“What’s brought you out in this weather?” I asked as we continued through the village.
“I’ve been at the graveyard paying my respects to my mam and dad. I’d have gone this morning but there was no way I was going out in that blizzard. Did you see it?”
“I was cutting the tree down in it,” I replied.
“I should have known you’d be doing something stupid,” she said with a grin. She linked her arm to mine and pulled me close causing Gethin to glance at us and give me a knowing nod. It was obvious that he thought Mair was the one I had eyes for but I did nothing to correct him.
By the time we reached the post office, Nellie was already waiting outside and a layer of snow had settled on her.
“You made it,” she said, kissing Gethin on each cheek and then scanning around to make sure nobody saw her do it. Their courtship, and the etiquette of it, fascinated me. So different from the couples of my own time, Nellie and Gethin were expected to adhere to a strict set of rules until they were married. Naturally, those rules were sometimes bent, and her kiss on his cheek was particularly brazen, but they were never left alone together and he’d never spent the night which seemed completely alien to me.
At the entrance to the pub across the street, a group of carollers had gathered to sing hymns and a small crowd had encircled them. We walked over to watch them and Gethin threw a shilling in an upturned hat they had laid out, earning smiles from them as they sang.
“How did your courtship go?” I teased Mair, careful not to be overheard.
She looked up at me sternly. “How did yours go?” she replied, cocking an eyebrow and giving me a smirk.
“I, uh, I…” I spluttered, suddenly lost for words. “Very funny.”
“Everyone else in this village might be stupid,” she said, keeping her eyes locked on the singers, “but you should know better to think anything gets past me.” She looked up at me, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “You two have been making eyes like silly teenagers for weeks now. You’re many things, Tom Jacob, but subtle is not one of them. Just be mindful.”
Her words made me nervous. The era wasn’t known for its accepting nature and there was trouble to be had if the wrong person became suspicious but she seemed surprisingly nonchalant and I felt somewhat relieved that I might finally have someone to discuss such things with, even if it did involve me admitting to a crush on her brother.
I wanted to play it cool but I couldn’t help the slight grin that spread across my face as I tried to act coy. “I honestly don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” she replied, turning back to look at the carollers.
“Besides, I think Gethin thinks we may be sneaking around, you and I.”
“You wish,” she scoffed.
“Hey!” I said, giving her another nudge in the side. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re perfectly delightful,” she said sarcastically, “but I have my sights set elsewhere.”
“Mr Jones?”
“Not likely. He’s a handsome man but so terribly boring. One walk to the post office and I was ready to jump in front of the next stagecoach. If only he wouldn’t speak,” she said with a sly grin.
“So, who is the unlucky man?”
“That, Tom, you will just have to wait and see.”
“Nellie is ready to get back now,” Gethin said, coming around the crowd to us. “Miss Griffiths, do you need an escort home?”
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Tom, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, hugging me before departing.
Once dinner was eaten and Gethin had said his goodbyes the family all gathered in the sitting room to decorate the tree. I’d been lucky to get a seat near the fireplace and watched as the children hung the ribbons and paper chains they’d made around the room and on the tree. It was nothing like any Christmas tree I’d ever seen before but despite having none of the razzle-dazzle I was accustomed to, the effort that had gone into acquiring it, making the decorations and having everyone join in to decorate it, made it my favourite of all the Christmas trees I’d had.
Along the mantel, Mrs Hopkin had set out a row of Christmas cards that kept catching my eye. Far from bringing joy, they were some of the most terrifying images I’d ever seen. One or two had traditional snow scenes but the majority were adorned with oddly shaped animals and people who looked terrified. One, sent by her sister who lived in London, had an image of the Devil on it, all horns and cloven feet, holding a small chubby boy upside down by his ankle with the words ‘Merry Christmas’ written above it. It was quite possibly the least merry thing I’d ever seen.
As I watched the Hopkin’s come together to decorate the house I began to think of my own family and what they might be doing.
I’d been in Wales for two months and without realising it, I’d stopped feeling as though I was stuck and had come to be quite settled. Free of the shackles of the office and expectations at home, I’d begun to think of them less and less and the realisation of that filled me with guilt. I’d even stopped going back to the barn so frequently to try on the ring. Did I even want to go back anymore? My life had changed so much and though I hated having to admit it to myself, I was happier than I’d been in years.
I wondered if they missed me. Was time continuing on as normal now that I was no longer a part of it, or had it stopped the second I’d travelled through it? If life was continuing without me, then what would things be like?
I stared at the brandy in my hand and thought of my dad and his scotch; how he would offer us a drink each Christmas Eve as we sat down to watch old films and how the smell of mum’s cooking filled the house. As children, Lee, Sophia and I would sneak down to see if the presents were there, expecting bikes and consoles, new clothes and the latest gadgets. We never wanted for anything but I never realised the important things that we didn’t have until I met the Hopkin’s.