Home for Christmas

Chapter 20

I was up extra early the next morning but made sure I didn’t make too much noise as I made an extra flock of fairies for the Wynthorpe Hall Festive Fair and was then free to get on with decorating the house, because Jude’s bedroom door was closed and there was no sound from within. I was still feeling the sting of what he’d said about my cold, untouched heart. And okay, he might not have put it quite as bluntly as that, but that was the implication, wasn’t it?

Zero emotional investment in relationships had kept me safe in the past. Having seen how broken Mum, Grandad and even Jeanie had been as a result of whole-heart investment, I had been grateful for that, but now I was teetering dangerously close to questioning whether my way, and Mum’s way, was the right way.

What was it that Tennyson had said about it being better to have loved and lost? Why did folk think that was better, I wondered? What was it that was so great about love? It hadn’t done Mum any favours, my grandparents had been fine, I supposed… but only until the end. And the feelings I’d developed for Jude had stirred up a cauldron of emotions mostly made up of confusion, denial and fear. There was nothing great about that, was there?

But Jeanie’s new romance, along with Holly’s more established one, made me think about the good things, which I had never experienced – as well as the bad, of which I’d had more than my fair share.

More thinking about Jude and the incredible kiss we’d shared in the porch then ensued, until a thud from his room alerted me to the fact that he was finally awake.

‘Bella!’ he shouted, his voice muffled. ‘Are you out there? Can you give me a hand, please?’

I rushed into his room and found him wrapped up in the T-shirt he must have slept in, which he was trying to pull off.

‘I’m stuck!’ he said from the depths, his voice muffled by the fabric. ‘Can you help me get this damn thing off?’

‘Just a sec,’ I replied.

‘I can’t believe I’m aching even more than I was yesterday,’ he groaned.

‘The staff at the hospital did say that might be a possibility,’ I reminded him, as I focused on the twisted fabric rather than the clearly defined muscles in his arms and the breadth of his chest. ‘You’re bound to hit the pain peak soon.’

‘I bloody hope so,’ he said, as I gently released him from the material and his shoulders relaxed.

Lust, I then remembered. That was another emotion that had come along with those other feelings I’d previously been having about him and that I was now experiencing a libido-lifting dose of again, in spite of the fact that poor Jude was feeling so uncomfortable and was making no effort to look appealing. His bruises were extensive and livid in colour.

Lust was a fling-induced feeling, too, I reminded myself as I looked away. I could actually tick that box with nothing more involved than a well-timed brief encounter.

‘How about I get you some fresh water to drink with your first meds of the day?’ I suggested brightly, pulling my thoughts back to where they should be, ‘and then I’ll get the shower warmed up for you.’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said, sounding forlorn. ‘I really don’t expect you to do anything further for me, Bella. It’s enough that you’ve let me move back in here again.’

‘You’re feeling really rough this morning, aren’t you?’ I said, looking right at him.

‘Um,’ he said, nodding, and I didn’t think it would take much for him to shed a tear or two.

‘In that case,’ I said more softly, ‘let me help you, okay? By the time your meds have kicked in and your muscles have loosened up a bit in the shower, I could have a bacon roll on the table with your name on it and a fresh pot of tea to go with it. I was about to make both for myself anyway,’ I added quickly before he had time to object.

‘All right,’ he relented with a grateful smile. ‘That does sound good. Thank you.’

‘And then you can help me unpack the boxes of decorations,’ I said, making for the ensuite, ‘or at least point me in the direction of where you think I should unpack them.’

‘So,’ said Jude a couple of hours later as he stood holding the ladder, while I set about festooning the sitting room ceiling with Christmas hanging paper decorations in the shape of snowflakes, hearts and stars, while my seasonal Spotify playlist quietly but enthusiastically serenaded us, ‘you put everything up now, other than the tree.’

‘That’s right,’ I told him. ‘And I always start with these going up on the ceiling, and then work my way down.’

That was how we’d always done it when I was growing up. Grandad would be up the ladder with Nanna steadying it, and then I’d get involved as we worked our way down to a level that was more accessible for me. I had wanted to hang the ceiling decs when I was old enough to reach and Grandad was getting a little frail, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every year, we followed the same pattern and routine, and I was enthusiastically continuing it. Everything went up in the same place, and the memories of the four of us happily celebrating Christmas all together and with no time pressure came thick and fast.

‘And you have decorations in all the rooms?’ Jude asked.

‘Of course,’ I nodded, as if that was obvious. ‘Even the bathroom.’

‘So why no tree?’ He frowned, not commenting on the bathroom decs.

‘Because the Wynbridge tree and greenery auction doesn’t happen until the second Saturday in December,’ I explained, ‘and I like to buy my tree from there.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Jude said, stepping aside as I climbed back down the ladder and shifted it along a bit.

‘I had planned to rent a potted tree from the place that supplies the cut ones for the auction from this year on,’ I went on, ‘but time and events ran away with me and so I’ve got it in the diary to organize for next year now.’

‘You can rent a Christmas tree?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘A real one?’

‘Yes,’ I explained, ‘you get the same tree for a few years running, and for the rest of the year, it’s looked after by the rental company, which, for me and a lot of other locals around here, will be Wynter’s Trees on the Norfolk coast near Wynmouth.’

Jude looked amazed that such a place existed.

‘Some people even name their trees,’ I told him, and he looked even more astounded.

‘And you will, of course.’

‘Of course,’ I confirmed.

‘What are you going to call it?’ he asked, quirking a brow, and I knew he was taking the mickey.

I stopped and put my hands on my hips.

‘How can I answer that?’ I tutted, playing along. ‘I haven’t been introduced to it yet. I can’t pick out the name until I’ve actually seen the tree, can I?’

Jude put his hands up in surrender and attempted to laugh.

‘I apologize,’ he said. ‘My mistake.’

He closed his eyes for a second and then grabbed hold of the ladder to steady himself.

‘I think you’d better sit down for a bit,’ I told him as I steered him towards a chair. ‘You’ve spent ages holding that ladder and looking up. Take a minute to regain your equilibrium, and I’ll make us another drink. Then you can just watch me for a bit, rather than participate.’

‘All this festive exposure is tantamount to abuse to someone like me,’ he pouted, but there was humour in his tone.

‘It’s not abuse!’ I objected.

‘Immersion therapy, then,’ he amended.

‘Yes,’ I said, smiling, ‘that’s more like it. If I completely co-coon you in my kind of Christmas, you’ll be so over-exposed by the New Year that you won’t object to it anymore and you’ll be able to go back to enjoying it again.’

‘I don’t expect I’ll be here by the New Year,’ he said rather glumly. ‘I’ll be out of your hair long before then.’

‘Perhaps you will,’ I said, wondering how I was going to cope with our second parting in as many months, ‘but for now, let’s just take things one day at a time, shall we?’

By lunchtime the next day, the house was suitably bedecked and there was barely an inch of space anywhere that wasn’t covered in twinkling fairy lights, something glittery in its own right or a festive fairy that was part of my private collection. It might all have happened slightly later than the first of December, but I was thrilled with the results and surprisingly Jude hadn’t objected to any of it.

Whether he genuinely didn’t mind it or was keeping his real thoughts about it all to himself because of my willingness to let him move back into the house after the car crash, I couldn’t be sure, but he was certainly making the most of one of the decorative touches.

‘If I transfer some funds into your bank, Bella,’ he said, as I was getting ready to head to Wynthorpe Hall to start setting up my stall ahead of the fair the next day, ‘could you pick up some more squirty cream and marshmallows?’

The kitchen hot chocolate station was a definite hit.

‘You can’t have got through the first lot already,’ I gasped, looking around him at the depleted Kilner jars.

‘Not quite,’ he said, squirting a copious amount of cream onto the top of the largest reindeer mug I owned, ‘but it won’t take long. These flavour combos are all so delicious.’

I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.

‘And this isn’t completely Christmas-themed,’ he added hastily, thinking I’d caught him out.

‘Yes, it is,’ I batted back. ‘The station is only up in December, so that makes it a completely festive treat in my book.’

Despite what I’d said, he didn’t look inclined to abandon it.

‘I think you’re already coming back around to my way of thinking about the season, aren’t you?’ I teased, as I realized that I didn’t actually need to doubt how he was feeling about it all and that he wasn’t simply playing along because he was back under my roof. ‘First you enjoyed the Muppets,’ I reeled off, ‘then you helped with the decorating—’

‘Watched the decorating,’ he amended.

I didn’t remind him that he’d directed and curated the set-up of the mantlepiece and a couple of the bookcase shelves. The usual pieces were on display, but this year in the arrangement Jude had configured.

‘And now you’re maxing out on sugary treats before you’ve even got your mitts on a selection box,’ I pointed out.

‘And don’t forget I showed you how to make the perfect mince pies a while back,’ he then reminded me. ‘ And I opened the door on one of the advent calendars this morning, too,’ he confessed, as his eyes widened and I laughed.

‘Exactly!’ I said. I had noticed the calendar but had decided not to make a thing of it. ‘So have you fallen in love again?’

He looked at me and opened his mouth as wide as his eyes, but no sound came out.

‘With Christmas,’ I rushed to add. ‘Have you fallen back in love with Christmas?’

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ he said finally, ‘but I’m not feeling quite so inclined to badmouth it as I was before.’

‘Yes!’ I said, punching the air as I remembered his rant in The Mermaid on the night of the volunteer meeting and happily considered how far away from that attitude he’d been able to move. His slagging off the season had been one of the things that had put me off him, though, and if he was now backing down about that…

‘Spending time with you is helping me disconnect Christmas from what happened with Tabitha. And I’m genuinely rediscovering some of the joy associated with the season, again,’ he said, smiling and scooping up some of the cream from his mug with a long-handled spoon.

‘That’s music to my ears,’ I told him, endeavouring to push my previous thoughts aside for fear they’d take me down the path I was still trying not to tread.

‘As well as adding to my waistline,’ he added as he patted his tummy.

‘You look just fine to me,’ I told him, ‘but if you keep knocking back the hot chocolate at your current rate, you’ll be as round as Santa by the big day.’

‘Well,’ he said with a shrug, then took a breath because the action had been uncomfortable, ‘it wouldn’t be the season without the addition of a little holiday weight, would it?’

‘I guess not,’ I laughed as I checked the time and realized that I really needed to get on. ‘And now this fairy has to fly.’

Having loaded Tink and the majority of the crates I needed for the fair into my car, I set off into the Fens, feeling thrilled about Jude’s change in attitude insofar as it was going to be good for him to enjoy Christmas again, not because it had the potential to make my feelings for him reignite.

Jude might have come back to me again, but his second stay under my roof was a fluke, not fate, and his presence in my life still had an expiration date. Even though that made him fabulous fling fodder (had he been up to flinging), I had sense enough to remember that I had shockingly worked out that that had never been where I had wanted to head with him.

My heart thumped as I realized that if I’d managed to reach that depth of feeling with Jude, then surely I would be able to replicate it with someone less likely to leave town. Not that geographical proximity was any guarantee that someone would stick around – my father and stepfather were proof enough of that – but surely if I was actually considering embarking on a real-relationship maiden voyage with someone, then someone who lived a little closer to home and who I could see on a regular basis would be a good choice. That was assuming that there was any such thing as choice when it came to matters of the heart.

I remembered then that Jeanie had once said that my attitude towards love and relationships didn’t marry up with my whimsical work and Pollyanna ethos, but she had relented when I justified it with a reminder of my tumultuous parental past. But had she been on to something?

Was it time for me to align my love life with the rest of my idyllic life? And if I decided it was, then who was the man I was going to make the switch with? Not one who was set to leave town before the needles had fallen off my Christmas tree, that was for sure.

As I turned off the road and on to the bumpy Wynthorpe Hall drive, I decided my potential manhunt could wait. The only thing I needed to focus on this side of the New Year was enjoying my work and helping Jude fall for all things festive rather than me falling for him again.

Us both being home for Christmas was a great start, but where Jude’s continued change of attitude was concerned, bruised ribs or no bruised ribs, it was time for me to further up the ante.