Page 72 of The Christmas Catch
She pushed open the side door with her bum. The warmth hit her like a brick. She breathed in the scene of fake pine trees and smiled. It was a far cry from Dave and his Christmas tree farm. Inside, the bar was packed, and the atmosphere crackled with festive cheer. Anticipation leapt from everyone as they contemplated the next day, and those to come. It was the Christmas Eve magic she’d told Morgan about. A time of hope, the calm before the Christmas storm. Before you burned your turkey and had a row with your sibling, before you opened the disappointing present and drank too much port. A time when Santa really might turn up with exactly what you wanted.
She glanced down at the gingerbread pub. Her mum might not know she wanted this, but she would when she saw it.
Ali nudged her way carefully through the busy pub, the volume turned up high. When she reached the L-shaped bar, she slipped behind it. It only took a few seconds for her sister to spot her. When she did, Nicole’s mouth turned into a huge, all-encompassing smile and she let out a little scream. Her sister was dressed in mind-bending pink, as usual. Her spirit animal was a prawn.
“You made it!” Nicole finished topping up a pint of Guinness, took the payment, then walked over and wrapped her arms around Ali.
A flush of love worked its way from Ali’s toes to the tips of her fingers.
Yes, she’d missed this. Now she was here, she wondered why she’d stayed away so long. She was an idiot. Her dad might not be here, but the rest of her family was. She had a lot of time to make up for. Starting now, as she hugged her sister hard.
When she came up for air, Nicole gave Ali’s cheek a squeeze.
Ali even excused that.
For now.
Then Nicole moved her head sideways, her gold hoop earrings glinting under the pub lights. She peered into the white box Ali had set on the bar just before she was crushed. “What’s that?” she asked, moving closer and lifting the lid. “Oh my days, it’s a gingerbread Rising Sun. Where the hell did you get this?”
Ali grinned, but the truth died on her lips.Morgan bought it for me.She couldn’t say that, could she? That would admit too much. To herself, if to nobody else.
“I got it up north, in Helen’s village. A bakery made it. Isn’t it perfect?”
Nicole stuck her head in the box now, inspecting it fully. “It’s absolutely perfect. Mum’s going to love it.”
Ali looked down the bar, but could only see Sheryl and Brian serving. “Talking of, where is Mum?”
“Talking to customers somewhere. She was here a minute ago.” Nicole grinned, then pointed. “And now she’s behind you!”
Ali swivelled, and in moments, her mum deposited a leaning tower of pint glasses on the bar, then took her youngest daughter into her arms. She squeezed Ali until she could squeeze no more, before moving her out to arm’s length. “My littlest daughter. You made it! Where’s Morgan? Did she go home?”
The mere mention of Morgan’s name made Ali’s stomach churn. “She did. She’s with her family, and I’m with mine.” Her tone was light, like it didn’t matter.
She ignored the way her heart flip-flopped when Morgan’s name sat on her lips. That was an inconvenient truth.
“What are you doing out collecting glasses? I thought you had staff to do that?” Ali asked.
At 60, though many of her friends had retired, her mum refused to do the same. “Working keeps me young,” she always said, even before Dad’s untimely death. “What would I do otherwise? Watch TV and wither?” Ali could never imagine that happening. Her mum was far too full of life. She was also slathered with fake tan, her skin tone the same colour as a blood orange. Nicole had warned Ali, but seeing was believing.
Mum laughed, then moved her silver-framed glasses up her nose. She was shorter than her two daughters. They’d both gained a few inches from their dad. “They need to be collected, so what’s the harm?” Her eyes fell on the box. “What’s that?”
Ali’s heart pumped that bit faster as she picked it up and held it up to her mum. “I got it in the Lakes. It’s a gingerbread Rising Sun.”
Her mum’s eyes widened as she flipped the lid, then gazed at the model. “It’s incredible. It even has tiny iced people and lights in the window!”
“And snow on the roof, like a proper Christmas fairy tale. Maybe that will happen on Christmas Day too. It never normally does, but this year feels different,” Nicole added.
“It always did when you were little and your dad was alive.” Mum glanced at Ali, then Nicole. “Maybe if he’s up there looking down on us, he’ll send some down for Christmas morning.”
Ali’s skin prickled at the thought. She didn’t believe in the afterlife, nor that her dad was floating somewhere up above. But she’d glanced to the sky earlier when she arrived, and she did it again now. If it helped them all to think he was watching over them, there was no harm at all.
“He’d have hated the gingerbread pub though, wouldn’t he?” Ali said.
Her mum laughed, then squeezed her arm. “He’d have loved the craft of it, but he wouldn’t have eaten it for love nor money. Which is why it’s perfect for us. I love it.” She kissed Ali’s cheek. “We should let everyone else see it, too.” She carefully lifted it out of the box. “Nic, grab one of those wooden boards from the back. I want to show this off.”
Moments later, the gingerbread Rising Sun was on the end of the bar, and getting the attention it deserved.
Nicole leaned into Ali. “I’m not sure I want to eat it after the whole pub has breathed on it, but it looks amazing.” She nodded towards their mum, chatting with customers about it. “Look how proud and pleased she is. You did good, little sis.”
