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He went on, ‘Maybe it’s olive oil. I know how much you enjoy Mediterranean cooking, Mum.’
‘Not that either,’ Sally said, triumphantly uncovering a boxed bottle of single malt whisky. ‘Dalwhinnie!’ She glanced up at him, green eyes sparkling. ‘My favourite. Oh, thank you Georgie.’ George received one of her best Sumo wrestler hugs from which they both emerged red faced and laughing.
‘Sorry.’ Owen offered another book-shaped gift. ‘This is sort of Scottish, but it isn’t whisky.’
‘I won’t try to guess what it is.’ Sally smiled at him and tore off the wrapping from a pristine copy ofCross Stitch. ‘I can tell you’ve not read this one?’ she teased.
‘No, I haven’t.’ Owen’s brow crumpled. ‘But I’ve heard it’s good. It’s set in the Scottish Highlands.’
‘I’ve only visited Highlands once, but it was the trip of a lifetime. I fell in love…’ she paused, looking up into Owen’s eyes, and he knew she was remembering her Matthew.
‘I didn’t know you’d been to Scotland, Mum.’
‘It was a long time ago.’ Sally pulled herself together. ‘Before you were even a twinkle in your dad’s eye.’
Owen picked up the last of his gifts and turned to Millie. ‘This is for you. Sorry, it’s not very imaginative.’
Millie unwrapped another book, again a used paperback,Understanding Media.
‘Sorry about the state of it,’ Owen said. ‘It’s a bit worn. But it’s a classic now.’
‘I’ve heard about this book. Is this your copy?’
‘No. It’s yours now. I’ve read it enough times to pass it on.’
‘Thank you, Owen, you are kind.’ Millie stretched up to kiss his cheek.
‘Just glad you like it.’ Owen shuffled out of the way.
Millie looked happily around the family circle and said to Sally, ‘Has Mr Halcyon left his gift for you.’
‘He has lovie.’ Sally gazed at George. Then changed the subject. ‘What about Owen? No one has given him his presents yet.’
Hands up, he backed away, protesting, ‘It’s all right. It’s enough for me to be here with everyone.’
‘Stuff that for a load of bullshit.’ George said. ‘We haven’t forgotten you.’ He ducked behind the sofa and pulled out a lumpy parcel, which only he could have wrapped. ‘This is from Millie and me.’
Owen unwrapped it and found yet another scarf.
Millie said, grinning, ‘I’ve gone big on neckwear this year.’
‘And the gloves are from me,’ George said. ‘Though Millie did the shopping yesterday, before she went on shift. That’s why the wrapping is crap… I did it.’
‘Did you? I’d never have guessed.’ Owen smothered a smile. ‘They’ll be warm. Thanks. I appreciate it.’
‘My turn,’ Sally said, pulling a small parcel from a drawer in the sideboard.
Owen took the tidily wrapped square package she offered him and fiddled with the seal before peeling the paper off, revealing an expensive-looking jeweller’s box. Owen looked at George. They exchanged thoughts.
Even before thelittle hinged lid was lifted, George suspected this gift was not initially intended for Owen. Every Christmas, no matter how unkind his father had been to her, his mum always bought something classy and usually expensive for his gift. Pearls before swine, he thought and had said so one year. But she’d just laughed and told him it gave her pleasure to spend Chas’s money on things he didn’t really appreciate.
Inside the box, nestling in black velvet, a pair of gold cufflinks, each with a diamond chip, glinted classily at them all.
Owen gasped ‘These are too much, Mrs Halcyon.’ He held the box out to her.
‘Nonsense, and it’s Sally now, remember.’ She cupped his hands together within her own, enclosing both hands and jeweller’s box, then gently but firmly pushed them back to him. ‘Take them, you’ll wear them with more dash.’
More dash than my dad,George thought. Served the bastard right.
