Chapter 19 #2
What he didn’t see coming was Gramps, only a couple of steps away, carefully scooping a handful from the tree stump bedside him and shoving it down Beckett’s collar. His shriek scared off the robin, but had Gramps leaning on the stump as he laughed.
‘Okay. Ceasefire!’ Beckett said, jiggling about as he tried to dislodge the snow now sliding down his back.
‘Only if you admit to being soundly beaten.’ I giggled.
‘By an enfeebled old man,’ Gramps added.
‘I’m ending this now before someone other than me winds up injured,’ Beckett said primly, taking hold of the pram handle. ‘We all know there’s no question about whether I could destroy you if I tried.’
‘Whatever you say. If that makes you feel better, then, yes, of course you could,’ I said, moving over to give him a patronising pat on the shoulder.
Our journey back was equally slow, but this was much more of a pleasant amble through the inch of snowfall, rather than a torturous battle against the elements.
‘Go on. I know you’re dying to say it,’ I groaned, catching the knowing smirk on Beckett’s face as I stopped to admire a particularly beautiful-looking clearing. ‘We should have waited until the snow stopped.’
‘I guess some people need to find things out for themselves, rather than listening to someone who knows better.’
‘Well, thank you for coming with me.’ I linked my arm through his. ‘Even though you knew it was a bad idea.’
‘If Gramps had slipped, you’d have needed me.’ He glanced at Marvin, who had pushed the pram over to where a fungus the size of a dinner plate protruded from a tree trunk.
‘But doesn’t this seem even more beautiful, having experienced the brunt of the blizzard?’
‘Are you turning your stubborn insistence on dragging an old man and a baby out in a snowstorm into a valuable life lesson?’
I grinned at him, feeling that disconcerting belly-swoop again when he gave a resigned eyeroll and smiled back.
Moments like this, it was as though the first rays of sun were breaking through. And yes, they shone all the brighter in contrast to the dark clouds of the past few months.
* * *
Beckett had one more treat for me before they left.
After we’d warmed up with the meal-train lasagne, he called me into the living room and guided me through building a fire.
What meant the most to me was how he didn’t light it while I was preparing lunch, like some caveman showing off his skills.
He didn’t even show me how to do it. He sat back and patiently taught me how to do it myself, letting me make mistakes and get things not quite right.
‘Oh my gosh, I love you,’ I blurted the second I was sure enough of the larger chunks of wood had taken.
I immediately froze, gripping the poker as if I were considering bludgeoning someone with it. The someone being me.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I mean,’ I said, sliding my eyes to see where Beckett also sat unnaturally still, staring hard at the fire, ‘obviously by I love you, I don’t mean that I, well, I’m not saying that I don’t love you as a friend.
If that’s… Is it okay to say that? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who tells his mates he loves them.
But me and my friends, we would do it all the time.
You know, “love you!” if we made each other a cup of tea, or were off out somewhere, or one of us made a snappy comment.
I know we’ve not known each other that long, but you got me through childbirth.
I will love you forever for that. Oh, no.
I really need to stop talking now. Please stop me before I keep making it worse.
I should have made a joke and moved on. Now this brilliant day will forever be the time I made everything awkward… ’
‘I love you, too,’ Beckett said firmly, his voice impossibly deep, before leaning over and kissing the top of my head in an unmistakably friend-like manner. ‘But I do need to get home. I have to tidy up before the care agency Bill recommended come over tomorrow.’
He stood up, sending a snowflake decoration spinning as he stretched his arms above his head. ‘Enjoy your fire.’
‘Oh, I will. And the tree, the decorations, the freaky-looking elf. When can I come over and make it up to you?’
‘If you were able to spend some time with Gramps on Tuesday, that would be great. But he wants to go back to the church on Sunday. If you fancy coming too, let me know.’
‘Okay. I’ll check my diary.’ I pretended to open and scan through an imaginary book.
‘I’m free, would you believe it? If the roads are clear, then me and Bob will come.
He enjoyed the carols last time, and hopefully I’ll have a couple of costumes ready for people to try on, check my rusty dressmaking skills are up to the Christmas Twins’ standards. ’
Beckett woke Gramps up, took a protracted ten minutes encouraging him into his coat, boots, hat and gloves, and then left, calling out, ‘Love you!’ as the front door swung shut.
‘Look at all this,’ I said, turning on the star lights draped across the window frames and picking up Bob to show him. ‘Of all the taxi drivers to come and pick me up on your birthday, I think we got a Christmas angel.’