Alastair nodded. How could he tell Aubrey he didn’t care about presents? He wouldn’t be able to take many of them back with him to Barrow anyway, so what was the point? “It’ll be great,” he said, and hoped he sounded like he believed it.

  “So,” Aubrey said, appearing in Alastair’s doorway. “What shall we do?”

  It was already dark when they’d arrived home an hour ago, and Alastair had headed off to his bedroom to unpack his bag. He’d done it slowly, not because he was taking any great care about it, but because his mind wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation on their way home.

  He’s not coming home.

  He didn’t know exactly why it bothered him so much, since his father was almost never home. Most of the time before Alastair had left in September for his first year at Barrow, Mrs. Cuthbert had looked after him. A severe but kindly woman with brown hair and glasses, she served as something halfway between a nanny and a governess. That meant she took care of him, making sure he had clean clothes and nutritious meals and got to bed on time, but she’d also been his tutor since he was three years old. She was very bright, and in her tutor role she was much tougher on him than she was in her nanny role. Alastair liked tutor-Cuthbert a lot more than he liked nanny-Cuthbert—at least with school stuff, he knew what he was supposed to do and that he was good at it, and she never tried to hold him back in his thirst to learn everything he could get his hands on. That, and tutor-Cuthbert did a lot less hugging.

  He saw less of Aubrey, whose main job was taking care of the grounds around the house. The grounds were big—Alastair hadn’t even seen all of them—so that meant he was only around some of the time. When Alastair could get away from Mrs. Cuthbert he often used to go out to the workshop in the garage under Aubrey’s large flat, or follow the caretaker around when he was working close to the house, asking questions. Aubrey never seemed to mind answering his questions, no matter how many he asked.

  He jumped down off the bed and shrugged. “I don’t care. Whatever you want to do, I suppose.”

  “Would you like to come down for some dinner, and some hot chocolate? Tomorrow we can go out and find a Christmas tree. We can bring it back and decorate it, and put all the gifts underneath.”

  Alastair’s thoughts returned to last year, when Dad had been home for a few days at Christmas, and his delight as his father had floated him around with magic so he could reach the highest points of the towering tree in the great room. This year, they’d have to use a ladder to get to the top branches, and Aubrey would never let him climb that high on his own. “Sure, if you want.”

  He didn’t miss Aubrey’s expression of kind sympathy before the caretaker looked away—but he also didn’t miss a quick look of anger. Although he had no way to know how he knew it, he was certain the anger wasn’t directed at him.

  Aubrey did his best to keep Alastair from thinking about his father’s absence. As he promised, they stumped out into the far reaches of the grounds at midday the next day and located a fine fir tree. They chopped it down and dragged it back to the house behind the little tractor the caretaker used for clearing brush and gathering firewood. Aubrey even let Alastair drive the tractor for a short distance.

  They brought the tree in—Alastair noticed but did not comment that it wasn’t nearly as tall as the one from last year, since they didn’t have Dad’s magic to lift it into place—and spent the afternoon draping it with tinsel, baubles, and other Christmas finery. Aubrey had taken pains to set the proper mood, hanging wreaths over cheery fireplace blazes and leaving plates of holiday sweets on various tables.

  “There we are,” he said, satisfied, as he inspected their handiwork. “All we have to do now is put the star on top. Would you like to do that?”

  Alastair eyed the ladder. Even though the tree was a lot shorter, the top was still a long way up. “You’d let me?”

  “Of course I’d let you. You’re getting older now. You’ll be fine.”

  “Someday I’ll be doing magic like Dad,” he agreed, full of sudden pride.

  “That you will, lad. But for now, you still need to do it the old-fashioned way, I’m afraid,” he added with a chuckle. “Go on, then.”

  Alastair took the shining golden star with the crystal in the center, and carefully ascended the ladder. He didn’t look down—there was no way he’d let Aubrey know he was nervous about being up so high—and leaned in to perch the star atop the tree.

  “Well done!” Aubrey called. “Beautiful. Now let’s just light the tree up and I’ll go and fetch the gifts to put under it.”

  As Alastair stood back and watched Aubrey plug in the lights, it occurred to him with a bright bolt of guilt that he hadn’t gotten the caretaker a gift. He’d figured he’d have time to get presents for everyone when he was home with his father, but now that wasn’t going to happen.

  The great room lights went out, and a moment later the tree lit up in a brilliant kaleidoscope of twinkling rainbow colors. “There!” Aubrey called, coming back over to put his hand on Alastair’s shoulder. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

  Alastair nodded, looking not at the tree but at his feet. “Aubrey…”

  “Yes?”

  “I…er…well…I didn’t get you anything.”

  Aubrey chuckled. “That’s all right, lad. I didn’t expect you to. Having you here is gift enough. I truly did miss you.” He clapped his hands once, briskly. “Now, then! Speaking of gifts, you wait here and I’ll fetch them. Your father even gave me permission to give you one of them today, so you’ll have more time to enjoy it. Just sit down and I’ll be right back.”

  Alastair dropped into a nearby chair and sat watching the tree’s sparkling lights, wondering if Teddy Hastings was at Disney World yet. He pictured his roommate with his brothers and sisters, his mum and dad, maybe even his grandparents, all laughing and going on rides and clustered around a big table for Christmas dinner. Something clenched in the back of his throat, but he quickly quelled it as he heard Aubrey’s footsteps approaching.

  “All right,” the caretaker said, pushing a cart stacked with brightly-wrapped gifts. “If you’ll give me a hand, we’ll get these set and then I’ll show you something you’ll like.”

  Alastair helped Aubrey place the gifts under the tree. There were a lot of them, and quite a few had his name on them—including many from his father as well as others from Aubrey, Mrs. Cuthbert, and a few family friends. None from Father Christmas, though—his father didn’t believe in deceiving children with whimsical falsehoods, and Alastair truly didn’t mind. While he supposed it was possible some old man in a red suit came down the chimney and left gifts under trees, it hardly seemed likely. Even using magic, he simply wouldn’t have time.

  “You’ll have quite a lot of things to open on Christmas morning,” Aubrey said cheerfully. “Do you have any special things you’re hoping for?”

  “More books, I suppose. I’ve finished all mine.”

  The caretaker crouched next to him and gripped his shoulders. His gaze was kind. “Alastair…I know you’re not happy that your dad’s not here. I understand, believe me. I wish I could bring him to you, but I can’t. He’s left you all these lovely gifts, though—I know he’s sorry he had to break his promise.”

  “I know he is too,” Alastair said. But he wasn’t sure he believed it. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, though it was the first Christmas.

  “What’s wrong, then?”

  He looked at his feet again. “Nothing.”

  Aubrey reached out and tilted his chin up, with a gentle chuckle. “You might be able to fool me with that when you’re older, but not yet. Come on—what’s on your mind?”

  He swallowed and glanced at the gifts. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything. I really don’t. But—I don’t need all that stuff. I can’t take it back with me to Barrow. And—” He sighed and returned his attention to his feet. “I guess I’d just rather have Dad than a bunch of things he bought to make me feel better.”

  Aubrey pulled him into a hug, and unlike with Mrs. Cuthbert, he didn’t object. “I know, lad. I know,” the caretaker whispered. He brightened. “I’ll tell you what—why don’t we go into town? The shops are open late. We can look in the shop windows, see about picking up gifts for your father and Mrs. Cuthbert, and have dinner at the pub. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds great.” Alastair said. “Then I can get one for you too. When can we go?”

  “Just as soon as I show you one of your father’s gifts,” Aubrey said. “Come with me. I think you’re going to like this.”

  Curious, Alastair followed him out of the great room and into the east wing.

  He opened the first door on the right and stood aside. “Take a look.”

  Alastair stepped into the room and stopped when he saw what awaited him there.

  “Do you like it?” Aubrey asked from the doorway.

  The bicycle was a beauty, Alastair had to admit. It was the BMX style that many of his schoolmates had been raving over and hoping to find under their own Christmas trees, painted in bright blue metal-flake. The top tube had orange flames painted on it, and the handlebars and seatpost were matte black. “It’s…brilliant,” he said.

  “I’m sure your father will be happy to hear that. It’s a bit snowy to ride outside now, but maybe you can ride it around the house a bit later when we get back.”

  Alastair walked closer to it, circling it as he inspected it from all sides. “I can’t take it back to Barrow, though.” Boys weren’t allowed to have bicycles on campus until they were twelve.

  “True,” Aubrey admitted. “But it will be here when you come home for holidays.”

  “Even if Dad isn’t,” he said under his breath. Then he hurried back to where Aubrey waited. “Thanks, Aubrey. I’ll have to thank Dad when I talk to him. Can we go into town now?”

  “Of course we can.”

  It was dark by the time Aubrey pulled the Range Rover in behind the White Horse Inn, and the light snowfall had grown heavier. “We’ll have a white Christmas for sure this year,” Aubrey said briskly as Alastair hopped out and re-wound his scarf around his neck. “Now let’s see about getting something to eat, shall we?”

  “I’m starving,” Alastair agreed, taking a last look at the covered packages on the truck’s back seat. With Aubrey’s help, he’d picked out a handsome sweater for his father, a bright blue scarf for Mrs. Cuthbert, and (after asking Aubrey to wait outside) a brown plaid flat cap for the caretaker.

  Feeling much better about things now that he had proper gifts for everyone, he’d followed Aubrey back to the Land Rover and they’d driven to the White Horse. “This is the pub you go to a lot, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Aubrey chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t say ‘a lot,’ but I do meet friends here for a pint or two in the evenings sometimes.”

  “Will any of them be here tonight? Will I get to meet them?”

  “We’ll see. With Christmas in two days, they’re probably home.”

  “Yeah,” Alastair said. “Of course they are. With their families.” Before Aubrey could reply, he hurried ahead and pushed the door open, then held it for the caretaker.

  The interior of the old pub was all dark paneling, heavy wood beams, and rustic decorations, comfortably close and cozy. The savory smells of meats mingled with the aromas of fresh baking and ales. Alastair stopped a moment to look around, taking in the beer signs, banners, and hunting-related framed prints on the walls, and the several TV sets playing football matches. Everywhere he looked he saw festive touches: wreaths, garland, holly, red velvet ribbons tied around posts. A massive Christmas tree dominated one corner, so thick with ornaments and decorations that he could barely see the branches, and holiday music played over unseen speakers, loud enough to hear but not so loud it interfered with conversation.

  He went along readily when Aubrey put a hand on his arm and guided him into a back room. As they went by, a few people at tables and at the bar called greetings to Aubrey, so the caretaker had to pause long enough to greet them and introduce Alastair. Eventually, they reached the back room and settled at a table near the wall.

  “What do you think?” Aubrey asked.

  “It’s brilliant,” Alastair told him. He’d never been to a pub before; as far as he knew, his father never frequented them, and even if Mrs. Cuthbert did, she didn’t think it “seemly” to take a child into a drinking establishment. The feeling of cozy adult camaraderie was something he’d never experienced, and he liked it.

  Aubrey ordered a pint for himself and a hot chocolate for Alastair as they perused the dinner menu. “I’m glad you had a good day, lad.”

  “Thanks for bringing me. I hope Dad doesn’t ring while we’re away, though.”

  “If he did, we’ll ring him back tomorrow. I have his number where he’s staying.”

  Alastair brightened at that—he could also tell his father he’d gotten him a gift, even if he probably wouldn’t get to see him open it. He settled back and continued watching the other customers, sipping his hot chocolate.

  Their meals arrived soon after, and they were halfway through them when a man appeared in the doorway to the back room, holding a pint of ale. He paused a moment, nodding to Aubrey but not stopping to greet him. Then he trudged over to a small table and lowered himself into a chair, tossing his jacket over the other one. He took a long pull from his pint, set it down in front of him, and stared into it.

  Even from where he sat, Alastair could tell there was something wrong with the man. He a few years older than Aubrey, perhaps even as old as forty, dressed in the sturdy clothes and heavy boots of a workman. Between his slumped shoulders and dejected expression, he looked about like Alastair had when Aubrey’d told him his father wasn’t coming home. “Aubrey…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you know that man over there?”

  Aubrey looked up from his beef pasty. “Oh. Yes. His name is John Braddock.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?”

  “We’ve shared a lot of pints together, yes. Haven’t seen him for a while, though.”

  “He seems sad about something. Do you know why?”

  “I don’t, no.”

  Alastair glanced at Braddock again, and at that moment Braddock happened to look up and their gazes met. The man quickly looked away again. “Maybe…we could ask him to sit with us. Nobody should be all alone this close to Christmas.”

  Aubrey appeared momentarily uncomfortable, but then smiled and nodded. “You’re a good lad. I’ll ask him. But don’t be surprised if he doesn’t want to come over.”

  Alastair watched as the caretaker approached Braddock’s table. They talked for a moment in voices too low for him to hear, and then Aubrey returned alone and settled back into his chair with a sigh.

  “He says thanks for the kind thought, but he’d rather be by himself just now.”

  “Oh. All right.” Alastair snatched another look at Braddock. “Did he say why he’s sad?”

  “He’s recently lost his position, is all he said. I won’t pry for details—it’s not polite.”

  Alastair nodded and returned his attention to his dinner. He didn’t say anything else about it, but couldn’t resist casting the occasional glance at the man. Braddock didn’t look up, and his posture of dejection didn’t change as he finished his first pint and started on a second.

  When they’d finished dinner, Aubrey put his silverware on his plate and stood. “I need to go to the loo, lad. I want you to stay right here, all right? Don’t move from this table until I return. Can you do that?”

  “Sure.”

  He meant to. Truly he did. But a couple of minutes after Aubrey had disappeared down the hall toward the toilets, he happened to catch snatches of conversation from the people at the table directly behind him.

  “—shame about Braddock, isn’t it?”

  “—so close to Christmas, too. Can’t afford gifts—”

  “—older kids will understand, but little Jack—only seven—”

  “—help, but things are so tough this year…”

  Alastair twisted around in his chair, pretending to look back toward where Aubrey had gone. The older couple at the next table were both looking surreptitiously toward John Braddock, who was still focused on the remains of his meal. Their expressions were full of sympathy.

  He turned back and looked at his plate, looked at Braddock, then checked the hallway to the toilets. Still no sign of Aubrey.

  Braddock finished his second pint, put some money on the table, and reached for his jacket.

  That was it. Alastair pushed back his chair and, with one final look for Aubrey, hurried over to the man. “Mr. Braddock…?”

  Braddock looked startled. “Uh—hello, lad. Can I help you?”

  Suddenly, nervousness gripped Alastair. The man was a lot bigger up close; he had a craggy face, broad shoulders, and crooked teeth, and he hadn’t shaved recently. “Er—”

  “Alastair! What are you doing?” Aubrey came up behind him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “You promised you’d stay at the table until I got back.”

  “I was. But—”

  To Braddock, Aubrey said, “I’m sorry, John. Is he disturbing you?”

  Braddock smiled. It was a kind smile. “No, not at all.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re young Alastair Stone, aren’t you? Aubrey’s spoken fondly of you many times.”

  “Yes, sir.” Alastair jammed his hands in his pockets, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run out of the room to the sanctuary of Aubrey’s truck, but he remained where he was.

  “We’ll just be off—” Aubrey began, tightening his hold on Alastair’s shoulder.

  “Wait!” Alastair said, surprised at how loud it came out. He’d almost shouted it. More quietly he said again, “Wait.”

  “What is it?” Aubrey asked. Braddock was still looking at them both, confused.

 

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