Page 77 of The Best Little Christmas Shop
‘I’ll be going now then, Cal,’ Martha said, having quietly observed the scene as she wrapped up against the bitter evening. ‘Nice to see you again, Lexi.’
‘And you, Martha.’
She smiled but Mama Bear was definitely back in play. And I guess if George had noticed his Dad wasn’t quite himself, there was no doubtMartha had seen it too. I got the feeling that Martha didn’t miss very much at all.
‘There’s some stew on the stove for you all. George had his earlier but there’s some crumpets in the breadbin if he’s a bit peckish before bed.’
George began pecking at my leg, gigglng at the word. ‘Peck, peck.’ I chuckled and rested my hand at the back of his head.
‘May I have a crumpet whilst you have dinnerwith Lexi, Daddy?’
‘Oh, I’m not staying for dinner, sweetie.’
Immediately, three sets of eyes focused on me. George’s were pleading, Martha’s assessing, and Cal’s … Cal was just waiting to see my next move.
‘Ohhh!’ George clung a little tighter to my leg and his bottom lip stuck out as he peered up at me.
I fixed Cal with a look. ‘OK, that’s not fair.’
His mouth twitched with a smile. ‘Nothingto do with me.’
Vainly I turned to Martha. She was pulling on her second glove. ‘It’s very good stew,’ she said, nodding and smiling at Cal as he opened the door for her. Derek’s car sat waiting in the drive – the engine running – and Cal gave him a wave, which he returned. ‘I made it myself. Good for warming up. Goodnight then, everyone.’
George separated himself momentarily from my leg, exchangeda hug with Martha, and then fixed himself back on to me. We waited until Martha was in the car, gave her a wave, and then Cal closed the door. Silence enveloped us … for about thirty seconds. There was, after all, a five-year-old in the room.
‘What are those?’ George said, unpeeling himself from my leg and plopping down in front of the boxes Cal and I had brought in from the car.
‘Decorations.Your dad said he thought your house could do with a few more.’
‘That was my idea!’ George grinned, his hands delving through the contents of one box.
I’d had an idea that the little boy would be hands on with this task, quite literally, so had been careful to include only non-breakable items in the choices I’d made. ‘I think it was a very good one then!’
George began delving into the otherbox. ‘Can we really put all these up, Daddy?’
‘Why not?’
Quickly pushing himself up from the floor, his son began jumping up and down, cheering. It was hard not to get caught up in his festive joy.
‘So are you staying for dinner?’ Cal asked casually, as he scooped George up and bounced him on his arm.
‘Please say yes!’ George added.
My stomach growled, echoing in the hallway. George giggledand a smile hovered around his father’s mouth.
‘Your tummy is hungry,’ George said.
I let out a sigh, knowing when I was beaten. ‘It does rather sound like that, doesn’t it?’ In truth, I was starving.
‘Is that a yes?’ Cal raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes. It is. Thank you.’
‘Good.’ He put George back on the floor and sent him off to tidy up his toys.
‘Did you want to go and wash up a bit before weeat?’ He hesitated and I caught the smile he was trying to hide. ‘I’m assuming you are actually wearing something under those overalls.’
I rolled my eyes and he laughed. There was still a hint of awkwardness but it seemed to have dissipated a bit, with little George being an excellent catalyst in that department, and I was glad of it. Atmospheres weren’t my thing. I didn’t even know they werea thing for years. They simply weren’t tolerated in our household. People said what they needed to, it got discussed, debated, settled, and we moved on. We didn’t tiptoe around on eggshells – we tramped right over them in great, hobnail boots.
