Verity, meanwhile, was not to be appeased.
“Are you done with the aunts now?” Hands switched to hips like a mini Monica Geller.
Maggie raised a warning eyebrow, and some of Verity’s bluster deflated.
“I just want to feel Christmassy,” she said quietly.
Maggie pulled her into a hug. “And you will. Come on, then, let’s go home.” She looked around at her sisters. “Sorry, I did promise. I’ll try and get over tomorrow to do some more sorting.”
Verity pulled away from her and turned on her biggest puppy eyes. “Can the aunties come too? Please, Mama?” She peered around Maggie to Star and Simone. “Would you like to help us put up the Christmas decorations? It’s so fun. Mama makes hot chocolate with sprinkles and freezer biscuits, and she always saves the biggest tree from the shop for us. Can they come, Mama?”
“Of course they can.” Maggie smiled. “If they’re not busy.” She turned and smiled apologetically at her sisters. “There’s no pressure. But you are very welcome.”
Part of Simone wanted to run back to the Dalgleish cottage and hide under the bedclothes until morning. But a bigger part of her needed the comfort of being surrounded by her family. Pull up your big-girl pants and make some memories with your niece, she told herself.
“We’d love to!” she said, and was rewarded with Verity’s beaming smile. “But I have a question: What are freezer biscuits?”
“I always keep a batch of uncooked biscuits in the freezer for fresh hot biscuit emergencies,” Maggie answered.
“I can confirm they are excellent,” added Joe. “Maggie’s freezer biscuits are one of the reasons I stay in Rowan Thorp.”
Star leaned over Maggie’s shoulder and stage-whispered, “I bet I know what the other reasons are.”
Maggie tried not to grin and shoved her sister off.
“And Duncan!” Verity piped up. “He needs to come too.”
“Oh, darling, I’m not sure Duncan will want to help decorate our tree.”
“Course he will.” Star’s face lit up. “Duncan!” she called to the back of the shop. “Grab your coat, we’re going to Maggie’s.”
There was the scratching sound of a chair being moved and then Duncan appeared.
“That’s very kind of you, but I’ve just found a rather interesting amulet that I think might be medieval . . .”
“Well, if it’s been around for that long, it can wait until Monday,” Star goaded. “And anyway, you’ve been working since half past eight this morning. Even Sotheby’s appraisers are allowed to clock off at a reasonable hour on a Saturday.”
Duncan looked a little awkward. “I mean, if you don’t mind . . .” He glanced shyly at Maggie.
“Not at all.” She smiled reassuringly. “You are very welcome. Come join us for some freezer biscuits.”
“Right, that’s settled, then. What are we waiting for?” Simone turned to Star. “Are you ready for some decorating?”
“I was born ready,” said Star.
“Woo-hoo!” cried Verity, taking Joe’s hands and dancing a jig on the spot. “Come on! We have to do it before bedtime.”
Star locked the curios shop door, and they all headed across the street to Maggie’s house.
“Remind me how old Verity is?” Simone asked quietly.
Maggie laughed. “She’s ten with a stroppy age of fourteen.”
“She’s going to be a handful in her teens,” said Star knowingly.
“She’s a handful now!” Maggie countered.
“Maybe she needs a couple of aunties to help keep her on the straight and narrow,” said Simone.
“Know where I can find any?” Maggie asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Simone, are you suggesting that I’d be a good influence on our niece?” Star was incredulous.
“A girl needs all the strong women she can get standing behind her.” She winked at her.
“Amen to that,” Maggie agreed.
The winter sun was setting, and within a very few minutes darkness would drop over the land like theater drapes. A freezing wind whistled along the high street, making the Christmas trees sway and the fairy lights dance in the gloaming. They picked up their pace and for the first time in years, Simone felt as though she might have her sisters back.
23
Back at the flat, Maggie crawled into the roof space and—ignoring the bags of Christmas presents she had yet to find time to wrap—began passing the boxes of decorations back to her sisters. They in turn handed them to Verity, who was waiting impatiently in the sitting room, scissors poised to slice open the tape and reveal the festive treasures within.
Joe, Duncan, and Patrick extracted an enormous Norwegian spruce from the bucket of water in the garden and wrestled it up the stairs. Maggie heard them laughing （comradery born from trying to negotiate a seven-foot tree up the narrow staircase） and hoped that maybe the Christmas spirit would soften Patrick’s prickliness toward Joe. She knew it came from a place of love, but surely anyone could see that Joe was a wonderful human . . .
While she busied herself, pulling out bags of frozen biscuits and laying them out on baking trays, Duncan came out to join her.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, you’re all right. Have a little relax; you’re always working.”
“So are you,” Duncan replied, and Maggie smiled at him.
“I guess we have that in common,” she said.
“What’s this?” he asked, leaning over the kitchen table, where several oddly shaped pieces of paper lay scattered over a considerable amount of crushed velour fabric in a striking shade of peach. He picked up a reel of hoop wire and studied it.
She let out a groan. “Verity’s been cast as a pomegranate in the school play, and I’m supposed to be making her costume, but honestly I can’t make head nor tail of it. Sewing is not my strong suit.”
Duncan picked up the pattern instructions and began to leaf through the cut-out pieces of paper.
“Have you got a sewing machine?”
“My mum had one, it’s in the attic, but I don’t know how to use it. I was planning on cobbling it together with a mix of hand sewing and hemming tape.”
Duncan pulled a doubtful expression.
“Please tell me if I’m overstepping the mark, but this looks pretty straightforward to me. I could have this knocked out in an hour or so if I could use your mum’s sewing machine. Unless you want to make it?”
“Are you serious?”
Duncan appeared diffident. “I like sewing, knitting, anything crafty really. It wouldn’t be any bother. I’m better at sewing than I am tree decorating.” He smiled self-effacingly.
“You, my friend, are absolutely heaven-sent.” Maggie slid the trays into the oven and set the timer for twelve minutes. “And you have earned extra freezer biscuits.”
She crawled back into the roof space and dusted off the cover of her mother’s old machine. When she returned to the kitchen, Duncan had cleared a space on the table and she dumped the heavy machine on it.
“There,” she said, pulling off the case top. “Can you work with that?”