‘Maybe you do,’ she said softly. ‘Maybe you always did, instead of just rushing off and doing.’
‘Yeah, well, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then, and as you were kind enough to point out to me when I was asking about David, it’s actually none of your business. Now, are we going to finish this tree or not?’
He got to his feet, scooping the little parcels up in his big hands and heading out of the door. She grabbed the fir cones, ribbon and scissors and stood up. He was never going to change, never going to compromise. The word wasn’t even in his vocabulary.
‘Josh, come on, we’re going to decorate the tree,’ she told her son, and he wriggled down off the chair and followed her into the sitting room.
‘IT LOOKS GOOD.’
She put the baby monitor on the coffee table, sat down at the other end of the sofa and studied the tree with satisfaction.
Not exactly elegant, with its slightly squiffy little parcels and random bunches of twigs and soggy fir cones—well, the top half wasn’t so bad, although there were a few odd bits up there just to link it in so it didn’t look like a game of Consequences—but it looked like a proper, family Christmas tree.
And that brought a huge lump to her throat.
Josh had had so much fun putting all their home-made bits and pieces on there, and Sebastian hadn’t turned a hair when he’d pulled too hard and the whole tree had wobbled. He’d just got a bit of string and tied it to a hook on the beam above so it couldn’t fall.
‘It does look good,’ she said softly. ‘It looks lovely. Thank you.’
Sebastian turned his head and frowned slightly at her. ‘Why are you thanking me? You’ve helped me decorate my tree.’
‘And we’ve done it for my son, which has meant not being able to use all your lovely decorations and smothering the bottom of it in all sorts of weird home-made bits and pieces, which I’m perfectly sure wasn’t your intention, so—yes, thank you.’
The frown deepened for a moment, then cleared as he shook his head and looked back at the tree.
‘Actually, I rather like all the home-made things,’ he said after a moment, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat.
‘Especially the gingerbread trees and stars,’ she said, trying to lighten the moment. ‘And don’t think I haven’t noticed that every time you “accidentally” bump into the tree another one breaks so you get to eat it. Between you and Josh there are hardly any left.’
He grinned. ‘I don’t know what you mean. And if we’re running out, it’s your fault. I told you to make plenty.’
She rolled her eyes and rested her head back against the sofa cushions with a lazy groan. ‘This is really comfortable,’ she mumbled.
‘It is. I love this room. I think it’s probably my favourite room in the whole house.’
Because they’d never made any plans for it? Maybe, she thought, considering it. Or had they? Hadn’t there been some mention of it being a playroom for all the hordes of children? But they hadn’t spent any significant time in it. Not like the bedroom. Maybe that made the difference.
Or maybe he just liked it.
She rolled her head towards him and changed the subject.
‘So, what’s the programme for tomorrow? Since you have such strong opinions on how it should be done...’
Another grin flashed across his face. ‘Cheeky.’ He hitched his leg up, resting his arm on the back of the sofa and propping his head on his hand so he was facing her, thoughtful now.
‘I think that probably depends on you and Josh. What are you going to do about presents for him? Are you going to wait until you’re with your parents?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. He was really excited about the tree and he knows there will be presents under it because they had them at nursery, so I think there probably should be something for him to find tomorrow, otherwise it might be a bit of an anti-climax.’
‘You don’t think it will anyway, with just us and a few presents instead of a big family affair? Wouldn’t you rather wait?’
‘Do you think I should?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s up to you, but it makes me feel a bit awkward because there isn’t one from me, and it’ll look as if I don’t care and I’d hate him to think that, but obviously I haven’t got anything to give him. Either of you.’
She stared at him, unbearably touched that he should feel so strongly about it—and so wrongly. She reached out a hand to him, grasping his and squeezing it.
‘Oh, Sebastian. You’re giving us Christmas! How much more could we possibly ask? You’ve opened your home to us, let us create absolute havoc in it, we’ve taken it over completely so you haven’t even been able to work, and—well, frankly, without you we might not even be alive for it, so I really don’t think you need to worry about some gaudy plastic toy wrapped up and stuck under the tree! In the grand scheme of things, what you’ve given him—given us—is immeasurable, and whatever else is going on between us, I’ll never forget that.’
Sebastian frowned again—he was doing that a lot—and turned away, his jaw working.
‘He’s just a kid, George,’ he said gruffly.
‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘And for some reason that really seems to get to you.’
He shrugged and eased his hand away, as if the contact made him uncomfortable. ‘I don’t like to think of kids being unhappy at Christmas. Or ever. Any time. And as I’ve said, I’ve got nothing else to do and nowhere else to be. So—presents, or not presents?’
She thought about it for a moment. Her parents had spoiled him on his birthday just four weeks ago, and he’d had so many presents he hadn’t really known what to play with first. And there was nothing here in the house, really, that he could play with safely.
And then she had an idea that would solve it all. ‘I think—presents? Or some of them, at least. I’ve got him a wooden train set, and it comes in two boxes. There’s the main set, and there are some little people and a bench and trees and things in another box. You could give him that, if you’re really worried about him having something from you under the tree.’
‘Don’t you mind?’
She laughed. ‘Why should I mind? He’s still getting the toy, and it would give him something constructive to play with while we’re stuck here. And I’ve got a little stocking for him from Father Christmas. That ought to go up tonight because he’s bound to get up early.’
‘Does he even know who Father Christmas is?’
She smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t know. We went to see him, but I’m not sure he was that impressed. He looked a bit worried, to be honest,
