Chapter Twenty-Two Noelle
I think I’m hardwired to wake up early on Christmas morning.
It’s been like this since I was a young girl.
Eve and I would try to stay up all night on Christmas Eve in an attempt to catch Father Christmas in the act, only to inevitably fall asleep before midnight and miss all the action.
But we’d always wake up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day, and that habit has apparently followed me into adulthood.
It’s why I’m up before the sun right now without setting an alarm.
I stretch out in the bed, forgetting for a minute where I am.
For a moment, I wonder why it’s so quiet.
Why I don’t hear the sound of my little cousins shrieking and playing as they tear open the handful of gifts they’re allowed to open before breakfast. But then Alex stirs beside me, curling his body into the space I’ve just made by sitting upright and everything floods back to me.
I watch him for a little while. His features are softened in sleep, the frown lines that often crease his forehead are smoothed away. He looks more peaceful and content than I’ve ever seen him before.
I slide out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb him, and pad softly across the room.
I open the curtains just enough for me to confirm that it’s no longer snowing at all.
The sky is a pinkish-blue, and the snow that covers the world outside is melting rapidly enough for me to spy patches of green and brown in the fields in the distance.
Not quite a white Christmas but, given what we’ve endured over the last four days, I’ll take it.
A jolt of excitement shoots through me suddenly as I remember that it is, in fact, Christmas Day.
I try to imagine what my family are up to right now.
I have no doubt in my mind that Eve is up just as early as I am.
I can picture her and Nathan cuddled up in bed together, swapping their gifts before they head downstairs into the chaos that is the Jones family’s Christmas morning.
I bet my younger cousins are already running wild around the Christmas tree, sorting their piles and piles of presents into neat stacks ready for when the adults come down and give them the go-ahead to tear into them.
A handful of people will be in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, the smell of frying bacon and sausages and egg quickly filling Gran’s house.
I’m actually surprised Eve hasn’t messaged or called yet. I half expected to wake up with a flurry of notifications of missed calls and increasingly agitated texts, but my phone remains silent. I fire off a quick:
Noelle
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!
CALL ME WHEN YOU’RE UP
and expect my phone to vibrate in response almost immediately after, but nothing comes.
Weird.
But I don’t have time to dwell it on right now. I’ve got a plan and the success of it depends largely on how much I can get done before Alex wakes up. Luckily, it seems like he’s dead to the world. He clearly hasn’t been hard-wired to wake up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day.
I pull on some clothes and tiptoe out of the room and downstairs into the kitchen as quickly as I can. I pull out the food Alex and I prepared last night and stick the chicken in the oven to roast for later.
Once that’s cooking on low, I turn my attention to the whole reason I’m down here in the first place.
Today isn’t just Christmas, it’s Alex’s birthday and I’m determined to make it special.
For once. I throw open the cupboards and pull out the ingredients I need for a simple cake.
I’d love to go all out, especially now I know Hoxton’s history with Christmas, but we’re running low on the core ingredients.
There’s just enough flour, butter and eggs to make a small, but tasty, cake.
The decadent, three-tiered genoise sponge I have in mind will have to wait until next year.
This year it’s all about just letting him know that he hasn’t been forgotten.
That the years of birthdays spent playing second fiddle to Christmas are over now.
I gather all the ingredients I need and start mixing the batter, the rhythmic sound of the wooden spoon against the metal bowl a comforting background noise in the silence of the kitchen. It helps to ground me and keep my thoughts from drifting back towards my family.
Why haven’t they called or messaged yet?
It’s not like Eve to be silent on Christmas morning – or, ever actually.
A small seed of worry starts to bloom in my chest, but I try to push it aside.
Maybe they’re just caught up in their own festivities, caught up in the chaos of Christmas.
The worry morphs into bitterness because, if that’s the case, it means they’ve forgotten me.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I could, in theory, just call Eve myself, but something makes me hesitate. I feel like an outsider in my own family and that I’d be intruding if I called now.
The cake serves as a timely distraction from the increasingly depressive train of thought I’m heading towards.
I take my time tidying up after myself and getting some of the dishes Hoxton and I will be having for our small, cobbled-together Christmas dinner.
By the time I’m sliding the cake out of the oven and setting it to cool, I haven’t thought about Eve and the rest of family for about an hour.
Unfortunately, leaving it to cool before I ice it leaves plenty of time for my thoughts to wander. I pull out my phone again and grimace at the lack of notifications flashing across my screen.
I hit ‘call’ on Eve’s contact card, but she doesn’t answer. Same goes for my mother, my cousin Jean, Gran, and even Nathan. Every single call goes straight to answerphone.
For my sanity, I set my phone aside and focus on finishing Alex’s birthday cake. The sweet vanilla scent fills the kitchen as I spread a smooth layer of icing over the top and a sense of warmth and happiness washes over me.
This was definitely not the Christmas I had in mind for this year, but I don’t hate it.
Just as I’m put the finishing touches on the cake, I hear footsteps approaching from behind. I whirl around to see Alex standing in the doorway, a look of pure relief flooding his features.
‘I thought you’d left,’ he says, shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn. His gaze lands on the cake and his eyes widen in silent question.
I laugh as he comes to a halt in front of me, and reach up to pull him down for a quick kiss. It’s funny how natural it feels to reach for him like this now. ‘I never would’ve left without saying goodbye.’
‘But you wanted to leave?’ Alex asks quietly.
‘No,’ I say, without even having to think.
The response clearly surprises Alex, and it surprises me too.
‘I thought I would want to. That I’d want to get out of here and get over to Gran’s as soon as I could, but I meant what I said last night.
’ I reach out for another kiss and he happily obliges.
‘I told you I wanted to be here, and I meant it.’
He hums against my lips, his hands snaking down towards the small of my back to pull me in close. ‘I wouldn’t have minded—’
‘Yes, you would,’ I say. ‘You wouldn’t admit it to yourself or to anyone else, but you would have. And I would have just joined the long line of people who prioritised Christmas over you.’
His eyes crinkle slightly in the corners. ‘Noelle—’
‘And I’m not going to be that person.’ I pull apart from him, eliciting a tiny whimper, and gesture to the small cake on the counter. ‘Happy Birthday!’
He grins, his eyes sparkling with genuine surprise and delight. ‘You made this for me?’ he asks.
I nod, watching as his gaze flits from the cake to me and back again. His smile grows wider before he leans in to press another quick kiss to my lips. ‘Thank you, Noelle. You really didn’t have to do this.’
I shrug nonchalantly. ‘This is just the warm-up. Next year, now I’ve got a bit more notice, I’m going all out.’
‘Next year…’ Alex says quietly. He pulls me in closer again, holding me tight like he doesn’t ever want to let go.
He opens his mouth to say something else, but the gates to his drive suddenly swing open and we both watch as a mini-parade of sleek black cars park up just outside. ‘Oh. They’re early.’
‘What’s happening?’ I ask, breaking free of Alex’s grip to peer out of the window.
There are six identical cars in the drive, and I can spy several more parking up on the street outside Alex’s house.
‘Are you getting raided by MI5 or something? Is this where I find out that you’ve been evading taxes for the last decade and the government have finally had enough? ’
Alex laughs and comes to stand behind me, his arms bracketing me in as we watch the scene outside unfold. ‘That,’ he points to the fleet of cars outside, ‘would be your Christmas gift.’
My heart stops, starts, and then stops again as one of the car doors opens up and I watch as my sister tumbles out of it, followed by my parents. From another car, Gran steps out, helped by Uncle Morris, and from the rest I watch as various aunts, uncles, and cousins all spill out.
A million questions are rushing through my mind: How is this possible? Did they drive through the night? Where the hell have all these cars come from? And… God, do we have enough food for everyone?
I swivel around in Hoxton’s arms, my heart in my throat, my eyes bleary with the sudden onslaught of tears. ‘What—’ is all I manage to croak out before he interrupts.
‘I’m glad you didn’t leave earlier. For multiple reasons, but primarily because you would’ve ruined your surprise.
’ Then, he lifts my chin with a finger and presses a soft kiss against my lips and says three words I never thought I’d hear coming out of Alexander Hoxton’s mouth. ‘Merry Christmas, Noelle.’