Epilogue
One Year Later
Dan set the turkey on the table that was already heaving under a mountain of potatoes, vegetables, gravy and sauces.
He wore an apron with robins on it and a red bobble hat – the present Amy had chosen for him.
He had put it on that morning and apparently had no intention of removing it, even when roasting a huge turkey in a kitchen that had reached tropical temperatures.
They all gasped in appreciation of the food, and Julia kissed his pink cheek.
Jen had helped Julia and their mum set the table earlier, complete with a festive cloth and napkins, while the cat had curled itself around her legs, purring loudly.
She’d even brought the Christmas candleholder centrepiece of pine cones and holly.
Apparently her aversion to the season was well and truly in the past.
‘Daddy is actually the best cook,’ Amy said, her eyes wide as she glanced around at them.
‘No one’s going to argue with that,’ Ted said, smiling. Under the table, he stroked Jen’s hand, the callouses from his renewed guitar playing rough against her skin.
That morning, as they’d opened presents under their tree, she’d presented him with a new guitar, and he’d played her the song he was working on. Just like old times. Only better.
They pulled crackers and ate and chatted.
Georgie, now with a full head of hair – auburn, like his mum’s – pulled his hat right over his head and wore it like a necklace, giggling uncontrollably.
Amy told them in breathless wonder of how Father Christmas had eaten the mince pie they’d left him, and drunk the milk, and the reindeer had eaten the carrots.
Jen listened and smiled, basking in the magical joy of children at Christmas time.
When they’d finished eating, they would unwrap the presents that still sat under the tree.
She couldn’t wait to see them open her gifts: an art set and sketchbook for Julia – she had a little more time for herself, now Georgie was a bit older.
A cookbook for Dan and earrings for her mum.
But it was the children she was most excited to see.
She’d chosen a Lego farm set for Amy and a little wooden kitchen for George – all signs indicated that he was taking after his dad. And that could only be a good thing.
This year, she and Ted had been there for everything – the nativity service, the carol singing, the tree decorating and the school play, though in her capacity as teacher rather than auntie.
She’d taken over when Miss Bell had gone on maternity leave, and was delighted when the role had become permanent.
It was everything she’d dreamed of, and she loved planning and preparing activities, watching the children grow in confidence under her care.
And she still had time to run the monthly craft sessions at Marnie’s café, of course, so she felt like she knew every child in Babblebrook one way or another.
She remembered the mixture of excitement and nerves she’d felt on her first day at the school as though it was yesterday.
Anticipation had fizzed through her as the children began to trickle into the classroom, chattering as they hung up their coats and put their bags in the box and sat on the carpet in front of her, their little faces all turned to her expectantly.
‘Hello everyone,’ she had said. ‘For those of you who don’t know, I’m your new teacher. I’m Miss Ward.’
Lottie, sitting cross-legged with the rest of the class, had smirked. ‘No, her’s not. Her’s my Train Lady.’
Amy glared. ‘She’s not your Train Lady,’ she’d said. ‘She’s my auntie Jen. Actually.’
Now, at the end of the first term of a new school year, Amy and Lottie had moved on to another teacher, and Jen had a class of different children.
She was just as fond of them, and had taken pride in getting to know them and building their confidence.
But the time when she’d taught her own niece would always have a special place in her heart.
Amy, her cheeks bulging with sprouts, clambered down from her seat and tiptoed round the table, her big eyes on her mum. This wasn’t the kind of behaviour that would usually be tolerated, but on Christmas Day, exceptions were made.
She clambered onto Jen’s knee and leaned in against her, winding her gravy-streaked fingers into the chain of the cat necklace.
‘I miss you, I wish you still lived with us,’ she said, her face a picture of sorrow. ‘Will you always be living with Mr Piper now?’
Jen and Ted exchanged a glance. He smiled. ‘Always,’ he said softly.
Amy sighed. ‘But I’ll still see you lots, won’t I?’ she asked. ‘And you’ll still actually be my auntie. Won’t you?’
Jen wrapped her arms around the comforting warmth of her niece, breathing in her bubble bath and strawberry toothpaste smell.
‘Always,’ she said.