Page 117 of A Christmas Celebration
‘For lots of us,’ she said. ‘I think we’re all going to feel their impact.’
‘Molly,’ I said, ‘you’re scaring me.’
‘It’s nothing bad,’ she said quickly, the frown disappearing as Bran nudged her hand and she rested her fingers lightly on top of his head, ‘but it is big. A huge shift. Time will tell.’ She smiled.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I hope we’re not kept waiting too long.’
‘I can understand that,’ she said. ‘Especially as you’re going to be impacted by them all. Don’t look so worried,’ she then laughed, linking her arm through mine. ‘You’ve come so far already. I don’t think there’s anything now that you can’t handle.’
I hoped she was right about that.
‘Now,’ she said, as we walked back to the path which would lead us to the hall. ‘Tell me all about you and Brodie.’
‘Thank the goddess for that,’ I laughed. ‘I thought you were never going to ask!’
I told her that we were now officially a couple, but didn’t mention that I had concerns about what would happen after Christmas. I daresay, Molly being Molly, she already had an inkling, so I focused instead on the good stuff and then, during dinner, Brodie and Angus filled in some of the blanks and explained to everyone more about how they knew each other.
By the time we were ready to watch my godfather light up the hall everything, apart from his secret Christmas commission for Catherine and Albert’s extraordinary talent, had been openly discussed.
I was relieved that Albert and his studio hadn’t been mentioned. He might have picked up his brushes again but I knew that his paintings were still for his, and now, Brodie’s eyes only and they most likely always would be.
I completely respected that, but I would have dearly loved for him to develop an urge to step out of the shadows and share his work with the world. He wasn’t getting any younger and I worried that he might one day come to regret keeping it all hidden away.
I knew that if I were to suggest that to him, he would wave my words away but it was only three weeks ago that he had been living in freezing cold near-squalor and literally couldn’t see further than the end of his nose. Molly’s words about change rang around my head, but I didn’t have time to pin down further thoughts about them because Archie was calling for quiet and Angus was bouncing up and down in barely contained excitement.
‘If he’s this geed up now,’ Brodie whispered into my ear, making my skin tingle, ‘you’re really going to have your work cut out tomorrow.’
‘I was just thinking that myself,’ I whispered back.
We counted down from ten to one and then, with a flourish and a drumroll loud enough to rival Clark Griswold’s, Angus flicked a switch and the hall was bathed in the soft glow of warm white lights.
‘No way,’ Brodie gasped, stepping back to take it all in.
‘Oh, Angus,’ I beamed, bouncing up and down myself. ‘It’s beautiful.’
We all took several paces down the drive and Angus stood between us, with his hands on his hips, his eyes tracking from one side of the building to the other.
‘This is definitely better, Dad,’ said Archie, who sounded every bit as thrilled as his father looked. ‘I think we’ve cracked it.’
Every window had lights around it and so did the door. It was elegant and sophisticated and from what Mick explained, it was a rather different look to the one Angus had originally favoured when he’d started stringing up lights a few years ago. Apparently, there had been an accident then and a far more chaotic approach to the project which Angus had tried to keep a secret.
‘I think you’re right, son,’ Angus said, clapping Archie on the back and shaking Brodie’s hand. ‘This is just perfect.’
‘There you go, Molly,’ I quietly said. ‘There’s one big change for you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Angus has just agreed that the hall has enough lights. Surely, he’d usually be clamouring for more.’
‘You’re right,’ she laughed and I was relieved to see her looking more like herself.
Photos were taken and then Molly and Archie went back to their cottage and Catherine, Angus, Dorothy and Mick headed back into the hall, leaving me and Brodie to further admire the sensational seasonal spectacle.
‘If we had Instagram,’ he pointed out as we stood close together and scrolled through the pictures I’d taken on my phone, ‘we could upload these.’
‘You’re right,’ I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket and giving him a kiss. ‘But I can live without it.’
‘Me too,’ he said, zipping up his coat.
