Page 31 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

The rain intensified and was actually stinging their cheeks now. ‘Well, this wasn’t quite the coffee and beach stroll I’d imagined, I must say,’ shouted Becky over the roar of the wind, pulling her puffer-coat hood tighter around her head.

Within seconds, the heavens opened. The two girls made a run for it, but by the time they reached the car park they were drenched to the skin. Jeans sticking to cold wet legs, hair dripping, and one very damp Dachshund.

‘Quick, get in!’ Lucy gestured to her Jeep, fumbling with the key fob.

‘Bloody hell! Where did that come from?’

‘Whose idea was a bloody beach walk, anyway?’

They looked at each other, both of them sopping wet, yet weirdly they were grinning.

Despite the rain, Lucy’s determination to fight for their friendship had thankfully managed to knit it back into something warm and protective. The thread of their friendship might well be a little frailer than usual, but it was absolutely still there.

Chapter Fifteen

‘One, two, three and … up.’

Prickles and pine scents blasted Jack’s face as he and the chap from the garden centre hoisted the tree up onto Ruby’s roof. All he had to do now was strap the trunk down securely on the campervan and off they’d tootle to deliver this beauty of a festive fir to Lucy’s cottage. After that awful carry-on with her horsebox being vandalised, he’d wanted to do something to cheer her up, and this seemed the perfect plan.

He hadn’t been to buy a Christmas tree for donkey’s years, he realised. Not since he was a lad with his dad … oh, and of course, Daniel. Images flooded in of them wedging a bushy Nordmann pine into the rear of Dad’s Ford Escort Estate. It was always too long, of course, and the tall spiky tip ended up rather precariously above the gearstick, somewhere near Dad’s shoulder, where it poked through the front seats. Daniel sat up front – he always seemed to ‘shotgun’ the passenger seat as the elder sibling – and Jack squeezed into the single seat space beside the tremendous tree, with bits of branches poking through the mesh wrapper, prickling him. But that didn’t stop that festive joy, the excitement they felt as kids, heady with the knowledge that Christmas would soon arrive.

He felt his throat tighten. Memories of Christmas pasts … when the world once seemed so magical.

Jack pulled himself back to the present. ‘Ah, cheers, mate.’ Trying to hoist the pine on top of the campervan would have been really tricky by himself, but the lad here had seemed happy to help. Mind you, he was now sixty quid down, he mused wryly. Oh yes, Jack had gone ‘large’ with the tree, and seeing it almost filling the length of Ruby’s roof, he now wondered if it would actually fit into Lucy’s cottage living room. It wasn’t the biggest of spaces, after all. Hmm, there might have to be some serious furniture shifting to accommodate it! But hey-ho, or ho ho ho … it was Christmas.

And, for the first time in years, Jack began to feel a tingle of excitement about Christmas coming. Thoughts of going back to Lucy’s cosy cottage, setting up the tree with her. The log fire burning in the hearth. She’d promised to cook him supper too, so he had no reason to rush away. The afternoon and evening were theirs to enjoy.

After a steady drive along winding still-frosty country roads, Jack pulled to a stop outside Cove Cottage.

Lucy must have been watching from the front window, as she was out on the pavement in seconds to greet him … and the rather large tree. Daisy was at her heels barking furiously at the strange bushy item on the roof.

‘Shush, Daisy, it’s fine. It’s just a tree.’ Lucy looked closer, ‘So, you went for a real one then?’

‘Yeah, you can’t beat it.’ They’d always had a real tree at home. Well, until Daniel had passed away, that was, when a smaller, sadder-looking fake fir had been bought at John Lewis, and was pulled down from the loft every year in a pretence that life was anywhere near normal. ‘And before you say anything, it’s okay, I got it from the place that plants at least as many new trees as it cuts down. Sustainable and all that …’

‘Right, well that’s good. It’ll be lovely, I’m sure,’ she paused, looking up at it thoughtfully.

‘What?’ Jack could tell something was up.

‘It’s great, thank you, but … you do know we’re still in November, and it may well be bald by the time Christmas actually gets here,’ Lucy added cheekily.

‘Ah well, I’ll have to take a chance.’ In his enthusiasm to recapture some Christmas joy, he hadn’t actually considered that. ‘Plenty of watering, and … we can make the most of it fir now, can’t we,’ he quipped as he gave a rakish grin.

Lucy had to shake her head and smile at his lame pun. She couldn’t help but get caught up in his enthusiasm. After all, it was going to be great fun putting the tree up and decorating it together. It was brilliant to have a special someone to share the build-up to Christmas with this year.

‘Yeah, absolutely,’ she agreed. ‘Come on then, let’s get this festive beauty inside.’

‘Left a bit … no, right a bit. Argh, steady!’

Lucy felt like she was about to topple off, much like the silver wooden star that she was trying, precariously, to place on top of the humungous Christmas tree (the tip of which was slightly bent over and brushing the cottage lounge ceiling). It had to be an eight-footer, at least. Jack certainly didn’t do anything by halves! She’d been perched on Jack’s shoulders for the past ten minutes, trying to reach the top tiers. They’d had to move the armchair out from beside the hearth to wedge the beast of a fir into the corner.

Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ was beating away from her iPhone, and wafts of supper drifted tantalisingly through from the kitchen; a casserole of beef in ale with a seasonal pinch of spice and a sprinkling of grated orange peel was slowly cooking away. She’d light the log fire soon, ready for them to settle down on the sofa. Hah, Daisy was already there snoozing, after tiring herself out chasing strands of tinsel about. Oh yes, a lovely evening together looked to be panning out nicely.

The star at last slid down to rest securely on a knobbly bit of the slightly bent-over tip. And hey presto! ‘O-kay, that’s it. I’m done,’ she called out.

‘Thank heavens for that,’ a voice groaned from below. ‘My shoulders are about to give out.’

‘Hey, you, don’t be so cheeky … Anyway, a strong young man like you, with all that hard-earned muscle, should find it easy,’ she teased back.