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1994.
Mum had written a long list of names on the inside cover of a charity Christmas card box from the fundraiser at the village church. It was a list of everyone who we were writing Christmas cards to that year; family, neighbours and everyone in my Year 4 class at school. She’d done well to remember everyone’s names but she’d missed the most important boy in my class, my best friend Aaron - but he was a Dingle and Dad had said Sugden’s can’t be friends with Dingle’s.
I’d sat at the table with Andy and Victoria writing cursive with a special Gold gel pen only used at Christmas. My brother and I wrote messages in the cards and our little Victoria licked the envelopes. That night after mince pies and custard I’d pocketed the shiny Gold pen, shoved an unwritten Christmas card under my knitted jumper and made excuses for an early night. Dad hadn’t questioned it, too busy watching festive films with my siblings but Mum had seen me, giving me a knowing look that promised she’d keep my secret.
Later that night she’d crept into my bedroom while Andy was long asleep, my best friend’s card was hidden safely in a shoebox under my bed and I was squeezing my eyes shut pretending to be asleep in case it was Dad sneaking through the doorway. “I’ve got a little something for that boy of yours” Mum had whispered kindly, a tiny wooden nutcracker dangling from sparkly silver thread on her forefinger “He can put it on his Christmas tree” she’d smiled warmly and I’d thanked her with a bone-crushing hug before hiding it in the box with the card.
On Christmas Eve Aaron and I met at our hiding place in the woods, an old bird-watching hut well hidden from every angle that we’d turned into a den last summer. We’d swiped blankets and soft furnishings from our homes to make it extra cosy for the Winter, Aaron had taken one of “Granny Clegg’s crocheted blankets” and I’d been too mesmerised by threading my fingers through the holes to question who she was. Aaron offered me half a gingerbread man that Belle had made with her Mum earlier that day, it was still warm. “Belle did the icing” He pointed out the messy looking decoration that the toddler had attempted “Looks a right state, tastes alright though” he’d shrugged.
We’d swapped cards later that day, as always Aaron’s was home-made. It wasn’t that the Dingle’s were in poverty but they were definitely poor, Aaron’s card featured a wide-eyed Father Christmas partially coloured in with the streaky ink of a dried-up felt tip pen. He’d excused himself by explaining that the Dingle’s were not wasting money on boxed cards, there were more important things than printed pictures at that time of year and I had known it was the words his family had used when he asked, like every year, for 20p to buy a card from Viv and Bob’s shop.
I appreciated Aaron’s attempt much more than a generic Christmas card though, I’d kept the artwork from the previous year in the back of the 1991 Beano album on top of my wardrobe, taking it out just to show Mum and then no one else. They wouldn’t understand, he wasn’t just a Dingle, he was my friend. “I’ve got you a present” I’d told him excitedly, pulling the tiny nutcracker carefully from my pocket and holding it out in front of him. Aaron had reached out a grubby hand, letting me place the tiny figure in his palm as he gazed at it in awe. “For me?” He’d whispered, as though he was trying not to startle the wooden ornament, I had nodded eagerly “Mum helped me, I thought you could put it on your tree”
“Thank you” Aaron had said shyly before worriedly announcing “I haven’t got anything to give you though” I shook my head happily, warmed by the gratefulness of Aaron’s expression. “That’s not what Christmas is about” I replied, pulling the shorter boy into a warm hug “Happy Christmas Aaron.” Pocketing his gift carefully Aaron looked up at me, unable to hide his shy grin “Happy Christmas Rob.”
--
2000.
Mum’s death had hit me hard, harder than anyone else in my broken family or so it seemed. Andy had cruelly owned up to her murder, claiming it was for insurance and he hadn’t known she was in there. It was a pitiful excuse but Dad bought it, even to the point he’d covered for him when the police had asked and by now the tension had lifted, Dad and Andy were closer than ever leaving me to mourn for the second Mum that had been cruelly snatched from my heart. Victoria was still quite young, not understanding the gravity of the situation and that our Mum wasn’t just on holiday somewhere, she wasn’t coming back. I wished hard that I could have Victoria’s innocence, maybe my head wouldn’t be so messed up if I had.
Aaron and I had met at our usual spot in the woods, I’d made sure to lose Andy who I knew was following me, always trying to see what I was up to so he could go and inform Dad. Andy had caught me and Aaron playing on his Gameboy at the cricket pavilion a few months back, he’d gone straight back to tell Dad that I’d skipped farming duties to play with the rough lad from Wishing Well Cottage. Dad hadn’t taken it well - already stressed out from me skipping lambing season to revise for my exams and now this? Fraternizing with the enemy? He’d taken his belt to me, not for the first time but somehow it was a thousand times worse than before with my brother smirking from the doorway.
Aaron’s card that year featured a caricature of Santa’s reindeer wearing Doc Marten boots and chasing sweet old Edna Birch down Main Street while two stick-boys, presumably us, laughed hysterically from the side of the road. I’d beamed at the drawing while Aaron read my shop-bought card, pocketing the two stolen cigarettes I’d hidden inside. “How’s home?” He’d asked, and it was something he asked me every day so the sour expression on my face had spoken a thousand words before I even opened my mouth. “That bad, huh?” He sighed, draping his arm across my shoulder and pulling me into a side-hug. “Just want this year to be over” I admitted, resting my head on his shoulder and picking at the fibres of the blanket slung over us.
“You know you can always spend Christmas with us? Lisa wouldn’t mind” Aaron offered, it was something he mentioned a lot - me leaving the Sugden’s and joining the opposing side, I could picture the look on my Dad’s face, his eldest remaining son - a fully fledged Dingle, but then I’d pictured Victoria’s face, waking up on Christmas morning without her big brother to tell her all about Santa and I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. “Thanks Aaron.”
It was coming up to eight o’clock when we emerged from our hiding place, all set off to go our opposite ways and try to enjoy a Christmas with our families. Snow had begun to fall consistently now, sticking to the trees and coating the ground. “I love snow” Aaron had said, looking up at the white sky. “It’s beautiful” I’d commented staring at the falling snowflakes before bringing my gaze down to Aaron. I hadn’t had time to register his unreadable expression, somewhere between nervous and curious before he pressed his chapped lips firmly against mine. Bewildered I waited for him to pull away before allowing the stars in my head to settle, he bit his lip absently flickering his eyes to the ground and awaiting a reaction.
I responded by cradling his jaw gently with my right hand, leaning in and engulfing his mouth with mine, my tongue sliding past his lips and exploring his hot mouth. Not my first kiss, by far but definitely the first one that ever mattered. We pulled away after what felt a long period of exploration but not long enough at the same time and I was almost certain my face mirrored his, eyes blown wide with a nervous pink tinge to his puffy cheeks. “Merry Christmas Aaron” I’d whispered, “Merry Christmas Rob” he’d smiled shyly.
It could have been the best Christmas Eve by far if it hadn’t been for the crunch of twigs a few seconds later, We’d spun around rapidly searching for the location of the sound and praying it was an animal finding shelter but the sneer of my brother backing away from the scene distorted all hope I had of a peaceful Christmas. “Fucking Queer!” he’d yelled spitefully, sprinting off towards our farm. “Dad’s gonna fucking kill me” I’d groaned, looking back towards Aaron’s sympathetic face.
--
2005.
Aaron and I’s encounter had become public knowledge after that and the shame of our family, much more than the fact my Brother had caused my Mums death. Dad hadn’t spoke of it since ruining Christmas that year, Andy had more than enjoyed watching me get leathered and banished to my room for the entire Christmas period, it’s not like I missed Christmas dinner when it wasn’t Mums cooking anyway. The Dingle’s had been disappointed in Aaron, not for admitting he was gay but for “being gay with a Sugden lad of all people!” The drama had died down a few weeks later, Chas had been proud of Aaron for coming out and I could only wish that my family had had the same reaction, but here I was still stuck in the limbo of I-Fancy-Lads-But-My-Dad-Refuses-To-Talk-About-It.
I had known I was the least favourite of the Sugden children since a short while after Andy was adopted but it didn’t become obvious to outsiders until I grew older. I’d see villagers tut and shake their heads when Dad berated me in public, constantly asked “Why can’t you be more like Andy?” and drowning in disappointed stares from my relatives. Was it any wonder I’d gone off the rails as I flew head-first into my teenage years? The long list of my failures was ever-growing and my nineteenth year brought more than my Dad was willing to deal with, ending with the event that led to our friend Max King’s death. Andy and I had both been equally involved, letting our mutual hate for one and other harm someone other than ourselves but of course Andy wasn’t at fault, he never was.
“What’s in the bag?” Aaron had asked, arriving at our meeting point “If that’s my present you’ve outdone yourself this time Sugden, I’ve only bought you a few cans.” My solemn expression had wiped the grin from his face as he sat next to me. “Dad’s kicked me out” I sighed, letting my head fall back against the wooden wall-panel. Aaron hadn’t questioned it and I knew he wouldn’t push me to go back there even if it meant us both spending Christmas our secret den, something I’d much rather than play house sat in a room of family members that despised my very existence. “Come on, you” He sighed pitifully, tugging my arm “You’re coming back with me.” I’d barely put up a protest like I would have done years before, resigned to the fate that I wasn’t ever going to be welcomed back to the Sugden farm.
I hadn’t spent much time at Wishing Well Cottage, it wasn’t that I wasn’t welcome it’s just the question in the air was always “What would Jack think?” and I hadn’t wanted to step on anyone’s toes. Aaron’s Mum, Chas still lived there most of the time but spent the rest of her free time inviting herself to stay at Paddy Kirk’s. I hadn’t understood what she could see in the bumbling vet’s personality to make her that interested but who was I to judge? And Aaron had said he was like a Dad to him really, much better than the real thing he had to spend time with at weekends. Wishing Well was overrun with Dingles, Zak and Lisa being the heads of the family, then Sam and his son; also a Sam, Baby Belle who wasn’t so much a baby any more, Aaron in his own room and Chas who sometimes slept on the threadbare sofa but was mostly overstaying her welcome at Smithy Cottage.
All eyes had been on him as soon as he entered the Dingle’s home, he’d glanced around nervously at the eyes boring into him and missed Aaron’s introduction, instead coming back to Earth when the words “Can he stay?” were uttered. “Am I gonna have Jack banging on my door looking for you?” Zak spoke first, directly at me. I shook my head “Told me to do one and leave the village for good” receiving a short nod from Zak before he looked over at his wife. Lisa was the warm one, the one with a good heart that radiated off her smile, she reminded me of my Mum - a proper maternal figure, even to those who weren’t strictly her own. “Move up Sammy” Lisa had called “Let the boys get in front of the fire, must be minus three out there!” and that’s how it had happened, no awkward questions or feelings of resentment, I’d been accepted into their family.
Christmas day was different to the previous years. Usually I’d quietly get dressed and go downstairs, we’d sit in front of the tree and wait for Dad to finish feeding the livestock before even looking at a present. It would be a quiet exchange of gifts and then we’d phone around various family members we hadn’t spoken to since the Christmas before to thank them for the generic cards they’d sent out with best wishes. Then dinner would be served in silence, Dad would carve the turkey and I’d clumsily spill the gravy or serve myself too many roast potatoes. Dad would start off with a huff which slowly turned to metaphorical steam bellowing from his ears. Christmas evening would be Andy and Victoria playing monopoly on the floor in front of the log fire, Dad would be sipping whisky from a crystal tumbler and I’d be shut up in my room, getting a head start on my school work for January because what else was there to do?
Aaron and I had slept underneath about four blankets, the Dingle’s didn’t have central heating and the warmth of the open fire didn’t spread all the way up to the granny flat in which Aaron slept. I’d packed just one bag but included enough to get me by for a few weeks, Aaron had laughed at my tartan pyjama bottoms but they looked a damn-sight better than his old tracksuit bottoms with the knees washed out. We’d awoken that morning to Belle and little Sam jumping on our shared bed shrieking “Santa’s been, Santa’s been!”
Aaron had tickled them playfully until they’d ran out of the room squealing to wake the others while we woke up properly. Downstairs we were met with tacky Christmas lights and tinsel wrapped around picture frames and wooden beams, the children were bouncing excitedly underneath the 3ft tree and Aaron’s Grandad Shadrach was more than a bit drunk, even for 7am. Everyone had one gift each and even though they weren’t expensive or extravagant each person had an enthusiastic grin, dancing around to the cheesy Christmas hits played from an old tape player in the kitchen.
“This is for you Robert!” Belle had beamed excitedly, I’d glanced around the room taken-aback, I’d barely been there twelve hours and already they’d scraped around to find me something to open. I peeled away the re-used wrapping paper to find a bright red jumper, knitted from the wool I suspiciously saw Lisa knitting together the night before. “Thank you” I beamed gratefully, an honest smile that I couldn’t hide. It wasn’t that the jumper was great, or something I wanted but that it was so unexpected it swelled my heart ten sizes to know that I’d been considered, they’d given me a gift not for anything other than making me feel happy and included on Christmas morning. I’d pulled it over my head instantly, grinning ear to ear as I looked down at the shabby wool.
Aaron had a similar gift, his pull-over being a dark forest green that was enough to bury his short stature. “You’ll grown into it” Lisa had pointed, “Thanks Lis’, I love it” Aaron had grinned. We sat around the table that afternoon, Chas, Sam and Paddy giving up their seats to allow Aaron and I to sit together with the children, Zak and Lisa. They sat with their dinner on their laps watching the Queens speech, each one of us donning a paper crown and tucking into some warm, home-cooked food. No one could beat my Mums roast potatoes but she definitely had competition in Lisa for the best Yorkshire puddings.
That Christmas was the beginning of a new life for me, a life where I was appreciated and valued, a life where I felt wanted and useful. Aaron and I had gone to bed that night hopeful for the approaching new year, and though it pained me to begin a life without my family I was comforted in the fact I’d be sharing it with my best friend and my new family.
--
2009.
Dad had died that year and I’d gone to his funeral out of respect for the father I’d once known. Victoria and I had grown closer over the months and even though Andy and I shared a mutual dislike for one and another we managed to be civil most of the time for her sake. Aaron was working full time at the garage now and I’d taken an apprenticeship working with computers up at home farm, we still lived together though - Chas had bought a 50% share in the Woolpack and now lived there with Diane and Victoria, she’d invited Aaron to move in and not surprisingly he’d refused until he was assured I was welcome to share the room too.
We’d been steadily dating for above a year by then, though the Dingles weren’t surprised when we finally went public. “You mean to tell me you weren’t doing the dirty before now?” Cain had accused, causing the entire family to erupt with laughter as my cheeks turned Scarlet. Victoria had accepted me for who I was, as had Diane but Andy was proving difficult. Though he was settled himself in a relationship with Katie, the local stable-girl he still made my life his business, failing to hide the disgusted expression he donned the first time Aaron and I shared a kiss in the pub.
Christmas at the Woolpack was a little different to back at Wishing Well, sure we still had the traditions of drunk Shadrach murdering karaoke on Christmas eve and Paddy drooling all over Chas in her Mrs Claus costume, but there was something more enjoyable about waking up in the pub and having Marlon on cue to cook us Christmas breakfast and then dinner. Aaron and I had still made it a tradition to meet in our den on Christmas eve though, swapping presents without the prying eyes of our families. We snuggled under the blankets and spoke of old times for hours on end until we made the half-drunk walk back through the woods and out into the village.
Christmas dinner was extravagant, the Dingles were all invited and the remaining Sugden’s joined in too. Katie tried her best to distract Andy from the sulking glares he was shooting across the table but I didn’t let it bother me, I was happy, I was home and this was my family now, he couldn’t ruin this one. Later in the evening Aaron and I drunkenly cuddled up on the sofa in the back room to watch the Dr Who Christmas special, not that he had any interest at all but all the same it was nice to share a comfortable moment together while everyone else enjoyed the party in the pub.
“I still don’t get what’s so scary about a Dalek” Aaron mumbled, legs over my lap and head resting against my shoulder, nursing a bottle of larger that I’d lost count of past 10.
“They can fly now” I said obviously “We were safe before because they couldn’t get up the stairs”
Aaron had snorted “Like you when you’ve had one too many then?”
I’d nudged him playfully with my shoulder, resting my cheek against his head and going on to watch an old Christmas film as Aaron’s soft drunken snores filled the room, I wasn’t far behind him - letting my heavy eyes grow tired and not stirring until hours later when I awoke to a drunk Chas and Charity taking “Cute photo’s!” of our sleeping forms. “Ugh! Piss off Mum!” Aaron had groaned, shoving the camera away.
I still keep a copy of the photo in my wallet.
--
2018.
Liv had been part of our lives for a while now, Aaron’s double almost in more ways than one. Like her brother she had a smart-mouth and a tendency to find herself in deep trouble. I’d questioned how we were supposed to take care of a mouthy teenager when we couldn’t even care for ourselves but now, a few years on it felt normal, Liv had grown into our lives as well as our hearts and we hadn’t truly been our own little family until she came along.
We’d moved into the Mill by now, using funds from Aaron’s job and my investment in his new project, the scrapyard to turn the derelict building into what we needed, our home. It wasn’t our first Christmas with Liv but It was the first one in our own home, away from the support of the Dingles and Diane. It was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. Liv had pestered us for a real tree for months and Aaron had complained about having an “actual fucking tree” in place of the artificial ones he’d been used to all his life. But him being the softer touch in our parenting double-act had given up without much of a fight and by Christmas week we had a 7ft spruce in our living room and an old box of decorations from the Dingle’s house to go wild with.
Liv’s face was a picture, even at nearly 16 years old she was like a toddler when it came to dressing the tree. Her entire face was illuminated as she wrapped tinsel around every surface possible and by the time her Spotify Christmas playlist had finished we wear eating roast pork sandwiches in front of the fire. “This is well mint, Mum never let’s me dress the tree by myself” She bounced excitedly, looking at her handiwork. “Well If you’re a good girl Santa will bring you lots of presents” Aaron cooed childishly, earning a shove from the feisty girl.
By the time Liv was in bed I was sprawled out on the sofa watching the end of Love Actually, Aaron had gone up shortly after her to have a shower and get ready for bed, I’d cooked the turkey that evening to save a job for tomorrow and now with the house smelling of the over-powering Christmas Candle’s Victoria had palmed off on us I was feeling relaxed and anticipating Christmas morning. Aaron came downstairs in his jogging bottoms and one of my t-shirts, his wet curls leaving droplets of water on the back of his neck but instead of joining me on the sofa he headed towards the tree, messing with one of the branches, his back facing me.
I shuffled behind him, sliding my arms around his middle and resting my chin on his shoulder. “What are you up to?” I mumbled, kissing his shoulder softly. “Couldn’t let Liv hang all the decorations herself, could I?” he smiled, turning to press his lips against mine. As I pulled away I glanced at the new addition on the tree… a tiny wooden nutcracker with sparkly silver thread. “You kept it, all this time?” I whispered, turning to meet his gaze. “Always” He whispered, pulling me into a soft kiss that stopped the tears threatening to spill from my glassy eyes.
“Merry Christmas Rob”
“Merry Christmas Aaron”