Page 32 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

Moira tipped her head and sent Sutton a low, slow smile. ‘And I like you. You and I, Sutton, we’re going to be great friends.’

As Rosie and Moira walked to the car, with Moira belting out a rap version ofAll I Want for Christmas Is You, Sutton knew she had absolutely no choice in the matter. And she was, strangely, very okay with that.

* * *

The tree in Gus’s hallway wasn't just a tree; it was a full-blown explosion of Christmas…well, deliciousness. It was the Ronaldinho, or maybe the Elton John, of Christmas trees, and more than a foot taller than him. Its branches, pointing in every direction, screamed ‘Look at me, I’m fabulous!’, and dipped under the weight of the ornaments.

Gus quietly shut the front door and tipped his head back to look at the angel at the top of the tree. It was Kate’s angel, the one her dad gave her when she was eight, one of his wife’s most treasured possessions. Someone had taken the time to weave twinkling fairy lights between the branches, giving off a warm, cosy glow in the dark hallway.

He walked up to the tree and touched a glass bauble with the tip of his finger, causing it to sway. He’d been with Kate when she bought this set from a glassmaker in Venice. There were many he didn’t recognise and wondered if every ornament Kate owned – and she’d owned a lot – was on the tree. It looked like it. Then again, it was a big tree.

Gus placed his phone and wallet in the bowl on the hall table, cocking his head at the yelling coming from the conservatory. Years of experience told him it was a yell of excitement, so he sat down on the chair in the hall and unlaced his boots. Kicking them off, he rested the back of his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. It had been a long, long day at the shop, with loads of visitors all day. He’d smiled and smiled and offered shortbread and put through credit card payments. He’d been so busy he hadn’t even had time to go into the storeroom and bang his head against the wall in frustration, something he’d done more than once before.

The melody of ‘Hark the Herald Angels’ drifted over to him and he heard Eli’s distinctive tenor. All he wanted was to come home to a quiet house, a stiff whiskey and a long bath. But he mostly craved a quiet house free of anything Christmassy. Unfortunately, there was a sodding big Christmas tree in his hallway.

‘Joyful all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies—’

Was that Moira’s soprano? And yeah, she sounded a little…buzzed? Champagne soaked? Brilliant. And where was his bloody nanny?

Gus walked into the dark kitchen and stood in the shadows, looking into the brightly lit conservatory. The furniture had been pushed back against the walls and the huge carpet cleared of toys. His mother-in-law, a glass of champagne in her hand, was curled up in the corner of the couch, her eyes on the hotly contested game happening on the carpet in front of her.

Everyone, Moira included, wore a brightly coloured elf hat and Gus immediately noticed Rosie’s kept falling into her eyes. His eyes drifted over the carpet. Someone, Sutton, probably, had cut out the faces of snowmen and glued them to paper cups and bowls, which were lined up in a zig-zag pattern.

A pile of rolled-up socks, his socks, sat on the carpet and his son picked up a sock ball and narrowed his eyes. He rolled it, missing three ‘pins’ and hitting one. He spun around, delighted at his accomplishment.

Eli high-fived him. ‘Ten points for Felix,’ Moira grandly declared.

‘It’s my turn,’ Rosie announced. She pushed back her elf hat, and tossed his socks, green this time, from hand to hand. She dropped to one knee and sent the sock ball rolling. It bounced off the back wall and knocked down two pins on the way back. She howled with laughter and Pig stood up and bolted across the room and grabbed the sock ball, shaking it furiously.

Eli and Will implored him to drop it, Felix and Rosie laughed harder, and Moira awarded Pig twenty points.

When last did he see his kids looking so happy, his mother-in-law so relaxed? He couldn’t remember. Behind them, rain hit the windows but here, inside his house, his kids were laughing and the people he cared for most were having a good time. Rosie picked up her cup and took a deep sip, and Felix said something to her, causing chocolate milk to erupt from her nose. Will offered her his t-shirt to wipe the chocolate off her face before taking his turn to roll his grubby ball of white socks.

They were having pure, uncomplicated fun. And it wouldn’t have happened if Sutton hadn’t asked whether they could put up a tree. His kids, the people he lived for, and would die for, were happy, and tears burned Gus’s eyes. He was grateful they were having such a good time, but also embarrassed that he’d chosen work over this, and that he hadn’t provided the source of their joy.

‘They’re playing Snowman Slam.’

Gus turned and saw Sutton standing in the doorway to the kitchen, strands of her hair falling out of her loose ponytail. She wore skinny jeans and a cream-coloured jersey with a dark stain – chocolate? – on her right breast. In the shadows, his eyes rammed into hers. ‘What are the rules?’ he softly asked.

‘It depends on who you ask,’ Sutton replied. ‘It changes as it goes along.’

‘Was it your idea?’ he asked.

Sutton lifted one shoulder which was as good as a ‘yes’. ‘Moira’s a little…toasty,’ she quietly told him, laughter in her voice.

‘Did she apologize to you?’ Gus asked.

‘She did, in the most delightful way possible,’ Sutton told him, still speaking softly. She glanced over to Moira, who was arguing with Eli about an off-side rule. ‘I really like her, Gus.’

He did too. He’d lucked out with his mum-in-law. The music changed to a hard beat, and Will spun Rosie around in a twirl. Eli pulled Moira out of her seat while Felix bopped around, his arms flailing. That kid had no rhythm. Like,zero.

Gus felt Sutton’s eyes on his face and turned back to look at her. ‘Do you want to dance, Gus?’

He shook his head. He had something else on his mind. Something he needed to do, right now.

* * *

Sutton watched as Gus padded over to her and gripped her wrist, gently tugging her into the hall. She looked up and Gus noticed his eyes were a lot darker than before, a blue-black she’d never seen before. He half smiled and quietly led her up the stairs. Sutton didn’t pull her hand out of his, nor did she protest.

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