‘Marcus said he’ll be here in ten minutes,’ she addressed Lilith. ‘So don’t go running off yet, lass.’ She left as another customer entered the shop.
Lilith sipped some of the coffee and put it down without pulling a face. She sliced a tiny piece off the cake and bit into it, nodding. ‘Sì, it is good.’ She paused as she nibbled some more. ‘You’ve known Davey long?’ she asked suddenly.
‘He arrived about six months after I moved here.’ Meg chewed her lip, waiting for Lilith to continue. It was obvious something was bothering her, something to do with Davey or Apple Cross Inn. ‘He’s a good man – he’ll help anyone with any problem no matter who they are,’ Meg added, and watched as Lilith’s shoulders sagged.
‘That’s what I thought.’ She sighed.
‘Something wrong?’ Meg asked gently.
‘I’m not as good with people as you,’ Lilith said. ‘I don’t know how to read them. I see how well you build your friendships. With Agnes and Evie Stuart, with Davey, Morag, Johnny, even Tom.’ Her forehead creased.
Meg sighed, tracing one of the snowmen on the tablecloth with her fingertip. ‘I don’t always get it right. To be honest, most of my relationships – especially with men – have been a complete disaster. Tom and I don’t fit, and look at Ned.’ She gave Lilith a wry smile. ‘I followed him from London to Lockton, gave up my whole life, and he cheated on me with you.’
‘Then perhaps we were both taken in by the wrong man. I thought Ned was a good guy. I thought you…’ She trailed off and then shrugged. ‘I didn’t have any close friendships when I was growing up. I didn’t learn how to separate good from bad. My family… they like to work.’ She nodded. ‘That’s important to them. People are not important – feelings are for the weak, and doing well no matter what is the true measure of success. And success in business above all else is what I was taught to value.’
‘I understand that – my shop’s important to me,’ Meg said. ‘It’s my life. Pretty much all I ever wanted for as long as I can remember.’
Lilith winced. ‘And I tried to take it away from you in the summer.’
Meg shrugged. ‘I think we can blame that whole sorry affair on Ned.’ She picked up her coffee and held it between them. ‘Thank goodness he moved away after he got found out. Perhaps we should make a toast to him – our cheating boyfriend who brought us together and is now firmly consigned to our pasts. I’d like to think we’ve both moved on.’
Lilith looked unhappy, but she picked up her cup and clinked it against Meg’s, and they both sipped. ‘I’ll toast to that.’ Her dark eyes still looked troubled. ‘But I’ll add a new one. To a life without men – they really aren’t worth the trouble.’
Meg nodded and tapped her cup gently against Lilith’s again before taking a long gulp. ‘They really aren’t,’ she agreed, ignor
ing the sharp stab of pain that shot through her heart.
Eighteen
Meg finished unpacking the boxes of decorations she’d picked up from Tom’s yesterday afternoon, and hung the last bauble on the shelf as the shop buzzed around her. Under the counter, Blitzen clattered on his wheel out of sight of her mother, who had no idea Meg had hidden him there. She’d called Buttermead Farm earlier and left a message asking Agnes to have him to stay, but hadn’t heard back. The flat had been quiet last night and Meg had gone to bed early, curling up beside her sister and trying to get some sleep. But she’d tossed and turned, her head filled with Tom and her parents.
‘Your three-for-two special is going down a storm. We’re selling out of everything and it’s only the nineteenth,’ Cora said happily, showing their collection of Christmas plates to a woman carrying a basket already piled high. Meg looked up as ‘Jingle Bells’ began to play in the front and her heart stopped as Tom wandered in, looking awkward.
He spotted her immediately, too late for Meg to make a dash for the back. She put her hands in the pockets of her skirt and watched him approach.
‘I came to apologise,’ he said simply, ignoring any preliminaries and getting straight to the point. His dark eyes studied her, his face pensive. He was always so serious – so different from her. She should have known before now that it wouldn’t work. ‘I wanted to tell you I’d taken the decorations down yesterday, but the boxes were gone when I got home from the pub.’ He frowned. ‘The shop was closed when I called by and your mobile was switched off.’ He looked so unhappy her chest felt tight.
‘I closed early.’ She swallowed. ‘It’s fine, really,’ she lied, giving him one of her brightest smiles when he frowned. She’d layered on so much glitter when she’d got up this morning she wondered if the sparkles might blind him. Hopefully they’d at least hide the misery in her eyes. ‘I’ve already put everything back on the shelves… there’re plenty of people who’ll be happy to use them, so it’s no problem.’
If Every Day Was Christmas: A gorgeous and heart-warming Christmas romance Page 14