‘He likes you,’ Tom said.
‘The feeling’s mutual,’ I replied, keeping my eyes firmly on my lap in the hope that Tom wouldn’t notice my compliment-induced redness. ‘So he comes out every year for Christmas, then?’
‘Yeah, he’s got a special little perch for the rest of the month. May I?’ Tom reached out for Marmalade so I passed him over gently. Tom, in turn, placed his beloved toy among the branches of the unlit artificial spruce, facing outwards so his sweet, skew-whiff face could be admired by anyone who gazed at the tree.
‘There you go, Marmy, back in your favourite spot for another Christmas,’ said Jo, her face somehow aglow with delight as she gazed misty-eyed at her son’s stuffed animal on the tree. Objectively, if you were an alien landing on earth for the first time witnessing this scene without any context, the whole thing would appear to be totally bizarre. But, there and then, all I felt in that room was love and magic. And my own eyes suddenly felt dangerously hot with liquid.
‘He looks right at home,’ I said, blinking all the wetness away before anyone noticed.
‘Well, heishome!’ Jo exclaimed, absorbing the dampness from her eyelashes with a tissue. ‘We don’t bother with tinsel or Christmas baubles here these days; we just put all our Christmas memories on the tree, don’t we, Thomas?’
‘Yep, our micro-family tradition.’
My eyes burnt once more. What the hell was coming over me?Just keep talking and stop feeling, Mally.
‘What else is in the suitcase, if you don’t mind me asking?’
Tom nudged the suitcase towards me with his foot.
‘Go for your life. It’s mainly Christmas stuff I made when I was a kid. Just tat, basically. But special tat, you know?’
‘Yeah,’ I murmured absentmindedly, since my attention was entirely absorbed by the treasure trove at my feet. The suitcase didn’t contain any of the usual superficial sparkly things that most people would decorate their Christmas trees with. Instead, it contained precious memories of a childhood joyfully lived.
As I carefully removed each hand-made decoration from the suitcase, Tom and Jo shared a brief history of its significance before it was placed on the tree with Marmalade. Before I knew it, every branch was full, including the protruding one at the top that now featured a disintegrating toilet roll flanked by two flaps of tracing paper that had once been an angel that Tom had made in Sunday school when he was five.
‘There!’ Jo proclaimed. ‘The best one yet, I reckon. Just one thing left! Thomas, could you…?’ Before she’d even finished the sentence, Tom had walked over to the doorway and switched off the big light. Jo turned to me, a silhouette outlined in orange by the glow from the streetlights that seeped into the room through the net curtains.
‘Go on, Mally – you do the honours.’
‘Oh, gosh, no I couldn’t—’
Jo reached over and squeezed my arm. ‘Please, love, it would make my year.’
‘Okay. Erm, Tom, where’s the switch?’
Tom guided me to the plug socket using the torch on his phone.
‘Right, then. Here goes. Three, two, one…’
At the click, the tree came to life. All the colours, all the memories, all the love. All that was special about Christmas was, somehow, right there, in an unsuspecting corner of this small Scarnbrook bungalow, lit up with the simplest string of fairy lights.
And right in the centre of it all was lovely little Marmalade. Wonky, imperfect and defective, but adored by everyone, regardless. Perhaps with the exception of Chippie.
Chapter 10
?Awkward farewell
We stayed at Tom’s mum’s place for another hour or so after the treehad been fully adorned and illuminated. But the start ofAntiquesRoadshow– which Jo said she watched every week in the hope thatshe’d spot something from one of her many collections – gave us anatural moment to leave.
‘Could you remind me where we’re heading?’ Tom asked, as he fastened his seatbelt.
‘Sure, here you go, Tom. Or should that be Thomas?’ I handed him my phone with the postcode.
‘You know, she’s never called me Tom in her entire life.’ He checked my phone and chuckled. ‘You’re staying right next to The Star! Think I can manage to find my way there – not been for a while, mind. Have you been in to say hello?’
I didn’t tell him that I’d only arrived earlier that evening, or ask why he thought it’d be appropriate for me to announce myself to a drinking establishment I hadn’t stepped foot in since body glitter was all the rage. Anything to give off the air of someone who knew precisely what they were doing here. Which, I was beginning to realise, I absolutely didn’t.
‘Umm, not yet. But I’m heading there for dinner tomorrow night.’
