Five mulled wines

Mary stared at the enormous pile of Christmas gifts in front of her and sighed. Wrapping all of these was going to take forever.

For a moment, she contemplated leaving all the wrapping until Tom was there to help do it. He was surprisingly good at it – neat and methodical even if he didn't add the decorative touches she did. But the days were slipping away, and she was running out of free time to be able to tackle the mound of gifts before Christmas.

Sighing, she sat down at the dining table, asked Alexa to play Christmas songs, reached for the bottle of Mrs Patmore's homemade mulled wine (one of the biggest sellers in their farm shop every Christmas) and poured herself a generous glass.

And then picking up a roll of wrapping paper and a pair of good, sharp scissors, she set about her task.

What felt like eons later, Mary looked disconsolately at the small pile of wrapped presents and the bigger pile still to be wrapped. Despite having wrapped a number of items, the unwrapped pile seemed to be growing rather than getting smaller.

She reached for the bottle of mulled wine and poured herself another glass. After all, she was definitely earning it.

'Oh, where the bloody hell, are you?' Mary cried, crossly. 'I literally had you in my hand two minutes ago. Where can you possibly have got to?'

She lifted some scraps of paper, peering under them. No sign of the scissors she was roundly cursing. She bent down, squinting under the table. Still no joy. Bloody things.

Both infuriated and exasperated, she stood up, checking she wasn't sitting on the damn things. Again, nothing. Not that she was really expecting to find them on the seat of her chair because she hadn't stood up for ages, chained there as she was by the sheer number of gifts that needed wrapping.

She huffed out an annoyed sigh and sat back down. This, she decided, was a sign that it was time for a break. She seized the bottle of mulled wine and poured another glass.

'Oh, you little buggers,' she scolded as she spied the scissors glinting at her from their position slightly behind where the wine bottle had been and partially hidden by a pile of bows. 'Well, I'm having a drink now, so you can just wait your turn.'

'There, that looks practically perfect,' Mary said, sticking a bow on the present she'd just wrapped.

Pleased that she was making real inroads into the unwrapped pile now, she went to pick up the gift to add it to the wrapped pile and frowned as it didn't budge. She tugged at it and it lifted clear of the table leaving half the wrapping paper behind, stuck to the wood by a rogue piece of sellotape.

'Oh, for God's sake,' she grumbled, scratching at the end of the sellotape. When she levered up the edge with her fingernail and pulled it, it fetched a layer of varnish up from the dining table with it. 'Oh, no! No, no, no!'

Cross now, she screwed up the offending piece of paper and its badly behaved sellotape and threw it across the room.

Time for another glass of mulled wine. She deserved it after all the effort she'd put into wrapping gifts this evening. Ignoring the still unwrapped gifts, she poured the last of the bottle into her glass, frowning as it only filled it up partway.

She pushed to her feet, heading to the kitchen in search of another bottle to top up her glass.

Tom cocked his head as he locked the back door behind him. If he wasn't very much mistaken, he could hear singing.

Making his way through the house, he followed the sound to the dining room to find Mary dancing around using a roll of wrapping paper as a microphone as she belted out 'Santa Baby'.

Amused, he leaned against the wall watching her shimmy, waiting for her to notice him. When she did turn around, still exhorting Santa to hurry down the chimney tonight, her eyes were closed.

'Having fun?' he said when she finished singing, grinning as her eyes shot open.

'Tom!' she cried, her face breaking into a smile. 'Tom, Tom, Tom! There you are! You've come back!'

He chuckled. 'Of course, I've come back. I live here.'

'I've been busy wrapping,' she confided, pointing at the presents, some of which clearly needed re-wrapping.

'And drinking by the looks of it,' he said, genially.

'Maybe a tiny bit,' she agreed, a beatific smile on her face. 'It's thirsty work.'

'Hmm, yes, apparently so. What have you been drinking? Gin?'

She shook her head, scooping her recently refilled glass off the table. 'No, mulled wine. It's delishush.'

Tom squinted at the bottle, surprised to see it so full when Mary had obviously had more than one glass. 'How many have you had?'

She looked skyward, trying to count. 'Ummmmmmm, one when I started, then another one when I got bored, then another when I got cross.'

'Three then?'

'No, cos then I had another when I had a tiny mishap with the table.'

Tom raised an eyebrow, his eyes going to the table to see what she could mean. It just looked covered in wrapped and unwrapped gifts, off-cuts of wrapping paper, bows and labels to him.

'And then I had to get another bottle because I'd run out,' Mary continued.

He swivelled his eyes back to her. 'You're on your second bottle?'

'Yes. Want some?' she asked, brandishing the bottle at him, deciding she was fond enough of him to share the booty.

He took the bottle from her, setting it aside. 'You do know Mrs Patmore's mulled wine has brandy in it?'

'Does it? That's probly what makes it so delish, then!' Mary said, nodding wisely.

The music changed again to 'Last Christmas' and her face lit up. 'Oooo, I love this song. Dance with me!'

Tom laughed, catching her as she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and wobbling around in a circle, pulling him with her.

'You know, this is actually a really sad song,' she murmured, sinking into him a bit. 'He's giving her his heart. His heart, Tom. And she gives it away! The very next day! That's mean, don't you think?'

'Yes, it is a bit,' he agreed, swaying with her to the music.

Mary pursed her lips thinking about that. 'I wouldn't give your heart away if you gave it to me.'

Tom stiffened a bit, remembering their mistletoe kiss the other day, wondering where this was going.

'Would you give my heart away if I gave it to you?' she asked, looking worried that he would say he would.

'No, I wouldn't,' Tom said a little warily.

Mary broke into a broad, beaming smile. 'No, of course, you wouldn't. You're too nice. You're the best.'

She lay her head on his shoulder, her breath warm on his neck as they swayed around in a circle.

'I'm a bit tired now, Tom,' she confessed, softly. 'I could just go to sleep.'

'I know. I think it's time for you to go to bed.'

She nodded and then her head shot up and she looked mournfully at the table laden with presents.

'Um, can't. Got to sort that lot out,' she groaned.

'I'll do it for you. I'll put them away and we can start again tomorrow.'

'Really? You'd really do that for me?' Mary asked, strangely touched.

'I would. I will,' Tom replied, smiling back at her.

She took hold of his chin, waggling it affectionately. 'You really are the absolute best.'

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. 'Go on up to bed, Mary.'

'Okay. Night, night,' she said, kissing his cheek and then pushing out of his arms.

'Night, night.'

She got to the doorway and turned around to wave at him. 'Night, Tom. I do love you.'

He grinned. 'I love you, too.'

Mary threw him a brilliant smile and then stumbled out of the room, heading for her bed.

Tom picked up the bottle of mulled wine, swiftly calculating that she'd had at least five glasses of the potent brew. That was more than enough to make Mary drunk and affectionate. He smiled to himself and then set about tidying up her mess.