I let myself into the house, and was halfway across the hall when I stopped. It was the sharp, sweet scent of pine that got my attention; that and a certain tension in the atmosphere. Oh, and the tree trunk that was sticking out of the living room door.
“Um. Hello?” I said.
“Jess, is that you?” My aunt Tilly peered out from behind the tree, batting branches away from her face. She and my mother were identical twins, but I never confused them with one another; to me they looked totally different. “We’re all completely trapped in here, isn’t it ridiculous? Jack and Hugo managed to get the Christmas tree this far and no further, and now it’s stuck in the doorway. I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas?”
Standing on tiptoe, I could see that most of the family was in the living room. My youngest cousin, Tom, was balancing on the arm of the sofa, licking the jam off a piece of bread. Next in age was Petra, who was sitting on the floor, her dark, untidy head bent over a grubby tapestry she’d been working on for months. It was entirely like her to be getting on with her own task while chaos unfolded around her. Hugo, my older cousin, was sprawling in an armchair, looking tormented in a languid way, as if the entire situation was too much for him. Jack, my uncle, stood behind Tilly with his hands on his hips, looking as if he’d like to disown us all and use the tools on his work belt to reduce the tree to sawdust.
“Whose idea was this?” It seemed like a safe question to ask.
“I chose it.” Tilly bit her thumb, as close to shamefaced as she ever got. “It looked smaller when it was with all the others.”
“There was a label on it saying it was a ten-foot tree,” Jack said.
“I know, I saw it. So?”
“So you clearly don’t understand that a ten-foot tree is unlikely to fit through the doors. Just like last year.” Jack put his arms around Tilly and squeezed her, taking the sting out of his criticism. “I knew it was trouble when I went to collect it. And just like last year, we got it through the front door but came a cropper when we reached this point.”
“What did you do last year?” I asked.
“Jack hacked it to bits,” Tilly said.
He clutched his head, outraged. “I trimmed a bit off the sides. It was the only thing to do.”
“It looked terrible. Completely the wrong shape.” Tilly frowned at the tree. “I don’t want that to happen this year.”
“Then you should have bought a smaller tree.” Hugo sat up in his armchair. “Really, this is so boring. It won’t fit through the door as it is, Mum. You are going to have to cut it back to get it into the room.”
“Or you could set it up out here,” I suggested. “The hall is big enough. It could go by the stairs.”
Petra looked up from the tapestry, pushing her heavy fringe back. “It always goes in here.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” I said.
“Yes.” Jack grinned at me. “Finally, someone who understands logical thinking.”
Tilly sighed. “I was sure it would fit.”
“But it doesn’t.” Hugo unfolded himself and stretched, taking up an unfeasible amount of space as he did so. He had the wingspan of an albatross. “Let’s move it back.”
“You’ll damage it.” Tilly crouched down and put her arms over the tree protectively. “You can’t just shove it. All the little branches will snap off and I’ll have nowhere to hang the decorations. I know you, Hugo. You’ll pretend to be careful and then you’ll ruin it.”
“I won’t,” he protested.
“You don’t care about how the tree looks.”
“I do, but I also want to leave this room at some point in my life.” Hugo ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “Please let’s just move it and decorate it and have done with it. I’ve got things to do and Tom is hungry.”
Tilly looked perplexed. “How do you know?”
“He’s always hungry.”
Tom launched himself off the arm of the sofa and landed on the floor with a thud that shook the glass in the dusty old chandelier. “I am hungry, Mum.”
“Eat your bread and jam.”
“I did.”
Tilly closed her eyes for a moment. “All right. You can put the tree in the hall. But you’re not climbing out over it. You’ll have to go out the living room window.”
“Yay!” Tom scampered over and started undoing the locks with practiced ease.
“I thought that was banned,” Petra said. “Because of Tom falling out and breaking his arm.”
“This once, it’s all right.”
“But if there’s a rule—”
“Petra!” We all said it together.
“Sorry for asking.” Petra went back to her tapestry.
“So, why do we have to have such a big tree?” I asked.
“Because we have to fit those on it.” Tilly pointed at the stack of battered cardboard boxes that was occupying one corner of the big drafty hall.
“There are a million Christmas decorations in those boxes, and they all have to be on the tree or someone will complain,” Petra said.
“Who would even notice?”
“Everyone. We all have our favorites. You’ll see.”
What I mainly saw was that my Leonard cousins had a way of turning everything into a ritual that had to be observed in minute detail: you could have the yellow jug at breakfast but never at tea, and family birthdays had to be celebrated for a full week, and whoever got up last on Saturday morning got stuck with doing the dishes for the rest of the week. Every day there were new rules and traditions to learn, new family words to adopt, new in-jokes and favorites and grievances. I hadn’t grown up with siblings and I sometimes felt like a castaway learning how to live with a strange tribe on a distant island where I’d washed ashore. There were times when I felt uncomfortably aware that I was a Tennant, not a Leonard. My dad’s side—logical, cynical, practical, stubborn—ruled my head, even though I longed with all my heart to belong to my mother’s family.
Tom and Hugo sauntered into the hall behind me, followed by Jack and Petra, who had abandoned her tapestry for the time being. Mum came out of the kitchen, looking tired, but she smiled when she saw me. I felt a huge surge or relief that she was at home after all, safe from my father’s attentions, and Dan’s.
I put my arms around her. “Good day?”
She’d been working at the Christmas market, running a stall for the gallery that was her main source of income. “It was busy. And cold. Are you helping on the stall tomorrow?”
I’d promised to, I remembered. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Wear thermals,” Mum whispered, and gave me another hug.
Hugo tripped and swore. “If you’re going to bring half the garden into the house, Mum, the least you could do is put it somewhere well-lit.”
“Sorry,” Tilly said. “I wanted to cut the holly and ivy before it got dark.”
Hugo was crouching down beside the heap of greenery. He looked up, his cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself on them. “All this holly and ivy, and no mistletoe.”
“We didn’t have any in the garden.”
“It’s the most important thing. Isn’t it, Jess?” He grinned slyly. “Especially since I hear Will is back in town.”
“Don’t be a creep, Hugo,” I said. He was always trying to get a reaction from me, which I took as a sign of affection. He’d added me to his list of legitimate targets as soon as he’d decided I was family.
He widened his eyes, all innocence. “It’s not for my benefit.”
“I should hope not, since Ella’s in London.” Ella was my best friend and Hugo’s girlfriend, a fact that made my head spin slightly. Hugo had been edgier than usual since she left Port Sentinel. Since Hugo was edgy at the best of times, that didn’t make life easy for the rest of us.
“I’d never cheat on Ella,” he said flatly. “I’m thinking of you and Will.”
“Well, stop,” I snapped. The wind blew the front door back against the wall, catching loose holly leaves and sending them skittering across the tiles like mice, and a voice came from behind them.
“Yes, stop.”
I turned, along with everyone else in the hall, and looked at the tall figure standing in the doorway. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Clear gray eyes that were currently narrow with amusement.
“Will…” I said it on a breath and it was barely audible.
“You’re back! That’s so … nice!” Petra was rather unsuccessfully trying to hide her crush on Will, a crush that predated my arrival in Port Sentinel by many years.
“You get more grown up every time I see you.” Tilly beamed at him with maternal pride.
“Oh, good. You can help with the tree.” Jack, pure practicality, as usual.
“Now that Will’s here, is it time for dinner?” Tom, inevitably.
“Speak of the devil.” The last contribution was from Hugo, who crossed the hall and pulled him into a hug. Partners in crime, inseparables, friends above all, through everything—it made me jealous to see how close Will and Hugo were. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you.” Will worked his way round the hall, doling out hugs and kisses on cheeks and a brief ruffle of Tom’s hair. I saw Mum’s face when he bent to kiss her cheek; there was something sad in her eyes. Of course, Will reminded her of his father at the same age. I just hoped we weren’t doomed to repeat our parents’ ill-starred relationship. He went past me without even glancing in my direction. I stepped up onto the bottom tread of the stairs and leaned my head against the newel post. This was his first visit to Sandhayes since he’d got back and he’d known the Leonards for a very long time. He was closer to them than to his own parents. In a very real sense, they were his family. So of course he had to concentrate on them, and not on me. But it made the doubt prickle under my skin again.
And then he turned away from Jack and came straight toward me, the compass needle to true North. Because I was on the step, my face was almost at the same level as his.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi, yourself.”
“I didn’t think you were coming back for ages.”
He grinned. “I wanted to surprise you.” Then his mouth was on mine. I slid my arms around his neck, ignoring a sigh from Petra and a snort of derision from Hugo and retching sounds from Tom as his father cuffed him round the head.
Obviously I wasn’t able to ignore them completely. But I gave it my best shot.
“Break it up. Come on.” Hugo sounded bored. “Do I have to get the hose out?”
“You were the one worrying about the mistletoe,” I broke off to point out.
“I’m glad there was no need.” You could have etched a picture with the acid in Hugo’s voice.
“Hugo, come and help me. Now.” Even Hugo couldn’t ignore his father when he spoke that firmly. He did as he was told.
“Right,” Jack said, looking around. “We’re going to move this tree now. We’re all going to work together.”
“I’m in charge,” Tilly said.
“No, I’m in charge.” Jack grinned. “You got it stuck in the doorway, darling, remember?”
Tilly stuck her tongue out at him.
“We’re going to lift it, draw it backward until the top is clear of the doorframe, tilt it and land it there.” He pointed at the stand that was now in position beside the stairs. “Simple.”
For the next few minutes we heaved and staggered and struggled with the tree. Hugo swore cheerfully the whole time, much to Tom’s delight and Jack’s annoyance. I narrowly avoided getting blinded in one eye. The tree was a monster, a bristling, heavy heap of prickles and whippy branches that slid through your hands to cause maximum damage.
“God almighty, I’ve got pine needles in my mouth.” Hugo turned his head and tried to spit them out.
“It might be an idea if you kept your mouth closed, Hugo,” his father snapped.
“Mmmph. Blech.” Hugo was making retching noises as we lifted the tree into the stand.
“That’s it! Don’t move … don’t move … All right, now lower it. Just keep it straight. Straight, Hugo.” Jack threw himself down on the floor to tighten the screws that held the tree in place. “Don’t let go, anyone, or it will just fall over.”
My arms were aching and my hair was in my eyes. Will leaned out and pulled a face at me and I felt reassured, suddenly. Everything was going to be all right. Why wouldn’t it be?
From under the tree, Jack called, “Right. Done. Let go and move back, everyone.”
“What if it falls on you?” Mum asked.
“It won’t.”
Tilly scampered to the other side of the hall. “It’s not straight.”
“I don’t care,” her husband said pleasantly.
“It needs to move two feet that way.”
Jack was still invisible under the tree. “Which way is ‘that way?’”
“Left,” Tilly said, pointing to the right.
“Does she mean right?”
“Yes,” we chorused.
Will and Hugo helped Jack to shift the enormous tree into the perfect position as Tilly stood with her head on one side, considering it.
“I can’t think why we’ve never had the tree in the hall before.”
“Because it’s not how you do things in Sandhayes,” I said. “And that’s what matters.”
“You’re learning.” Jack wriggled backward to get out from under the tree. “It took me a good five years to work that out when I married Tilly.”
“You’ve always been a slow learner.” Tilly tapped her fingers on her cheek, distracted. “What did I do with the lights last year?”
“Put them in the box marked ‘lights?’” I suggested.
“No, that’s glass trinkets.” Petra was already grinning.
“Well, what’s in the box marked ‘glass trinkets?’”
“Angels.”
“Angels,” I repeated. “So obviously the box marked ‘angels’ is…”
“I can’t remember…” Tilly’s face cleared. “I know. Decorated pinecones. Hugo and Freya made them when they were five or six.”
“This is going to drive me insane, isn’t it?”
“It’s best not to worry too much about the details.” Will had moved to stand behind me, his hands on my waist, holding me close to him. I leaned against him, my stomach turning somersaults just because he was holding me. It was hard to think about anything else—even the question of Gilly’s whereabouts had faded to a distant niggle in the back of my mind. All around us the Leonards were squabbling, searching through boxes or fiddling with the tree. No one was paying any attention to us. No one would notice if we slipped away.
As if he was able to hear what I was thinking, Will whispered one word in my ear: “Upstairs?”
I nodded, and the two of us melted away into the shadows, running up the stairs on silent feet, and if everyone knew we’d gone, no one said anything. I opened the door to my bedroom and turned to say something to him, and he caught hold of me, laughing under his breath as he did so, and I felt it vibrate through my bones and shiver in the ends of my hair and tingle across my skin as he kissed me. Every atom in my body was floating, spinning, like countless tiny stars of happiness.
We broke apart eventually, because humans need to do things like breathe and blink and stare at one another’s faces to learn them all over again. I was recalculating the precise angle of Will’s left eyebrow when he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“What were you saying?”
“I have no idea.” I shut my eyes again for a second, trying to reset my brain. “Right, it’s coming back to me now. When did you get back?”
“Just now.”
“But your dad said—”
“Dad?” Will frowned, looking exactly like his father. “When did you see him?”
“He drove me home from town.”
“Why?”
“Who knows why your dad does anything?”
“To make trouble,” Will said grimly. “You know he hates us being together.”
“I do.” I shrugged. “Usually parents like me. I don’t really understand what his problem is.”
“It’s not about you. It’s me. He can’t stand to see me succeed where he failed.”
“But I’m not my mum.”
“And I’m not my dad.” A muscle flickered in Will’s jaw. “If he didn’t think he owned me, he might realize that.”
I leaned back, safe in the circle of his arms. “Anyway, you’re back now.”
His face cleared. “Until the new year.”
“You realize that will be the longest we’ve ever spent together? As a couple, I mean?”
“Yes.” He ran his thumb down my cheek and across my lower lip. “I can’t wait.”
We really didn’t miss the mistletoe at all.