Page 86 of Sad Girl Hours
“I can imagine.”
We pack up the blanket and thermos and walk back down to the edge of the field. When we get to the kissing gate, Nell pushes it open, goes through the gate and holds it open for me.
I wish I was just a tiny bit braver. If I was, I’d pull her back by her scarf and kiss her over the gate.
As it is, I settle for something else. I take the hand that’s holding the gate open, noticing her eyes widen as I do so, and I gently press my lips to it. “There,” I say. “Now I can come through.”
“Y-yes. You can.” Nell’s slight stutter brings me a great amount of joy.
As does her taking my hand when I’ve manoeuvred myself through the gate. And the fact that she doesn’t let it go until we get back to the house. We’ve held hands lots before. But this time feels different.
Chapter Forty-two
Saffron
In the days before Christmas, the house is a hive of activity and warmth. The Holloways weren’t kidding: there are always people coming and going at Christmas – all of them lovely, of course. There are games and good food and drink; there’s a wrapping party on the twenty-third where everyone goes into different rooms to wrap the presents for each other. Nell and I stay in her room, of course – I’m allowed to know what the others are getting – but she does banish me to the bathroom for a few minutes while she wraps mine. (Her present is already wrapped at the bottom of my suitcase.)
Then, on Christmas Eve, it’s a full day of Holloway traditions. After breakfast, it’s all hands on deck in the cookie factory (the kitchen). We made some dough the other day and just have to roll it out and cut it into gingerbread shapes. Xander teaches me how to make melomakarona (which are delicious but result in the twins leaving lovely little sticky fingerprintseverywhereafter they’ve eaten them). Naomi also insists that Santa likes chocolate cookies best so we make those too. Although, given the amount of raw cookie dough and fresh cookies she ‘taste-tests’, I suspect Santa’s flavour preferences may have had little do with her insistence.
When we’re in full decorating mode, Owen pushes something across the worktop towards me.
“It’s you,” he says, and when I look I find a gingerbread person with a lot of bright yellow icing around its head for hair, a giant wobbly curved smile and a green dress.
“Thank you, Owen.” I smile at him. “It’s lovely.”
“She looks like a lion,” Nell notes, and Owen scowls.
“Dads always say if we try our best then that’s good enough. And anyway, your Bean Burger just looks like an ugly orange blob.”
He sulks away. I look over at Nell’s creation and bite back a grin. He’s not entirely wrong.
“Don’t,” Nell warns, watching me. “Remember what happened last time I had a baking-related artistic crisis.”
“Vividly, yes.”
After we’ve all cleared up and eaten lunch (only food that was carefully approved by Xander, who has been obsessively checking no one is consuming anything intended for Christmas Day), Nell and I help prep all the veg for tomorrow while the twins run back and forth, taking the veg scraps to the pig and the chickens outside. Then, f inally, it’s games time.
We start with charades. I’m nervous at first. I overcompensate by acting out the entire plot ofRatatouillein what everyone says is an Oscar-worthy performance. But after Eric has acted outWinnie-the-Pooh, and I’ve caught the hysterical giggles off the twins, I’ve never feltlessnervous.
Next, they bring out the Scrabble. Nell tries to insist that we play the regular version this time, despite Naomi and Owen’s objections.
As we play, the daylight starts to fade outside, and Xander gets up to light the fire.
“Hey.” Nell nudges my side gently – we’re sitting next to each other on the floor, our backs leaning against the sofa, the board on the coffee table in front.
I look over and see that she has, in fact, spelt out ‘hey’ with her letters, the others shoved to the end of the rack. I smile and turn to my letters.Hmm…Aha.
U SMELL
Nell laughs quietly. “Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, I think I should get points for that – it used nearly all my letters. And besides it didn’t say you smelt bad. You smell lovely, as always.”
“You’realwayssmelling me? Pervert.”
I roll my eyes playfully but then Naomi’s voice calls out. “HEY, Saffron and Nell are cheating!”
“We’re not cheating,” Nell fires back. “We’re just chatting becausesomeoneis taking seven hours on their turn.”
