Chapter Text
☃️25 December ☃️
It’s Christmas morning, and I’m actually amused how eagerly I wake up, how ready I am to be up and about and head down to the warm snug of this cosy cottage to have Christmas morning coffee with my friends. I emerge from the duvet cocoon that I’ve made for myself in the night and place my bookmark back in the book I’d fallen asleep reading. I put on my slippers and a woolly jumper over my pyjamas and quickly stop in the bathroom for basic ablutions before making my way downstairs.
It snowed again in the night, and all the tracks we left during our raucous snowball fight yesterday have been filled in. The whole atmosphere is so picturesque, like it’s come right out of the pages of one of my novels. I step into the toasty warm kitchen and find that I’m one of the first people up, and Elle looks up from the kitchen table where she’s sitting with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. She grins and I return it, heading over and giving her a hug around her shoulders.
“Merry Christmas, dearest,” I say to her as I turn to check the kettle.
“Merry Christmas, love. The kettle just boiled, you should be good to go.”
I pull out a mug and reach into a box of things that I brought with me for the loose leaf tea that I brought from a splurge trip to Fortnum and Mason’s. I pull the teapot out of the corner and carefully pour the boiling water over the leaves.
“Isaac, may I just say that I absolutely love your taste in tea?” Elle says, the question mark is there to make me happy rather than because it’s actually a question.
“I have nothing categorically against teabags, they do work, but Christmas morning calls for real tea,” I say. “You want a cup?”
“Um, yes!” She laughs, and I give her another hug while we stand and gaze out of the window while the tea steeps.
Imogen, Nick, Charlie and Sahar have all made their way downstairs and are milling around. Charlie, ever the coffee drinker, is working on setting up coffee in his Chemex, an involved process that has several of the others clamouring to be included.
Once we all have tea and coffee to taste, we migrate into the snug. I didn’t even notice Darcy slip past us, but they clearly did because when we get into the cosy room where the tree is twinkling away, they’ve lit a fire in the hearth. I just stand in the doorway as the lights from the tree and the crackling firelight glow and bounce off the wooden beams and worn furniture, and I almost can’t believe that this is real. It’s Dickensian and domestic, and I’m so physically and emotionally warm that I have to literally pause to breathe and take it all in.
I bring myself back into the moment as Charlie wraps me in a hug and I squeeze him back and kiss his cheek and wish him a merry Christmas.
Tara and Elle disappear into the kitchen, and it isn’t long before they’re calling us all to sit down where they’ve got toast, scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on the table for breakfast. There’s a tray of champagne flutes on the worktop with a nominal amount of orange juice in each and a bottle of prosecco ready to be popped in the fridge. I do the honours and top up the glasses. Christmas morning is a time for Buck’s fizz, it’s basically mandatory.
“What’s the plan for the day ladies, blokes and non-binary folks?” Tao asks as we all tuck in.
“I vote for a little bit of meal prep and then a walk in the countryside before we come back to cook,” Nick says.
“How far are we thinking?” Tao asks, looking sceptical.
“A couple of miles? There are some lovely walks that we can do from here without having to pile into the cars,” Charlie adds.
Nick organises us all and, while some people wash up the breakfast things, others are handed bags of potatoes and carrots and Brussel sprouts along with peelers and pans of water. We busy ourselves to Christmas music playing through Charlie’s portable speaker and soon we’ve got all the vegetables peeled, chopped and ready in their pans, the turkey is in the oven and I assemble a baked brie and caramelised vegetable pie. We do one last clean up before donning coats and boots and heading out into the snowy landscape.
Darcy wraps their arm inside mine and we walk along like that. We start doing our traditional silly walk; their right leg coming over my left only for me to unwrap it and bring my left leg over their right. We giggle like we’re teenagers again and Tara looks on indulgently. This is just how Darcy and I are with each other though, and I honestly never want us to grow out of it. They’re one of the only people who ever saw the silly in me, everyone else saw the studious reader and while that person is a great confidant, I was rarely a clown.
Nick and Charlie are up ahead, Nick’s arm wrapped tightly around Charlie’s shoulder as Charlie huddles in one of Nick’s hoodies under his duffle coat. Their domestication was established so long ago at this point that, when they got married a few years ago in their mid twenties, no one batted an eyelash. Tara, Sahar, Imogen and Elle have their heads together, talking animatedly about something I can’t hear. Tao has his big camera out and is taking surreptitious candids of all of us that will end up being some of the photos we like the best from this whole trip.
The air is cold, our breath coming out in clouds, and we’re tramping through snow in pristine fields, with snow-dusted trees. We clamber over styles and down into a new copse of trees that create an archway over our heads. It’s beautiful and there’s an odd satisfaction to getting out into all this sparkling cold knowing that waiting for us back at the cottage is a soon to be roaring fire, the smells of an incredible dinner, and the toasty warmth of our family all around us.
Darcy and I pause as we emerge from the copse and look out over the postcard landscape. I look down into their face and drop an affectionate kiss on their forehead, and they cuddle a bit closer into my arm. I lean my head down on top of their head and we just stand and breathe. I wouldn’t find out until later that Tao caught this on camera.
Nick calls back over his shoulder that we’re close to the cottage now, and we all set off with renewed vigour, eager to be back inside to thaw out. We troop into the boot room to disrobe all our outer layers, and Darcy, as the self-appointed fire-starter of our trip, immediately disappears to the snug to get the fire stoked back up.
Too many cooks in the kitchen is never a good thing, and with all the prep out of the way, I follow Darcy and curl up in the armchair with my book. Just like yesterday, they bring a pillow over and sit at my feet, their arm wrapped around my ankle and their head on my knee. They watch the fire and I read, and for a while that’s all we do. After a while, they sit up, suddenly enough that their head knocks into my book. I look down and their face is filled with an expression I’ve seen only a handful of times.
“I can’t not tell you anymore,” they say as they look up at me.
“Can’t not tell me what, Darce?” I say, a soft smile on my face at the earnest and almost intense expression on their face.
“You can’t say anything to anyone, okay?”
“Of course, treacle,” I say, a little tinge of concern creeping into my voice at their intensity.
They lean up and whisper into my ear, and I wrap my arms around them and they all but fall into my lap and I don’t care because it’s such fabulous news and I am so so happy for my best friend.
“I’m going to need so much help,” they say, looking at me imploringly.
“You’ve got it, always, you know that! I also happen to think you’ve got this!”
Thankfully, the armchair is wide and cosy because Darcy doesn’t immediately get up. They just tuck themselves into my chest and I wrap my arm around their back, opening my book again to start reading where I’d left off, only I read out loud softly this time. Sahar, Imogen, Tao and Charlie all drift in too and settle in on the sofa, and I read aloud as they all watch the fire dance.
There’s a familiar moment, as things all start to come together in the kitchen, where the lull abates and a flurry of activity is needed to juggle things in and out of the oven. Nick and Tara call us all to order as that moment approaches and we’re all assigned tasks. Opening the wine, laying the table, covering trays of absolutely incredible-smelling roasted vegetables and generally getting us ready to eat. Nick has outdone himself, yet again, and even though we’re all pitching in where we can, this has all been coordinated by him and he deserves the credit.
Suddenly, it’s all on the table and the turkey, for those who partake, has been carved and the brie and caramelised veggie pie looks delectable, and we’re all talking over each other as we pass platters around and serve up.
“I just want to say,” I announce when the hubbub dies down enough for me to be heard, “I know that life is too complicated for us to promise that we’ll do this more often. I know that we all have our own families, for better or worse, and that we live all over the country. I feel so lucky to have met you when I did, and for whatever it is that keeps us together so that we’re still holding strong no matter where we are and how busy and important we get.”
This was a lot of words for me, and I look around at my friends’ shining faces and smile and tell them I love them and that we should now dig into the absolute feast that Nick’s produced for us.
“I helped!” Darcy pipes up. “Those Brussel sprouts had no crosses carved in them before I sat there with that huge bowl.”
“You’re absolutely right, Darcy,” Nick grins genuinely from down the other end of the table. “You saved the dinner!”
There’s a ripple of laughter around the table, and Darcy is cackling next to me, brushing off their shoulders in mock pride. Everyone falls to eating and conversation is restricted to yum and oh my goodness this is delicious and other food-related exclamations as we all tuck in. Nick is looking on with genuine delight as the babble of praise wafts his way. If I didn’t know that he genuinely enjoyed the art of cooking and the organisation involved in choreographing this kind of thing, the way he’s soaking up all the positive feedback might make up for the fact that we all let him take on all this effort.
We drink wine and chat and pull crackers and tell awful jokes and put on silly paper hats and generally create merriment, and I lean against the back of my chair and soak it all in. Eventually, we all admit defeat and lumber our full tummies into the kitchen where we kick Nick out so that we can handle the clean up. Taking turns to wash and dry and put away, the crew of us make short work of consolidating the leftovers for bubble and squeak tomorrow, and getting all the trays and pans clean and back in their cupboards.
Charlie, meanwhile, has made a tray of coffees and we’ve got various things we can spike it with depending on preference. Elle has added a plate of mince pies and Nick’s panettone to another tray along with a pile of side plates and napkins and we have, in unspoken agreement, decided to take our pudding in the snug with the fire and the tree and our presents.
We agreed, when we were setting up this trip, on a Secret Santa instead of presents for everyone, and we’d had a random generator assign us all our person. We’d set a limit on the amount so that none of us could go crazy and then let our knowledge of each other take over from the organisation of having actual wishlists, so who knows what we’re all about to open. I’m proud of my present, and I know it’s going to get a laugh as well as be cherished.
“Who’s going first?” Sahar says when we’re all settled with our spiked coffee and mince pies. She’s looking around the room, everyone has suddenly become uncharacteristically deferential, or we’re all just too full for moving very quickly. “No volunteers eh? Fine, I’m going to start.” She goes under the tree and takes the present with her name. She opens it to find a t-shirt with the moniker ‘ Never Underestimate a Girl with a Bass Guitar ’ and some new picks. She grins around the room and clearly can’t quite identify her gifter, so she settles back down with a ‘“thank you” aimed at the whole room.
I move next, wanting to make sure that I’m out of the spotlight sooner rather than later. The box marked with my name is beautifully wrapped and I open it up gently by one of the corners, careful not to tear the paper. Inside is an absolutely beautiful embossing tool. The design is of an open book with a dragon hovering above it and around the edge it says: From the Library of Isaac Henderson. I stare at it in awe, the simplicity of the punch design and the craftsmanship of the personalised stamp are absolutely stunning. I grin around at everyone to show them. I am actually stunned that I don’t already have one of these, given how much I recommend and lend out my books to people. I am quickly imagining the pleasant evening in my library as I go through and emboss my books.
Tao reaches under the tree next and pulls out a small box with his name on it. He tears into it and pulls out what looks like a Fuji film canister. “Whoever you are, you know I’m a digital guy, right?!” he asks the room at large, while inspecting the canister for tricks. “Wait, hang on.” He tugs on the end of the protruding end of film. Out scrolls the cellophane, only the rectangles aren’t blank, they’re photographs of Tao and Elle, of all of us, printed in high quality, if small, onto the strip and it just keeps coming. There are photos from our language trip to Paris, from the end of school parties, from when we all met up for London Pride a few years ago, moments in our lives chronicled in minute detail. Tao is speechless and that doesn’t often happen. But he passes the strip around for all of us to take a look at and his lack of words speak volumes as to how much he appreciates his present.
Elle is up next and she pulls a cylindrical parcel out from under the tree, and the wrapping is… intriguing. She opens it up to find a tube with nine dice inside. She pours them out onto her hand to take a look at them and then exclaims when she figures out what they’re for. “Oh my goodness, these are going to be brilliant. They’re going to push me to mix things up.” She’s holding up the dice and showing them around. “One’s got colour palettes, one’s got different mediums, one’s got subjects. They’re going to make me let fate decide some things for my pieces. These are incredible, thank you!”
Nick is next to go under the tree to pull out his present. It’s a rectangular parcel, clumsily wrapped in sparkling silver paper with a lovely bow in the bisexual flag colours on the top right. That will have taken effort to find at this time of year, given all the silvers, golds, reds and greens that overtake the spectrum at Christmas. Nick holds it on his lap and tests its weight, then tugs at the paper and tears it open. He’s looking around at all of us to see if he can figure out who it’s from. We’re all working to keep our faces neutral – well, a few of us, because Darcy and I, we’re both trying to look like we’re trying to hide something in order to throw him off. I know it wasn’t me, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Darcy either. Inside is an absolutely beautiful line drawing in a frame.
Nick holds it up for us all to see and looks around the frame to check out the details. It’s got a picture of Nick’s childhood home, Truham, the Eiffel Tower, a rugby pitch, the front of the Leeds uni SU, Nellie in a corner, the beach where he and Charlie married, and finally the front door of their little house in Balham. It’s all laid out on a little winding road down the centre of the page, a roadmap of the story of Nick and Charlie’s life together. It’s absolutely beautiful. Nick’s eyes have gone glossy, and he’s holding Charlie’s hand as they both take it in.
“Whichever of you did this can fuck right off!” he declares, his voice thick with emotion.
We all laugh gently and no one owns up. I don’t know who actually gave it to him, but I suspect Elle as the artist, although it’s not obviously signed.
“Someone else go, before I embarrass myself further!” Nick smiles wetly around at us, aiming to divert attention away from him. He’s turned the frame back towards himself and is just gazing at it.
Imogen goes next and pulls out a pizza stone engraved with the phrase, “I’m sooooo ready for pizza”, which had quickly became her catchphrase after our first ever sleep over back in school.
Darcy opens a little box with a beautiful thumb ring set up in the pinks and oranges of the lesbian flag, and as they put it on they notice that the ring of colours spin around as they flick it with their finger. “This is going to be great for grounding when my menacing Year Threes are causing havoc in my classroom!” they say, with a thank you. They stare hard at me, trying to suss if it was from me and I let the most blank expression set across my face.
Charlie gets up and moves over to the tree to find his present, the square parcel that I lovingly wrapped myself. I watch intently, while keeping the neutral expression on my face as if I don’t know what’s inside. Charlie is like me and delicately unpeels the tape so as not to tear the paper. He unwraps the parcel and immediately lets out a delightful cackle, just as I’d hoped he would. He’s turning the calendar over and showing it to the others, and there are more howls of laughter as everyone takes in the 2025 calendar with the title “Museum Bums” sporting a very nude marble statue on the front with a prominent and very pert bottom on full display.
https://i.postimg.cc/NftCrmG3/A1no7n-OQmh-L-AC-UL480-FMwebp-QL65.webp
“Whoever you are, I’m going to need to know where you found this, because this is actual gold!” Charlie says as he laughs. He’s taken off the cellophane to flip through the rest of the pictures, and they’re all just as brilliant. I can’t wait to tell him that there’s a full on coffee table book that accompanies this, with details and many more pictures of museum bums.
There’s just one more person left to take their present from under the tree, and Darcy gets up to go and get the present for Tara. I get why now. Tara tears into the wrapping paper to reveal a set of five cocktail syrups.
“Oh my goodness, these look absolutely delicious!” Tara exclaims as she reads the back of the box and looks at the bases. “There’s a tonic, a sour, a cola, a ginger ale and a spritz. Oh and look at that, you can make them up as mocktails!”
Darcy flashes me a glance and I work hard on controlling my face. Seconds later, with quizzical expressions starting to show on the faces of the others, Tara realises the implications of having been excited about mocktails.
The two look at each other and a single expression passes between them, in which an entire conversation is held. They nod and turn back to the rest of us.
“We’re having a baby,” they say at the same time. “You’re all going to be aunts and uncles in June.”
There’s a general clamouring of excitement, and the new, fabulous news, just adds a layer of magic to an already magical Christmas day. I make sure to react appropriately surprised, so as not to give away that Darcy had actually told me already. I am so pleased for them. They’re going to be incredible parents, and this baby is going to be so spoiled with us as an extended family. They will want for nothing, and they will know so much love.
After all the hugs, we’ve all settled back in as Sahar grills Tara on how she’s managed to stay incognito with the amount of wine that’s been consumed already over the past few days. Darcy, it seems, has been taking one for the team, keeping their own glass filled while surreptitiously drinking from Tara’s to make sure it’s going down. The ingenuity is impressive, and they clearly had a game plan coming into this trip. I look over at Darcy and they’re holding up their pinky. I hold up mine and we mimic the motion of wrapping them together even though we’re sitting across the room from each other. I know that I’ve just agreed to be their baby’s godfather, or whatever the queer agnostic term for that is, and I’m honoured.
This Christmas will go down in the history books as one of the best and, not for the first time, I’m really glad that Mum’s decided to go skiing and that all of these incredible people, my found family, were all available to take this trip at the same time.
🎁Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays and have a wonderful New Year🎁