Page 27 of The Merry Christmas Project

Deep mullioned windows looked out onto the market. He looked through the dirty glass now, wiping it clean with the sleeve of his coat. From here he could just make out the two women on the nut stall. A smile hovered at his lips ; he’d enjoyed the conversation with them, they were clearly good friends who had fun together.

What was it the blonde one had said : he’s not the opposite sex, he’s a customer ! He laughed to himself again and pulled the free sample bag out of his pocket, trying to remember what it was. He opened the bag and sniffed. Still no idea. They looked like baked peas. He’d never had a baked pea before, but he took a handful and tipped them straight into his mouth anyway.

He’d crunched them a couple of times before the flavour hit the back of his nose.

JEEZ. What the hell was that ? He spat the chewed-up pieces out into his hand but the damage had been done. His mouth was on fire and his nose was burning. Why hadn’t he brought a drink with him ? He bolted up the stairs to the toilet, which bizarrely had a Yale lock on the outside. Keeping his foot wedged in the door to avoid getting locked in, he turned on the tap over the hand basin and scooped water into his mouth. Ugh. He wouldn’t be trying those again. No wonder they were free, they were horrific. At least his sinuses would be clear for the next decade.

He blinked away tears from his watering eyes and sniffed. There was no tissue to blow his nose or wipe his eyes. There was a mirror though and he caught sight of himself and laughed. He looked exactly like someone who’d had a red-hot poker stuck up his nose. What an idiot.

He walked out of the bathroom and into the front part of the building. This must have been a meeting room in the past. The walls were wood-panelled and the ceilings ornately plastered. Curved windows overlooked the street below. His eyes strayed automatically to Nell’s Nuts again. The one with the bandaged hand was still there but the blonde one had gone. He felt disappointed for some reason and turned his back on the window.

The proportions of the room were great. It would be a stunning living room ; it wouldn’t take much to tart up the wooden floorboards, add some decent lighting, flat-screen TV on the wall and a couple of distressed leather sofas, perhaps a recliner for watching films ? It would be a cracking room. The plan was to keep the building as an investment and rent it out. If he hadn’t had the children to consider, he might even have wanted to live here himself. He headed back out into the corridor and into the space which would become the large kitchen diner. When he came back tomorrow he’d measure up for a new kitchen. He’d get a company to come in and do it : plumbing, electrics, appliances, the works. Modern or traditional ? Either would probably work … His train of thought was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

It was Harley FaceTiming him.

‘Hey !’ Cole grinned at his boy, still in his pyjamas, thick red hair sticking up in tufts. ‘How are you ?’

‘Good thanks, but erm, Dad ?’ Harley’s brow furrowed and he brought the screen closer to his face. ‘Are you crying ?’

Cole laughed and pulled the bag of peas out of his pocket. ‘Just been pranked, I think. I’ve been given a free sample of Devil’s food. Imagine swallowing strong mustard and horseradish and multiply it by ten. My eyes were watering like mad and I think I’ve destroyed the lining of my nose.’

‘Oh Dad, you plonker, they’re wasabi peas !’ Harley crowed, clearly enjoying his dad’s misfortune. ‘They have them here at the sushi place we go to. It’s all right if you just have a tiny bit.’

Cole smiled ruefully ; every part of that sentence emphasised the distance between them. Harley was doing things, going places, eating at Japanese restaurants, for heaven’s sake, and his dad wasn’t part of it.

‘You’ve learned some stuff since you’ve been in Canada !’ he said lightly. ‘Where’s the boy who ordered chicken nuggets and chips wherever we went ?’

‘Da-ad,’ Harley said with a groan. ‘That was when I was just a kid. I eat most things now. I even had a green smoothie yesterday.’

‘You’re right, you are growing up, you’re a braver man than me,’ he replied, pulling a funny face. ‘What’s wrong with orange squash ?’

Harley rolled his eyes. He was still in bed and wearing an old Foo Fighters T-shirt.

‘Hey, is that my T-shirt ?’

Harley gave a snort of laughter and pulled the covers up to hide it. ‘Might be.’

Cole grinned. ‘I wondered where that had gone.’

‘I just …’ Harley’s voice was gruff. ‘I wanted something of yours to bring with me. Do you mind ?’

This was the closest his son had come to admitting that he missed him, and the words were like balm to Cole’s ragged heart. ‘Not at all. It suits you.’

He exhaled slowly, allowing his features to rearrange themselves into something less melancholy. The way his children had adapted to new circumstances amazed him. According to WhatsApp messages from Lydia, they’d made friends, settled into school and were loving life in Whistler. Cole was glad about all of that, but he was even more glad that he hadn’t been forgotten.

‘Anyway,’ he cleared his throat, aware that his eyes were beginning to sting again and this time not from wasabi. ‘It’s Saturday, what have you got planned for the day ?’

‘That’s why I called.’ Harley’s eyes gleamed. ‘I’ll show you.’

He shifted across to pull on a cord at the side of the window. As the blind lifted all that Cole could see was a bright white light.

‘Is that snow ?’ Cole asked.

‘Yup. Look.’ Harley got out of bed and held up the phone.

‘I’m meeting my friends and we’re going snowboarding. I wish …’ Harley faltered and his cheeks went pink. ‘I wish you were here.’

‘Yeah, me too, mate,’ he replied softly.