Page 43 of Not Just for Christmas

‘Phwoar,’ Caroline whispered in my ear as Dylan selected the winning ticket. ‘He could butter my toast in the morning, any day.’

‘Mine too,’ said Ed, joining us and wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist.

‘You weren’t supposed to hear that.’ Caroline sniggered. ‘He is sexy though, and insanely good-looking. You could do a lot worse, Lucy.’

‘I’m sure Dylan would be flattered to hear that,’ I said, refusing to be drawn.

‘He’s single.’ Ed nudged me. ‘And very eligible. Caroline told me you’re ready to start dating again. He wouldn’t be a bad option. Just saying.’

‘Well, I’m just saying it would be totally inappropriate.’ I scowled at them. ‘He was our best man. We’ve known each other for years.’

‘Precisely,’ Caroline said smugly. ‘I know it would be a lot to get your head around, but at least you know Jack loved him.’

‘None of this is relevant,’ I said briskly. ‘You’re both being weird.’

She pulled a face. ‘He agreed to join you for Christmas in a heartbeat. Why would that be, I wonder?’

‘Firstly, Sam issued the invitation, not me, remember?’ I whispered this last part just in case Dylan should be able to hear. ‘And he’s here because Sam wanted him to come to his performance.’

‘Which he has done,’ Caroline pointed out. ‘But the man is loaded, he could afford to fly in and out for the Nativity and still go and spend Christmas elsewhere.’

‘But why would he want to spend Christmas anywhere else when he could be with Sam and Lucy?’ said Ed innocently.

I didn’t have a reply for that. I wasn’t sure why Dylan had accepted our invitation, but my goal had been to give Sam the best Christmas I possibly could. And so far, so good.

Chapter 21

‘This is so generous of you!’ I said, holding a bottle of port in one hand and Champagne in the other.

There had been a huge box from Fortnum & Mason under the farmhouse porch when we’d arrived back from school. Inside was the best Christmas hamper I’d ever seen with a note which read, To Lucy and Sam, Thank you for having me to stay this Christmas, love Dylan xx

‘Somebody’s got money to burn,’ muttered Heather, slapping down the kettle on the hotplate of the Aga. ‘It all looks too fancy and frivolous for me.’

Luckily, with Gus’s excited barks and Sam’s yells of delight as he uncovered each treasure, there was so much noise that Dylan didn’t hear.

‘Thank you.’ I put the bottles down and kissed his cheek. ‘It’s the perfect gift.’

‘My mom taught me to never turn up empty-handed,’ he said, touching his face where I’d kissed him. ‘Technically, I still did because I arrived last night instead of this morning, but if I hadn’t—’

‘We get the message,’ Heather said, pursing her lips. ‘You can stop waffling now.’

‘Gotcha.’ He caught my eye and pulled a face, and we both smiled.

‘What do you think, Sam?’ I said, knowing I could rely on my son to be more enthusiastic than my uncharacteristically grumpy mother-in-law.

‘Cool!’ he replied, in an accent which sounded very like Dylan’s. He held up a bottle of wine and a tin of shortbread. ‘Can I give these to Miss Cooper for Christmas?’

‘If Dylan doesn’t mind?’ I never knew what to buy for teachers, so that was one problem solved.

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ He shrugged easily. ‘It’s yours and Sam’s; you can do whatever you like.’

I gazed at all the goodies on the table – there was everything from a ham decorated with glazed orange slices to Champagne and caviar. It made my usual supermarket haul look very boring. Perhaps Dylan ate like this all the time. My food would seem very plain in comparison. He’d put away a huge bowlful of my baked oats this morning, but then by his own admission, he’d been hungry enough to eat cardboard.

‘This will last us until Christmas,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure we need anything else now.’

‘Yes, you do. Where are the Brussels sprouts and potatoes?’ said Heather, scanning the table with a disapproving sniff.

‘Damn. Don’t tell me they left out the potatoes,’ said Dylan, winking at me.