I stay awake until he's heavily asleep – which doesn't take long, thankfully – and then I manage to get out of bed without waking him. I nest the warm cover against his back, in to the space I've vacated. Then I slip out of the room, and go and fetch the packages from outside our flat door, where I left them when I got home from work tonight.
As quietly as I took Leah and Lucas's Santa sacks in to their bedroom, I lay Steven's presents under our Christmas tree.
There are gifts already there for the kids: from Steven's sisters; from their Auntie Mitzeee and little Nicky; and from their Auntie Cheryl and Uncle Nate – along with one for us from Cheryl and Nate too.
There are also gifts with my name on, I notice: three of them. They weren't here when we were sat on the sofa with a drink before bed, so he must have put them here when I went for my shower.
His handwriting is on the labels, the same message on each one: To Brendan from Steven xxx
:::::::
Next time I wake up, it's morning, even if it's not yet light.
He's sleeping like a baby. I ease his head off my shoulder, get up, put the dressing gown on and, as quietly as I can, go and start the coffee. While I'm waiting, I switch on the lights on the Christmas tree and the ones on the plant too, while I'm at it. Then I go and listen outside the kids' bedroom door. They're talking; sound excited.
I bring the coffees to our bedroom. I guess my getting up stirred him after all, because as I set down the mugs, he literally wakes up and smells the coffee. I lean over the bed, kiss his lips.
"It's Christmas," I say, keeping my voice down. "They're awake, heard them talking."
I hang the dressing gown back on its hook.
"Pass us me 'jama top. Ta. D'you wanna leave the door open, then, so they know they can come in?"
I open it so it's ajar, then get back in the bed.
"We'll get five more minutes to drink this if we're lucky," I say.
He smiles, sits up and puts on his pyjama top, then I pass him his coffee.
"Uh oh, no such luck," he says when there are footsteps in the hallway; he calls out, "It's okay, you can come in."
They burst through the door, shouting over each other so we can't catch half what they're saying, although it doesn't much matter when they're buzzing like this. Both of them have got their Santa sacks – half emptied by now – and they clamber on to the bed with them.
"He's been, then," I say.
"Yeah," says Lucas. "Loads of presents, and..." He digs into his bag and pulls out the selection pack of chocolate bars, or what's left of it.
"How much have you had?" says Steven. "No wonder you're bouncing off the walls."
"Bouncing on the bed," says Lucas, and he does just that.
"Lucas!" says Leah, when he almost lands on her.
"Alright, come on, sit down, eh? Before you spill me and Brendan's coffee. Sit down so we can see what you've got. Good boy."
We make some space for them to sit down in between us, and they take it in turns now to show us and each other what Santa brought them. I glance at Steven, look at him looking at them; wonder how he survived when he didn't have this.
"Hey," I say, and he looks at me. "Alright?"
He smiles, nods his head. Then Lucas starts ripping open another bar of chocolate and Steven says, "No, now, no more chocolate this morning, alright?"
"Why?" says Lucas.
"Because you'll spoil your dinner, and your mum won't be happy. Tell you what, why don't I do you dippy eggs, eh? You'd like that, Leah, wouldn't you?"
"With soldiers?" she asks.
"Yeah, dippy egg and soldiers."
"I want chocolate, though," says Lucas.
"Brendan's gonna have dippy egg and soldiers, aren't you," Steven says.
"Too right I am. I'll have Lucas's too, will I?"
"No!" says Lucas. "I'm having mine."
"Fight you for 'em," I say, and he laughs.
:::::::
I'm in the kitchen with Steven.
"So," he says, "Where did all them prezzies come from, under the tree?"
"Father Christmas?" I say, and he turns round to give me a look that's a cross between narrowing his eyes and rolling them. It makes me laugh.
"Seriously, though," he says, "Cos they weren't there last night."
"I could ask you the same question."
"Yeah, but my ones for you are only little, in't they, whereas I know for a fact, there's nowhere in this flat where you could've hidden them presents you've got me, without me finding them."
"Been searching, have you?"
"No. But I'm always going in cupboards and that, in't I, just for normal things – so I don't see how I never saw them."
"You really wanna know?" I ask, and he nods. "I had them at work, locked away in the office."
"Did you? Very clever. Except, hang on, you never had them with you when you came home last night."
"I left them outside the door. Got up when you'd gone to sleep, went and brought them in."
"You went out in the middle of the night?"
"Not outside the door of the building. Outside the door of the flat."
"Oh, right."
"That's all the questions now, is it? Feel like I'm living with fucking Columbo..."
He laughs. Then he says, "Lucky it's here we live, innit, not the old place. Try leaving Crimbo prezzies on the doorstep there, eh?"
"Yeah. Would'a been in a car boot sale by Boxing Day."
"Too right."
"Worst that would'a happened in these flats here, was if the next door neighbours would've seen them outside, and taken them in for safe-keeping before I'd a chance to bring them in myself."
He laughs again. "I think they're away anyway, them opposite, so you didn't have to worry." Then he frowns at the pan of eggs boiling on the stove. "I forgot to time it, didn't I, so I'll just have to guess when to take them out."
"Won't be long now, will it?"
"It takes longer when there's a lot of eggs in at once."
"Yes, chef."
He gets on with putting some slices of bread in the toaster.
"You know," he says, "It's funny, we're dead pleased that we've moved somewhere nice, where the neighbours won't nick stuff off our doorstep, but what about what they all thought when us two moved in? I mean, they most likely wouldn'a known nothing at first, but after that newspaper said all them things about us, they must'a been like..."
"There goes the neighbourhood."
"Yeah."
"We probably knocked a few grand off their property values."
"D'you reckon?"
"I'm joking. I think. Would'a been temporary, if it did." Then I say, "You warm enough?" Because all he's got on is what he changed in to after his shower: his posh pyjamas, and a pair of socks.
"Me? Yeah, I'm decent in me pyjamas, in't I, not like you in your boxer shorts, if you didn't have the dressing gown on."
"You sure?" Then I almost say, I'll fetch your dressing gown if you like, meaning the one Amy got for him when he was in hospital. But that one hung for a while on the back of our bedroom door once he was home, and then got hidden away in the wardrobe at some point, and is there still as far as I know. No point offering to fetch it, because I doubt he'll wear it.
"I'm sure," he says.
"This gonna be enough toast, Steven? Four slices?"
"Yeah, it will be once you've soldiered it. They won't want much anyway, cos they've had all them sweets, but as long as they eat their eggs, like, calm them down a bit with some proper food. And can you do half Marmite and half just butter? Here, pile them up on this plate when you've cut them up, then we can all just grab what we want, and there'll be no arguing over who's finished theirs."
"Okay."
Standing here, cutting pieces of toast into strips, I get déjà vu. The day after he came home, was it? That first morning, I made him boiled eggs, and I stood where I am now, making Marmite soldiers in the hope they would tempt him to eat.
"I've done five eggs, right," he says, fishing them out of the water with a slotted spoon. "Two for you."
"Only two?"
"Greedy-guts." He smiles, and I wink at him; then he says, "They've gone a bit quiet in there."
"Ominous." I go and look in the living room door: the kids are sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree. "Alright?"
"We're waiting for you and Dad," says Leah.
"Oh yeah? That's very kind of you. We'll be in in a minute, okay?" I go back to the kitchen. "They're sat waiting for us, good as gold."
"Are they? Aww." He turns to me, comes for a hug, then he looks up at me and combs my hair back with his fingers. "It suits you longer. It's funny, I never thought of you having different hair. Apart from getting more grey ones, I mean."
"Watch it."
He laughs. "Right, let's take this lot in." He starts gathering everything on to a tray.
"Top up your coffee?"
"Oh, yeah, ta."
I bring our mugs to the machine.
"So, I thought about going back to my old style, when I was at the barbers."
"Did you? What made you just have a trim, then, in the end?"
"Dunno." I guess I like how he touches my hair, now that it's not full of gel or whatever. "Just easier, ain't it."
:::::::
We have breakfast, the two of us sat on the sofa, and the kids kneeling on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table, facing us.
I doubt they'll always be like this, but for this Christmas morning, they don't argue when Steven tells them the presents under the tree won't be opened until we've finished eating.
Soon as I've cleared away the breakfast things, Steven unleashes the kids, and they dive under the tree and grab what's theirs. There's a frenzy of unwrapping from Lucas, while Leah is methodical, peeling off the sellotape without ripping the paper.
"Right, keep the tags with the prezzies for now, yeah," says Steven, "Or we won't know who gave you what, and we'll want to know so we can say thank you, won't we."
"Your teacher voice, that was," I say to Steven, while they're busy doing what he told them.
"Eh?"
"When you tell them things like that. Can see you with a classroom full of kids in front of you."
"Oh, yeah, with my qualifications, plus me criminal record."
"I'm not saying you ought to be a teacher, or you want to be. I'm saying, you'd be good at it if you were."
"Oh. Well then, thanks."
"And just for the record, I'm glad you're a chef – I lucked-in there, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did." He smiles at me when he says it.
I'm too slow going in for a kiss: Leah interrupts before I get there.
"It's your turn now," she says to us.
"Fetch us a prezzie then, go on," says Steven.
Leah and Lucas select one from under the tree and bring it to us, then they perch on the coffee table to watch us opening it.
It's the one from Cheryl and Nate, to both of us: it's a set of bed linen, in grey and the same shade of blue as the walls in our bedroom.
"That's very stylish," says Leah, and we both laugh.
"Yeah," says Steven, "It's lovely, innit. We'll give her a ring in a minute, yeah? Then you two can say thank you an' all."
Lucas goes and gets another present, crawling on his belly under the lower branches of the tree as if he couldn't reach it any other way, then reversing out again, and, mission accomplished, presenting it to Steven.
This one is from me.
"It's heavy," says Lucas. "But I'm Batman," which he proves by opening his wee dressing gown to show us the Batman pyjamas the Lomax parents gave him last night.
"It's very neatly wrapped," Steven says.
"Done by my own fair hand," I say, and he looks at me with raised eyebrows.
"Course it was." He unties the Jo Malone ribbon and unseals the Jo Malone wrapping paper, and opens the Jo Malone box. All the products inside are separately wrapped, and he opens them one by one.
"Hope you ain't gone off that flavour." I'm so used to the lime, basil and mandarin scent on him – from his shower stuff and his creams and what ever – that I think of it as his own by now: so that all these products here are only his due.
"They're amazing, Bren, thank you," he says when he's unwrapped them all.
Good.
"There's another... The wee one there, son," I say to Lucas. "Fetch it over, yeah? Good lad."
This time, Lucas slides under the branches on his back. He stops to re-attach a bauble when he knocks it off, then he brings the next present over to Steven.
Steven unwraps it carefully.
"Is it a drink?" says Lucas.
I laugh, "No, it's not for drinking, it's for smelling." Then I say to Steven, "You've not had the cologne before, no?"
"No, I've never. What does..?" He runs his finger along the words Limited Edition on the box. He can read them, or he could normally: normally if he came across a word whose shape he didn't recognise straight away, he would work it out a few letters at a time till he could see it. Right now, though, his head is too full to remember the process.
"I think it's just the engraving on the bottle that's the 'limited edition'," I say, "Not the cologne. You can get the cologne all year round, so if you like it..."
He looks at the words etched on to the glass bottle: Merry Christmas. And then he leans and kisses me and says, "Merry Christmas."
"Here's one for Brendan," says Leah.
"From me," Steven says.
"Thank you." I open it: it's a bottle of shower gel, and I laugh when I see what it's called. "'Hairy body wash'?"
"Yeah." He grins. "See where it's from?"
"'Mr Masey's'. That's where you got the beard oil, yeah?"
"In Brighton, yeah. They do it online, see, I found out."
"I love it, thank you." I put my arm round his shoulders and kiss the side of his head.
"Brendan's got two more from Dad, and Dad's got one more from Brendan," Leah says, and she hands me my two and puts Steven's one – it's the suit, and I've cheated on the job of wrapping it up, by just putting it in a big gift bag – on the floor in front of him.
"Open that one," says Steven.
I do. It's another product from the same place.
"Cologne," I say, and I smile.
"Great minds, eh? Go on, see if you like it. Cos I had a sniff of them when we was there, and I was gonna get you one, but they were closed when I went back there before we came home from holiday. I remembered which one it was though that I liked – Number 6 – so I got it online." He pauses while I unscrew the cap and take a sniff, then he asks, "Is it alright?"
"It's grand, Steven. It's grand."
"Open your one, Daddy," says Leah.
Steven slides the box out of the bag on to his lap, takes off the lid, and unfolds the tissue paper to see what's inside.
"Brendan." He looks at me with big eyes.
"Do you like it? If you don't like it, or if it doesn't fit, it's okay, we can go back and get a different one, so it's... Only I got it from the same place we got your wedding suit, and I told the fella the size we got before. And this one's the same designer, and the same size, so it ought'a be okay. If you like it. But if you don't, just say, cos we – "
He shuts me up with a kiss. Then he holds up the jacket and looks at it.
I can imagine him in it. If it fits him like his black one does, it'll look like it was made for him.
"I can't believe it," he says.
"Well it's good to have a choice of suits, so." He doesn't know yet that he's got a hotel to go to, where he might want a choice of suits for his anniversary lunch, and the evening do, and for dinner on his birthday when it'll be just the two of us.
"It's mint."
I nod: "Good."
"One more present for Brendan," says Leah.
"From me," says Steven again.
This is a small one. I unwrap it, open the hinged lid of the box.
"What are they?" says Lucas.
"Cuff links," says Steven. "They're not expensive or anything, Brendan, but I thought..."
It's the Superman symbol: that's the design on the silver cuff links.
I want to say something, but I can't seem to.
"Is Brendan okay?" says Lucas.
I nod.
"Right, you two," says Steven, "Let's see how fast you can clear up all this paper, eh? Then we'll see if we can talk to your brothers. I'll fetch a recycling bag."
He squeezes my shoulder as he heads out of the room.
:::::::
Steven's sisters phone him, which means it's me that has to herd the kids in to tidying up. And then as soon as he's hung up, he gets another call.
"Hiya, Chez," he says. "Merry Christmas. You having a nice day? … Have you? We've been up for ages, us, cos of the kids. … Sorry, I shouldn'a – … Good. You will, you and Nate. I bet you will. … Listen, Chez, thanks ever so much for the prezzie – it's gonna look well nice when we put it on the bed. … You're welcome. You liked it, did you? Only we didn't know what to get, really, seeing as Nate's a millionaire so he can buy anything you want." Then she must say something funny in response, because Steven laughs. "Right, I'll let the kids talk to you now, alright? Thanks for ringing. Have a nice dinner. Bye for now. Love you."
He hands his phone to Leah, and she and Lucas sit down, holding the phone between them.
"Hello, Auntie Cheryl," Leah says.
"Don't hang up at the end," Steven tells them, "Cos Brendan's not spoke to her yet."
We leave them talking, and go out to the kitchen.
"Chez okay?" I say.
"Yeah, she's fine. They've not long got up, she said. Course, I had to go and put me foot in it, didn't I, saying we had to get up early because of the kids – she said she'd swap their Christmas lie-in for a kid or two waking them up."
"She wouldn'a meant anything, Steven. We can't not mention our kids, can we."
"That's exactly what she said, actually. And I told her, didn't I, I bet they will have their own kids. And she said they're feeling quite positive, as it goes."
"Good." I pause. "Steven?"
"Mm?"
"The cuff links, they're..."
"Right, they're because of what Lucas said, about when I fell down having the fit, how you caught me, like Superman."
"I guessed that was why."
"Only, if they make you think about that day, about the bad stuff, then we can just, like, bin them – or, no, we won't bin them – I'll go and get me money back, won't I. But anyway, right, you just have to say."
"I – "
"But what I think is, it was like one of them things you can look at and think, right, if you hadn't done that – if you hadn't been so quick – it could've been over, couldn't it. So, like, everything after that, however bad it was, it was better than if I'd hit my head on the floor and..."
"Here. Come here."
He holds me as tightly as I'm holding him.
"They're kissing."
We both look round at the sound of Lucas's voice. He's got Steven's phone to his ear.
"No," says Steven. "We were hugging."
"My dad says they were hugging," says Lucas. "It could be true."
"Does Auntie Cheryl want to talk to Daddy Brendan?" Steven asks him.
"Yes. Bye, Auntie Cheryl," Lucas says, and hands me the phone.
"Chez," I say.
"Caught in the act, eh?"
"I'm pleading the Fifth..."
She laughs. "Sounds like you're all having a good Christmas."
"We are. You?"
"I've just had a glass of champagne put in my hand, so I'd say so. Thanks,Nate, babe."
I hear Nate say to Cheryl, "It's my pleasure. Cheers." There's the clink of glasses, then he says to her, "Give my love to the Chester gang."
"Nate sends his love to yous all."
"Likewise."
"Thank you for the lovely gifts – I said so to Ste as well."
"Thanks for yours. And the kids – they said thank you, I presume?"
"Yes, they did, and they told me everything else they've had as well. And what's this about Ste giving you Superman handcuffs?"
"Hand – ? No. Cuff links."
"Oh! Ha! I thought Lucas must've got his wires crossed somewhere. And that explains what Leah said as well – I thought she was saying you'd given Ste some Lynx. That's Lynx, as in, what teenage boys use to cover up that teenage boy smell. But she must've just been correcting Lucas about the cuff links."
"Lynx, though? Jesus."
Steven, hearing only one side of this conversation, is looking puzzled.
"Oh my god, that's hilarious," Cheryl says. "Don't worry, I knew it couldn't be right. They were gabbling away, though, all excited, y'know? So it got a wee bit lost in translation."
"Sounds like it."
My phone starts then, in the pocket of my dressing gown. It's Anne calling. I hand it to Steven to take while I'm finishing up with my sister.
"Hiya, Mitz, you've got me instead," he says when he answers. He wanders off, to check on the kids I imagine.
"Sounds like it's all go, over there," Cheryl says to me.
"Getting that way. We'll be going soon, taking Leah and Lucas over to their mum's, but we're meant to be letting them talk to the lads before we go, on the computer. So, yeah, busy morning. Quiet after that, though, once we come back from Manchester – nothing doing for a coupl'a days, till I open the club again on Wednesday."
"That's a decent break. Which you've earned, Bren, after the time you two have had."
"Thanks. Yeah. How about you? Just the two of you for your Christmas dinner, is it, same as us?"
"Us, and Nate's mum."
"How's that?"
"You know, it's actually really good. She's got so much better since she sold up over there and moved over here. She's well now – I think it was dragging her down, that big empty house, all on her own – and she's mellowed, if that's the right word. She's a laugh. Took a while, mind, before she accepted that Nate's actually happy with me. And she's got her own wee social life here, as well, so we're not in each other's pockets. She'll be having a girls' lunch with her old pals tomorrow, when Nate and I are off out."
"Getting away somewhere, are you?"
"We'll be over to Belfast, to see Mum."
"Okay."
"I can say hello for you, Brendan, if you like."
"What?"
"It's been difficult for her, y'know, with everything she's had to get her head around, but I've been – "
"Not now."
"Alright. Sorry."
"It's okay." We're both silent; then I say to Cheryl, to get us back on track, "We'll be glad to see you. Only a coupl'a weeks now."
"Less than two weeks, in fact," she says. "Two weeks yesterday, the party."
"That soon? Wow."
"I can't wait."
"Listen, though, sis, I better get on. We've got to call Declan and Padraig for the kids now, and you know with Skype or whatever, it sometimes takes a coupl'a tries to get through, so we better get to it. I'll talk to you soon. And I love you, yeah?"
"I love you too."
"Merry Christmas, Chez."
"Merry Christmas."
We hang up, and then I go and find where Steven and the kids have got to.
Leah and Lucas are on the sofa, chatting on my phone. Steven isn't there, but he appears a moment later.
"That was a long chat you had with Cheryl," he says. "Well, long for you, anyway."
"They talking to Anne, are they?"
Steven nods, and says to the kids, "You two, say bye bye now, cos Brendan wants to talk to her, okay?"
"We've got to go," Lucas says to Anne. "Bye bye."
"Bye bye, Nicky," says Leah. "Bye, Auntie Mitzeee." Then she hops up and gives me my phone.
"Right," Steven says to them, "I've just seen the state of your room – all wrapping paper and sweet wrappers an' all. I bet you weren't gonna do nothing about it, were you, just leave it for me to find after you've gone off to your mum's. Come on."
Leah and Lucas laugh, and follow their dad, off to clear up their bedroom.
"Anne. You still there?"
"Yes. Enjoying hearing your domestic chaos – makes me feel better about mine. Happy Christmas, dear."
"Same to you. You alright?"
"I'm splendid. Maxine's making a start on cooking our lunch, and in theory I'm doing what your Ste is doing – tidying up after this morning's unwrapping extravaganza – but I'm talking to you instead. Oh, thank you, by the way, for the perfume. It's my favourite."
"Good. I won't try and kid you that I knew which one to get."
"No, Ste's already taken the credit for that."
"Rightly so. He no doubt told you as well, that we ain't opened yours yet."
"Yes. Probably for the best. Not that it's porn or anything... It's very tasteful."
"Okay."
"Oh, listen, while I've got you – some good news. Nurse Curtis phoned, and we had a nice chat, and he's coming to the party."
"Yeah?"
"Not the lunch, because he's got a night shift he can't get out of on the Friday night, so he'll need to sleep during the day on the Saturday, but then he'll come along to the hotel for the evening do. He did ask if he can bring a plus one, and I said I'd ask you."
"Boyfriend, is it? I dunno, Anne, I don't know about having a complete stranger along for something that's meant to be just..."
"Not a boyfriend. He said you'd met her, in fact. It's his BFF, another nurse. Suki?"
"Suki? Suki, yeah, she looked after Steven too." I remember her shaving his head before the surgery; and I remember her kindness to him. "We saw her the other week, same time as we saw Curtis. Steven was pleased to see her."
"Shall I tell him he can bring her, then?"
"Yeah, it's fine."
"Good. I think he's less likely to change his mind, if he's not going to be on his own."
"Talking of the party – "
"You've finally accepted that it's an actual party, have you?"
"Under protest." I go and listen to make sure Steven is still busy with the kids, then I come back, speak quietly, keeping an eye on the door. "Cheryl hasn't mentioned her mum, has she?"
"No? Why?"
"It's just, she mentioned her today. And I'm thinking, if she gets it on her head that she wants to, I dunno, build bridges or... I mean, I don't think she would spring it on me, but..."
"Look, I would know." Then I guess she's realised that I might be turning in on myself, because she lays on a comical emphasis when she says, "We've got spreadsheets, Brendan. Shared spreadsheets. The minute I add Suki's name, your sister will be on it like a car bonnet, and vice versa if she added someone new. You don't have to worry."
"I know I don't. I know she wouldn't do it."
"There you are, then. You were just having a wobble. Sorted now, though, yes?"
"Yes." Then I hear Steven coming. "Steven's... here. Alright?"
"Declan's texted saying they're ready when we are, Bren," he says.
"Sounds like you're needed," says Anne.
"Looks that way. Have a good one, Anne."
"You too. Lots of love."
"Same to you." I hang up.
"We're doing it on the laptop," Steven says. He's switched it on, and the kids have already sat on the sofa by the time he's put it ready on the coffee table.
He and I sit either side of Leah and Lucas.
When the call starts, Declan and Padraig are on their sofa too. Padraig is holding the baby.
"Hello, Rosie," says Leah.
"Hello, Rosie," says Lucas.
Padraig holds her up so we can see her face.
"Aww, in't she lovely, eh?" Steven says. "You must be well proud."
"We are," says Padraig. "Except when she's screaming the house down."
"Is she our sister too?" Lucas asks.
"Sort'a," says Declan. "Like, not officially. She's our half-sister, and we're your stepbrothers, so I don't think there's a word for how you're related to Rosie, but it feels like you are, in some kind of way."
"Cool," says Lucas.
Leah and Lucas show the lads some of the presents they've had, and we all talk for a few minutes. The baby starts fussing, and Eileen comes in to view to take her from Padraig. Holding her baby in her arms, Eileen smiles at the screen, and there is a softness to her, the same tired-out, love-drunk, walking-on-air look I remember from when each of our sons were born.
We leave them talking, and go to get dressed. Steven puts on the pale blue sweater Amy gave him last Christmas.
"I can't even guess how much you've spent on my presents, Brendan, and I've not spent nothing like that much."
"Doesn't matter, Steven, you – "
"You know I'd give you the world if I could, though, anyway."
"You have. You do."
:::::::
We pull up outside Amy's, and the kids run up to the house and ring the bell. Amy and Simon open the door together, and both of them give Leah and Lucas a hug. They wait on the step for us to bring the things in from the car; then we all go through to the kitchen, Steven leading the way.
"Right, this is the vegetarian thing," he says. "Now, the inside is all cooked but it's got to get hotted up, so if you leave the foil on top for like, twenty minutes..." And he goes on with the instructions, ending with, "And I made some veggie gravy an' all, in case you didn't have time."
"You're a life saver, Ste." Amy hugs his arm, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "We've never done Christmas dinner for eight people before, and if we'd had to do the vegetarians as well, I think we'd have just given up."
"Mike's girlfriend is a vegetarian as well as Leah," Simon says to me. "And we didn't know what to make that would feel, you know, special. You've come up trumps, Ste."
"You've done me a favour," Steven says, "You've gave me a chance to practise what I'm making when our Declan's over next week. Cos we're doing a proper Christmas dinner, it's gonna be like a whole Christmas Day all over again, cos we've got the lads' presents to give them and they've got theirs for the kids, so..."
"Ain't all having vegetarian though, are we, just because'a Declan and this one?" I say.
"You'll get your turkey, don't worry." He hugs his arms round my waist from the side. "Don't let him tell you I starve him, cos I don't."
I kiss the top of his head.
"Shall we have a drink?" says Amy. "I could do with a sit down before everyone gets here."
"I'm driving, ain't I, so I'll have a – "
"A cup of tea?"
"If there's one going."
Amy nods, and I think she smiles.
Simon says, "I've sorted out that chair-bed for you. Want to load it into your car while the kettle's boiling, Brendan? And we can lend you a duvet too, because we thought you might not have another spare one?"
"We were gonna buy one, but..." I say.
"Well why don't you take ours this time, save you going shopping when you've got enough to do with your second Christmas."
"Appreciate it."
He and I collect their folding futon-chair-bed contraption from where they've put it ready in their hallway, as well as the duvet they've got bagged-up for us, and we take them out and load them in to the car.
:::::::
Amy has kept Leah and Lucas out of their front room until Simon and I come back inside, and then we all go in. The bicycles are parked in front of the Christmas tree; they're loosely covered with wrapping paper, but it's obvious what they are, and the kids are over the moon.
It's raining now, so they don't go out in the garden to try them out, but they're happy enough examining them in here, along with opening their other presents.
Amy brings in a plate of mince pies, to have with a cup of tea in my case, or a glass of prosecco in theirs and Steven's.
Steven hands Simon and Amy their present from us, which was bought and wrapped without any involvement from me, so this is the first time I've laid eyes on it: it's some kind of set of china dishes.
"They're lovely, thank you," says Amy. "We can use them today."
She gives Steven his present from them – the radio she spoke to me about.
"Ames, that's brilliant, thank you." He jumps up and hugs her. "It's just what I've been wanting. Look, Brendan – I won't have to keep buying batteries now."
"Means you can sing along to it all day long, does it? See if I can get me some earplugs..."
He laughs. "He likes me singing really. He just pretends he doesn't."
"Keep telling yourself that," I say.
He's right, though, obviously.
Then Simon hands me my present.
"Leah and Lucas chose this," he says, thereby letting me know I'd better not make any disparaging remarks. I nod.
It's a Christmas jumper. A big old reindeer face on it, with goggly eyes.
Okay.
Lucas is laughing.
"Put it on, then, Brendan," says Steven.
I look at him and then, fuck it, I take off my hoodie and put on the jumper. Lucas laughs even harder.
"It looks nice, Brendan," says Leah.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," says Steven.
"This one here," Leah says, "Is from me and Lucas." She hands her dad the gift she's retrieved from under their tree.
"Thank you," Steven says, then to me, "It's for both of us, look – Daddy and Daddy Brendan."
It's obviously one of those big round tins of sweets, which proves to be the case when Steven tears off the paper.
"Are you going to open it now?" says Lucas.
:::::::
Driving home, I say to Steven, "You knew about this jumper?"
"No. Why?"
"The size, is all. Fits me, don't it, so I thought Amy must'a asked you."
"No, she never."
"See, there you go. She must'a had a good look at me, Amy Barnes must'a, to be able to make such an accurate guess. It's all I'm saying."
I glance at Steven, do a face, and he grins and shakes his head at me.
:::::::
"Wanna go for a drink, Steven?" I say, when we're parking the car back outside our block.
"What time do they close on Christmas Day? They don't open for long do they?"
"Can't remember. Two or three, is it? If it's at three we'll be okay. If it was at two..."
"We'll just've had a nice walk."
"Along the canal then?" I say.
He nods. "Can I just run upstairs though, and fetch some bread for the ducks? They've probably not had anything today, with everyone busy."
"I love you," I say, because in the grey December light, he's beautiful; and because he's worrying about some ducks going hungry. "We got that fruit cake Simon gave us. Ducks like fruit cake?"
"Bet they do, yeah. It's only shop-bought, innit, so Amy wouldn't mind."
They'd wrapped up a couple of slices for us, when we couldn't be persuaded to have it there and then on top of the mince pies.
I get it out of the car. "Here you go."
"D'you want to go up and get your coat, Bren? It's alright nagging me to wear mine, but you went out without yours."
"I'm okay, got more built-in insulation than you." Still, I put my hoodie on over my jumper to keep him happy, even though it's not particularly cold today.
We're in luck, because all the while we walk along the canal path towards the pub, stopping to give the ducks their Christmas cake, the rain holds off.
:::::::
"How about that?" Steven says, indicating one of the offerings chalked on a board at the bar.
"Irish coffee? If you want."
"Yeah. Best of both worlds, innit."
There's a real fire in the pub; when we've got our drinks, we go and stand over a couple of drinkers at a table beside it until they decide to move on, and then we sit down round the table they've vacated.
There's Christmas music playing. The punters here are happy, and the staff are too, knowing they're knocking off shortly. The fire is glowing. The Irish coffee is heady and warming.
"You've got..." He starts to reach towards my face but drops his hand back onto the table.
"Cream on my moustache? Wouldn't be the first time." I don't know if it's the heat from the fire or if I've made him blush, but either way, seeing his cheeks go pink makes me laugh; and then I say, "You gonna get it?"
He smiles, touches my cheek and sweeps his thumb across my mouth to wipe away the cream, if there's any there.
:::::::
When the cooking is at a stage where he can leave it, we go and get the present from Anne out from our wardrobe, where it's been since it was delivered, owing to the tag on it where she's written, Brendan and Ste – Ever so slightly NSFW (ask Ste what that stands for, Grandpa) so you might want to open it when L&L aren't there. Christmas hugs & kisses. See you soon. Anne & Richard xxx.
We lie it on the bed to unwrap it. It's a framed picture, and it's face down, so we see the label on the back of it first of all, and I read it out.
"'Bathing', it says, by Duncan Grant."
I turn it over. It's a print of a painting, of a group of men diving and swimming. Stylised, you might call it.
"They've all got their bums out," says Steven.
"It's okay Steven. It's art."
:::::::
It's dark outside by the time we're getting around to eating.
"I know you're dying to get stuck in to the main course," he says, "But I've just made a starter, because I got some little salad leaves specially, and they won't last another day. Anyway, the beef needs to rest for a few more minutes."
"Long as it don't take long. I'm starving."
"You would be." We smile at each other. "We can eat it in the kitchen while I do the last bits and bobs for the main, if you don't mind not sitting down with it."
"If you like." I follow him back to the kitchen.
There are two small plates on the side. He gets a couple of forks out.
"So, this is avocado, with a little salad of soft baby leaves and walnut pieces, with a walnut oil dressing."
"Looks like it's straight out of a restaurant, Steven."
"That's only because I've sliced the avo nicely, and cut the bread in a little triangle, with the crusts cut off. It's only simple, no cooking."
"It's fucking quality."
"Good."
He's draining vegetables and stirring gravy in between eating his.
:::::::
The dinner he's made is what he did for the two of us last Christmas, after the kids had gone back to Manchester. He must be thinking the same thing because when he's plating it up he says, "This is like our own little tradition now, innit."
"You don't mind that the kids are over there for their dinner again?"
He shakes his head. "We've got them and the lads next week, so we're not missing out. And anyway, it's like you said after I told Amy it was okay. Cos Christmas Eve and Christmas Day morning with the kids, and then, like, just us... You said we've got the best of it, didn't you."
"I know I have."
We kiss, then he finishes piling our plates with all the veg to go with the roast beef.
"You do realise if I eat all this, we're not gonna be able to... you know."
"I know. I'd rather see you eat though, Steven. Anyhow, it's what Christmas is all about, ain't it, eating all this then dozing in front of the TV."
"That reminds me, that film's on, that one we watched last year. We've missed half of it but we'll catch the end."
So we don't have our dinner at the table. Instead, we sit on the sofa with our plates on our laps in front of the best part of It's a Wonderful Life: the part that would make you cry, if you were the kind of man that cries at an old movie, on Christmas afternoon, in black and white.
:::::::
We haven't moved from the sofa. I doubt we're capable.
I've got my arm round his shoulders, though.
He looks down at his stomach, and pats it.
"Food baby," he says.
I laugh. "Hardly. Worth it, anyhow, that dinner."
"Yeah, it was nice, even if I say so myself." He's quiet for a minute, then he says, "I forgot to give you your card."
He gets up stiffly from the couch, goes and gets an envelope from the drawer in the plant stand, and hands it to me. Then he collects up our empty plates and takes them off to the kitchen.
I open the card. It's a picture of two stags face to face, with the branches of their antlers together forming a heart shape, and a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. It makes me smile.
I open it. The printed message inside it reads, Christmas Kisses to my Husband. I read what he's written underneath it, in his painstaking handwriting, and for a minute I close my eyes and I think of everything we've had to deal with, him and me, over these past twelve months. The things that have tested and challenged him, through no fault of his own, as I've struggled with demons and ghosts. His pain over what happened with Cheryl. Damon. Getting knocked back again and again when he was looking for a job. Walker, and what I did with him. That newspaper. Steven's stepfather coming to terrorise and extort. His seizures, the abscess, the brain surgery, the weeks of treatment that nauseated him.
All of that, and more. Everything that has come at us and kept coming.
But they never stood a chance, those things: not with him, with what he chooses to remember, with the heart he has.
I read again what he's written here, and my heart too is full:
Thank you Brendan for the best year.
xxx