Chapter 17
‘Ah, so the tree is up!’ Lucien said, stepping into the hallway and handing over his coat.
‘Yeah, it still looks a bit sparse though. I’m going to try to get some more stuff up after the lesson.
’ She gestured to a pile of boxes that had arrived this morning, the result of an impromptu ordering session when she’d arrived home from the concert.
She’d buy some more local stuff as well, but she was on a mission and everyone was due to arrive in four days’ time. She was on the clock.
‘I thought you were keeping things simple?’ Lucien said.
‘Yes, but Mum… well, she loves Christmas. And she’s making such an effort coming.’
Lucien nodded.
‘If I’m honest, I’m kind of missing Mum’s… excesses. I didn’t think I would, but I do… And it’s so important to her.’
‘It is?’
‘Yeah, she never really had good Christmases as a child. I think she’s trying to make up for it.’
‘So now you need to go shopping, yes?’
‘Definitely.’
Ideally, she wanted to make a few ornaments of her own too – she’d bought some plain baubles and was hoping to paint Christmas scenes on them in time for the big day, but she’d by extra just in case.
‘I can help, if you like,’ he told her. ‘I have work to do, but it’s at my own pace. I blocked out the morning for the lesson, so…’
‘Oh. Thank you. It would actually be really helpful, if you’re sure?’
‘And you found a turkey?’
‘Oh! Yes. Well, sort of. Half a turkey.’
He looked confused. ‘I’ll explain later,’ she told him. ‘Let’s get this painting finished.’
The watercolour sketch was now looking more and more realistic. Today she hoped to show Lucien how to add pops of light to the tree, the house, the sky, the snow, to bring everything forward, make it appear more lifelike.
‘It’s looking great,’ she said as he added flecks of light green to some of the grass stems. ‘I’m sure Annabelle is going to love it.’
He nodded, his eyes on the painting. Then he turned to her, opening his mouth, closing it again. ‘I hope so,’ he said at last, shrugging his shoulders.
‘She’s hard to please?’
He laughed. ‘No. Just… she’s having a difficult time. You know? And it’s something I can’t help her with, not really. I suppose I just want the painting to be perfect, because…’
Nicola nodded. ‘Well, let’s make sure it is then.’
He gave her a smile, but there was sadness there.
And she thought about what he’d told her before, about how he found ways to help others in times like these.
She wanted to ask exactly what was up with Annabelle – was she depressed?
But their friendship was still too new for her to push – he’d tell her if he wanted to.
In the meantime, she could do her best to bring out his artistry and ensure he was happy with the painting he produced.
Luckily, the painting was well on the way to being beautiful. ‘Are you sure you’ve never painted before?’ she asked him as he delicately added a touch of blue to the windows, creating a suggestion of a reflected sky.
‘Not since school.’
‘You really should, you know.’
He looked at her. ‘I was thinking of asking to continue lessons after Christmas, if that’s OK with you?’
‘Definitely.’
He smiled. ‘Good. I find it very relaxing, losing myself in art.’
Nicola nodded. Ordinarily she did too, although she hadn’t painted much since arriving. She’d been too nervy, too jittery, too preoccupied with the business, her situation, keeping busy to stave off loneliness. It could be her new year’s resolution perhaps to get back to it in earnest.
Before she could say anything else, there was the sound of rustling. Both of them jumped, then looked at the tree, which was moving. ‘Oh Gabi!’ she cried, standing up and removing the kitten from one of the lower branches. ‘She’s obsessed with the tree,’ she told Lucien.
He laughed. ‘Perhaps she just loves Christmas!’
* * *
An hour later, the paints were packed away and Lucien was setting a ladder against the outside wall. ‘Are you sure it’s stable enough?’ she called to him from the base, feeling a bit guilty that she’d let him convince her he ought to be the one to climb up. They were her decorations after all.
‘Oui, bien s?r,’ he called down, his movement making the ladder sway slightly. He gripped the sides and grinned as they steadied it. ‘But perhaps I shouldn’t be leaning too much.’
He expertly inserted a small nail into the pointing between the stonework and hooked a section of lights over it.
Then, gradually, they moved the ladder and repeated the process again and again.
Back in the UK, Nicola had known a woman who paid a company to decorate the front of her house come Christmastime.
She’d always thought how extravagant that was.
Now she thought it was an eminently sensible thing to do.
‘It’s very generous of you,’ Lucien called down as he fixed the last nail. ‘To put decorations up outside the house too.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, you cannot really enjoy them fully. They give more joy to your neighbours, to passers-by.’
She laughed. ‘It does sound generous when you put it like that. But then you haven’t met my mother.’
‘Ah, these are for your mother.’
‘Seriously, if I don’t create a winter wonderland for her, then she probably won’t come!’ she joked. ‘I never thought about the fact her decorations probably brought other people joy. I suppose I just thought how it seemed to me.’
He laughed. ‘My mother puts a tree up and that is all. I think I might enjoy meeting your mother.’ He climbed back down the ladder and handed the last of the wire to her.
She drew it around the corner and secured the little solar receiver in the flower bed at the side of the house.
Hopefully there would be enough sunshine that come darkness, the house would burst into light.
Inside, she passed Lucien decorations as he stood on a chair reaching them to the top of the tree. She tried to choke back the image of Steven, how she’d hoped he’d be here helping her to make Christmas cheer by now, but how he seemed farther away than ever.
Perhaps when she was in full organisational flow, she’d understand more how difficult it was for her husband to answer his phone.
To drive the thoughts out of her head, she streamed a Christmas hits selection on her phone and soon the sound of ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ filled the air.
‘Ah, the perfect song!’ Lucien said.
‘Yep! Although maybe don’t rock too much while you’re standing on a chair?’
‘Oui, good idea.’
But the next song was ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ which, if anything, made her mind focus on her absent husband even more.
His shifts at the hospital had seemed to become more and more sporadic – longer, drawn out, due to short staffing or high demand.
Whenever she called, she’d leave a message, but he’d often reply with a voice note or text rather than ringing her directly.
She tried to remind herself how difficult it had been to have the kind of job that tied her to set hours, where a boss was looking over your shoulder whenever you did anything personal.
She’d only left her own position in the summer, yet that kind of life seemed so far away.
That said, what she was doing now wasn’t exactly working. One art student, another in the diary. In the new year, she’d have to start organising her art retreats in earnest now that she’d laid the groundwork, got the website up and running, and bought bedding and curtains for the upstairs rooms…
‘Is that not OK?’ She realised Lucien was looking at her, his usually smooth brow furrowed. ‘I think it looks nice on that branch.’
Noticing he had just attached one of the wooden reindeer decorations to one of the uppermost branches, she shook her head. ‘Yes, sorry, I was miles away.’
‘You are missing your husband?’
‘Yeah, kind of. If I’m honest, I’m angry with him too, though.’
‘Angry?’ Lucien climbed down from the chair and moved it to the other side of the tree.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I…’ she began, but he was back on the chair before she could finish her sentence, so instead she grabbed another item for him to attach: a small pottery Father Christmas on a red ribbon she’d picked up from Saint-Léonard.
‘Yes, angry,’ she said. ‘I’m not proud of it.
I have no right to be angry. But you can’t always help your emotions, can you? ’
Lucien nodded. ‘Yes, that’s true.’
The unmistakable sound of Wham! began to make its way out of her tiny portable speaker and their eyes immediately locked. ‘Skip?’ she asked him.
‘Please.’ He nodded. She wanted to ask him what he had against George, but held back the question. It could be embarrassing – something to do with a past love. He’d tell her if he wanted to.
‘I’m just so annoyed that he’s not here; I feel abandoned every time everything goes wrong and I realise how much easier it would be if I had a partner, someone here.
Even if they were in just as much of a mess as I was.
Yes, my parents are coming, but you know…
He’s my husband. I know he couldn’t help it but that somehow makes it worse. ’
‘It does?’
‘Yes, because I’m angry at him, and I have to feel guilty about it too! At least if he had done something wrong I could be properly annoyed, have an argument about it. As it is, he’s doing the “right thing” and I’m stuck here like a whiny child moaning that Santa isn’t going to come this year.’
‘Your husband is Santa?’ Lucien raised an eyebrow, grinned widely.
She laughed. ‘No, although I am identifying more with being Mrs Claus than I ever thought I would. You know, husband disappears at Christmas to do something wonderful for children. I bet she gets angry too sometimes.’
‘You are hilarious,’ Lucien said, chuckling. ‘You know, I find it hard to laugh sometimes now with everything that is happening at home. But I always laugh with you. Thank you. I need to laugh.’
She nodded. ‘Well, thank you too in that case.’
‘And I understand how you feel,’ he said, leaping down from the chair then shifting it up a little. ‘I sometimes get angry too, with Annabelle.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, of course I am never angry towards her. But inside, sometimes, I feel so frustrated at… well, things are difficult right now. It makes me angry because I cannot help. And these feelings, they bubble up out of nowhere, I can’t stop them.’
‘And then you feel worse, right?’
Lucien nodded. ‘I am a monster.’
‘Well, then, we’re both monsters,’ she told him with a shrug. ‘But I love Steven, and you love Annabelle, right? We can’t be all that bad.’
‘This is true.’ Lucien sighed. ‘It is nice that you understand.’
They stood back from the tree, looking at the assembled ornaments, each one carefully chosen, each one carefully placed. And she felt that sense again that Christmas magic was going to visit her this year after all.
She wrapped her arm around Lucien’s back. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything.’
He pulled her in for a hug. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I mean that.’
They were drinking a celebratory coffee and nibbling on some pain d’épices in front of the fire when the snow started to fall again. ‘I hope it doesn’t get too bad, my parents will be setting off in a day or so.’
‘It will be fine. And Matthieu will be delighted.’
‘Where is he? At home?’
‘No, he goes to a crèche a few days a week. His mother—she cannot look after him alone right now.’
They sat back again, the mention of Annabelle hanging in the air.
‘Can I ask you something?’ she said at last, unable to contain herself.
‘Sure.’ He smiled, sipped his coffee, looked at the fire.
‘Why Wham!?’
‘What?’ He turned to her, genuinely confused.
She grinned. ‘Why do you hate “Last Christmas”?’
He looked momentarily stunned, then he suddenly stood. ‘Ah, merde. I have to be somewhere.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, I forgot something. Thanks for the coffee and the lesson.’
‘Thanks for helping—’ But he was already at the door.
He opened the latch then turned briefly to her, his face thoughtful, pondering. ‘It is stupid, the song thing,’ he told her. ‘It just reminds me of something. I try not to think about it, but the song…’ He shook his head. ‘I understand you must think it strange.’
Before she could reply, he slipped out of the door and closed it gently behind him. Moments later, she heard the sound of his car starting, and then he was gone.