Chapter 19

Dear Santa,

Can I have a dinosaur for Christmas? We’ve got a garden for it to play in and I’ll take it for a walk every day.

From,

Marie

When I wake up on Christmas morning, Tav’s asleep beside me, and I lie there for a while, appreciating the softness of his breathing, the warmth of his skin, and the weight of his arm draped across me. We stayed in a spare bedroom in Dad’s house last night, and at Dad’s insistence, we left some sweet rice porridge with a knob of butter out for the nisse and hung our empty stockings above the hearth.

I feel like a child again as I slip out from under Tav’s arm and creep down the stairs, and even though I know there aren’t really porridge-eating elves who stop by on festive nights, I still squeal in delight when I find the empty bowl on a table by the fireplace, and a set of sparkly footprints leading to the tree, made from stencils and spray snow.

‘They were pleased with the offering then?’ Tav appears in the living room doorway, leaning against the doorframe with an adorably dishevelled “just woken up” look.

‘You can’t honestly think …’

‘Can’t I?’ He gives me a wink and then yawns and rubs a hand over his eyes. ‘You made it for them last night.’

‘I was keeping Dad happy.’

‘Or you want them to be real … You want to believe in— Hold that thought.’ He disappears into the hallway and the front door opens as he sticks his head out and then comes back, beckoning me to follow.

‘I’m told something that’s important to Brits is a white Christmas.’ He throws the front door open again.

I squeal. ‘It’s snowing! On Christmas Day!’

I’ve gone right back to being a child here. I always used to wish it snowed on Christmas Day. Dad nicknamed me Bing one year because I was always singing Mr Crosby’s most famous song.

I barely have time to shove my feet into the snow-boots by the door as I dash outside, stamping them down until they’re on properly. Tav’s laughing as he follows me out, clearly indulging the Brit who’s never had snow at Christmas before.

I spin around with my arms thrown wide and try to catch snowflakes on my tongue. This is not the sleety rain we have in Britain. These are huge, flat, fluffy flakes, like someone’s tipping a bucket full of bunnies’ tails onto us and I have to look up to make sure someone isn’t on the roof with a snow machine because it’s too perfect to be real.

It’s too early for daylight yet, but the streetlamps illuminate each falling flake, and when I’ve caught a few more and watched them melt in my rapidly freezing hands, I look back at Tav, who’s standing at the top of the wooden steps outside the house, his eyes shining with amusement as he watches me.

There’s something so intimate and relaxed about seeing him out here in his pyjamas, thermal layers on under a plain sage green T-shirt and tartan-patterned wide jersey bottoms, unevenly shoved into his own boots.

I grin at him and do the same “come hither” gesture he did earlier and he’s smiling as he pushes himself off the post he was leaning on and steps onto the road, his legs long enough to avoid the steps altogether.

I grab his hand and make him spin in overexcited circles with me, and then I can’t keep my hands off him as they rub up and down his arms, brushing snow off his top, knowing we can’t stay out here for long because we’re not wrapped up well enough.

His hands hold my waist and he lifts me up, holding me high and then lowering me down until I can wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he pulls me tight against him, spinning us both around as the snowflakes fall.

I press a kiss into his neck and he uses his chin to nudge my head up until our lips can meet.

My mouth crushes against his, surrounded by the scent of his shampoo blending with ice-covered pine branches and the crisp scent of freshly fallen snow. I lose myself in him for long minutes, his closeness warm enough to shut out the Arctic chill.

If kissing in the snow isn’t the epitome of winter romance, then I don’t know what is. I could very well have stumbled onto a movie set. It’s the most perfect Christmas Day ever and it’s only 8 a.m.

‘Ho ho ho, Santa’s glad to see his favourite elves having fun.’ There’s the sound of footsteps and hooves on snow and Tav puts me down when we see Dad heading up the road towards us, still dressed in full Santa gear, and leading Rudolph-slash-Clive, who comes across and hoovers over me, and then huffs, disappointed by the general lack of lichen pockets in traditional pyjamas.

Dad tugs his harness and offers him a consolatory snuffle of food pellets from his hand. ‘Thought he could do with a bit of exercise and manly companionship. His new missus has taken an unfortunate liking to Pedro Pascal.’

‘Where on earth have you been at this time of day?’ I ask.

‘Around the world, of course. It was Christmas Eve. My busiest night of the year.’

‘Dad, you’re not actually Santa.’

Tav laughs. ‘He’s been out for his early morning walk, Sash. He’s just winding you up.’

‘Of course I am.’ Dad offers me a wink. ‘Or am I? All I’m saying is you’ve never seen me and Santa in the same room together …’

‘That’s because Santa isn’t—’

Dad cuts me off by tugging the reindeer between me and Tav, making me jump aside to accommodate his single antler.

‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,’ he calls as he walks back towards the reindeer stables, “ho-ho-ho-ing”. ‘Get some hot chocolate on, will you? Santa’s had a hectic night!’

‘Now you’re here for good, you’ll have to take charge of him.’

‘Dad?’ I snort. ‘It’s a grand idea, but good luck in trying.’

Tav laughs. ‘The reindeer. He likes you.’

‘I like him. I like quite a few things around this place.’

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. His hair falls forward and he doesn’t take his eyes off mine, the intensity in them so hot that’s it’s completely at odds with the snow falling around us.

‘Can I ask you something?’ He holds my hand against his face, my fingers tingling with the soft prickle of his stubble. ‘Have you checked the wishing jar?’

‘I keep forgetting.’

‘Can I run up and get it?’

I rub my arms in an attempt to warm up as I watch Tav easily navigate the hill up to my cabin, and when he comes back and deposits it and the tiny key in my hand, it doesn’t look tampered with. I unlock it and pull out the piece of paper. It’s blank.

‘Okay, how did you do it? I know this is trickery, and it’s very sweet, but now I’m going to be working here, you have to let me in on all your secrets.’

‘All I want to know is what it said.’ He clearly isn’t going to elaborate on any tricks of the trade.

‘A happy family Christmas.’ I look up and meet his eyes. ‘It’s come true from the moment I arrived, Tav. I know Christmases can never be as they were again, but this is the closest I’ve ever had. Something has felt different this year. Special.’

He encloses me in his arms again, wrapping around me completely, and I hug him back, still grasping the wishing jar in one hand.

‘Right, one good old-fashioned family fun day coming right up.’

‘Chevy Chase isn’t about to turn up with a tree on the car roof, is he?’

He laughs. ‘No, but Christmas movies are a good place to start. I know Christmas Day is your big celebration, but it’s a quiet day here, for family. Some cooking, eating, reading … Sitting around in the warm house with the Christmas lights on, doing absolutely nothing but enjoying the cosiness with the people you love most.’

‘Sounds perfect.’

He reluctantly unfurls himself from around me, but I pull him back when he starts towards the house. ‘Thank you.’

‘What for?’

I consider it for a moment. ‘Letting me in.’

He beams like he physically can’t stop himself. ‘Thank you for stepping outside your comfort zone. Well, flying, dog sledding, and reindeer-sleigh-riding outside of your comfort zone. It’s inadequate to say I’m really glad you did, but I’m really glad you did.’

‘You sure you don’t mind sharing your North Pole Forest with me?’

‘You’ve given it back its heart. I’d got lost with it, lost what it meant to me, what my goal was when I started. You’ve reminded me of that. It wouldn’t be the North Pole Forest without you.’

I melt into his arms again and we stand there cuddling as the snow coming down gets heavier.

‘You know it’s freezing, right?’ he whispers against the top of my head, his stubble soft against my hair.

I laugh like I somehow hadn’t noticed. ‘I know. Just enjoying the best Christmas ever for a moment longer. It only comes once a year.’

‘It’s the first of many.’

I laugh because he makes me feel more important and more loved than I’ve ever been, and when you make a Christmas wish, who knows, maybe someone does listen and somewhere in a distant forest that twinkles with Christmas magic, it really does come true.

Gripped by The Post Box at the North Pole? Don’t miss The Little Christmas Shop on Nutcracker Lane, another unputdownable novel from Jaimie Admans. Available now!

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