A Cornish Carol: A Short Story. Fern Britton

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      ‘Darling!’ Helen dashed out of Gull’s Cry and threw her arms around her daughter-in-law Terri as she headed up the path to the cottage door. Sean, Helen’s son, was behind her, carrying their daughter, Summer, in her car seat.

      Summer’s chubby face split into the sunniest of smiles as she saw Helen. ‘Gan Gan!’ she cried joyfully and reached out her little hands for a cuddle.

      ‘I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!’ Helen exclaimed. ‘And is that a new tooth I can see?’

      ‘Yes, and it’s unbelievable the trouble that one tiny tooth has caused,’ said Sean as they headed indoors.

      He placed the car seat on the floor and started to undo the clasp that held Summer safely in place. The moment her granddaughter was free, Helen swept her up and showered her with kisses, which were returned enthusiastically.

      This done, and after more hugs and kisses all round, they made their way into Helen’s cosy sitting room, where Sean and Terri sank into the comfy armchairs with relief. The tell-tale signs of disturbed nights and fraught days were all too obvious to Helen as she took in the dark circles under their eyes.

      ‘Teething can be a rotten old business for everyone,’ she concurred, gently stroking Summer’s flushed cheeks. ‘Well, the good news is that Granny is here to take some of the strain. This Christmas, the only things you’ll need to worry about are eating, drinking and making merry. We’ve got Piran on chef duty – he’s a much better cook than me and he can’t bear having me in the kitchen with him, which means I’ll have more time to spend on you three.’

      ‘You have no idea how good that sounds,’ said Terri, gratefully. ‘The cottage looks amazing by the way.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Helen preened.

      Interior design was a passion of hers and she had lovingly devoted the last few days to making sure that her cottage really looked the part this year. The windows and doorway were wreathed in branches of fir adorned with twinkling lights, while giant candles flickered in storm lanterns on the window ledges. The banisters and mantelpiece were decorated with more fir branches and holly, and there were beautiful handcrafted wicker reindeer dotted around the room. Taking centre stage, the tree by the fireplace was utterly gorgeous; decorated sparingly with hand-painted sea-glass decorations that twinkled and cast dancing reflections of the crackling fire in the stove. The combination of fairy lights and candles gave the room a warm ambient glow, and the aroma of pine mingled with oranges and cloves, scented the air.

      ‘It’s absolutely heavenly,’ sighed Terri, sinking deep into the armchair.

      Tempting as it was to lean back and enjoy the chance to relax, Sean forced himself to his feet. ‘I’ll just grab the last of the bags and then I’ll be ready for one of your legendary winter warmers, Mum.’

      ‘I’ve added a dash of sloe gin to the mulled wine this year and I’ve got some mince pies warming in the oven – not home-made, I’m afraid, but they are from the new artisan bakery in Trevay and they’re scrummy.’

      ‘Amazing.’ Sean gave his Mum a peck on the cheek and set off to get the rest of their luggage.

      ‘You’re all in the big bedroom!’ she shouted after him.

      ‘But that’s your bedroom,’ Terri protested.

      ‘It’s got more space and Piran and I will be quite happy in the little one, it’ll be very cosy.’

      ‘How is Piran?’

      ‘Oh, you know.’ Helen smiled ruefully, thinking about her grumpy, difficult, enigmatic, yet oh-so-magnetic boyfriend. They had chosen not to live together, both valuing their independence. He could be infuriating and unreadable but at the same time generous, exciting and sometimes completely magnificent. Lately, however … Helen couldn’t put her finger on it, but he’d been far more withdrawn and brooding than usual. Probably the full moon, she told herself. Nothing to worry about – yet …

      Helen checked her watch. It was gone five o’clock.

      ‘Hope you both fancy a good laugh tonight. We’ve got tickets for the local am-dram panto - they’re doing Aladdin.’

      Sean struggled in with the luggage. ‘Oh, great. All wobbly sets and fluffed lines as usual?’

      Helen laughed. ‘Guaranteed! I wouldn’t