Underneath the Christmas Tree

As soon as we were back inside the lodge, Ned forgot all about his hankering for a bacon sandwich but it was immediately obvious when he emerged the next morning, cradling his head in his hands, that he wasn’t going to forget the impact of six pints of lager in a hurry.

I wasn’t going to forget them anytime soon either because I’d laid awake for much of the night thinking that if he could kiss like that drunk, then what was he capable of sober. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be thinking anything like that, but in the long watches of the night, my brain seemed to have a mind of its own.

‘Morning,’ he huskily said, as he gingerly descended the stairs and slumped on a stool at the kitchen counter.

His voice was unusually deep and very sexy.

‘Good morning,’ I responded, ignoring the fluttering in my tummy. ‘I thought you were getting up extra early this morning.’

‘I planned to,’ he winced, ‘and I would have done, if it wasn’t for you and your bloody pint glasses.’

‘Don’t blame me,’ I said, wiping down the counter. ‘I was only responsible for the first one. It was Theo who kept them coming and you didn’t have to drink them, did you?’

‘I suppose not,’ he muttered.

Our fingers briefly touched as I passed him a mug of coffee and I snatched my hand away, almost upsetting the contents. Thankfully Ned didn’t seem to notice. I looked at him, tousled and rugged, and thought the best thing I could do would be to put a bit of distance between us until I got over my night-time fantasy fest. I swilled my empty mug under the tap and put it in the dishwasher.

‘Are you and Bandit going for a run?’ I asked.

Bandit’s ears pricked up, but Ned slowly shook his head.

‘I can’t,’ he groaned, sliding off the stool again. ‘Not when my head feels like this. I don’t think I’m even going to be able to manage the pounding of the shower.’

‘Have a bath then,’ I suggested, swallowing hard as an image of his wet freckled skin and water running down the length of his tattooed back filled my head. ‘I’ll take Bandit for a walk,’ I offered, desperate to get away. ‘It won’t be the same as a run, but at least he won’t be going stir crazy by the end of the day.’

‘Thanks,’ Ned smiled weakly. ‘That would be great and could you open the gate when you go out? That way everyone can let themselves in if I fall asleep again.’

I shot him a look.

‘I’m kidding,’ he said. ‘I’ll be raring to go once the painkillers have kicked in.’

‘Good,’ I sighed, ‘because I won’t be coming to wake you up in the bath.’

Ned grinned, looking more like his usual self.

‘You’ve already seen me soaking wet and wrapped in a tiny towel,’ he teased. ‘I can’t imagine there would be many more surprises.’

For the sake my sanity, I chose to ignore that.

After opening the gate, Bandit and I walked around the plantation. I could see that Ned and David had recently made a start moving some of the potted trees about, no doubt getting them in the most logical order for delivery and collection.

In just a couple of weeks the business would be beyond busy and in just over a month many of the trees would be indoors, decorated and adored then, after fourteen sparkling days, they would be back at Wynter’s, patiently marking out the next fifty weeks.

Thinking of other people’s trees and how they decorated them, pulled my thoughts back to the family one. Ned had been right to point it out and I felt bad that it was still languishing in its pot. I might still have had plenty of time to get things done, but the sooner the tree was sorted, the better.

‘Come on, Bandit!’ I called, striking off in a different direction to the one I had been thinking of going in.

For the most part, the plantation site was flat, but there was a slightly raised mound, close to the furthest boundary, which Dad said was the best spot for stargazing. When Bandit and I reached it, I could see there was nothing growing there and wondered if it would be possible to plant the tree either atop or next to it.

It felt like the ideal tribute to mark the spot where Dad and I used to lay out, wrapped in layers and with a Thermos apiece as the constellations shifted and shone. I swallowed away the lump in my throat and called Bandit to heel. I didn’t often allow myself to think too deeply about any of the few things I had enjoyed about living at Wynter’s and now, just as I was poised to part with the place for good, was hardly the time to start letting them back in.

My mobile vibrated in my pocket as Bandit and I walked along and I pulled it out, surprised to see a message from my former colleague, Caitlin. We had started our teaching careers at the same time in the school where I had eventually taken on a more nurturing role.

Caitlin taught English and her job hadn’t fallen prey to the funding cuts like mine. With a position like the one I’d taken, I’d always known redundancy was a risk and after the death knell sounded, I wouldn’t go as far as to say I felt bitter, but I hadn’t kept in touch with her as regularly as I could have done.

Hey Liza. Just a quick message to see how you’re getting on. I called round to the flat last night but you weren’t in.

I felt bad for not letting her know I had come to Wynter’s Trees for a few weeks.

I don’t know if you’re interested, but there’s talk of an art-based support position opening up at the new academy. Have you heard about it? I don’t know any details but can find out if you’re keen. Let me know! School is hell btw, but then it always is in the run up to Christmas.

Just a few weeks ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity, but not now. Caitlin was right, the few weeks leading up to Christmas were hell and the thought of going back into a school to help a few students, when my own business could be geared up to assist potentially dozens, was not an appealing thought.

But none the more for that, I didn’t have an endless amount of money at my disposal and if Ned couldn’t raise the funds to buy me out, I was going to need to do something. David had been right when he said I wouldn’t sell to just anyone and so, along with explaining to Caitlin where I was, I asked her to send on anything about the position that she could find out.

‘Bandit!’ I called, halting his sudden interest in a squirrel which had shot out of a tree. ‘Come on.’

The yard was abuzz when we got back. I left Bandit with David in the office, then went to let Wren know that I’d managed to get Ned safely back from the pub in one piece. Obviously, I gave her a doctored version of events, but she revelled in my description of his out of tune singing and subsequent thumping head.

‘Well,’ she said, adding more pairs of snowflake stud earrings to her display, ‘he’s none the worse for wear now. He was whistling when he came out of the lodge a few minutes ago.’

I was surprised, but relieved he’d negotiated his ablutions unaided.

‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ I said.

‘I think your evening together, away from here, has sorted him out,’ Wren nudged.

‘You’re making it sound like a date,’ I blushed. ‘It was hardly that.’

‘Well, whatever,’ she grinned. ‘He’s clearly back on track now.’

‘Here you go, Wren,’ said Sue, striding into the hut and thankfully putting a halt on the conversation. ‘Bunting as promised. Morning, Liza.’

‘Morning.’

‘You all right, love?’ Sue asked, scrutinising my complexion. ‘You look a bit flushed.’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, louder than I intended. ‘I’m just back from walking Bandit and it’s brisk among the trees.’

‘That explains it then,’ she accepted, before turning back to Wren.

‘And here are your earrings,’ said Wren, handing Sue a little paper envelope, embellished with her logo, which was of course, a wren.

‘Are you doing swaps?’ I asked, recovering enough to pay attention.

‘Sort of,’ said Sue, opening the envelope and moving to look in the mirror Wren had set up as she pushed the star shaped silver studs into place. ‘We thought it might be a nice touch to have a couple of things from other makers in our own huts.’

‘Abbie has promised me a wren,’ said Wren, ‘but I already know I’m not going to be able to part with it.’

‘But that won’t stop you pointing folk in the right direction to find her collection once they’ve admired it, will it?’ Sue pointed out.

‘That’s true,’ said Wren, opening out the string of festive bunting Sue had stitched.

‘This is lovely,’ I said, holding up one end, while Wren climbed on to a chair, no doubt flouting every health and safety rule Ned had written up, to hang it. ‘We could do with some in the barn.’

‘I’ve just dropped a load off,’ said Sue, tucking her grey curls behind her ears, the better to show the studs off. ‘Ned’s hanging it now.’

‘I told you he was feeling better,’ giggled Wren, as she stepped back down. ‘He wouldn’t be negotiating heights if he wasn’t.’

‘Has he been unwell?’ Sue frowned, no doubt wondering why that would be the cause of amusement.

‘Hungover more like,’ I told her.

‘He got blotto in the pub last night,’ elaborated Wren. ‘I have no idea how Liza managed to manhandle him home.’

‘He was fine,’ I said, looking back at the bunting and willing my cheeks not to flame again.

‘That looks great, Sue,’ said Wren, her gaze following mine.

‘Yes,’ said Sue. ‘It does. I’m pleased with how well that mix of patterned fabrics works together. I’ll tell you what’s not looking so good though.’

‘What?’ Wren and I chorused.

‘Santa’s little corner in the barn,’ said Sue, wrinkling her nose. ‘I’ve just been and had a look at it and it’s definitely more shabby, than chic. I didn’t notice Thursday night because of the lighting, but in the cold light of day, it’s looking a bit chipped and jaded.’

‘More grotty, than grotto?’ Wren suggested.

‘Definitely,’ Sue confirmed sadly.

I excused myself and went to have a look. Sue was right. Dad and I had painted the original backdrop together and by the looks of it, it hadn’t been touched up or repainted since. The sight of it, so dated and worn, made my heart sink, but not for long.

There was nothing I could do about it during open hours, but as soon as the last customer left and the huts were closed, I set to with the brushes and paint from the storage area and speedily began to rectify the situation and bring the mural, back to life.

‘What are you up to?’ asked Ned, when he eventually materialised from the office, long after his dad had left.

‘A bit of a touch up job,’ I said, standing back to look at all the extra bits I’d started to add. At this rate Santa and his visitors would think they really were in the snowy landscape of Lapland. ‘Sue pointed out earlier that it needed a bit of attention. It looked all right in the evening, but not quite as pristine as it used to in the day.’

‘Um,’ Ned nodded, taking a closer look, ‘I suppose it is a bit worse for wear now you’ve got the spotlights on it and I can see which bits you’ve been working on. I feel bad for not noticing before.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I shrugged, trying to sound blasé. I didn’t want him thinking my enthusiasm to bring the painting back to life meant that I was developing an attachment to the place. ‘I’ve got all this time on my hands,’ I therefore added, ‘so I might as well do something with it.’

‘Are you going to stop for supper?’ he asked, pulling out his phone to check the time. ‘Now I’m feeling better, I’m ravenous.’

‘I ate earlier,’ I said, ‘but there are some leftovers. Sophie gave us some curried crab. If you fancy it, you’ll just need to warm it through and there’s plenty of bread to go with it.’

‘Oh right,’ Ned nodded. ‘Fair enough. I’ll see you later then.’

Repainting the grotto frieze was just the excuse I needed to avoid spending the evening curled up in front of the log burner with him and Bandit and I managed to keep going long after he’d turned in for the night. Lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed the cold seeping in or how stiff my legs had got from kneeling on the floor. I felt like a pretzel by the time I locked up and hobbled back over to the lodge.

I was back out again early Sunday morning which effectively put paid to mine and Ned’s paths crossing over breakfast and given the response I’d had from Caitlin to my message, that was probably just as well.

She had promised to find out what she could about the job and ended her reply with the words ‘Ned sounds hot!’ I didn’t think I’d typed anything to imply that, but reading my message back, I realised I had put more emphasis on what he looked like than on his business credentials and thought a bit more time apart would be no bad thing.

The paint I’d added to the grotto had completely dried overnight, thanks to the efficient space heaters I’d left set on low and when Nick and Edith took up their stations ready to welcome the next line of visitors, they were both well pleased with what I’d done. The essence of what Dad and I had created was still very much in evidence but it had now been brought up to date.

‘If the queue gets really long,’ I said to Edith, ‘you could get the children to try and count all these new snowflakes.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ she beamed. ‘And the number of baubles on the tree,’ she added, looking closer. ‘I’m sure there are more than before.’

‘There are,’ I laughed. ‘Lots more!’

After I’d packed the brushes and paints away, I found the urge to carry on lingered. I hadn’t been bitten by the creative bug in a very long time, and I looked about for other things I might be able to freshen up or give a festive twist to.

‘Here you are,’ said Ned, sounding exasperated when he found me rooting about in the stores. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

I knew he had been because I’d been one step ahead of him all morning, dodging out of sight whenever he was in the vicinity. The tactic had worked, until now.

‘Well,’ I said, stumbling as I stepped back over one of the little carts used to move the potted trees about the yard when it was too busy to use the truck. ‘Here I am.’

Ned held me gently by the elbow while I regained my balance and I was so quick to pull myself free, that I nearly went over again.

‘Was there something in particular you wanted me for?’ I asked, eyeing the carts and wondering how I could make them look more Christmassy.

I was surprised Dad had left them unembellished. Practically everything else had some sort of festive themed adornment.

‘No,’ said Ned, pulling his hat further over his ears. ‘Not really. I just wanted to check in. I didn’t see you at all last night and this morning you were out of the lodge even before I was up. You are all right, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘of course. I just like to keep busy. I’m not very good at twiddling my thumbs,’ I added to ensure there was no way he could misinterpret my rising activity rate.

‘Well, the grotto looks great,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to think…’

‘What?’

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘go on.’

He pulled his hat off, ruffled his already mussed-up hair and stared down at me. I forced myself to meet his gaze and wondered if my blue eyes looked as hypnotic to him as his flecked ones did to me. He’s already told you he fancies you, an impish voice in my head reminded me.

‘What were you beginning to think?’ I asked again, sweeping my hair over my shoulder.

I already had a pretty good idea what it was, but wanted to hear him say it.

‘I was thinking,’ he said, finally breaking eye contact, ‘that for someone who claims not to care, you’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble over that mural.’

Yep, that was it.

‘Please don’t get the wrong idea, Ned,’ I beseeched him. ‘Painting the grotto has absolutely nothing to do with me falling in love with Wynter’s Trees.’

It’s all about stopping me from falling in love with you.

‘Right,’ he swallowed. ‘Fair enough.’

‘I’m just used to being busy,’ I carried on. ‘Especially at this time of year. The run up to Christmas in school is manic, so I’m not used to doing nothing in November.’

‘That makes sense,’ he said, sounding disappointed. ‘Do you miss it?’

‘Yes,’ I said, without hesitation. ‘I do, although not the festive madness. I considered my role an important one and I like to think I’d made a difference, but cuts had to be made and student welfare didn’t rank as highly as hitting targets and finding new ways to deliver the curriculum.’

‘That doesn’t make much sense to me,’ said Ned.

‘Me neither,’ I shrugged. ‘I’d far rather play a part in sending confident students who have been taught self-care and how to look after their mental health out into the world, than legions of kids who knew a bit about algebra that they’ll never use. That’s why I want to set up my own business. I’m going to combine art therapy with an emphasis on how nature and time spent outdoors can nurture and heal.’

I stopped to draw breath, conscious that it was the first time I’d said aloud what it was I was planning to do.

‘That sounds amazing.’ Ned thrilled me by saying. ‘And you’re right. Those are the skills that really count. They’re the sort of things that should be on the curriculum, aren’t they?’

‘Well,’ I grinned. ‘I think so.’

‘Your business is going to be amazing, Liza.’ He praised, making me glow inside and out. ‘I know it’s going to be a huge success.’

The businesses success depended on whether he could raise the money to buy me out, but I didn’t say as much.

‘Anyway,’ I said, turning the conversation full circle. ‘in answer to your original question, I am all right, I’m just keeping myself busy.’

I wanted to add, and not falling in love with Wynter’s Trees, but having now explained my business idea, I didn’t think I needed to further hammer the point home.

‘And out of mischief.’ Ned grinned.

His words confirmed he’d taken what I’d emphasised and explained to heart and I was grateful for that.

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ I laughed. ‘I’m always up for a bit of mischief!’

Why did I say that?

‘Oh right,’ Ned laughed back, running a hand around the back of his head, ‘well, that’s good to know.’

‘I’d better let you get on,’ I said, feeling a total fool.

‘Yeah,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘Dad wants to look at some of the potted trees before it gets dark and I want to talk to everyone before they lock up. Theo especially. I missed him yesterday and he owes me a box of painkillers.’

I didn’t want to think about painkillers because that reminded me why he had needed them, which in turn kickstarted thoughts of that cosmic kiss… that heart-stopping moment that I had been striving all weekend to ignore.

‘Talking of trees,’ I said, as he made to walk off, ‘I think I’ve found somewhere to plant the family one.’

‘Fantastic. Whereabouts?’

‘Right at the furthest boundary overlooking the reserve,’ I explained. ‘There’s a slight mound. You’ll have to tell me if you think it’s suitable or not.’

Ned shook his head.

‘You know it.’ I frowned. ‘Is it no good?’

‘Of course, I know it,’ he laughed. ‘It’s the very place I was going to suggest.’

‘Oh,’ I said, taken aback.

‘Great minds think alike,’ he grinned and then he caught my eye and I felt like I was freefalling. ‘It’s a magical spot,’ he carried on. ‘The very best for watching the stars.’

I nodded, because I didn’t trust myself to speak.

‘Ned!’ came David’s voice from the plantation. ‘Are we going to look at these trees?’

‘Yes,’ Ned shouted back, still looking at me. ‘I’m on my way.’