Page 118 of Barging In

Clem passed her armful of presents to Victoria and knocked on her parents’ front door. Her dad answered almost immediately.

“Ah, there you two are,” he said, relief flooding his face as he pulled Clem into a hug and then nodded to Victoria. “Merry Christmas to you both. Your mum was about to send me round to collect you.”

“Merry Christmas,” she sighed as they stepped into the beautifully refurbished hallway. There were definite drawbacks to living next door to her parents, as she had found out over the last few months. She had to hope her mum was less likely to just pop by once she’d moved in with Victoria. Why did she have to fall for the woman living next door to her parents, of all people?

Her mum appeared, wearing an apron, and wrapped Clem in a hug. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

“Merry Christmas, Mum,” Clem replied,taking in the festive décor inside.

The last Christmas they had spent in the house hadn’t been to celebrate. There had been no decorations then, only the sad task of sorting Gram’s belongings. Now, though, everything looked exactly as it had when Gram was alive, as if Christmases past had been frozen in time.

“You kept all the decorations,” Clem said softly, her gaze sweeping over the slightly mismatched colours and chaotic mix of treasures Gram had collected over the years. Lanterns Clem had made as a child dangled from the ceiling, and paper chains cut from old scraps of wrapping paper draped across the hall and down the stairs. Every piece held a story, and every piece was in its place.

“Of course I did,” her mum said firmly. “She might not be here, but I wanted it to feel like she was with us.”

Clem nodded, eyes pricking with tears. “She is with us.”

Her mum hummed her agreement and patted Clem’s arm. “Go through. Your dad will sort you out with something to drink, won’t you, Tom?”

“Yes, dear,” he replied dutifully.

“Lunch won’t be very long,” her mum called out as she trundled back to the kitchen.

Clem dabbed her tears with her sleeve as Victoria slipped an arm around her shoulder.

“What happened to your old car, Victoria?” her dad asked as he led them into the festively decorated sitting room.

“I’m clearing out the last remnants of the past, Tom.”

“Good for you. Shame, though — it was a lovely motor. That new one’s nice, too. Plenty of space, even room for knees in the back seat.” He chuckled.

“Oh, is it a family car?” Clem’s mum asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway with a tray of canapés, face alight with anticipation.

“It’s just a car, Mum!” Clem tutted. “You know, five seats, goes from A to B. Practical.”

Her mum set the tray on the coffee table and headed back to the kitchen, lips pursed.

“Oh, Victoria! While I remember,” her dad said, moving closer as she placed presents under the Christmas tree, “I think we should trim the hedge between our driveways.”

Clem groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted was her mum monitoring their comings and goings.

“That’s fine,” Victoria said. “It could certainly do with tidying up a bit. I don’t recall it ever being cut.”

“It must be over twelve feet, but don’t worry, we won’t go too short. I know you’ll want your privacy from oldSticky Beak,” Clem’s dad said, nodding towards the kitchen.

Clem let out a breath of relief. She could always rely on her dad to circumnavigate her mum and her ‘ways’.

As they settled onto the sofa, Clem admired the room. It was such a contrast to how it had felt on previous Christmases. A new cast-iron, traditional fireplace occupied the old hearth, and brand-new furniture filled the space — except for Gram’s threadbare old chair. That remained where it had always stood, unchanged, as if time had simply moved around it.

“Do you think you’ll need me again next year as Father Christmas?” her dad asked her, pouring champagne into two glasses. “I really enjoyed it.”

“I think so, don’t you?” Clem said, looking to Victoria for the final response.

“Absolutely. You did a great job.”

Her dad beamed and handed them their drinks.

“It was lovely to see all the children’s faces, thinking I was the real Father Christmas. Though I’m not sure your mum quite cut it as an elf.”