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“That’s highly unlikely mate,” Jesse said, but allowed himself to be dragged toward the road.
“He’s allowedonesweet treat,” Sareena called after them. “There’s fruit in his backpack.”
“Be good.”
Jesse heard his brother’s weighted words as Oliver, already chattering about hot chocolate, gingerbread and toy stalls, hurried him along.
“Dad’s right, you know, Uncle Jesse,” Oliver said a little while later, grinning through a smear of chocolate sauce. The crowds weaved around them, and the mouth-watering smells of deep-fried food and spices were thick in the cold air. “You do look good. The clothes are nice.”
“Thanks, mate,” Jesse replied as they made for yet another craft stall.
“I think the leather coat was way cooler, though,” Oliver said as he examined the counter of carved Christmas tree decorations.
“I still have it,” Jesse said, reaching for the wooden train Oliver was eyeing. “But it was never much good in the winter. You like this?”
“It’s great. But is it for the tree?”
“Yeah, but you can run it on the ground, too. See?” He ran the train along the edge of the counter while the stall owner smiled maternally. “Want me to have a word with Father Christmas, see if he’ll let you have an early present?”
Oliver beamed and Jesse handed over the money. They moved toward the Shambles, and Oliver ran the train along walls and fences. But his sound effects quieted then stopped. His face turned thoughtful.
“You all right, mate?”
Oliver sniffed. “Will you be coming over for Christmas, Uncle Jesse?”
Jesse took a breath. “I dunno, mate. I have to be asked, don’t I?”
“Dad hasn’t asked you?”
“Not yet. But either way, you’ll have your mum and dad. That’s what counts, right?”
Oliver wiped his face with the back of his mitten. “Dad’s still acting weird.”
Jesse’s heart clenched. “He’s just missing Grandad, mate. That’s all.”
Oliver looked up, eyes round. “Do you miss Grandad, too?”
“Course I do. Why do you ask?”
Oliver was silent for a moment, expression grave. “What about Grandma?”
Jesse paused, trying to control his face. “What about Grandma?”
“Do you miss her, too?”
Jesse sighed, a familiar weight suddenly leaden in his chest. He drew Oliver onto a nearby bench and sat. “You never even met Grandma, Olly. Why are you asking?”
“Dad talks about her a lot, even more at the moment,” Oliver said, listlessly spinning the wheels on his wooden train. “I think he thinks you don’t care about her—and I think that’s why you fight all the time.”
A needle went through Jesse’s chest.
“Olly, you have to understand…” He fumbled for the explanation that had never satisfied anyone other than himself. “I was very small when our mum died, smaller than you are now. Of course, I miss her, but I never really knew her.” He kept his expression mild as he met his nephew’s penetrating gaze. “Your dad and I…? We’re just different, that’s all. And, you know, sometimes brothers and sisters fight. You’ll learn that one day.”
“No, I won’t.”
Jesse blinked. “What’s that?”
“Mum and Dad told me last week that I won’t ever have a brother…or a sister.” Oliver sniffed louder. “Mum seemed sad, but Dad said I’m all they need.”
