Page 67 of Christmas Ever After
‘Open yours!’ Sofia spins around, holding the stationary nutcracker’s arm like she’s waltzing with it.
I pin my present down with an elbow and tear through the paper to reveal a huge, red and green tartan snuggle hoodie that’s oversized, soft and cosy, and when Raff tears his present open, he finds the same thing but in blue and brown.
‘His and hers so you can snuggle together!’ Sofia shouts.
I slip it on immediately. It’s the softest, snuggliest thing I’ve ever worn, like wearing a duvet, and I’m beyond touched that they’ve all gone to such an effort to include me.
After everyone’s opened one present each, Trisha and Quentin return to the kitchen, and although I ask repeatedly if I can do anything to help, Trisha stops me. ‘Next year, when you’ve got two hands. Until then, put your feet up and let us take care of you.’
It makes me feel warm and cherished as Raff flops down beside me and leans over until his head is resting against mine. I stroke the sleeve of his snuggle hoodie and he tangles our fingers together and squeezes my hand.
‘You wouldn’t want to meet my mum sometime soon, would you?’ It’s been on my mind since I spoke to her, but I didn’t know I was actually going to suggest it to Raff.
‘I would love to. Even if she’s going to castrate me on sight.’
I laugh, but I get the feeling Mum has mellowed in her older age. ‘I was thinking of going to visit her.’
‘This week? We’re both off work and I’d be more than happy to drive up there.’
‘She lives in Scotland, Raff. That’s a long drive.’
‘Or it’s a few uninterrupted hours I get to spend with you in the car, and I wouldloveto meet your family.’
‘Awwww.’ I can’t stop myself leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek and snuggle in closer, wondering how I got so lucky.
The Christmas dinner is a full-house affair, and once again, Trisha has thought ofeverything, all the subtle things that make it easy for me to eat one-handed, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and after we’re all stuffed and Sofia’s made everyone pull at least one cracker and we’ve all got paper party hats on, everyone migrates back to the living room for presents.
I didn’t expect to be involved in this part at all, but sure enough, there are presents under the Dardenne tree for me, all marked as ‘from Santa’ – the sweetest, most thoughtful things. Hand warmers in case my fingers feel the cold when the splint comes off. A jar opener in case I struggle to open jars while my fingers are still healing. A fleece blanket with nutcrackers all over it. Fluffy socks. Chocolate. Not a Toblerone in sight, thankfully.
‘I’ve got one for Fran.’ Raff, who’s been sitting next to me with presents piled all around us, slides off the sofa onto his knees and leans over until he can grab a box from underneath the tree.
When he places the heavy box carefully onto my lap, I’m certain it’s going to be another snow globe, but as I go to undo the ribbon, he covers my hand with his. ‘It’s not the same, but maybe that’s a good metaphor because a lot of things aren’t quite the same this year. I hope it’s okay.’
I’m confused by what he means until I lift the lid off the box, and nestled in a bed of white tissue paper is… my favourite Christmas mug. The one I broke weeks ago. The one I’ve missed a truly ridiculous amount this month.
I burst instantly into tears. I never intended to kiss him in front of his family but it’s physically impossible to stop myself reaching out, letting my hand slide along his jaw and pulling his lips to mine.
It’s only a brief peck, and the sound of everyone cheering makes me let him go much quicker than I want to.
‘How did you do that?’ I whisper without pulling back.
‘I work with ceramics every day. I studied the photos, got some advice on shaping from Thelma in A Very Muggy Christmas, and made alotof practice pieces that weren’t quite right. And some that were downright embarrassing.’
It seems like forever ago, that day in my shop when I told him about breaking my favourite Christmas mug and he sent the photos to himself. I didn’t even know him then and he must’ve already been planning on doing this.
‘He gets it from his grandfather,’ Biddy says. ‘My Claude’s spirit lives on through him.’
It makes me feel uneasy for a moment, but she quickly adds, ‘Even if he’s not going to make those ridiculous snow globes any more.’
So they know. Biddy’s descriptive word suggests she really does know the truth behind them, but more importantly, he’s told his family about the change in direction and they’re obviously supporting him in it.
‘We should thank you for that,’ Biddy continues. ‘Without your influence, I don’t know how long he’d have carried on trying to be someone he’s not. The only thing Claude wanted was for Raff to bring his own touch to the shop. The magic of Dardenne Snow Globes has only ever been about the love that goes in to making them.’
Raff’s sitting on the floor in front of my legs and I hear his breath catch. I can’t help leaning forward and hugging him from behind, made somewhat less intimate by the fact that both of ushave got on the equivalent of wearable duvets, and the rest of the day passes in a haze of hugs, gifts, bad cracker jokes, and way too much chocolate.
Exactly as I’ve always dreamed Christmas Day would be.
It’s later in the evening and darkness has fallen when I slip outside for a moment of alone time and to send a quick message to my dad, and to ask Mum if we really could come up to visit this week.
