Page 66 of Christmas Ever After
He cuts me off with a kiss that takes me by surprise in the best way possible, and my hand grips onto his arm even though it’s nothing more than a peck. We pull back when a cheer goes up from the crowd of our fellow shopkeepers, and I’m blushing too hard to keep kissing him, even though I want to.
And on the plus side, Raff smells of his usual peppermint aftershave and there’s not a hint of Monster Munch anywhere.
He steps round to my left side and holds his arm out to me. ‘Shall we?’
When I slip my arm through his, he signals to Mitch, and I hear the beep of the camera recording as we walk towards the Christmas Ever After arch.
The two stools that are set up underneath look alotmore steady than the ones we stood on so many weeks ago, but even so, I’m not ready for that yet. ‘Forget those things. There’s a do-over and there’s jinxing it.’
‘Really? Because Jorge has offered to come by and knock me off just for the full do-over effect. If I break anything, can you learn to make snow globes for the next couple of months?’
‘Don’t make me smack you with my one hand, because I will.’ I hold my palm out threateningly. ‘We don’t need that faithful a re-enactment.’
He laughs, getting all giggly as my protective side comes out. I make him keep hold of my hand for support as he steps up onto a stool to hang the mistletoe and steps back down without incident, and then he moves them aside so we’re standing underneath the mistletoe in the archway. He smiles, his eyes asking silent permission to kiss me, and I give him an almost imperceptible nod, and he lowers his lips to mine.
Last time I was hyperaware of the camera, but this time, Raff has taken over every last one of my senses. His aftershave, the touch of his mouth, and the absolute silence that has fallen over the street. Everything has gone so quiet that it’s like we’re covered by a blanket of snow, and I’m not sure if it’s actually gone that quiet or if kissing Raff has simply blocked out everything else. The street under me has melted away and the only thing I can feel is his hands, one on my lower back, his fingertips smouldering through my jumper, one at the back of my neck, my hair gathered in his hand as his thumb brushes my skin, making time drift away.
At least one of us has retained our awareness of the camera because he pulls back much faster than I wanted him to, but thankfully, just before we were on the cusp of slipping into public indecency.
He’s panting for breath, his chest heaving where my hand is resting over his heart and he drops his forehead to lean against mine, a sappy smile playing on his kiss-reddened lips.
‘Happy December the first, Fran,’ he murmurs.
‘Happy Christmas Eve, Raff,’ I murmur in reply, making him laugh.
‘And cut!’ Everyone cheers at Mitch’s shout, probably because no one’s ended up in A&E this time.
‘He knows that absolutely no one is going to want to watch a video that ends happily, right?’ I say to Raff.
‘It’s Christmas, anything is possible.’
Somehow, he makes me believe that, and he makes me feel like I’m livingina snow globe – happy, perfect, and with an idealistic little village to call my own where you’re never sure that something won’t come out of nowhere, shake your life up, and cause a snowstorm.
20
‘It’s Christmaaaaaaaaas!’ Sofia is too young to know who Noddy Holder is, never mind be doing impressions of him, but she flings the door open in her fleecy Christmas pyjamas the next morning with a perfect rendition of the opening line of the Slade song.
‘Santa’s been!’ She dashes off, singing ‘Deck the Halls’ and a trail of fa-la-la-la-la-ing follows her into the house.
It’s 10a.m., and I slept on Raff’s couch last night, although between us, and Erin and Quentin, we spent a good chunk of the night creating sparkly hoofprints on the lawn, big fake-snow footprints going from the hearth to the tree, and a piece of red fabric left behind where Santa snagged his suit on the branches. I grated the end off two carrots to make them look chewed by reindeer, and Raff ate half the mince pies Sofia had left out for Santa, and it reminded me of everything I used to love about Christmas, and how you’re never too old for a touch of magic. Afterwards, Erin and Quentin crept back in here, and Raff and I went back to his place; he made us a hot chocolate and we snuggled down on the couch, and the next thing I knew, it was morning and his arms were still around me. He’d managed topull a blanket over us in the night, and Biddy was right about his couch being very comfortable indeed.
Everyone greets us both with a hug and a ‘Merry Christmas’, except Biddy who growls something about no one having got her a martini yet, and Raff obliges as I lean down to hug her. She squeezes my hand and says, ‘Well done, Franca. You’ve managed to turn our non-believer into a loved-up puddle. I saw the new video, you know. I’ve never seen him so happy.’
‘Never seen who so happy?’ Raff returns with her glass, knowing full well who she’s talking about.
‘You, of course. Have you seen the soppy smile on your face? If I didn’t know you were up all night doing’ – she looks around to make sure Sofia’s not in earshot – ‘Santa stuff, I’d think you were up all night doing something a lot naughtier!’
I blush even though we were both too knackered to do anything more risqué than fall asleep on the sofa last night.
‘Mum says we can all have one present now!’ Sofia races into the living room, runs around the sofa, and races back out again.
Erin’s sitting at the table with her feet up, and Trisha and Quentin were in the kitchen preparing to cook the dinner, but Sofia drags them in and chooses a present for everyone from under the tree. She throws something big and squashy onto my lap, wrapped in red pudding-print paper, and hurls a similar looking one at Raff, and then chooses one for herself, which was impossible to disguise. It’s the finished version of the half-completed nutcracker that Raff got from me on the day I showed him my workshop. Between us, we wrapped it up last night. Unfortunately it’s pretty impossible to disguise a five-foot nutcracker and Sofia’s clearly known what it is since the moment she clapped eyes on it standing beside the Christmas tree this morning.
‘Oh my God, I love him!’ she squeals as she tears the paper off and pushes herself onto tiptoes so she can plant a kiss onthe nutcracker’s wooden red cheek. ‘I’m going to marry him one day!’
‘Don’t give your heart away just yet, Sofe,’ Biddy tells her.
‘Maybe one day you’ll find a nutcracker prince in real life,’ I add. My eyes are on Raff and his little smile makes my heart soar.
