Page 175 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
Danny’s gasp bounced off the walls, and he released Sylvie right before sprinting over to the tree and dropping to his knees in front of the presents. “He came! Santa came!”
“Wow!” Zara knelt next to him on the floor. “Is all this foryou? Goodness!”
Thomas slipped his arm around my waist with a smile. “It seems like you really were good this year, Danny.”
“Footsprints!” he yelled, pointing at the mess I’d made of the living room.
Sylvie jerked and almost choked on her coffee.
“Footsprints! Nanny, look!”
Mum smiled warmly, pressing her hand to her chest. “Oh, he’s made a right mess of my rug, hasn’t he?”
Danny tilted his head to the side. “Is that why you’re crying? It’s okay, Nanny. We can clean it up.”
“Yes, that’s it, love,” Mum said, wiping a tear away from her cheek. “Naughty Santa has made a big mess!”
He giggled, pressing his hands to his face. “Don’t worry. We’ll clean it up after presents, okay? Come on, there’s a stocking for you!” He pulled her over to the fireplace where the stockings were hung, and I frowned.
“There are six,” I said. “Why are there six?”
Mum smiled. “One is Sylvie’s, of course. Santa knew she was here.”
“Santa knows everything,” Danny said wisely. “That’s why I tidied my room. Uncle Tommy, this one is yours.”
“Um,” Sylvie whispered, grabbing my arm.
“Just sit,” I whispered back, pushing her down.
“Your grandmother,” Mum murmured as Danny busied himself distributing the stockings.
Zara and Beth switched when he wasn’t looking.
“Nana?” Sylvie asked.
“Yes,” Mum continued as Danny tore into his stocking. “She said she had a feeling you wouldn’t be home this morning, so she packed it in her suitcase.”
Sylvie sputtered out a laugh, and when I turned, I saw her holding a pack of condoms.
“Well,” Mum said brightly. “I suppose they’ll come in useful.”
***
“I think I’ve changed my mind,” Sylvie said, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “Maybe we don’t see where this goes. Our families together are a bit much.”
“A bit much? No, this is perfectly fine.”
“Tom, you’re sitting there in a Grinch onesie with a miniature pig in a plaid jumper.”
“As I said, this is perfectly fine.” I looked down at Beatrix Trotter who was happily sleeping on my lap. “She’s surprisingly warm.”
“I’m surprised your mother let her in the house.”
“It’s Christmas.” I shrugged. “She’s surprisingly lenient… unless the pig is trying to eat her trees, of course.”
A tragedy we’d had to prevent more than once today.
“And what’s wrong with my onesie? It’s warm and cosy.”
