Page 39 of Christmas Chaos
His mother looked miserable.
Zoe dashed forward. ‘You can’t promise that,’ she whispered in Brad’s ear. ‘She can’t afford it.’
‘Just take her details, babe. Father Bradmas has got this.’
It went downhill from there.
Within half an hour of him posting a photo of himself dressed as Santa, queues formed out of the castle for the chance to sit on his knee. And when word got out that he would provide whatever you asked for, the demands escalated.
‘Are you sure you want a Tesla?’ Brad asked a little girl who really should have been asking for two front teeth.
‘Yeth,’ she replied. ‘A Tethla. And it hath to be…’ she broke off to look at her father.
‘Deep blue metallic,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Theep boo methallic,’ she repeated.
Ninety minutes in,Rory shut the main doors.
Ninety-one minutes in, fights broke out and people started smashing windows. Shortly after, the riot police arrived, along with two ambulances and the local press.
Barbara, toting a loaded shotgun, escorted Zoe out the back door, took her back to the cabin, then returned to the castle.
Zoe got into bed, cuddling Basil.
Merry Fucking Christmas.
December 21st
36 weeks + 6
It was official. Zoe was done with being pregnant and done with Christmas. She’d spent so long making the holiday magical for other people there was no magic left for her. She was heavy and depressed, and nothing could lift her mood. Rory was busy working outside, but she didn’t even have the energy to ask about his days. She just stayed at the cabin with Bandit and Basil, hiding from everyone and counting the days till her parents arrived.
That morning she’d woken with a dodgy stomach and by the time Rory arrived back, late afternoon, she was ready for bed.
‘Get dressed,’ he said. ‘We’re going into town.’
‘Don’t want to,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m fed up and my tummy’s upset. That steak you fed me last night didn’t agree with me.’
He frowned. ‘I ate most of it and I’m okay. You don’t think it’s anything to do with the baby?’
She shrugged. ‘Who knows? Pregnancy sucks and I could have another six weeks of it.’
‘Well, there’s a special carol service in Kinloch this evening and I really want to go.’
‘Carols? You?’
‘I think your love of Christmas has rubbed off on me.’
‘I’m not in love anymore. It’s all a load of consumerist bollocks. You were right. It’s just another made-up holiday to be endured.’
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Zoe, I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to take the strain off you. But I do want you to remember why you love Christmas.’
‘And a carol concert will do that?’
‘You never know. There’s going to be candles. And mince pies.’
She rolled her eyes.
