One Family Christmas: The perfect, cosy, heart-warming read to curl up with this winter

by Bella Osborne

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Angie and Scott settled themselves by the fire whilst Lottie went to the sideboard, where family photos crowded together as if vying for attention, to find the prepared stocking. The door opened slowly as Joe crept in to join them. Everyone turned to watch what he did. He slunk over to Zach and sat on the arm of the chair next to him, a couple of seats away from Megan.

  Zach’s expression was stony. Despite no words being exchanged, Lottie appreciated his support.

  Lottie handed out pens and a piece of paper to everyone. Usually the stocking game was her Christmas highlight, but right now, she felt like it was the last thing she wanted to play. She was the current reigning champion – four years in a row – but that was all going to change this year: she’d set it up, so she couldn’t take part. ‘This is the stocking game,’ she said, holding up the classic Santa stocking like it were Exhibit A. ‘Inside here are twenty mystery items from around the house: some Christmas-related, some not. The stocking is passed around everyone five times.’ Scott was already looking confused. ‘Each time, you are allowed to put your hand inside and feel the items. Any peeking will result in instant disqualification. With each pass, we speed things up, so your time with the stocking gets shorter and shorter.’ She could feel Megan’s intense concentration and Jessie’s excitement. She glanced at Joe, who was staring at the fire. ‘When it’s been round five times, you have one minute to write down as many items as you can. The person with the most correct answers wins.’

  ‘What’s the prize, Auntie Lottie?’ asked Jessie. She leaned towards Emily. ‘Last year it was a chocolate orange.’

  ‘Ooh my favourite,’ said Emily, pulling Jessie to her for a hug. ‘But if I win I’ll still share it with you.’

  ‘A. Chocolate. Orange?’ asked Megan, pronouncing every syllable carefully.

  Jessie opened her mouth to explain, but Lottie was already on it. ‘Sorry. Different prize this year. It’s a selection box.’

  If anything Megan looked even more confused. Lottie retrieved it from the sideboard and held it up for her to see. ‘Ooh, candy,’ she said.

  Lottie started the Christmas music they always used for this game and handed the stocking to her mother. ‘Oldest person goes first, then we’ll go round in seat order.’ Angie gave her a murderous look and snatched the stocking from her. The first round always took a little while. To Megan’s credit, she really entered into the spirit of it. Lottie watched Joe when it was his turn. His troubled expression made it look as though he was putting his hand into a bag of snakes, but Lottie knew it wasn’t the game that he was concerned about.

  He briefly turned in her direction and then immediately his eyes shifted to Megan; Lottie’s stomach clenched. Every time she thought of Joe’s kiss, pain ached in her heart. She didn’t want to do this. It was too hard. She should just abandon the silly game and walk out. Then she saw Jessie mouthing to herself the items she thought were in the stocking so that she wouldn’t forget before the time came to write them down, and she relented. Christmas was about children and about family, so for now, she would put her hurt pride and battered feelings to one side and finish the game.

  ‘Come on, Joe. It’s time to move on,’ said Lottie, taking the stocking from him.

  ‘Yes, Joe. It’s time to move on,’ repeated Megan, and the words were like daggers to Lottie’s poor wounded heart.

  Lottie took a rushed breath and thrust the stocking at her mother. ‘Okay, faster this time.’

  Mercifully the rounds got quicker and the game drew to a close. There was silence as everyone frantically jotted down what they thought was in the stocking and answers were crossed out and reinstated.

  ‘Time’s up,’ said Lottie. They swapped papers and Lottie pulled out an array of items from the stocking one at a time to a series of cheers and groans. Everyone guessed the candy cane, but the donkey ornament that usually lived on a windowsill upstairs had them all stumped, as did the skiing yeti tree decoration.

  She felt Joe’s eyes on her. ‘Tot up the scores and hand back the papers,’ she said. She wished she could read Joe’s mind because his expression was telling her nothing.

  Scott was declared the winner. Lottie heard Zach whisper to Emily, ‘He’s got an advantage – I bet he gets to do a lot of rummaging around in stockings.’

  ‘Shh,’ said Emily, clearly struggling to suppress a giggle as she glanced at Jessie, who was looking interested in the conversation.

  ‘That was so much fun,’ said Megan. She sipped her drink daintily.

  ‘It’s silly really,’ said Lottie, not knowing why.

  There was a scratch at the door and a bark from the hallway. Megan recoiled. ‘Is that a dog?’ She looked to Lottie for an answer.

  ‘No, I taught our cat to do really good impressions.’ Lottie gave a sweet smile to mask her sarcasm and went to open the door.

  ‘No!’ Megan’s voice was fraught. ‘Don’t let it in!’

  ‘He’s very nice,’ said Jessie. ‘I’m sure you’ll like him.’

  Megan was shaking her head. ‘Yes, he’s only little,’ added Lottie, in case she was expecting a slobbering Saint Bernard.

  ‘I’m highly allergic,’ said Megan, getting to her feet and inching towards Joe. Lottie doubted this, considering Megan had been sitting where Dave had sat earlier and hadn’t appeared to have any reaction. It was also more than a hurdle if she was in a relationship with a vet.

  Joe got to his feet. ‘I should probably be going anyway.’ He aimed his words at Zach. He seemed to be struggling to make eye contact with Lottie.

  Megan linked her arm in Joe’s and Lottie looked away. The rip in her heart tore a fraction further. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from crying: she had shed enough tears over Joe Broomfield for one lifetime. As he walked towards her she snatched open the door, forgetting who was waiting on the other side.

  Dave dashed inside, pausing for a moment to spit something furry out of his mouth. His tail whirled like an errant propeller. He raced towards Jessie, but when Megan squealed he diverted towards her, his paws sliding on the polished wood floor. Lottie thought Megan was going to jump into Joe’s arms and, she guessed from his alarmed expression, so did he.

  ‘Dave!’ called Jessie, and the dog pirouetted, dancing between them – torn by his desire to respond to Jessie and his innate curiosity about the new person. Megan’s squeal hitched up a notch and she scurried behind Joe, clutching handfuls of his jumper. She did look genuinely terrified, but Lottie was lacking any sympathy. She marched over to retrieve the dog and reached forward at the same time as Joe bent down to grab him. Their heads collided and Lottie came off worse. For a moment, everything went black and pain shot through her temples. She toppled backwards and Joe caught her, steering her to the sofa. She opened her eyes to see him up close and concerned, with a frowning Megan looming over his shoulder.

  Joe began. ‘I’m so sorry—’

  ‘No, my fault.’ It was an automatic response. She put her hand to her head; already a swelling was forming. ‘Are you all right?’ She scanned his face for any signs of damage or growing lumps.

  Joe smiled. A kind, heartfelt smile. ‘I’m fine. Head like a brick,’ he said, giving it a rub.

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ said Lottie, feeling slightly queasy.

  ‘Can you focus okay? You may be concussed.’ Joe leaned closer and looked deep into her eyes. A waft of aftershave made her senses ping. Even though she knew his concern and closeness were purely for medical reasons, her treacherous heart leapt all the same.

  ‘I think you’re fussing,’ said Megan. ‘She’s fine.’ She peered a bit closer. ‘You’re fine, aren’t you?’ she asked, although Lottie got the distinct feeling it was more a statement than a question.

  ‘You need ice on that,’ said Joe, ignoring Megan.

  Lottie felt awkward. ‘No, I’m okay. Really.’ She tried to get up to prove it, and a head rush had her sitting back down sharpish.

  ‘Whoa,’ said Jo
e. ‘Come on. Let’s get you some ice.’

  Dave barked and Megan looked like she was going to faint. ‘Joe! Joe! Stop him!’ She deftly put Joe between herself and Dave.

  ‘You should go,’ said Lottie. However nice it was to have him fuss over her, it was only ever going to be temporary. Better to let him leave and go cold turkey.

  Joe opened his mouth as if to protest, but Megan spoke first. ‘You’re right. It’s been mighty fine, but we need to be getting along now. Don’t we, Joey?’

  Zach scooped up Dave, who strained to get a lick of Megan as he passed. ‘Eurgh,’ she said with a shiver.

  Jessie looked to Emily. ‘I don’t like Megan any more,’ she said loudly.

  ‘Erm, you might want to see this,’ said Zach, opening the door into the hallway further to reveal Megan’s coat in a crumpled heap. Whether the collar had once been alive or not, it was definitely dead now, thanks to a good mauling by Dave. Lottie was starting to really love the little dog.

  ‘My Max Mara!’ wailed Megan, as Dave spat out another piece of the ravaged fur coat.

  Joe said his goodbyes. He leaned down to give Lottie a fleeting kiss on the cheek, and he saw her flinch. Pain ripped through him like an arrow through air. He’d hurt her, and he hated himself for it. ‘Can I leave Dave here?’ he asked.

  ‘I think you’ll have to,’ said Lottie, adding in a firm voice, ‘for now.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He could hear Megan’s foot tapping from the hallway. There were things he wanted to say to Lottie, but she turned away. Being under her family’s spotlight wasn’t helping either.

  ‘Joey?’ called Megan, her voice impatient.

  ‘Bye, everyone,’ he said. Zach was giving him filthy looks, so he decided against shaking his hand. ‘Come on.’ He ushered Megan out of the front door and closed it behind them. The sound of the heavy door shutting echoed through him. It had something final about it.

  Megan made a big show of waving as they walked away from the house, but to be fair, most of the household were at the window watching them go. She walked over to Daniel’s shiny new Range Rover. Joe unlocked his Land Rover and he watched Megan do a double take at the old vehicle, before slapping back on a Hollywood smile and waving to the Collins family.

  Megan brushed down the passenger seat, even though it was clean, and got in. Joe didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He started the car and allowed himself one last look back at the house. Lottie was just visible, standing behind Zach. Her expression was one that would haunt him.

  And with that, he drove out of the gates and away from Henbourne Manor.

  ‘Aren’t you gonna say howdy?’ Megan’s voice was strained, as if it was taking a lot of effort not to shout.

  ‘Why did you come here, Megan?’ He glanced briefly at her. She was staring straight ahead through the windscreen and he caught sight of her in profile. She looked amazing. She was a striking woman – that was what he had immediately been drawn to when they’d first met five months ago.

  ‘I came because there was no answer at the address you gave me. I went to the little stores and they said I’d likely find you at Lottie’s.’ He didn’t like the way she said Lottie’s name, almost like she was ridiculing it. It didn’t sound right on her tongue. Joe didn’t want to think about what rumours were already zooming through the village, spreading quicker, most likely, than one of Donald Trump’s tweets.

  Joe pulled up outside the rental cottage. Megan went to undo her seat belt and he put a hand on hers to stop her. She gripped his quickly and relief spread across her face. ‘I’ve missed you, Joe.’

  It was Megan who said the words, but he heard them as if spoken by Lottie: the same words she’d uttered only a couple of hours earlier. He shook his head to rid himself of the image.

  ‘Don’t you have any luggage?’ He changed the subject.

  ‘Oh, my driver has it. I had someone arrange a car for me. After he dropped me at …’

  He wasn’t sure if she couldn’t remember, or didn’t want to repeat Lottie’s name. ‘The manor house,’ he said, filling the gap.

  She nodded. ‘After he’d dropped me there. I told him to go and wait for my call.’

  Joe really didn’t want to ask the question that was buzzing around his brain for fear of the answer, but at six o’clock on Boxing Day evening he needed to. ‘Where are you staying tonight?’

  Megan looked out of the passenger window at Mr Bundy’s tiny cottage. ‘Well, here, of course.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Joe, we need to iron a few things out. What could be better than cosying up in front of a real fire with a mug of cocoa and Christmas cookies, while we talk things through?’

  Joe let out a resigned sigh. Of course she expected to stay with him and what could he do? She’d flown some four thousand miles, and he could hardly expect her to find a hotel on Boxing Day. He hated being forced into a situation, but Megan was a grade-A manipulator.

  ‘Central heating,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘No real fire. It’s radiators only. So don’t expect any cosying up.’ He got out of the car and slammed the door.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lottie found it was important to keep busy. ‘Don’t dwell on things you can’t change’ – that’s what Nana would say. So now they were all playing charades from a new set Lottie had bought off eBay but, having already removed An American Werewolf in London and Fifty Shades of Grey, she was doubting its ‘child-friendly’ sticker. Her mother was up miming a song; she had spent the last minute jumping about like an idiot, with people suggesting everything from ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ to all the songs from The Greatest Showman. The doorbell rang through the house and Lottie went to answer it. Her heart thumped a little faster at the thought that it might be Joe. It was dark and the wind was fierce, so she held on tight to the door as she opened it. On the doorstep was Shirley with her tartan trolley.

  ‘Hello, Shirley. Come in,’ said Lottie, marvelling that the little old lady had made it up the hill in the high winds, and then wondering whether it was in fact the wind that had brought her here, Mary Poppins-style.

  ‘I’m not stopping. I just called by to see how young Bernard was,’ she asked, without a hint of humour in her voice. But then if you were pushing ninety, seventy-two was young by comparison.

  ‘He’s doing all right and he’s getting the best nursing care. Hopefully he’ll just need some medication and to take it easy. Thank you for coming to ask. That’s really kind.’

  Shirley waved the thanks away. ‘You know how it works around here, Lottie. We all look out for each other. Most likely why someone dumped that little dog here. They knew someone would take him in.’

  ‘Is that what you think happened?’

  ‘Someone came in the pub with tales of a little dog being pushed out the back of a van a few nights ago.’

  ‘Poor thing.’ Lottie wanted to go and give Dave a hug. She still hadn’t thanked him for shredding Megan’s coat.

  ‘Right, I best be off,’ said Shirley, pushing her trolley for the door.

  ‘Actually, Shirley, would you like to stay? We’re playing charades – and I’ve got sherry.’ Lottie had barely finished her sentence before Shirley’s coat was off.

  ‘I can’t stop long,’ she said, as she scuttled into the drawing room.

  Lottie poured Shirley a large glass of sherry, but she was already on her feet taking her turn at charades.

  ‘What was Mother’s?’ Lottie asked Zach.

  ‘“Let Me Entertain You”,’ he said.

  They watched Shirley mime her four-word book and film. She was pulling at her hair and making horn shapes with her fingers, prancing around.

  ‘Mad hair!’ shouted Jessie, who was trying to join in but obviously struggling.

  ‘Hellboy?’ asked Zach.

  ‘Is it a dinosaur?’ asked Daniel, to much tutting from Nicola. But at least they were in the same room and hadn’t murdered e
ach other; Lottie was buoyed by that. She’d hidden the sharp knives, just to be on the safe side.

  ‘Dancing unicorn,’ said Jessie, erupting into fits of giggles.

  ‘Horny goat,’ suggested Scott, and everyone else cracked up.

  ‘Time’s up,’ called out Emily, and Shirley slumped into the chair by the fire and downed half her sherry in one swig.

  ‘What was it?’ asked Lottie.

  ‘The Devil Wears Prada,’ said Shirley, and everyone groaned.

  The next hour flew by with everyone enjoying themselves, except for a worrying moment when Shirley almost lost her sherry while Jessie was acting out Kung Fu Panda. It had been lovely to see Shirley. She refused to let anyone drive her home or call her a taxi, insisting nothing ever happened in Dumbleford, which Lottie had to agree was true. Lottie had waved her off with the remains of the bottle of sherry tucked safely in her wheelie trolley, singing ‘I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby’ all the way down the drive. Perhaps the answer to a fun Christmas was to invite enough people to dilute the family to a bearable level, mused Lottie.

  Lottie found herself standing on the landing looking out of the window at the trees being shaken by the wind. She couldn’t straighten things out in her head. The Joe she had known wasn’t a cruel person, but what he’d done felt unforgiveable. A bedroom door opened behind her, but she didn’t turn around as her attention was held by one of the lower branches on the larger of two birch trees, which looked as if it was going to be wrenched away from the security of the trunk.

  ‘Hey. You okay?’ It was Rhys. He seemed pretty upbeat, given all that had happened in his family this Christmas.

  ‘Yeah. I’m okay. How about you?’

  Rhys rested the metal detector on the floor for a moment as he pondered. Lottie wondered if she was going to get a deep and meaningful conversation out of him. ‘I’m … okay.’

  Lottie smiled at the brief response. ‘As long as you’re sure.’