Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tamara didn’t usually find it hard to control her emotions in public, but tonight was a different story.
She blamed the film of tears glazing her eyes, and her inability to speak, let alone join in ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’, on a whole host of things.
Gage’s strong, warm hand wrapped around hers, the twinkling strings of Christmas lights illuminating the ancient granite church, the wheezing of the old organ and being surrounded by so many of her dearest friends.
They all combined to affect her in a totally unexpected way.
She tried focusing on the colourful Victorian stained-glass windows behind the altar.
But that didn’t help because it brought her back to a long-ago Christmas Eve when her mother had patiently explained the bible stories behind the designs to Tamara, while her dad had fed Tracy sweets to keep her imp of a sister quiet.
If she started thinking about Tracy too much now, she really would start crying.
Early this afternoon she’d ignored the nine-hour time difference with Australia and phoned her sister, hoping against hope that she hadn’t gone to bed already.
After they’d exchanged the usual Christmas greetings, Tamara had blurted out how worried she’d been and begged Tracy to say if she’d done anything to upset her.
Tracy had burst into tears and confessed that she’d been so dreadfully homesick that talking to Tamara made her worse.
Although it tore her to hear Tracy so unhappy, at least she knew the truth now.
Gage had been wonderfully supportive and they were trying to work out how to afford a trip to Australia in the not-too-distant future.
‘I’m really glad we came.’ Gage snaked his arm around her shoulder. ‘I’d forgotten.’
‘Me too.’ She snuggled into him and savoured the brush of his hair against her skin. How different her life was to a year ago, when it hadn’t bothered her to work until closing time in the pub because there was nothing and nobody to rush home for.
The church clock struck midnight as they sang the traditional final carol, ‘Silent Night’. To avoid lingering outside in the miserable weather, everyone started milling around to swap Christmas greetings.
‘Come and meet my dad properly.’
Tamara choked up again. Talk about the true power of forgiveness. It was nothing short of a miracle that he could speak fondly of the father who’d turned his back on his son for all those years.
It amused her to hear Becky chide her children and warn them not to be rude and run off. Despite the fact they were all teenagers, all four did as they were told.
‘Dad, this is Tamara.’
‘Of course it is.’
Wally Harris’s brilliant smile bore such an uncanny resemblance to Gage’s, she was momentarily taken aback.
‘You were a young girl last time I saw you. You’ve grown into a right bonny lass. I was sorry to hear about your mum and dad. They were good people.’
‘They certainly were and I miss them every day.’
‘You’ve taken on a big job keeping this one in line.’ He gave Gage a light punch on the shoulder.
‘He might say it’s the other way around.’
That made everyone laugh.
‘It’s good to see you again, Mr Harris, and I hope you’ll come back again soon.’ Tamara hoped it didn’t come across as a dig.
‘It’s Wally. None of this Mr Harris nonsense. And I’ll definitely be back. Can’t lose track of my boy again. The two of you should make a trip up to Scotland and see us. You’d be very welcome.’
‘Thanks. I’ve never been any further than London, and that was only one time on a school trip.’
‘Happy Christmas, lass, and we’ll see you both on Boxing Day before I head back north again.’
‘We’d better go.’ Becky interrupted them with a wry smile. ‘They’re getting restless.’ She nodded at her kids, who were all looking at their phones and exuding an air of boredom.
Outside it was all they could do to stay upright in the strong wind. They battled across the road and headed as quickly as they could to her house, where the very first order of business was getting rid of their wet shoes and coats.
‘I’m sorry I don’t have a Father Christmas costume.’ Gage’s husky voice was laced with innuendo. ‘But I did put something under the tree earlier that you could go ahead and open now.’
‘Would that be for my enjoyment or yours?’
The arch question made him chuckle. ‘Hopefully both.’
‘I was about to offer tea and warm mince pies, but I suppose they can wait.’
In the living room, she switched on the tree lights. He crouched to pick up a box and handed it over with a wicked grin. Tamara was about to rip off the wrapping paper when she studied it more closely.
‘Father Christmas pigs? Seriously?’ She opened the box and the first item she lifted out was a pink satin thong.
Next came a matching bra, but when Tamara opened it out she laughed so hard tears rolled down her face.
Gage’s eyes sparkled, lit like a little boy who’d pulled the most magnificent prank, because two tiny curls of pink silk hung from the nipple area to mimic pigs’ tails.
There was also a pair of pink silk ballet slippers with toes shaped like pigs’ feet.
‘There’s something else.’ He whipped out the last thing from the bottom of the box. A pink satin headband with a pink-and-white piggy ear fixed to each side. Gage stood in front of her and carefully slid it into place. ‘There we go.’
‘Do I even want to know where you found all this?’
‘Let’s just say the internet caters to every taste.’ Gage wrapped her in his arms. ‘I wish I could carry you—’
‘Don’t spoil it. We’ve had this out before, so put that nonsense to bed.’ She tried to look stern. ‘Which is where I want to be right now — with you. And if you don’t take me there soon, there’ll be no good tidings of comfort and joy in this house.’
‘I’ll shut up.’
Men who listened were worth their weight in gold. Happy Christmas to them.
* * *
Gage lifted a hank of Tamara’s hair to kiss the back of her neck.
After coming to bed late and christening the saucy pig lingerie, she was exhausted and fell straight asleep, but he only managed to doze off and on for what was left of the night.
It was still dark outside and a glance at the clock told him it wasn’t quite seven o’clock yet.
On the nightstand, her phone started buzzing and he was in two minds whether or not to silence it.
‘Who is it?’ Tamara’s voice was thick with sleep.
‘I’ll see.’ Gage leaned across and checked the screen. ‘Pixie. She can’t need more veg peeled because we did enough to feed an army. You want me to get it?’
‘Hand it over. I’ll see what she wants.’ Tamara yawned and pushed a bunch of tangled-up hair from her face. ‘Happy Christmas, what can we—’
Pixie broke in and sounded worried from the little he could catch.
‘We’ll throw some clothes on and be right down.’ She hung up.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Vernon rang a few minutes ago to tell her to get to The Rusty Anchor pronto. He’d popped into the shop to fetch a packet of stuffing mix for his wife and was locking up when he heard a loud noise coming from the pub.
He looked up and saw large parts of the roof caving in.
It wasn’t in good shape as you know, and all the rain and wind must’ve finished it off. ’
‘Hell. No one’s inside, right?’ Thankfully the flat over the pub had been standing empty for a while, ever since the last tenant moved out.
‘She isn’t sure.’ Tamara’s breath hitched. ‘But she can’t get hold of Rocky and is terrified he might’ve come in early to start cooking the turkeys.’
A picture of the puckish little chef’s face yesterday, excited about playing Father Christmas to his baby son, filled Gage’s brain. They silently dragged on clothes before taking turns in the bathroom.
This really wasn’t how Christmas Day was supposed to go. He’d planned to spoil Tamara with a lavish breakfast in bed before they went to help with the Spirit of Christmas preparations.
Luckily the wind and rain had died down and by the time they turned onto Church Street, people were starting to emerge from their homes, many wearing coats over their night clothes.
Pixie came out of nowhere and flung herself at Tamara. ‘Rocky’s in there. I’ve talked to him on the phone and he’s trapped under that heavy metal table we use for the prep work. The police and fire brigade are on the way and they’ve ordered us to stay out.’
‘They’ll be running a skeleton staff on Christmas Day, so it could be a while.’ Gage frowned. ‘You might want to call the doc if she’s home and get her down here. I’ll see if it’s possible to go in.’
‘Me too,’ Tamara said.
He knew that tone. Arguing would be pointless. Depending on the situation they found, they might need her strength and agility.
They skirted the crowd and picked their way around piles of roof shingles to reach the back of the building. Gage yelled at Rocky through the broken kitchen door.
‘About bloody time. Come and give us a hand, mate. The missus will wonder where I’ve got to. I promised I’d be home after I stuck the turkeys in the oven.’
‘Hang on a minute while we see what’s what.’ He pulled one of the broken boards away to make the hole larger. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Me right ankle isn’t too good and I’ve had a bit of a bash on the head. Apart from that I’m good. It’s a bugger, though, ‘cause I’m stuck under the table and the thing’s too bloody heavy to lift. If I had a few more muscles, it’d be useful.’
At least the young man’s sense of humour was still intact. ‘Don’t move. I’m coming in.’
‘You want me to try first?’ Tamara said.
‘I think I’ll be okay.’
The tendon around his bad knee protested when he bent his body in half to clamber in.
He stopped to assess the situation. The roof was almost completely gone, so the kitchen was covered with roof slates, insulation and broken rafters.
The thick dust filling the air made it hard to see.
In his mind he mapped out a path and started edging closer to Rocky.
He spotted the young chef’s head and could see his red hair was grey with dust.
‘We need to shift the table off you, but I’m not sure if we should try to move you out of here. Might be best to wait for the paramedics.’
‘Don’t be daft, mate.’
‘You could end up paralysed if we’re too hasty.’ He shouted back over his shoulder. ‘Tamara, we need you in here too. Sorry.’
In the old days, he could’ve lifted the stainless-steel table by himself.
‘No problem.’
A touch of envy sneaked in as she picked her way nimbly through the debris, but it was wiped away by admiration for this wonderful woman.
‘We need to lift the table off Rocky and put it over there.’ He pointed to the front wall and the shattered window.
They each grabbed one end and on a count of three, hefted the table into the air. Tamara took an unfair share of the weight, but Gage wasn’t in a position to argue. This was no place for pride.
‘Stay still, Rocky,’ he said firmly. ‘Answer a few questions for me first.’
It was clear Rocky knew who he was, where they were and what’d happened, so concussion shouldn’t be an issue.
Gage rattled off some standard questions about whether Rocky had any numbness or tingling in his limbs, any trouble breathing and if he could move his arms and legs.
All the answers were negative, and the chef’s only real pain came from the ankle that had caught the brunt of his fall.
‘What do you think?’ Tamara asked.
‘He’s probably fine but—’
With an ominous groan, another rafter crashed inches away from Gage.
‘We need to get out of here now,’ he said decisively.
‘I need a hand up.’ Rocky sounded worried now.
‘I’ll get you.’ Tamara reached across and stuck her hands under the chef’s armpits before heaving him out. ‘I’ll carry him.’ She threw them both a firm look. ‘No offence, Rocky, but you’re hardly a muscle-bound hunk. I’ve single-handedly carried boats that are heavier than you.’
As if the chef weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, she hauled him up in her arms and left Gage to follow behind.
‘Couldn’t you at least let me have a quiet Christmas Day without any patients?
’ Judy’s cheerful voice and wide smile were a welcome sight when they reached the door.
‘Next time you can call the emergency GP service. Joke! If you could put Rocky down, I’ll take a look at him.
’ She gestured to an old wooden chair Gage recognised from Vernon’s shop.
Tamara did the honours.
‘Mum! Are you hurt?’ Toby ran towards them, his eyes bulging with panic.
Tamara said firmly. ‘I’m fine, Toby, honestly.
’ She reached for her son with one hand, and Gage with the other.
‘We’re going to leave Rocky in Judy’s tender care and get on with Christmas.
Toby, love, you should head back home to sleep because I know you’ve only just got off work.
We’ll put our brains together and see how to still pull off the Spirit of Christmas meal. ’
Gage wasn’t daft enough to tell her that was ridiculous.
If she could wave a magic wand over a crusty ex-serviceman like him and transform his life, rustling up a festive meal for thirty people from the wreckage of the pub should be child’s play.
He met her gaze and nodded. His way of saying he was all in.
‘Sleep’s overrated,’ Toby said with a shrug. ‘I’ll text Chloe and get her down here too. She’ll want in on this.’ He angled a faint smile at Gage. ‘My partner is like yours. Stubborn. Hates to miss out on anything.’
Gage seized the olive branch and grinned back. Maybe Tamara was right and they could pull off a Christmas miracle.