chapter nine

n i n e

*

Casper isn't on the till when Mum and I make it to Java Tea. Julio serves us with a bright smile and his Santa hat at a jaunty angle, his light-up necklace still blinking. When I ask for a mint hot chocolate and Mum orders a chai latte, and a couple of cakes to share, he repeats the order in his thick Spanish accent and says, "That will be seven pounds."

"I think you forgot to add the cakes," Mum says. "One of the chocolate yule and one cinnamon bun."

Julio winks and says, "I didn't forget." Looking at me, he adds, "You have been very good to my best employee. He tells me of what you have done for him. Free cakes for you and your sister."

Mum laughs and blushes, even though – no offence to her – it's pretty clear we're a good thirty-three years apart, and don't look remotely similar. It's no wonder Julio's built up his loyal customer base, with his charm and undeniable good looks, a silver fox with eyes that sparkle. He isn't even fully grey yet, his hair more of a salt and pepper even though I know he celebrated his sixtieth a couple of years ago.

When we take a seat with our drinks and our free cakes, Mum leans across the table and whispers, "He's like a Spanish George Clooney!"

"Shush!" She's not wrong. But she is loud, and the only reason Julio doesn't hear her is because he's dealing with another customer. Chuckling to herself, she stirs her latte and cuts the yule log and the cinnamon bun in even halves.

"So, where's your wise man?"

"Probably in the back. Most likely plotting a way to get rid of all the Christmas decorations while Julio's busy."

Mum frowns. "Why would he do that?"

Ah. I may have missed out an important snippet of information. "He ... uh, he kind of hates Christmas."

Mum's gasp is enough to draw the attention of several other customers, whose heads snap up to check whether there's a threat nearby. "What?"

"Yeah. He's not a fan. I call him the grinch," I say, trying to downplay it because if I'm a Christmas fan, my mum's a fanatic.

She cannot comprehend people whose hearts don't fill with glee at the sound of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree; she was utterly baffled when a Jewish family moved in next door and didn't put up decorations and a tree, and I learnt that she had no idea what a menorah was. It was only after a Chanukah education that she came to terms with it; and the couple's daughters, Rachel and Hannah, have been on my not-Christmas card list ever since.

"Why not? Is it a religious thing?" she asks, her expression one of total confusion.

"Nope. He just doesn't like it. As far as I can gather, though I've yet to get a solid explanation, I think he thinks the whole holiday is a commercial mess."

"Oh, gosh." Mum puts her hand over her heart, shaking her head. "So sad. Are you sure that's the kind of person you want to live with? At this time of year? Goodness, Beth, he must hate your house!"

I laugh and nod, my lips pressed together. "He was a bit taken aback by the tree, but I think he'd rather live with me and my decorations than be homeless. So, good news, he likes having somewhere to live more than he dislikes the holidays."

"Maybe he'll see the light. Poor boy. I've found life is a lot nicer when you open your heart to the holidays; maybe he's just been doing it wrong. You can show him what it's all about." She nods firmly, as though she has just made an executive decision, and I can't help but chuckle at her sincerity.

The chuckle fades when I see a familiar face enter the coffee shop. There's a twinge in my chest when I lay my eyes on Callum. Ex number one; the one who made me a mother for all of the few minutes it took for Robin and Noelle to be born and to die.

He doesn't join the queue. He comes straight over to Mum and me, and the weakest tendrils of my heart go out to him.

Every single year on this day, we see each other. I don't know if it's on purpose, if he's learnt my schedule and makes sure our paths cross; I don't know if I stick to my schedule in the hopes that I'll see him, that I won't disrupt the unspoken agreement. The way he smiles as he comes towards us, the way his steps don't waver, tells me that he hoped I'd be here.

"Hi, Beth."

"Hi, Callum."

"Debbie," he says with a smile, nodding at my mum. She doesn't seem sure what she should do, and ends up awkwardly smiling at him, nodding back. "D'you mind if I talk to Beth for a moment?"

She glances at me, and only stands when I tell her it's okay. Taking her latte with her, she moves to an empty table across the cafe and Callum takes her seat. He looks good. He suits being twenty-four far more than he suited being nineteen: his beard is neatly trimmed, his clothes stylish and well-fitting.

"I hoped I might catch you here," he says. "I went to see the girls earlier. I thought I might've seen you there, but I guess you'd already been."

My heart seizes again. It always does when I think about them, when someone else mentions them. "I went this morning," I manage to say. "How're you?"

"I'm ... okay. I'm all right," he says, twisting his hands together, rubbing one thumb over the other. I see a flicker of the Callum I dated when he does that, his nervous tic. But I don't know what he has to be nervous about now.

It's been five years since we were last together, four years since we sat down and talked properly, at long last. I couldn't bear to see him for a long time, struggling to deal with what happened. I blamed myself – I was the only one in that car – but I couldn't stop the small part that blamed him too, for putting me in that position. He came to see me in the hospital, not long after the crash. My sister called him. They didn't know he'd broken up with me; he didn't know the girls had died. Not until he burst into my room, crying that he'd made a mistake, he was wrong. I was barely holding onto consciousness at that point, only just aware enough to hear what he was saying and to know it was impossible when he said he could be a dad, we could be parents, that we'd make it work. He was crying when he kissed me. He lost it when my dad came in and told him that the twins had died.

I couldn't bear to see him after that. I told my parents that he'd left me before the accident, and I told them not to let him near me again. It took us a year to talk it through, to realise that we were both crippled by unthinkable grief, weighed down by guilt. It did no good for either of us, carrying around that weight that would never leave unless we let it.

What happened was a tragedy, we agreed. A horrible, awful, life-changing tragedy. But there was no point blaming ourselves or each other. No good came from him blaming himself for breaking up with me; no good came from me blaming him for being too scared to be a dad. We had our own lives to lead, and they would be separate lives.

"How're you?" he asks after a moment of silence, when I'm trapped in a rabbit hole of memories.

"I've been better," I say, glancing around to make sure that Casper's not nearby. "Today's always rough."

Callum nods. His eyes glaze over and he takes a deep breath, but doesn't say anything.

"What's up? You said you wanted to find me here?"

"Yes. Yeah. Yes, I did. I feel like you need to know that I'm moving away," he says.

It shouldn't mean anything to me. But there's the faintest sting in the words. I don't know why.

"Oh. Okay."

"I'm moving to Edinburgh," he continues. "I'm, uh, I'm getting married, actually, and my fiancée's got a great job in the city."

"Oh. Wow. Congratulations, Callum," I say, mustering up a smile for him. "That's great. I'm happy for you."

He pushes both hands through his hair and sighs. "It'll be weird, not being here anymore. There's this part of me that says I can't leave." His words are tortured, as though it's a struggle to say each one. "There's always been a strange comfort, you know, being in the same town where the girls are buried. It's going to be hard to leave."

I swear I feel my heart tear at that, the smallest rip forming in my chest. I can't imagine leaving here. Not with my girls buried at St Mary's. I'm tied to this town, whether I like it or not.

"Oh." It seems to be the only word I can muster. I don't know what to say.

"I thought you should know. The girls, they'll always be in my heart. I don't know if I'd have been a good dad. Probably not. I think I'd have been awful, otherwise I probably wouldn't have got so freaked out..." He trails off, and I know we're both thinking of what could have been, until he shakes his head and says, "Anyway. I needed you to know."

"Thanks. I appreciate," I say. It feels odd for him to seek me out and tell me, because we hardly see each other, but I know it would've hurt if I'd heard on the grapevine that he had left. He's a tie to the girls. A reminder of what happened. "Thanks for telling me," I mumble.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says after a moment. "I only want the best for you, Beth. I really do. All I want is for you to be happy."

"I am." I persuade a smile to flourish; he mirrors it.

"I'm glad. I'll miss this town." He unzips his jacket and pulls out an envelope from the inside pocket. "I know it's a bit early, but it had to be today."

That, I understand. He passes me the card.

"Merry Christmas, Beth."

He stands. I stand too. Casper comes out of the back as Callum pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek, holding me tightly in a long hug before he turns on his heel and my eyes start to leak when he leaves. I feel Casper's eyes on me; I sense him about to come over but my mother gets here first. She's by my side in a flash, her hand on my elbow, guiding me back to my seat.

"Are you okay, baby?" she asks, concern stitched into her forehead. "Is everything all right? What did he want?"

"He's leaving," I say. I feel numb all over again, my natural react whenever I'm upset. I retreat into myself, disassociating with the world around me until Mum pushes my mug over and the heat of the ceramic pulls me back.

"Good for him," she says. I know it's hard for her to even think that, let alone say it. She harboured her anger far longer than I did. That's the thing about family; they'll hold onto your grudges for you, even once you've let them fade away. "Now, let's eat cake."

*

Casper stays away until it's almost seven, and Mum and I are the only ones left, at which point he comes over with a rag and a bottle of spray in his hand as he wipes down our table.

"Hey," he says, gathering up our empties.

"Hey, Cas. This is my mum, Debbie," I say. "Mum, this is Casper."

Like she doesn't know. She's spent the past thirty minutes lamenting his hatred of Christmas and trying to catch glances of him as he works.

"It's nice to meet you!" he says, sticking out his hand. His trademark grin is back. "Your daughter's an incredible friend; I don't know what I'd do without her."

Mum beams. She's incredibly family-oriented and she takes great pride in the four of us being good, upstanding citizens, something she instilled in us from a young age. Always be kind, she and Dad insisted. "She's a good egg, isn't she, my little Bethlehem," she coos, as though I'm a well-behaved toddler.

"That she most definitely is." He gives me look, wearing that cheeky grin that sprung up the moment Mum called me Bethlehem. "Such a star."

"You know, I think it might be fate that she's the one to help you out in your time of need," Mum continues. My eyes widen and I stare at her but she's looking straight at Casper. He glances at me and back to my mother.

"Oh yeah? Why d'you think that?" he asks. Fuck. Mum knows me better than anyone; she knows I think he's attractive. I may have mentioned it at some point today; I may be regretting that now.

"Well, it's just funny, isn't it?" She clasps her hands together, Julio's Christmas tree reflected in her eyes. "In the nativity story, Casper's the wise man, a king looking for Bethlehem. And you've found Bethlehem King."

I swear Casper's cheeks turn slightly darker. He's blushing. I'm sure of it. A cough escapes him. Or perhaps a choke.

"In the bible," she continues, "Casper always finds Bethlehem. The star leads him right there. So, you were destined to find my Bee. It's lovely to meet you. I'm so glad Beth has some company."

Casper gets over his surprise, and what looks like a smidge of embarrassment, to say, "I'm honoured to stay with her. If all your daughters are as wonderful as Beth, then you're a lucky mother."

Oh, he knows just how to tickle her. Damn that charm of his, which practically has her swooning.

"Right," I say, before this can go much further and Mum can try to set us up on a date, "I think it's time to head off, yes?"

Casper nods. "I'm all set here. I just need to lock up, so it's time to empty out."

"Of course, of course." Mum gathers her things and stands, and when we reach the door, she pulls me into a hug in the high street while Casper locks the door behind us. "I'm so proud of you, my strong girl," she murmurs. Not particularly loudly, but not quiet. "Call, text, come over, any time you want, baby. Okay?"

As though I don't already see her at least once a week.

"You're so strong," she says again, still hugging me, and she lets out a mournful sigh when she says, "Five years. I can't believe it."

I can and I can't, in equal measures. Sometimes it feels like such a long time. Other times it's more of a blink. I hug Mum back and let her go.

"I'll see you. Thanks for today."

She kisses my cheek and heads to her car, and I wait for Casper. I'm pretty sure he finished with the door within seconds of leaving, but he hung back a couple of metres. When he comes over, he takes one look at my face and says, "Don't say a word."

"Don't say a word about what?" I ask, acting innocent, before I add, "Wise man."

"Nope."

"I can't believe I didn't know! All these years, you've had a Christmas name too! And you never said a thing, you little fucker."

He snorts and rolls his eyes at me. "I wonder why."

"Thank goodness my mum knows her bible better than I do, else I might never have known. Good timing too, now that we live together. All the more opportunities for, ooh, some nativity puns? Jokes about wisdom?"

"Drop me off at Eric's," he says. "I'd rather grovel to my ex than put up with you." There's a dry laugh in his voice.

"Was that a joke? A joke about your ex? Does this mean you're up to laughing at your relationship?" I ask, latching onto this distraction from my mind and my heart. "I'm right here, if you want to get some Eric-bashing off your chest, or if yo-"

"Who were you with earlier?" His question cuts me off sharp. My words shrivel on my tongue. "You seemed upset. I was going to come over but then your mum was there. Who was that?"

My mouth goes dry, my humour soured. "My ex."

"A recent one?"

"The least recent."

"When'd you break up?"

"Five years ago," I say, thinking, five years ago today.

"Oh." He looks confused. "Do you ... still love him, or something?"

"No. No, not at all." I couldn't. I forgave him and I forgave myself and we moved on from that, but I could never love him again.

"Oh," Casper says again. He sounds like me when I was trying to process what Callum was saying.

"It's complicated. I'd rather not get into it."

"Okay."

We reach my car. As I unlock it, he touches my elbow. I jump at the unexpected contact, and he jumps when I jump.

"Sorry," he says. "I just ... are you okay? This goes both ways, you know. You keep saying I can talk to you, and you know you can talk to me too, if you want. Did something happen today?"

"I really appreciate what you're doing," I say, feeling bad for every time I've teased him and pressured him to talk when I'm such a hypocrite, "but I'd really rather not talk about it. Not today, anyway."

He nods. "Okay. Roger that."

"Thank you."

We get in the car. It's an icebox after sitting out in minus five for ninety minutes. Casper says nothing as I turn on the engine and turn up the heating and turn down the radio, as I pull out of the car park and twist the fan to clear the foggy windscreen. It isn't until we're half a mile down the road that he breaks the silence.

"Your mum's a character," he says. "You don't look at all alike"—he's not wrong there; Mum's all blue eyes and blonde hair while I take after my dad, brown eyes and browner hair—"but the moment she started talking, I was like, yup, that makes sense."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yup. I think she liked me," he says with a confident grin. "I have that effect on people; you know all about it, of course. The ladies can't resist me."

"Oh, sure. Yup, that's totally it," I say, laughing. "You know, she was horrified when I told her that you're a Christmas hater. Might as well have told her that you slaughter reindeer for fun."

"I hope you didn't tell her that. I'd hate to tarnish my reputation." He pulls a face, turning to look out the window as we leave town behind to drive past snow-covered fields, streetlights twinkling off the ice. "No, I'm pretty sure she liked me. Also, is it just me or was she, like, totally implying we're supposed to be a thing?"

Oh, fuck. "That's just how Mum is. Every time I mention a friend, she assumes they're a potential paramour," I say. "At one point, she thought Ally and I were going to get together."

"Ally?"

"From the Christmas stall. Where you got the Santa for the top of the tree."

"Oh! The twin!"

I always think of Emmy and Ally as the twins but today, it hurts, just a tiny bit.

"Yup. The twin," I say. "When I came out as bi, Mum got very good at being all-inclusive with who she decided I should be with. I think she's a bit disappointed I haven't had a girlfriend yet. She probably wants a chance to prove she's a cool, liberal parent."

Casper laughs, his breath fogging up his window. "You're so lucky," he says with a sigh. "Ten points to Debbie, for being a cool mum. She's no regular mum."

I stare at him. "Was that a Mean Girls reference?"

He snorts again. He sounds like a dischuffed horse when he does that. "Of course."

"I didn't have you pegged as a fan of early noughties comedies about the bitchiness of teen girls."

Casper taps his nose and gives me an enigmatic smile. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Nazareth. And now I'm fairly sure there's a ton I don't know about you."

"Mmm. I'm fairly sure that's true, Wise Man."

He tries to frown, but it doesn't work. When we pull into my driveway, the Christmas tree glowing through the curtains, he's smiling.

*

I hope you liked this chapter!

What's your favourite Christmas film?