Underneath the Christmas Tree

During the next few days, life at Wynter’s Trees settled into a routine which I found rather comforting. Having spent practically my entire life in an educational environment in one capacity or another – first as a student and then as staff – my days and months were bound by the academic calendar and without the rigidity of it, I had felt a little adrift. At least that was in part what I put the unsettled feelings down to.

However, even with the new routine, I still had plenty of time for introspection and couldn’t help mulling over what Chelsea had confided in me along with how her traumatic teenage years had impacted on mine.

I considered how if she and her family hadn’t moved to Wynmouth then my life might have taken an entirely different course. Without Chelsea’s persistent taunting, once the business was further established and I had come to terms with Mum’s loss and accepted Dad’s decision to move us, I might well have fallen in love with Wynter’s Trees.

Without Chelsea’s influence, the few friends I’d made might have carried on admiring my unusual homelife, rather than turning it into the butt of their jokes. And that, in turn, might have meant I would have been happy to join Dad in the business and he would never have made that catastrophic final trip to visit me.

As pleased as I was that I was able to help her son, I was in danger of blaming Chelsea for Dad’s crash and that was not a good place for my head to be. I knew I had to pull back from the self-destructive brink and when I woke on the first of December, I resolved to do my utmost to set Chelsea’s revelations, along with the impact they may or may not have had on my life, aside.

‘Good morning,’ said Ned, when I joined him downstairs and found him cooking bacon and brewing coffee. ‘Can I tempt you to a coffee and a bite of breakfast?’

‘A coffee would be great,’ I said, lingering longer than perhaps I usually would to fuss Bandit. ‘Thanks.’

‘I’ve grilled enough bacon for us both,’ Ned told me.

‘It’s a bit early for me,’ I responded.

‘That’s as maybe,’ he smiled, looking a little sheepish, ‘but I’ve got a packed day planned and you’ll need some sustenance to keep you going.’

‘Oh,’ I said, stifling a yawn.

I supposed keeping busy could only help strengthen my resolve to keep my darker thoughts in check.

‘What’s on the work itinerary for today then?’ I asked.

Ned sliced a roll, filled it with bacon, set in on a plate and held it out.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘what I have in mind doesn’t have anything to do with work.’

‘I see,’ I said, accepting the plate. ‘What does it have to do with then?’

He focused on shaking the sauce bottle before adding a large dollop of ketchup to his own roll. I shuddered at the sight.

‘What?’ he smiled. ‘It’s perfectly healthy. This is locally made and so full of tomatoes, it practically counts as one of my five a day.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I tutted.

Ketchup was all right on chips, but in my opinion, absolutely nothing, other than a little butter, was required to embellish a decent bacon roll.

‘You were saying,’ I reminded Ned, just as he took the biggest bite and covered his fingers in ketchup.

‘Well,’ he chewed, tearing off a sheet of kitchen towel. ‘There’s no getting away from the date, is there? And I for one, wouldn’t want to.’

I felt my face flush and put my roll back on the plate.

‘The date?’

‘The first of December,’ he clarified.

He reached down the side of the counter and pulled out two large envelopes. He kept one for himself and handed the other to me.

‘What’s this?’ I asked.

‘Open it.’

I carefully slit open the top and pulled out an advent calendar. It was a proper old fashioned one, covered in glitter and featuring Santa, jolly and rotund, flying through the star-studded night sky in his sleigh pulled by eight trusty reindeer. They were soaring over a village of snow-enhanced cottages and towards a very full moon.

‘It’s lovely,’ I said, feeling rather choked.

‘And I got one for me too,’ Ned beamed, opening his and turning it for me to see.

His featured a snowy woodland scene and a variety of wild creatures and birds, including rabbits, foxes, badgers, robins and owls. It was very Matthew Rice.

‘They’re both lovely,’ I told him, feeling relieved that he had flagged the date because it was the start of advent calendar season rather than anything else.

‘I wasn’t sure which one you’d like,’ he frowned.

I wondered if he’d got one for Maya too. The pair were spending more hours together than ever, but whether the extra time in the office and out in the plantation was professional or private, I couldn’t be sure. I was just gearing up to gently enquire but didn’t get the chance.

‘And of course,’ Ned tentatively said, ‘December the first isn’t just about advent calendars, is it?’

I stared at mine, willing him to stop.

‘It was also your dad’s birthday, wasn’t it?’ he carried on, ‘and the start of the festive season, as far as he was concerned.’

‘Yes,’ I said, clearing my throat. ‘Yes, it was.’

‘And with that in mind,’ Ned continued, having gained confidence from my succinct confirmation, ‘I thought we could make a start decorating the lodge today and I have something else planned too.’

‘If it’s all the same,’ I said, pushing my untouched plate away and sliding off the stool. ‘I’d rather not.’

‘But it’s all sorted.’ He beamed looking every bit as excited as Dad did when his birthday dawned. ‘I thought we could hang the paper decorations and pin up the lights. I know it’s too early for greenery and the tree, but we could do the rest. My dad said that’s what you always used to do.’

‘Ned…’

‘Dad’s shown me photos of how the lodge used to look, so we can replicate what you had before or create something completely new. It’s entirely up to you.’

Considering it was ‘entirely up to me’ he should have stopped pushing when I said I didn’t want to do it.

‘We’re supposed to be making this Christmas a good one, remember?’ he added.

As unwilling as I was to accept it, he did have a point. I had previously said that I’d make this Christmas memorable and as it was the last December the first I was going to be spending at Wynter’s Trees, I supposed I should make the effort to make it count.

‘All right,’ I said, taking back the plate. ‘We’ll do it. Though I’ll eat this first and then we’ll get the boxes out of the loft.’

‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ he said, looking like the cat who’d got the cream as he pinned our calendars side by side on the kitchen pinboard. ‘I got the boxes out last night. They’re in the utility room.’

The wave of nostalgia and plethora of memories which hit me as we unpacked the boxes was almost overwhelming. I hadn’t spent a Christmas at Wynter’s Trees in a very long time, and the boxes hadn’t been touched since someone, David I guessed, and perhaps Sue, had packed them away after Dad’s funeral.

I hadn’t stayed long enough to do anything that day. I hadn’t even come back to the lodge after the service. I had arrived at the church just a few minutes before the hearse and left swiftly after the formalities at the graveside. However, even though some of the memories associated with the decorations Ned and I carefully unpacked were painful, unwrapping the treasures felt like meeting old and long forgotten friends too.

‘Did you make this?’ he grinned, holding up a rather battered angel.

Fashioned from a loo roll tube, pipe cleaners, glitter, and paper doilies, my reception class effort looked a little rough around the edges, but at well over two decades old, that was hardly surprising.

‘I did,’ I proudly said.

‘Wow,’ said Ned, reverently setting her, or him, I couldn’t remember, to one side. ‘Your artistic talents shone through from an early age, didn’t they?’

‘Ever so,’ I laughed. ‘Anyway,’ I added, ‘you’re not supposed to be looking through those boxes. They’re all for the tree. These are the ones we want.’

We pushed the tree decoration cartons aside and dived into the others. There was plenty to choose from and Ned reminded me that the lights for the veranda along with the deer family figures I had talked Dad into buying in lieu of real, live reindeer, were all stored in the barn.

‘Can we sort those on Monday when we’re closed?’ I asked. ‘If visitors see things being set up, it sort of takes away some of the magic, doesn’t it?’

‘Spoken like a true Wynter,’ Ned laughed.

I didn’t comment, but threw a pine cone, which had somehow made its way into one of the boxes, at him instead.

‘Ow,’ he winced, as it bounced off his head.

‘Sorry,’ I grinned, failing to stifle a giggle.

‘Yeah,’ he said, rubbing the spot where it had made contact, ‘you sound it.’

He threw the cone back and I caught it, noting the mischievous look in his eye. I imagined a game of back and forth, a playful tussle, lingering eye contact, a breathless sigh and then…

‘I’ve no idea how this got in here,’ I briskly said, setting the cone to one side. ‘Dad always insisted that anything borrowed from nature, should be returned to nature.’

Then I remembered, David and Sue wouldn’t have necessarily known that. I daresay they had hastily packed everything away and returned it all to the loft. It must have been a dreadful and depressing task. I couldn’t have faced it and felt guilty that I’d left it to them.

‘There’s some more here,’ commented Ned. ‘But don’t worry, we can take them to the plantation later. I’ve got an outdoor activity planned for this afternoon.’

‘In that case,’ I said, checking the time as well as my darkening thoughts, ‘we’d better get a move on.’

Within a couple of hours, the lodge was transformed. I had taken onboard what Ned had said about creating something new and rather than try and replicate what Dad favoured, I’d put my own stylish spin on things.

There were certainly enough decorations to create a whole new design. If fact, looking at what was left, there was enough to have at least a five-year rotation. I’d settled on a green and white aesthetic and with the warmth of the wood which the lodge was built from and the clear lights, it made for a striking combination.

‘That’s the last of them,’ said Ned, as he climbed down from the ladder.

He’d been up and down more times than I cared to count since we’d started pinning up the garlands, but the effect was worth his exertions.

‘Perfect,’ I said, standing back and taking the space in.

The strands of lights were all warm white and the elaborate white garlands featured snowflakes, stars and intricate patterns. It was the kind of pared back colouring I knew Mum would have favoured over Dad’s kitsch and gaudy combinations.

‘It’s certainly different,’ said Ned.

‘The green will come in when we’ve got the tree and the holly, ivy and…’

‘Mistletoe,’ Ned smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘there might be room for that too.’ Then added, ‘we’ll have to get Maya on the case.’

I had been dropping her into the conversation all morning, but Ned hadn’t confessed how much he liked her. That said, the mention of mistletoe had sparked more of a reaction.

‘Yes,’ he smiled, shaking his head, ‘she’s the queen of that.’

Now her name had received a more positive response, I wished it hadn’t, especially given what it was associated with.

‘Although we’ll have to be careful because the berries are poisonous,’ I swiftly said. ‘We’ll have to keep it out of Bandit’s reach.’

‘That’s a good point,’ frowned Ned.

‘Perhaps I’ll order some artificial stuff online,’ I suggested. ‘I suppose we could fake it, couldn’t we? It’s not as if the stuff in here needs to be authentic because we won’t be putting it to its ancient Greek purpose.’

‘Ancient Greek purpose?’ Ned queried.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it was used during Saturnalia and later in wedding ceremonies because of its associations with fertility. It’s been used for reconciliation purposes too.’

‘Well,’ grinned Ned. ‘You never know…’

‘It must be time for a drink,’ I interrupted. ‘Do you fancy a hot chocolate?’

With a mug of velvet smooth chocolate each, we toasted the lodge and Dad’s birthday. I thought about what he would have made of my choice of decorations. Privately, I knew he would have considered them too refined, but outwardly he would have been delighted I’d put them up. He would have been ecstatic to see me finally embracing Christmas at Wynter’s Trees.

‘Are you all right?’ Ned asked, as an unchecked tear rolled down my cheek.

‘Yes,’ I said, quickly wiping it away. ‘Thanks for this, Ned. It was kind of you to take today off and make it special.’

‘It isn’t finished yet,’ he reminded me. ‘You know how much I want to make your time here memorable so there’s something else too. And I do appreciate how much courage it has taken for you to finally come back.’

‘It has taken a lot,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m pleased I’ve done it.’

‘You are?’

‘Yes,’ I said, looking around again, ‘I am. I know I could have asked you to buy my shares in a letter, email or even on Zoom, but your dad was right. It has been important for me to come back. It’s been good getting to know you, Ned. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the right person to take over.’ I added, wanting to reiterate that even though I’d helped decorate the lodge this year I wouldn’t be around to do it again.

Ned didn’t look as pleased to hear my vote of confidence as I hoped he would.

‘He’s asked me not to say anything,’ he quietly said, his words explaining his expression, ‘but Dad’s still shocked by your decision.’

I’d guessed as much. I wondered if he was still feeling that way too.

‘I know,’ I nodded. ‘But I need to move on…’

I was about to ask if he’d had any success trying to raise the funds to buy my shares but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Ned,’ said Maya, as Ned beckoned her inside. Her eyes widened as she took in the decorations. ‘But there’s a chap on the phone asking for you. I can’t make head nor tail of what he’s talking about. Something about schools and for…’

‘Tell him I’ll be right there,’ said Ned, cutting her off and thrusting his mug into my hands. ‘I’ll be back in a sec, Liza. Don’t shift any of those boxes without me.’

Ned was actually gone for ages, but I didn’t mind because I needed a little time to myself. Although enjoyable, certain moments throughout the morning had been intense. I had loved decorating the lodge, but the emotion of unpacking the decorations and the significance of the date, blended with the potentially playful moments with Ned and his admittance of David’s continued shock regarding my decision to sell, had made for a heady mix.

‘Right,’ Ned puffed, sounding out of breath as he rushed back in just as I finished tidying away the boxes. ‘Hey, I said to leave those.’

‘I’ve only dragged them into the utility room,’ I pointed out. ‘As you’d said you’d got more lined up for today, I didn’t want to waste time.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ he said. ‘Come on then. Grab your wellies.’

‘What now?’ I asked. ‘I was just about to make some lunch.’

Ned looked at the clock and shrugged off his coat.

‘I hadn’t realised it was so late,’ he tutted, then spotting the waffle maker added, ‘but I suppose I could go for a bite of something.’

‘You’re very food driven,’ I laughed. ‘I’m surprised you’re in such good shape.’

He ran a hand over his stomach which, courtesy of the day I arrived, I knew was perfectly smooth and toned.

‘Well, I’m a busy guy,’ he mischievously grinned. ‘And I know lots of ways to burn off calories.’

‘I bet you do,’ I smiled back, unable to stave off both a laugh and the flames of desire I’d been trying to tamp down.

With our appetites eventually sated – it had taken a few attempts to get the hang of making waffles – and wrapped in multiple layers, Ned and I made our way, with Bandit on our heels, across the yard. The beach huts weren’t particularly busy, but everyone was occupied so our progress towards the plantation wasn’t interrupted.

‘I hope you don’t mind that I’ve gone ahead and made a start,’ Ned said as I gasped at the sight of the Wynter’s family tree nestled in the back of the truck, ‘but it felt like today would be the perfect opportunity.’

‘Of course,’ I nodded. ‘The timing couldn’t be better.’

Having just about managed to keep my emotions in check while we decorated the lodge, I wondered if planting out the tree would be my undoing.

‘It was far too big to put in one of the carts.’ Ned smiled, with a nod at the tree before correcting himself. ‘Sorry, I mean, sleighs.’

I climbed into the passenger seat and Bandit scrambled to push his way between my feet in the footwell. It only took a couple of minutes to reach the site I had picked out and which Ned had already had his eye on and, as the plantation had been roped off to stop anyone entering without David accompanying them, we were undisturbed.

‘I can see you’ve prepped the site,’ I said, nodding at the large hole which was already dug. ‘Or was that Bandit’s part in all this?’

Ned rolled his eyes and Bandit licked my chin before we climbed out of the cab.

There was a robin hopping in and out of the hole, no doubt looking for a tasty snack. It cocked its head as I walked to the reserve boundary and tipped out the bag of cones, I’d gathered from the decoration boxes.

‘I knew it would take a while to dig out,’ Ned told me as I pushed the empty bag into my coat pocket. ‘So, I thought I’d get it ready. All we have to do now is the planting.’

He made it sound simple, but it wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Fortunately, he had taken the time to wrap the lower branches so we didn’t get too scratched as we manoeuvred it down the ramp and over to the planting hole.

‘Crikey,’ I puffed, as we pushed and pulled and Ned began cutting through the pot, while the robin scolded us for disturbing its foraging. ‘I hope I haven’t given you a hernia for Christmas.’

‘Me too,’ Ned laughed. ‘I’d like to find something far less painful in my stocking from you than that.’

My face flushed because my mind had instantly conjured an image which involved completely different hosiery and such thoughts were far from appropriate given the significance of the occasion.

‘I hate wasting the pot,’ Ned grimaced as he struggled to free the root ball, ‘but there’s no other way of getting this brute out.’

‘That’s my fault,’ I said, feeling bad. ‘I shouldn’t have forgotten about it.’

With another huge tug and with Bandit barking excitedly and skipping around us, the tree was liberated and Ned and I fell backwards on to the ground.

‘Stupid dog,’ said Ned, as Bandit jumped on him and began licking his face.

He pushed him off, scrambled to his feet and offering me a hand, pulled me up too.

‘Right,’ I said, brushing myself down, ‘let’s get planting.’

We took our time, making sure we checked the depth, then back filled the hole, before soaking the ground and adding a thick layer of organic mulch. I wouldn’t have minded taking all week, if it meant the tree would survive.

‘It will be all right, won’t it?’ I asked. ‘It won’t be too much of a shock because we’ve done this in winter instead of spring?’

‘To be honest,’ said Ned. ‘I’m not going to make any promises, but the time of year isn’t that big a deal. The site isn’t frozen or waterlogged and I’m going to keep a close eye on it, so it’s got the best possible chance of settling in.’

‘I appreciate that,’ I told him. ‘And it certainly couldn’t have stayed in the pot any longer. At least now, it’s got a shot.’

I took a few steps back and felt my breath catch in my throat. Just as I’d imagined, it was the perfect position. With the landscape of the reserve opening up beyond it and the wide Norfolk sky overhead, it was a spot fit for a very special tree, which was exactly what it was.

The agitated robin was calmer now and already flitting about the branches. What was it that Mum had always said? Robins appear when loved ones are near. I wondered if she and Dad were looking down and watching me and Ned.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked for the second time that day as he came to stand beside me and put a comforting arm around my shoulders.

‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘I’m okay.’

I stroked Bandit’s soft head and he flopped down by my feet, clearly exhausted from the excitement and exertion he had put into helping.

‘Good,’ said Ned, giving me a squeeze before gathering the tools together and brushing them off, ‘because we’re not done yet.’

The light was beginning to fade as he pulled a thick rug and insulated bag out of the back of the truck.

‘I hope you’re not too cold,’ he frowned, ‘because I haven’t got anything to drink that will warm us up.’

‘What have you got then?’ I asked, pulling the waterproof backed rug out from under his arm and spreading it out on the ground.

‘Champagne,’ he announced with a flourish as he pulled out two melamine flutes.

‘Champagne!’ I laughed.

‘Of course,’ he said, sitting down to reveal the bottle of fizz.

‘That’s extravagant, isn’t it?’

‘A little,’ he said, as I sat beside him. ‘But then this is a special occasion, isn’t it? This tree deserves a toast, as does your dad’s birthday.’

We’d already wished Dad a happy birthday with the hot chocolate but I was happy to go again. Ned popped the cork and pocketed it, before filling both flutes almost to the top.

‘Cheers,’ he said, tapping his drink against mine. ‘And welcome home. For however long you’re going to be here.’

‘Cheers,’ I said, my eyes resting on the tree. ‘And don’t you drink too much of this, not after what happened last time.’

Ned didn’t respond and when I looked at him, I saw his cheeks were as rosy as mine had been earlier.

‘I don’t want to have to listen to you singing again,’ I hastily added. ‘That would completely ruin what’s been a wonderful day.’