I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,85

pudding shot out of his mouth, much to his embarrassment and Mary’s amazement.

‘Yes, it’s an unfortunate name,’ Charlie continued. ‘There’s a movement to change a vowel and make it slightly more respectable. We have yet to see if one day we will be Tockwitt or Teckwitt. The local rag rather enjoys running headlines about Tuckwitt councillors.’

‘I hope you folks won’t mind me taking the rest of the day off,’ Radio Brian interrupted their conversation. ‘Mrs Cosgrove is about to serve up and I wish I could send you the aroma coming out of our kitchen via the radiowaves. I will be back tomorrow, and until then I’ll leave you with some of my favourite carols to eat your dinner by.’

‘Wonder what he’s having?’ asked Charlie.

‘And in case you were wondering, we’re having a leg of pork,’ said Brian.

‘That’s so spooky,’ said Bridge. ‘It’s like he’s listening to us.’

‘I hope it’s not too tough on his gums,’ replied Robin. ‘He’ll not fare well with crackling.’

They ate up their pudding and Luke’s most excellent trifle while Brian played on with his pre-recorded tracks. Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright…

Charlie listened to the words of the carol he had heard so many times before but the lyrics struck a chord with him today. Sleep in heavenly peace. He felt he really would sleep in peace now that Robin had given him the gift of his time, let him say all the things he wanted to say.

As if Robin knew he was being thought about, he turned to Charlie and smiled. Smiled at the wonderful man that life had blessed him with, a man who had given him everything: a job, a family, a home, security, love. He felt tears welling up behind his eyes and stamped down on them hard. He would grieve Charlie when he was gone, not before. This was a time to savour, along with the pudding and the trifle. The here and now.

Chapter 26

Bridge couldn’t remember the last time she had put so much food away. Ben would have approved of her not counting any calories today. When they’d first met, she’d been ridiculously skinny, cheekbones pushing through her skin and he’d brought home-cooked food to her door to fatten her up. Professionally she’d been storming it, personally, she was a wreck: drinking too much, eating nothing, surviving on whisky and cigarettes and vitriol. He’d helped her find some balance in life. He was a good man, the best and she couldn’t wait to give him a big hug.

‘Anyone for coffee and a mince pie?’ asked Mary after all the spoons were downed.

‘You are joking,’ said Luke, falling against the back of his chair and framing his pushed-out stomach with both hands. ‘Hell yes.’

‘Well said, Luke, Let’s have the full works,’ added Robin. ‘It’s not Christmas every day, is it.’ He cast a fond gaze at Charlie who returned a grin so wide, he could have posted envelopes through it.

‘I wish it were,’ said Jack with a contented sigh. He was decidedly tipsy by now. ‘In fact, I wish it were this sort of Christmas every day.’

‘But may I suggest an interval,’ said Charlie. ‘Let’s have our carol singing competition. In our pairs, we must go outside, sing and be rated by our peers.’ He spread his hands out towards them, looking not unlike da Vinci’s Christ at the Last Supper.

‘You want us to go outside?’ said Robin. He twisted around in his seat to peer out the window. ‘Actually it doesn’t look that bad. I think the snow’s stopped. A little fresh air might invigorate me because I’m in some danger of nodding off.’

‘I’m up for it,’ said Luke. Charlie’s wishes were theirs to grant. ‘And the losers make the coffee.’

‘That sounds fair,’ said Mary.

‘Extra points for harmonies,’ added Bridge, presuming the other half of her pair would be Mary, until Jack said, ‘Come on, Mary. We’ll go first.’

* * *

Outside the door, Mary stood in Charlie’s jacket, which engulfed her, with her size four feet in size eleven wellington boots. She felt as if she were in fancy dress, but she didn’t care. The snow was two foot deep, more here where it had drifted against the inn walls. It stretched as far as her eye could see and she had the sudden urge to run across it, stamping footprints into it like a five-year-old, but Jack was waiting for her to pick a carol.

‘What about “Good King Wenceslaslas”,’ said Mary and then