Christmas at the Farmhouse - Rebecca Boxall Page 0,59

roses. I could sense today that there’s a bit of tension between Xav and Jack but, apart from that, the set-up here seems to be exceptional.’

Freja smiled wryly. ‘Heidi and Belle, too! And we’ve had our ups and downs over the years, believe me,’ she said. She was quiet for a minute. It wasn’t an awkward silence; it was easy and comforting. Eventually, she spoke again. ‘Were you happy with Ken?’ she asked me.

‘On the whole, yes; we really were.’

‘I hope Sunny and I will be like that.’

‘Well, he seems like a lovely chap.’

‘He is,’ she said, smiling. Another pause. ‘It must have been so dreadful when he died – Ken.’

‘It was; it happened suddenly so it was a real shock. I must admit I’ve felt a little lonely at times in the last year. I have my friends and I love my own company, but even so.’

‘You won’t ever need to feel lonely again,’ Freja promised me. ‘You’ve got us now. We’re your family.’

I turned to kiss her purple hair, which smelt festively of tangerines, and we snuggled back against the squashy pillows, under the eaves of that cosy attic bedroom. I don’t think I had ever felt quite so contented in my life.

Chapter Thirty-one

Thursday 26th December 2019

Jo – Birthday Celebrations

As always, by Boxing Day Magnus and I were completely exhausted and not remotely interested in celebrating our birthdays. But the invitations had gone out a month before Christmas and we were set to hold our annual lunchtime drinks’ party. By contrast with the excited burst of visitors who’d hurried into our room on Christmas morning, we were finally greeted by most of the family at about nine in the kitchen, everybody looking as wrung-out as we felt ourselves. But each of the children and their children were bearing gifts for us, which we opened at the kitchen table. Mikkel set about making tea and toast for everyone and halfway through the gift opening ceremony Susan appeared in the kitchen, looking and smelling beautiful. She was wearing grey again – this time a charcoal dress worn over black leggings – and I recognised her signature scent as a classic Christian Dior one.

‘Come and sit down,’ said Lucas, gallantly vacating his chair for her, and Susan smiled her thanks and sat down. She was clutching a present in her hands and she passed it across to Magnus before leaning down to stroke Huckleberry. He purred loudly.

Magnus had the same look on his face that he gets every year when we celebrate his birthday, as it inevitably stirs up a myriad of emotions about his adoption. This year he looked exhausted, too – he hadn’t slept much, his brain presumably working overtime after the events of the day before. He reached across to take the gift and unwrapped it. I was interested to see the most striking solid silver photo frame – it must have cost a fortune. I stood up and went to stand behind Magnus to take a better look at it. Inside the frame Susan had placed a picture of herself on her wedding day. A beautiful black and white shot.

‘This is lovely,’ said Magnus. ‘I still have the photo you gave me for my eighteenth. It’s by our bed. My most treasured possession. Mum and Dad said it was a picture of my birth father, though I didn’t even know his name until yesterday.’

‘I’m so glad you received it! I was never sure if your parents would want to give it to you, or whether they’d manage to keep it safe for all those years. Did you ever open it up and look at the picture underneath the one of your father?’

Magnus looked surprised. ‘I never thought to; I had no idea there was another photo. Let me go and get it,’ he said, getting up from the table and rushing out of the room. He returned a few minutes later with the silver frame. He sat down and carefully opened up the back. He took out a picture of a beautiful woman with long blonde hair holding up a chubby baby with adorable fair curls.

‘Goodness,’ Magnus breathed. ‘He’s identical to me as a child! Look, Jo, doesn’t he look like me?’

I nodded, thinking of the framed photograph of Magnus in our bedroom. I went up to fetch it and brought it back to the kitchen table where everyone marvelled at the similarities between Magnus and his birth father. Susan studied the picture of her son as