‘He used to be huge fun, always buying drinks and whisking us off on yachts, but he’s so serious now. I do hope he finds some sort of middle ground, I’m not sure he’s happy – too busy proving that he’s not a party animal anymore and –Ithink – rather scared of enjoying himself in case everything comes crashing down around him again.’
‘He wasn’t happy last night.’
‘No, Xander was beingawful, trying to make him drink and lead him astray. Xander just doesn’t get it. He’s my brother and I love him, but he’s much more armour-plated somehow. Slick. He doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body and can’t understand why Lando doesn’t want to plunge back into the City cesspit and carry on piling up the cash. Anyway, I still adore Lando, I only hope he finds his way. For all that he seems to want to behave like some sort of spartan monk, there’s still a living, breathing man in there somewhere. I’d hate for him to turn to dust.’
We started to tackle a particularly beautiful but vicious piece of holly and the twins rushed over to advise.
‘Mind that bit there, Penny, it’s going to spike you. Cut some more, cut some more, I want to put it everywhere! Get the berries, those ones up there.’
I snipped away gingerly, and we stuffed our trugs to overflowing.
‘Come on, everyone, it’s getting cold. Let’s get ourselves home, put these in some water and have a hot drink to warm ourselves up. On the way, you can tell me your favourite things about Christmas.’
Seraphina was first to pipe up.
‘Oh Pixie, I adore all the presents. They look so pretty under the tree, and you never know what they are. I canneverguess.’
‘It sounds to me as if you like them better wrapped than unwrapped.’
She gazed at me, her huge brown eyes serious.
‘Ohno, Iloveunwrapping them too.’
We all laughed.
‘What about you, Caspy? What’s your best thing about Christmas?’
‘It’s very hard to only choose one.’
He shook his head solemnly, and we walked in silence for a few minutes as he pondered his answer.
‘I think – Ithink– it’s probably the tree. I love decorating it and I like it there in the day and when we put the lights on. And I like the new and the old decorations. Yes, the tree.’
I gave him a squeeze.
‘I like the tree, too, darling. But I think my favourite thing is the singing. All the carols I learnt at school and can remember – well, most of the words to. But also the pop songs.’ I burst into a brief, slightly tuneless, rendition of Wham’s big Christmas hit, then stopped when I saw the looks of bewilderment. ‘Never mind, I’m sure you’ll learn to love them. I like singing with the children at school too. I always cry when they do ‘Little Donkey’ and I’ve been teaching for years.’
‘Oh, oh, we know ‘Little Donkey’! Come on, Cas, let’s sing it for Pixie.’
As they piped the dear, familiar song, I did indeed feel tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. Would I ever hear my own child sing this? I wondered sadly, before squaring my shoulders and conjuring up a mental image of an exciting, childfree life in India. It didn’t look very Christmassy.
‘What about you, Bunny?’
She started, as if her mind were a million miles away.
‘What, darling? Oh, my favourite thing about Christmas? Gosh, erm, let me think. I suppose…’ She paused, gazing at her children scampering across the frosty ground, now singing lustily about a snowman. Then she smiled. ‘It has to be the children, doesn’t it, watching them enjoy it? I never thought it would happen to me, but all my favourite things now seem to be connected to the children.’ She placed her hand briefly on her stomach. ‘Maybe another one will add to that.’
‘I’m sure it will. And imagine, you could have a singing trio, work your way to being the new Von Trapp Family Singers.’
‘Oh God, Pixie, that would mean me joining in, and no one wants to hear that, I can promise you.’
As we approached the house, I noticed a figure sitting on the bench outside, but I couldn’t make out who it was as they were hunched over, their head in their hands.
‘Who’s that?’ said Bunny.
‘I can’t see from here. They don’t look very happy.’
Of course, the twins realised immediately and shouted out:
