Page 58 of Not Just for Christmas

Sam gasped and danced on the spot in front of us. ‘Will you take me to the beach at Christmas, Uncle Dylan?’

‘Sure thing, dude,’ Dylan cried.

‘We might not do that this year,’ I said weakly. ‘There’s so much to do on Christmas morning with the cows and …’

My voice petered out. Dylan looked at me as if I was crazy. ‘Jack always said going to the beach was the best thing about Christmas. How could you miss it? Come on,’ he said, not waiting for an answer. ‘I’ll be real quick.’

‘Cool,’ Sam wriggled free from Dylan’s grasp and before I could call him back, he was inside the shop. I ran in after him and found him in the children’s section.

‘Mum, can I try on this?’ Sam held up a blue wetsuit with a picture of a dolphin on it.

‘Not today, darling,’ I said, taking it out of his hand. ‘We don’t have enough time.’

The thought of Sam wanting to learn to surf gave me sleepless nights. I knew I wouldn’t be able to say no forever, but while he was still so little, I was going to try to keep him out of the waves for as long as I could.

‘But Uncle Dylan’s doing it,’ Sam protested, folding his arms. ‘So we do have time.’

I looked across the shop and saw Dylan disappearing into a changing cubicle. A group of girls who’d been sifting through the sale rail drifted closer to the changing rooms. Dylan emerged seconds later in a wetsuit pulled up to his waist, his top half naked.

He saw me and beckoned me over. ‘Told you I’d be fast. Can you help with this zipper?’

In his usual jeans and multiple layers it was easy to forget what a good body he had. But the neoprene material clung to his body like a second skin, skimming every muscle, his broad chest tapering into slim hips, the contoured biceps, strong thighs.

I forced my gaze back to his face. ‘Sure.’

‘Oh my days! It definitely is you, you’re Dylan Wilde!’ said one of the girls.

‘Damn,’ Dylan muttered under his breath. ‘Just once in a while I’d like a little privacy.’

‘To be fair,’ I said, tugging the zip up for him, ‘you’d probably get noticed in this outfit whatever your name was. You’re in good shape for forty.’

‘In that case …’ He turned round, a smile playing on his lips. ‘You can unzip me now, please. I’m definitely buying it.’

‘It is him,’ another one shrieked. ‘Look at the tattoo on his back!’

‘Mummy?’ Sam ran over, carrying a neon yellow bodyboard. ‘The man says this is the right size for me. Can I put it on my Christmas list?’

‘Er,’ I floundered. His Christmas list was woefully lacking in ideas. I didn’t want to say no, but I didn’t want to say yes either. A bodyboard was the gateway to a surfboard and look where that had got our family.

‘Dylan, is this your kid?’ gasped a girl from behind her raised mobile phone. ‘Hey little boy, is Dylan Wilde your dad?’

‘No. My daddy has gone to heaven,’ Sam said politely. ‘That’s my Uncle Dylan.’

‘Aw,’ the girls chorused. More phones appeared, trained on the three of us.

‘Er, excuse me!’ Indignation raised my voice by at least an octave. ‘Do not take pictures of my child.’

‘Who are you? His new girlfriend?’ one asked.

‘With those boots?’ another sniggered. ‘Yeah, right.’

I gritted my teeth – these were my favourite and comfiest boots. ‘Dylan, we should leave.’

‘Agreed. Not cool, guys.’ Dylan scooped Sam up and turned his face into his own shoulder to hide him. ‘Take photos of me if you must, but the boy is out of bounds.’

‘Are you kidding?’ the girl sneered. ‘You’re in a public place.’

‘Yeah, this is gold. It’s going straight on my Instagram stories,’ said another, tapping furiously at her phone. ‘But I’ll tag you.’