Page 78 of We Three Kings

‘Give the man a beer, I reckon,’ Leo jokes.

‘Well, that’s just irresponsible. Man’s working, got a sleigh to drive,’ Gabby tells him. They get up, surveying the table. ‘Parsnips are done, cauliflower chopped, swede hacked into chunks. Our work here is done.’ They give each other high-fives as Claire comes over to her brother. She kisses the top of Leo’s head. ‘Welcome home, chops. Maggie, a pleasure.’

‘Laters, Claire Bear, and you too, Gobby.’

Gabby snarls at him, lovingly before winking at me and dragging her sister away. ‘I’m sorry about them…’ Leo tells me, stretching his arms over his head, his T-shirt riding up to reveal a slice of his stomach. There is still a minor thrill there to see it but I am really too tired to even consider it in this very crowded house.

‘I don’t mind them at all.’

He seems to heave a sigh of relief to hear me say that. ‘So, I’m going with five roasties each,’ Leo tells me, counting his potatoes carefully.

I smile to see him take his job so seriously. ‘Sounds perfect. If I see anyone with more than five then I will tell them off.’

He laughs in response, looking over at me.

‘Sorry to be a party pooper. Claire’s right though, I ampretty drained. Even though I slept most of the car trip up. God, you must be wiped out too.’

He cocks his head from side to side, taking peelings and putting them in a large bin, moving around the kitchen to put knives and chopping boards in the sink. Is this sexy? It is. He moves a large dishcloth over a counter and it’s possibly more of a turn-on than the slice of flesh I saw before. ‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some good kip before the madness tomorrow. Come on, let me show you the study.’

He leads me into the hallway and through to a small room off from the living room. In Jasper’s house, the library had ladders to the shelves, a mahogany bureau and some ancient manuscript of a book in a glass box for display. In this house, it’s shelves full of Lee Child, family photos and pen pots, an IKEA desk has been pushed back, a computer placed in the corner to make way for a pile of towels and bed linen, and some Christmas cross-stitched throw cushions. I hate to say it but this set up certainly feels more like what I’m used to in life. The airbeds are at angles on the floor so that one of us will have to sleep with our feet under a desk, our bags tucked into a corner.

‘Seriously, I know you had luxury at Jasper’s so if this is not quite what you were expecting, I can see if Gabby has room for us? Or call a mate?’

I put a reassuring hand to Leo’s arm. ‘It’s totally fine. Cosy.’

‘That’s one word for it.’ He grabs at a sheet, flicking it open and encouraging me to take one end to help him make the beds.

‘So what do your mum and dad do?’ I ask him.

‘Mum’s always been a housewife and Dad works at a paper mill locally. First job he got out of school and he’s been there ever since.’ He pulls the fitted sheet elastic over the corners of the bed, pausing. ‘I never knew that about your mum and dad, by the way.’

‘Well, I never said anything. They’re good people who’ve been through a lot, resilient to their core. If I made it sound likeit was lonely, it wasn’t. They have lots of mates. I think that’s why I value my friendships a lot more in life.’

Leo nods, possibly understanding why I hold him, Jasper and Frank in such high esteem.

‘I’m sorry about my uncle Rich,’ he continues.

‘The singing one in the living room?’

‘Yeah, he’ll be good value though after pudding when he’s had a few jars. He’ll sing, dance, he’ll have a good old go on the charades.’

We move on to duvet covers and pillowcases. Given we’ve worked together for so long, we do seem to understand how the other works quite instinctively, but there is some domesticity involved here that seems quite sweet. He throws me a pillow and I catch it.

‘And the nickname “chops”?’ I enquire.

‘I was a proper chunky toddler. It refers to the size of my thighs,’ he says, cringing. ‘I can’t believe it stuck. You’ll hear my older nephews call me that too.’

‘You never mentioned there were so many of them,’ I say. I won’t lie, having all these children about does feel like how Christmas should be and you can tell Sandy is ecstatic they are all around. They range in age from four to fourteen and Leo seems to have relationships with all of them, knowing if they’ve recently got a reading badge, scored a goal or chosen their GCSEs. I can’t help but be impressed.

‘Well, I didn’t tell you about the bikini either,’ he laughs. I better not let slip that I took a picture of the photo with my phone and sent it to Frank. He’s told me he’s going to put that photo on their fridge.

Beds made, I open up my bag to retrieve pyjamas and a toothbrush and Leo leads me to the downstairs bathroom to clean up. What I love most about this house is how there are photos everywhere. In a lighthouse frame on a shelf by the window is a family photo of old where they seem to be on holiday.It shows Leo with what looks like a perm. I need to make a mental note to come back and take a photo of this one too. As I wash my face, I look into the mirror and feel an amazing sense of being at home. The flush of feeling ill has been taken away by the painkillers and drugs I’ve taken but also a warmth that the next few days will be fine. Leo is here, all will be fine.

When I return to the room, however, I find Leo has made the beds but also stands there in just his pants. He looks over at me and my very sensible tartan pyjamas. I try not to let my smile overtake my face. I always knew he had a body under his clothes but there’s something about seeing his legs out, the shape of his bum through his underwear, the curve of his shoulders.

‘I can’t sleep in pyjamas, I get too warm,’ he says, trying to ensure that he’s not stripped for any other purpose than his own comfort.

‘It’s minus three outside,’ I inform him.

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