Chapter 10
On Saturday morning, Maisie and Rory tumble out of Nancy’s car with the exuberance of Golden Retriever puppies, and their energy is enough to make anyone feel exhausted already.
‘Uncle Ollie!’ They fill the driveway with delighted shrieks as they hurl themselves at Ollie, who matches their shrieks gleefully, crouches down to greet them and then stands upright with both of them wriggling in his arms.
‘Auntie Lula!’ Maisie escapes his grip and comes over to throw her arms around me with unexpected force.
‘You’re supposed to call them Mum and Dad soon,’ Rory tells her as Ollie puts him down and he comes over and holds out a hand for me to shake. ‘Two pretend children reporting for duty, ma’am.’
I can’t help laughing at his seriousness as I shake his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you both.’
When I’ve untangled Maisie from my legs, I crouch down to say a proper hello. ‘And you should probably call me…’
I glance up at Ollie for verification on what exactly they’re supposed to be calling me.
‘Auntie Lula,’ Rory confirms for me. ‘We’re not stupid – we’re not going to forget over Christmas but it’s too early for “Mum and Dad” yet.’
‘Fine by me.’ Ollie shrugs, making his grey cable-knit jumper tighten across his chest in all the right ways.
‘Granny and Grandpa say we’re supposed to get to know you so we don’t look like we’ve never met before at Christmas.’
‘Well, that is very good advice, Master Rory.’
Rory laughs and Maisie giggles. ‘I like your hair, can I practise French braiding on you?’
Nancy follows them up the driveway, carrying a bag each for them. ‘Are you two sure about this? All day and all night as well?’
‘Nothing we can’t handle. These wee monkeys are going to be no trouble at all, right?’ Ollie tugs on one of Maisie’s plaited bunches.
‘Trouble? Us?’ Rory says in the most well-practised innocent voice I’ve ever heard.
It’s probably the scariest two words ever uttered. My eyes meet Ollie’s, and he gives me a look of trepidation that’s probably only half-joking at best.
‘You can call me or Hamish anytime.’ Nancy glances between us. ‘If you two can handle this as a couple, you’ll have no trouble with a few uptight bosses and an arrogant colleague over Christmas.’
I’m not sure it’s quite the vote of confidence I was hoping for, but I stand next to Ollie and watch as the kids give their grandma a hug goodbye and he nudges his arm into my shoulder and gives me a ‘we’ve got this’ smile.
‘This is going to be soooo much fun!’ Maisie bounces up, back down, and then back up the steps while we wave as Nancy drives away, and for not the first time, I wonder where she gets her energy from and what I’ve got myself into.
Suddenly bear-hungry Santas on Oxford Street seem like small fry in comparison to being a pretend mum to someone else’s kids, and I can’t help wondering what Patricia Calloway would think if she could see me now.
Rory fist-bumps the giant nutcracker standing guard by the main door, and Ollie lifts Maisie up so she can plant a kiss on its rosy wooden cheek, and I love the ease between them, reassured that they obviously feel at home with him.
‘Granny says we’ve got our own rooms now, can we see?’ Rory is already inside the foyer.
‘Did Uncle Ollie tell you he’s getting me a pony?’ Maisie takes my hand and drags me inside too. ‘And a stable for the pony to sleep in, and hay for the pony to eat, and a field for the pony to play in, and riding lessons!’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a Lamborghini instead? At this point, it sounds cheaper,’ Ollie asks, making me cackle when she very seriously tells him not to be so silly because she’s too young to drive.
The entrance hall has become my storage space and as soon as the kids see all my boxes and bags of decorations, their bedrooms are forgotten while they’re in to everything, opening boxes and pulling bags apart with reckless abandon.
‘Can we help with decorating? Why are those garlands so boring? Why is there a loo roll in a Christmas tree stand? Where are all these lights going? A Christmas village! Can I set it out?’ Within moments, Maisie has twisted one of my red ribbon bows for the garlands into her hair, and Rory is wearing a string of acrylic snowflakes like a scarf.
Ollie distracts them by asking if anyone wants hot chocolate, which we all do, and only some of us wish it was something much stronger.
The idea of painting terracotta pots for the poinsettias goes down well. Ollie covers the kitchen table with a washable tablecloth and I set out the art and craft supplies I bought in Campbeltown, and Ollie and I sit on one side of the table while Maisie and Rory sit opposite us.
‘You two look like you’re allergic to each other,’ Rory declares. ‘You’re gonna need sooo much help to pull this off!’
Ollie and I glance at each other and he raises one of his dark eyebrows. Until this point, we both thought we were doing all right so far.
‘Have you got your story straight?’ Rory asks, while Maisie sploshes her brush into the paint and starts covering the plant pot, and unintentionally covers her apron, her arms, hands, and hair in pink paint too.
‘What story?’
‘Your lurve story, of course! How did you two meet?’
‘Well, we…’ I look over at Ollie again, feeling thoroughly schooled by a ten-year-old. ‘Have you ever told anyone at work how you met your wife?’
He shakes his head slowly. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then it needs to be simple. Believable. No film-worthy meet-cute moments of lattes spilled on white shirts or accidentally picking up each other’s luggage at an airport. Could we have been childhood sweethearts?’
‘Auntie Lula, you’re not from here, that would never work.’ Maisie sounds like she wishes she had a blackboard and a stick of chalk so she could draw a diagram for us like a proper teacher.
‘Work backwards.’ Rory taps his brush on the table like we’re not paying attention. ‘How long are you supposed to have known each other?’
‘We’ve been married for five years,’ Ollie says. ‘I’ve never gone into anything beyond that.’
‘And I’m ten, so you must’ve been together for at least ten years, more like thirteen to fifteen because no one has babies within minutes of knowing each other.’
I glance at Ollie and see he’s biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing at Rory’s seriousness.
‘What were you both doing thirteen to fifteen years ago?’
‘I was an accountant for a light fittings firm in Glasgow.’
‘And I was working freelance as a visual merchandiser in Ipswich. Mostly local, but some businesses were further afield and I commuted into bigger cities.’
‘Could the products your firm sold have brought you into contact with the shops she worked in?’
‘I could’ve phoned with a stock enquiry and fallen in love with the voice on the other end of the phone…’
Rory makes vomiting noises to let me know how much he approves of my suggestion. ‘No one falls in love over the phone!’
‘Have you heard him speak? That’s a voice anyone would fall in love with!’
Judging by how much Ollie’s blushing, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.
‘Or you could say you met online,’ Maisie suggests before we have a chance to make any more terrible suggestions. ‘On a sanctuary for stray dogs! Or raising money for injured horses!’
‘Well, we did meet online, technically, so maybe not straying too far from the truth isn’t the worst idea.’ Ollie twirls his brush between his fingers. ‘What do we have in common that could’ve brought us together? We both like castles. Christmas food…’
‘Snuggly hoodies. Books…’
‘How about a book group?’ Ollie suggests. ‘I could’ve asked for a Christmas read recommendation, and then you suggested one, and I read it and messaged you to say I’d enjoyed it, and we got chatting from there…’
‘What book?’ Rory demands. ‘And this is very dodgy territory. Meeting strangers from the internet is a recipe for disaster.’
It’s probably bad form to laugh at kids, but it’s impossible not to laugh at the gravitas Rory’s giving this, even though he’s got a point on both fronts.
‘You’re right, Ror, although it does seem to have worked out for us on this occasion.’ Ollie’s laughing too as he meets my eyes and gives me a wink.
‘Awwwwww!’ Maisie clasps her pink-painted hands together.
‘How about A Christmas Carol? I’d only seen the Muppets version and Lu recommended I read the original book?’
‘And from there, we grew a friendship of talking classic literature and favourite film adaptations and when Ollie invited me to see his spectacular castle library, I was a goner. Head over heels, and not just because of the library.’
He leans back in his chair, beaming at me as he holds his hand out for a high-five, but he’s painting his pot reindeer-brown and I’m going red, and when I touch my hand to his, our colours of paint merge in an unholy mess, and his fingers curl around mine for an all-too-brief moment.
‘Does that meet your approval, Master Rory?’ Ollie lets go and sits forwards again.
‘Hmm. It’ll take some work, but at least it’s organic and there’s some truth in it.’
I love this kid. Organic. How does a ten-year-old even know the word in this context? ‘Thank you for how seriously you’re taking this.’
Rory clicks his tongue. ‘You’d get nowhere without us. Honestly, this effort is an embarrassment.’
Ollie nearly chokes as he tries to stop himself laughing again, but it’s no good, and neither of us can prevent it bursting out.
‘It’s all well and good finding it funny, but you’re the ones who are going to look stupid when you don’t know this stuff!’ Rory barks, looking fed up of having to deal with us naughty children. ‘Have you even kissed yet?’
‘We’re not going to kiss, it’s just pretend,’ Ollie assures him, but his eyes flick to me and focus briefly on my lips. He looks away again so quickly that I wonder if I imagined it.
‘What if there’s mistletoe?’
‘Lu’s in charge of decorating and she’s going to make sure there’s no mistletoe. Mistletoe doesn’t just come up and ambush people in the street, you know. If we don’t put it up, it won’t be there.’