Chapter 18
Rose and Alastair set off to the supermarket early the next morning, hoping that it might mean that they missed the worst of the Christmas Eve crowds. No one else had wanted to go with them, citing that it was Alastair’s fault for not getting the food in before, and Rose’s for making it a proviso of her staying that they have a turkey. They all seemed to have conveniently forgotten that they were just as keen on having a proper Christmas dinner as Rose.
“You realise this is going to be a nightmare, don’t you?” Alastair said, pulling into the busy car park.
“It’ll be fine,” reassured Rose. “We’re completely organised, we have our list and our shopping bags.”
“It’s going to take hours . . .”
“No, it won’t,” said Rose, grabbing a trolley. “We’ll be done in no time.”
“Rose . . .” Alastair said, stopping her gently. “Can I check something with you?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“You weren’t bullied into staying with us, were you? I mean my family can be a lot when they set their mind on something and I know that this was going to be a difficult Christmas for you. If you want to go home, I’ll deal with them and take you to the train station.”
“I want to stay,” said Rose, holding his gaze. “It was lovely to be asked by everyone. I was dreading Christmas, and it’s still going to be hard, but I think it’ll be much easier surrounded by you all.” She had almost said that it would be easier with him, but managed to stop herself just in time. “I’m actually looking forward to Christmas now.”
“Me too,” said Alastair. He stared into her eyes a little longer before pulling away and saying, “This evening should be a lot of fun.”
“And the twins will be so cute opening their presents tomorrow.”
“They will be. I hope Isla likes her bike.”
“She’s going to be thrilled with it,” said Rose.
They walked into the supermarket. By the entrance there were piles of chocolate tubs. Alastair picked up two. “Heroes or Celebrations?” he asked.
“Um . . . Heroes, definitely,” said Rose. “Bounties are the worst chocolate bar ever invented and what is even the point of a Milky Way?”
“Exactly!” said Alastair. He put the tub of Heroes in the trolley. They walked around the supermarket, bickering cheerfully over food choices and picking up what they needed. It was busy but everyone seemed to be in the festive mood and the staff were quickly restocking the shelves so they managed to get everything they needed, including an enormous turkey.
* * *
They got home with pasties for an early lunch which they picked up from a bakery on the way back. The twins were so excited at the thought of Father Christmas coming, they didn’t seem to quite know what to do with themselves.
“I think maybe stopping the sugar for a while might be a good idea,” Fiona suggested, with both twins under the kitchen table attempting to have a lightsaber fight around the dogs.
“Have you got more wrapping to do?” asked Alastair.
“Yes, Paul and I got some done earlier, but there’s still more. Have you?”
“Nope, Rose got me all sorted with that.”
“I hope you didn’t get her to do all your wrapping for you?” Fiona said sternly.
“No, unfortunately, she made me do it.” He caught Rose’s glare. “Fine, she helped me with it,” he admitted. “Anyway, it’s dry out at the moment, would you like me to take the boys out for a walk? Burn some of their energy off.”
“That would be amazing,” said Paul, wincing as he got booped on the knee by a lightsaber.
“Not a problem,” said Alastair. “Hey guys, do you want to climb up to the hill fort with me?” he asked the twins, who roared their approval.
“Isla, will you come?”
“Sure!” she replied.
“Rose, you’re not going to leave me to handle this lot all by myself, are you?”
“I hate that hill,” admitted Rose. “It’s torturous!”
“Please come, Rose!” said Isla. “It will be so much fun if you’re with us.”
“You can use a dog to pull you up it,” Alastair suggested.
“Okay,” said Rose. “But I reserve the right to be grumpy.”
“You be as grumpy as you like.” Alastair chuckled. “Aunt Helena, what about you?”
“There is no way on earth you’d convince me to go up that ridiculous hill,” Aunt Helena stated, “so don’t even try. I shall sit and read in the sitting room by the tree, enjoying some peace and quiet.” She looked pointedly at the twins.
Fiona took this as her cue to quickly round up her children. “Let’s get you two ready, shall we? You’ll need to be well wrapped up to tackle that hill!” She ushered them out of the kitchen.
* * *
The hill climbing party returned a couple of hours later with two well-walked and much calmer little boys in their midst. The twins combined with the animals were so distracting that Rose found going up the hill much easier this time. She might even have enjoyed being out in the fresh air for a while.
Fiona and Paul were still locked away in the library getting the last of their wrapping done, so Alastair helped the twins out of their muddy outdoor clothes while Rose made the three children hot chocolates, making sure to use the Transformers mugs Alastair kept especially for the twins. She took them through to the sitting room, where even Aunt Helena was smiling at how cute the twins looked sitting on the sofa on either side of their bigger cousin as Alastair put on Arthur Christmas for them.
“Rose,” said Aunt Helena. “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me with something upstairs for a little while.”
“Um . . . of course.” Rose guessed she needed a hand with some wrapping or carrying presents down.
She followed Aunt Helena up to her room where an easel was set up with the canvas Aunt Helena was currently working on.
“May I?” Rose asked.
“Of course,” Aunt Helena said and Rose went over to the canvas to take a closer look. It was a watercolour of a city scene, but what really stood out was the people milling around, so vibrant going about their everyday lives. Aunt Helena’s style was almost Impressionist as she managed to convey so much character with seemingly few brushstrokes and defining details.
“Edinburgh?” Rose guessed.
“Yes, I began sketching for it in October when I had an exhibition there.”
“I love the light falling on this section,” said Rose.
Aunt Helena nodded.
“What did you need me for?” Rose asked, not taking her eyes off the painting. She felt like she could study it for hours.
“I would like you to join me while we have the last of the evening light,” Aunt Helena said simply. “This room has a wonderful view and I’ll bet you haven’t had a chance to begin capturing it yet. I’ve set up the table for you by the window.”
Rose walked over to the table. Fresh paper and a new box of sketching pencils lay enticingly upon it.
“Thank you, but I don’t draw . . .”
“I’ve spoken to Fiona and Isla about you,” Aunt Helena said. “And I’m interested to know if what they say is true. You have begun drawing again I understand and you may as well do it here as anywhere else. And if you’re anything like me, I imagine you could do with a break from the noise of downstairs.”
Rose considered arguing, but she realised she didn’t want to. Aunt Helena seemed to be sure the discussion was finished anyway and went over to her easel where she carefully put a large men’s shirt on over her clothes and picked up a paintbrush. Rose sat down at her table and opened the box of pencils, taking a moment to close her eyes and inhale their delicious scent. She selected a 3B, and began to draw.
* * *
The women worked in comfortable silence. Aunt Helena was right, the room did have the best light in the house.
Rose was so engrossed in her drawing and in getting as much down on paper as possible before the sun set, that she hadn’t realised Aunt Helena had stopped work and was standing behind her until she gently said, “That is quite lovely.”
“I’m very rusty,” Rose confessed.
“Fiona was right,” Aunt Helena commented before moving back to her own easel. “Do you work in any other medium?”
“Watercolours, actually,” admitted Rose.
“But you haven’t felt the urge to paint while you’ve been here?”
“Actually, I have. Some of the views are spectacular, but I didn’t bring paints or watercolour paper with me. I hadn’t done any form of art for so long. I don’t even know why I brought my sketchbook and pencils to be honest . . .”
“I would be very interested to see you paint. You’ve lost the light now, but perhaps you’d like to join me here again? And you are more than welcome to use my paints.”
“I would love that,” Rose found herself saying. It was heartfelt. She was rewarded with a smile.
* * *
Rose came downstairs from her drawing session feeling almost trance-like.
“You look like you had a good time,” said Alastair, coming out of the library.
“I did,” said Rose, with a grin. “Your aunt is . . .”
“A force to be reckoned with,” Alastair finished for her, making Rose laugh.
“And a great artist and teacher.”
“She is,” agreed Alastair.
“What have you been doing?” Rose asked, attempting to bring herself to the present moment.
“I’ve been starting to get things ready for this cocktail party you’re insisting we have,” Alastair teased.
“Would you like some help?”
“Absolutely.”
“Let’s take a look at what we’re working with then . . .”
“Great, oh, and I invited Mrs Reed and her family. They’ll be here at eight.”
“Excellent, we need everything looking perfect for her.”
“Yes, boss.” Alastair indicated for her to go into the library first.
All the wrapping stuff had been packed away so that the library could be transformed into a New York basement jazz bar as requested and Alastair had started moving tables around and bringing in more chairs. The table lamps dotted around, provided perfect lighting.
They were soon joined by Fiona and Paul who began setting up the bar area.
Alastair disappeared to much grumbling from Fiona who was certain her brother was just hiding away eating chocolate somewhere to get out of work.
However, when Alastair returned, he was carrying a vintage record player.
“Oh, wow!” said Fiona. “I remember that! Where did you find it?”
“I thought I recalled it being in the attic, and I struck lucky. There are also a couple of boxes of records up there. If one of you wants to give this a clean and set it up, I’ll go through the records and find any that sound jazzy.”
“That is an excellent idea,” said Rose. “I’ll wipe it down for you.”
“Thanks,” Alastair said, handing her the player. Their fingers touched and his gaze lingered just a little too long making Rose’s cheeks warm and her insides fizzle before he left again.
* * *
Rather than cooking, they ordered vast quantities of Chinese food for an early dinner.
“So takeaway is fine at Christmas as long as it’s not actually on Christmas Day?” Alastair said, sarcastically as everyone tore into the containers.
“Yep,” said Rose, taking a bite of a spring roll. “But don’t you agree that it’s going to be much more fun to cook a big meal together tomorrow?”
“I do,” said Alastair. “I’m happy to admit that I was wrong and that I’m looking forward to a proper Christmas dinner. As long as I’m not in charge of making sure the turkey’s cooked. I don’t want anyone poisoned.”
“Yeah,” said Fiona, “That’s definitely a job for someone else.”
She had a prawn cracker thrown at her in retaliation, much to the delight of her children.
* * *
When they’d finished eating, Paul and Fiona took their very excited boys upstairs to bath and get into their pyjamas while everyone else cleaned up, apart from Aunt Helena, who excused herself early declaring she needed longer to prepare for the cocktail party than the young people. Of course, no one minded one bit, and Rose noticed the concerned look Alastair gave his aunt, checking she was all right and wasn’t overdoing things.
Everyone else soon went to get ready for their fancy evening. Rose didn’t really have much choice on what to wear; it would have to be her black cocktail dress again. But that didn’t matter. She felt nice in it and it was kind of perfect for the occasion. She did her make-up and put her hair up in a sleek bun. When she gave herself a final check in the mirror, something was missing . . . She added some red lipstick. It wasn’t a shade she’d usually wear and she wasn’t even sure why she’d packed it, but she liked it. The thought briefly crossed her mind that she hoped Alastair would like it too.
* * *
When she came downstairs, the twins were on the sofa being read The Night Before Christmas by Isla while Fiona and Paul sat on the other sofa watching. It was just about the cutest thing Rose had ever seen. She surreptitiously managed to get a couple of photos to send to Fiona later.
She slipped out of the room, not wanting to intrude on this family time and almost collided with Alastair.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, and glanced up to meet his eyes.
“You look . . . great,” he said, his gaze moving down her body and back up to rest on her lips, making her blush.
“Thank you. So do you.” And he did, he’d changed into a fitted grey suit which he wore with a crisp white shirt with the top two buttons undone, showing just a hint of chest hair. But Rose knew that she liked him best when he was wearing his old jeans, which she happened to notice hugged his bottom very nicely, and one of his thick wool jumpers. But she could also appreciate him like this, especially as he looked significantly more relaxed than when he was usually wearing a shirt.
“Did you spot my precious log on the fire?” he asked, smirking.
“I’ll be glad when that stupid thing is nothing but ash,” replied Rose, making Alastair laugh.
“Would you like to help me choose the music for tonight?” he asked with a raised brow. “I brought down a load of records and I need to whittle them down. Oh, and check that the record player still works of course.”
“I’m happy to do that,” said Rose with a smile.
“You,” said Alastair, “are an absolute star, thank you.”
“Not a problem, all part of the service,” joked Rose.
“You’re not on a clock now,” Alastair said, suddenly serious. “I hope you’re here because you want to be with us . . . with me.”
“Uncle Alastair!” called Sam running into the room and breaking the moment, “Mum can’t find any carrots for Rudolph!”
“I guess story time’s over then,” said Alastair, giving Rose a smile before turning his attention completely to his little nephew, “Don’t worry, buddy. I know where they are. Why don’t you help me choose a good one?”
* * *
An hour later, the boys were in bed and the cocktails were flowing. Mrs Reed had seemed pleased to see Rose still in the house and hugged her warmly when she and her husband arrived. She’d now moved on to one of Paul’s lethal margaritas.
The record player ― that did work! ― was proving to be a huge success and there were many good-tempered arguments about whose turn it was to choose the next song.
“Rose, I would like to speak with you for a moment, if I may.” Aunt Helena tapped Rose on the shoulder.
“Of course. Are you having a good evening?”
“Just wonderful, dear. And I really cannot begin to describe the difference you have made to this home. You truly have brought the spirit of Christmas here.”
“Thank you.” Rose was touched, “That’s such a lovely thing for you to say.”
“Well, it’s the truth! But that isn’t actually what I want to talk to you about now,” continued Aunt Helena, purposefully. “The fact of the matter is that I have a job offer for you, young lady.”
“A job offer?” repeated Rose.
“Indeed. I’m guessing my nephew has told you that he’s invited me to live with him?”
“He has,” admitted Rose.
“Well, I plan to take him up on his very kind offer. It’s time for me to accept that I’m better off not living completely alone. But if he thinks I’m living in this madhouse, he’s got another think coming. I will keep my room here as my art studio and reside in a very pleasant cottage on the estate. I’ve actually had my eye on one for a while. But that’s between the two of us.
“Anyway, to the point. I will need an assistant of sorts. Someone to arrange engagements for me, drive me to meetings, order art supplies . . . that kind of thing. I am very particular about who enters my studios, but you and I would work well together, I think. It wouldn’t be full-time, but I’d pay well and it would give you the time to be able to pick up your own artwork again.”
“Oh, I wasn’t planning to . . .”
Auntie Helena put a hand on Rose’s arm. “You are a very talented artist, Rose. It would be a travesty if you didn’t at least explore it a little further. If that’s something you’re interested in, of course?”
“It is,” admitted Rose quietly. “Absolutely it is.”
“And, of course, having you stay around has the added benefit of making my favourite nephew very happy,” said Aunt Helena with a wink.
“There’s nothing going on between Alastair and me,” said Rose, quickly.
“Nothing going on yet ,” replied Aunt Helena with a wink. “Think about my offer.” And with that, Aunt Helena wandered off to get a refill of her drink from Paul.
Rose looked around at the people in the room. She felt such affection for them all. Her eyes finally rested on Alastair who was laughing with his daughter. Imagine getting to stay here. To work for such a fantastic artist, and have time for her own artwork. And to see Alastair every day . . . Almost like he knew he was being watched, Alastair glanced up, caught her eye and smiled. Her stomach flipped. Did he like her? Like her, like her?
“He’s very happy you stayed,” said Mrs Reed, coming up next to her and indicating Alastair.
“Oh . . . um . . . well, it was really kind of everyone to invite me,” said Rose.
“I think I was wrong to say what I did before. I’m protective over him, but it wasn’t fair. You’re not the sort to hurt him and you being here has been good for him, and for Isla.” Mrs Reed smiled, patted Rose on the arm, before going to speak to Fiona. Rose was left rather red in the cheeks and swallowing hard. Had everyone been discussing her and Alastair apart from actually her and Alastair? Maybe it was time to do something about that . . .
Rose went over to the man himself, abandoned by Isla who had taken some treats out to Houdini who she fretted was missing out on all the fun. “I’m sure it must be my turn to choose a record now,” she said.
“Are you certain? I think it’s my turn.” Rose pulled a face at him and looked through the choices.
“This one,” she said, pulling out a copy of Henry Mancini’s ‘Moon River’. “It was my nan’s favourite.”
“A worthy choice,” agreed Alastair. He took the record out of its sleeve and placed it on the turntable. The music began.
“Would you dance with me?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Rose looked around the room. “No one else is dancing.”
“So?” said Alastair with a shrug. Rose took his hand. She was going to go along with whatever was happening here. There was absolutely no point to her trying to resist anyway. She was well beyond that.
There was a knock at the front door. “Just give me a minute,” Alastair said, dropping her hand with a reluctant smile.
She watched him walk out of the room with butterflies in her stomach.
He returned a few minutes later, followed by Sarah and Lucy. Isla spotted her friend and went running over to hug her excitedly. The girls disappeared together.
“I’m so sorry to intrude,” said Sarah to everyone. “We were on our way home and Lucy and I just thought it would be so lovely to wish a happy Christmas to you all.”
It seemed Rose and Alastair were destined to be interrupted anytime they were even considering dancing together.
“Will you stay for a drink?” Alastair asked, hospitably.
“I suppose I’d better as I appear to have lost my daughter,” Sarah said with an annoying, twinkly laugh.
Alastair took her over to where Paul was holding court, surrounded by cocktail-making ingredients.
“What’s she doing here?” asked Fiona, coming over to speak with Rose.
“No idea,” Rose said. “But it doesn’t look like she’s going to be in any hurry to leave.”
* * *
An hour later and Sarah was still hanging around monopolising Alastair’s company. Rose had been doing her best to ignore them and enjoy herself. She’d been looking forward to this evening and it would be a shame to spoil it because a boy she liked wasn’t paying her attention. But she was so sad their dance had been spoiled yet again.
She carried a bunch of empty glasses out into the kitchen and was loading them in the dishwasher when Sarah and Alastair walked past the door. She heard Sarah say, “Oh, I absolutely insist you show me this Christmas tree. It sounds so vintage.”
She managed to last about a minute before she couldn’t bear it any longer. She had to know what was going on between those two. She came out of the kitchen and walked quietly through to the sitting room; its door was thankfully open.
She peered through the gap between the edge of the door and the doorframe.
“It’s getting late,” she heard Alastair say. “It’ll be time for me to try to convince Isla to go to bed soon.”
“Oh, she can stay up a bit longer, can’t she?” Sarah replied. “It’s Christmas, after all.”
“Hi, Rose!” said Isla from behind her. “What on earth are you doing?”
Rose jumped and turned around to face Isla and Lucy who were both looking at her quizzically.
Before Rose could think up a plausible reply, she was saved by Alastair saying, “Just the daughter I wanted to see. I’m afraid it’s time for you to be thrown out of this party, young lady.”
Isla gave a dramatic sigh.
“I’m sure Lucy needs to be getting home as well,” he added firmly.
“Oh, right, well, yes, I suppose so,” said Sarah. She did not look best pleased. “I guess we’d better get our stuff together.”
Rose made herself scarce while Sarah and Lucy left, not least because she was finding it hard to disguise the grin on her face. Surely there was no way that Alastair would be chucking Sarah out if he had any interest in her.
Conversely, he’d asked Rose to dance twice now as well as suggesting they go to get the yule log together . . . Not that that had turned out to be romantic in any way, shape or form, but still . . . And he wasn’t her employer anymore. She was here as a guest.
* * *
Isla hung up her stocking and said good night to everyone before heading off to bed. The party reluctantly began to draw to a close with everyone knowing they’d be woken up early in the morning by overexcited children. Mrs Reed had to be stopped from helping with the cleaning and she and her husband left amid hugs and wishes for a merry Christmas.
Fiona, Paul and Aunt Helena said good night, leaving just Rose and Alastair downstairs emptying the dishwasher and hand-washing the delicate cocktail glasses.
Alastair sighed dramatically. “How come we’re always the last ones standing when it comes to clearing up?”
“Must be because we’re so good at it.” Rose giggled.
“Do you think Isla will be asleep yet?”
“Probably not,” said Rose. “I never used to sleep on Christmas Eve when I was a kid.”
“I’ll give her another few minutes and then I’ll go and check.”
“You know Fiona and Paul hid their presents in the wine cellar so they were able to retrieve them easily without potentially disturbing sleeping children. Why didn’t we think of that?” muttered Rose.
“The wardrobe was your idea, if I recall,” said Alastair.
“And it was a good idea . . . but the wine cellar is better.”
Alastair snuck upstairs to check on Isla. “I think she’s asleep,” he proclaimed when he returned. “Shall we take our chance?”
“Absolutely,” said Rose.
Alastair stopped. “Sorry, I think I just assumed we’d do this together.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It seems I have a habit of doing that . . .”
“It’s fine. I’d like to help,” Rose reassured.
They went upstairs and Rose opened the door to her room. They both walked in and Rose promptly pushed the door to behind them. Alastair raised an eyebrow comically, making Rose giggle. “In case Isla wakes up and comes out of her room,” she whispered.
“Whatever you say . . .” said Alastair in such a way that it led to him being given a thump on the arm.
“Let’s get these presents sorted out,” said Rose, opening the wardrobe. “Why don’t you take this one?” she said, turning around with a large present in her hand and finding herself facing Alastair’s chest. She looked up and handed the present to him. “You’re very tall, you know,” she said, swallowing heavily.
“And you’re very small,” Alastair replied, huskily. His eyes locked with hers.
“Too small,” Rose joked, not able to move her eyes from Alastair’s.
“I actually think you’re perfectly sized,” Alastair said. He bent down slowly, never taking his eyes off hers until their lips were mere inches apart. He stopped, checking for her assent. Somehow, Rose managed to give the tiniest of nods and then, suddenly, he was kissing her with such intensity that it took her breath away.
The present landed on the ground between them with a soft thump as he pulled her to him, his hands strong against her waist. Rose’s heart thumped wildly in her chest and she reached up and put her arms around his neck.
Rose felt Alastair falter suddenly.
“I thought I heard something,” he said springing away from her. “Isla.”
Rose listened and could indeed hear footsteps going down the stairs. Before she could say anything though, Alastair gave her an agonised look and hurried out of the room.
Rose was left alone in her bedroom feeling completely deflated. She waited a few minutes, allowing her breathing to calm and hoping that Alastair would return to her. When he didn’t, she began carrying the presents downstairs — somebody had to and as they were in her bedroom, she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep until they did. Plus, she didn’t really know what else to do with herself.
The light in the hallway downstairs had been left on so Rose could see where she was going. As she reached the entrance hall and walked through to the sitting room, she saw the kitchen door had been pushed to. She could hear whispered voices from behind it. She hurried past, not wanting to be caught red-handed with the presents and wondering if it would be better to turn back. But she was almost at the sitting room now and knew Alastair wouldn’t let Isla in there.
She smiled at the sight of the twins’ stockings full to bursting even though she really felt like crying.
She didn’t know why Alastair had kissed her, did he regret it now?
She’d been so looking forward to Christmas Day, and now she’d ruined it by kissing her boss. Or had he kissed her? The whole thing was a blur of lips and hands and . . . Okay, she needed to just get the presents under the tree so she could go up to bed and hopefully wake up realising the last half an hour had all been a dream.
She arranged the presents and headed back upstairs where Alastair was coming out of Isla’s bedroom and softly closing the door behind him.
Rose took a deep breath before she asked quietly, “Is she okay?”
“Yeah,” Alastair said. “She needed a glass of water and we got chatting . . . I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Um . . . about what happened before . . .”
“Paul’s cocktails are lethal,” said Rose as cheerfully as she could manage.
“Yeah . . .” Alastair looked like he was going to say more but Rose honestly couldn’t face dealing with him continuing to try to let her down gently.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a shrug. “It’s late so I started taking the presents downstairs . . .”
“Thanks, that was good of you. I can take over if you like.”
“Great. The bag with all Isla’s stocking gifts is right at the back of the wardrobe, under a blanket.” said Rose, grateful for the excuse not to have to spend any more time with him. “I guess I’ll take a quick shower then.”
He didn’t meet her eye. “I’ll be done and out of your way before you’re finished.”