Chapter 10 #3
I can’t help noticing that he doesn’t deny it.
‘Granny always says he’s handsome,’ Maisie says to me. ‘Do you think he’s handsome, Auntie Lula?’
‘I think he’s a lot more than just handsome.
Handsome undervalues what it is that makes someone attractive.
It’s not just about physical looks.’ My face is burning again even though it’s not unreasonable to admit that a handsome man is very nice-looking.
‘But yes, I think he’s handsome, especially when he blushes like that. ’
I go to reach over and poke his red face, but he catches my hand and curls his fingers around mine and gives them another squeeze.
‘And she says it’s a mystery why he hasn’t got a girlfriend. Why can’t you be his real girlfriend, Auntie Lula?’
Ollie groans and lets go of my hand. ‘Someone’s going to have to have a word with your grandparents about what they can say in front of you. And it’s not like that between us. Lu is decorating for me and then she’s going home.’
‘Is he getting you a pony too?’
‘No, but I think I might ask for one.’ I laugh again as Ollie clonks his head down on the table.
‘Stop distracting them, Mais!’ Rory goes back to his imaginary cue cards. ‘What’s Uncle Ollie’s favourite thing about Christmas?’
‘The movies?’ I say uncertainly.
‘I haven’t bothered with Christmas lately.
You guys know I’m always away with work, so Christmas is just an excuse to talk about business in a different setting.
’ Ollie looks between all three of us. ‘I guess this year, it’s spending time with my pretend family.
Seeing the castle decorated, and being home for the first time in a long while.
Remembering what Christmas used to feel like. ’
I can hear something hidden in those words. His face doesn’t give anything away, and I get the same sense that the castle feeling like home is something he needs, and it’s not entirely to do with the promotion.
‘You know what that means, right?’ I catch Ollie’s eyes again and then whisper across the table conspiratorially to the kids. ‘We’re going to have to make this the best Christmas ever. Not just for his work colleagues, but for Uncle Ollie too. I think he deserves that, don’t you?’
‘Only if he gets us both a pony!’
I can’t bring myself to tell her that when it comes to my rented single room in London, ponies are really far down the list of things I need.
* * *
By 6 p.m., my hair has been plaited in approximately twenty-six different directions and covered in sparkly butterfly clips and Ollie’s has been gathered up into the smallest ponytail on the top of his head and tied with a pink scrunchie, and neither of us have the heart to take them out.
We’ve both got glitter in places we didn’t know existed and paint all over us.
We’ve made salt dough ornaments, painted enough terracotta pots that no poinsettia will ever be potless again, and made bookmarks out of cardboard and wrapping paper.
The Christmas village has been set out on the sideboard in the entrance hall by Maisie.
The bookshop is on its head, the florist lives in the duck pond now, and the tiny ceramic 1800s villagers access their shops via Barbie’s horse and pink plastic car, and although I should probably fix it later, at least it goes some way towards making it look like kids live in the castle.
And now the kids are changing into their festive onesies and Ollie’s given them free rein to raid the kitchen for snacks befitting a pretend-family movie night.
‘You two should sit together!’ Maisie bursts into the living room carrying a bowl that she’s emptied at least seventeen packets of crisps into.
‘Why?’
‘Because Mummy and Daddy always sit together and you’re acting like you barely know each other.’
‘We do barely know each other,’ I say, even though I feel like we’ve got to know each other surprisingly well over the past week.
Rory tuts as he comes in with a bowl of popcorn. ‘Honestly, you’d never pull this off without our help.’
‘What are we watching?’ Ollie asks to distract them as he sits in his usual corner of the sofa and puts his jingle-bell-sock-wearing feet up on the coffee table.
‘The Santa Clause!’ they bellow in unison and pile onto the sofa next to him. I sit down in the other corner with the kids between us, and I feel that warm glow of a pretend family as Rory finds the film and Maisie doles out crisps whether we want them or not.
I stretch my arm out along the back of the sofa and notice Ollie do the same, and when he realises how close our fingers are, he reaches a little bit further until our fingertips brush against each other’s.
When I look over in surprise, he gives me a wink that sets off a wave of butterflies.
It’s a good thing I’ve seen the film multiple times because I struggle to concentrate on anything apart from the touch of his fingers against mine, and the little smiles he gives me every time our eyes meet.
I get the feeling that he isn’t concentrating on the TV tonight either.