calendar. But he was actually quite looking forward to this one for the first time in his life. He’d told Wilf he was spending it with his family, but actually he hadn’t told any of his family that he was back, and planned to spend the day on his own, mooching around London, taking advantage of the empty streets to see the sights and whatever bars and restaurants might be open. Maybe even try and find a cinema. He’d been getting increasingly excited about it from the moment he’d decided on the subterfuge. The plan was hampered only by his guilt over not seeing his mum and dad, but as long as he kept shoving that to the corner of his brain he was fine.
Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by Annie’s soon-to-be step-son pointing towards the stereo that was crooning out Christmas music and saying, ‘Can we turn it off now, it’s shit.’
‘I think it’s lovely. Leave it alone,’ Annie said, just as Matt walked in, looking a bit sheepish. He was soaking from the rain, his blond hair plastered to his head. ‘Where have you been?’ Annie asked, the music forgotten, the teenager putting on his headphones in protest.
‘At the pub,’ Matt said, cringing with guilt. ‘We won the regatta, everyone wanted a drink to celebrate. I’m really sorry. And I’m a bit pissed.’
Annie, who was wobbling precariously on a ladder, trying to get drawing pins to stick in the ceiling so they would hold up some strings of tiny coloured baubles, looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Screw that shit. Harry thought. All that apologising and keeping tabs on each other. He hated it. It was one of the reasons he was so looking forward to his Christmas – nowhere to be, no one to check in with, no one to expect anything. With the meeting cancelled and Wilf snoring away in front of him, his hands under his head like a pillow, Harry wondered if perhaps he should start the celebrations now. Mosey up to London, find a decent bar and drink away his jet lag.
But then a tiny wail started in the kitchen.
Annie looked round from where she was now standing on top of a table moving the garland a fraction of a centimetre to the left. ‘That’s Willow.’
Harry nodded.
Annie opened her eyes wide at him. ‘It’s Willow.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ he said.
‘Is Wilf going to get her?’
‘Wilf’s asleep.’
‘Well wake him up,’ she said, as if Harry was being an idiot.
Harry raised a brow and then gave Wilf a shove. Nothing happened. The guy was comatose. The wailing got louder.
‘He’s not waking up.’
‘Oh for god’s sake.’ Annie put her hands on her head, clearly at the end of her tether. ‘Well go and get the baby.’
‘I’m not getting the baby.’
‘Don’t be such a baby,’ she shouted down from the ladder.
‘I’m not a baby. The baby’s a baby.’ Harry scowled.
‘Just get the baby.’
The teenager had taken his headphones off and was smirking at Harry being told what to do by Annie.
Harry sloped out of his booth seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek in annoyance. Why couldn’t she get the baby? He didn’t want to get the baby.
The noise was emanating from the black pram in the corner.
He walked closer, wincing at the sound. This was not good for his jet lag.
The kid inside looked like a prune with a huge mouth.
‘Oh Jesus.’ He sighed. He had vague memories of his younger sister being born and the noise tearing through the house. He leant over the pram and watched the little face get redder and redder.
He looked around.
He exhaled.
Then he leant forward and picked the squirming little bundle up. The wailing rebounding off his ear like an aeroplane engine. He suddenly realised that Wilf probably wasn’t asleep at all, just keeping his eyes tightly closed so he didn’t have this racket rolling round his head.
He nestled her into the crook of his arm like he used to do with his sister.
She was really tiny. All dressed in yellow.
He peered out the kitchen hatch to see that Annie had squatted down on the table and was checking to see what he was doing. He waved as if he had it all under control. Refusing to give her the satisfaction of another tell-off.
The noise was incessant. He winced again.
Fumbling around in the bag hanging from the pram handle he found a bottle and a carton of formula. What was the etiquette here? Could you just feed someone else’s baby without asking them? He looked up again through the hatch and saw Wilf’s mouth open as he snored gently. The kid was screaming. Annie was looking worried, like she’d have to come in and help if he didn’t sort this out pronto.
Tearing the carton and pouring it into the bottle he shook it once and then pop in the mouth, crying stopped. All the muscles in his body relaxed. He could feel the creases in his forehead iron out. The little prune guzzled away. He made a face of distaste at it then walked back into the café.
‘Ahh.’ Annie sighed from where she was standing on the top of the ladder, her arms above her head as she pressed another drawing pin into the ceiling to hold up a garland. ‘You look like an Athena poster.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Harry said, sliding back into the booth. ‘You want the baby?’ he asked her.
‘No, I’ve got decorations to hang. You know Athena posters? Black and white, bloke with no top on holding a baby? On teenagers’ walls?’
Harry shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
Annie raised her brows and looked away as if she’d tried hard enough with this guy and had more important things to deal with. ‘River, how are the trees going?’
Harry frowned. ‘Your name’s River?’ he asked the kid with the headphones.
‘Yeah,’ he said, glaring at him from behind a hot-pink tree. ‘What about it?’
‘Nothing. Just a crazy name.’
Matt, who was trying to fix a flashing reindeer to the wall, while clearly pretending he was less drunk than he actually was, glanced over at Harry and said, ‘We were young when we had him. I liked the river.’
‘Kudos to you,’ Harry said and looked back down to the baby sucking the bottle as if her life depended on it. ‘Willow and River. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a place called Cherry Pie Island.’
‘Are you mocking us?’ Annie asked.
‘Yes.’ Harry nodded.
‘Just because we don’t all live in New York City…’ She got cut off as the door opened and a brown-haired
