I stared out of the car window at the end cottage, lit up with Christmas decorations, and clocked the ‘Santa Stop Here!’ sign sticking out of the front lawn.
I wasn’t Santa. I wasn’t compelled to stop here. Right?
“I’m just saying, we could totally turn the car round and drive back home now. Claim we got stuck in the snow.”
Mum responded to my perfectly valid and sensible suggestion with a snort that drowned out the Christmas music playing on the car radio. “Snow? Heather, it’s barely drizzling.”
“There’s ice in it though, look.” I pointed at a melting drop of sleet on the windscreen.
“I hardly think your dad would believe this miserable excuse for winter weather stopped us driving twenty-five miles to his new house.”
“Tamsin’s house,” I corrected her. Dad’s house was still technically our house. Our warm, cosy, familiar house in the city. Tamsin’s cottage in the middle of nowhere was an unknown quantity. I mean, I’d only met Dad’s new girlfriend twice.
Fiancée, my brain corrected me. She wasn’t just his girlfriend now. They were engaged. Never mind that Mum and Dad’s divorce was barely final. Dad had moved on. There was flashy jewellery to prove it.
“We’ve been spotted, anyway.” Mum nodded towards the cluster of trees at the end of the row of three joined cottages, where a boy about my age held an axe over his shoulder as he watched our car. He had dark hair, curling too long over his ears, and an angry frown creased his forehead, like he didn’t want me there either. Which was weird, because I had no idea who he was.
As I stared back, he turned away, slamming the axe down on to the log waiting below. Chopping firewood. Was that really a thing out here in the country?
“Is he one of your new step-siblings-to-be?” Mum asked.
More people I’d only met once or twice who were now apparently part of my family. I shook my head. “I think he belongs to one of the other cottages.”
The boy disappeared into the middle cottage, firewood in his arms. His house looked bare and dark compared to Tamsin’s, which was lit up like, well, a Christmas tree, with icicle lights hung from the windows. The middle cottage, on the other hand, had only a tattered green wreath on the door the boy had slammed behind him. The third cottage had a SOLD sign outside and looked empty.
Tamsin’s front door opened, the bright light from inside illuminating the grey afternoon. Dad appeared on the doorstep, complete with comedy Santa hat, beaming at me as he waved.
“We could claim there was an emergency and we had to leave,” I suggested. “Quick, get your phone out. Make it look like someone’s calling with tragic news.”
Mum sighed. “Heather. Come on. We talked about this. I know it’s going to be a little strange—”
“Properly weird,” I corrected.
“Spending Christmas with your dad and Tamsin. It’s going to be strange for me, too, not having you there at Granny and Granddad’s tomorrow.”
“So let’s make a run for it! I’d rather be with you anyway.”
Mum pulled a guilty face at that, but it was true.
I didn’t hate my dad – not like Lily hated her dad after he ran off with our maths teacher, Mrs Fletcher, and her mum had a mini-breakdown – I just didn’t want a new family. I wanted my old one back.
Mum and I had done presents and turkey and stupid paper hats the day before, but it hadn’t felt real. How could it? It was a fake Christmas so I could pretend I didn’t have to spend the real one with my fake family.
“I’ll see you in a few days, love.” Mum gave me a quick hug and a kiss, and tried to smile. I didn’t bother.
“See you, then,” I said, pulling the door handle.
“I love you,” Mum called after me, and I paused, swallowing hard as I nodded to show her I’d heard. I couldn’t say it back. My throat felt too tight.
“My Heather-bear! You’re here!” Dad stepped forward, the bobble of his Santa hat swaying in the breeze, his arms open wide.
Behind me, I heard Mum’s car pull away. I was officially stranded.
“I’m here,” I said, smiling weakly.
“Come on in, come in.” Dad waved excitedly towards the front door. “Everyone is so pleased to have you here!”
I wondered if that was true. Dad was, obviously. But what about the family I was invading? I knew Tamsin’s sons wished I wasn’t going to be there – I’d heard them whining about it when Dad had called to arrange my visit. He’d hurried into another room pretty quickly, but it hadn’t been fast enough.
I hadn’t been able to make out Tamsin’s response to their whining, but I could imagine it. I had to be there to keep Dad happy. That was it. No one else wanted me there – it was all a show for Dad. So he could be their dad now.
Tamsin’s house smelled of freshly baked cookies, cinnamon and pine needles – quintessential Christmas – but it still didn’t smell quite right to me. Like it was a smell from a bottle, sprayed around to convince me everything was perfect. Except there were actual homemade cookies on the plate in Tamsin’s hand as she walked out of the kitchen, beaming. And the huge tree in the hallway looked real, too.
“Heather!” She put the plate down on the hall table, in between a bowl of cinnamon sticks and pine cones and a festive silver stag decoration, then wrapped her arms around me in a hug. I returned it half-heartedly. “We’re all so happy you’re here!”
She stepped back again. Her smile reached her eyes and everything, but I knew it was only because it made Dad happy to have me there.
I’d heard her, too, the first time we’d met, when she thought I wasn’t listening. She’d asked my dad if I was OK, if I was always so miserable. As if life as I knew it falling apart wasn’t reason enough to be a little unhappy. Besides, not everyone had a permanent smile as their default expression, like her. Both times I’d met her she’d smiled constantly. It was exhausting.
“Thank you for having me,” I mumbled, because I knew Mum would want me to. What I really wanted to say would probably get me thrown out.
“Would you like a cookie?” Tamsin asked, and I struggled to muster up a smile of my own.
“That would be lovely,” I said, choosing the one with the most chocolate chips.
At least if my mouth was full I couldn’t say anything bad.
Dad took my bag to the spare room, which was all the way up in the attic. At least the cinnamon fug probably wouldn’t reach that far. It was giving me a headache.
I watched him head up the stairs and, as he went, a thunder of feet came in the opposite direction. Swallowing my cookie, I braced myself for the step-sibling invasion.
Millie, Tom and Rob. Aged five, nine and sixteen respectively, if I’d memorized that right. Rob was the same age as me, for definite. Our first and only meeting was an awkward pub lunch where Tamsin tried to make cheerful small talk, Rob went on and on about some computer game, Millie said she didn’t like my hair, which I’d worn in plaits, and Tom kicked me under the table. Repeatedly.
All three of them had the same dad, despite the age gaps. I thought that Millie was probably some last-ditch attempt to save Tamsin’s first marriage. It hadn’t worked, evidently, as she’d got divorced when Millie was a baby. I wondered how it felt to know you weren’t enough to make your parents stay together. And then I realized I already knew.
Maybe Millie wasn’t old enough to feel it yet, but I was. I knew that my parents had planned to stay together until I got through my A levels, because they’d told me so. But obviously, something had changed.
Was Tamsin the reason? Maybe that was why she was so damn happy all the time – she’d got what she wanted.
“Heather’s here, everyone,” Tamsin said, her voice as bright as the lights on the outside of the house. “Christmas can start!”
Tom, Rob and Millie all stopped at the bottom of the stairs to eyeball me, the interloper in their midst.
“Hi, Heather,” Millie said, giving me a quick wave.
“Yeah, hi,” Rob added, quieter than I remembered.
Tom mumbled something similar, before adding, “Cool, cookies!” and diving for the plate.
Tamsin whipped it out of the way before he reached it. “After dinner,” she said sternly. “You know the rules.”
“But she had one.” Tom glared at me, and I tried to brush away any incriminating crumbs without drawing too much attention to it.
“She’s our guest,” Tamsin said.
Millie frowned and replied, “But I thought you said she was family now?”
Rob rolled his eyes at her. I got the feeling he wasn’t so keen on the idea of a new sister either, he was just better at hiding it. Or maybe it was the thought of a new dad he didn’t like.
I could sympathize with that. I already had a mum, I didn’t need an extra one. But at least I didn’t have to live with Tamsin and her constant perkiness. These guys would have my dad around all the time, being their dad.
Instead of him living at home with us, being my dad.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter because dinner is ready,” Tamsin said. “Why don’t you all go and put your stuff away in the lounge, then sit down at the table?”
“We’re having dinner? Now?” Rob asked. “But Owen’s coming round.”
Tamsin’s perma-smile froze for a moment. “Again? Rob, this is supposed to be a family dinner for Heather…”
“Owen practically is family.” Rob gave her a look I didn’t quite understand and she sighed. “OK, set another place at the table, then.” Rob vanished into the dining room and Tamsin turned back to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the hallway with the Christmas tree, wondering who Owen was.
While I waited for someone, anyone, to come and tell me where I was supposed to go next, there was a knock on the door. That would be Owen, I assumed. I waited a moment, but no one appeared. Maybe they hadn’t heard it. Maybe they were expecting me to answer it.
I headed to the front door and yanked it open.
There, on the other side, was the guy with the axe from next door. Well, he didn’t have the axe with him any more, but still. It was him.
“Owen, I’m guessing?” I said, stepping aside to let him in.
He nodded, eyeing me curiously. “Yeah. And you must be the new sister.”
“Heather.” I had a feeling that wasn’t what Rob referred to me as, but Owen just accepted the information with another nod, moving past me into the hallway. I closed the door behind him, resisting the urge to make a run for it. “I understand you’re joining us for dinner?”
He paused, just for a moment. “Am I? That’ll be nice. You sound thrilled.”
“Why would I care?” I said with a shrug. “The more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned.” Especially if it took attention away from me and my interloper status.
“OK, then.” He picked up a cookie from the plate Tamsin had left on the table and took a bite. I wondered if Tamsin would have stopped him, too, if she’d been there. Whether Owen was family enough to be scolded or outsider enough to get cookies. Maybe I’d find out over dinner.
Dad reappeared down the stairs, looking red-faced and puffed. “Right, that’s your room ready,” he said. “I thought the boys had got it sorted already, but… Anyway, it’s sorted now.” Which I translated as meaning that Tamsin had asked Rob and Tom to get my room ready and they hadn’t because they hated me. Fine. “Hello, Owen. Here for dinner?”
“Apparently,” Owen said, around his mouthful of cookie. But his eyes were still on me. What did he see?
“Dinner’s ready!” Tamsin sang out as she came into the hallway, carrying a large dish.
Rob stuck his head out of the dining room and motioned for Owen to head through, which he did, just as Tom and Millie emerged from the lounge and raced in after them. Tamsin smiled at me, then followed. Dad ushered me in, but I hung back a bit, letting everyone else sit first to be sure I wasn’t stealing anyone’s place.
I knew I didn’t belong here just as well as the rest of them. The only one who didn’t seem to believe it was Dad. I’d make it through this holiday for his sake. He was happy and, despite everything, I wanted that for him. But I also wanted to see what this family I’d inherited was really like – beyond Tamsin’s constant smiling. As I eyed Owen across the candlelit table and the chicken and leek pie Tamsin was serving, I realized I might have a way to find out. He was closer to the family than I ever expected to be, but not part of it.
Owen, I suspected, saw a lot more than people intended him to – I could tell from the way he watched everyone as they moved around the room, serving food and pulling crackers even though it wasn’t Christmas Day yet. The expression on his face, it was more than just watchful. It was like he was absorbing the whole scene, taking in every tiny detail.
What was his story? I really wanted to know. If only because it was far more interesting than wondering how my new family really felt about me.
Tamsin sat down at one end of the table, opposite Dad, and smiled around at us all. “Oh, it’s so lovely to have us all together for Christmas Eve!”
I glanced across at Owen, who’d sunk a little further into his chair, as if they might forget he was there if he was very quiet. He was bigger than Rob – taller and broader – but right then he was almost invisible. He’d managed to make himself disappear at the dining table.
As we ate I tried to keep up with the flying conversation, the in-jokes and the constant clamour around the table. Rob was back up to full volume, talking loudly about some film he wanted to see. As an only child, I wasn’t used to so much noise at dinner. Dad seemed to be in his element, though, joining in without missing a beat.
“So, what shall we play after dinner?” Dad asked as we finished eating. He turned to me. “We always play a board game after a big family meal. Usually it’s Sunday Games Night, but I think tonight counts, don’t you?” I smiled weakly. Great. Board games. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d played an actual game – and never with Dad. It wasn’t our style. We were more movie-watching types. We used to shout warnings at the really stupid characters in horror movies.
But apparently Dad had changed. It was all about the board games now.
“Scrabble!” Tom yelled over Millie’s suggestion of Snakes and Ladders.
“That’s only for four players,” Tamsin pointed out, shaking her head. “We need something we can all play.”
“Does she have to play?” Tom asked his mother in a whisper we all heard.
I felt my cheeks flaming red, even as Tamsin shushed him.
“Cards?” Rob suggested. “You did say you’d teach me and Owen to play poker…” He flashed Dad a grin and Tamsin frowned, even though her smile didn’t shift.
“Maybe not tonight, hey?” Dad said. “What about charades? I know it’s not a board game, but it is a Christmas classic.”
A Christmas classic was mince pies in front of The Muppet Christmas Carol or Elf. Not this forced family fun, this ridiculous attempt at the most Christmassy Christmas ever. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all an act – a way to show me that Dad was better off now he had them as his family.
Was this really what Dad wanted? Was this really why we weren’t enough for him? Because we didn’t play Scrabble?
Suddenly I couldn’t take it any more. My face felt too hot in the candlelight, my head pounding from the scent of cinnamon permeating every inch of the house.
Without even thinking about it, I pushed my chair back from the table. The chair legs scraped against the wooden floor and everyone turned to look at me. Even Owen, his eyebrows ever so slightly raised over pale blue eyes, had all his attention on little old me.
Great. Just what I didn’t want.
They were all waiting for me to say something, to chip in, and all I could think was, I don’t want to be here.
“I should … clear the table.” I picked up my plate and reached to take Millie’s from beside me, too.
“I’ll help,” Owen said, grabbing his and Rob’s plates.
Tamsin beamed. “That’s so kind of you both! I hope you lot are paying attention,” she added, looking at her own children.
I didn’t stay to hear their responses. Laden with as many plates as I could carry, I hurried out to the blissfully silent kitchen.
Laying down my pile of crockery, I rested for a moment against the cool counter and willed my head to stop spinning. But before I could even catch my breath, I heard Owen dumping his dishes beside my pile.
“You OK?” he asked. “They can be a bit…”
“Loud?” Except it wasn’t the volume, not really. It was the way they had three conversations at once and still managed to follow all of them. It left me dizzy.
“Much, I was going to say. They can be a bit much. If you’re not used to them, anyway.” He hitched himself up to sit on one of the stools at the counter beside me.
“Just a bit,” I agreed. “But you are, right? Used to them, I mean.”
Owen shrugged. “I guess. Rob and I have been friends since we were little kids.”
“He doesn’t like me being here, does he?” Might as well be blunt.
“Probably about as much as you like being here.”
I sighed. Who really likes being somewhere they’re not wanted?
“It’s just weird,” I said.
“Yeah.” And that was it. I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. We just stayed there, in the quiet of the kitchen, not talking.
It was kind of nice.
Owen propped his elbows behind him on the counter, staring up at the ceiling, and I took the opportunity to study him without him seeing me watching.
The hair I’d thought was too long when I first saw him seemed to suit him now. It softened his edges somehow – the hardness of his jaw, the sharp line of his cheekbones. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew from earlier how direct they were, how deep they looked.
It was weird, in a way, his being best friends with Rob. They didn’t seem anything alike from the little I’d observed. Rob was talkative where Owen was quiet, outgoing where Owen was reserved.
“Hey, Mum wants us to fetch pudding and bowls and stuff.” Rob appeared in the doorway and Owen’s attention snapped back from the ceiling to his friend. Rob nudged him with his elbow as he walked past to the fridge. “Your fault, showing me up.”
“Sorry, mate,” Owen said, throwing a swift smile in my direction. It was secretive, like we shared something Rob could never understand – how it felt to be an outsider.
Owen got up and took a stack of bowls from Rob. As he passed me, he paused for a second, close enough that his arm brushed against mine. “You’ll get through it,” he murmured, before carrying on.
I watched him walk away, still feeling the warmth where we’d touched, until Rob said, “Are you coming?”
Back in the dining room, Tamsin dished out chocolate pudding.
“She’s got more than me,” Millie objected.
I held out my bowl to swap, but she pulled a face and held her own closer. I sighed.
“You’ve all got exactly the same amount,” Tamsin said.
I picked up my spoon, focusing on my pudding, and tried not to wince or react at all when Tom’s foot collided with my shin. It could have been an accident, I supposed.
I was not going to let them get to me. I wasn’t.
But that didn’t mean I had to stay here and take it either.
“So, did we decide what game we wanted to play?” Dad asked, sounding incredibly cheerful.
I wasn’t used to Dad being cheerful. It felt weird.
“Actually,” I said, looking down at my unfinished pudding, “I’m kind of tired. If you don’t mind … I thought I might go up to my room and get ready for bed. Maybe read for a while.”
Dad looked up. “Are you feeling OK, honey? Do you want me to fetch you some paracetamol or anything?”
“We haven’t even listened to my new Christmas CD yet,” Tamsin said, looking disappointed. Around the table, though, my step-siblings were looking secretly gleeful.
“I’m fine,” I reassured Dad. “Just … tired. It’s been a long few days.”
“OK. If you’re sure,” Dad said, not sounding convinced at all.
“I am. Goodnight, everyone.” I smiled around the table, hoping it looked sincere. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”
“Wait!” Millie jumped up, arms waving. “You haven’t hung up your stocking! Santa might not come if they aren’t all there!”
My stocking. It hadn’t even occurred to me that with Millie in the house that would still be a thing. “Um, I don’t think I brought one. Don’t worry. Father Christmas will probably just leave my presents at home with Mum.”
Millie’s face fell at that and Tamsin stood up, her smile looking strained finally. “Don’t be silly, Heather. Of course he’ll come here for you tonight! And as it happens, we got you a stocking to match the rest of the family, didn’t we, love?”
Dad nodded and reached over to grab a bag from the sideboard. “Here we go.” He pulled out a quilted tartan stocking with my name stitched across the top in silver thread.
“Want to help Heather hang it up, Millie?” he asked.
Millie nodded enthusiastically and raced out to the lounge. I took the stocking from Dad and followed.
In the lounge, a fire crackled in the grate – a real one. And on either side hung stockings – one for Tom, one for Rob, one for Millie – and an empty hook ready for mine.
“It goes here!” Millie pointed at the hook, then watched to make sure I got it right.
I had a feeling she was more concerned that everything was perfect for Santa when he brought her presents than she was about me getting mine.
“Great.” I reached across and hung the loop over the hook, then stood back to look at them all hanging together. Like a real family. Weird.
Millie skipped off back to the dining room, asking again at the top of her voice about playing Snakes and Ladders. I watched her go, then headed for the stairs.
“Night night, Heather,” Tamsin called from the dining room.
The others echoed her, and Dad appeared in the doorway as my foot hit the first step.
“Your room’s up these stairs, then up the smaller stairs on the landing,” he said. “You’re sure you’re OK? You don’t want to stay up and play games?”
“Sorry,” I said, with a yawn for emphasis. “I’m just really tired.”
“Yeah.” Dad didn’t sound like he believed me. “Well, hopefully you’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m sure I will,” I lied.
*
Of course, once I got up to my room, I was wide awake.
I changed into my pyjamas – my fleecy ones with penguins on, because they made me feel marginally more at home – and sank back on to the bed to message my friends for a bit. But they were all busy with their families and couldn’t chat for long. I pulled out the book I’d packed, but I couldn’t get into it. There was no telly in my room, and only so long I could play games on my phone without getting bored, so in the end I gave up and turned the lights out, curling up under the covers and trying to sleep.
Maybe it was the strange room, or the single bed shoved under the eaves, or the way the window frame rattled in the wind. Maybe it was the laughter coming from downstairs. Or maybe it was just me, feeling lost.
Whatever it was, I couldn’t sleep. So instead, I found myself listening.
I heard Millie protesting about having to go to bed, half an hour or so after I left. I heard the boys laughing, with Dad’s deeper laugh in there, too. As expected, they were all having much more fun without me.
After a while, I heard the front door open and Rob call, “See you Boxing Day, yeah.” If Owen replied, I couldn’t hear it. Probably he didn’t. He didn’t seem like the sort to talk more than he had to.
I settled back against my pillow again and listened to the sounds of a household going to bed. Rob and Tom bickering as they climbed the stairs, their heavy footfalls thudding through the house. Dad and Tamsin talking in quieter voices, a low hum that buzzed in the air. Then the stranger, unfamiliar noises of the house – the clanging water pipes, the creaking floorboards.
Was everyone else asleep? I couldn’t tell. But in the tiny attic bedroom, the air seemed to grow thicker and hotter as I imagined them all, happy and home and exactly where they wanted to be. While I was stuck up here, alone and miserable.
I threw off my blankets, got up and paced. How was I ever going to sleep in this strange, noisy room? My self-imposed exile meant I’d already been up there for hours and the walls felt like they were closing in.
Because it was in the attic, the bedroom had a skylight instead of normal windows, but the pitch of the roof was surprisingly shallow. Unless you were right at the edges of the room, it was still possible to stand upright. The skylight was even high enough that I needed to stand on the rickety old dressing table to shove the window open.
Beautiful cold air rushed around my overheated face and I pushed myself up just a bit further to suck it in, feeling my lungs coming to life again as I breathed in freedom. I’d felt like I was suffocating in that room, in that house. Out there, in the night sky, for the first time since I arrived, I felt like me again.
At least I did until a voice said, “If you’re coming out, I’d bring a blanket.”
I jumped, whacking my shoulder on the window frame as I turned to face the voice. There, up on the roof that joined Tamsin’s house and his, was Owen. He leaned back on his hands, his ankles crossed, like lounging around on a roof was perfectly natural.
“What are you doing out there?” I asked, shuffling my feet around on the dressing table to get my balance.
He shrugged. “Same thing you are, I expect. Getting some fresh air.”
“Escaping.” Suddenly I realized what the look I’d noticed on Owen’s face earlier was. It was desperation – the feeling of being hemmed in with no escape. The way I’d been feeling since I arrived.
But what made Owen feel that way? Why was he escaping to the roof on Christmas Eve?
“If you’re planning on running away, I should warn you that the nearest main road is three miles away.”
“I’m not running away,” I said hotly. “But I am coming out.”
I don’t know why I said it. I hadn’t had any intention of climbing out of the window. But if he could do it…
I took a step higher, on to a small shelf above the dressing table, praying it would hold my weight as I grabbed the window frame and levered myself out until I could sit on the edge of the window. Owen watched, his face pale in the moonlight.
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t actually expect you to do that,” he said, as I crawled across the tiles towards him, my heart hammering against my ribcage. He was right – it was cold out on the roof, but my fleecy pyjamas and thick socks kept the worst away. Owen was still fully dressed, in a hoody and jeans.
“Honestly? Neither did I.” I sat gingerly beside him, taking care to balance my weight so I wouldn’t topple off the roof. His hand brushed against my back, as if he thought he might have to catch me, and the surprise of his touch made me shiver.
“In fact, you’re not much like I expected,” Owen went on.
“Well, I didn’t expect you at all.” Why was he so chatty all of a sudden? He’d barely said a word all through dinner, but now he seemed to want to talk. Maybe it was the darkness, or the fact that I was in his space.
“Yeah. The extra not-a-stepbrother. I guess I didn’t come up in conversation when they were persuading you to come here for Christmas.”
“There wasn’t much in the way of persuading,” I said. “It was decided for me.”
“Is that why you’re so grumpy about it?” Owen asked. “Because you shouldn’t take it out on Tamsin, you know.”
“I’m not,” I snapped. “And I’m not grumpy.”
“Right.” Owen surveyed me steadily. “That’s why you went to bed at eight thirty.”
“I was tired.”
“And yet here you are. Up on the roof. At nearly midnight. With me.”
“With you,” I echoed, returning his stare. What was I doing up there? This was crazy.
But for the first time since Mum left that afternoon, I felt like I was right where I was meant to be.
“It must be strange, I suppose.” Owen’s gaze shifted away from mine and he changed position carefully. “Spending Christmas here, I mean.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “It’s… Everything’s different. And I don’t … I don’t fit here.” Why was I telling him? Then again, who else was I going to tell?
“I don’t think you’re trying to,” Owen said.
“You seem to fit in well enough,” I shot back. “I mean, it sounds to me like you’re round an awful lot.”
“I’m Rob’s best friend.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke, but I could see his fist clenching as he brought his knees up to his chest. I’d hit a nerve. “We hang out.”
“Yeah? Because it seems to me more like you were avoiding something else, maybe.” I hadn’t figured it out before, but now it made total sense. Owen didn’t quite fit here either – but I was sure he fitted here better than at home. Why else would he take such care to fade into the background, to not draw any attention? Just in case someone realized he was there and threw him out? Why else would he be hanging out on a roof at midnight on Christmas Eve?
We were both misfits.
“Maybe I am.” He shrugged, his fingers relaxing again. “Don’t think it’s any of your business though.”
“Perhaps it isn’t. But…” It could be, I wanted to say. I wanted to have something good come out of my visit here. If talking to Owen was that thing, I’d take it.
He sighed. “Home… Well, it sucks, quite a lot. So I spend some of my time at Rob’s instead. That’s all.”
“Sucks how?”
“My stepdad… Let’s just say he’s not like Rob’s – like your dad, I mean. And I’d rather be up here freezing my arse off than in there with him tonight.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling guilty for pushing. I might not want to be here, might not want to be welcomed into Tamsin’s house … but she had welcomed me, even if her kids were less keen. And maybe Owen had a point. Maybe I hadn’t really tried to fit in either.
Time to change the subject. “So, what were you expecting, then?” I asked. “I mean, if I’m not what you expected…”
Owen shrugged, but his body seemed more relaxed than it had, now we’d moved away from the topic of his stepdad. He stretched out his legs again and his thigh pressed against mine, warm in the cold night. Despite the warmth, it made me feel odd. Like thousands of tiny snowflakes were landing on my skin.
Then he said, “Rob said you were sulky and difficult,” and the moment was ruined. I shuffled across so we weren’t touching any more. Rob had met me all of once – what the hell did he know? “But…”
“But?” I clung to that word. I wasn’t sulky or difficult. I just… I had no idea how to act in this situation. How to suddenly be part of a new family.
“But I guess I saw something he didn’t. At dinner, I mean. You didn’t look sulky. You looked…” He paused for a moment, watching me, and I wondered what he saw now, out here in the moonlight. Then he said, “Lost, I guess. Like you knew you weren’t supposed to be there, and were hoping no one noticed you were.”
I couldn’t help it – I laughed.
Owen scowled at me. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“It wasn’t funny at all,” I said. “It’s just … I was thinking exactly the same thing about you.”
“Huh.” He looked away. “I guess you could be right. Maybe.”
“So neither of us fit,” I concluded, but Owen shook his head.
“You could, if you wanted to. Tamsin wants you to, and Rob and the others will come round soon enough. They’re good people, really, once you get to know them. Me… I’ll only ever be the charity case from next door.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” But I wasn’t. I’d been there less than half a day. How could I know?
“It is. And that’s OK. I’m lucky that they let me hang out there as often as they do. And it’s not forever. A few more years and I’ll finish school, move away, and I’ll never have to see him again.” He gave me a sideways look. “Same for you, I guess. I mean, if you really don’t want to be part of the family…”
I froze at his words. I was sixteen and so fed up with other people deciding my life for me, I’d forgotten that soon it would be up to me to make those decisions. I could live where I liked, spend Christmas with whoever I wanted.
And I realized, suddenly, that if I had to choose … I would want to see my dad at Christmas, whatever happened. Always.
Maybe next year I’d be with Mum, and come to Dad and Tamsin for Boxing Day or whatever. And maybe Christmas would never be the same as I remembered, and maybe I’d never really be at home here, but the opposite – to not be wanted or welcome here – that was unthinkable.
I glanced over and found Owen watching me. “So. Not so bad here after all?”
“I didn’t say that. I mean, they wanted to play charades.”
“They wanted you to want to be here,” he countered, and suddenly I felt ashamed. Maybe Rob was right. Maybe I was sulky and difficult.
My face felt hot again, even in the cold air, and my head buzzed with Owen’s words. I was all set to shimmy back down through the window and hide under my duvet until Boxing Day when his hand crept over mine, squeezing my fingers. That shiver I’d felt when we first touched was back – and multiplied. Like Christmas lights flashing up my spine.
“You’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s not easy, I guess.”
“I want to do better at it,” I whispered, and he nodded.
He let go of my hand and glanced down at his wrist, pressing a button to light up his watch. “It’s midnight. Christmas Day.”
“I should get to bed.” I shuffled forward, inching down the roof in a seated position. Then suddenly, I felt my foot slip and I jolted forwards, losing my balance. The tiles grated against my legs and panic flooded my body until Owen grabbed my arms, pulling me back against him.
“Careful!” His mouth was right against my ear, and I could hear a hint of fear in his voice.
“Thanks.” I told myself that my heart hammering against my ribcage was just because of my slip, but it might have had something to do with his nearness, too.
“Any time.” He held on a moment longer, then shifted to help me down to my window. With him holding me steady, I managed to get my legs through the gap, feeling for the dressing table with my socked feet. “Got it?”
“Think so.” I turned around so I could see him, kneeling over the window above me. His eyes were dark in the thin light, his hair falling over his forehead, and his lips were close. All I needed to do was stretch up on my tiptoes…
He met me halfway, his lips pressing against mine in a swift, soft kiss.
“Merry Christmas, Heather,” he murmured, as he pulled away.
“Merry Christmas,” I whispered back.
He gave me a quick smile, pushing the window closed between us before vanishing from view along the roof.
I sat down on the dressing table.
Well.
That wasn’t how I’d expected this Christmas to go.
It took me a moment to stop replaying my time on the roof in my head and realize that there were new sounds in the house. Floorboards creaking underfoot – someone was moving about down there.
Of course. Father Christmas.
I bit my lip. It was Christmas. Time to turn things around. Decision made, I opened my bedroom door and tiptoed down the attic stairs.
Tamsin turned, eyes wide and present sack in hand. She looked tired and she wasn’t smiling.
I took a breath and smiled at her. “Need a hand? I … I’d like to help.”
When Tamsin smiled back, it was with an expression of relief that looked more real than anything else I’d seen since I arrived. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
Together we filled Christmas stockings, stacked presents under the tree and I took a large bite out of the carrot Millie had left for Rudolph. Somehow making it look like magic for Millie made it feel magical for me, too. Like Christmas should.
As I straightened one last present before we left, Tamsin paused at the door and looked at me. Not smiling, not pretending, just being.
“I really did want you here for Christmas, you know, Heather,” she said. “Not just for your dad. I wanted you to feel welcome. I know it’s not easy, any of this. But… Well, I’m glad you’re here. That’s all.”
I met her gaze head on. “So am I.”
And for the first time, I was.