A Scottish Christmas

Chapter 17

Rose still felt out of sorts the following morning. She stayed in her room until the desperation for coffee drove her downstairs. She was glad to get away from the dress; draped on the chair in front of her dressing table it appeared to be judging her for her behaviour the night before.

It was Christmas Eve tomorrow and she was going to be leaving. Instead of making the most of her remaining time here, she’d gone and behaved ridiculously. She’d spent the hours until the last of the guests left doing her absolute best to avoid Alastair at all cost. All she’d actually succeeded in doing was spoiling her own enjoyment of the evening and making everything awkward and horrible for herself. Hopefully not for others . . . She winced as she remembered Fiona’s take on things.

Alastair had only danced once with Sarah and then returned to his table, where Rose, hidden behind a balloon display, watched him glance around the room — was he looking for her? — before he put on his dinner jacket. He’d stayed there for a while and then moved around the other tables for the rest of the night, the consummate businessman. Rose had seen Sarah approach him a couple of times, but they hadn’t talked for long and Alastair remained off the dance floor for the rest of the evening.

Rose danced a few times with Fiona as Paul steadfastly refused to set foot on the dance floor, but she always kept a watchful eye to make sure Alastair wasn’t coming over. Fiona and Paul were fun and good company, but it wasn’t the same as when she’d danced with Alastair. She caught Alastair looking at her several times as the evening went on, but pretended not to notice.

“Are you really going to ignore my brother all night?” Fiona had asked, when Rose spotted Alastair coming over to them and promptly declared she needed the loo.

“I’m not ignoring him!” Rose insisted, unconvincingly. Fiona rolled her eyes as Rose swiftly walked in the opposite direction to Alastair.

Now in the cold light of day, Rose couldn’t believe she’d behaved so childishly. So, she had a bit of a crush on her boss . . . She was an adult and she should be able to control herself. It’s not like she actually wanted anything to happen between them anyway. The last thing she needed while she was trying to get her life back on track was a man complicating things. And he’d made it completely clear that he didn’t date. Though it appeared Sarah hadn’t received that memo. What possible difference did it make to Rose who he danced with? It must have been the alcohol she told herself firmly. Except she’d stuck to sparkling water all night because she’d been working.

The kitchen was empty. Rose made herself a strong coffee and stuck some toast on. She guessed everyone had taken the dogs and Houdini out for a walk. It was still a few hours before they were due to go for the treat she’d booked — she, Alastair and Isla were taking the twins to see Father Christmas at a local farm shop. The shop was kitted out with a kids indoor play area so sounded perfect for a pair of six-year-olds. Paul was going to take Fiona out for a spa afternoon which was part of her Christmas present from him.

Rose was not looking forward to facing Alastair but at least with the children there’d be plenty of alternative focus and they wouldn’t be alone together. Not that she should have a problem being alone with him, for goodness’ sake . . .

Almost as if she’d conjured him up, Alastair walked into the kitchen with the dogs.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning.” She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“You did a wonderful job last night,” he said, brightly. “Everyone had a brilliant time. I’d definitely use the caterers and the band again.”

“I’m so glad.” Rose, focused intently on her coffee.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Alastair continued.

“Of course.”

“Good . . . because I was worried I’d done something to upset you. You gave Fiona my jacket and then seemed to be avoiding me . . .” He put a tea bag into a mug and reboiled the kettle.

“You were just busy so giving it to Fiona seemed . . .”

“But I wasn’t . . . busy,” Alastair said quietly.

“My mistake,” said Rose as lightly as she could.

“Okay . . . that’s good, then. Good . . . As everyone else is out, I wondered if you had time to help me with something?”

“Sure . . .” What else could she say?

“There’s something we used to do when I was a kid at Christmas. It was kind of a family tradition, and I think I’d like to revive it.”

“Okay . . .”

“My dad and I used to head out together to get a yule log. The biggest log we could find that would fit into the fireplace on Christmas Eve. We’d always get it a few days early so that it dried out a bit in front of the fire before Christmas Eve.” He poured water into his mug, added milk and put the tea bag in the food compost bin as he talked.

“That’s such a cool idea!” Rose couldn’t help forgetting her awkwardness at this Christmas tradition.

“We used to light the fire after dinner on Christmas Eve and put the yule log on it. Fiona and I would sleep downstairs, or rather lie awake downstairs watching the fire and the Christmas tree and waiting to see if I could catch Father Christmas coming down the chimney. The idea was that the log would burn all night. I honestly can’t remember if it ever did.”

“What a lovely tradition. It shall have to be added to the official Christmas activity itinerary.”

“I’d agree, expect Isla wasn’t interested in coming. She suggested you might like to though . . . So, do you want to come out now and help me find the yule log?” he asked.

“Of course,” Rose found herself saying. So much for keeping out of his way . . . “Who else is coming?”

“Just us,” Alastair said with a shrug. “Everyone else has gone out for a while to do some last-minute shopping. Except Aunt Helena, but I doubt she’s even up yet.”

“Are you sure Fiona won’t want to do it with you?” asked Rose, feeling mildly panicked. Just the two of them?

“I thought it would be a nice surprise for her, and going to get it was always something I did with Dad. She’d be making mince pies with Mum and Mrs Reed.”

“Okay, sounds fun. I can be ready in five minutes.”

Rose hurried upstairs to her room and got bundled up, once again thankful for the loan of Isla’s wellies which now lived on the boot stand in the hallway so she could use them whenever she needed.

When she came back downstairs, Alastair was waiting by the door with a small chainsaw in hand.

“You look ready to massacre,” Rose joked.

Alastair grinned. “We’re going to get the biggest piece of wood we can find that will fit into that fireplace.”

“You’ve taken exact measurements, right?” Rose teased.

Alastair looked at her incredulously. “Do you honestly think I haven’t had those measurements memorised since I was eight?” he asked.

Rose laughed. “You’re really taking this seriously, aren’t you?”

“If you’re going to do something, you may as well do it properly.”

“Fair enough. Let’s head out with that chainsaw of yours then . . .”

* * *

They set out on the same route Isla took Rose on. There was no uncertainty this time; she trusted Alastair and was confident he knew exactly where he was going. She was grateful that he didn’t lead her uphill though, rather taking them along fairly level ground and into a woodland.

They followed a path winding through the trees. Rose did her best to dodge the worst of the mud.

“Growing up, this place was like a playground for Fiona and I,” Alastair said.

“It sounds like you had a wonderful childhood,” said Rose.

“Yes, I did. What about you?”

“It was just me and Mum, but it was good. Very different to yours, but I was happy and loved.”

“I’m glad,” he said, looking over at her. “It’s important you’ve got those memories.”

“It is. It’s comforting to have them.”

They wandered around, pointing out potential candidates for this year’s yule log. Any that looked particularly promising were checked with the measuring tape Alastair had in his pocket.

“I’ve asked Aunt Helena to move in,” Alastair said, offering his hand to Rose as she stepped over a fallen tree trunk.

“Oh, wow. What did she say?”

“She said she’d think about it,” Alastair said with a wry smile. “She hates the idea of being dependent on anyone but I know she’s struggling by herself. Fiona’s asked her before and she said no, but Aunt Helena hates Manchester and she thinks Fiona will fuss over her.”

“And you won’t?”

“I’ll try not to,” Alastair said with a laugh.

“Do you think she’ll say yes eventually?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve offered her her room in the house permanently, which is what I’d prefer, or she could have a cottage on the estate so at least Isla and I would be close by if she needed us.” He was quiet for a moment. “She had a heart attack in June,” he continued, quietly. “Only a small one, and the doctors say she’s doing well now . . . but . . .”

“You’re worried about her,” Rose finished for him.

“Yes,” he admitted. “And I’d like her close by so I can help if she needs it.”

“That sounds like a really sensible idea,” said Rose.

The sky got darker and darker, and Rose glancing up at it anxiously. “Um . . . we might want to hurry, it looks like it’s going to rain soon.”

“Finding the perfect yule log cannot be rushed,” murmured Alastair as he measured yet another piece of wood.

“We’re supposed to be looking after the twins in just over an hour and Aunt Helena can’t take over if we’re not there because she’s painting all morning and threatened to throw things at anyone who disturbed her,” reminded Rose.

“You make a good point.” And at that very point the heavens opened.

“Oh, great,” Rose said on a sigh. “Please tell me that’s the log we’re going to take home.”

“It might be . . . But we’ve got at least four centimetres to spare. I think we can do better.”

Twenty minutes later, Rose was completely soaked through and would have gladly abandoned Alastair to his fate if she’d been absolutely sure of the way back to the house.

The mud was so thick in places that walking was slow and difficult and she was thoroughly fed up with this whole stupid tradition.

“That one looks fine,” she snapped, as Alastair measured yet another log that looked exactly the same as about twenty of the others he’d measured.

Alastair stood up decisively. “I want to re-measure that one by the big oak . . .” And he wandered back the way they’d come.

Rose swore under her breath as she felt more rain going down the back of her neck. “Please, can we go back now?” she asked.

“Bear with me, let me just check this.”

Rose was getting wetter and wetter and increasingly grumpy. She could be sketching in the nice dry sitting room right now, enjoying the warmth from the fire, but no, she had to agree to go on this ridiculous quest. She narrowed her eyes at Alastair’s back.

“Ah ha,” Alastair said happily, seemingly unfazed by the pouring rain and Rose’s animosity. “This is the one! We’d better start heading back. Don’t want to be late for Fiona and Paul.”

He picked up the log.

“Could you carry the chainsaw for me?” he asked cheerfully. “Turns out we didn’t need it after all.”

Rose glared at him. The only thing that could have made this whole stupid experience worse was having to carry that stupid chainsaw, and there you go . . .

“Or . . . I can just carry it . . .” said Alastair. He popped its carrying strap over his shoulder.

“I think that’s probably a better idea.”

“It’ll be quicker for us to get back if we continue on and do a circuit,” said Alastair, striding down the path.

Trying to focus on being back in the dry, Rose followed him.

They came to a little stream, with some large rocks forming a path across it. Alastair stepped on one confidently, barely changing his walking pace. Rose, however, slowed down, searching to see if there was a better place to cross; the rocks were very wet and slippery. Alastair hadn’t realised she’d stopped and was marching on ahead. She neither wanted to lose sight of him nor have to call him back to help her. She decided just to go for it and hopped onto the largest, closest of the rocks . . . She immediately discovered that Isla’s old wellington boots didn’t have the greatest grip in the world. Her foot slipped and almost before she knew what was happening, she‘d yelped, there was a splash and she found herself sitting in the middle of the stream with a sore, wet bottom.

Alastair turned and ran back to her, dropping the log and his chainsaw.

“Are you all right?” he asked, stepping on one of the stones to get closer to her. He took her hand and pulled her out of the water.

“No, I’m not all right!” Rose cried, indignantly. She looked down at herself. She was a mess.

“I mean are you hurt ?” Alastair said. Rose glared at him as she spotted a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“My bum hurts,” she said. “But I’m okay, I think.”

“Can you walk?” Alastair prompted. “Or do you need me to carry you back?”

“And leave your precious log?” snapped Rose.

“I would leave my precious log if you needed me to.” Alastair spoke so gallantly that a little laugh almost escaped from Rose despite the situation.

“I can walk,” she said quietly. “I can’t believe this. The bruises have barely healed from ice skating.”

“We’ll take it slowly.” Alastair picked up his things.

They walked back to the house in silence apart from the squelching of water and mud coming from inside Rose’s boots. Alastair went to put the chainsaw back in the tool shed while Rose took her boots off outside the back door and trudged up the stairs to have a quick bath before the children returned. Though it would serve Alastair right if he had to take them to see Father Christmas by himself . . . If she hadn’t solemnly promised Isla she’d be there, she’d be very tempted to leave him to it.

She was absolutely freezing and shivering as she sank into the hot water and closed her eyes. What a disaster of a Christmas activity. Why would Alastair even want to do something like that? It was awful! Because it was something he used to do with his dad when he was small . . . said a little voice in her head. He missed his dad and he really struggled with Christmas and had asked her to do one little thing for him. He’d gone from not wanting to have anything to do with Christmas to trying to get into the Christmas spirit and trusting her enough to want to include her in restarting a family tradition he loved. And she’d gone and got in a strop because of a little bit of mud and rain. Okay, the dunking in the stream was unfortunate, but, big picture, she should have behaved better. Again !

She forced herself out of the warmth of the water and wrapped herself in a towel.

She got dressed and went downstairs. She found Alastair in the kitchen.

“I made you a cup of tea,” he said, holding out a mug.

“Thank you,” Rose said, accepting the drink and sitting down at the island. Alastair took the stool next to her.

“Are you all right?” he asked ― at the exact same time she said, “I’m sorry.”

“You answer my question first,” Alastair urged, with a smile.

“I’m fine.” She shook her head at herself. “But I shouldn’t have got as annoyed as I did. You asked me to join you, and it was important to you and . . . well . . . I was a bit rubbish. It was only a bit of mud and rain. There was no need for me to make such a fuss or to be so grumpy.”

Alastair let out a deep laugh. “Are you kidding me? You made it perfect!”

“What?” asked Rose incredulously.

“Every year when I was little, my dad and I would go out together to get my precious log.” Alastair looked at her with raised brows when he said precious. “It felt like every year we got rained on, and Dad got annoyed with me for taking too long choosing, and then we’d end up arguing over which was the best log . . . By the time we got home we were usually barely speaking to each other.” He laughed out loud. “Then my mum would act as peacemaker, making sure we got warmed up and feeding us, and all would be forgiven.”

“This sounds like a truly terrible family tradition now that I hear all the details,” declared Rose.

“I’m sorry you had a bad time and that you fell over in the stream.”

“I appreciate you managing not to laugh at me when that happened.”

“I was worried about you. Though once I knew you were okay, you looked so mad, I didn’t dare laugh.”

“I was pretty mad,” agreed Rose. “And my bum hurt. Why do activities I do with you tend to end up with me sore?”

Alastair grinned which, for some reason, made Rose blush. “Hopefully seeing Father Christmas later will be pain-free.”

“It had better be,” muttered Rose, taking a sip of her tea.

“I’ve put the log in front of the fire in the sitting room to dry out, by the way . . . Would you like to see it?”

“I don’t want to hear another word about that stupid log,” Rose snapped, but she was smiling.

“Fair enough. May I make you a peace offering slice of quiche and some salad for lunch before everyone gets back?”

“I would love some lunch, but you don’t need to make a peace offering, we’re good,” Rose reassured him.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to make up for the terrible time you had earlier, I will gladly do it,” Alastair said sincerely.

“I may hold you to that,” Rose threatened.

Rose checked her phone while Alastair put lunch together. She had a missed call from a local number. As she was about to ring it back, her mobile rang again with the same number showing.

“Hello?” she said, accepting the call.

“Hello, this is Tina from the Cairn Farm Centre. I’m calling about our Father Christmas experience. I believe that you have tickets booked.”

“That’s right,” said Rose. “At three o’clock.”

“I’m very sorry, but our Father Christmas has been taken ill. We’re trying to find someone willing to take his place for this afternoon, but we haven’t had any luck so far.”

Without missing a beat, Rose asked, “Would he need to supply his own costume?” Alastair glanced over at her with raised eyebrows.

“Oh no, we have a variety of sizes of costume here. We just need someone before three this afternoon.”

“I think I may have just solved your problem.” Rose grinned at Alastair. “Your replacement Father Christmas will be with you by two thirty.”

* * *

“I cannot believe you’re making me do this!” Alastair said, yet again, as Rose helped him on with the Father Christmas costume in a store room at the back of the farm shop.

“Imagine how upset the twins would have been if their Father Christmas visit had been cancelled!” Rose said. “You know how much they’ve been looking forward to it. And Isla’s been really excited about bringing them here.”

“I’m pretty sure they could have found someone else to step in,” grumbled Alastair.

“They hadn’t been able to and it’s only for a few hours,” Rose said. “Anyway, I think this beard kind of suits you.” She gave his big white beard a gentle tug.

She stepped back to take in the full effect. “Very believable,” she said, before whipping her phone out and taking a few photos before Alastair could stop her.

“Right, I’d better get back to Isla and the twins. The longer I’m here, the more likely they’ll do something to upset Aunt Helena,” Rose said. “Have fun! Oh, and on the subject of costumes, don’t forget about returning the dress you hired for me. You were going to do that today?”

“It’s on the back seat of my car. I’ll make a detour on the way home.”

Rose was heading to the door when she stopped. “Are you sure you don’t mind? This, I mean? The Father Christmas thing?”

“Not at all,” Alastair said on a dramatic sigh. “You’ll have all the kids, after all. This is easier!” Thankfully he was smiling.

“Okay.” Rose went to leave again, but turned back. “Thank you, by the way. So much. For getting me the dress. I’ve never worn anything like it before and I felt like a movie star or something.”

“You looked beautiful in it,” Alastair said softly, catching and holding her gaze.

Rose’s heart skipped a beat. She forced a light-hearted response. “Thank you, Santa,” she said, before fleeing to find Aunt Helena and the children.

* * *

Rose was giggling to herself at the thought of Alastair in his costume as she met up with Isla and the twins; they were in the indoor play area being watched over by a rather unimpressed-looking Aunt Helena.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on them,” Rose said on joining her.

“I wouldn’t miss my nephew doing this for the world, but I do wish there weren’t quite so many children around.”

“It is a Father Christmas experience,” Rose pointed out. “It’s not completely unusual for there to be children here.”

“Well, I don’t see any need for them to be quite so loud,” Aunt Helena said huffily.

Rose signalled to Isla to come and join them.

“I can’t believe Dad’s going to do this,” Isla whispered to Rose.

“Me neither,” Rose confessed.

“Do you think James and Sam will recognise him?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon,” said Rose.

They walked across the store and outside to the barn where Santa’s Grotto was set up and an elf checked tickets. ‘Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town’ was playing, bringing back painful memories of that song being stuck on repeat for hours when she worked in the Christmas shop.

They joined the short queue.

“Do you think we’ll get a present?” James asked Rose, looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Oh, I’d imagine so,” she said. “I bet you’ve both been very good boys this year.”

The look that passed between the twins at this point was probably the cutest thing Rose had ever seen.

“You know,” she said, “Father Christmas doesn’t expect you to be perfectly behaved all the time.”

“Really?” checked James.

“Really,” Rose confirmed.

“Are you all going to come in with us?” Sam asked.

“Oh yes,” said Rose.

“Even you, Aunt Helena?” asked James.

“I don’t want to miss this,” Aunt Helena replied.

“It’s a shame Uncle Alastair couldn’t come,” said Sam.

“It is, but I’ll make sure I take lots of photos for him and your mum and dad.”

They were close to the front of the queue so it didn’t take long for it to be their turn to go in.

The elf showed them all through the door into a large room. There was a pretend fire at the far end and a large red armchair in which Alastair sat resplendent as Father Christmas, wicker baskets full of wrapped presents on the ground next to him. There was a much smaller armchair next to him for a child to sit in and share their Christmas list with him.

“Ho ho ho,” said Alastair in a suitably deep Father Christmassy voice. “Which one of you is going to come to speak to me first then?”

Rose glanced over at Isla who stood between her and Aunt Helena. They shared a sneaky grin at Alastair’s surprisingly good performance.

The twins had already discussed this at length and several rounds of rock, paper, scissors later had come to the agreement that James would go first.

“I am!” James cried excitedly.

Rose saw Alistair fiddle with his beard to ensure that as much of his face was covered as possible and began taking photos on her phone. Fiona would definitely want to see this and Rose knew she wanted to capture it for herself as well.

“Well, why don’t you come and sit down next to me and you can tell me what you’d like for Christmas?”

James sat on the edge of the chair. He was clearly very nervous. Rose smiled at him to try to reassure.

“What’s your name then, young man?” Alastair asked.

“James,” came out as a squeak.

“And have you been a good boy, James?” asked Alastair. Rose caught his eye; she suspected he was enjoying himself.

“I think so,” said James, carefully.

He was so nervous he wasn’t able to look at Father Christmas.

“I happen to have been told that you have been very good,” Father Christmas reassured him. James looked slightly happier.

“And what would you like for Christmas?” Alastair asked gently. Rose spotted him giving Isla a wink and heard his daughter stifle a giggle.

James looked stricken. In all the excitement it seemed he’d completely forgotten what he wanted to ask for. Rose didn’t know what to do. The two boys had been discussing what they’d ask for in the car on the way there. Should she interfere? Would that embarrass James?

Suddenly Sam piped up with, “He’d like a football goal and gloves, please.”

James looked at his brother gratefully.

“And what’s your name?” Father Christmas asked.

“I’m Sam. I’m James’s twin brother. I’m actually twelve minutes older than him.”

“Would you like your brother to come and join us?” Father Christmas asked James. James nodded and Sam marched forward, his brother wiggling over in the armchair to make room for him.

Alastair looked up and caught Rose’s eye. She smiled in response as Sam started explaining the exact football he’d like and how he and his brother were going to start their own football team.

* * *

Alastair gave Rose a wink as the boys chose a present each and trailed out of the grotto with Rose, Isla and Aunt Helena.

“Shall we get back to Uncle Alastair’s house so we’ll be there when your mum and dad get back?” Rose said.

“Yes,” said Sam, excitedly. “I want to play with Houdini!”

“You can give him his tea if you like,” offered Isla. “Both of you can do it,” she added quickly, seeing James’s face fall.

“Wasn’t Dad brilliant?” Isla said once her cousins were out of earshot.

“He really was,” agreed Rose.

“I don’t think the twins had any idea who it was.”

“He was very convincing!”

“Thanks for everything you’ve done by the way, Rose,” Isla said quietly. “I just know this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

“I hope you’re right . . . I’m a bit nervous.”

“I’m most definitely right, and there’s absolutely no need for you to be nervous. Even Dad is looking forward to it and he can’t stand Christmas usually.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” said Rose, diplomatically.

“It is. He tries to pretend he’s having fun, but I know he’s glad when Christmas is over. But not this year.”

“I’m so glad,” said Rose, smiling.

“You know,” said Isla slowly. “It’s not his fault my dad’s kind of grumpy about Christmas . . .”

Rose put an arm around her. “He told me about your mum.” Rose felt it best to be honest.

“Cool,” said Isla. She let out a little sigh and looked relieved. “I’m glad you know.”

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Thank you,” said Isla, her eyes focusing on the ground. “I don’t remember my mum and I’ve got lots of people who love me.”

“You and your dad make an excellent team.”

“We do. I love having you here too though. You’re really fun.” She stopped and hugged Rose tightly.

“I’ve loved being here too,” said Rose, refusing to allow herself to think about her return to London tomorrow.

They approached the car and Rose opened the doors for everyone.

“Isla, will you go in the back with your cousins, please,” called Aunt Helena.

“She just doesn’t want to be stuck in between the twins talking about football,” Isla whispered to Rose, giggling. “Of course, Aunt Helena,” she replied at a normal volume.

Had she truly managed to change how Alastair felt about Christmas, Rose wondered. Now she knew about Isla’s mother, she completely understood why Alastair had spent so many years avoiding Christmas as much as possible, but it must be lovely for Isla to see her dad joining in and enjoying the festivities. She certainly couldn’t have imagined the Alastair she’d met a few weeks ago dressing up as Father Christmas and winking at her!

* * *

The children entertained themselves with Houdini and the dogs and cartoons until their parents came home. Rose waited until the boys and Isla had gone back into the sitting room before showing their mum and dad the photos from the grotto. Father Christmas himself wasn’t due back for another couple of hours.

“It looks like my older brother actually made a half-decent Santa Claus,” said Fiona, laughing. “Thank you so much for organising this for the boys. It really meant a lot to them.”

“I’m glad they had a good time, and it was certainly more enjoyable than the other Christmas tradition I got roped into today. Yule logs are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Yes,” said Fiona, rolling her eyes. “I always thought that was a daft idea, hence why I chose to never partake in that particular piece of festive fun. Especially with the arguments that invariably ensued!”

Rose winced. “You and your mum had the right idea,” she said. Though she knew that if Alastair asked her to go out with him again now, in the dark, to get another perfect log, she’d be pulling on Isla’s still soggy old wellies and heading out there with him. But she wouldn’t get the chance to do anything like that again because it was almost time for her to leave and return to her little flat in London.

If her visit to Scotland had taught her anything, it was that she’d reached the point where she needed to step out of herself a little bit and open up to other people again. She didn’t want to be alone grieving in her home anymore. Her mum would want her to start properly living life again, and that included prioritising her art.

Hopefully, this would be the last Christmas that she spent by herself.

She’d decided not to make a big deal about leaving; it seemed silly to as she was just there to do a job. Would she even be missed when there were so many people here all happy to be enjoying Christmas together?

Feeling a little maudlin, Rose excused herself and went up to her room so she could recalibrate and get control of her feelings before joining everyone for her last dinner in the house. They were all so happy and excited about it being Christmas Eve tomorrow. It wouldn’t be right for her to bring them down with her melancholy mood.

She lay down on her bed, going over all the preparations and everything she’d put in place for Alastair’s family’s Christmas. She was so pleased with how everything had gone so far, but also very aware of how soon it was until she was leaving and that she wouldn’t get to experience many of the fruits of her labours. She shook her head; this wouldn’t do. She should start packing, distract herself.

She’d brought and wrapped presents for everyone. She knew they wouldn’t be expecting it, but she’d wanted to. As a tiny thank you for what they’d done for her. Without them, who knows how long she’d have carried on in London living her half-life. Now she’d started drawing again, she knew how important it was for her to continue and work towards a career that somehow had art at its centre.

She heard the dogs bark and Houdini bleating as Alastair came home, and decided she’d just give herself a few more minutes and then she’d go down to join everyone. Finally, she forced herself up off the bed. It would soon be time for the dinner Fiona had been preparing to be served.

There was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Rose?” said Isla’s voice.

“Come in,” she called out and Isla opened the door, popping her head around it comically and making Rose smile.

“Hi, sweetie,” Rose said.

“Aunt Fiona’s wondering if you have got a minute? We wanted to talk to you about something in the kitchen.”

“Sure.” Rose hoped a last-minute problem hadn’t raised its ugly head.

She followed Isla down the stairs and into the kitchen where she was surprised to see the whole family gathered, even the twins looking very serious sitting on the stools at the kitchen island and working their way through a plate of Mrs Reed’s sugar cookies. Her gaze went straight to Alastair, who was making everyone hot drinks in the corner.

“Is everything all right?” Rose asked, looking around at all the people gathered there.

“Everything’s fine,” said Aunt Helena firmly. “But there’s a problem with the Christmas preparations.”

“Oh no, did I forget to do something?” Rose asked. “Is it too late for me to correct whatever it is?”

“No, no, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ve arranged everything for us perfectly,” said Fiona. “We’ve just come to the conclusion that there’s something we need, in order to make this Christmas extra special and we didn’t realise right away.”

“We really hope you can help us with it.” Isla was smiling.

“What is it?” asked Rose, praying it was something she could fix before she left.

Fiona elbowed her brother who had stayed quiet in the corner.

“We were . . . um . . . hoping you might consider staying here for Christmas with us,” he said, meeting Rose’s gaze and holding it for so long that Rose began to feel rather warm.

Fiona rolled her eyes at her brother, and continued explaining, “Please don’t feel in any way pressured to stay. It’s just that you said you didn’t have plans for the holidays and we’d love to have you here.”

“We don’t want you to go,” added Isla, earnestly.

“You’ve put so much work into making sure we have a great time, it would be a travesty if you didn’t get to experience the fun as well,” said Paul.

“And if you stay, you can have my pantomime ticket and I can get out of an afternoon of torture,” said Aunt Helena, making everybody laugh.

“Oh, wow,” said Rose, overwhelmed and suddenly feeling tears prick at the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know what to say . . .”

“Say yes!” cried Isla. “It’ll be so much fun to have you here!”

Rose looked around at all the people in the room, all eager to hear her decision. Would it be awkward for her to essentially gatecrash this family’s Christmas? If someone had asked her just a few weeks ago, she would have said she’d never do something for that. And yet . . . somehow staying over Christmas didn’t seem like such a ridiculous idea . . . she was here already and it wasn’t like she had anything she needed to get back to London for. She hadn’t thought she’d be bothered about Christmas and had planned to spend it like any other day, doing her best not to fall into reminiscing about the Christmases of the past, spent with her mum.

Staying here certainly seemed appealing. It would be lovely to be with people and to see the children opening up the presents she’d helped to choose . . .

Of course, she did need to sort herself out with a job as soon as possible, but how much would she be able to do over Christmas anyway? She’d just be sitting in her flat by herself trying to ignore the fact that everyone else was having a good time with friends and family. What was the point in doing that when she had people here wanting her to stay and enjoy Christmas with them? A Christmas she knew would be wonderful because she’d carefully planned it to be!

But what about Alastair? What about him? she demanded of herself. She seemed to have developed something of a crush on him, but she’d get over it. She’d probably never see him again after Christmas. She mentally shook her head. That didn’t need to be dealt with right now.

“If I am going to stay then I think I need to earn my keep,” Rose said with a little smile.

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Alastair said, aghast. “I want you here as a guest . . .”

“Well, I’m afraid I must insist on organising one final event: a little cocktail party for Christmas Eve. We’ll set up a bar in the library again.”

“Can I be in charge of mixing the drinks?” Paul asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Of course,” said Rose.

“Can I come?” Isla asked.

“Certainly,” replied Rose.

“Can we come?” asked Sam, his arm round his brother.

“You can come at the beginning but then you two are going to have to head to bed so that you can go to sleep and Father Christmas can deliver your presents,” said Fiona. This agreement seemed to satisfy the twins.

“Can we play jazz music and pretend we’re in the basement of a New York jazz club?” asked Aunt Helena.

“Naturally.”

“Can Houdini come?” asked Isla.

“No, I’m afraid not,” said Rose. Isla gave a little shrug; it had been worth a try.

“As everyone appears to be in accord, I suppose I can agree to your terms and conditions,” concluded Alastair.

“Oh, those aren’t all my terms and conditions,” said Rose.

“Should I be worried?”

“We need to cook a proper Christmas lunch,” Rose explained. “Roast turkey with all the trimmings. I’m not eating a takeaway like you’d planned to on Christmas Day.”

“Seconded,” said Fiona.

Alastair turned his attention to his sister. “You said a takeaway would be fun!”

“I knew Mrs Reed wasn’t going to be around and I didn’t want you to get stressed cooking a huge meal for everyone . . . Especially knowing how you used to feel about Christmas. I was trying to be accommodating.”

Alastair smiled at Rose and nodded decisively. “Fine, we will all cook Christmas lunch together. We can go out tomorrow to buy the ingredients.”

“Excellent. Let’s eat now then,” said Fiona. “We can hash out the rest of the details before the boys go to bed.”

Rose caught Alastair looking at her and grinned. She realised she was now properly excited for Christmas. Something she honestly hadn’t thought was possible.