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I point to the donkey. He has a name? That’s such a nice name. This really shouldn’t be on my mind but we hear footsteps and Stuart leads Declan back to his stall, pushing Leo and me inside with him and closing the door. The barn door swings open and a flashlight swings up, blinding him. Leo and I creep to the corner of that stall, watching through the cracks in the door.
‘Stuart? Stuart Morton? Is that you?’ I will assume this is the Matthew that none of them like very much, unfortunately, in a woman’s dressing gown and slippers.
‘No, it’s Santa. Ho-ho-ho,’ Stuart says, disguising his voice. I try hard not to laugh. ‘You’ve been very naughty, Matthew.’
‘How’d you get in here?’ he retorts angrily.
‘Well, only a really stupid twat would have 1234 as their passcode.’
‘I’m calling police. This is theft.’
‘I’ve stolen nothing. I’m simply Santa and I’ve lost my reindeer,’ he continues in his festive tones.
‘Pathetic. Come here, I’ll beat the shit out of you.’
‘Have to catch me first, you bastard.’
And we suddenly hear the footsteps of Stuart sprinting away, other Santas jeering and Leo pulling me away from the door to hide amongst the hay bales. I feel strangely exhilarated by the experience though am very conscious that, over my shoulder, Declan the donkey is looking at us both very strangely. I don’t think there’s room for three in here, guys. I put my hand over my mouth to hold in my laughter.
‘What are we going to do?’ I ask Leo.
‘Sit tight here for a bit, creep away when it’s quiet? I know a secret back way that will lead us out on to the road again,’ he says, shrugging. Some of the light from the farmhouse illuminates his face and I love the way it catches his features and shows me every crease and line of his smile. I lean over, putting a hand to his face and steal a kiss from him. He kisses me back and we get lost in the moment as he backs me on to a hay bale, his hands searching around my waist, and we stop and look at each other, sharing a smile at the fact that this is the only time we’ve had alone since we got here. Yet, as we kiss again and the kiss gets more intense, the moment is interrupted by a long bray from our good friend, Declan here. We stop and look over at him. Can donkeys smile? I think that was him voicing his approval.
‘Sssh!’ Leo tells him. He looks over at me and gives me a final peckon the cheek.
Outside, we can still hear shouting further out on to the fields.
‘We better try and get out of here.’
Do we though? I quite like being close to him like this, fumbling around with him in the dark. I think I might be having fun.
‘Hold up though, the lads will never forgive me if I don’t do this,’ Leo tells me, getting out his phone. ‘Find a good spot,’ he says, tilting his phone towards us.
I realise what needs to be done. I get around Declan, putting an arm around him and stroking his ears. He likes that and nuzzles into me. Leo takes a picture and then positions himself in for a selfie.
‘Everyone say DONKEY!’
‘DONKEY!’
THIRTY-ONE
26th December
I awake the next morning, defrosted, recharged and still glowing from my Lakeland experience. After we took a selfie with Declan, we managed to sneak out of that barn when the other Santas provided distraction, and we made it out to the road, knackered and frozen and arriving back here looking like we’d had a roll in the hay. But the whole Christmas Day was perfect in some ways. The food, the company, the homely nature of it all that lacked pretention but was filled with love, friends and family. However, the best thing of all may be that I got to spend that time in Leo’s company.
I roll over, the duvet framing my shoulders to find though that Leo isn’t there this morning. I hear the screams of excited children outside and poke my head through the curtains to see Leo’s nieces and nephews wading through the layers of snow and making a snowman. I believe that snowman has a carrot for a knob. I’ll bet that was Nana. I smile and check my phone. It’s nine thirty so pretty late. Perhaps I couldn’t be roused and he let me lie in or maybe sleeping with his legs under the desk becametoo uncomfortable. That said, his bed is made and his clothes are folded in a pile on the pillow. I had a healthy amount of alcohol last night so my head is slightly fuzzy. I also think I can still taste brie in my mouth but I am sure that today will cure all of that. I ache for a cup of tea and one of those walks again to set me right. I’ve been told it will certainly be a more relaxed affair today. Less family, more picking on cold cuts and certainly more snoozing on the sofa – at this point, it sounds like an amazing end to my Christmas adventures.
The door creaks open suddenly and I turn to see Leo standing there with cups of tea and a couple of chocolate reindeer. I will not say no to that breakfast and smile to see him.
‘Morning,’ he whispers, stepping over me and crouching down to put the tea on a spot of carpet space. He sits on the edge of his airbed and I do my best to sit up, propping myself up against a wall space with my pillows. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Too well,’ I reply. ‘I think it was a mixture of the cold, the walk, the food and drink, and the donkey mission.’
He smiles in response but I immediately can tell that something is not quite right with the way he looks down and almost forces that grin out. I overslept, didn’t I? Or maybe I should have checked what I looked like when I woke up.
‘Did Stuart and the other Santas get away alright? Did they message you?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. They were glad we got a picture with the donkey to add to the archives,’ he says the sentence dolefully, without the mirth the situation deserves.
