“I was eighteen!” Lizzy exclaimed, unable to hold it back any more. “I was – I was stupid, and it was ages ago!”

  “Imagine how I felt,” Darcy said, a few tears dripping down her cheeks now as she shook with rage. “To know that – that I’m not queer enough for you! I don’t – I don’t have short hair, I don’t know my way around a toolbox, I don’t wear flannel or, or leather jackets, I don’t have a wacky hair colour or piercings or tattoos.” She laughed humourlessly, rubbing at her eyes furiously. “And as if that weren’t enough, then – shock, horror! – I’ve slept with men as well as women! Does that bother you, Lizzy? To know that I’ve been with men? Do you feel like you’re compromising, do you feel like I’m only – I’m only half a lesbian or something? I’m just some phony, pretending to be a part of your world, is that – is that how you feel about me?”

  She sank back into her chair, covering her face with her hands, shaking with sobs. Lizzy leapt up out of her chair, kneeling down in front of Darcy and placing her hands on her knees, soothing her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lizzy whispered, and I could tell that she was crying too. “I’m sorry – if I ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or that I thought any less of you – because none of that’s true. I don’t believe any of that, not any more, and I haven’t for a long time. You are – you are everything to me, Darcy, and you’re the only woman I need. No matter what you look like, or how you dress, or who you – who you’re attracted to, that’s all… that’s all you. And I love you, Darcy. Not despite all of those things, but because of them. I’ll always love you, and if – if you love me back, then that’s all I need.”

  Darcy allowed herself to be pulled into Lizzy’s arms and they stayed like that, holding each other and crying. I slipped off to my room, waiting until I heard them go to theirs before padding back into the sitting room to clear up the game which Milly and I had left out earlier.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if anything would really change if I moved out. Lizzy and Darcy would probably still have fights, and I would inevitably be drawn into it some way or other. Just because I wouldn’t technically live here wouldn’t mean I wouldn’t be spending a lot of time here, especially when Jordan was here, and I was struck by a vision of the future that saw me in my middle age, still answering phone calls from one or the other of them asking my help.

  I did a quick sweep of the room after clearing away the game, washing up the wine glasses and moving the chairs back to where they should be. Darcy and Lizzy’s coats were still on the back of the sofa from where they’d thrown them down when they came in. I went to hang them up when something fell out of the pocket of Darcy’s coat, making a soft thud on the rug. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was, but I had to confirm it for myself, no matter how much of an invasion of privacy it was; with how much my life seemed to be involved in their relationship, I think I deserved to pry occasionally. Glancing behind me to check neither of them were there, I picked up the tiny box, slowly opening it. As soon as I saw what it was, I realised why Darcy had been so worked up before they left, why she’d been so upset when they were interrupted.

  It was a ring.

  Chapter 8

  “Hi, Gran!” I had to walk sideways into her room, heaving the bags that I’d brought with me. “I brought Christmas!”

  There were a few seconds when she didn’t say anything, looking at me with confusion. I could spot the moment that she realised who I was, a grin breaking out across her face.

  “Will!” she said, reaching out her hand. I took it, sitting next to her. “You came to see me!”

  “Well, it’s nearly Christmas. I had to see you for Christmas!”

  “It’s nearly Christmas?” she asked, confused, and I could see why. There was next to nothing in her room to indicate that it might be December. There were a few cards, but nothing else. I’d been banking on that, though, and I picked up the largest of the bags I’d brought with me.

  “I’m bringing some Christmas to you,” I said, unpacking what I’d bought that morning. “You can’t have Christmas without a tree.” I pulled out a miniature potted Christmas tree and some tinsel. “Where should we put it?”

  I don’t know how long it took us to find a place for the tree, but I didn’t mind. It had been years since Gran had been so engaged with something, and I was willing to humour her while I moved the tree from surface to surface and back again, trying every possible spot in the room at least three times before leaving it on the dresser, hanging a few tiny baubles on it.

  Under Gran’s direction, I put so much tinsel up that it looked like someone had vomited a Santa’s Grotto over the room. I hung the wreath on the door, and found her old Nativity set where it was being kept in the bottom of the cupboard.

  “One more thing,” I said once the decorations were up, taking a wrapped parcel out of the last bag and putting it under the tree. “There you go! And you can’t open it until Christmas Day.”

  “What about Christmas Eve?” she asked me, a spark in her eyes that I hadn’t seen in months. “When you were young, I would let you open one on Christmas Eve, remember?”

  I sat down next to her again, allowing myself to get caught up in her nostalgia. “Yeah, I remember! And Mum always got mad, because she said that all presents were for Christmas Day, but we’d sneak off and open one anyway.”

  “I told her,” said Gran, slowly mulling over the words, “that you were small and couldn’t wait. But can I tell you a secret?”

  “Go on then,” I grinned, feeling like a child all over again.

  “I was the one who couldn’t wait!” she whispered conspiratorially. I could only hold it in for a few seconds before bursting out laughing, and she joined in, even though she seemed to have already forgotten why we were laughing in the first place.

  As we were laughing a nurse, a young man about my age, came in holding a tray of tea.

  “Hello, Edith!” he greeted her, amused at the scene before him. “Who’s your visitor?”

  “This is my grandson,” she explained, patting my arm. “This is Dennis, he makes the best tea – but don’t tell the girls!”

  “Of course not,” I laughed, pulling up the table so the nurse – Dennis – could put the tray down. “Good to meet you,” I said, holding out a hand which he shook.

  “You too – we all hear a lot about you, don’t we, Edith? She’s very proud of you, you know.”

  “He works for a newspaper – very respectable.”

  “Online journalism,” I explained.

  “More lucrative than newspapers now, I suppose,” said Dennis. “Edith, have you given your grandson his Christmas present?”

  She looked confused for a moment before remembering and attempting to reach under her chair. Dennis darted in before she reached so far that she toppled off, picking up a neatly wrapped parcel and handing it to her.

  “Thank you, dear. You’re very kind,” she said to him, before passing the gift to me. “Merry Christmas, William. And remember; don’t open it ‘til Christmas Eve.”

  ***

  Christmas came around with alarming speed, taking us all by surprise. Christmas Eve was far busier than it should have been, all of us running round and trying to get everything ready before our friends came over on Christmas Day. While usually Lizzy would not trust anyone except her dad with something as important as Christmas dinner, she was volunteering at the shelter in the morning. She’d got everything as ready as she could and written out very specific instructions for us, pointing out to me which ones I should absolutely not let Darcy do.

  Attempting to cook a Christmas dinner was as stressful as it sounded. We’d been given a specific time that the turkey had to be put in the oven, and Darcy watched the clock with the oven door open as she balanced the turkey tray on the counter, only putting it in exactly as the second hand reached the top. Between us we managed to work out how to prepare a sprout, and we only had one peeler-related injury with the parsnips. After a brief panic when it turned out we should have taken the pigs-in-blankets out of the freezer two hours earlier to defrost, Jordan, Darcy and I collapsed onto the sofa, vegetables happily cooking away on the stove.

  Within ten minutes, however, our guests had arrived, and we were back on our feet. As soon as he walked through the door, Darcy’s friend Charlie was taking turns with Jordan to improvise seemingly more and more elaborate versions of Christmas carols on the piano, continually outdoing each other until they were playing some sort of strange mash-up of every Christmas song imaginable in a way that sounded annoyingly good for two people messing around with no sheet music. Jane – Charlie’s girlfriend and Lizzy’s sister – was watching on with amusement, attempting to make some sort of conversation with Darcy. It wasn’t that Jane disliked Darcy, although she certainly had reason to. Jane was almost too optimistic, always seeing the best in people, and she was the epitome of a supportive sister when it came to Lizzy and Darcy’s relationship. I just always got the impression that Jane didn’t quite understand Darcy, and wasn’t sure how to relate to her. It was a common enough problem when it came to Darcy, but Jane was determined to try, and from the looks of it, Darcy was trying too.

  I was standing in the kitchen with Lizzy’s friend Charlotte, each of us having already drunk far too much mulled wine and nibbled far too many cheese biscuits. I first got to know Charlotte because she was Lizzy’s best friend, but it didn’t take long for us to become good friends. She’d been a last-minute addition to our guest list, having broken up with her on-again-off-again boyfriend Colin a few days earlier. Colin Collins (who was oddly deserving of the name) had been my supervisor during my internship at Rosings, and he was an interesting character to say the least. His constant enthusiasm and dedication to his employer was wearing to say the least, but you couldn’t deny that he was kind and well-meaning.

  At some point during the conversation I’d zoned out. I can’t say I felt particularly bad about it. It was a conversation we’d had many times before; every time Charlotte and Colin broke up ‘for good’. Since Lizzy and Darcy had gotten together, and Jane had started seeing Charlie, I’d become Charlotte’s designated single friend. I didn’t really mind; she was always ready and willing to be there for me if I needed her, so it worked out.

  “I really thought this time it was going to work out, you know?” Charlotte moped from where she was leaning against the counter. “I know I said that last time, and the time before, but – I really thought this was going to be it.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I nodded, having heard this all word-for-word before, watching Charlie and Jordan play what sounded like a jazz version of ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’.

  “I mean, whenever we’re together, all I can think about is how I’ll be trapped forever, doomed to play second fiddle to his weird love for his boss and I’m only twenty-two! I want to be young, have fun, see the world, not see our monthly date schedule posted on the fridge. But then when we’re not together, I just remember all the wonderful things about him, and how he’s so kind and caring and has never done a bad thing in his life.”

  “Maybe it’s not enough to have never done a bad thing,” I said absent-mindedly, still watching Charlie and Jordan play as Jane and Darcy were still locked in an attempt at conversation. “Doing nothing bad isn’t the same as doing good, you know?”

  She didn’t respond to that, staring into her wine as she swirled it around the glass.

  “Why do you like him?” I asked, not turning but watching her out the corner of my eye, waiting for her reaction.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked defensively.

  “It’s a genuine question!” I quickly amended. “What is it about Colin Collins that you like, that makes you want to be in a relationship with him.”

  “Well, you know, I get him,” she said, downing the remainder of her glass of wine in one. I waited for her to say something else, but it was clear that she couldn’t think of anything.

  “What do you get out of the relationship?”

  She looked up at me, her eyes wide and sad with understanding. “So, what, you think I should just end it? For good?”

  “I think that if the only reason you’re in a relationship is because you ‘get’ him then you should perhaps rethink what’s best. Especially if he doesn’t ‘get’ you.”

  Sighing heavily, Charlotte set her glass down on the kitchen table. “Damn it, Will. When did you get so observant?”

  The corners of my mouth twitched into a smile. “I’ve always been this observant. You’ve just never noticed it.”

  “Smart-arse,” she said, rolling her eyes but not smiling. “But enough about me, how about you? How are things going in the romantic department?”

  I let out a loud laugh that briefly drew the attention of Jane and Darcy. “Things are going about as well as they ever have. That is to say, not at all.”

  Charlotte nodded in understanding, clearly glad to be talking about someone else’s love life. “So, you’re not seeing anyone at all?”

  Something about the twinkle in her eye as she said it made me think that she knew something. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Lizzy said you had a girl over!” she exclaimed, unable to keep it in any longer. “Go on, tell me everything!”

  “There’s not much to tell,” I shrugged. “We’re friends, that’s all.”

  “Sure,” Charlotte said disbelievingly. I was about to protest but I was interrupted as the door opened, Lizzy coming in with a gift bag that seemed to be bulging with cards. Charlie and Jordan paused their playing to wave hello, Jane running up to hug her excitedly, closely followed by Charlotte. I waved hello as she came in and joined Darcy on the sofa, kissing her chastely and wishing her a Merry Christmas.

  “How was the shelter?” I asked, perching on the arm of the sofa.

  “Mixed,” Lizzy said heavily, pulling Darcy’s arm tighter around her. “It was great to be able to celebrate Christmas, give some gifts out, sing carols, have crackers and turkey and everything. It was tough, though, for nearly all of the kids it was their first Christmas away from their parents, so there were a few tears, but that was pretty inevitable.”

  “Do they not usually stay for more than a year?” asked Jane.

  “Not usually,” Lizzy explained. “Best case scenario, they go back to their parents, and it happens more often than you’d think. Quite often, kids will run away because they think that their parents won’t be accepting when they come home, and those are usually the ones where their parents have been looking for them and want them to come home, no matter what. Most of the kids that come in are underage, so they stay for one night maximum while we get them sorted with social services. We’re a shelter, not a home, so we try to make sure kids have somewhere permanent as soon as possible.”

  “I think it’s brilliant, so – so admirable,” said Charlie. He’d come over from the piano to sit next to Jane, and was beaming with encouragement at Lizzy. Charlie and Jane were two of the kindest, most wholesome and supportive people you could ever meet. I’m still amazed that Jane was happy to be here; when she and Charlie had first got together, Darcy persuaded Charlie to break up with her. I couldn’t imagine many other people would be so forgiving.

  “Something smells good,” Lizzy said, sounding only slightly surprised as she peered into the kitchen from her seat. “Everything under control?”

  “Christmas dinner is nearly ready,” I confirmed. “We followed your instructions to the letter.”

  Lizzy’s detailed instructions and my somewhat lacklustre cooking skills had paid off. With the exception of the sprouts (and who really likes sprouts?) everything seemed to vanish within a matter of minutes, Jordan inhaling turkey as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.

  Since they’d been kids, Darcy and Jordan had always opened all of their presents first thing in the morning, but they’d both agreed that this year they would wait until everyone was there. As the last of the Christmas pudding was being eaten, however, it was obvious that they were both unable to contain their eagerness any longer, Darcy displaying an uncharacteristic child-like nature as they raced towards the tree, handing out presents while the rest of us tried to drag ourselves out of our post-banquet naps and towards the sitting room.

  By the time I’d sat down I had a sizable stack of parcels next to me as Jordan all but threw the presents to their respective recipients. I winced as the mug I’d bought Charlotte went crashing onto the coffee table, but there was no sound of it smashing – thank goodness. Darcy had calmed down once she realised the present-opening was imminent, sitting on the big armchair across from the tree and pulling a giggling Lizzy into her lap.

  It was a Williams family tradition that everyone took in turns to open a present. To Darcy and Jordan, watching other people open gifts was just as important as receiving them yourself. I wasn’t sure if, this year, Jordan would be able to cope with the wait. For the last few years there had been only three of us, but now there were more than twice that. He managed it, though, indignantly replying ‘I’m nearly twenty-one, I can wait!’ every time someone implied that he was getting impatient. He only had to chivvy someone along once when Jane started apologising profusely to Charlotte for the couple’s spa voucher that she and Charlie had bought her a few weeks ago.

  When the last present had been opened – some wine from one of Darcy’s colleagues – we drifted off in our separate directions. Jordan and Charlie returned to the piano, while Lizzy took the chance to catch up with Jane. Charlotte and I gathered up the plates and wine glasses, making a start on the mammoth washing up job ahead of us.

  We’d been tidying up for ten minutes or so in companionable silence when Charlotte’s phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her pocket, her breath hitching ever so slightly when she saw who it was.

  “It’s Colin,” she said quietly. “I’d – I’d better answer it.”

  I nodded. “You can go in my room, if you want to go somewhere private.”

 

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