Christmas Staycation: A Scottish Holiday Romance by Devlin Esme

Author:Devlin, Esme [Devlin, Esme]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

It takes us probably an hour to get things down from the attic. With having no electric he says it’s pitch dark up there, so he’s having to feel for things rather than use his eyes.

But we manage to get six boxes down. I say we but after a minor disagreement on who was going up, we compromised and decided it would be him.

“Right, that’s your lot,” he says as he lumps the last box down at my feet.

“Excellent.” I grab the smallest one and make my way downstairs, hearing him follow on behind me. This one is light — probably tinsel.

I’ve not had tinsel at Christmas for years and I’m mildly excited at the prospect of doing that thing with the paintings in the living room, where you tuck it behind the corners and let the middle drape down.

I rip open the box (while he goes back up for the next one) and see it’s not tinsel at all, it’s those foil things you hang down from the ceilings.

Old school.

“These always make me want to sing that Boy George song, Comma-Chameleon,” I tell him when he comes back with another one.

“What-Chameleon?” he says, laughing. “Fuck, Isla. You know it’s not called that, eh?”

I turn around and look at him.

“What was it you called Band Aid again?” He says with a chuckle.

I shrug. “Can’t remember.”

But I actually can. I found out when I was twenty-three it’s actually not called Feed the World at all.

My bad.

“Do you have a hammer and nails?”

He looks like I’ve just asked him for a blood sacrifice. “Is there a reason you want to put holes in my wall when sticky-tape would do the job just as well?”

I shrug. “Sticky-tape will do I guess.”

“Awfully kind of you, darlin,” he says sarcastically.

It takes us a couple of hours but by the time we’ve finished, the place actually looks quite nice. We’ve got a big artificial tree in the alcove in front of the window. The lights aren’t on but the tinsel and red sparkly baubles are reflecting from the fire and it looks nice enough. We hung those ghastly Comma-Chameleon foil things up from the roof (Lewis tells me it’s Karma Chameleon, but I think he might be winding me up). And I did the tinsel trick on every available painting and piece of furniture in the room.

“Now it feels like Christmas Eve,” I tell him, standing back to admire our handiwork. The light is almost entirely gone now, my arms are aching and my stomach is growling with hunger… but I feel better.

I feel happy. And weirdly excited.

Even though there are no presents, no friends or family, no fancy food or expensive drink. There’s not even heating or power or hot water. There’s just me and the grinch, but somehow that’s okay.

“We’re going to need to agree to disagree on this one, princess.”

“What you got against Christmas decorations, eh?”

I eye him up and his face changes. Where before he was teasing and smirky, now it’s straight and more serious.

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