Page 48 of Christmas Ever After
15
‘It’s time to celebrate breaking up from school, work, and taking a step back from our regularly scheduled routine of yelling at daytime telly.’ Trisha raises a glass to Sofia, Erin and Biddy in turn.
‘All daytime TV competitions are a scam,’ Biddy grumbles. ‘Sometimes they go from segments on how to avoid scammers to encouraging people to enter their scam competitions! What a joke. And some of the “advice” they give. A dead shrew would be a better problem solver!’
‘It’s the night of our annual three-legged gingerbread house competition.’ Trisha ignores her obviously familiar rant and holds her mug out in a toast to me. ‘And in honour of our honorary Dardenne, Franca, instead of a three-legged gingerbread house competition, this year we’ve decided to have a – break, ho ho ho – from tradition and make it a three-armed competition, so if you’ll all get into your pairs – Raff and Franca, Erin and Quentin, and Sofia and I are going to team up, and Biddy will act as the judge of all things gingerbread…’
‘I fully support anything where I get to sit here with my lovely drink and eat gingerbread without having to do any work.’ Sheraises her martini glass to me as well. ‘Usually these buggers make me join in their three-legged gingerbread house nonsense, but you can take my place this year. I’m far too old for such shenanigans.’
‘I thought you were only fifty-three, Grandma,’ Sofia says and gets a glare for her use of the G word.
It’s 20 December, Raff and I have spent all day preparing for the Christmas market which starts tomorrow, but for tonight, he’s invited me to join in the annual event the family does every year – the three-legged gingerbread house competition. A bit like a three-legged race, but instead of racing to a finishing point with one of your legs tied to your partner’s, you’re attempting to build the best gingerbread house together. As I’m at a disadvantage on the arm front, Trisha has decided to make it fair this year by forcing all three couples to tie their arms together instead of their legs.
‘I’ve never made a gingerbread house before.’
On reflection, I should have known that admission would be greeted by looks of complete shock.
Sofia’s mouth falls open. ‘Howhave you never made a gingerbread house before?’
I glance around at six expectant faces. ‘I’ve never had anyone to make one with. It’s pointless when you’re on your own, isn’t it?’
‘You’ve gotsomuch catching up to do on Christmas!’ Sofia squeals.
It’s a nice thought. This family really knows how todoChristmas. And as I’m coming to realise, I don’t. I’m terrible at Christmas. I never used to be, I used to go all-out to make up for the rubbish family Christmases when I was young, but it’s seemed so pointless in recent years. When it’s just me, it’s just another day that is better spent working.
‘Well, you’re not on your own this year.’ Trisha appears in front of us with a ribbon. ‘Arms!’
Raff’s wearing a hoodie over a festive green T-shirt, which he stops to shrug off and throw into the living room, leaving my arm pressed against his warm forearm and sending goosebumps racing across my skin. I gingerly hold my right arm against Raff’s and let her weave a ribbon in and out of our forearms, holding our limbs together. She’s extra gentle and stops before she reaches the splint, giving us more leeway than she’s given Erin and Quentin, but it’s still the closest my broken hand has been to another person, and I didn’t realise how much I’d have to trust Raff not to make any sharp movements or yank my arm hard enough to hurt.
‘I’ll be careful,’ Raff whispers as Biddy laces up Trisha and Sofia and delights in making the ribbon so tight that it’s guaranteed to cut off their circulation. ‘I promise your bad arm is safe with my arm.’
It’s another one of those moments that requires an audible ‘awwwww’ noise. I’m once again touched by his thoughtfulness and empathy. For someone who I thought was so heartless, Raff has surprised me in every way, and I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more to have my broken hand tied to. Which is quite ironic considering how this injury came about in the first place.
Not that he hasn’t done plenty to make up for it. My nutcrackers are selling well. Raff has made all of the nutcracker orders and only packing them is left to be done. The ones on the shelves are dwindling, and the snowmen Raff’s made are also dwindling, and I can’t wait to be able to use my lathe again because there are so many different things that can be made, from female nutcrackers to Disney-inspired ones and to things that are different altogether. Raff’s snowmen flying off the shelves has shown me it’s time for The Nutcracker Shop to expand its inventory slightly.
The giant nutcracker giveaway has been wildly popular too. My mentions on social media have exploded with photos of people sending their selfies with the umbrella-holding nutcracker, and in terms of matches, we’ve made another one this week with Mitch’s son Cedric and Mandy from All Wrapped Up, who we matched over an icy penguin snow globe, and they’ve arranged to do an escape room date together this weekend.
That’s three out of five matches on Raff’s side, and a hundred or so customers who care about nutcrackers and have interacted with me on social media. I don’t know if we’ve got time to match any more couples before the council meeting at the Christmas market on Sunday afternoon, but I don’t think it’s going to be important now. This was about me and Raff and the tension between us causing an atmosphere for the other shopkeepers. That’s no longer an issue. I’ll withdraw my last complaint about him and he’ll withdraw his last complaint about me, and they’ll forget all about this silly idea and everything will go back to normal. Ithasto.
‘Rules are simple,’ Trisha announces. ‘You’ve got one hour. Whoever’s made the best gingerbread house when the timer runs out is the winner.’
‘What do we win?’ Sofia asks.
‘Honour. Respect. And a box of Maltesers.’
I laugh out loud. I love this family. ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that Maltesers always taste better from a box than from a bag.’
Erin giggles. ‘Something we can all agree on. With that attitude, you’re one of us alright.’
It shouldn’t make me feel as warm and fuzzy as it does.
Sofia instructs the smart speaker to start playing Christmas music and the sound of ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ fills the house. The three teams are stationed at different spots aroundthe kitchen. Each team has four pre-made gingerbread house walls and two roof panels ready to assemble, a cake board for mounting, and the island in the middle of the kitchen is a free-for-all decorating station, piled high with piping bags and tubs of royal icing, along with bags of sweets, gumdrops, chocolate buttons, marshmallows, food colouring, writing icing, wafer decorations, and every type of sprinkle you can imagine.
‘Have you readThe Hunger Games?’ Raff whispers into my ear, and I nod. ‘It’s like the beginning of that where they can all run to the centre point and grab any weapons they can get, except no one gets horribly murdered in this version.’ He glances behind us. ‘Unless anyone takes that chocolate reindeer. Then all bets are off because that’s ours. We need to strategise – royal icing and piping bags first, and that reindeer. If you go for that and I go for the icing, we can reach both in one move.’
‘On your marks! Get ready! Go!’ Biddy starts the stopwatch in her hand and has a celebratory sip of her martini.
Carnage is the best way to describe it. Erin lets out a battle cry and she and Quentin attack the kitchen island, clawing supplies into their arms. Raff’s more restrained, despite his desperation for the chocolate reindeer. ‘We can worry about decorations later,anythingcan be a decoration, let’s focus on structure first and let them get caught up in gum-drop warfare.’
