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

by Bella Osborne

When she reached the middle of Dumbleford Green she dropped her sack of holly onto the snowy ground and rubbed her hands together to warm them up. Joe did the same. ‘Here’s the situation: Dave hasn’t delivered the ring, so Zach has come up with a new plan and we’re it.’ She pointed between herself and Joe.

  ‘Okay,’ said Joe, giving a furtive look in the direction of the pub as Lottie tipped the holly onto the snow.

  ‘Come on, we’re up against the clock on this one.’

  Lottie explained the details and they worked as quickly as they could, given that they got pricked by the holly every time they touched it. After a few minutes, they stood back to admire their handiwork. Nestled in the snow in giant letters made out of the holly were the words ‘MARRY ME?’ Lottie held the last piece of holly aloft.

  ‘Where are you going to put that?’ asked Joe, appearing wary. Lottie used an uncensored expression to tell him exactly where she’d like to stick it. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Or maybe on the question mark?’

  She did as he suggested. ‘Thanks,’ she said, picking up the sacks and heading to the pub.

  Inside the Bleeding Bear, the Collins family were filling up the small bar area. Emily and Megan took off their coats and joined them by the open fire.

  ‘Oh my, now ain’t this quaint? It is quite possibly the cutest bar I’ve ever been in,’ said Megan, looking around appreciatively. The pub had low ceilings, ancient sturdy beams, beautiful wood floors and a roaring fire. Emily had to admit it was a very sweet pub: traditional, warm and welcoming; and now, thanks to the Collins family, it was very noisy too. An excited yap came from somewhere behind all the legs, and Dave’s face appeared. He wriggled to get past Scott and made a beeline for Megan.

  Megan let out a yelp.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t,’ said Emily, intercepting Dave before he reached his target. She picked him up and he wriggled excitedly at the attention. Thankfully, he seemed to forget about Megan.

  Zach was close behind him. ‘Hello Megan. Where’s Joe?’ he asked.

  ‘Lottie wanted a quiet word with him,’ said Emily, and Zach’s face registered something that she couldn’t quite gauge. ‘I’m sure they’ll both join us soon.’ Emily tried to hang on to Dave, who was squirming more than an eel with an itch.

  ‘Yeah, they will. I guess. I mean I don’t know,’ said Zach, his eyes darting about warily. What was up with him?

  Megan flinched every time Dave moved, which was a lot. ‘I’m sorry, but can you keep that dog away from me?’

  ‘I’ll take him outside,’ said Emily, turning to leave.

  ‘No!’ said Zach, almost shouting, making Emily spin back around. Everyone stared. Emily joined in with a glare of her own. She didn’t like being yelled at or told what to do.

  ‘Sorry. I mean, I’ll take him. It’s bitterly cold out there.’ Zach took the writhing dog from her arms.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Megan, straightening out her blouse as if she’d been under attack.

  Zach backed away, opened the pub door a fraction and slipped out. Emily shook her head. He was acting strangely but then he’d been like that, on and off, since Christmas Eve.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Emily asked Megan as they reached the bar. Petra greeted them warmly.

  ‘I’ll have a Manhattan, please,’ said Megan, looking around for somewhere to sit.

  Petra pulled a face. ‘We don’t do cocktails I’m afraid. But we’re stocking some new gins.’ She proudly waved an arm across her display. Emily was interested for a nanosecond before the unanswered question prodded her conscience. It was a shame, because she liked gin – a lot. She thought about the test in her bag and wondered if she could slip unnoticed to the toilets.

  Megan was frowning. ‘Just a bourbon then. What do you have?’ She was scanning the optics.

  ‘Jim Beam,’ said Petra, with a smile. Megan scowled.

  ‘Fine,’ said Megan, pulling out a chair and examining the seat thoroughly before sitting down.

  ‘And a lime and soda for me please,’ said Emily. She heard Dave’s muted bark from outside. She’d need to go and relieve Zach from dog duty shortly.

  She was distracted by the sounds of claws on wood. Emily and Megan turned at the same time to see a giant dog bound from behind the bar. It looked to Emily like the one she’d met playing on the green on Christmas Day. The dog was even bigger up close. Emily was sure she’d seen smaller donkeys.

  Megan screamed and the dog made straight for her. ‘Tiny!’ yelled Petra, and the dog stopped abruptly. ‘Sit.’ And Tiny did as instructed. The problem was he was sitting right next to Megan. His head was at the same height as her shoulder, his tongue lolling out from his foam-edged jowls.

  Megan froze. ‘Get. It. Away. From. Me,’ said Megan, in a fearful whisper that held more than a hint of menace.

  Jessie pushed her way through the crowd and took the giant dog by the collar. ‘Come on, Tiny. She doesn’t like dogs. You can sit with me,’ she said, and she led the giant canine away.

  ‘Dogs and children in bars. Surely that’s illegal,’ said Megan, giving her clothes another smooth over.

  ‘Nope,’ said Emily. ‘Welcome to England.’ And she handed over her drink.

  Lottie reached for the pub door just as Zach appeared from inside with Dave in his arms. ‘Is it done?’ he asked, nudging her back out into the snow.

  ‘Yes, look,’ said Lottie, pointing to the green, but as she turned to look over her shoulder she could see they might have a problem. She and Zach stared at the green. Due to a slight undulation in the ground the message she and Joe had laid out wasn’t completely visible from the pub. What they had was the bottom third of each letter, making it look like a coded message. ‘Bugger,’ whispered Lottie under her breath as Joe joined them.

  ‘What’s up?’ He turned around and answered his own question. ‘Ah. Sod it.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Lottie, thinking on her feet. ‘You can walk her over there to show her the Christmas tree up close.’ No way was she going to rearrange eleventy hundred sprigs of pricking holly.

  ‘Why would I show her the Christmas tree?’ asked Zach. ‘It’s three hundred and sixty-three days until Christmas.’

  ‘Because it’s lovely, especially now it has a coating of snow on it.’

  Zach was shaking his head. Joe let out a slow breath. ‘I’ll sort it. You two go inside and I’ll move it all a few feet nearer, okay?’

  ‘Great,’ said Lottie. She was cold and hungry and in dire need of a large glass of wine. Joe trudged back to the green. ‘You coming in?’ Lottie asked Zach.

  ‘I can’t. Megan’s in there and Dave wants to cosy up to her even more than he wants to chase the Duchess.’

  His comment made Lottie ponder briefly about the two animals, but that thought disappeared when she opened the pub door and out marched Megan like a woman on a mission.

  ‘Where’s Joe?’ she demanded. But Megan’s gaze landed on him and she strode off across the green. Lottie shrugged and knocked the worst of the snow off her wellies. She was about to step inside when a shriek stopped her.

  Lottie twisted to see Megan standing on the edge of the green with her hands on her cheeks. Joe was doing something crossed between jazz hands and the gesture you make when you’re trying to flag down a taxi after a few bottles of wine. ‘Bugger,’ said Lottie, and without thinking she ran to him – he was going to need some help.

  ‘Oh my God. Yes,’ squealed Megan. ‘Yes. Yes. Yes!’ Each word was getting louder and more excited.

  ‘No. No. No,’ muttered Joe, his eyes wider than when he got pricked in the nether regions by the holly. But Megan wasn’t listening; she was already pulling her phone from her designer bag to take selfies.

  Lottie did the only thing she could think of and ran through the message kicking up the holly in all directions. The last thing they needed was Emily to see this on the internet. ‘You bitch!’ yelled Megan, and she launched herself at Lottie. Lottie dodged out of the way and ran behind Joe. ‘What
the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Megan’s eyes were demonic with rage.

  ‘I’m trying to save you embarrassment,’ said Lottie, making a run for the nearby Christmas tree with Megan in hot pursuit.

  ‘Megan!’ shouted Joe. Megan halted and turned to look at him.

  ‘She’s right. This proposal – it’s not for you.’ He hung his head.

  ‘What? You mean you’re asking her?’ Megan stabbed a finger in Lottie’s direction.

  ‘No!’ said Lottie and Joe together. Joe’s response was a little more vehement than she would have liked to hear but at least they were on the same page.

  Megan’s head spun between the two of them, like the girl in The Exorcist but thankfully without the vomit. They both nodded solemnly.

  Megan licked her lips. ‘It’s not a pro …’ They both shook their heads in unison. Megan began to cry silent tears and Lottie felt a pang of guilt. That always happened. She always felt like it was all her fault.

  She felt for Megan, all the same. ‘Why?’ Megan was looking imploringly at Joe.

  As imminent danger seemed to have passed, Lottie crept from behind the Christmas tree, which was inappropriately twinkling its colourful, jolly lights. ‘It was my brother’s proposal to his girlfriend. But now,’ Lottie surveyed the strewn holly, ‘it’s nobody’s.’

  ‘Eurgh. I hate you, Joey Broomfield!’ said Megan, and she shoved him hard in the chest before stalking off.

  Lottie looked towards the pub and saw the distress on poor Zach’s face. Three proposals scuppered – this was not going well. ‘I’m going to …’ Lottie pointed at Zach and Joe nodded. He looked shell-shocked. She left him standing in the snow.

  As Lottie reached the pub, the door opened and Emily popped her head out. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Zach, hastily bundling her back inside. ‘Absolutely sod all.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The pub had put on an excellent hot buffet lunch, with something for everyone. Lottie had forgotten to tell Petra that they had one vegan and one fake vegan to cater for, but it hadn’t mattered. There were slices of spiced lentil loaf and bean casserole. There was, of course, an abundance of turkey dishes, along with a big pot of pasta and tomato sauce, of which Jessie was on her third helping.

  Zach was about as flat as the ribbons of tagliatelle; and who could blame him? His proposal plans had been dashed for a third time. Emily was cuddling up to him. She could obviously sense something was wrong, but she had no idea what.

  Lottie put down her spoon after a little bit too much sticky toffee pudding and marvelled at the simple joy of having someone cook her a meal. She had a much greater admiration for how Nana had coped so effortlessly for all those years and she wished she was able to tell her. She steadied her emotions and wiped her mouth on a paper serviette that featured jolly dancing snowmen all the way round its edge.

  ‘I need the loo,’ said Emily, leaning forward to catch Lottie’s eye.

  ‘I don’t think I can move,’ said Lottie, thinking how nice it would be to curl up in front of the television for a couple of hours.

  ‘Oh, but it’s a bit of a walk back up the hill. Best go to the loo before we set off,’ said Emily, giving Lottie a pleading stare. The penny dropped and Lottie sat up straight.

  ‘Yes, good idea. I’d better come with you. I mean go too. For myself,’ she said, and she almost tripped over trying to get away from the table.

  They walked to the ladies’ toilets, checked nobody had followed them and then went into the bigger of the two cubicles together.

  Emily let out a slow breath. ‘Right.’ She pulled the box from her bag.

  ‘Haven’t you done it yet?’ asked Lottie.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘How are you feeling about it all?’

  ‘Not as scared as I was. Kind of excited. Is that weird?’

  ‘No. I can’t think of anything more exciting.’ She felt a pang of regret. ‘Are you going to do it now?’ asked Lottie, feeling that she was invading Emily’s space somewhat, squeezed in next to the toilet bowl.

  ‘I don’t know … I mean I want to, but … should I wait for Zach?’ Emily bit her lip.

  ‘We’ve been round this roundabout before,’ said Lottie.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s just …’ She stared at the tester. ‘What should I do?’

  ‘You should pass me some loo roll please, love,’ came Shirley’s voice from the other cubicle.

  Lottie and Emily giggled. At least that answered the question. They wouldn’t be doing a pregnancy test within earshot of Shirley. At least they hadn’t said anything obvious enough to set tongues wagging. But they had been foiled again.

  They eventually left the pub, all having eaten too much and most having had one too many drinks – apart from Jessie and Emily, who were skipping across the green. It had at last stopped snowing, and Lottie could see patches on the grass where it had started to melt, but given their alcohol intake nobody was driving anywhere tonight.

  ‘Look, holly,’ said Jessie, pointing at the scattered sprigs of leaves and berries. Lottie looked at Zach and he thrust one hand deep into his pocket, gripped Dave’s lead tightly with the other and rolled his shoulders forwards.

  She linked arms with her brother and they followed the group at a safe pace. ‘Sorry it all went wrong today,’ she said.

  ‘Really not your fault, Lottie. Don’t apologise. It’s another omen.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘It’s okay. I don’t mean I won’t ever propose. I just think that maybe now isn’t the right time.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Lottie. She was heavily invested in her brother’s romance now, and even if she couldn’t have her fairytale ending, she still wanted Emily and Zach to have theirs. ‘We just need to come up with an even better idea.’ She pressed her lips together and tipped her head skywards. Nothing immediately came to mind.

  ‘Not that easy, is it?’ said Zach.

  ‘No, but we will think of something.’ She gave his arm a squeeze.

  ‘It’s all his fault,’ said Zach, indicating Dave, who was trotting along between them obediently.

  ‘Don’t blame Dave,’ said Lottie, feeling protective.

  ‘I’m joking.’ Zach gave a wry smile. ‘Don’t tell Jessie, but I’ve liked having him about this Christmas.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘I might check out our local dog rescue when we get home. Having a dog of our own might not be so bad.’

  ‘Blimey, Zach. I can’t believe you’ve been converted.’

  ‘It’s seeing how Jessie is with him. It must be tough being an only child. When we were kids we had each other.’

  ‘Oi! Are you saying I was the same as a dog?’ Lottie couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘If the cap fits … But a dog might be nice – Jessie doesn’t have a playmate.’

  ‘Or anyone to fight with.’ Lottie’s memories were a healthy mix of fun and fighting.

  ‘True. It must be lonely for her sometimes.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to be an only child forever though.’ Lottie had a quick sideways glance at her brother. His expression was unreadable. ‘Does she?’ she added, emphatically. Lottie waited for Zach to have an epiphany, but his eyes were fixed on Jessie and Emily up ahead, laughing and holding hands, and his mind was miles away. ‘Emily would make a great mum,’ she ventured.

  ‘She would.’

  ‘And you are a great dad.’

  Zach shrugged off the compliment. ‘How much flak do you think Joe’s taking for the non-proposal?’ asked Zach, as they passed Mr Bundy’s cottage.

  ‘Poor Joe.’ She couldn’t help it. She knew most people would have been revelling in Joe’s bad karma, but whatever had happened between them she would always care about him. He had been her first love, and the intensity of their relationship had burned a mark on her heart – something indelible, a little like a tattoo. She looked in his cottage window but there was nothing to see;
no flying crockery or flailing arms. It was all quiet. Perhaps they were making up, she wondered, and a renewed sadness lay heavy on her.

  ‘You’re a good person, Lottie,’ said Zach. ‘Nana would be proud of what you’ve done this Christmas.’ Lottie shot him a doubtful look. ‘Your trouble is you’re too hard on yourself. You focus on the stuff that isn’t perfect and forget to celebrate all the brilliant little things that are.’

  She knew he was right. She watched her mother hanging on to Scott’s arm as they walked. She knew why she was the way she was. Constantly striving for her mother’s approval, which would most likely never come. It was difficult to focus on the good stuff when the not-so-good things were constantly being pointed out to you. ‘I’ll make it my New Year’s resolution,’ she said.

  ‘Good,’ said Zach. ‘Now, what’s for tea? It’s not ham sandwiches again is it?’ She gave his arm a slap.

  ‘It’s the bread you made and the cakes that Jessie made. So if it’s no good, it’s definitely not my fault.’

  Zach gave his sister a one-armed hug.

  Everyone abandoned their snowy footwear and many outer layers in the hallway then descended on the drawing room. Lottie left Zach to prepare a fire while she went to put the kettle on for the inevitable round of teas and coffees. As she walked into the kitchen, her eye was drawn to the checked tea towel she had carefully placed over the warm cakes before they had gone out. Though it wasn’t so much the tea towel that attracted her attention, but rather the large furry cat who was now curled up asleep on top of it.

  ‘Duchess!’ said Lottie, her tone sharp. The cat opened one eye and stretched, pointing her toes and baring her claws as she did so. ‘Get off the cakes!’ Initially the cat didn’t move, eyeing Lottie from her warm bed with disdain, so Lottie gave her ample rump a gentle prod. The Duchess reluctantly got to her feet and, seeming to sense that Lottie was not best pleased, she jumped down and slunk out of the kitchen.

  Lottie noted the large, cat-shaped dip in the tea towel and feared the worst. She tentatively lifted the fabric and her suspicions were confirmed. The once-pointy little cakes underneath were now squashed flat, some of them reduced to crumbs.