Page 31 of Winter Magic at Hollybrae Castle

‘Go on!’ Rory prompts me.

I look at Ollie again and swallow hard as I think about what to say. I could go for funny and mention his impeccable taste in clothing, or his generosity, but this feels like a moment not to hide anything. ‘Ollie is the kind of person who makes you wish that every other person in your life was like him.’

Maybe I shouldn’t have been that honest, but since coming here, I’ve done nothing but wish there were more people like him in my real life, and it felt right to say that.

My cheeks have flared red yet again by the time I risk a glance over and meet the blue-grey eyes I can feel on me, and without dropping my gaze, he reaches out and gives my hand a quick squeeze and mouths a thank you.

‘What’s each other’s most annoying habit?’ Rory’s next question cuts through… whatever that was, and we both look away like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t.

‘She doesn’t have any,’ Ollie says smoothly, and I can’t help laughing. Now that is a well-trained fake husband.

‘He works too much,’ I answer easily.

‘Our daddy says his job is to make rich people richer while making himself miserable.’

Ollie nearly chokes on his pasta. ‘I bet he didn’t say that thinking it would ever be repeated.’

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?’