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Bernie pulled the box marked Christmas off the top shelf and stepped back down off the chair. Putting the box down on the bed, she opened it and began rooting through. Serena was out for the day, shopping in the nearby town, so she’d decided that she would start up the decorating process before she got back as a surprise. She’d even managed to talk the boys at the local shop into delivering the tree to the door, her rusty Spanish improving each day she spent here.
She smiled as she pulled out boxes of baubles and long strings of lights. It had been several years since she’d taken a proper part in the celebration of Christmas and she was surprised to find herself looking forward to it. Last year, the shadow of Cameron’s death had been hanging over her and she couldn’t cope with anything happy. She’d allowed Serena to light a candle for her son and hold her tightly as she wept but she’d refused to take part in any of the festivities. The year before she’d barely been aware of what time of year it was, her PTSD not yet being anything like under control. Then there was the Christmas she spent in captivity, not that she was sure what day it was there. Her captors didn’t celebrate and so there was nothing in her daily ordeal to indicate the day was anything special. The year before she’d spent the day alone in Nairobi. She gave a sad little chuckle as she remembered how miserable she’d been that day, leaving Serena behind in Holby when she’d thought they would spend the rest of their lives together. The only bright spot in the whole day had been a call from Charlotte. She’d thought at the time that it was the worst Christmas she could possibly have. How wrong she could be. So it was five years ago the last time she’d made any attempt at a proper celebration. Five years ago in France with Serena, on leave from the hospital in Sudan, in the little cottage on the edge of the vineyard. Bernie smiled now, remembering the day spent with copious quantities of wine, food and laughter, the cloud that had surrounded Serena after Elinor’s death finally lifting enough to allow her these days of happiness.
There was a CD of Christmas music in the box and Bernie put it into the player in the living room as she began transforming the room. Right on cue, the doorbell rang and Bernie found the tree there waiting for her.
“Gracias!” she shouted at the retreating figures.
“De nada!” they said, waving back at her as they climbed into their van.
Getting the tree into the house was something of a mission. Bernie was glad that she’d spent time building up her muscles this year as she hefted the large tree in through the door. There was a chill in the air but nothing like it would have been back in Holby which she was grateful for. The thought of lugging a tree around in the snow was not pleasant.
The tree finally in place, Bernie set about stringing up the lights. The lights were old ones that Serena had had for years, as were most things in the box. Serena kept the Christmas box with her wherever in the world she’d ended up each Christmas. Bernie was fairly certain that Jason had been in on it, storing the box over the rest of the year and shipping it out to Serena whether that be in France or Spain or Cornwall. But they’d been together in Spain for a year and a half now and the box was firmly in their possession all year.
She plugged in the lights using the handy adaptor that had been packed with them before attaching them to the tree to check for any blown bulbs. She ran her hands along the string, checking each one individually before satisfying herself that all was well. It had been something she’d been getting used to recently, the quiet joy of completing tasks in a slow, meticulous way. It had never been her way, preferring to rush in and firefight problems, but her condition, and Serena’s warning glances, had forced her to.
Standing on her tiptoes, she began wrapping the lights slowly around the tree, starting at the top and gradually looping them round, lower and lower. Once done, she reached for the first box of baubles and began decorating, Serena’s words from previous years echoing in her head. She spread out the different colours evenly as Serena preferred. She made sure that the baubles Elinor had made in childhood still took pride of place. She ensured that no bauble was blocking one behind it, each one getting its moment in the spotlight. And then she stepped back to admire her work. Perfect, she thought, a small smile creeping across her face. Perfect, just like Serena.
She turned back to the Christmas box to check what was left. Tucked away in the bottom, she opened a small cardboard box to find a collection of candles. She lifted the first one out, remembering the first time it was lit. It was the Christmas they spent in France five years ago, the last happy Christmas. And it had been happy. But this candle reminded her that there was still that undercurrent of sadness. The candle had been bought by Serena on a trip into the local town just before Christmas. She’d spent hours in different shops while Bernie trailed after her, confused but not willing to leave Serena alone while she was accepting her presence, until eventually Serena decided on this particular candle, a tall, dark red one.
“Elinor always liked red,” Serena had said on the drive home and the pieces had fallen into place for Bernie.
The previous Christmas, that strange memory of spending Christmas with Serena and all their children, so distant now as to seem like a dream, Serena had talked about the candles set on her mantlepiece, the ones she lit each Christmas for those that were forever missing. There was one for her father, one for her mother, one for a close friend she had lost years before. There were ones for grandparents and uncles and aunts, often originally bought by Adrienne but kept now by Serena. And now there was one for Elinor.
Bernie had held Serena around the waist very tightly as she lit that new candle on Christmas day, watching how Serena’s hand quivered but held steady enough for the flame to catch. Then they stood there in silence just watching the flames dance while tears ran down both of their faces.
Bernie lifted out the candle and glanced around for where to place it. There was no mantlepiece in the living room here but there was a large stone windowsill. She placed the candle down and went back to the box.
The next candle brought back more sad memories. This one she remembered clearly. It was only a year old. Serena had tried to persuade her to pick one herself in the shop but she couldn’t face it, still coming to terms with Cam’s death and by how he had spent the last part of his life. So Serena had picked for her, choosing one with a strong scent.
“Like your perfume,” Serena had said, “He used to like that, I remember you telling me, when you went away.”
Bernie held it to her face now and breathed in the smell, fighting against the tears. She didn’t want to cry right now, this was supposed to be a happy treat for Serena. She put the candle down next to the other one and reached back into the box.
What followed was a series of candles that she wasn’t sure who they were for. Some were familiar from those first two Christmas’s spent with Serena, but others were less familiar. She pulled them each out, wondering who they represented for Serena. There were so many. Her heart squeezed as she thought about Serena dealing with all of this loss, and dealing with it alone. She wouldn’t allow Serena to go through anything else alone every again.
Wiping away a few stray tears, Bernie set to putting up the rest of the decorations. There were ornaments that Bernie placed on the coffee table and a wreath for the door. Bernie was just in the middle of stringing up the small number of Christmas cards they had received when the front door opened.
“Bernie?” Serena’s voice called, “Is the wreath your doing?”
She walked into the living room and her breath caught. Bernie stepped down off the chair and walked over to her, awaiting her judgement.
“Oh Bernie, this looks lovely,” Serena said, her hand reaching out towards Bernie.
Bernie took her hand gratefully and squeezed it tight. “I wanted to celebrate properly this year.”
She felt Serena’s gaze on her and looked over to see her eyes blazing.
“Come here,” Serena said, pulling their joined hands until Bernie was close enough to kiss.
Bernie sunk into Serena’s touch, letting it ground her. There had been a brief, horrible period of time after she had been rescued when even Serena’s touch had caused her to panic but that was long in the past now. The press of Serena’s lips on her own, the feel of her arms wrapping around her, her body pressing against her from head to toe, it all just made her feel calm.
Serena pulled away from Bernie to survey the room. Her eyes lighted on the candles set on the windowsill and she gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Without saying a word, she stepped away from Bernie and walked over to the candles. She ran her fingers gently over one of the candles Bernie hadn’t recognised and prompted burst into tears.
Bernie rushed over to her, desperate to comfort her.
“Serena?” she asked, wrapping her arms around Serena from behind and squeezing. “Are you…? Did I…?”
She didn’t know how to form the question. Had she done something wrong? Did Serena not want her to touch the candles that meant so much to her?
Serena said nothing but she spun in Bernie’s arms and pressed her face into Bernie’s shoulder, her hands grasping at Bernie’s jumper. Bernie just rubbed soothing circles into Serena’s back until her sobs eased, glad that at least she hadn’t done anything terrible enough to cause Serena to run from her.
They sunk down onto the sofa once Serena was calm enough to let go of Bernie. Serena had picked up the offending candle and was smoothing her fingers over it in a gentle motion, her eyes fixed on it.
“Sorry,” she said, not looking at Bernie, “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Bernie replied, placing a hand on Serena’s knee and squeezing. “I shouldn’t have touched the candles. I know they mean a lot to you.”
Serena’s head shot up and she gave Bernie a disapproving look. “Bernie, you did nothing wrong. You have every right to put the candles out. You’ve got people you miss represented there as well.”
Bernie nodded but she still couldn’t get rid of the feeling that she had upset Serena with her actions.
“I never told you about this candle did I?” Serena continued.
She held it out to Bernie and Bernie took it from her. The candle was a deep royal blue one housed in a glass jar. The wick was black indicating that the candle had been lit before but there was barely a dint in the wax around it. Bernie realised that it must have been one of the new ones that Serena had acquired over the past couple of years. She thought back, trying to remember which of Serena’s friends and colleagues had died more recently, and which ones might produce such a reaction.
Serena sat and watched Bernie turn the candle over in her hands but said nothing more until Bernie lifted her head and looked at her enquiringly.
“I’ve had that candle just over three years now,” Serena said, reaching out a hand to touch it, “I bought it in that little gift shop behind the Marks and Spencer’s in the middle of Holby. Do you know it?”
Bernie nodded. She didn’t want to ruin the flow of Serena’s story with words.
“I only lit it once, that first Christmas, and then I got the news that summer that you’d been found.”
A lump came into Bernie’s throat as she put the pieces together and realised what this candle meant.
“It’s mine?” she asked in a small voice.
Serena nodded, tears beginning to glint in her eyes again. “I didn’t know what to do with it after… well after I got that call saying you’d been found. So I just let it sit at the bottom of the box with the others for the last two years. I couldn’t throw it away, not when…”
Serena’s words broke up as her tears began to flow more freely. Bernie reached a hand to her own face to find it was wet as well.
“Oh god Bernie it hurt so much when I thought you were dead, so much, but I had to carry on because you weren’t supposed to mean anything to me anymore but you did. You always did. I never, ever stopped loving you. And doing anything to that candle felt like tempting fate. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you again.”
Serena flung herself into Bernie, knocking her flat, her head resting on the arm of the sofa and the weight of Serena on top of her. Bernie gingerly lifted her hands to rub Serena’s back. Serena had never talked much about what it was like while she was missing. She’d talked about the basic details of how her and Cam had found out, about Alex coming back to tell them, about Marcus organising the funeral, but she’d never once talked about how she’d felt. She hoped that Serena had been talking to her therapist about it but she’d never asked. Bernie knew Serena well enough to recognise that Serena didn’t feel like she deserved to feel hurt when Bernie had been suffering so much, both during her captivity and the long months of recovery afterwards. Maybe this was the first time she’d realised that Bernie was well enough to hear about how she’d felt. Bernie wrapped her arms around Serena tighter and hoped that Serena knew she could tell Bernie anything.
“I love you,” she whispered into Serena’s ear, “I love you.”
Serena lifted her head enough to look Bernie in the eye for a second before crushing her lips against Bernie’s. Bernie gasped at the sudden contact and Serena took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. One of her hands buried itself in Bernie’s hair and the other one ran up and down Bernie’s side before moving over her chest. Her whole body pressed into Bernie’s getting as close as was physically possible. Bernie allowed herself to sink into the feeling of having Serena right there with her.
When Serena’s hand began reaching for her clothes, tugging on her jumper and trying to undo the button on her jeans, Bernie pulled herself away enough to get out one word.
“Bed?”
Serena’s lips landed right back on hers as soon as the word was spoken and Bernie had to gently press her away again, her hands on her shoulders. Serena whined at the loss.
“Come on, let’s go to the bedroom. I’m far too old to mess around on an uncomfortable sofa anymore.”
Reluctantly, Serena slid off Bernie and offered her a hand, tugging her to her feet before pulling her up the stairs into their little bedroom. She pushed Bernie down onto the bed and climbed back on top of her. This time, Bernie allowed her to undress her, reaching herself for the buttons on Serena’s jacket and then the hem of her jumper. She sighed at the first press of bare skin against bare skin, wondering if she would ever get used to this feeling. Then Serena’s clever fingers began their work and she stopped thinking at all.
Later, after a quick meal that Serena threw together, they were once more on the sofa, both of them dressed in warm flannel pyjamas. Serena’s head was resting in Bernie’s lap and Bernie’s fingers were idly running through Serena’s hair as a film played out on the tv in front of them. The royal blue candle sat on the coffee table in front of them and more often than not, Bernie found her eyes drifting away from the film and towards the candle, admiring the blue that was so like her trauma scrubs, thinking once more about the years they’d spent apart.
“Serena?” she said, her hand pausing in its ministrations.
“Mmm?” Serena rolled over onto her back so she could look up at Bernie.
“Do you think we can light the candle?”
Serena’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Bernie took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. “I just… thought it might be nice to change its meaning, make it a celebration of us, of how we made it through everything.”
Serena pushed herself up to a seated position, grabbing the remote and switching off the tv. She turned to look at Bernie, saying nothing. Bernie searched her face, trying to figure out what Serena was thinking, trying to stop herself from panicking that she’d just made a huge mistake.
Serena leant into Bernie and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Ok,” she said firmly, “Ok, yes. Let’s light the candle.”
Bernie fetched the box of matches from the kitchen and placed them next to the candle.
“Do you want to?” she asked, pointing towards them.
Serena shook her head. “I think you should. Feels right. You coming back to me is the reason why this candle isn’t lit anymore. So you should be the one to light it again.”
Bernie shook her head. “No, it’s your candle. You should.”
Serena turned her body to face Bernie. She reached out both her hands and took Bernie’s, her thumbs rubbing circles into them.
“Bernie, we’ve both been through the mill over the last few years and yet here we are, together again despite everything. There is only one way that we are going to light that candle.”
Bernie smiled, realising what Serena was hinting at. “Together?”
“Together.”
Serena reached for the box, pulling out a pair of matches. She lit one, handing it to Bernie, before lighting the next. Then, together, they reached the flames towards the candle and watched at the wick caught and the candle lit.
Once the matches had been extinguished, Serena leant back into Bernie and pulled Bernie’s arms tightly around her as they watched the candle flame dance.
“We’ll have to move the candles before Guin gets here,” Serena commented, “I’m quite attached to this little house now. Don’t want her burning it down.”
Bernie chuckled. “I’ll put them somewhere safe, don’t worry. We’ve got a few days yet.”
Serena yawned. “And when’s Charlotte getting in? You did tell me but I can’t remember.”
“Christmas eve. She couldn’t get any more time off work.”
“Be nice,” Serena said, relaxing further into Bernie, “Having everyone here for Christmas. I’ve missed that.”
Bernie hummed her agreement. She was looking forward to it herself. Charlotte had been over several times now, and Jason liked to bring his family over during the summer months, but this would be the first time in a long time that they would have a proper family Christmas. And with all the pain of the last few years, she hadn’t believed that it would ever be possible again.
Her eyes drifted over to the candles sat on the windowsill. They weren’t yet lit but she knew Serena would light them all on Christmas day to remember those that were no longer with them. While the thought of Guin and matches worried Bernie as much as it did Serena, she wondered if Guin was old enough now to have the significance explained to her, to hear tales of all these people that she wouldn’t remember herself, to learn the family tradition passed down through generations of Serena’s family.
The candle continues to glow in front of them as Bernie felt Serena grow heavier in her arms. She nudged her, wishing that she was strong like she’d been in the army. Strong enough to carry Serena to bed without waking her. But that strength was long gone now and so she gently woke Serena and sent her on her way to bed. Bernie knelt down next to the candle and watched it for a few more second, a small smile creeping onto her face. Then she snuffed it out and followed Serena into their warm bed, curling up close to her like always, like she planned to do forever.