A Little Christmas Magic

‘I’ve left lots of meals in the freezer and there’s a modern oven as well as the big stove, if you need it. The children get a hot lunch at school so you’ll only have to cope with breakfast for most of the time.’

‘Did the turkey for Christmas arrive?’ Adam asked.

‘Aye. It’s in the freezer as well. Don’t forget to take it out at least a couple of days early. Leave it in the big tub out in the dairy to thaw.’

‘I don’t like stew,’ Oliver announced a few minutes later. ‘It’s got carrots in it.’

‘Carrots are good for you,’ Emma offered. ‘They help you see in the dark.’

‘I don’t need to see in the dark,’ Oliver said with exaggerated patience. ‘I’m asleep.’

‘If you don’t eat your carrots,’ Adam said calmly, ‘there’ll be no ice cream.’

‘I don’t like ice cream.’

‘I do,’ Poppy sighed. ‘I love ice cream.’

‘Me, too,’ Emma said. She beamed at Poppy. Impossible not to fall in love with a child who was so prepared to love everything life had to offer. Poppy beamed back. Shifting her gaze back to her plate, Emma caught Adam staring at her but he quickly shifted his attention back to his son.

‘No television before bed, then,’ he said. ‘Vegetables are important.’

Catherine stood up to start clearing plates. ‘Can I leave you to do the children’s pudding?’ she asked Adam. ‘I’ll need to head away soon and I’d like to give Emma a tour of the house and show her where her room is.’

‘But Emma loves ice cream, too.’ The horrified look on Poppy’s face at the prospect of such an unwarranted punishment for someone stole another piece of Emma’s heart. Oliver might prove to be more of a challenge but she knew that she was going to love her time with Poppy.

‘I’ll come back,’ Emma promised. ‘Save me some, okay?’ She looked at Oliver, who was scowling down at his plate—the only one still on the table. He was pushing slices of carrot around with his fork. ‘And by then,’ she added casually, ‘you’ll have scoffed those carrots, Ollie, and I’ll be able to show you my guitar.’

A lightning-fast glance back as she left the kitchen revealed a fork laden with carrot slices making its way towards Oliver’s mouth and Emma hid a smile. Maybe the little boy wouldn’t be too much of a challenge after all.

The tour of the house was a whirlwind and it wasn’t just the speed of viewing the more formal rooms, like the lounge and library downstairs or the rapid climb to the upper level that had taken Emma’s breath away.

‘How old is the house?’

‘The main part dates back to the seventeenth century but there’s been a lot of additions and renovations, and thank goodness for that. I’d hate to be offering you a room that didn’t have an en suite bathroom.’ Down the end of a wide hallway that had dozens of framed photographs displayed, Catherine opened one of the dark oak doors. ‘And here it is.’

‘It’s gorgeous.’ Emma looked around the space that would be hers for the next few weeks. The brass bed had a pretty patchwork quilt. The fireplace was tiled in blue and white, which seemed to be a theme throughout the house, and any draught from the windows was kept at bay by the thick velvet curtains that Catherine whisked shut.

‘Poppy and Ollie’s rooms are next door and they have their own bathroom between them. There’s a playroom on this side and down the other hallway there are a couple of guest rooms and Adam’s room is at the end. Have a good explore tomorrow, when you’ve got some daylight.’ Catherine glanced at her watch. ‘I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to dash. I need to get home and collect my suitcase.’

‘Home? Don’t you live here?’

‘Not any more. I moved out when Adam and Tania got married. It’s been a family tradition for generations that the eldest son raises his family here. I have a cottage in the village.’

So it had been a family home for generations? That would explain the astonishingly homely feel of the house. And the enormous collection of photographs. Emma followed Catherine back into the hallway. She bit her lip but her curiosity refused to subside.

‘Would it be awfully rude if I asked about … Tania?’

‘Of course not, pet.’ Catherine stopped in her tracks, turned her head to scrutinise the gallery of photographs and then pointed. ‘That’s her. I think that picture was taken on their honeymoon in the Maldives.’

A stunning beach scene. An even more stunning young woman with long, blonde hair and a model’s body frolicking in the surf. Laughing. The joy was unmistakeable and Emma could imagine Adam standing there with the camera, capturing such a happy moment with his new wife.

‘She’s beautiful.’

‘Aye …’ The word was a sigh. ‘Poppy has the look of her, I think. Ollie’s more like his dad.’

There were more photographs, of course. Emma spotted a wedding portrait, with Adam gazing adoringly at his bride. A lovely black and white image of Tania and the newborn twins and more with the babies as toddlers.

‘The bairns were only three when it happened,’ Catherine said softly. ‘They barely remember their mother so it’s good to have so many pictures for them.’

Emma swallowed hard. ‘What did happen?’

‘A terrible tragedy. Tania liked to do her Christmas shopping in Edinburgh and she’d stay in a B&B so she could get it all done in a couple of days. There was a fire that year and she was trapped. She didn’t get burned but they said she died of smoke inhalation.’

‘Right before Christmas? That’s so sad.’

‘Aye.’ Catherine caught her gaze for a long moment. There was a hint of warning in her gaze. And a plea. ‘You might need to be patient with Adam. It’s no’ an easy time of year for him.’

‘I can imagine.’ No wonder he seemed so terse and grumpy, Emma thought. Or that she had yet to see him smile. How hard would it be to have the whole world joyously celebrating family and times of togetherness when it marked the anniversary of losing a beautiful and beloved young wife? The mother of his children?

‘But Christmas is for the bairns, isn’t it?’ Catherine added. ‘And they’re old enough to see that their Christmas is no’ like all the other bairns in the village and that’s no’ really fair, is it?’

Emma held the older woman’s gaze. ‘I’ll do my best to make it a special Christmas for them,’ she promised.

‘Aye …’ Catherine patted her arm. ‘I’ve a feeling you might do just that. Thank you.’ Her smile was poignant. ‘The bairns think their mother is an angel who’s still looking after them. Maybe that was why you got sent to us.’

When his mother drove away from the house on the first leg of her journey to Canada, Adam was left standing on the front steps.

Stunned.

What had just happened here?

He’d been dreading this moment for months. Ever since he had learned of his sister’s due date and realised that—for the first time since Tania’s death—he might have to face this Christmas without the emotional support of the most important woman in his life. And worse, that the twins would be without their beloved grandmother, who was the one who insisted on making the day as special as possible for them.

He’d expected tears. Possibly tantrums, especially from Poppy, who simply adored her gran. Oliver was just as attached, of course, but he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Poppy. He was more like himself, in guarding his heart and not letting others see any private misery. His children were his life—both of them—but he did worry more about Ollie. Because he knew just how much misery it was possible to hide?

But the moment had come. They’d all been out there to say goodbye to Catherine. Even the unknown quantity that was the new arrival of the temporary nanny because his mother wouldn’t let her hang back from the family farewell. She’d been standing there beside the children—looking remarkably like a wayward, teenage sister—getting one of those warm hugs that Catherine was so good at. And then she’d whispered something in Ollie’s ear and his little boy had given a solemn nod and turned to lead the way back inside. Poppy had jumped up and down and tugged on Emma’s hand and she was bursting with excitement as she dragged Emma back up the steps.

‘We’re going to see the kit-ar,’ she informed Adam as they went past. ‘I love kit-ars.’

Benji had bounded in their wake, of course. It was Bob who was sitting by Adam’s feet and he saw the dog shiver. How long had he been standing here, wondering how on earth something he’d been dreading had turned out to be so easy?

Long enough for his dog to shiver noticeably.

‘Come on, then, old boy.’

Back in the warmth of the house, he pushed the heavy door closed and then he heard it.

The sound of music coming from the kitchen.

Expertly plucked guitar strings. A song being sung in a clear, sweet voice that filled the air and made it somehow more of a pleasure to breathe.

A childish song, he realised as he stepped closer to the bright glow of the kitchen door. A nonsense song with tongue-twister words about a copper coffee-pot.

And it wasn’t just Emma singing. Poppy was getting the words wrong and giggling but Oliver must have learned the song at school because he was joining in part of the chorus.

Not very loudly but he knew his son’s voice.

He stopped again. Puzzled.

What was it about this girl?

His mother had seen it instantly. Poppy was prepared to love everybody. But Ollie …?

How on earth had she put her hands on a key to that little heart so quickly?

Adam shook his head and Bob lay down and put his nose on his paws to wait.

He knew when something big was changing. And he knew that it took longer for his master to recognise any joyful possibilities that something new could offer. His job was simply to keep him company while he had a little think about it all.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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