.
It was a quiet morning at the Harts when the first delivery arrived.
Mrs Hart—Angie to her friends—was in the kitchen, absently sifting dried fruit, grated apple, sugar, nuts and spices through her fingers. A mix that, once matured, would fill her famous Christmas fruit mince tarts.
A daytime variety show was playing on the television, but Angie’s mind was more on how best to manage her down-in-the-dumps daughter than the latest lose-all-the-weight-you-want dietary shake.
Brandy fumes from the cupful she’d added to the bowl earlier were making her nose twitch with the urge to swallow a nip or two herself. But quaffing brandy at a quarter to eleven in the morning wouldn’t solve her problems or Jade’s. She wasn’t sure what would, and that was enough to send Angie on her own downer.
Angie did like to solve problems. Not in an interfering way. She was not an interfering mother. But in a kind and subtle way. A caring way.
The variety show cut to an advert. Some silly storified ad about a Christmas tree that hankered to find a family of its own and set down roots.
Ridiculous. Who on earth came up with these ideas? It wasn’t even a real tree.
The happy ad family—and its apparently newly joyous tree—gave way to an even more ridiculous advertisement for adult nappies. Or disposable pants, as the voiceover shudderingly called them.
Which made the ching-chong of the doorbell a welcome interruption.
Angie flicked sticky fruit off her hands, gave each finger a quick suck, and wiped the remaining residue on a tea towel as she hurried for the door.
She opened it and blinked at the figure partly obscured behind the steel frame of the fly screen.
‘Hello, Mrs H.’
She peered closer, then closer again. ‘Elliot?’ She flicked the screen lock and pushed open the door. ‘Elliot Lomax? Is that you?’
Jade’s childhood friend grabbed the end of his bright blue cap and tipped it. ‘The one and only.’
Angie continued to gawp. Where was the shy, lanky teen who barely said boo to a goose? Who’d worn bands across his teeth and had spots on his chin and a slouch in his skinny frame but was kind enough to help Jade with her maths homework for the simple reward of a mug of tea and a muffin or four.
‘It must be…’ Angie’s brow furrowed. ‘You must have been sixteen last time I saw you?’ That sounded about right. Jade had started her chef’s apprenticeship around then, and the maths help had stopped.
‘Seventeen.’
‘Seventeen. Goodness, you’ve filled out.’
An understatement. The spotty, nerdy teen from ten years ago was gone. Now on her step stood a man with a blue polo shirt stretched across his broad chest and one muscular arm bracing a parcel against his side. A very, very attractive man, with straight white teeth, a closely cropped dark beard, and kind brown eyes.
Another woman might be inclined to go a bit cougar. Not Angie. She was perfectly content with her Robbie, thank you very much. But her daughter Jade…
Hmm.
‘Give an old lady a kiss,’ she ordered, presenting a cheek.
‘Hardly old,’ said Elliot with a laugh, but did as he was told. Kiss done, he presented the parcel.
Angie frowned at the box, trying to remember what she’d ordered.
‘For Rob,’ said Elliot, indicating the label. And yes, there was Robbie’s name on the address label.
Angie suppressed a sigh. ‘What’s the duffer gone and bought this time?’
‘Could be a Christmas present. Diamond necklace, designer watch.’
Angie speared him a look. ‘More like a diamond tipped drill bit.’ Her Robbie loved his tools. His man-shed out the back was loaded with them. ‘Anyway, what are you doing delivering parcels? I thought you went to uni?’
‘I did. Accountancy.’ He shrugged. ‘Bored the pants off me. I ended up in logistics and found I loved it.’ He glanced at the street. This was a well-kept part of town, with tidy verges shadowed by the wide canopies of established trees. The houses tended to the Federation style, with steep roofs and gables, and fretted verandahs. A good area, pretty, and close to shops and Jade’s former school. ‘I missed home, though.’ His voice became quiet. ‘Always loved this town.’
Angie nodded. She suspected Jade missed her hometown, too. Not that her globetrotting daughter admitted that often, but Angie sensed it. Jade always seemed calmer here.
‘You’re working for Mike now?’
‘No. For myself.’ He grinned. ‘I bought his business.’
‘Good for you! I bet your mum’s thrilled to have you back home.’
Angie certainly was at the news. This delivery was proving quite a boon. Well done, Robbie, ordering that whatsit.
‘Pretty happy, yeah.’ Elliot glanced at his watch. ‘Anyway, Mrs H, I’d better chug along. Normally I’d be in the office but it’s a bit of a madhouse after the Black Friday sales.’
‘And only going to get worse with the silly season coming up.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He lifted his cap and rubbed his hairline. No sign of an approaching widow’s peak. Young Mr Lomax was looking better and better. ‘Still, it’s what I signed up for.’ He glanced at the hall behind Angie, his voice casual when the question clearly wasn’t. ‘Is Jade coming home for Christmas?’
Bingo.
‘Oh,’ said Angie airily. ‘She’s already home.’
Elliot’s eyes widened. His gaze darted back over Angie’s shoulder to the hall. ‘She is?’
‘She is. Catching up with an old girlfriend right now, but definitely home.’
‘Right. Good.’ He twisted his watch, clearly torn between the need to leave and wanting to know more about Jade. Then he checked the time again and puffed out a breath. ‘Tell her I said hello?’
‘I certainly will. You take care, Elliot.’
‘You too, Mrs H.’
With a final hat tip, he strode for his truck, giving Angie an excellent view of his long legs and tight bum.
‘Hmm,’ she said, tapping her chin as the truck trundled down the street. ‘Hmm.’
Jade hobbled into the kitchen, took a stool at the breakfast bar and immediately reached over to poke a finger into the cake batter Angie was in the final stages of folding together. It’d be December soon, and Angie prided herself on maintaining a well-stocked party season freezer, with food to suit any occasion.
She resisted the urge to smack her daughter’s hand. There’d be no smacking this afternoon, not with Jade looking bright for once. Time out with her friend had buoyed her mood. Besides, her daughter was twenty-seven, not seven.
‘Nice,’ said Jade, when she’d finished sucking her finger.
‘I should hope so. It’s your great-grandmother’s recipe.’
Jade frowned at the bowl. ‘Do I have that one?’
‘Don’t think so.’ Angie gave the mix another gentle fold, careful not to squash any air out. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it was posh enough for you cheffie types.’
Jade gave her a rolly-eyed look.
‘How did your leg hold up?’
Jade regarded the bulky moonboot covering her foot and ankle with a screwed-up nose. ‘It was fine.’
‘Not aching?’
She shrugged. ‘A bit. Nothing I can’t handle.’
‘No,’ said Angie, passing her the metal spoon to lick, poignancy stabbing her chest. It was almost like old times. Angie baking something, Jade on the stool in the kitchen, chatting while she waited for her treat.
Angie had been pained terribly when Jade arrived home from Canada tired, forlorn and discouraged, having lost both her boyfriend and her working visa. The boyfriend wasn’t a loss, in Angie’s opinion. She’d only met him once, and that was enough. Arrogant so-and-so.
The visa, however, was a different matter. Jade had loved working in Canada and was looking forward to another boom ski season. Except the boyfriend had also been her boss, had influence in the industry, and spitefully badmouthed her to all his restaurant and hotel mates to prevent her from scoring another position. Horrible man. Angie hoped he dropped a knife on his foot. Or a cleaver. Maybe both.
If that wasn’t enough, Angie’s once bright, happy daughter had then tripped over a wayward suitcase at the airport’s luggage collection and broken her ankle. Angie still shuddered when she remembered the snap of it and Jade’s anguished cry. A cry that wasn’t all physical pain, but hopelessness too. A broken-hearted cry.
Instead of the warm family dinner she’d planned, with a barbeque and Jade’s favourite passionfruit topped pavlova for dessert, they’d spent half the night at the hospital waiting for Jade’s ankle to be assessed. By the time they arrived home, Jade was too exhausted to do much more than smile wanly at the “Welcome Home” banner and decorations Angie had strung around the back patio before limping up the hall for an awkward wash and bed.
Matters had improved little from there, despite Angie’s best efforts. There’d been outings, home-cooked meals, family get-togethers, visits from old friends and while Jade had smiled through them all, her mouth didn’t turn as high, and her eyes didn’t crinkle and sparkle as they should. Jade’s sadness weighed heavily.
So it was nice to see her a bit perkier.
Angie used a spatula to scrape the cake batter into the tin she’d prepared. ‘You’ll never guess who came to the door today.’
‘I don’t know. Santa?’
‘Much fitter.’ Much better looking, too. She smoothed the top of the cake, but her gaze was slid sideways, watching Jade. ‘Elliot Lomax.’
‘Elliot? What was he doing here?’
‘Delivering a parcel for your father.’
‘But…’ Jade frowned. ‘Isn’t he an accountant or something?’
‘Was. Apparently, he found it boring and moved into logistics. And he missed home. He bought Mike Adam’s business. Happy as a pig in mud.’
‘Wow.’ Although Jade didn’t sound that wowed. She sounded ambivalent, which was not ideal.
‘He’s grown.’
‘Hardly a surprise, Mum. He’s the same age as me.’
‘Into quite an attractive man.’
Jade snorted. ‘That’s not much of an endorsement. You think that bloke on that game show you watch is attractive.’
Angie lifted her chin. ‘I’ll have you know Damien Cole is very attractive. You have no taste.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jade, her voice hollow. ‘Tell me about it.’
Angie blew out a breath at her faux pas. That rotten ex of Jade’s had a lot to answer for. Knife, cleaver and carving fork in the foot wouldn’t be enough.
Jade slid off her stool, wincing as her boot hit the ground. ‘Will you be right here? I’m going for a lie down.’
‘I’ve been baking longer than you’ve been alive. I’ll be fine.’ Angie softened her tone. ‘You rest. It’s been a tough time. Won’t hurt to take it easy for a while.’
‘Not much of a choice right now.’ Using the bench as a crutch, she hobbled around and kissed Angie’s cheek. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
Angie watched with concern as Jade made her slow way down the hall. Then, with a long exhale, she placed the cake in the oven and set the timer for twenty-five minutes. When the bench was clean and the dishwasher loaded, she stood staring out at the patio, drumming her fingers on the edge of the sink.
What to do? What to do?
But nothing came to mind.
Robbie deposited the Christmas tree box in the lounge alongside the two other boxes of decorations and slapped his hands together to rid them of dust. ‘There you go, love. Just as ordered.’
Angie kissed his whiskery cheek. She’d married the best of men. ‘Thanks, love.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No. You go back to your shed.’
‘Righty-o. Yell if you need me.’
‘Okay,’ said Angie when he’d left. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
It was December first, one of Angie’s favourite days of the year because it was the day the Harts decorated their house. Or, rather, Angie decorated. Robbie either humped stuff around or stayed out of trouble.
Life was so much more joyous with tinsel and baubles, and how could anyone not smile at the Santa that danced and sang Jingle Bells whenever you touched its base? Or at Fanny, the stuffed hot pink flamingo that had nothing to do with the season, but which Jade had fallen in love with at age four and insisted on it joining in the fun, and had now become tradition?
She opened the tree box, smiling at the sight of a tree that she and Robbie had bought for Jade’s first Christmas. Its branches were a bit tatty and faded, and the fronds were more olive grey than pine green, but it was a lovely thing.
‘Give me a hand, love?’
Jade rose from the lounge and hobbled over. ‘I can’t believe you still have this. I thought you’d have tossed it years ago.’
‘Oh, it does the job. And at least I know how to put it together.’
Jade laughed and nudged her mum. ‘Silly bugger.’
Angie gave an internal cheer. She knew Jade would perk up once Robbie brought the tree box out. Christmas could be magic like that.
She dug around for the stand. ‘Ah, there we go.’
Angie unfolded the stand and set it on the hand-quilted red rug—one of Robbie’s nanna’s masterpieces—she’d placed in front of the lounge’s tiled fireplace. She and Jade took turns in fitting the trunk pieces until, standing on a stool, Angie fitted the last piece to the top.
Then came the unfolding—the pulling down of the individual branches and opening the branchlets.
‘Oh dear,’ said Angie as with each tug the tree shed more and more plastic fronds. Fortunately, there were enough left to keep the tree pine-like, but she didn’t like the way the fatigued wires caused the branches to droop. Still, no one would notice once the baubles went on.
They continued to decorate. Jade hooking on ornaments and stepping quickly back as though fearing the tree might collapse on her. Yes, it was looking a touch bowed, and yes, the floor would need a solid vacuum when they’d finished, but Angie had faith in the old tree.
‘Um… Mum?’
‘Mmm?’ said Angie, distracted by her hunt for the Christmas star. Except for this last embellishment, the tree was done, and as expected, looked fine now it was covered in sparkly things. Even Jade had grinned when she positioned Fanny the Flamingo at its base.
‘Mum, I think the tree might be collapsing.’
She spun around. ‘What?’ Then her eyes bulged. ‘No. Oh, no, no, no.’
Angie raced to the tree, hands fluttering uselessly about as she attempted to stop the disintegration. But the tree had had enough. The years had left it exhausted, unable to bear the weight of all that glitter and expectation. Branches sagged. Fronds drifted floorward like green dandruff. A snap sounded as a glass bauble hit the carpet and cracked.
‘Oh! Help me, quickly. Help me.’
Together, Angie and Jade tugged at the family’s most precious decorations. The Swarovski crystal angel that Robbie had tearfully presented to Angie the year she’d miscarried what should have been their second child. The exquisite stained-glass mini nativity scene passed down through Angie’s family for years. Hand blown and decorated baubles collected on travels or sent by Jade from overseas.
By the time they’d stripped the tree, it was clear there was no saving it. Angie’s mouth wobbled. This was so unfair. The tree was supposed to bring joy and magic, not fail so catastrophically.
She pulled herself together. So what if it had watched Jade grow from baby to adult? It was a plastic tree. Not even real.
She glanced at Jade. Tears were dribbling down her cheeks.
Angie slung an arm around her and hugged her close. ‘It’s okay, darling girl. It’s okay. It’s just a silly old tree.’
But Jade’s gaze remained fixed. ‘Bit of a metaphor, isn’t it?’
‘No, honey. No.’
Angie squeezed harder, but Jade shrugged away. She wiped her eyes on her arm and sniffed. ‘I think I might have a lie down, if that’s okay?’
‘Of course it’s okay. I’ll clean up. But please, sweetie, remember it’s just a tree. A very old tree that had had its time. It doesn’t mean anything.’
Jade gave another of her wan smiles. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I know you loved it.’
‘I did. But you know what? Things can be fixed.’
And Angie was jolly-well going to do just that.
‘Can you get that, honey? I’m knee-deep in dough.’ Angie listened for her daughter’s footsteps, then yelled again. ‘Jade! Can you grab the door?’
Finally, an uneven clump sounded as Jade hobbled her way down the hall. Angie held her breath, head cocked, listening hard as the clumps neared the front door. The door opened, followed by the click of the screen being unlocked.
‘Jade! Hey, great to see you.’
A moment’s silence, then a gobsmacked sounding, ‘Elliot?’
Angie’s breath came out in a whoosh. It hadn’t been much of a plan—order one of those flash trees from the television ad, the one where the tree hankers to find a forever home, then pray that not only would Jade be home and available to answer the door when it arrived, but that it would be Elliot doing the delivery.
She’d received notice of the delivery window earlier that morning. With that in mind, Angie had set about making sticky gingerbread rolls, a delicious but pain-in-the-backside-to-make recipe that, with the right timing, would see her busy either stretching out dough, making the spiced buttery filling, or forming buns when the doorbell went.
A clang sounded as the screen door closed. Jade and Elliot were talking, but their voices were indistinct. Jade must have moved onto the porch.
Angie held up her floury fingers and tiptoed across the kitchen. She curled her head around the corner and peeked down the hall. Elliot and Jade stood in the shade of the porch, Elliot with one hand on the end of a tall box, Jade looking up at him. There didn’t appear to be much delivery making in progress.
‘I am a genius,’ whispered Angie to herself, and quickly returned to pressing her dough into a large rectangle. She spread spiced butter over its surface, then rolled the dough up tightly into a log. With a floured knife, she cut the log in half, sliced each half into six even pieces, and laid the rolls cut side up onto a tray. A quick cover of with plastic wrap and she was free.
She snatched up a tea-towel and hurried for the porch.
‘Elliot! How wonderful to see you again.’ Angie held out her cheek for him to kiss.
Good boy that he was, he obliged. ‘Mrs H. Wow. You smell like gingerbread.’
‘Gingerbread sticky buns. Come back in an hour or so and you can have one straight from the oven.’
‘I wish I could. Maybe another time.’
‘Anytime. You’re always welcome here, Elliot.’ Angie waved at the box. ‘I do believe you have our new Christmas tree.’
‘Seems like it.’ He patted the box’s top. ‘Would you like me to bring it inside for you?’
‘It’s fine. You have enough on your plate. Robbie can take care of it.’
‘I can spare five minutes. In the lounge, near the fireplace?’
‘You remember?’
Elliot glanced meaningfully at Jade and hoisted up the box. ‘I remember.’
Angie resisted the urge to perform a fist pump.
Instead, she swung the door wide and held it, beaming at Elliot as he swept past like the box weighed nothing when she knew from the website the package weighed nigh on twenty kilograms.
She snuck a look at her daughter. Jade’s eyes were on Elliot’s bulging arms. Angie couldn’t blame her. They were very impressive arms indeed.
‘Just there will be fine,’ said Angie, following behind Elliot, Jade on her tail and hobbling curiously faster than normal.
Elliot set the box next to the quilted Christmas rug and took a moment to survey the lounge. Spotting Fanny, he let out a bark of laughter. ‘I remember the flamingo.’ He addressed Jade. ‘That was yours, wasn’t it? You loved that thing.’
‘Yeah, well.’ Jade shrugged, cheeks colouring. Then she hobbled over and stroked Fanny’s worn head. ‘How could you not?’
‘No. I suppose you’re right.’ He checked the time and his expression fell. ‘Sorry, I’ve really got to get going. Great to see you again, Mrs H.’ His steady gaze met Jade’s. ‘You too, Jade.’
With a salute, he strode for the door and was gone.
‘Well,’ said Angie, standing over her large delivery with her hands on her hips. ‘I guess we’d better get the box cutter.’
Half an hour later, bubble wrap and discarded cardboard littered the lounge, and a luxurious new Christmas tree stood pride of place on its rug.
Angie and Jade regarded it.
‘It’s very green,’ said Jade.
‘It’s magnificent,’ replied Angie, her chest full of a strange pride. It was just a Christmas tree, and a plastic one bought off the internet at that. Except this one felt special, which was very odd when, unlike the old tree, it had no history at all.
This one felt almost… real.
She moved to caress a frond. So soft. She stepped all around the tree, admiring its bushiness, its classic Christmas tree silhouette, its impressive height—over two metres. Even undecorated, it was beautiful. Angie couldn’t wait to dress it up.
She had the uncanny feeling that the tree couldn’t wait, either.
Odd, very odd indeed.
‘Ornament time,’ she said, clapping her hands and doing a little jig.
‘Weren’t you making scrolls?’
‘Oh, hell.’ Angie dashed off to the kitchen.
Typically for December, the day was warming rapidly. Her buns were probably already proven enough for baking and she’d yet to turn on the oven.
‘I set the alarm to let me know when the oven gets up to speed,’ she said, returning to the lounge. ‘Hopefully the buns won’t be over-proved.’
‘They’ll be fine, Mum. Since when have you ever done a bad bake?’
‘Many times, my darling girl. Many times. Just ask your father.’ But Angie smiled at the compliment, and because Jade seemed brighter since they’d unpacked the tree. Or maybe it was Elliot’s visit. She hoped for the latter. Angie had plans.
Delicious yeast and gingerbread aromas were leaching from the kitchen by the time the tree was finished. The only ornament yet to be put in place was the star—hand crafted using silver wire and mirrors by Robbie as a celebration of their first Christmas as a married couple.
‘I’d better check on those buns,’ said Angie, leaving Jade to it and bumping into Robbie as she exited. ‘Oh, hello, darling. Come to inspect our new tree?’
‘More like the buns,’ quipped Jade.
‘They do smell good,’ said Robbie, hands on his hips as he stood at the entrance to the lounge, head nodding with approval. ‘That’s a fine-looking tree.’
Angie smiled at it. As anticipated, the tree was even more glorious with colour and sparkles and family history now adorning its branches. ‘It is, isn’t it? I’m very pleased.’
‘As you should be,’ said Robbie, grabbing her around the waist and sneaking in a quick snog.
‘Urgh,’ said Jade, but Angie heard the laughter in her voice.
‘Help Jade with the star,’ she ordered Robbie, easing out of his embrace. ‘Then we can have buns.’
Robbie kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Deal.’
With the buns on a cooling rack and the kettle on, Angie returned to the lounge to find father and daughter admiring their handiwork. Robbie’s arm was draped across Jade’s shoulders, while her arm wrapped his waist, her head rested against his chest. The mirrored star glittered at the very top of the tree, Fanny standing proudly pink at its base.
Tears pricked Angie’s eyes at the sight. And the moment. Angie would never hold her daughter back from her globetrotting lifestyle, but it was so truly wonderful to have her home. To be together as a family again.
‘There you are,’ said Robbie, opening his free arm in invitation. Angie slid into it and cuddled against him.
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘It’s lovely,’ said Jade, a slight hoarseness to her voice, and Angie wondered what or whom she was thinking about. Hopefully not that rotten ex of hers.
‘It’s very fine,’ said Robbie. ‘Especially that star. That’s a gun piece of craftmanship.’
Robbie oofed as Jade nudged him. ‘As you don’t mind saying yourself.’
The kettle whistled. Robbie flexed as he gave them both a squeeze and dropped his arms. He rubbed his hands together, bright gaze on the entrance to the kitchen. ‘Must mean it’s bun time.’ He winked at Jade. ‘Your mum has great buns.’
Jade made a choked noise. ‘Dad!’
Angie pushed her rogue of a husband in the direction he wanted to go and gestured for Jade to follow. She watched them fondly, then, on impulse, blew a kiss at the tree.
‘You’re a fine fellow, Mr Tree,’ she said, moving off. ‘A fine fellow indeed.’
She paused and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. What on earth was she thinking, talking to a plastic tree?
Honestly, she was turning into a silly old woman. A sentimental, silly old woman.
With a huff, she strode off. She was almost at the door when a noise sounded. A sort of susurration, like leaves shimmering in a breeze, or tinsel rustling.
Frowning, she looked back. The tree stood still. Not a bauble swaying nor a frond shivering. Just a tree.
She cast around the rest of the room, her gaze lighting on the littered packaging. Of course. The bubble wrap must have moved. Although she couldn’t feel a breeze, not even a puff.
‘Ang?’ Robbie called from the kitchen. ‘Cuppa’s ready.’
Which in Robbie-speak meant he was hungry for his treat.
Angie gave the tree one last look and, chuckling again at her daftness, hurried off.
Angie sat alongside the kitchen bench with a notebook and pen and iPad at the ready. What to order next?
There were only two and a half weeks to Christmas, and she was running out of items that could be guaranteed to arrive in time, and poor Elliot was looking increasingly harried each time he turned up. But the lovely boy—man, she supposed now—always spared them a moment, especially if Jade answered the door.
She tapped her pen. Surely the Hart household would not be complete without a replica vintage mantel clock? Or a Christmas tree-shaped cake mould?
With a sigh, Angie set down her pen. The trouble with the Hart house was that they already had what they needed. Well, most things. Some grandchildren would be nice, but you couldn’t order those off the internet.
She wandered through the house, hunting for gaps. Jade’s bedroom door was open. Angie smiled wistfully at the neatly made bed and stacks of folded clothes. There’d been a time when even a hint that Jade should tidy her room would cause a minor meltdown.
Teenage hormones had a lot to answer for.
She wandered back to the lounge. ‘What do you think, tree?’ she asked, giving one of its branches a stroke.
It had become a bit of a habit, this touching. She didn’t know why. The tree was soft, yes, but it’s not like it released any pine scent when she did it. It was calming, though. Like stroking a puppy.
The tree, of course, didn’t answer. Angie wandered to the French doors and stared out with her arms folded. She scanned the front yard, the plants trimmed and tidy, bright with good health thanks to Robbie. The only Christmas decoration was a solar-powered family of reindeer that glowed a warm gold in the darkness and looked elegant against Robbie’s pristine lawn.
There had been a time, when Jade was a child, where they went the whole hog—fairy lights hanging from every tree and gutter, giant inflatable Christmas figures swaying in the heat, the Three Wise Kings parading along the roof. But time and environmental concerns—well, the electricity bill—and Jade leaving home had seen them mellow.
Angie preferred it this way. It was easier on Robbie and suited the genteel tone of the street better.
She turned away. Robbie would be in for lunch soon and there were sandwiches to prepare. Jade was meeting an old girlfriend at the Royal Oak, the pub where she’d started her apprenticeship, for a bistro meal and drinks. Angie had dropped her down and promised to pick her up when she finished so Jade could enjoy herself.
And she desperately wanted Jade to enjoy herself. If she did, she might remember the wonders of home and stay.
Angie’s hand automatically reached out for the tree as she passed. The brush of its needles left a tickling tingle on her palm.
‘Good tree,’ she said, then grinned as she realised exactly what she could order.
She was nearly in the kitchen when she heard it. The same sweet, shimmery sound that had confused her the day the tree went up. Except there was no bubble wrap on the lounge floor this time. No breeze, no fan. No distant door closing, causing a gust.
Slowly, Angie turned around. The sound stopped. The tree, as before, was still. She took a step closer, eyes narrowed at the baubles, looking for the minutest jiggle. She took another step, then another, until she stood a foot from the tree.
What did the ad say? Something about the tree searching for a home, somewhere to put down roots. Except the tree didn’t have roots. It wasn’t real.
And yet, and yet… That shimmer. Like the tree was… happy.
‘Are you…’ She reached for a frond, as though about to shake it like a dog’s paw, then gave a honk of laughter.
Seriously? She was about to ask a plastic tree if it was alive?
She pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. Had to be the pressure of Christmas or worry over Jade. There was no other explanation. Not one that made sense.
The tree hadn’t moved. It couldn’t move.
Taking slow, careful steps, Angie backed away from the tree, watching it. Only when she reached the entrance to the kitchen did she turn her back and head for the bench and her iPad.
‘Guess who I bumped into?’ said Jade when Angie came to pick her up.
Angie hoped it was Elliot, but that would be impossible. The poor man was busy enough without taking time off for a pub meal. ‘I don’t know. The Pope?’
Jade poked out her tongue. She’d clearly had a few wines at lunch and was looking cheery, if a little glassy eyed. ‘Daniel.’
‘Daniel Jameson?’ Dan had been Jade’s first boss, and a good one.
‘Yeah. Did you know he’s bought the old Railway Hotel? He’s going to do it up and turn it into boutique accommodation and,’ she said, finally securing her seatbelt, ‘a bar and fine dining room.’
‘Like one of those destination hotels?’
‘Yup.’
‘Wonderful idea. The town could do with something like that.’
‘It gets better,’ said Jade, drawing the last word out. ‘Turns out he’s looking for a chef to head it up.’
Angie’s heart gave a brief hiccup, then began to race. ‘Oh? And?’
‘He asked if I might be interested.’
For a long moment excitement made her speechless. She concentrated on navigating the traffic before managing an, ‘And are you?’
Jade shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t see the reno being complete any time soon. That place is a dive, so it could take forever. That’s a long time without work.’
It likely would be. The Railway Hotel, while still operating, would have been lucky to see a paintbrush in the last thirty years. The work involved in bringing it up to destination hotel standard would be huge. It was on the historic register too, which would add red tape, time and cost.
But the benefits… To Jade, to the town, to Angie and Robbie.
‘An excellent opportunity, though.’
‘Yeah. It is.’ Jade shrugged again. ‘We’re going to talk in the new year.’
Angie thought about the special gift she’d ordered for Jade. Perhaps she might not need it.
Angie could only hope.
A week later, Elliot was back at the door and Angie in the kitchen. Except she didn’t have to yell this time. Jade was hobbling to answer the doorbell the moment it rang.
She kept an ear out as she iced a fruit mince flavoured cupcake with spiced buttercream. When the cake was done, she set it and another into a takeaway container, sealed the lid and carried it down the hall.
Jade and Elliot both had their hands on the small parcel Elliot was delivering but stepped apart the moment they noticed Angie.
‘Your timing couldn’t be more perfect,’ she said, as though nothing was amiss. Because nothing was amiss. It was all rather perfect. Well, nearly. She held out the container. ‘Some cake to keep you going.’
‘Mrs H, you’re a doll. Thanks.’ Elliot eased open the lid and breathed in with his eyes closed. ‘Delicious.’
‘Now, what are you doing on Saturday night?’ Angie ignored Jade’s wide eyes. ‘It’s the annual Hart Christmas party, and we’d love you to come.’
Elliot flicked a look at Jade, who was still staring at her mother, and puffed out a breath. ‘Saturday’s looking pretty mad. We’re working seven days in the lead up to Christmas.’
‘An hour. Whenever you can make it. The door will be open all night.’ Angie’s mouth curled into one of her slyest smiles. ‘There’ll be suckling pig. On the spit.’ She dropped her tone even lower and added an eyebrow wiggle for good measure. ‘And punch.’
‘No,’ said Jade, before facing Elliot. ‘Whatever you do, don’t drink the punch. That stuff is lethal.’
Angie leaned even closer and drew out her trump card with Marilyn Monroe breathiness. ‘Passion… fruit pav… lov… a.’
Elliot laughed and tossed up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, okay, you got me. I’ll come.’
She straightened, all business now she had her way. ‘Good lad. Now, doors open at six, but you pop in whenever. And don’t bring anything. All we want is you.’
Mission complete, Angie plucked her parcel out of Jade’s hands and strode back to her icing, Jade’s ‘I’m sorry about Mum. She takes her Christmas party pretty seriously…’ echoing in her wake.
Along with the faint sound of dancing leaves.
‘We have a gift for you,’ said Angie.
It was party night but she, Robbie and Jade were in the lounge, taking a welcome breather from preparations. Scents of roasting pork floated in through the back door, while Christmas carols piped softly from a speaker. It was still daylight and would be for some time, but the sun had lowered, and light caressed the tree, making it sparkle prettily.
Jade gave her parents a bemused look. ‘It’s not Christmas yet.’
‘We know, but it doesn’t hurt to get something early.’ Angie smiled up at Robbie and back at Jade. Then she reached under the tree and plucked a small, wrapped parcel, and presented it to Jade. ‘For you, from us.’
Jade regarded the parcel, then tore at the paper. Robbie draped his arm around Angie’s shoulder and squeezed. The box was blue with a stylised silver swan embossed on top. Jade gasped, then glanced at them before carefully lifting the lid.
She stared and stared. ‘A flamingo,’ she whispered, her voice catching. ‘A crystal flamingo.’
‘To remind you, wherever you are in the world, of Fanny and Christmas at home.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Jade sniffed loudly, then with a laugh, threw her arms open. Robbie and Angie fell into them. Seconds later, they were all blubbering.
‘Are you going to hang it?’ asked Angie, flicking a finger under each eye to clear the tears. She’d have to double check her makeup now. Not to worry. It was worth it.
‘Of course. Take some photos?’
Photos and another group hug done, the family headed back to their chores—Jade to dress properly, Robbie to check his spit roast. Angie found herself alone with her tree.
‘That went well, didn’t it, tree?’
The tree didn’t answer. Of course it didn’t answer.
She huffed. What was she doing? It was twenty to six. She needed to check her makeup, put the vol-au-vents Jade had expertly prepared in the oven, and be ready to greet and pour drinks for early arrivals.
No time for silly tree chats. Especially one that didn’t know how to converse back.
Shaking her head, Angie marched off only to halt mid step when the room filled with a faint quivering sound. The tree. Rustling.
Slowly, she turned around and lasered narrow eyes on it.
Not a frond moved. Only Jade’s crystal flamingo had a shallow swing. Angie released a peep. A weird, almost frightened sound, like a mashed together ooh and squeak.
Except she wasn’t frightened. Yes, her heart was hammering, and her breath felt locked, and her mouth had lost all moisture, but she wasn’t frightened. She was thrilled.
‘Gotcha.’
The swinging stopped. All was still.
She waited.
The tree waited.
Just as Angie thought she might burst, over the speaker came the opening strains of ‘O Christmas Tree’.
Her eyes widened. Was the tree… venerating itself?
No. She shook her head. Impossible.
Impossible.
The doorbell rang.
‘Coo-ee!’ The distinctive voice of Angie’s best friend, Caitlyn. ‘Anybody home?’
Oh, yes indeed, there were bodies home at the Hart house. Including, it seemed, their new Christmas tree.
‘Your tree looks amazing,’ said yet another guest, an ex-neighbour who had moved into retirement living but remained a good friend.
The party was in full swing. Angie was handing around canapes, checking everyone had full glasses, and monitoring the gathering’s happiness.
‘Thanks. I wasn’t sure when I ordered it. I thought it’d be all plastic-y, but it’s surprisingly real.’
In more ways than one.
The ex-neighbour leaned closer. ‘Jade’s looking happy. Especially after, you know.’
Angie suppressed a sigh. Small towns and their grapevines. She glanced at her daughter. She did seem happy. Beautiful, in fact. Alive and bright and smiling, which may or may not have had something to do with how close Elliot was standing. Angie certainly hoped it was.
He’d arrived at seven with a box of fancy chocolates and a bottle of champagne, fatigue crinkling his eyes, but a wide grin splitting his face. A grin that only grew wider when he spotted Jade in her Christmassy red dress, her long hair knotted in a loose chignon, and red and green Christmas tree earrings dangling from her ears.
Elliot had barely stepped away from her side since.
The party carried on. Suckling pig was carved, salads were laid out on the kitchen table and bench. People ate, drinks flowed, and the friendly chatter rang loud.
Angie found herself constantly near the tree, touching a frond now and then, thinking that its leaves felt strangely warm. It was likely only heat generated by the milling guests, but as the evening progressed and people began departing, the tree’s warmth remained.
There were barely half a dozen guests left when Elliot approached. ‘Fantastic party, Mrs H.’
‘You’re off?’
‘Yeah. Sorry but I’m bushed.’
He looked it too, poor man. The lines around his face had deepened, and red veins grew in the corners of his eyes. He was still smiling, though. Still lovely, kind Elliot.
‘Poor thing.’ Angie placed her palm on his forearm. ‘Thanks for making the effort to come. Robbie, Jade and I appreciate it.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’ He gestured toward the end of the lounge, where Robbie was gossiping with his eldest brother. ‘I’ll just thank Rob and be off.’
Angie tried not to be disappointed at his lack of mention of Jade.
Elliot said a few words to Robbie and shook his hand, then strode for the front door. He’d just grabbed the screen handle when Jade appeared from the hall behind. Elliot grinned, pushed the door open for her, and the pair disappeared to the patio.
The tree gave a faint rustle.
‘Not now,’ Angie whispered, giving it a brief stroke. She didn’t have time for her attention-seeking tree. Things were afoot outside.
She shouldn’t spy. She really, really shouldn’t, but it was Christmas and Christmases were made for magic. What was more magical than falling in love?
Gathering empty glasses as she went, Angie worked her way to the front French doors and positioned herself to one side so as not to be too obvious. Jade and Elliot were in the street, standing at the front of his van, facing one another. Elliot was holding both of Jade’s hands like she was the most precious of people. Reflected gold from the front garden’s reindeer family traced them like a blessing.
‘Oh,’ said Angie, heat prickling the backs of her eyes. She set the glasses down before she dropped them, then folded her hands prayer-like together in front of her mouth.
Very slowly, Elliot leaned in. He was smiling and, from what she could tell, Jade was too. The pair kissed, cautiously at first, then with more enthusiasm.
Angie turned away, eyes filling with hot, happy tears.
‘You all right there, love?’
Robbie. Darling Robbie. Just the man she needed.
‘Yes.’ She sniffed. Silly, sentimental thing she was. ‘Just fine.’
Robbie frowned at her, then eyed the window. ‘Ah.’
‘I know. It’s very ah.’
‘Come here,’ said Robbie, enfolding Angie in his special embrace and stroking her hair. ‘He’s a good lad.’
‘He is. A wonderful lad.’ She softly poked a finger in his side. ‘Reminds me of you.’
Robbie laughed and kissed her forehead. ‘Come on. Let’s get this lot cleaned up so I can take you to bed and show you how wonderful I can really be.’
Thanks to help from Caitlyn, Robbie’s brother and a few others, they had the lounge cleared and dishwasher loaded in no time. With nothing left to do, the remaining guests began filtering toward the door, sharing hugs and calling farewells, reaching the entranceway just as Jade stepped inside.
Her cheeks were flushed, her chignon a bit messed, but her joy was undeniable. Angie’s heart felt too big for her chest. She had her darling girl back.
Jade glanced into the lounge. ‘Oh, Mum, have you cleaned up without me?’
‘It’s fine, love. It didn’t take long with everyone mucking in, and you were busy.’
Jade went even pinker. ‘Mmm.’
Angie only laughed, patted her shoulder, and returned to her farewells.
Finally, the guests were gone. Jade retreated to her room. Robbie headed off to brush his teeth. Angie silenced the carols and began flicking off lights, leaving the lounge to last.
She stood in front of her tree and touched a frond. ‘I know you’re not real. I know you’re not alive. But maybe you’re a little bit magic?’
Angie traced her gaze over its length. Nothing. Not even a swinging crystal flamingo.
She nodded. Of course. Her tree liked its secrets. ‘Well. Thank you, tree. And welcome to the Hart family.’
She watched it for several moments more until footsteps sounded from behind and Robbie’s arms folded her against his chest. He set his chin on Angie’s shoulder to regard the tree as she did.
‘Everyone loved it,’ he said. His breath was toothpasty, his arms warm, his hold as solid and loving as when they first met.
‘They did.’ She stretched her neck to look back at him. ‘I think it’s like the ad said it would be. The tree is part of the family now. It’s found where it belongs and set down roots.’
‘Good tree.’
‘Yes.’
Robbie nuzzled her. ‘Good family.’
Angie laughed and turned in his arms. ‘Very good family.’
Hand in hand, they left the room, flicking off the last of the lights as they went.
Angie didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The shimmering sound behind her said it all.
Christmas magic.
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© Cathryn Hein 2024
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