Page 44 of Hope and Hot Chocolate on Mistletoe Lane

‘I suddenly thought – who do we know with the perfect Santa beard? And now look what you’ve done!’

‘You told me to do it,’ Paul groaned.

‘This is your fault,’ Willow said to me.

‘I’d be the worst Santa ever anyway plus I’m too young and already run off my feet manning the café van for you,’ Paul told her.

‘That’s true.’ She stared at him then smiled. ‘You do look a lot better. And younger! Definitely not my Santa now.’

‘I never was,’ Paul muttered, giving me an amused look. I giggled a bit; I couldn’t picture it either.

‘We’ve tried for years to spruce him up and get him to be… well, less Paul-like…’ Sabrina said, gesturing to me. ‘This is definitely down to you.’

Paul rolled his eyes. ‘You wonder why I’m Paul-like surrounded by you busybodies.’ But he was smiling too, taking their teasing well.

‘The things a man will do for a good woman,’ Willow joined in.

I felt my face flush. I glanced at him and he also looked slightly flustered. It was a good job they had no idea what we’d done in here yesterday. ‘Maybe he has a secret girlfriend none of you know about,’ I said with a shrug.

‘Yeah, maybe I do,’ Paul replied.

They stared at him. ‘You can’t not tell us!’ Willow cried. ‘You said no to every one of our attempts to set you up for like… two years.’

‘We would know her too,’ Sabrina pointed out.

‘He could have used a dating app,’ Daisy’s husband suggested.

‘You knew and didn’t tell me?!’ Daisy accused him.

‘Guys, as much as I love providing you with gossip about my love life, I need to talk to my mum. Maybe stay off the mulled wine, all of you. Willow, you haven’t even had any so no excuse for your behaviour.’ Paul shook his head and expertly moved around them towards our mums by the sparkly tree. I quickly followed.

‘We only want you to be happy!’ Willow called after us.

‘Sorry, they are just too much,’ Paul muttered into my ear.

‘They remind me of my best friend in the city – Georgia,’ I said, thinking about our FaceTime chat earlier. ‘It’s nice they care about you.’

Paul glanced at me. ‘Yeah, I hadn’t really thought of it like that before.’ He touched his mum on the arm so she stopped talking to my mine. ‘I found Holly as instructed. What’s up?’

‘I was looking for one of my mum’s recipes and I found this tucked in the back of a drawer…’ Female Pat handed me the Polaroid picture. Paul leaned over my shoulder to see it as well. I could smell that woody scent of his that had been all over me yesterday. I wondered if my perfume was bringing back the same memories for him. I tried to focus on the photo instead of how close he was; the picture was of Paul and me in front of this very Christmas tree in this café when we were both sixteen, two years before I left Birchbrook. Paul had his arm slung over my shoulders, pulling me in tight and making me giggle as we both turned on cheesy grins for the cameras. The Polaroid was vintage in the best way.

I remembered how much I’d loved that day of decorating with him, his parents making us treats and playing Christmas music, laughter ringing out all day. I had loved him putting his arm around me for the photo, a rare moment when we could be close and affectionate and not get shy or self-conscious. I had written in my diary that night in my bedroom something like…

I wish he would see me as more than just his best friend

‘You should take one now in the same place,’ my mum said as Paul chuckled softly next to me.

‘Great idea,’ Female Pat said. ‘I’ll use my phone and send it you all. Come on, you two, let’s mark your first Christmas tree decorating together in ten years.’

It was silly but her simple sentence brought a lump to my throat. Lost in years gone by, I moved on autopilot in front of the tree. Female Pat stood in front of us as she had done back then and snapped the photo. Paul slung an arm around me and I wrapped one around his waist, clinging on tightly as we smiled for the camera, feeling this wave of desperation of not wanting to let this go. That was a feeling that had made me run before.

‘Don’t freak out,’ Paul whispered to me as his mum said she would take a couple more. He held me steady. Somehow, he knew I was spiralling. When she’d finished, Paul gave me a final squeeze then he dropped his hand. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he said as our mums looked at the photos. ‘I would never hurt you.’ He looked at me with such tenderness then, his eyes shining against the glow of the fairy lights. We were surrounded by people but it all faded at the edges like the Polaroid picture we’d just seen. I looked into his eyes and wished I could trust that he wouldn’t leave or hurt me like my dad had done.

Before I could gather my thoughts though, Willow walked over to us with the reporter who had come by the farm – Karl. ‘Holly, can we talk? Maybe out the back? Is that okay, Paul?’

‘Sure,’ he said, glancing at me in surprise.

Willow and Karl looked very serious. I wasn’t sure why but dread settled in my stomach. ‘What’s up?’ I asked, hoping Karl wasn’t about to criticise our winter wonderland in tomorrow’s article.