Chapter Text
"We need to talk about Christmas."
I looked up at my cousin. "What do you mean?"
Pinpricks of snow curled past the window; from the living room came an outraged shriek as Theo once again beat Rosie at Crash Team Racing. Harrison leaned against the radiator, eyebrows lifted, arms folded against the cold. "Well, I assume you're not planning to leave Mark here by himself for three weeks."
The kettle clicked. “No.” Carefully I lifted it off the stand and poured hot water over the leaves. "No, I'm not."
"So you were going to leave me to fend for myself in Sheffield, with nosy relatives and tiny children and everything?"
Guiltily, I blushed. "Harrison, I'm sorry...of course I'd have told you..."
He shrugged.
"What about Luc?" I asked – and as if on cue, I heard his soft, accented tones from the living room, soothing Rosie's wounded pride. "He'd help you fend them all off, I'm sure."
Harrison folded his arms. "The thing is, after what happened this summer...big family Christmas?"
"Ah." I should have thought about this, I realised, and my guilty flush deepened. "Not at the top of his letter to Santa?"
"Definitely not."
I nodded, stirring the tea leaves. "So you're staying too."
"We're thinking about it. It's either that, or Luc and I head off and get a cottage somewhere for a few weeks, just the two of us. We'd be able to book something; it's not exactly high season."
"So you'd have left me on my own with our crazy family?" I teased him.
"No!" He glared. "I knew you'd want to stay here with Mark – unless you were planning to take him back to Sheffield?"
I thought about it for a moment. The idea of Mark meeting my grandmother, sitting at our dining room table, pulling crackers with my uncle, was utterly ludicrous. I snorted. "No."
"I didn't think so." Harrison's gaze softened, though I couldn't help thinking I'd disappointed him. "What do you reckon, then? Should we stay, or...?"
I resisted the urge to sing The Clash. "What are Rosie and Theo doing?"
"They've got their excuses all ready, if they need them.” He grinned. “Rosie's going to have an important experiment running in her lab that she can't leave for more than a day or so. Theo's going to invent a failed exam."
"Knowing him, he might not have to invent one."
"That isn't fair," Harrison said reproachfully. "He's worked his backside off this semester."
"True." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I wasn't exactly covering myself in glory this afternoon. "Pass the milk?"
Harrison complied. "I suppose the only snag is whether Mark wants us all around." He gave me a sharp look as he handed over the carton. "Or whether you do."
As I poured out, I considered. "I think it would be better if we were all here." I tried to take the question seriously, and not feel stung by his barb. "If it were just the two of us, it might be a bit..."
"You spent all summer together in Venice."
"Yes, and it was wonderful." As snow flicked quietly against the window, I closed my eyes and remembered the warm winds blowing off the lagoon, the rumpled silk of the canals as the boats wound their way through ancient streets, the houses on the islands painted as bright as boiled sweets, and the perfect curves of the basilicas. "But it was...different." Like stepping into another world for a few brief, beautiful weeks. I'd said nothing to the others about the long, warm nights, as heady as the expensive wines we'd been drinking, when I'd sit in the great attic living room with the balcony doors open – netted, to keep out the moths and mosquitoes – and Maglor would play his harp until I fell asleep on the divan. I'd said nothing about the dazed enchantment of the days lying in the grass in the gardens behind his house, forgetting that the city was only a few minutes away. I'd said nothing about the twilit evenings spent wandering the streets, when the lamps would throw halos of soft orange light into the fog creeping in from the sea, and the city would loom out of the shadows, its air and touch and scents like a lover's embrace. "I think for Christmas, here, I'd rather you were all around."
Harrison watched me.
"Stay," I said eventually. If nothing else, I didn't like the thought of him and Luc alone somewhere, dwelling on the events of the summer. “Unless you really don't want to. If you'd prefer to get somewhere for the two of you, no-one would mind..."
Harrison shook his head. "No. I don't think brooding and raking it over will help."
I was relieved his view was the same as mine. "You don't think this will be too...I don't know...busy and silly for Luc?"
"He's put up with it for an entire semester, hasn't he?" Harrison grinned. "And for most of last semester too."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do." He rubbed his nose. "I wouldn't have wanted to take him back to Sheffield; I don't want him to think I'm trying to replace what he's lost. And you know what our family are like. Our Mums would probably overdo it, trying to make him feel welcome and at home, and...yeah." He grimaced.
"I get it," I laughed.
"But if we stay here for Christmas, all of us, it'll be like...just carrying on as normal, but with extra tinsel. And no work for a few weeks."
I laughed again. "Normal but with extra tinsel. That doesn't sound like a ringing endorsement."
He blushed under his freckles. "I think we can...kind of make our own traditions, if we do it this way. Does that make sense? Then we're not trying to replace anything. We're making something for ourselves." His eyes sharpened again. "That would probably help Mark, too."
I held his gaze, giving nothing away. "Probably, yes."
Harrison paused as though waiting for me to say something else, then smiled a little ruefully. "Are you going to tell him?"
"Of course." I picked up the mugs. "I just need to find the right moment, so he doesn't try to argue us out of it."
Harrison frowned. "You don't think he'd prefer to be alone?"
I think he'd prefer to have his family back, and to not need us at all. "I don't think he'd want us to feel any sort of...you know...duty towards him."
Harrison raised his eyebrows and spread his hand over his chest. "But I am the slave of duty!"
I grinned. "That's Theo's line."
There was no big winter show this year; we'd put on Sweeney Todd for Hallowe'en, but since the university had decided to hold exams before Christmas instead of after the holidays, Xander decided not to risk anyone's grades by scheduling a late November or December performance.
"We'll make up for it, though," he promised us in the Whey Pat one night. "I've got big plans for next semester. Huge."
I exchanged a glance with Mark. Phantom? I was trying to think of something that could possibly top Les Mis.
Mark, who had been quiet throughout the evening, now lifted an eyebrow. Claire James, I hope you're not suggesting I should read his mind?
Would I do such a thing?
The corner of Mark's mouth lifted; I noticed Harrison's eyes on us, and turned back to Xander. "Can we ask, or is it a secret?"
Xander tapped the side of his nose and changed the subject.
As we walked back home, I let Rosie and the boys wander ahead, and fell into step beside Mark. The snow had stuck, and then rapidly melted; the pavements were slushy, and the damp seeped in through my shoes.
“This is more like the manky grey London stuff than proper Scottish snow,” I complained.
Mark smiled. “I've known some very beautiful winters in London.”
“I'm sure.” I slipped my arm through his. “Anyway, speaking of winters...”
A low, melodic chuckle. “Is this about Christmas?”
“Oh. Well – yes, actually.”
“I overheard Rosie and Theo talking about it on the landing.”
I shook my head. “There are no secrets in our house, are there?”
“I can think of a few.”
“True.” I glanced ahead, but the others seemed occupied – Luc and Harrison were holding hands; Theo and Rosie were attempting to tickle each other, and were darting about and shrieking loudly. “You still don't think...?”
“We can't tell them, Claire.”
I nodded and squeezed his arm, not prepared to argue about it. “Anyway.”
“Yes.” He lifted his head towards the sea. “I don't want you all to change your plans because you feel obliged to keep me company. I have the house on Torcello. I could go there, if I decided not to stay here.”
I sighed, choosing my next words carefully. “You know, I don't think it is an obligation. It certainly isn't on my part, anyway – I love my family, but whenever I go back to Sheffield now, it's like...like I tried to grow up and failed, somehow. If you'll have me, I'd rather be with you.”
He smiled, and tucked his fingers around mine.
“Luc can't go home, obviously, and subjecting him to someone else's big family Christmas after what happened over the summer feels...” I gestured. “I don't know.”
“I understand.”
“Theo's not keen to have another long stretch of time back in Northumberland – you know what his parents have been like this year – and Rosie doesn't want to be left out.” I shrugged. “If you'd prefer to be by yourself then that's up to you, but don't assume we'd rather go home.” The word felt strange in my mouth. St Andrews was my home now, and had been for months – and the odd, messy group of people I shared a flat with were the family that I'd chosen.
Maglor shook his head slowly, still smiling, though there were shadows behind his eyes that I'd come to recognise all too well. “It's kind of you.”
“It's pure selfishness, I'm afraid.”
He laughed. “That line barely works when your cousin uses it. It doesn't suit you at all.” Lightly, he rubbed his thumb over my wrist. “Claire – thank you.”
Over the next couple of weeks, Harrison, Rosie, Theo and Luc applied themselves with vigour to their books. Mark and I tried to give them space; we had our own projects and tasks to wrap up before the semester finished, but we weren't frantically working to memorise an entire term's work.
"I hate both of you," Theo sighed one evening.
Mark and I looked up from our board game.
"I assume you're talking about our lack of exams," Mark said eventually.
"It's so bloody unfair..."
"Don't forget we've already been through it," I pointed out. "It isn't as though we've escaped altogether."
"I still hate you." Theo put down his pen and flexed his wrist. "Why can't it be over already?"
"Don't wish your life away," Mark said – gently enough, but there was sharpness there if you listened for it, like one note in a piano chord that was ever so slightly out of tune.
Theo held his gaze for a moment, then smiled guiltily and went back to his books.
Between us, Mark and I kept them fed and sane, much as we had done for the January and May exams, and took ourselves out of the flat to cafes and pubs and Younger Hall when we needed to escape the revision madness. Luc, in particular, was feeling the pressure this time; not only was it his final year, he had extra papers to complete, the trade-off for having transferred to St Andrews to complete his degree. And, too, he was applying for postgraduate study. As the semester drew to a close he grew quieter and more tense, and a fine furrow appeared between his brows.
"Is he OK?" I asked Harrison quietly one evening, when the others had all gone to bed.
Harrison shrugged. "He has good days and bad days.”
The morning of his first exam was apparently a bad day. He shouted at Theo for not understanding what he meant by “the thing that does the water thing,” and then looked stricken and promptly apologised at the sight of Theo's startled face. Theo, to his credit, accepted the apology graciously, and even made coffee as soon as he realised that Luc had lost the English word for kettle.
“You know, he isn't angry with you,” I told Theo as we walked towards North Street. He had an exam at Younger Hall; I was on my way to the library.
“I know.” Theo's answering smile was quick and genuine. “I suppose in a way he's grieving. I know he's in touch with some of his family, but I can't imagine what it must be like to do that – to leave everything behind the way that he did.”
“Not quite everything. And he has Harrison, and the rest of us, now. But...yes, I do think you're right.”
His smile widened and his eyes gleamed. “Wow. There really is a first time for everything.”
“Stop it,” I laughed, nudging him in the ribs. “OK – this is you.”
“Unfortunately.”
With a dart of guilt I remembered how disparaging I'd been of his study habits earlier in the week, and pulled him into a quick hug. “You'll be fine.”
As it turned out, I was right. Harrison and Theo got through their papers with relatively little worry – as did Luc, once he got into the swing of the exams and found his focus. Rosie, however, grew more and more anxious after each sitting, and one afternoon she came home in tears.
"What happened?" I asked her, startled by her pale face and red, watery eyes.
"I didn't read the question properly." Her lower lip trembled. "I spent half the exam writing about completely the wrong thing...oh, God, I think I f-failed..."
She covered her face, sobbing again. I pushed back my chair – but before I could move, Theo had got up from the sofa and drawn her into a gentle hug.
"Sssh." He brushed her hair back out of the tear-trails on her face. "It's OK. Your marks are sky-high from coursework; one exam won't make much difference at all."
"B-but if I don't get on the Dean's List then I might not get my N-Nasa funding..."
"If you drop off the Dean's List this time, you've got a year and a half to get back on it." Theo squeezed her shoulders. "But I bet you don't." He hesitated, then added, "you've got twice the brains of anyone else in your year, so logically, you should only need half the time to pass the exam."
Rosie laughed, hiccupped, and pressed her cheek into his shirt.
While they studied, I turned my attention to decorating the flat. I'd invested in a nicer tree this year – a stout Scots Pine in a glossy red pot – and hunted down some vintage decorations in a charity shop. Harrison insisted on crowning it with a gaudy, glittering reindeer, and Theo unearthed a set of flashing, singing, multicoloured Christmas lights in Tesco's. By turns they emitted thin, reedy versions of Jingle Bells, O Christmas Tree, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town.
“Brilliant,” Harrison grinned, draping them over the branches during a study break. “Good effort, bud.”
Luc stared at them. “Have you both gone mad?”
“Nope.”
Mark winced at the high-pitched, slightly off-key rendition of the O Christmas Tree refrain.
“I suppose they don't have to be switched on all the time,” I sighed.
As it turned out, even Harrison and Theo couldn't stand the sound of them for more than a few minutes together. The lights remained silent, and arguments were averted.