Christmas Day

Jean awoke in warmth and contentment in the spare room at Eric and Faith's, the ceiling stretching high above her. It was so much more comforting than a stuffy little cottage. Their home in New Zealand was a villa, complete with a pool and ample grounds, or rather woodland.

It was idealistic, away from the hustle and bustle of the towns and although Joe was resistant to it at first, he had learnt to love it as much as Jean.

However that had all changed when Lara arrived. She was a nurse in the veterinary practice that Zoe had set up, specialising in equestrian medicine. Zoe had come home one evening, Lara with her. It was unsurprising to young Jean, Zoe had always been upfront with her about her sexuality and how a fling with Scott had resulted in Jean's birth. There was no pretence, unlike the rest of the family, Zoe had seen fit to be honest and was very affectionate with them.

Jean climbed out of bed and tugged the curtains wide. Bright, yet crisp, a perfect winter's morning. Nearby a cottage was smoking from its chimney. It looked so homely that Jean got a sudden yearning to return to New Zealand. Twisting her body, she grabbed her case and hauled it onto the bed, unzipping the contents.

Enough jeans and tshirts to last her through a few days, a photo of them all at Lone View, Joe looking uncannily like his dad, Zoe's arms right around Jean as they all smiled happily.

September 2013. It had been hot, she remembered that day. Then a few days later, Zoe had found Lara in bed with Joe. His 'rite of passage' he declared.

Jean had been shocked. Lara seemed so devoted to Zoe but there was something about her cousin, his chiselled face, big eyes and misleading smile that sent all the women around cooing and flocking to him.
But he had crossed Zoe once too often.

Banished. Exiled. Jean recalled him saying in an email.

Sorry kiddo. Really messed up. Back at school now. Come and visit me soon. Joe x

That had been his last message. Until she'd found the deleted emails in Zoe's inbox. Mother and daughter had come to blows and Jean had said some terrible things.

Now she was here. Thousands of miles from home in a sleepy Dales village.

"Good morning lovie!" Faith danced up the stairs to her door, "are you awake? Breakfast in five minutes!"

"I'll be there." Jean murmured half heartedly, setting the photo next to the bed and wandered downstairs in Faith's dressing gown over her own novelty pyjamas to find Eric sitting in the lounge.

"Well good morning, young lady. Merry Christmas." He greeted her. The tree nearby was abundant with colour and decoration, yet only a few presents grazed the bottom of it.

"Ah, I'm afraid we weren't expecting guests." Eric began awkwardly, catching Jean's glance to the tree.

"Oh no! I wasn't..."

"Morning, lovie, how are we doing on this fabulous Christmas? Eh?" Faith bustled in, wearing tinsel around her beehive and a flashing Christmas tree brooch.

"Fine. Thanks."

"Good, well that'll do for now. Later on we'll go on up to Wishin' Well and join em all for dinner." She added decisively, "but first, breakfast? What can I get yer?"

"Er, Faith." Eric interrupted with a chortle, "have you cleared that with Cain and..."

"Ey, listen, I'm his mother. He'll do as he's told." She retorted sharply, awaiting Jean's breakfast order.

"Just toast thank you."

"No egg? Soldiers? Bacon straight off t'farm?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Well, please yerself." Faith replied, resigned. "we'll be headin up to Wishin' Well around eleven."

"What about you, Mr Pollard? Will you be coming?" Jean asked.

"Good heavens, no! No, I will drive to see...my family." He explained, suddenly interested in his newspaper.

Around ten to eleven, after a plentiful breakfast provided by Faith and an exchange of gifts, Jean prepared to leave with Faith for the Dingle cottage. Eric had set a Christmas compilation playing on the stereo of all his old favourites, Nat, Bing and Frank with Deano and Sammy which wafted out of the door as they made their way to the tumbledown building next door.

It was positively freezing, Jean thought as she trudged along in the snow capped mud, wrapped up in a smart expensive jumper that Zoe had bought for her and her best jeans with a necklace that had once belonged to Granny Tate, her hair dark and loose about her face.

Faith had lent her her faux fur jacket with a hood and she arrived at the front door of the cottage, a gorgeous scent of cinnamon, vegetables and chestnuts filling the air.

"Only us, love!" Faith announced, lifting the latch to enter. Jean stared in awe. It was like a scene from a Christmas card, all flagstone floor, garish crochet covers over worn armchairs, a blazing fire in the huge grate, decorations hanging from the slanted ceiling, every surface cluttered with novelties and in the midst of it all, a large table covered in a green PVC Santa and Sleigh print cover almost obscured beneath a multitude of mismatched plates and crockery. Equally mismatched were the chairs around it, all different shapes and sizes.

"Mother, good to see yer." Cain kissed her cheek as Moira offered her a warm hug.

"Yer comin' in then?" Jean was snapped out of her daze by a blonde boy of about fourteen. He had a very familiar face.

"Yeah. Thanks." Jean nodded, agog.

"Take yer jacket, then?" Noah held out his hands for it. Jean passed it to him absent mindedly, shuffling into the cottage.

"Oh 'ello, you must be Jean. Faith said you were comin'." A friendly faced woman with kind eyes approached, "you alright? Get yerself settled down. Noah, get her a chair, there's a good lad." She paused, "oh and I'm Lydia." She added breezily, before heading back into the kitchen where Faith was deep in conversation with Cain.

"Mother, yer can't seriously bring her here on Christmas Day? What will Debbie say?"

"Well I'm not shoving my hand up a turkey today and Eric's gone off to see his nearest and dearest."

"So yer thought yer'd just bring her here? She's a flippin' Tate!"

"Ssh! Cain!" Moira reprimanded, slapping his arm.

"Y'alright?" Noah asked kindly, brow creased as he sat down next to Jean at the table.

"Hmm." Jean offered a weak smile.

"Don't mind Cain. He's known as Grumpy."

"Thanks."

"So, who are yer?" Noah shrugged.

"Jean...Tate."

Noah stared at her.

"You're a Tate? Like Joe? Like...me...well, I'm Tate Dingle but according to Kim that's the worst thing to be."

"You know Kim?" Jean gaped at him.

"Yeah, I know her." Noah boggled at her, "what?"

"I haven't met her but I've heard...things..."

"Yeah. You would've. Wait, have you come back cos of Joe?" His manner turned urgent, "look I need to know? Is he okay? Graham won't tell me owt."

Jean shook her head.

"No, I came back to see him too."

"Then he in't gone back to New Zealand? To be with his Aunt?"

"That's my mother." Jean clarified. "We're all cousins. Kind of."

A spark of hope lit in Noah's eyes.

"So you're actually Joe's cousin. My cousin."

"Gets complicated." Jean returned easily with a laugh, "I'm a Windsor too. My dad was Scott Windsor."

"Marlon's wife were called Donna. Pretty sure she were a Windsor too. Anyhow, they'll be here too. Soon."

"They?"

"Marlon and his daughter. April?" Noah informed her helpfully, "along wi' my Mum, Chas, Jack, Sarah, Moses...That's Kyle and Isaac, Grumpy's kids..." he gestured to a toddler in a highchair and a dark haired boy playing with a train, "then there's Faith, course, Lydia, Sam, Samson, Belle...and Ryan. Me Mum only found out about him recently."

"Oh, big family then?" Jean grinned.

"Tell me about it." He smiled in a way that reminded Jean of Joe.

"So you're Joe's half brother."

"Yeah."

"You're alike." She admitted, "you look like Uncle Chris."

"Really?" Noah seemed stunned. "But I'm like, half."

"You've got the same dad. Obvs." Jean rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. Don't know much bout him though. I mean, Joe told me stuff but its not like knowing him, is it?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I..."

"You gonna spend all yer time gassin before yer gimme an 'ug?" Charity demanded of her son, who obediently hugged her, allowing a view of Jean.

"What's she doin' ere?" Her eyes flashed with anger.

"That were my doing, Charity. She in't got nowhere else to go." Faith explained.

"And we're not in t'habit of turning anyone away at Christmas." Lydia added. "She's welcome here, like everyone else."

Charity gawked.

"Er, do you know who she is?"

"Charity, probably best to leave it, eh?" Moira asked, sensing Charity's hostility.

"She's the spawn of Zoe Tate and who knows, yer letting her sit down here like she's one of us!"

She glared around at everyone.

"Am I the only one who sees a problem wi'that?" Charity spread her arms wide, aghast.

"Looks like it." Moira replied patiently.

"I can go." Jean offered, standing up.

"You'll do no such thing. Sit down." Faith instructed firmly, pointing her down.

Jean glanced at Noah, who suddenly jumped up.

"No, yer can't send Jean away. She int done owt!" He protested, "Mum, yer can't just turn her away cos she's a Tate! I mean, I'm Tate, in't I?"

"Babe, its not the same?" Charity attempted to pacify him as he backed up close to Jean.

"Yeah it is. You're always slaggin' me Dad off. Joe never did that. He were honest."

"No, Noah. Look at what he did to Debs, eh? He left you and 'er behind without a word."

"Only because Kim came back!" Noah's face had flushed red, his temper flaring.

"No, Noah. He made the choice to leave. He's not coming back. Yer better off forgettin' him."

"Graham said that." Noah answered promptly, "but he'll come back, he will!"

"Babe, if she's come back and dunt have a clue, what makes yer think you're gonna find him?"

"Dunno." Noah shrugged, "but I still love him. He's me brother."

"I know." Charity's anger lessened in the face of seeing Noah so upset.

"No yer don't. Cos yer never wanted me to see him."

"And this is why! He ruins lives. Like his..."

Noah scowled at her.

"I'm goin out. Come on, Jean." He added and handed her the jacket she had brought in with her. She followed behind obediently, tracing his steps as he kicked every object he could reach on route to the barn.