Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

‘Let's go Christmas tree shopping.'

‘Ivy, Christmas is in two days,' Quinn said. ‘You haven't got a Christmas tree?'

‘Oh, it's not for me. My house has been decorated since November.'

‘Then who is it for?'

‘Hermione.'

He felt a kick in his stomach. Last night, a bottle of wine down and on his second Christmas romcom, his vibrator lying just inches away, he'd wondered if he should call off his deal with Hermione, even though the ink on the contract wasn't even dry. If you could call a digital signature ink, that is. The idea of writing for Noah's mum, hearing her story, and hearing stories of him made him feel odd, like he was nostalgic for something he never had.

The only thing that had convinced him to stay was watching Hermione's last Christmas film, and seeing how talented, charismatic, and engaging she was on screen. Of course, he watched that when the vibrator was tucked away. Thank you very much.

Feeling nothing but a flame of hope, he watched a version of Hermione that he didn't recognise. She delivered her lines like they were the most important thing on earth. She made Quinn believe that if she lost her tinsel factory, they would cancel Christmas around the world. Drunk, he cried about Hermione's life. But that gave him a new zest; a determination. If he could play a role in getting Hermione back into the public perception, he would do it. That tinsel factory was not closing down!

‘But she has Christmas trees.' Quinn tried not to recall his time at Hermione's home with Noah.

‘She does, but she wants one for the upstairs landing.'

The place where Noah showed him her awards.

‘Oh. I see.'

‘So, there's a Christmas tree farm nearby. I called ahead and they still have space.'

‘But what about the shop?'

‘It'll only take an hour,' Ivy said. ‘Daniel's got it covered.'

‘Ivy…'

‘Come on, Quinn,' she pleaded, her gloved hands finding his. ‘You need some fun!' Ivy turned wide, pleading eyes on him, blinking theatrically.

He sighed, resigned to the adorable expression on her face. ‘Fine.'

‘Yay!' Ivy beamed. ‘I'll be waiting out front!'

She left him at the shop, where customers were yet to arrive. He wondered if they were boycotting him because of his failed signing. He refreshed his email for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, but still hadn't got a reply from Noah.

Not that he expected one.

His resolve to not think of Noah was not going well.

He found Ivy in her climate-polluting jeep. He hopped into the passenger side and sunk into the worn leather seat. She set off through Hay, a Christmas compilation album playing Ariana Grande's ‘Santa Baby' through the speakers.

The Christmas tree farm was in the Brecon Beacons in a farmhouse nestled into the mountain. A hazy fog hung over the crevices of the landscape, like nature had exhaled its chilled breath. As they approached, Quinn was mesmerised by the smoke billowing from the chimney and the snow gathered on the thatched roof.

A man in a plaid coat and with wiry facial hair greeted them, his sleeves rolled up despite the cold to reveal thick hairy arms. He showed them where to park and waited a few feet away as they got out, a smile on his face like a younger Santa.

‘Jerry, hi! This is my friend, Quinn. The one I told you about.'

Something registered for Jerry. His quizzical observation of Quinn soon turned to intrigue, and he extended his hand with raised, bushy eyebrows.

‘Hey, Quinn.' Jerry shook his hand vigorously. ‘Pleasure to meet you.'

Quinn didn't know what to say. Already disconcerted with the events the day had thrown at him, he couldn't help feeling like he wasn't in on a joke.

‘Jerry is a client of mine,' Ivy explained. ‘And he's Noah's uncle.'

Quinn's hand was still clasped in Jerry's, but now he wanted to break away and run. He threw Ivy a look of horror, which she smiled at. When Jerry let go, Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered from the cold.

‘Pleasure to meet you, too,' Quinn stuttered.

Jerry gestured for them to follow him, and with his back turned, Quinn looked to Ivy, his eyes wide.

‘What are you doing?' he mouthed.

‘I have a plan,' Ivy mimed.

Jerry opened a wooden gate, dusted in snow, and let them walk through. As Quinn spotted Jerry's black boots, he realised his own worn shoes were not snow friendly at all. They rounded the corner of the house, where icicles hung from the thatched roof, and saw that the back garden – if acres of land could be called a back garden – had transformed into a winter wonderland.

The snow here was neat and untouched, despite the signs of life and business activity. Pine trees stood tall and proud, but Quinn could see how many had been sold thanks to the stumps and the spaces between trees.

‘Bit late in the year, so we only have these left,' Jerry said, taking them into the land and through the trees. ‘Who is it for?'

‘Hermione,' Ivy replied.

‘Ah.'

‘Your sister?' Quinn asked, knowing Jerry couldn't be related to Noah's father.

‘That's right. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit the talents for the screen like she did.'

It was hard to tell if they looked alike at all, but as Quinn was trying to work it out, he noticed Jerry had Noah's nose, and the same eyes, and his hair was even…

Stop it.

Why did Ivy bring him here, with Jerry, of all places? Was there not another Christmas tree farm somewhere else? Maybe they should have crossed the border to England instead, where the world expanded and everyone didn't know one another.

They observed the last remaining trees, with Ivy and Jerry commenting on the firmness, the curvature, or the length. As Jerry spoke about the girth, Quinn wondered if they were still talking about trees. When Ivy finally picked one out, he was relieved, hoping they could leave the farm and never see Jerry again.

As he looked around at the other shoppers – couples holding hands, old partners – he experienced a pang in his chest, his stomach heavy as lead. He realised he'd never felt so alone during Christmas. All he wanted was to have someone by his side, especially at this time of year, when so much was changing. This was a time for family and loved ones, happiness and joy. Quinn had none of that.

‘Do you like Christmas?' Jerry asked Quinn. He realised, with terror, that Ivy had flitted away to do who knew what, leaving Quinn with Uncle Jerry.

‘Yeah, it's my favourite time of the year,' Quinn said honestly.

‘Is it?'

‘Not yours?'

‘I prefer autumn, myself,' Jerry said. ‘The transforming of the leaves. We do pumpkin picking here too, and it's very busy.'

Quinn imagined the landscape in bursts of red and orange, and admitted that the view would be spectacular. ‘Christmas is surely busier?'

‘It has been. Past two years have picked up. I think because people are more environmentally conscious these days and want real trees instead of plastic.'

‘So, they cut down actual trees. Makes sense.'

Jerry laughed, and for god's sake, he had Noah's smile. Was he only his uncle? Not, say, his long-lost older brother?

And a hot one at that.

Stop it.

‘Whatever action you do has consequences,' Jerry said.

‘Deep.'

I like going deep.

Noah.

Stop it.

‘I hear your shop is facing closure. Read it in the paper.' Jerry seemed to want to fill the silence. He crossed his arms, looking at Quinn like he could read him.

Quinn thought he needed to match the stance, so he leaned against the tree and almost slipped off and faceplanted in the bark. He righted himself by simply standing with his hands in his pockets. You couldn't go wrong like that. Unless someone ran up behind you and pushed you. Then you'd faceplant into the floor.

‘We're trying our best.'

‘They tried to take this from me once.' Jerry surveyed his land. ‘Developers. A few years ago. Said this was prime land for development.'

Quinn observed the sweeping mountains, the snow hugging boulders, the bare trees dripping crystal droplets. How could anyone think new build houses fit in well with this landscape?

‘What got you out of it?'

‘Because it's the national park,' Jerry said. ‘I proved we were in the park, and development would be a lot more complicated than throwing money at me to leave. So, the developers backed off. Your building is listed, is it not? You can go back to them with that?'

‘Unfortunately, no.' Quinn sighed. ‘I don't own it. Harold does. I rent it from him. Unfortunately, he's given me all the notice he needs for me to vacate. I'm in the wrong for staying as long as I have. I'm lucky he's not trying to take me to court.'

Jerry grimaced. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be. It's not over yet.'

‘Good attitude,' Jerry said. ‘Shame we can't say the same about my nephew.'

It was as if someone had broken off the icicles from Jerry's roof and plunged them into Quinn's heart. He tried to brush it off with a pained smile, hoping no more would be said.

There was only so much two men could say about Christmas trees, especially when it was being bought for someone that wasn't here. Quinn's gaze kept wandering towards the house, praying that Ivy would appear and take him away. Jerry whistled a tuneless melody, occasionally meeting Quinn's eye and offering a brief smile.

It was then that Quinn remembered what Ivy had said.

‘Ivy's told you about me?'

Jerry's whistling stopped, and he avoided Quinn's eye. ‘That's right.'

‘What exactly has she said?'

A funny twisting of his stomach made him wish he was a white hare that could blend in with his surroundings and disappear quietly.

Jerry cleared his throat. ‘Well, you know, it's none of my business…'

‘I know Ivy and I know when she's up to something,' Quinn said. ‘This is about Noah and me, isn't it?'

Jerry finally looked at Quinn again, and if he squinted, it could almost be like looking at Noah, but only if he really focussed on the eyes.

‘She told me you might need some advice.'

‘And that advice should come from his uncle?'

Jerry laughed, giving Quinn a mutual look of understanding. ‘It's probably not my place to say…'

‘Go ahead.'

‘I don't want to interfere.'

‘Interfere.'

Jerry considered this. ‘Ivy cares for you, and she told me that Noah had been … with you, and then…'

‘He left.'

A whisper of wind went by, a tune similar to the one Jerry whistled.

‘Look, I could play it cool, but what's the point in doing that?' Quinn questioned. ‘Your nephew is a mystery to me. A grumpy sod who has snatched my heart, and I can try all I want to act like I don't care, or that him leaving is for the best, but it would be futile. Ivy can see it clearly, and I'm sure you can, too. He's on my mind all day every day and if there's anything, anything at all that you can help me with so that I can make sense of him, of why he's acted the way he has…'

He ran out of steam. There were no other words that could convey the agonising feelings inside him of marred confusion and doubts.

‘He came here, you know, before he left.'

Quinn tried to imagine Noah here. How the white landscape, with a rugged winter charm, so wild and beautiful, would contrast with his own wild hair, his city boy high-end fashion, and his charming smile. Quinn was like a fan standing on the same spot a celebrity once visited, trying to imagine the person in front of them, feeling like he was a part of something. This was his Strawberry Fields.

‘He did?' It was a feeble response, but Quinn couldn't hide it anymore. He cared, and Jerry knew it.

‘He did. I hadn't seen him since … well, a few years now. He never visits. So, when he turned up, I was a little shocked.'

‘Why did he visit?' Quinn asked.

Jerry shrugged, sighing, a puff of white breath trailing before him. ‘When I opened the front door, it took me a little while to recognise him. I follow him on the socials, of course, but in person he looked different. He looked upset.'

‘Upset?'

The icicle in his chest melted, sending freezing water through his veins.

‘Said he shouldn't have come back to Hay,' Jerry said. ‘I invited him in for tea. He came in, but he didn't want to stay long. He was with someone.'

‘Matty.'

So, there it was. Noah went straight back to Matty and left with him. Which implied what? That they were back together?

‘Is that his name?' Jerry asked. ‘I didn't get the chance to ask.'

‘Why not?'

‘He wouldn't leave the car.'

Rude.

‘I made Noah tea. He said how my house hadn't changed from when he was last here years ago.' Jerry said this with a smile, no doubt remembering a past when Noah was around. Quinn conjured up his own image of what Noah's childhood was like; how he might have been. ‘I asked him why he came by and he said he wanted to say goodbye.'

‘Oh gosh. That sounds…'

‘Oh, no, not dramatically,' Jerry reassured Quinn. ‘Just a melodramatic way. Said he would never set foot in Hay again. I laughed at that, which seemed to annoy him. This is Brecon, not Hay. Guess he didn't want to step foot anywhere near it.'

‘Why would he come back here? Why would he want to see you?' And why would Ivy bring him here right now, when he was trying so desperately to forget Noah.

Jerry looked back towards the house. ‘You see that window up there to the left, with the light on?'

Quinn did. The thatched roof nestled the window, the yellow glow offering a cosy glimpse into a room.

‘It was there that Noah came out to me when he was sixteen.'

Quinn gasped. Surely that moment alone qualified this house for one of those commemorative blue plaques.

‘Wow.'

‘He did that, and two days later, he left for London. That was the last time I saw him. He came out to me long before he came out to his mother, or in fact, anyone. I think he went to London pretending he was still straight.' Jerry laughed at this, but not with cruelty. ‘When Noah was growing up, we had a good relationship, and I think he felt like he could trust me because…' Jerry paused. ‘Well, because he knew about my own struggles.'

Quinn didn't want to pry, but he wanted to know. He let the silence drift between them, thinking of asking so many things, wanting to know more about the Sage men, about that moment, and about Noah's life in London.

‘We were there for each other,' Jerry said. ‘I could tell when I saw him all those years ago that he needed someone to listen to him. He told me he couldn't stay in Hay, told me what he knew he was, and then when he left, it left me devastated. I felt like I wasn't enough for him or had let him down. We drifted apart, because I think to him, people like myself, like Hermione, were bad memories.'

It hurt Quinn to hear it. He knew those feelings, the ones that made you feel you didn't belong, or like you were wrong. It was why he had opened his shop: for people feeling the same way.

‘When he was here the other night, it was like nothing had changed. He told me he wanted to see me again. Said sorry that it took so long. Gave me his number so we could keep in touch. And then he told me he'd made a mistake. He told me Hay only made him realise how much he couldn't have something. He told me he feared what he was feeling. So, he needed to go, run away from it like he did all those years ago.'

Quinn understood Noah's desire to leave. Something within him, something both childlike and primal, had forced Noah into survival mode. All those years ago, closeted and ashamed of his mother, he ran from it instead of dealing with it. Now, with what happened between them, the feelings that Quinn now knew were unmistaken and undeniable, allowed the fear to creep back in. Quinn almost pitied him, but he couldn't sympathise. Both of them were nearing their thirties. You didn't run away at this age. You dealt with problems.

‘He didn't drink his tea,' Jerry said, as if this mattered. ‘He told me he was sorry. Then he left. Said he needed to speak to the boy in the car.'

‘Matty.'

‘Matty. I watched them go. Neither of them looked happy.'

Quinn tried not to feel the flicker of hope that swelled in him at the mention of trouble between Noah and Matty. It didn't matter even if there was. Noah had vowed never to come back to Hay. That meant never coming back to Quinn.

Standing at the tree, which remained tall and proud, realisation dawned on Quinn.

‘There's no tree for Hermione, is there?'

Jerry looked like Quinn caught him stealing one of Santa's cookies. ‘I'm afraid not. Ivy just wanted to get you here to talk to me about Noah.'

‘How did she know he'd been here?'

‘She didn't until I called.'

Quinn laughed. ‘Lucky for her. Where is she?'

‘Oh, inside cleaning,' Jerry said. ‘Two birds and all that.'