Holly's Christmas Kiss (9 page)

‘Are we allowed through here?’ Michelle had stopped at the gate.

‘Course. It’s my land.’ Sean walked back to the gate and held out his hand to help Michelle climb over. She didn’t take it, managing to get over on her own.

‘Well your parents’ land.’

‘No. Mine.’ He carried on along the track beyond the gate before turning to climb a second gate on the right into a field. Again, Michelle refused his help.

He stopped at the edge of the field. ‘Look.’

‘Wow!’

She couldn’t stop the exclamation escaping her lips. Even for a Christmas non-believer, the sight in front of her was breathtaking. Stretched out across the field was row upon row of miniature Christmas trees, waist high, all covered in a dusting of white snow.

‘These are for next year.’

‘You farm Christmas trees?’

Sean nodded, smiling broadly. ‘Dad started it as a sort of sideline to the farm. Locals could come and pick their own tree. When I took over I turned the whole thing over to trees.’

‘Seriously? You make Christmas trees?’

‘Grow Christmas trees.’

Michelle pulled a face. ‘You know what I mean.’

Sean nodded. ‘We’ve got a bigger growing site over by Loch Lomond. Most of these we still sell locally. The main site’s for trade, garden centres, local councils, hotels, that kind of thing.’

‘So you actually make your living out of Christmas?’

‘I own another nursery, and a tenanted farm the other side of Edinburgh. Not good business to have all your eggs in one basket, but yeah. Christmas trees are my main thing.’

‘But you still love it?’

Sean looked confused. ‘Wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love it.’

‘Don’t you get sick of all the Christmas?’

Sean shook his head. ‘Never. Why do you hate Christmas so much?’

She shrugged. It wasn’t a question she wanted to answer. It was a joke amongst her friends and colleague
s–
the idea that she was a bit of a Scrooge. She went along with the jokes to avoid anyone asking her the question too seriously.

‘What was Christmas like when you were a kid?’

She kept her eyes fixed forwards, looking out towards the field. ‘Depends when you mean exactly.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My dad was insane about Christmas. Always made a massive deal of it. He was Santa for this big department store every year. Properly obsessed with Christmas.’

‘Cool.’

‘Maybe.’ Michelle paused. She didn’t usually talk about her dad, but this felt different. She was far away from home, and Sean was easy somehow. Even with all the question marks in her head, when she was alone with him things felt safe. And anyway, she’d promised him forty-eight hours. What did it matter what you said to somebody you were never going to see again?

‘I remember sitting on my
dad’s knee when he was all dressed up as Santa. I knew it was him, but it didn’t matter. It felt like magic.’

Sean nodded. ‘That’s the point of Christmas. You can know it’s all tinsel and costumes and a dead tree, and still love the magic.’

‘Maybe.’

‘So what about the other times?’

‘What?’

‘You said Christmas depended on when it was.’

Michelle nodded. ‘I told you about their break up, Mum and Dad. Mum kind of avoided Christmas after that.’ Thinking of her mum, Michelle suddenly felt disloyal. Her mum had been there for her right through the year. Christmas was just one day.

‘And she was right. Do you know how much the average adult spends on Christmas every year?’

Sean shook his head.

‘I do. £592. That’s nearly £29billion across the country. It’s insane.’

‘But it’s not about the money. It’s about family and getting together and that feeling of …’ Sean dried up for a second. ‘That feeling of anticipation, of hope. Don’t pretend you don’t understand that.’

‘It’s a commercialised excuse to overspend. Anyway, it’s for kids really, isn’t it?’

Sean wasn’t having that. ‘I saw your face.’

‘When?’

‘When you saw all this, the trees and the snow, and when you were talking about your dad and the magic.’

‘This is quite pretty.’

‘It’s not just pretty. It’s Christmas. We’re standing in a field, in the freezing cold, and you gasped because it’s Christmas.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Do you still talk to your dad?’

Michelle shook her head. ‘He’s got my number. He texted to say Merry Christmas.’

‘You should ring him.’

Another shake of the head.

‘Why not?’

‘Too much water under the bridge.’ Christmas or not, she didn’t want to play at happy families.

‘When did you last talk to him?’

She shrugged. ‘I e-mailed him when Mum died. I thought he ought to know.’

‘Did he come to the funeral?’

‘I didn’t invite him.’

‘Ok. Look, it’s Christmas. It’s about family. A two minute call couldn’t hurt.’

‘I don’t have signal.’

‘No excuses. Does he Skype?’

‘I don’t know.’ She paused, realising that Sean wasn’t going to let this drop, and that she didn’t want him to let it drop. It was an odd feeling. Someone else was taking care of her. That was what Sean was doing. Picking her up at the airport, taking her to the Christmas fa
ir, getting her to talk about her family –  they were all the acts of a man who was thinking about what might be best for her. She pulled her phone from her pocket.

‘I thought you didn’t have signal.’

She scrolled back through her phone and found the message she was looking for. ‘He sent me his Skype name though.’

‘Come on then.’

Ten minutes later she was sitting in front of the computer in Sean’s office, downstairs in a newer extension to the family home.

‘I’m not sure about this.’

Sean shrugged. ‘It’s two minutes out of your life.’

‘He’s probably not even online.’

He was online.

Michelle waited as the image came up on the screen, and Sean adjusted the speakers so she could hear properly.

‘Holly!’ Her father was, as always, in his Santa costume. If he was surprised to hear from her after such a long time, it was hard to tell under the thick white beard and the Father Christmas hat, but she saw him turn and gesture to someone out of sight of the camera. ‘It’s Holly!’

He turned back to face the screen. ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’

‘Hi, Dad.’

In the background she could see other figures moving around, her half-brothers, tall gangling teenagers now, not the snotty kids she remembered.

Behind her she heard Sean stifling a chuckle.

The image on the screen was of Santa’s grotto packed into a terraced house in Bradford. There were lights, dancing Santas, illuminated reindeer, inflatable snowmen, tinsel, so much tinsel, all jammed into the tiny living room. Another figure came into the shot.

‘Holly!’ The woman was clearly in her late forties, but dressed, apparently without embarrassment, as an elf. The Elf. ‘Happy Christmas!’

‘Happy Christmas, Sandra.’ Michelle forced the words out through clenched lips.

Her father took over the conversation, eagerly telling her about their family Christmas. Michelle listened.

Her father paused. ‘You know you’re always very welcome here, don’t you?’

Michelle nodded. He’d always been clear about that. He’d never tried to make her pick sides, but that is what she’d done. She’d chosen to be Tanya’s daughter.

‘And your mother, I didn’t know if you’d want me to come …’ He looked away. ‘I am sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ It was all Michelle dared say.

‘Good.’ He looked smaller somehow.

Michelle pushed a smile onto her face. ‘Well I’d better get on. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas.’

‘Thank you
, pet. I appreciate it. I do.’ He paused. ‘Maybe in the New Year you could come for a visit?’

She gave a tiny nod. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and that was more than they’d had before. Michelle could feel herself starting to tear up. She took a breath.

‘Ok. Better get going.’ She clicked the disconnect button quickly before Sean saw her get any mushier.

‘Woah.’ She was still staring at the screen when the voice behind her cut in.

‘What?’

‘They really go for it with the Christmas decorations.’

‘You don’t know the half of it.’

Sean swung himself onto the desk in front of her. ‘Tell me.’

Michelle turned to face him. There didn’t seem much point lying about it now.

‘The decorations aren’t because it’s Christmas.’

‘What?’

‘He has it like that all the time.’

Sean’s face convulsed as he tried not to snigger, turning redder and redder until his eyes watered, and he gave up under the pressure. A gale of laughter shook his whole body. ‘You’re kidding?’

She shook her head. ‘He wasn’t as bad when I was little, but after they split up it got more and more and more.’

‘Wow! That must have been brilliant when you were a kid. Christmas all the time!’

‘It was mortifying. I could never take a friend there. And my
mum hated it.’

‘Fair enough, but you’re not your mum.’ Sean stepped towards her. ‘I mean, it’s bonkers, but it is kind of fun.’

‘I guess.’

‘Do you know why they split up?’

Michelle nodded. ‘He had an affair with the elf.’

Another torrent of laughter. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Well, men have affairs with their secretaries all the time. His job was being Santa, so he had an affair with his elf.’

‘Right.’

Michelle sighed. ‘I guess they probably are better suited really.’

‘Wow.’ Sean shook his head. ‘Your
dad is a bit mad.’

‘Yeah.’ Michelle looked up at Sean. Her
dad was mad. That was her shame, but Sean didn’t seem horrified at all. She stood up and stepped towards him. Maybe Christmas was getting to her. ‘Thank you.’

‘What for?’ His voice was quieter than normal, less certain.

‘For persuading me to call him. And for letting me stay.’

‘It’s
Ok.’ Sean grinned. ‘One more thing though?’

‘What?’ She could see the beginnings of more laughter in his eyes.

‘Holly? They called you Holly.’

Now she could feel her cheeks reddening. ‘It’s my real first name.’

‘And I’m guessing your dad picked it.’

She nodded. ‘I hate it.’

‘Why?’

‘Jolly Holly! Prickly Holly! You must have been born at Christmas! Every boy wants a bit of Holly at Christmas!’ She recited the familiar jibes from her youth. ‘I could go on.’

‘I like it.’

She shrugged.

‘It’s part of you.’ Sean smiled. ‘You can’t change who you are.’

Maybe not, but for the first time in many years, Michelle thought maybe you could. Maybe you could be braver. Maybe you could take more chances. Maybe you could put what you wanted first. She took another step towards him. Sean stayed stock still, leaning on the wall behind the desk, watching her, breathing deep and slow. Michelle balled up her courage and took the final step, letting her fingertips move across his stomach. She felt his body tense. She tilted her face towards him and let her lips brush against his.

Relief flooded through her as he responded. Strong, safe arms encircled her and pulled her tight against his body.

Sean’s tongue pushed against her mouth and she parted her lips, responding hungrily, instinctively to the feel and taste of him. His hand moved downwards and tugged at her jumper. Michelle raised her arms from around his neck and moved her body away from him a fraction, just enough for him to start to undress her. Sean flung the jumper to the corner of the room and wrapped her back into his arms. Michelle needed more. Lip against lip was intoxicating. She needed skin against skin. She pulled at his shirt, fumbling with buttons until he dragged it roughly over his head. She ran her fingers over his skin, feeling every hair, every bump through her fingertips. Her lips brushed his chest and she heard him sigh in response. She moved to his belt. Sean’s hand clasped her wrist, slowing and stopping her.

She glanced up.

‘Are you sure?’

She nodded.

Sean breathed deeply. ‘We should probably talk …’

Michelle shook her head.

Sean closed his eyes for a second. ‘I wanted to tell you about …’

She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think about what the problems might be. Something was opening up inside her that she couldn’t bear to see shut down. She needed to be close to him. ‘Later.’

He nodded, and then all at once he was in control. He moved hungrily, desperately, in perfect time with her. They wrenched and tugged the rest of the clothes off each other’s bodies, constantly touching and kissing, celebrating each new inch of undiscovered skin.