Page 72 of Not Just for Christmas

‘Yes!’ Sam’s eyes lit up. ‘That will make it a happy room.’

‘Sure,’ Dylan grinned. ‘Do you know where Mommy keeps the Christmas decorations?’

His face screwed up in concentration. ‘I think we don’t have any extra ones. But I’ve got some glitter and some glue. We could make everything sparkly as a surprise for Mum when she comes home.’

‘That would definitely be a surprise.’ Dylan supressed a smile, picturing Lucy’s face when she walked back in later to a glitterfest. ‘Maybe I can order some Christmas lights instead, and you can help me put them up when they arrive?’

‘Yes!’ Sam clapped his hands. ‘Then we can sing songs in here on Christmas Day.’

‘And let’s fetch in some wood and build a fire while we’re at it,’ Dylan suggested.

‘Christmas lights and a fire and some candles!’ Sam leapt to his feet and blew out a breath. ‘We probably need a snack first.’

Gus’s ears pricked up immediately.

‘Sure,’ Dylan said with a grin, brushing crumbs off Sam’s face. ‘Because it must be at least five minutes since the last one.’

Sam dashed off to the kitchen, followed by Gus.

Your face aglow in Christmas lights

More lyrics. Dylan grinned. The song was writing itself, line by line. He climbed back up to the piano stool, grabbed his phone and added the words to the ones he’d written earlier.

So soft and warm on winter’s nights.

He felt a flutter of excitement as a melody began to form in his head. A Christmas song. He had a vague recollection of talking to Janet about never having written one, and now he was sure he could. And he’d never get a more Christmassy setting than this beautiful old English farmhouse. A place that had always felt more like home than his Brooklyn apartment.

He drummed his fingers on the lid of the piano, heart racing. A killer line for the chorus, that was what he needed, something to pull all these threads together … His head was buzzing with ideas and his fingers twitched with the urge to play.

‘Uncle Dylan.’ Sam returned, clutching a handful of biscuits, Gus beside him, licking his lips.

‘One second, dude,’ he replied. ‘Let me work out this music before I forget.’

It was there, the tune was there, he just needed a chance to play around with it. His fingers picked out a few notes.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ the little boy persisted.

‘Hold on.’ He smiled at Sam, willing him to wait just a few seconds more.

Nights beneath the tree, wrapped in my arms.

He could almost feel the song now, it was within reach. He tried out a few chords singing ‘Wrapped in my arms,’ over and over until it sounded right.

Sam huffed impatiently. ‘It is a very important question, and you’re not listening.’

‘Sorry, buddy.’ Dylan stilled his fingers and turned to him. ‘Go ahead.’

Sam wriggled onto his lap. ‘I want to buy Mummy a Christmas present, but I don’t know what to get.’

‘OK.’ Dylan’s throat tightened with emotion. This kid melted his heart. How he wished Jack was here to have this conversation with him. ‘What do you think will make her smile on Christmas morning?’

Sam sighed. ‘A tractor that doesn’t break down all the time. But I’ve only got five pounds, and I don’t think that’s enough.’

‘Yeah, a tractor is probably a bit outside of our budget. And it would be really hard to wrap up.’

Sam giggled. ‘And we couldn’t get it under the Christmas tree.’

‘Something smaller then,’ he said. ‘Something that lets her know much you care about her.’