by Cathy Lake
He nodded. ‘We gave the staff the day off for Christmas shopping and I’m on call, but it’s been quiet so far. I got the decorations down and put the tree up . . . then I got side-tracked.’
‘You put the tree up on your own?’
‘Yeah . . .’
Alyssa’s face contorted and her bottom lip trembled. ‘I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t like to think of you having to do all that alone.’
‘It’s fine, it is what it is.’
‘Please don’t do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘That dismissive thing that some men do. It’s not you and it doesn’t suit you.’
‘Sorry.’ He hung his head. He hadn’t meant to be dismissive, had, if anything, been trying to affect a nonchalant air as part of his new attitude towards Alyssa’s life choices. ‘It’s hard to get this right.’
‘I know.’ She nodded. ‘Look, Sam, I love you. You’re my big brother and I know you’ve only been looking out for me. I got really upset yesterday and finally spoke to Sebastian about everything. He said that it sounds like you’re just a very protective older brother and you clearly love me and want the best for me. He also said that if he had a younger sister, he’d be wary of any new man in her life. It seems that I’ve been hasty in getting so angry at you. I mean . . .’ She held out her hands. ‘Well, not exactly hasty, because you have always been this way, but I reacted strongly too, and I could have been more understanding of your feelings. Seb thinks you’re a great guy.’
‘Oh . . . right. Nice to know.’
‘You’d really get on if you gave him a chance.’
‘I want to get to know him, Alyssa. I want to be the brother you want . . . I promise there will be no more overbearing big brother from me. Instead, I’ll be supportive and here for you if you need me.’
‘I will always need you, you dolt! You’re my best friend. Don’t you know that?’ Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving glistening streaks in their wake and she opened her arms to him. ‘Come here, for goodness’ sake!’
He knelt down and hugged her, waves of relief leaving him breathless.
‘Do you have to get straight back?’ he asked.
‘No, I have some time.’
‘I don’t suppose you fancy helping me with the tree, do you?’
She started to laugh, then squeezed his shoulders.
‘Of course I’ll help you decorate the tree. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Also – do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.’
‘I’ll make some food and hot chocolate and we can have our typical festive evening of tree decorating.’
‘That sounds perfect.’
She high-fived him and Sam felt as if he would burst with happiness.
Two hours later, it was pitch-black outside, but in Sam’s lounge it was warm and cosy. He had made dinner for Alyssa, they’d had two hot chocolates each, and the tree looked amazing. White fairy lights twinkled on the branches and it was hung with ornaments from over the years, including a snowman that Sam had made from clay in primary school and a tin fairy on the top of the tree that Alyssa had made in Design and Technology.
‘Your artistic talents were definitely evident when you were still at school,’ Sam said now as they relaxed on the sofa, Scout between them.
‘Yours weren’t.’ Alyssa giggled. ‘That snowman looks like he’s melting.’
‘Hey! I was six and I’ll have you know that Mum said it was the best snowman she’d ever seen.’ He winced, realising what he’d said. Alyssa had never been able to present their mother with one of her creations. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’ Alyssa turned to face him.
‘Well, you didn’t get to give Mum your angel.’
‘No, but I gave it to you, and you said it was the most amazing angel you’d ever seen. I was so proud. Dad liked it too.’
‘He did.’ Sam nodded. ‘It sat on top of the tree for years.’
‘And now it’s here.’
‘You should take it with you,’ he said, sitting upright. ‘To your new home.’
‘Sam, I haven’t officially moved in yet, because we want to wait until the New Year, but Seb has told his daughter that I’m staying over Christmas.’
‘Well, when you’re properly settled, take it.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I want you to keep it.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course. I just can’t bear to leave the wonky snowman alone with all the other lovely ornaments.’ She winked at him. ‘He’ll feel so unattractive and old.’
‘Shut up!’ He laughed. ‘Another hot chocolate?’
‘Go on then. Just one more, though, because Seb’s picking me up in half an hour.’
Sam made the drinks, then returned to the lounge.
‘So you’re really happy then?’ He watched her face, admiring the shine in her eyes and her easy smile.
‘I am. I know that things could go wrong.’ She cradled her flat belly. ‘I know this might not last. Not all pregnancies are viable, and it is incredibly early days, but even so, I have hope.’
‘Hope is important.’
‘Extremely important.’ She reached across Scout and took Sam’s hand. ‘You always gave me hope, Sam.’
‘I did?’
‘When I was lying in that hospital bed after the accident, dosed up on painkillers and waiting for the scan to see if I had lost the baby, your words gave me hope. Even after I’d found out that the baby was gone and that I’d probably never walk again, you promised me that my life wasn’t over, that it could go on, just differently.’
‘I don’t remember a lot from that time.’
‘I’m not surprised. You were functioning on no sleep, worried out of your mind and rushing from work to the hospital and back again. You were exhausted, but you were always there. You are amazing, Sam, and I’m so grateful to have you as my brother.’
‘I-I haven’t always been as supportive as I could have been, though, have I?’
‘You’ve tried, and that’s what matters.’
‘Look, I have to tell you something. I can’t keep it to myself any longer. When you were born, and we lost Mum? Well, I resented you sometimes. I hate myself for it now, but I did.’
‘But that’s natural, Sam. I hated myself for it over the years as well, so of course you would and Dad must have too. You’re only human, you know, though I suspect you’d have been a superhero if you’d had the choice.’
‘I’m so sorry for that resentment.’
‘Sam, you were twelve! Just a boy! You lost your mum and gained a squawking baby. Your dad fell apart. I’m not surprised you felt some resentment towards me, but what matters isn’t that you had feelings like that but the good ones you had and the good things you did. You took care of me when Dad couldn’t, you were there for me, have been there for me all my life.’
Sam sipped his wine and gazed at the tree. Alyssa’s artistic flair was evident in the way she’d carefully selected ornaments and hung them to create a beautiful effect. She’d also had him lift her up so she could drape lights around the windows and the doorways and now it was like being inside a fairy cavern or Santa’s grotto.
‘I’m also sorry for arguing with you that day.’
‘Again, don’t. What’s done is done and it wasn’t your fault that I stormed out and got on my bike. I blamed myself for that too, but ultimately, we can’t carry blame for the rest of our lives. If we’re being completely honest, after the accident there were times when I resented you for being able to walk. Feelings are natural, but they come and go. We are good people, Sam, and we both deserve to be happy. And on that note, before Sebastian arrives, I want you to tell me more about the lovely Clare.’
Sam lowered his gaze to his glass, feeling his cheeks warming. Could he tell Alyssa about Clare? Could he share the feelings he had for her that were so new and confusing, so delightful, exciting and hopeful?
‘We’re just really good friends.’ He smiled shyly.
‘Sam, I’ll forgive you for everything else, but you had better tell me what’s going on with you and Clare or I’ll never forgive you. A sister has a right to know.’ She gave him a teasing glare.
‘Your tune has changed.’ He laughed.
‘You’d better believe it, big brother. Come on, tell me everything.’
‘OK . . .’
And he told her about how Clare had come into his life, had rocked his world and how he was crazy about her. It felt good to share his feelings with his sister and to see her obvious delight that her brother had, at last, found someone else to care for.
Chapter 26
Clare woke suddenly as if emerging from under water. She sat up in bed and looked around the room. What had woken her? She grabbed her phone off the bedside table and peered at the screen.
Five a.m.
What the . . . ?
Her heart raced and she tried to shake off the sludgy feeling of the dream she’d been having. Something about a dog chasing her and a snarling feral cat scratching at her ankles, then hiding in a huge melting welly.
So weird.
It was probably show-related anxiety that had prevented her from sleeping well. She took a drink from the glass of water on her bedside table, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She was still getting used to sleeping in a single bed, even though after Jason had left, she had stuck to her side of their double, unable to spread out because it didn’t feel right. Now, though, she felt as if a bit more room would be a good thing.
Standing up, she stretched, hearing some of her joints click, then went to the window. She opened the curtains and gasped, because in the street light just outside her mum’s cottage, she could see that everything was white. The forecast had predicted a possibility of snow but not a heavy snowfall.
This was certainly heavy – and it was still going.
‘Damn it!’
Snow made getting to the shops difficult, yes, but she’d done her Christmas shopping yesterday with Jenny, and she’d planned on doing the big food shop in the week, getting some of it at the local farm shop. Her mum had already ordered a turkey from the farm and they were also going to deliver a veg box.
But today was the Christmas Show! The day that she’d planned and worried about for weeks. The show that Kyle, her mum and many other people had put a lot of effort into preparing, that had cost money to organise, that was meant to be the highlight of the festive calendar.
‘Double damn it!’
Would the snow stop the show?
Of course not, it was a village show and most of the performers and people coming to watch it were local, but it might alter the proceedings a bit. There might be a few people coming to watch from outside the village who’d be affected. However . . . her thoughts started to race . . . two of the acts didn’t live in Little Bramble. The singing bulldog and his owner, Amanda, lived a fifteen-minute drive away, and then there was Alyssa with her beautiful a capella version of the Mariah Carey hit. Sam would be devastated if Alyssa couldn’t make it. And what about the ice sculptures that were meant to be delivered that afternoon from the sculptor Clare had found in Richmond? As a special touch, she’d commissioned two ice sculptures to stand outside the village hall. One was of Santa Claus in his sleigh and the other was of a snowman. Clare had thought people arriving could have photos taken with them and it could be a new tradition for the annual Christmas show. It had been sparked by something Sam had said to her about a book he’d read and she hadn’t told him about it yet, thinking it would be a nice surprise for him too, something they could enjoy together.
There was a gentle tap at her door.
‘Hello?’
The door swung slowly open and Elaine stood there in pyjamas and a silky dressing gown, her hair sticking out in waves, as though she’d plugged her finger in an electric socket.
‘Clare!’ Elaine rushed over to the window and they both stared out at the fat white flakes that drifted towards the ground, adding to the depths of the snow that had already fallen. ‘Look!’
‘I know. I had no idea we were expecting this. What are we going to do? Will we have to cancel?’
Her mum pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin.
‘Absolutely not! We are not cancelling this evening come hell or high water. Far too much is riding on this event.’
‘But how will people get there? The roads will be blocked and it will be cold – and you know how it is whenever it snows in England, Mum. Things come to a standstill.’
‘Not here, my darling daughter. People can wrap up warm and walk if they’re local. A few flakes of snow aren’t going to ruin things, not after all your hard work.’ Her mum squeezed her arm. ‘Whatever happens, Clare, the show must go on!’
Clare nodded, drawing strength from her mum’s conviction. This was the strongest, the most positive she had seen her since she’d returned to the village. Whether it was down to the vicar, the show, or having Kyle and Clare around, she didn’t know, but whatever it was, Clare was grateful for Elaine’s strength right now.
‘Come on, let’s get the kettle on and have some breakfast, then we can start phoning around.’ Elaine met Clare’s eyes. ‘Don’t look so worried, Clare. Your old mum is here and I promise you that I won’t let you down. Not today!’
She turned, her silky dressing gown billowing around her legs like the skirt of a Flamenco dancer, then strode across the hall and down the stairs. Clare took one more glance out of the window, then hurried after her mum, relieved to hand control over to someone else for a change, to be the one being rescued and not the rescuer.
The village resembled a scene on a Christmas card. Everything had a thick white covering of snow and, as Clare and Kyle trudged towards the village hall, she experienced a flash of excitement. It was, she knew, linked to childhood joy at any amount of snowfall.
‘It’s so pretty,’ Kyle said, panting with the effort of lifting his legs high to plough through the drifts.
‘I just hope they can get a snowplough or a tractor out to clear some of it.’
‘What? Where’s your sense of adventure, Mum?’
‘Oh, it is still there, just not today. Why couldn’t it have snowed tomorrow instead? I do love snow, Kyle, I really do, but this could ruin the whole show because people might not want to come out in it. A lot of the villagers are elderly and their family members coming from outside the village to watch won’t be able to get here and –’
‘It’ll be OK.’ Kyle reached for her hand and squeezed it.
‘I hope so. It would be such a shame if it all went wrong now.’
They neared the green and Clare paused. She had to admire the view, even though the snow was badly timed.
The morning was dark, the thick clouds blocking the sunlight, but someone had thought to switch the tree lights on and they glowed prettily and colourfully at the centre of the green as snowflakes drifted down. Fairy lights strung from trees and lamp posts surrounding the green twinkled, making the whole scene incredibly festive; it reminded her of a scene straight out of a Charles Dickens’ novel.
‘See . . .’ Kyle nudged her. ‘Isn’t that just beautiful?’
‘It is.’
‘I feel so Christmassy! I can’t wait for this evening.’
He leant forwards and grabbed a handful of snow, then patted it into a ball. Clare looked at him, then at the snowball.
‘You wouldn’t!’
He gave her a wicked grin, his eyes widened, then he raised his arm.
‘No!’ Clare started to run, or at least she tried to, but the covering of snow on the ground made it very difficult to move quickly. Her feet slipped and she lurched from side to side, giggling with excited fear as Kyle closed in on her.
When the snowball hit her back, she squealed and turned, then grabbed a handful of snow and shaped it between her hands.
‘You are SO in for it now!’
Kyle shrieked and tried to run in the opposite direction,
but he lost his footing and faceplanted into a snowdrift. Clare hurried over to him and patted his shoulder.
‘Kyle? Are you all right? Kyle?’
He rolled over, his eyes and mouth filled with snow, which he scooped out with his fingers.
‘Are you hurt?’ Panic was tingling at Clare’s edges now, but Kyle started laughing as he sat up and relief flooded through her.
‘That was fun!’ He accepted her outstretched hand. ‘Let’s go again.’
Clare was about to flee, but he hit her in the chin with a snowball before she could extract her wellies from the snow.
‘Kyle! I can’t believe you did that.’
‘Truce?’ he asked, his cheeks red, his eyes bright.
‘I think so, don’t you? Or we’ll never get to the hall.’
They trudged on together, laughter making them breathless. Everything felt surreal because the snow muffled all noise; it was as if a thick blanket had been thrown over Little Bramble with plumped-up cold white pillows plopped onto roofs and treetops. If Clare hadn’t known it was 11 a.m., she would have thought it was late afternoon and that it would soon be completely dark.
When they reached the village hall, they kicked their boots against the bottom step, trying to dislodge snow from the treads. Lights glowed inside and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad that at least one person had managed to get there to put the heating on and to open up.
Kyle shrugged out of his backpack. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on, shall I? And make us one of those instant hot chocolates that you had the foresight to pack?’
‘Please.’ Clare nodded.
After their snowball fight and the exertion, she felt clammy and knew that it would soon turn to cold. Time to get inside and see what they could salvage of the show.
The snow had been falling all day and Sam couldn’t help worrying about how Alyssa would get to Little Bramble. She’d sent him a text around lunchtime, which he’d answered as soon as he’d finished his examination of a local cat brought in by its concerned owner, Gladys Treharne. The cat had been gaining weight, in spite of not being fed more, and the elderly lady who owned it was concerned that her darling Clawdius had a tumour or some other horror growing in his belly. However, Sam had soon diagnosed late pregnancy, something that was quite unusual for the time of year, as kitten season tended to run from spring to late autumn, and told her to take the cat home and keep her warm and rested. It looked like there would be kittens within days, so he promised to check in on them after the weekend. Magnus had helped the lady home, carrying the cat carrier, and Sam had been left shaking his head, amazed that Gladys had trekked through the snow to the surgery and that she’d thought her cat was male. Apparently, a friend had given her Clawdius to care for while she went on holiday, then decided to move to Spain, so Gladys had happily kept her, unaware of her gender.