glance at the window and the black night sky. ‘Sammy’s in the next room. Is it safe us being here?’
‘Yes ,’ says Marc. ‘I just don’t believe in taking any chances. Get into bed Sophia. Get some rest. I want you to enjoy tomorrow.’
‘Okay,’ I say, pulling off my shoes. But inside I feel uneasy. I know Marc would never do anything to put Sammy in danger. But why won’t he tell me what this is all about?
After Christmas. That’s what he said. Just enjoy Christmas. And trust that Marc has your best interests at heart.
29
When I wake up the next morning, I see Marc sitting bolt upright in the chair opposite.
He smil es as my eyes open.
‘Happy Christmas Sophia.’
I feel that stillness that always flows around on Christmas morning. The whole world feels quiet, and there’s magic in the air.
‘Happy Christmas Marc.’ I rub my eyes and sit up. ‘Did you sleep?’
‘A little. You did. Soundly. I love watching you sleep.’
I slide myself out of bed and go to sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around me. Marc being here is the best Christmas present ever.
‘ Where you in that chair all night?’
‘Yes .’
I kiss him fully on the lips. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ I whisper. ‘It’s kind of weird, though. Waking up to see you in my old home.’
‘Good weird?’
‘Good weird.’ I stretch my arms, stand up and pull him up out of the chair. ‘Come on. Let’s get cleaned up and then I can make breakfast.’
‘You don’t want to open your present?’ says Marc, going to the black bag in the corner.
‘Oh no Mr Blackwell.’ I shake a finger at him. ‘In our family, we don’t open our presents until after the Christmas dinner. That makes the day last just a little bit longer.’
Marc smiles. ‘It’s good to know that you can exercise that sort of patience.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me Mr Bl ackwell,’ I say, mimicking his words to me yesterday.
‘And a lot I can’t wait to find out. Well. If I have to wait until after Christmas dinner to give you your present, it’s lucky I have a few surprises lined up before then. Let’s go downstairs. There’s a surprise waiting for you there.’
*****
With Sammy and Dad still sleep, I creep downstairs, pulling Marc behind me.
‘Slow down Sophia,’ says Ma rc. ‘You’re going to fall down the stairs.’
‘I’m too excited to slow down, ’ I whisper back.
‘The surprise is in the lounge,’ says Marc, squeezing my fingers.
I pull Marc into the lounge area, and then stop dead, staring.
‘Oh, Marc .’
In the corner of the lounge is the most amazing Christmas tree, with gorgeous thick feathery fir branches. It looks like it’s been plucked straight out of the forests of Norway.
The branches hang with hand-painted wooden holly leaves and delicate baubles painted with 1950s Christmas scenes.
‘How did you do this?’ I breathe, taking a step forwards and feeling the thick green branches of the tree between my fingers.
‘While you were at the theatre . Hence my late arrival. The security team helped me decorate it.’
I give a little laugh at the idea of Marc and his team creeping around in the dead of night, hanging Christmas decorations.
‘I can’t believe you did all this,’ I say, still staring.
‘You like it?’ Marc asks.
‘I love it. And Sammy’s going to love it too.’
As if on cue, there’s a little choked cry from upstairs.
I smile at Marc. ‘I’ll go get Sammy up. And Dad. Then I’ll make us all breakfast.’
30
For Christmas breakfast, I make pancakes wit h winter cherries and flaming brandy sauce. I serve them with whipped cream and fresh coffee.
Dad is as surprised as I am by the tree, and I can tell he’s secretly happy. He loves Christmas almost as much as I do.
My dad is wary of Marc over breakfast, but the two of them manage a stilted conversation about the roads around the village, and their mutual love of cars. Dad isn’t being all that talkative, but
‘Yes ,’ says Marc. ‘I just don’t believe in taking any chances. Get into bed Sophia. Get some rest. I want you to enjoy tomorrow.’
‘Okay,’ I say, pulling off my shoes. But inside I feel uneasy. I know Marc would never do anything to put Sammy in danger. But why won’t he tell me what this is all about?
After Christmas. That’s what he said. Just enjoy Christmas. And trust that Marc has your best interests at heart.
29
When I wake up the next morning, I see Marc sitting bolt upright in the chair opposite.
He smil es as my eyes open.
‘Happy Christmas Sophia.’
I feel that stillness that always flows around on Christmas morning. The whole world feels quiet, and there’s magic in the air.
‘Happy Christmas Marc.’ I rub my eyes and sit up. ‘Did you sleep?’
‘A little. You did. Soundly. I love watching you sleep.’
I slide myself out of bed and go to sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around me. Marc being here is the best Christmas present ever.
‘ Where you in that chair all night?’
‘Yes .’
I kiss him fully on the lips. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ I whisper. ‘It’s kind of weird, though. Waking up to see you in my old home.’
‘Good weird?’
‘Good weird.’ I stretch my arms, stand up and pull him up out of the chair. ‘Come on. Let’s get cleaned up and then I can make breakfast.’
‘You don’t want to open your present?’ says Marc, going to the black bag in the corner.
‘Oh no Mr Blackwell.’ I shake a finger at him. ‘In our family, we don’t open our presents until after the Christmas dinner. That makes the day last just a little bit longer.’
Marc smiles. ‘It’s good to know that you can exercise that sort of patience.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me Mr Bl ackwell,’ I say, mimicking his words to me yesterday.
‘And a lot I can’t wait to find out. Well. If I have to wait until after Christmas dinner to give you your present, it’s lucky I have a few surprises lined up before then. Let’s go downstairs. There’s a surprise waiting for you there.’
*****
With Sammy and Dad still sleep, I creep downstairs, pulling Marc behind me.
‘Slow down Sophia,’ says Ma rc. ‘You’re going to fall down the stairs.’
‘I’m too excited to slow down, ’ I whisper back.
‘The surprise is in the lounge,’ says Marc, squeezing my fingers.
I pull Marc into the lounge area, and then stop dead, staring.
‘Oh, Marc .’
In the corner of the lounge is the most amazing Christmas tree, with gorgeous thick feathery fir branches. It looks like it’s been plucked straight out of the forests of Norway.
The branches hang with hand-painted wooden holly leaves and delicate baubles painted with 1950s Christmas scenes.
‘How did you do this?’ I breathe, taking a step forwards and feeling the thick green branches of the tree between my fingers.
‘While you were at the theatre . Hence my late arrival. The security team helped me decorate it.’
I give a little laugh at the idea of Marc and his team creeping around in the dead of night, hanging Christmas decorations.
‘I can’t believe you did all this,’ I say, still staring.
‘You like it?’ Marc asks.
‘I love it. And Sammy’s going to love it too.’
As if on cue, there’s a little choked cry from upstairs.
I smile at Marc. ‘I’ll go get Sammy up. And Dad. Then I’ll make us all breakfast.’
30
For Christmas breakfast, I make pancakes wit h winter cherries and flaming brandy sauce. I serve them with whipped cream and fresh coffee.
Dad is as surprised as I am by the tree, and I can tell he’s secretly happy. He loves Christmas almost as much as I do.
My dad is wary of Marc over breakfast, but the two of them manage a stilted conversation about the roads around the village, and their mutual love of cars. Dad isn’t being all that talkative, but
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