Last Christmas: A The Girl Before Eve Christmas Novella

by Lisa J. Hobman

  “Hey, are you okay, sweetheart?”

  She turned her head to meet my gaze. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “No reason. You just… you looked a little preoccupied just then. Like you’d drifted off somewhere.”

  She smiled. “No, everything’s fine. Now how about I go and make us some fresh coffee and you go light a fire, eh?”

  She kissed my cheek before clambering out of bed and tiptoeing quickly to the bathroom. I watched her naked arse as she hurried off.

  Oh, how I loved her arse.

  The living room was reminiscent of Ice Station Zebra. I was down on all fours clearing out the fire grate by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Every time I gazed upon this year’s fine foliage, I was reminded of the decorating session that had descended into nakedness and giggles.

  Finding the perfect tree was always a major task. Lily had her own ideas of what made the best specimen of festivity to grace our home. Once this year’s freshly fragranced spruce was in situ and I had gathered the box of decorations from the loft, we were good to go.

  It didn’t matter how artfully I attempted to place the baubles and trinkets, I knew of old that Lily would remove them and replace them elsewhere when my back was turned.

  This year I had a plan to use this trait to my advantage. As we stood inhaling the pine scent and admiring the perfectly formed branches, I slipped my arms around her waist and rested my head on her shoulder. “I have a proposition for you, wifey.”

  She turned her head to the side and eyed me suspiciously. “Oh, yes? And what would that be?”

  “Every time I see you moving one of the decorations I’ve hung, you have to remove an item of your clothing.”

  She laughed. “Oh, really? And how do I benefit from this little game of yours?”

  “Ah… well… every time you leave one of my decorations on without moving it, I take off an item of clothing.”

  With a wide, sexy, sultry smile she turned to fully face me and held out her hand. “Deal.” We shook on it and I knew that I was in a win-win situation.

  I made it my mission from the second after the handshake to clump the ornaments together in as haphazard a manner as I could manage. What can I say? I liked my wife’s naked curves.

  I watched as she fought internally with herself to go against her usual behaviour. It was hilarious to see her seething and leaving my mess on the tree just so that I would end up naked first. On the odd occasion she couldn’t resist, however, and the gaudy Santa ornament that I’d had since my childhood—which I felt needed pride of place front and centre—was rapidly moved to a less prominent place on the tree.

  And off came her long sleeved top…

  I was down to my boxers and T-shirt as The Darkness ironically sang “Don’t let the Bells End”, and I was chuckling to myself at Lily’s restraint. The ugly snowman that I had purchased from a charity shop purposefully to drive her mad was my next ornament of choice. I gasped with mock horror when the poor thing was removed and placed at the back of the tree.

  And off came her yoga pants…

  Lily hated tinsel. That one thing was the ace up my sleeve. Devious, I know, but cunning all the same. I yanked a balding strand from the box. A strand that Lily had tried to throw away the previous year but that I had rescued with a view to forging a dastardly plot. And now was my time to put it into force. With a great flourish as I whistled along to the Christmas CD, I draped the sparsely twinkled, multi-coloured strip around the tree from top to bottom.

  As if acting purely on instinct Lily muttered, “Oh, absolutely no way,” before dragging the dishevelled garland off and throwing it to the floor with a huff.

  Realising what she had done, she snapped her face around to me, opening and closing her mouth with a cheeky grin and giggling uncontrollably.

  “But… I… you know how I… You did that on purpose, you shit. Oh, bollocks, off with my bra then, eh?”

  I’ll suffice it to say that we ended up rolling around the floor in our birthday suits as Mariah Carey announced her Christmas wish in song.

  Back in the present and I was thankful for the fact that it was Saturday but I was very much aware that I had a stack of paperwork to do whilst Lily went out shopping to Edinburgh with her friend from the TV station. I wasn’t sure which was worse, ploughing through the crowds of shoppers in Edinburgh city at this time of year or curriculum and lesson planning for the post-Christmas term, although I was happy that I would be doing my work in front of a roaring fire. The prospect of heading out into the icy temperature didn’t really appeal no matter how wonderful the atmosphere was at this time of year.

  Monty, my four legged canine friend, stood beside me, tail wagging as he waited for his favourite place to be warm enough for the first of today’s many naps. Bloody hard life being a dog, eh? I turned my face toward him and smirked. His tongue lolled out the corner of his mouth as if I were preparing a steak dinner.

  “You’re bloody mad, dog. You know that?” He stepped forward and dragged his long, wet tongue up my stubbled cheek. “Urgh! Thanks, mate. Been eating out of the rubbish bin again, have you?” A little impatient grumble left his throat and he flopped down to the rug, resting his head on his paws.

  Lily appeared from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of fresh coffee. The earthy aroma drifted and mingled with the scent of pine, and I smiled. Two of the nicest smells that have ever graced my nostrils. She handed me a mug and grasped the handle before taking a tentative sip at the brown elixir.

  I loved Christmas. Lily was like a big kid at this time of year in spite of her protestations to the contrary. She couldn’t fool me. I had seen the glow on her cheeks and the light in her eyes for many years during the festive season, and I loved our Christmas routines. In fact at that very moment, sitting there on the rug beside the twinkling tree with my gorgeous wife and our daft dog, I realised that my life was pretty bloody perfect exactly as it was. I wouldn’t have changed a single thing. Well… apart from adding a little one into the mix. But that would happen eventually. And in the meantime I could just relish the fact that everything was good in my little world. And that felt fan-bloody-tastic.

  “What time are you going out, Lil?” I asked over my shoulder as I placed my mug back down and carried on with lighting the fire.

  Chapter 3

  Driving Home for Christmas—Chris Rea

  Lily

  The short drive from home into Edinburgh was so cold. Moving from Jedburgh to our not-so-new house on the edge of the city meant that the journey time had been pretty much halved. There wasn’t really time for the heater in the car to actually do its job, and I could see my breath as I sang along to Frank & Bing’s Christmas Classics playing full blast. People passing me on the opposite side of the road must have thought I was talking to myself… or more like arguing with myself as I sang as loud as I could manage, face contorting into all sorts of ridiculous expressions no doubt. I didn’t care what people thought. I never really had if the truth be told. Well… apart from Adam. His opinion was the one I had always valued above everyone’s. Right from when we were kids, his approval had always meant so much to me.

  Singing was taking my mind off everything that I had stomping around in my brain. And boy was there a lot to think about. But I just wasn’t ready. I had some very big decisions ahead and Adam knew nothing of my inner turmoil. Not yet. I wasn’t sure how to tell him. What to say. I wasn’t sure how he would react to such a huge change in our lives, and so avoidance was my chosen tactic. Until it would be impossible to keep to myself anymore, that is.

  I pulled into the car park off St James’s Place and waved at Ellie, my friend from the TV station. She was standing beside her four-wheel drive, stamping from foot to foot, and was wrapped up in a thick coat and a snood so that just her face was visible. Why she hadn’t waited inside the car was a mystery. Daft bloody woman. I climbed out of my car and pulled on my brightly coloured woolly hat and gloves.

  Once I reached Ellie we h
ugged, and as she pulled away she shivered dramatically. “G-good grief, Lil, whose idea was it to go shopping today? It’s like the bloody Arctic out here.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  I gasped in mock disgust at any possible insinuation that I had been the one to suggest the Christmas shopping trip. “I seem to remember it being your idea, thank you very much, Ellie Sykes. And yes, it’s so bloody cold I think my nipples might just snap off so, we’d better get moving.”

  Ellie snorted with laughter and we made our way toward Princes Street where the majority of Edinburgh’s stores were situated, along with the European Christmas market that arrived annually. But of course the first stop was a little coffee shop called Patisserie Valerie on Rose Street. We needed to warm up and the fact that they made the most delicious pastries was an added bonus.

  A blast of heat welcomed us as we stepped inside along with the delicious aroma of spiced apple tea and fresh pine that wafted through the warm air of the café. Nat King Cole sang about roast chestnuts and turkey, and my stomach gave a loud, appreciative rumble which I hoped no one else had heard. A little tree sat beside the counter, and I guessed that was where the pine scent was drifting from. Its twinkling lights and traditional wooden ornaments added to the atmosphere of Christmas cheer that our festive shopping trip had sparked within me.

  Taking a table for two by a radiator, we sat and perused the menu as we chatted about what we fancied to nibble on. The friendly young waitress recommended her favourites to us, and we joked about how we were spoiled for choice. After we settled on tea for two and a sweet mince pie each, our waitress jotted down the order and left us. I was beginning to thaw out nicely and shrugged out of my thick winter coat, turning to hang it on the back of my chair. When I glanced around again I was greeted with a look of concern etched on Ellie’s face.

  “What?” I tried to laugh it off but knew Ellie of old. She was a Yorkshire lass with a tenacious streak and I was about to be interrogated.

  She tucked her blonde tresses behind her ears—which was always a sign that she meant business—rolled her eyes, and shook her head in exasperation. “You know very well what. Have you told Adam your news yet?”

  Yup, straight for the jugular.

  I blew the air from my lungs through pursed lips. “No.” The despondent edge to my voice couldn’t be hidden, and I regretted immediately that I hadn’t attempted to be a little more positive about things in my response. I lowered my gaze again and twisted the white gold band around my wedding ring finger.

  When I lifted my face again the concern had been replaced by pity. That was even worse. The crease between Ellie’s brows had gone and her eyes had softened.

  She reached across the table and squeezed my forearm. “I just… I don’t get why you can’t tell him, Lil. What are you afraid of?”

  It was a very valid question. What was I afraid of? Losing him? Maybe. “I’m just not sure how he’ll react, that’s all. He may be angry.”

  She snorted derisively. “Are you mad? Angry? I think you know him better than that. For goodness’ sake, you’ve been married for two years, but you’ve known him forever. Come on, Lily. Be reasonable. And give him more credit.”

  She was right of course. But I couldn’t help the niggle in the back of mind that still tugged at me. The little seed of doubt that set in whenever I was worried or whenever things changed. It was worry of my own making. Adam had never once in the last four years given me a reason to doubt his feelings for me. But I had loved him for so long, and that love had remained unrequited for so long, that on occasion his sudden change of heart still seemed too good to be true. It was something I’d had to learn to swallow down. It had caused arguments at first, and I was still terrified of losing him.

  “I’ll tell him. I will. I just have to choose the right time. Anyway, have you brought your shopping list?” I was desperate to change the subject. I needed to think things through before any steps were taken to discuss things with Adam. Pressure from my friend wasn’t helping.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I know what you’re doing, Lily Langton. Just… don’t go through this alone, okay? If you can’t tell Adam yet, then at least talk to me. Please?”

  I nodded and smiled. It was sweet of her to offer to be my confidante, and I trusted her implicitly, but I just wanted to forget about things for a while and move on. “Anyway, about that list.”

  Chapter 4

  Blue Christmas—Willie Nelson

  Adam

  I needed more coffee.

  Planning for the post-Christmas term was bloody hard work, and I had been toiling at it since Lil had left to go shopping. Papers were strewn all over the dining table, and the temperature in the house had dropped thanks to the fact that I had almost allowed the fire to die out. Before making myself what possibly would be my tenth cup of the day, I decided to stoke the embers and try and get the thing going again. Working with icicles for fingers was only slowing me down.

  Down on my hands and knees again, I piled logs onto the glowing embers in the grate and blew gently to encourage a flame or two. My mind drifted back to Lily and her behaviour before she left. She had seemed distant again. Something was going on, and I was determined to find out what. It wasn’t like her to be a closed book, and that seemed cause for concern. Whilst I’d been working, I had managed to push it to the back of my mind, but sitting there during my break it began to prey on my mind again.

  She had been staring into space that morning as we had sat drinking our coffee, and I had asked if she was okay.

  “Me? Pfft. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” She brushed off my question and suddenly stood up. “Urgh… feeling a bit crappy actually. Might just go brush my teeth and go to the loo again before I set off.” Without finishing her drink, she had rushed out of the room and up the stairs, leaving me to wonder what was going on. My instant urge was to follow and demand she tell me why she acting so odd. But I didn’t. I knew what I hoped was going on but couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t be open with me.

  As I sat there pondering, the phone rang and dragged me away from my thoughts. “Hello?”

  “Hi, deary. It’s just me… it’s Mum.” I stifled a chuckle. She always felt it necessary to tell me who she was… as if I wouldn’t realise.

  I was determined one of these days to jump in first with a panicked “Who is this and why are you calling me?” or to reply to her with “Oh, it’s you! I didn’t recognise your voice.” But instead I gave my usual reply. “Hi, Mum. How are you doing?”

  “Oh, not bad. Your dad is painting the spare room, so I thought I would give you a quick call.”

  My dad was always decorating something. It was like he couldn’t relax. Ever since he retired, the whole house had been redecorated several times. Once it was done, he’d simply start over again. And the daft thing was, it was always with the same colours.

  “Oh, right. Again?”

  “Yes, you know your dad. Apparently it needed a freshen up.”

  I shook my head and smirked. “Have you got people coming to stay or something?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. But as soon as Malcolm found out there was another royal baby on the way, he set to it.”

  And trigger another stifled laugh. Anyone would think the royal family had put out some kind of ridiculous decree: “And so on the day of this wonderful announcement, sayeth the Queen that all spare rooms shall require a freshen up.” I had absolutely no idea of the relevance or connection of the latest royal pregnancy to my parents’ spare bedroom and decided not to push my mum further on the matter. I really didn’t have the time.

  “Ah… okaaaay.” The fact that she wasn’t standing in front of me meant that I resisted circling my finger around my ear to indicate that he was, in actual fact, loopy. It would’ve been a wasted gesture.

  As if there was nothing strange going on and as if we hadn’t just had a very bizarre conversation, she asked breezily, “So what have you and my lovely daughter-in-law be
en up to this week?”

  I shrugged, in spite of the fact she couldn’t see me. “Nothing much to be honest… although…”

  “Although what, Adam?” That clearly sparked her interest.

  “Erm, it’s nothing. Well, it’s probably nothing.”

  She sighed and I knew that opening my mouth had been a mistake. I could imagine her standing there with her hand on her hip, head tilted to one side, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. “Come on, young man. Out with it.”

  “I’m… I’m probably imagining it. I mean, she’s gone out shopping and she seemed fine when she went…”

  “Was something wrong before she went?” She sounded intrigued and a little concerned.

  Okay, she’s not going to drop this now. Time to fess up, Langton. “She’s been… a bit strange.”

  “In what way, deary?” An edge of worry tinged her voice. “Strange negative or strange positive?”

  Is there even such a thing as strange positive? “You know… Distant. Drifting off into her own little world. Looking wistful. Lots of long pauses. Then making excuses and leaving the room.”

  There was a dramatic gasp down the line. “Oh my goodness, Adam. Do you know what this means?”

  “She’s auditioning for a part in a film noir?” I chuckled.

  “Good grief, son, be serious for once in your life,” Mum snapped.

  Taken aback by her annoyance, I cringed. “Sorry. Go on. What do you think it means?”

  “Acting strange, wistful, rushing off out the room. She’s… she’s pregnant, Adam!” My mum’s high pitched squeal of delight almost pierced my eardrum, and I pulled the receiver away from the vicinity of my poor auditory canal.