Page 39 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

“Which green to go with the red?” asked Fred, her finger hovering over the mouse. “British racing green, or forest green?”

It was Monday morning, and the Hallow-Hart women were sat around the kitchen table, making color decisions for the home page of the new website.

Fred had designed it as though you were looking in through a snowy window animation, with rich crimson drapes being pulled back by two Nutcracker dolls.

The view through the leaded windowpanes was of cushions in green velvet with gold brocade, upon which lay boxes of crackers showcasing Hallow-Hart paper designs from the last hundred years.

Sugar Plum Fairies skipped between the boxes, carrying examples of the treats to be found within: one pulled Martha’s silver necklace behind them; another balanced a wooden egg cup on her head; two more were playing house inside one of Dr. Bayley’s match striker cottages.

“Forest green, I think,” said Aunt Cam.

“Can we see it against the racing green?” asked Aunt Aggie.

“Sure.” Fred clicked between greens on the color palette, and the cushions changed color accordingly.

“Oh, I still don’t know!” Aunt Aggie groaned dramatically.

“Mum? What do you think? Mum?”

“Huh?” Bella looked up as though waking from a dream. Steam from the mug of coffee she was hugging in both hands curled up languidly to mist her reading glasses.

“You are well spaced out this morning,” Fred teased her, smiling. “Have you been at the ‘special cookies’?”

Her mum snorted a laugh and flapped a hand at Fred.

“Maybe she got lucky last night!” Aunt Aggie grinned, waggling her eyebrows up and down.

“I don’t think so, she was out with Liam,” Fred clarified.

Aunt Aggie opened her mouth to say something, but Aunt Cam placed a warning hand on her arm, and she snapped it shut again. The exchange seemed to rouse Bella from her reverie, though, because she put her coffee cup down and leaned over Fred’s shoulder to scrutinize the screen.

“Forest green,” she said. “Without a doubt.”

“Okay then, forest green cushions it is,” said Fred, clicking and saving the change.

“It looks fantastic, sweetheart,” her mum said, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

“That silly London advertising agency’s loss is our gain,” agreed Aunt Cam.

For the first time in a long while, Fred felt pleased with something she’d created. This was hers, from start to finish; and she wasn’t trying to sell a new energy drink or a pair of trainers for a faceless corporation, she was showcasing the artistry of the Hallow-Hart women.

She was filled with a sudden and urgent wish to show Ryan, because she knew he would want to see it all and know everything and want to celebrate this moment with her. But she checked herself. Shouldn’t Warren, the man she’d actually kissed, be the person she wanted to tell?

“What time are you opening the hut today?” asked Aunt Aggie.

“Eleven,” Bella replied. “Thought I’d take it easy, since it’s always quieter on Mondays.”

“Want me to come down with you?” Fred asked. “I can bring the laptop, carry on working.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m taking the dreaded accounts with me. I’m only staying open till four today. I’ve got to get some more crackers made, the Instagram posts you put up at the weekend generated twenty-five orders, all from new customers.”

“That’s great! I’ll make a start on the crackers while you’re at the market,” said Fred. To have her strategy translating into orders after only two posts was a buzz that whizzed through her like she had sherbet in her veins.

“Are you sure?” asked Bella.

“I’m not doing it as a favor, Mum,” Fred said, smirking. “If I’m joining the business, I’ll expect to be paid at some point.”

“Oh, absolutely. Of course, I need to think about how much I’ll keep back from your pay packet to cover your bed and board…” Bella tapped her chin with her forefinger, as though deep in thought.

“That won’t leave much,” Fred added, sagely. “I have made a serious dent in your biscuit stockpile, and your secret chocolate stash is secret no more.”

“Well, that explains that.” Bella laughed.

“I was beginning to think we had mice. But if you’re serious about making things official, we do need to sit down soon and work out what is fair in terms of salary.

I’m not sure we can match what you were earning in London.

But equally, you should find it cheaper living up here.

And of course, you are welcome to live here for as long as you want, rent free; this is your home, it always will be, wherever you end up in the world. ”

From out of nowhere, Fred was overcome with emotion. One minute she was fine, and the next moment her chest flooded with too many feelings at once. She pushed her chair out and went to her mum, throwing her arms around her and burying her head in her shoulder.

“I love you, Mum,” she sniffed, and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears.

“I love you too. Hey, where’s all this coming from?” Bella whispered.

“I just…” She couldn’t answer because she didn’t know how to put it into words.

Maybe it was gratitude that her family had never given up on her, even when she’d pushed them away.

Maybe it was knowing that she was loved unconditionally, despite feeling for the longest time like she didn’t deserve to be.

Or perhaps it was because she was finally allowing herself to feel again.

“It’s just that free rent means a lot to someone who’s lived in London,” she said finally, and her mum laughed softly.

“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but if I don’t eat second breakfast soon, I am liable to faint dead away,” said Aunt Aggie. And with that pans were heated, eggs were cracked and bacon sizzled.

—

When second breakfast was done, Fred made her way down the garden to the workshop.

With each new day, winter further tightened her icy grip on land and sky so that even the yolk-yellow sun had been bleached to a creamy pearl whose pale rays did little to penetrate the frozen landscape.

Down below, the waves crashed against the rocks and seabirds screeched as they rode the updraughts, arcing in and away from the cliffs.

She had to shove her shoulder against the door to loosen the ice that had sealed it.

It was barely warmer in the workshop than outside, and Fred quickly flicked on the lights and set about getting the wood burner going.

It wouldn’t take long to heat up, but she’d keep her coat and fingerless gloves on until then.

She logged into the business email and checked the orders, before laying out the things she would need to make the crackers.

The gentle repetition of rolling and tying helped to focus her mind; it had been swirling with thoughts of Ryan and Warren all day yesterday and looked set to continue into today.

She hadn’t heard from Warren since their encounter on the beach, and she guessed he’d been holed up at the pub with his laptop.

Ryan, on the other hand, had sent her through several ideas for things they could bury in their new updated time capsule.

True to his promise of zero pressure, he made no mention of his declaration in the sandpit.

She had to consider if it was wise to open a can of feelings when she’d just committed to staying in Pine Bluff for the foreseeable.

It wasn’t like the city, where you could avoid an ex if you needed to.

There was nowhere to hide in a small town.

But more than that, she felt like she’d only just got her best friend back—did she really want to risk ruining their friendship?

And what about Warren? As soon as his article was submitted, he’d go back to London, and she would stay here.

She supposed they could do long-distance casual: mini-breaks and booty calls every third weekend.

But did she want more than casual? And if she did want more, would she want it with him?

Her phone bleeped with a message. She finished rolling the cracker she’d been working on and opened it, peeling the glue from her finger pads as she read.

Hey, so I’d like to invite you out on an official date - one where I don’t invite other people along . Are you free tonight? I’m thinking Greek food.

It was Warren. Speak of the devil! Well , she thought to herself, Warren won’t be here forever , and thus far her evening plans amounted to watching Gogglebox reruns with the aunts. Maybe she shouldn’t overthink it.

As a matter of fact, I am free.

Great! Pick you up at 7?

Sounds good.

See you then. You should know I am having withdrawals from kissing you.

She smiled, enjoying the kick of pleasure that his words incited; and then she thought of Ryan, and the pleasure twisted into something like guilt. She shook herself. She wasn’t cheating on anybody. Ryan had asked her to think about whether she liked liked him, and she’d said that she would.

She messaged back.

Thank goodness I’m available tonight to sate your cravings.

Can’t wait!

She’d just chosen another paper from this year’s designs when another message came through.

She picked up her phone, expecting another message from Warren, but saw Ryan’s name instead and experienced another pleasure surge, this one with extra butterflies that fluttered around her diaphragm.

Bloody hell! Was this what playing with fire felt like?

Just saw your mum at the market. I’ve got the packaging through for the coffee cracker gifts. She said I could drop them up to you. Is that okay? Rx

This is why I don’t invite you up. I don’t get a chance, you keep inviting yourself. Fx

I gave you a whole day, and nothing. So, I’ve taken matters into my own hands. I’ll be up in twenty. Do you need a mocha? x

I always need a mocha. x

:)