Warning: Episode may contain strong language, violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

PREVIOUSLY ON GLENDALE…

• Carol handed over the keys to The Oak & Vine’s new owners, Johnny and Tess.
• Queenie was finally reunited with the daughter she was forced to give up for adoption over seventy years ago.
• After Nick told her he never wanted to speak to her again, Julia gave him two Christmas presents in a final attempt to mend their rift.
• Noah asked Father Christmas to make the Spencer family happy again and make Kate smile.
• Brian’s abusive behaviour toward Pamela increased.
• Charlotte revealed to Julia that she was pregnant by a married man.
• Hilda grew suspicious of Tilly and the vicar, confiding in Queenie that she believed they were having an affair and vowing to eat her own shoes if something wasn’t going on between them.
• Jack admitted to Queenie that he had feelings for Reverend Turner.
• Samantha suspected her husband, Lewis, was having an affair with her half-sister, Jasmine.
• Ben told Audrey he planned to propose to Emma, and she gave him her family heirloom engagement ring to use.

AND NOW, THE STORY CONTINUES…

WARNING: This episode contains violent and sensitive material that readers may find distressing.
Reader discretion is advised.

It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.
W.T. Ellis

Christmas Eve 2025

Glendale,
Kent, England

Christmas Eve had dawned over Glendale, and while snow hadn’t yet fallen, there was a feeling in the air that it wasn’t far off. You could feel it in your bones, that aching cold that something was imminent.

-:-

Bundled up in her thick woollen coat, hat and scarf, Queenie Baxter fought momentarily with the stiff lock of The Store. Her back complained, her arthritic fingers struggled with the keys, and her cheeks hurt from the cold, but she didn’t care – not today. It was Christmas Eve, and that meant only one thing – Gail was coming to Glendale. She jiggled the key in the lock, muttered unmentionables under her breath, and gave the forest green door a good kicking with her black leather block heel loafers until the latch finally gave up with its usual clunk and the door opened with its usual groan. She nodded, pleased with her efforts, and headed inside out of the cold.

Today was going to be an amazing day.

-:-

Across the village green, inside Acorn Cottage, Carol Kennedy sat alone at the kitchen table, holding a now cold mug of tea in her hands. Her gaze was fixed on the window, and she watched as a small, red-breasted robin sat on a bare branch of a hazel tree. It trilled and chirped, all the while constantly surveying its surroundings, and for a brief time it seemed to stop as it noticed her. They sat there, silent and alone, studying one another in a moment of peace and beauty, of wonder and understanding, of contemplation and loneliness. Then, the robin chirped and flew off, and Carol returned to her silent existence, while “Stay Another Day” played on the radio.

Baby if you’ve got to go away
Don’t think I could take the pain
Won’t you stay another day?
Oh don’t leave me alone like this
Don’t you say it’s the final kiss
Won’t you stay another day?

-:-

Over at Glenbrook Farm, on the far edge of the village, Pamela Granger sat at her dressing table, looking at her reflection as she dabbed concealer gently onto the dark mark on her cheekbone. A fresh bruise. Another one. Inflicted upon her by Brian. She wasn’t sure why, or what she had done to deserve this one, but she did know it needed to be hidden from the world – just like all the others he had given her. She blended the makeup, as if it were just part of her daily routine to try and make a bruise disappear, then practised a rictus smile. The bruise was mostly hidden now. Mostly.

-:-

Downstairs at the kitchen table, Ben Granger downed the last of his builder’s tea in one gulp and then looked at the small velvet box sitting in front of him. Inside, nestled in a cream satin cushion, was his grandmother’s engagement ring – a delicate gold band set with a large emerald surrounded by twelve modest yet dazzling diamonds.

Placing his empty mug down, he reached out and removed the ring from its newly purchased box – thanks, Temu! – and brushed his thumb across the surface. He could already imagine Emma’s face when she saw it.

Pamela’s footsteps creaked above, and Ben snapped the box shut before stuffing it into his pocket.

Today was the day.

-:-

At Glendale Hall, Nick Harrington-Jones lay naked under the duvet with his left arm tucked behind his head, exhausted from an early morning romp with Natalie, and listening to the water running in the en suite as she showered.

He turned his head and looked at the two untouched gifts from Julia sitting on his bedside table, wrapped in gold paper and tied with perfectly perfect red ribbons. He hadn’t been able to open them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

-:-

At Greystone Downs, Kate Spencer stood silently in the living room of the old farmhouse, hands cupped around a steaming mug of coffee, looking at the Christmas tree that blinked with multi-coloured lights. The unevenly placed decorations irritated her, but the kids had decorated the tree, so she had to pretend she liked it. Then her eyes settled on the newest ornament – a small metal heart, hanging front and centre from a red ribbon, with a tiny photograph of Tom in the middle, smiling back at her in a way that broke her. She missed that smile. She missed him.

-:-

And so, the village woke.

Queenie propped open the door and turned on the lights, ready for another day of trade.

Carol sat at the kitchen table alone with her thoughts.

Pamela paused at the bottom of the stairs, tugging down the sleeves of her cardigan to hide her bruises.

Ben rehearsed his proposal over and over in his head.

Nick stared at the wrapped presents once more as the bathroom door opened.

Kate reached out and brushed her fingers gently against the picture in the centre of the ornament.

And high above them all, the sky waited, poised on the edge of snow.

The Oak & Vine,
Glendale

By ten o’clock, the Oak & Vine smelt of furniture polish, fresh lemon, and something faintly chemical yet minty that only Hilda Hollingsworth knew the origins of.

She plonked her cleaning caddy down onto the freshly wiped bar with a theatrical grunt of exhaustion before pulling off her Marigolds.

“There!” she announced, hands on hips. “The place is now cleaner than a brothel on openin’ day.”

The new landlord, Johnny Montgomery, leaned an elbow casually on the bar and grinned in a way that made his eyes sparkle and Hilda’s heart melt. “I’ve never actually been to a brothel on opening day, Hilda,” he said in his native Nottinghamshire accent, “so I’ll take your word for it.”

Hilda’s cheeks burnt scarlet red.

Beside him, Tess tried – and failed – to hide her smile as she wiped some freshly washed glasses, listening on with interest.

Hilda cleared her throat in a way that suggested serious business was afoot. “Right. Now you two have taken over the place, we need to chat about me terms and conditioners.”

Johnny jokingly stood tall and crossed his arms, ready for battle. “Absolutely, Hilda. Lay it on us.”

“First,” she raised a finger, “Ya match me current agreements. Ya pay me in cash so’s the government don’t know – ya can’t trust that Rachel Whats-her-face. Takin’ the winter fuel allowance away from the oldies! Me mate Betty would freeze to death if she didn’t have all those fat rolls under that coat of hers! And then, bangin’ on about growth and the economy and whatnot, all while she’s bleedin’ us dry and makin’ us bend over to take it for the good of the country. I mean, ya can’t trust a woman that sits in parliament blubberin’ like she’s just dropped a digestive in her tea, can ya?”

Johnny and Tess glanced at each other, bewildered by the nasally rapid fire that pelted them like bullets.

“Secondly, I get a large Harvey’s Bristol Cream each time I do the lavvies,” Hilda continued, barely pausing for breath. “One for the fellas and one for the fillies. So that’s two in the mornin’ and two in the evenin’ if ya have me pop in. Are ya takin’ all this down? Are ya followin’ along?”

Johnny and Tess nodded, both chewing on their cheeks to stop themselves from laughing.

Hilda cocked an eyebrow. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Johnny replied with a smirk.

Hilda nodded, pleased with herself. “Nextly, I get first pick of all the leftovers, ‘specially the sausage rolls and puddin’s. What with this cost of livin’ crisis, every little bit helps, y’know, and we’ve gotta be cuttin’ down on food wastage. That Jamie Whats-his-face said so on Channel Four – not that I usually watch Channel Four, mind you. Full of mucky bits and dangly things half the time, but I do like that Gogglepox show and me absolute favourite – Bake Off. Better when it was on the BBC, mind you, and I can’t stand that Noel fella, but Alison is nice – she’s very good on This Mornin’ too with that dishy Dermot – and I do love me a bit of Paul.”

“Keen to try his baguette?” Johnny teased.

“Oh, yes!” Hilda nodded, completely oblivious and throwing a confused look Tess’s way when she sniggered. “I had his buns once in Waitrose. Oh, divine they were! Firm and plump and nice to squeeze. Could bounce a penny off them, they were that tight!”

Tess couldn’t listen to anymore and had to turn away.

Johnny bit down hard on his lip and reached under the bar, squeezing his wife playfully in a way that made her jump and squeal.

Hilda eyed them suspiciously. You certainly wouldn’t get these shenanigans when Tony and Carol were behind the bar.

“So,” Johnny began, putting on his serious face and pushing down the chuckle that was desperate to get out. “Paid in cash, sherries for the lavvies, and scabbing the stale old food. Anything else, Hilda?”

“Me own stool at the bar and a reserved spot in the booth near the fire in winter.”

“And should said stool have a velvet cushion?”

Hilda pondered Johnny’s suggestion before nodding in agreement. “Naturally.”

“Done.”

“And any time there’s a new ale or lager, our Arthur gets to try it, free of charge, like.”

“Okay.”

“And I will need somewhere secure to store me cleanin’ bits and bobs. Carol and Tony wanted me to put them near the cellar door, but I weren’t havin’ it and have to cart this thing around with me every day,” she said, patting the cleaning caddy. “Very dangerous spot, that was. Nearly lost a whole bottle of bleach down there back in May.”

“That would’ve been a tragedy,” Johnny said, trying to sound serious despite his smile.

Hilda leaned forward conspiratorially. “Bleach is very expensive, Jonathan.”

“Please, call me Johnny.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “Oh, well, if you insist.”

Tess glanced back and rolled her eyes.

“And finally,” Hilda announced, getting to the end of her “conditioners”, “I want a pay rise.”

Johnny inhaled. “Right. And how much were you thinking?”

“An extra pound an hour,” Hilda declared. “On account of inflation and for the trauma of cleanin’ the men’s lavvies twice a day. Compostation for me sensitive gag reflex, you see.” She looked at Tess with a serious expression. “Can’t be dealin’ with the bits and bobs that people deposit in the porcelain, you see, Jess.”

“Tess,” she corrected.

Hilda continued on, not noticing. “Couldn’t even with me own littlies.” She feigned an Oscar-worthy retch. “It’s just not natural, Jess.”

Johnny put a hand to his chest. “Hilda, after what I’ve seen in men’s toilets over the last forty-six years, I think you deserve hazard pay, not just a raise.”

“Oh, I like this one,” Hilda said, gesturing toward Tess. “Got yerself a charmer ‘ere.”

“He came like that straight out the box,” Tess joked.

Hilda giggled, charmed by Johnny’s dimpled smile and cheeky eyes. “Well, keep him away from Tilly Wainwright! Morals as loose and as low as her knickers, that one. Although, she’ll probably wear none when she claps her eyes on this one!”

“Hilda!” Tess gasped before breaking into a chuckle.

Hilda laughed with her usual shrill squawk and slapped a hand against the bar in amusement. “Oh, and I almost forgot. I’m always off on Christmas Day.”

Johnny’s dazzling smile gave way to a serious frown. “Off? As in off off? As in… no spotless pub on one of the busiest days of the year?”

“Yer’ll cope,” Hilda said, patting his hand. “I have traditions. Arthur and me have a brandy and a mince pie for breakfast, so as I’m not too tiddly to do the lunch at noon, and then we watch the Queen’s Speech—”

“King’s,” Tess corrected gently.

Hilda frowned in her direction. Three years on and she still wasn’t used to it. “And that’s when Arthur and me have me famous sherry trifle.”

“Fine,” Johnny agreed, with a deep exhale. “But you’ll be on call all New Year’s Eve. No ifs, ands or buts. Those toilets need to be sparkling all night long.”

Hilda mulled over his proposal.

“So,” he said, extending his hand, “do we have a deal?”

“Deal!” Hilda shook it firmly, then sighed dreamily. “Ya know, Johnny, I must say – yer not half bad to look at either. Another perk of the job!”

Tess snorted, and Johnny straightened, smoothing his dark hair and running a hand along his stubbled jawline. “It’s a curse, really.”

With that, Hilda hoisted her caddy off the bar, checked her hairnet and curlers in the mirror behind the bar, and marched toward the door. “See ya Boxin’ Day,” she called back over her shoulder. “And a Merry Christmas to ya all!””

Greenview Cottage,
Glendale

The kitchen of Greenview Cottage was alive with the chaos of Christmas preparations. Work had already started on tomorrow’s feast, and the weird concoction of smells was confusing yet somehow made your mouth water. Garlic mixed with cinnamon, onion mixed with nutmeg, and the smell of the glazed ham roasting in the oven mingled with the smell of Marion Atkins’s freshly baked gingerbread men. It was weird. It was wonderful. It was delicious.

Samantha Carter sat at the kitchen table, wrapping the last of the Christmas gifts, while a few feet away, Jasmine Atkins was rolling stuffing into neat little balls.

“Are you weighing them?” Samantha asked, noticing as her half-sister checked the weight on a set of digital scales. “Please tell me you’re not weighing them.”

Jasmine didn’t look up. “I like consistency.”

“You’re so weird.” Samantha stuck down a piece of tape before folding another part of the paper and sticking that down also.

That got Jasmine’s attention. “At least I’m making something!”

Samantha’s eyes bulged, and she stiffened, affronted at the accusation she was slacking. “I’m wrapping!”

“If that’s what you call it.”

Marion, elbow-deep inside the turkey, let out a weary-sounding sigh. “Girls…”

Samantha wasn’t going to back down. She snapped another length of tape from the roll and then mumbled under her breath, just loud enough so Jasmine could hear, “Don’t get all snippy with me because you didn’t get that job in Sydney.”

The rejection was still fresh, and Samantha’s snide comment was like rubbing salt in the wound. “What did you say?”

Samantha shrugged. “Nothing.”

Jasmine held up a perfectly formed stuffing ball. “Don’t make me throw this.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Jasmine arched a brow. “Try me.”

Marion didn’t even look up. “If either of you throws any food…!” She didn’t need to finish the sentence, for the threat was clear.

The half-siblings exchanged a look before Samantha returned her attention to wrapping. “So, a funny thing happened the other day.”

Jasmine and Marion briefly glanced in her direction while continuing their preparations.

“I accidentally found the Christmas gift Lewis has been hiding from me.”

Jasmine frowned ever so slightly, and Marion returned her attention to the turkey.

“How do you accidentally find a hidden gift?” Jasmine asked, rolling another stuffing ball before placing it on the scales. Perfect. “Surely the clue’s in the title?”

“I was looking in his gym bag and—”

“You shouldn’t have been snooping,” Marion interrupted. “Gifts are meant to be a surprise.”

Samantha caught the moment – a flicker in Marion’s posture, Marion’s brief glance toward Jasmine, Jasmine’s brief stiffening – and her stomach clenched. A weird tension suddenly filled the room. It throbbed. She could feel it. Surely, the others could too. Something was off. The weird, uncomfortable energy that she’d picked up on a few times was back. She didn’t want to think it, and she definitely didn’t want to say it, but she couldn’t stop feeling it – something was up between Jasmine and Lewis.

“Anyway,” she said, keeping her tone light while keeping one eye firmly on Jasmine, “it’s a beautiful necklace. Stunning, really. Very elegant. Very classy.”

Jasmine’s fingers paused in the breadcrumbs, and her lips curled, nauseated at her half-sister’s description. “So, everything you’re not.”

Samantha’s face soured, and she chose to ignore the jibe. That was all the proof she needed.

“Oh, just stop it, you two,” Marion said with another weary sigh, tired of the bickering, as she put the turkey in the fridge – ready to be cooked tomorrow – and walked across to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. “He’ll be heartbroken if he knows you snooped.”

Samantha waved away her stepmother’s concern. “I’ve been practising my reaction in the mirror. Not gonna lie, it’s BAFTA worthy.”

Jasmine smirked. “If you do say so yourself.”

Samantha threw a shady side-eye, now more convinced than ever that there was something going on between her husband and her sister.

“Well, just be careful,” Marion warned, wiping her hands dry on a red gingham tea towel. “A relationship built on untruths isn’t really a relationship at all, Sam. Trust me, I know.”

Thyme Cottage,
Glendale

Carrying two mugs of freshly brewed tea, Meera Sharma entered quietly into the living room of Thyme Cottage and made her way over to the sofa.

“Thought you could do with a brew,” she said, passing a mug to her brother-in-law, Ashwin Patel, before settling in on the other end.

He gave a grateful smile and took a sip. “How do you always know what I need before I do?”

“Superpowers,” she joked and smiled back. Her eyes lingered on him longer than necessary. “I just try to be useful.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as they both sipped on their teas, watching a repeat of Homes Under the Hammer on BBC Two. Since Neha’s imprisonment, Meera had been living at Thyme Cottage, nursing Ashwin back to health following his stroke after Neha attacked him. She had been the one constant in his life when everything else had fallen apart. She had dealt with his mood swings, helped with his rehab, attended every doctor’s appointment, and been a source of comfort and strength through the darkest days of recovery. She had also listened as he poured his heart out about his love for Neha and how, upon her release, he planned to start afresh with his wife and raise her eight-month-old son, Kiaan – born in prison after her one-night stand with James Harrington-Jones – as his own. Through it all, Meera had been by Ashwin’s side, and now she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“So…” Meera began softly, taking a sip of her tea and then looking to Ashwin. Her long black hair moved like silk as she planned to broach the subject they’d long ignored. “Neha’s really getting released in January?”

Ashwin nodded. “Yeah. First week after New Year’s she said. To be honest, I don’t know how to feel.” He looked down at his hands, and the atmosphere shifted. “Excited, I guess. But mostly nervous.”

“That’s understandable after everything that’s happened.” Meera watched him process his emotions. “Excited to have Kiaan home?”

Ashwin smiled at the thought of holding his son for the very first time. “Of course! Can you believe he’s eight months old already?”

Meera smiled, although she could see the sadness behind her brother-in-law’s eyes and wondered how he’d cope raising another man’s child as his own.

Ashwin continued. “I guess I’m just anxious about Neha. She’s… well, she’s Neha. You never know what to expect with her.”

“She hasn’t been drinking, so that’s a positive.”

Ashwin’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, but what happens when she’s out? What happens when she’s living two hundred metres away from a pub? What then?”

“She’s going to need you.”

Ashwin looked at her, their stare holding briefly before he looked away.

“She’ll need time,” Meera continued. “Village life will feel… strange at first. I know it did for me! But you’ll help her like you helped me. You’ll be amazing. You always are.”

Ashwin set his mug down on the coffee table and ran a hand over his face. “I hope so. I want to be excited about it. I really do. But part of me… well, I don’t know if I’m ready for her to be in the house again. Living under the same roof. After everything.”

Meera reached across and softly touched his hand, while her fingers lingered a moment too long. “Ash, you know I’ll always be here for you. Always have your back. Always be on your side. Neha may be my sister, but you’re the one who has my loyalty. Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere. You won’t be doing this alone.”

Ashwin appreciated the support more than he could say. “Thanks, that means a lot. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you this past year. You’ve kept things together while she’s been gone. You’ve kept me sane. You’ve made me happy again.”

Meera smiled a warm, tender smile, and Ashwin found himself drawn to it. They moved into a slightly awkward hug across the sofa, and for a moment, everything felt right. Her dark hair was soft against his cheek, his earthy cologne tantalised her senses, her touch reminded him of what he missed, and his heart beat heavily against hers.

Ashwin couldn’t describe the feeling. It was safe. It was comfortable. It was home.

Wrapped in Ashwin’s embrace and with her chin resting on his shoulder, Meera’s smile faded and her eyes became clouded by shadows. “Neha will never hurt you again,” she said with a dangerous tone which her brother-in-law failed to pick up on. “I promise you that.”

Village Green,
Glendale

Hilda emerged from The Oak & Vine when her beady eyes caught sight of something most unusual across the village green.

There, beside the phone box converted into a book exchange, was Reverend Turner once again laughing and chatting with Tilly Wainwright – for the second time in a week. Bold, unashamed and completely out in the open for all to see.

Hilda narrowed her eyes. They looked far too happy and intimate for her liking, which obviously meant only one thing – affair!

The vicar let out a deep, shoulder-shaking laugh, and then – horror of horrors – Tilly touched his arm.

Hilda gasped so sharply she choked on her own saliva.

Hearing the splutters, the apparently scandalous pair looked towards the pub, causing the panic-stricken cleaner to dive for cover behind a large half-wine barrel containing a small conifer tizzied up like a Christmas tree. The vicar shrugged and returned to the conversation, while Hilda kept watch like a caffeinated meerkat, popping her head up every few seconds and straining to hear what was being said.

Matthew said something and made a wide gesture with his arms. Tilly laughed and touched his arm again, this time with her whole hand – her whole hand! Hilda clutched the pearls she wasn’t wearing.

“Mary Berry, mother of God,” she whispered to herself in astonishment. The scandal of their obvious romance was too much to bear, but the sheer audacity was something else. Worse still, Tilly was wearing a pair of golden pineapple earrings, and everyone knew that they were code for something. Hilda didn’t quite know what exactly, but she had heard it once in an episode of Midsomer Murders – or was it Love Island? Not that she watched such drivel, of course; it just happened to be on one night – and that was good enough for her.

Peeking through the tiny branches, she strained to hear what was being said. They were too far away. All she caught was Tilly’s stupid giggle – the one that sounded like a cat on helium. She needed to get closer.

Utilising skills honed from decades of nosiness and three seasons with the Glendale Dramatic Society in the 1980s, Hilda crept along the edge of the village green, taking cover behind a bin, a bench, bushes, and at one point an extremely confused Madge Wilkinson. She crouched behind the war memorial and put on her sunglasses for maximum concealment – despite it being the height of winter.

Now she could hear snippets of what Tilly was saying. Something about Australia – any excuse to be in a bikini; a secret – she knew it; and a dance routine – trollop. They both roared with laughter again. Then Tilly – always as brazen as anything – reached out and touched the vicar’s hand. This time she held it. Held it!

Hilda nearly fainted on the spot.

She needed evidence. Proof. A photo, perhaps. She rummaged about in her cleaning caddy for her phone and pulled it out, desperate to get a snap of the scandalous couple. She raised the iPhone to take a stealthy photo and then realised the camera was facing the wrong way. It clicked and took a close-up of her furrowed brow. She muttered unmentionables under her breath and struggled to get the camera facing the right way.

“Fudge!”

Turning the phone around didn’t help, as she couldn’t see what she was doing.

“Shoot!”

The camera clicked again, capturing a blurry haze of what appeared to be a shrub… or grass… or was it Madge Wilkinson?

“Bleedin’ heck!”

Suddenly, there was a deep voice. “Hilda?”

She jumped, dropped her phone and the cleaning caddy, and let out a strangled yelp. It was Ed Atkins.

“What on earth are you doing?” He asked with an arched eyebrow.

Hilda scrambled upright, pulled the sunglasses from her face and straightened out her pinny. “Ed! Oh, just, um… badger! Thought I saw a badger.”

Ed frowned and looked around. There wasn’t an animal in sight.

“Must’ve ran under the memorial,” Hilda continued, patting the cold Portland stone monument. “Funny little buggers. Sneaky an’ all!”

In the distance, the vicar and Tilly parted with a friendly wave, and Hilda made a mental note.

“Will you be at film club on Boxing Day?” Ed asked, slightly confused, as Hilda swayed to and fro, trying to keep an eye on both the vicar and Tilly as they went in separate directions.

“Oh yes,” she replied, barely registering what he had said. “Never miss it, me. Never miss it.”

“We’ve got an absolute classic this month. An Affair to Remember.”

Hilda stopped and snapped her gaze onto Ed’s. “Oh, goodie,” she muttered sarcastically. “Just wonderful!”

The Oak & Vine,
Glendale

Johnny stood behind the bar, rubbing a hand across the polished oak as he looked around the pub that was now their home. “Look at her,” he said, trying – and failing – to hide the proud grin spreading across his face. “She’s beautiful. She’s perfect. She’s—”

“A pub, Johnny,” Tess interrupted, rolling her eyes at their 17-year-old twins, Hannah and Finn, as they finished placing beer mats on the last few tables, ready for opening. “It’s not giving birth of our fifth child.”

Johnny shot her a cheeky grin, the exact same one he had when they were 17 – when she had instantly fallen in love with him. “I’ve bonded with this pub. When I die, I want you to scatter my ashes behind the fruit machine.”

“Dad!” groaned Finn, shaking his head. “That’s grim.”

“And predictable,” Hannah agreed. “You said the same thing about The Queen’s Head.”

“And The Dog and Duck,” Tess added.

“And the King’s Arms.” Finn added to the list.

“All my children, but she’s my favourite.” Johnny kissed his fingers and tapped the bar lovingly.

Jude, their eldest, sat at the bar with a smirk. “If Mum does scatter ya ashes anywhere in here, it’ll be because she’s finally had enough of ya and bumped ya off.”

Tess raised her mug of tea in salute. “Cheers to that.”

At the next barstool, Johnny’s father, Ted – 86, sharp as a tack, and wearing the same woollen cardigan he always did day in day out – watched his family bicker and tease each other with a smile. “Ignore ‘em, son,” he said, giving Johnny a supportive nod. “As jealous as a Yorkshireman watching someone else get a two-for-one, this lot!”

Johnny chuckled and glanced at the brass clock above the door – the one he had had to fix at five o’clock in the morning because Tony hadn’t – and realised it was time. “Right then, missus,” he said with a deep exhale as he came out from behind the bar, wrapped an arm around Tess’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Shall we do this?”

Tess nodded and straightened the small chalkboard on the bar that read:

GRAND (RE)OPENING!
BE KIND, WE’RE NEW!

The whole family watched as Johnny walked across the pub and placed his hand on the doorknob with a dramatic flourish.

Finn rolled his eyes at the overdramatics of it all. “Dad, just open the bloody door. This ain’t a Netflix special.”

Johnny grinned. “But it could be. Meet the Montgomerys! Keeping Up with the Montgomerys! Montgomery Manor!”

Tess groaned. “Just open it, you twat!”

Johnny pulled the door open, and a rush of cold air spilt in.

Silence.

He looked to the left and then to the right. There was not a villager in sight. Johnny turned to look back at his family and just as his shoulders sagged…

“‘Bout time!” Arthur declared as he suddenly came stomping up Queen Victoria Street and bundled through the door with four of his mates. “Been freezin’ our bits off out there! Nearly lost one, I reckon!” He shook Johnny’s hand to introduce him and his crew and removed his navy flat cap. “Arthur Hollin’sworth. This is Two-Pint Terry – clues in the name; Nearly Norman – never finishes a sentence; Backdoor Barry – don’t ask; and Keith.”

“Just Keith?”

“Aye, just Keith.” Arthur looked at him with a serious expression. “He knows what he did.”

As the group of men made their way to the bar, Johnny and Tess shared a glance and a smile before she painted on her customary landlady grin and uttered the same line she’d said every day for the last twenty-two years. “Ay up, mi duck. What can I get ya?”

SEVEN HOURS LATER

The Store,
Glendale

Night had fallen and Queenie had been waiting to close the shop for twenty minutes. While the rest of the village were making their way to the church for the carols concert, she was stuck standing behind the counter with a young couple milling about, taking their sweet time as if it weren’t already past closing.

An agitated Queenie tapped her fingers on the counter, glancing at the clock. 6:20. She had been about to close when the young couple – clearly blow-ins from London or somewhere who had no respect for anyone else’s time – had come in without a word of hello and started perusing the aisles for nothing in particular. Her eyes moved to a small, wrapped box sitting on the countertop – a gift for Gail. It would be the first one she had ever given her, and Queenie was getting impatient. She wanted to see the smile on her daughter’s face, the sparkle in her eyes, and the joy in her heart. Instead, she was stuck behind the counter, waiting for the couple to buy something, anything.

“Oi! ‘xcuse me,” she called out in her best ‘I’m too polite to be rude, but not for much longer’ tone. “Can I ‘elp ya with anythin’?”

The couple glanced up, looked at each other, and then the young man returned to looking at the jars of jam while his companion gave Queenie a weak ‘leave me alone’ smile.

“Just browsing,” she said as if it were nothing before doing the same.

“‘Just browsin’’ she says,” Queenie squawked, talking to no one in particular as her mood soured. “This ain’t M an’ S, Lovie. Yer’ve been ‘ere twen’y minutes an’ so far all yer’ve dun is finger me buns and admire me baubles… an’ that’s without buyin’ me dinner first! Now if ya don’t mind, I’ve got some very important business to attend to, so if ya could kindly bog off, that’d be lovely.”

The young couple, clearly miffed at being told to leave, huffed and muttered to each other before firing death glares in Queenie’s direction as they exited. She heard them mumble something about a “Grugle review”, but she didn’t know what that was and, to be honest, wasn’t particularly bothered to find out.

“An’ a Merry Chris’mas to ya too!” She called out to them sarcastically, tinkling her fingers in a wave as they walked past the window, shaking their heads in disbelief. When they disappeared from sight, Queenie’s fake smile immediately vanished, and her lips curled with indignation. “Yuppies!”

She heaved her old bones off the stool, and just as she got steady on her feet, the bell above the door jingled again.

Queenie groaned, and her shoulders sagged. “Oh, for—”

“Queenie!” a breathless voice called out from the doorway. “Are you still open?”

She didn’t mind at all when she turned and saw Emma Blake. Her face brightened with a smile. “For yer, Doc, I’m always open.” She hobbled towards her friend and withdrew the set of shop keys from her cardigan pocket. “But just let me lock the door so no other London twats can come swannin’ in askin’ for glu’en-free mince pies or somethin’ equally as ridiculous!”

Emma moved aside as Queenie locked them in before turning and looking at her with one hand on her hip like the little teapot. “So, what can I do ya for?”

“It’s nothing that dramatic, don’t worry,” Emma replied with a soft smile. “I’ve had a mishap with my coat, actually.” She moved the flap to show Queenie where a button was missing. “The button came off, and I can’t find my sewing kit anywhere. You wouldn’t happen to have a needle and thread, would you?”

Queenie gave her an exaggerated look of mock horror. “A sewin’ kit? On Chris’mas Eve? The audacity of some people.” She turned on her heel, heading for the back of the shop. “I’ve got a whole drawer of sewin’ kits for emergencies just like this. Got ‘em cheap when the ‘aberdashers closed down back in twen’y ten.”

Emma let out a thankful exhale and followed her to the back of the store. “You’re a lifesaver, Queenie!”

“Oh, don’t ya go flatterin’ me now,” she replied with a teasing smile and began digging through her sewing supplies. “Yer’ll give me a bigger ‘ead than the one I’ve already got!”

Emma snuffled and soon, Queenie found what she was looking for and tossed her a spool of green thread, not bothering to check whether it was the right shade.

“Are you coming to the carols concert?”

“Oh yes,” Queenie replied, passing over a small traveller sewing kit. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world! It’s tradition.”

“And are Gail and Will coming?”

“Should be ‘ere any minute!” Queenie’s eyes sparkled at the thought, and she looked back with a broad smile. “I can’t thank ya enough for findin’ ‘er for me, Doc. Ya really are one of the bestest friends I ever did ‘ave.”

Emma smiled warmly, and she reached out, rubbing Queenie’s arm in support. “I’m so glad you have your Gail back after so many years. You truly deserve nothing but happiness, Queenie.”

Just then, the first flakes of snow began to fall.

“Well, would ya look at that!” Queenie said with a hint of wonder, nodding towards the window. “Snow.”

Emma turned and watched as the snow flurry became a snow shower. “Well, it is Christmas, after all.”

Queenie smiled at the beauty of it all. “Yes,” she agreed. “An’ what a Chris’mas it’ll be!”

Glendale Hall,
Glendale

The sitting room of Glendale Hall was quiet, except for the soft crackle of the fire. Outside, snow fell silently over the village, while inside, Nick sat alone on the Chesterfield sofa, staring at the small, neatly wrapped gifts from Julia that now sat on the coffee table. For some reason that he couldn’t quite work out, he felt the need to always have them near him. He didn’t want to open them, not really, but he was also curious about what they could be and couldn’t shift from his mind the hopeful and pleading look on Julia’s face when she had given them to them.

With a deep exhale, curiosity got the better of him, and he reached for the gifts.

He opened the small, square one first, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he saw it was a monogrammed black leather wallet from Launer – the same gift Julia had given him every year since he was fifteen. He could hear her voice in his head – “You can never have enough Launer.”

He put it down and picked up the bigger one. Carefully, he peeled back the paper to reveal a first edition of The Enchanted Wood. His chest tightened as he recognised the favourite book from his childhood – the one she had read to him over and over until the spine was cracked and the book was practically falling apart.

He opened the cover slowly and noticed a message written in Julia’s elegant handwriting.

To my darling Nicky,
I hope this brings back happy memories.
Love always,
Julia (Mum) x

His throat constricted, and he swallowed hard. He felt his anger begin to wobble and prickly tears begin to fill his eyes. The smell of the old pages brought childhood memories flooding back – the nights snuggled up against her as she read to him, the way she put on different voices for each character, the way she kissed him goodnight, and the way she always said, “Goodnight, love you, see you in the morning.”

Nick blinked away his tears, unwilling to let them fall just yet. He felt cracks appear in the walls he had built around his heart and wondered if he had been right to do so. Then, he traced the words of the inscription with his fingers and realised that, perhaps, there was still a chance. Perhaps, there was still light amongst the dark.

Greenview Cottage,
Glendale

Marion stood at the vanity, looking at her reflection in the mirror as she carefully dragged the mascara wand across her lashes. For once, her mind was blank, calmed by the snow she could see falling in the reflection of the window in the mirror. Then, as she moved her hand, her wedding ring glinted in the light. She looked at it for a moment in the reflection before slowly lowering her hand as her eyes drifted down to the gold band on her ring finger.

She spun it with her thumb, thinking about what it represented and what was now broken. She thought about the lies and deceit, the arguments and niggles, the happy times, the sad times, and the times when life felt so much easier just knowing Ed was by her side. But that wasn’t her life anymore. The bad days now outweighed the good, Ed was rarely by her side, and the lies had left scars.

Slowly, she removed the ring and let it sit in the palm while she studied what her finger looked like ringless for the first time in over thirty-five years.

“Marion!” Ed’s deep voice bellowed from downstairs, jolting her back into reality. “Come on! It’s time to go!”

“Coming!”

She slipped the ring back onto her finger and looked at her reflection one last time. She no longer recognised the woman staring back at her, and she knew it was time for a change.

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

Ben’s boots crunched on the fresh snow as he walked up the short path that led to Emma’s cottage. With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black coat, he could feel the engagement ring box against his fingers. He paused at the door, took a breath, and then knocked.

After a few moments, Emma opened it, all ready to go in her long, recently repaired, deep green wool coat that was cinched at the waist with a leather belt, a knitted scarf of soft cream wrapped snugly around her neck, and a woollen beret perched perfectly atop her loose golden-brown curls. “Hey,” she smiled, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves.

“You look beautiful.”

“You’re… here by yourself?” she said, surprised, as she looked around as if expecting the rest of the Granger clan.

He shrugged. “Yeah. Mum was taking ages to get ready, so she and Dad will come later. Rebecca’s taking the twins to the carols, so it’s just the two of us for now.” He smiled, and his breath puffed in the freezing air. “If that’s okay?”

“More than okay,” Emma replied, pulling the door shut and slipping her hand through the crook in Ben’s arm as they started down the snow-covered path on their way to the carol concert. “It’s perfect.”

Glenbrook Farm,
Glendale

Pamela stood in the bedroom, looking at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, as she fastened a kitschy Christmas wreath brooch to her red wrap dress before smoothing the fabric. She turned several times to check her appearance, ensuring it would meet with Brian’s approval – tasteful, elegant, not too revealing. Satisfied he would approve – and she wouldn’t be in line for another punishment – she touched her hair gently, ensuring her bob was just so, and smacked her red-coated lips.

Over her shoulder, Brian appeared in the doorway, and Pamela noticed him in the reflection. She forced a smile and turned to face her husband. The bottom of the festive dress twirled, and for once, she felt beautiful. “Well, what do you think?”

“You look like a slut!”

The growl from the doorway caused her stomach to drop, and Pamela felt the floor beneath her feet shudder. “I thought it looked nice.”

“Nice?” Brian’s laugh was low and cruel, the same one Pamela had heard nearly every day of her married life. The one intended to make her feel small and stupid. The one intended to ridicule and humiliate. “You think I’m going to let you walk out the door dressed like that? Like a slut that’s begging for it?”

He stepped into the room, and Pamela instinctively stepped back, bumping into the mirror. His presence was oppressive, and hate radiated off him. She knew what came next.

Brian stopped in front of her and sneered, looking her up and down as if she were worthless. His eyes settled on her face, and he studied her immaculately applied makeup. The corners of his lips curled in disgust. “Look at ya!” he snarled and clamped a hand around her jaw with such iron strength it made her wince. “Muck all over ya face. Made up like some cheap tart.”

Pamela couldn’t look her husband in the eyes. She was too afraid and, instead, prepared herself for the whacks and slaps that were certain to follow. But, suddenly, something deep inside her thought, “No, not today.” She forced herself to meet his hate-filled glare and summoned a strength within she didn’t know she had. “I thought I looked quite pretty.”

That was all it took.

She saw his eyes become black.

She felt his grip around her jaw tighten.

She saw his lip twitch.

She knew what came next.

“Pretty?” Brian hissed in a way that made her blood run cold. “You think this is pretty?”

He roughly smeared the lipstick from her mouth with his hand, wiping it across her cheek in a way that felt like sandpaper against her skin. Pamela’s eyes instantly watered.

“YOU THINK THIS IS PRETTY!” He roared again, his voice bouncing around the room in a way that seemed to hit her even though he hadn’t. “YOU LOOK LIKE A SLUT! GET IT OFF!”

He tossed her aside like a discarded tissue, and she flung into the wardrobe with a heavy thud.

“Brian—”

“GET IT OFF! GET CHANGED!”

Pamela could feel her whole body shaking, and she glanced back at him briefly. “No! I’m not changing!”

For a moment, a hush descended, and Brian looked at his wife like a puppy tilting its head to hear. He wasn’t used to such disobedience. “What did you say to me?”

The calmness in his voice was more terrifying than his yelling, and Pamela knew she was in deep trouble. She straightened and stuck out her chin. If she was going down, she was going down fighting. “I said I’m not changing. This dress is beautiful, and if you have a problem with it, then you can go jump for all I care.”

The world paused briefly, then the moment shattered. Brian flew at her, so sudden and urgent that it made her scream in terror. He backhanded her in a way that knocked her from her feet, and the thwack of his hand against her cheekbone drowned out the thud of her body hitting the floor.

“YOU WILL!” Brian bellowed, lost in his rage, as he slapped her around the head again and again. “YOU WILL OBEY ME! YOU WILL FUCKING DO AS YOU’RE TOLD!”

Pamela tried to shield her face from the brutal onslaught as she struggled to scramble to her feet. Brian clawed at her, slapping and tearing at her skin. She rolled onto her back, and he straddled her, hands and fists flying. Screams and yelps mixed with grunts and barks as slaps became punches. Brian tugged at the dress in a wild frenzy as Pamela thrashed about, desperate to get her abusive husband off her. The fabric ripped. The brooch went flying. Pamela sobbed and fought for her life. Then, with one thumping whack, silence fell.

Panting and breathless, Brian looked down at a trembling and terrified Pamela as she sobbed and held her face. They stayed like that for a moment, both struggling to comprehend the brutality of what had just happened, before Brian rose to his feet.

Sobbing, Pamela looked up at her husband as he just stood there for a moment, looking down at her with the same sympathy one gives a piece of roadkill. Then, without warning, he kicked her in the stomach with such force she groaned as if her soul left her body and buckled into the foetal position, struggling for breath.

The world spun.

She couldn’t breathe.

Brian stood over her, watching. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. His or hers? He didn’t know.

This was it. She was going to die.

Pamela rolled onto her back, beaten and bruised, her dress torn to shreds and her body begging for mercy. Brian stood over her, and it was then she noticed him unbuckling his belt. She swallowed and could taste blood.

“Brian,” she whispered with a groan. “No.”

He didn’t listen. He slipped his belt from his trousers and unbuttoned the button. “Dress like a slut, and you’ll be treated like a slut.”

Pamela’s heart thundered in her chest.

“No,” she whispered. “No, Brian, no.”

He unzipped the zipper.

She rolled over, wincing in pain but forcing herself to move as she clawed her way along the carpet towards the door. “No, Brian, no.” She heard him pull down his trousers. “No.” She dragged herself towards the door.

Then, he grasped hold of her ankles with such force and dragged her back towards him.

“No!” Pamela screamed as he flipped her over. She knew what came next. She’d been here before more times than she cared to confess. This was, after all, exactly how their youngest son, Hamish, had been conceived. Brutal. Forced. “No! Brian! No!”

He yanked at the fabric of her dress, pinning her down as she thrashed about in a final attempt to free herself.

“Brian!” Pamela cried out in terror, tears running down her cheeks. “Please, Brian, no! Stop! No! Please no!” She looked into his soulless eyes and realised he wasn’t hearing her.

All Saints Church,
Glendale

Reverend Turner stood in the vestry, straightening the collar of his cassock in the small, wall-mounted mirror. He could hear the murmur of voices from the nave as the village began to assemble for their traditional Christmas Eve carols. He checked his hair one more time – not out of vanity, of course, just… presentability – when there came a knock at the door.

“Come in!”

The door opened a crack, and Jack Campbell’s familiar face appeared. “Hi.”

Matthew’s smile grew instantly. “Jack! Come in.” He gestured for his friend to enter. “Everything alright?”

Dressed in jeans, a navy peacoat and a thick woollen scarf, Jack removed his flat cap as he stepped inside. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and there was a dusting of snow on his shoulders. “Yeah. I just… wanted to wish you good luck before everything starts.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s going to be wonderful. You’ll be wonderful.”

There was a flutter in the vicar’s chest.

“I’m glad you popped in actually,” he said lightly, trying not to sound as flustered as he felt. “I’ve got something for you.”

Jack frowned, confused. “Something for me?”

“Yes.” Matthew moved to the small cupboard in the corner and pulled out a neatly wrapped rectangular gift. “I was going to wait until tomorrow, but since you’re here, and I’m terrible at waiting…”

He handed the gift to Jack, whose eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Matt, you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” Reverend Turner replied. “But I wanted to.”

Jack tore the paper to reveal a personalised block of Cadbury chocolate with his name printed on the front. He smiled, amused at the joke from a few nights earlier.

“Read the card,” Matthew prompted.

Taped to the block was a small, blank white card. Jack flipped the flap, and there was a message written in Matthew’s familiar block handwriting:

Merry Christmas!
From your Cadbury x

For a second Jack blinked, taking in the message. The ‘your’. The kiss. “Thank you.” He looked back at Matthew, unable to hide his smile as the room seemed to spark with something they both felt. “It’s… well, it’s brilliant!”

Matthew beamed. Watching Jack’s reaction was worth every moment of anticipation. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.”

“There’s one more thing.”

Matthew stepped closer, and Jack didn’t move back. The two men looked into each other’s eyes, each one knowing what was coming and unwilling to let the moment pass. Matthew reached out and cupped a hand against Jack’s unshaven cheek before pressing a tender, careful kiss onto his lips.

When they parted, Jack’s eyes were wide, searching Matthew’s face.

The vicar smiled – a little shy yet a little excited. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

For a moment Jack simply stood there, staring in disbelief. It was perfect, just like Matthew. Then, he stepped forward and kissed him back. This time it was more intense, more passionate. He held the vicar’s face in his hands, and Matthew placed his hands on Jack’s waist, pulling him closer.

They broke apart only when the organ pipes blared through the vestry wall, alerting them to the fact that it was getting close to show time.

Both men looked at each other for a moment before bursting into shy, embarrassed giggles.

“After the carols, I want to talk,” Matthew said, running a hand gently along Jack’s rough cheek as he looked into his eyes. “I want to be with you, Jack.”

Jack’s entire face lit up like the star atop the Christmas tree. “I’d like that. More than you know.”

Matthew stole one last quick kiss. “Good. Now go and find a seat before you end up stuck next to someone horrible.”

Jack laughed, backing toward the door, still holding the chocolate block. “Right. Yes. I’ll go.”

The vestry door closed with a click, and Matthew let out a deep, happy sigh, for all his Christmases had come at once.

-:-

Lewis and Samantha sat quietly in a pew, with their coats still on, as the church gradually filled with arriving villagers. The silence between them was comfortable and familiar, and he had no idea she was beginning to doubt the foundations of their marriage.

Samantha’s gaze drifted toward the right-hand side of the church where the children’s choir was gathering, and she spotted Gracie, laughing at something one of the other girls had whispered to her. Samantha smiled and gave a small wave. Gracie waved back before turning her attention back to her friends.

“I’m going to grab a coffee before it all starts,” Lewis said, leaning closer so only she could hear him. “Want one?”

“No, I’m fine,” Samantha said, pulling her coat tighter. “I’ll stay here and try to keep what’s left of the feeling in my toes.”

He chuckled. “Alright. Back in a minute.” He pressed a brief kiss to her temple before shuffling along the pew and setting off down the nave towards the coffee van set up outside. Once clear, Lewis fished his phone from his pocket and quickly tapped out a message with his thumbs.

Meet me outside by the vestry in five?

He hit send before he could change his mind and then slipped the phone back into his pocket and hurried out the doors.

CuriosiTEAS Café,
Glendale

Charlotte Harrington-Jones sat alone at a table in the window of the village café and placed her now empty teacup down on its matching saucer. The word ‘pregnant’ still echoed in her mind, and she wondered how she was going to tell him. How would he react? What would happen to his marriage? Would everyone hate her?

Outside, the village green was a hive of activity as the Glendale locals made their way toward All Saints Church for the carols. The snowfall now coated everything in a thin white dust and seemed to enhance the feeling of Christmas in the air. She smiled as the children danced in the falling flakes and unconsciously rubbed a hand against her stomach. This time next year, she’d be one of them. A parent. A mother.

Then she saw him.

He crossed the green with his family, all of them blissfully unaware of the bomb she would eventually drop on their family. She couldn’t keep avoiding things. She couldn’t carry the truth alone any longer. She had to tell him. Tonight. Before she lost her nerve.

Charlotte pulled her iPhone from the pocket of her coat and quickly typed out a message before she could overthink it.

We need to talk. Meet me in the Coronation Gardens.

She didn’t hesitate to hit send.

The moment the message left her screen, her stomach dropped. There was no going back now.

Charlotte stood up from her chair, slipped on her coat, and braced herself, knowing that shortly, he would know the truth and lives would be changed forever.

Village Green,
Glendale

Linking arms with her mother, Jasmine walked with Marion and Ed as they made their way toward the church. The snow caught in Jasmine’s dark curls and in the faux fur trim of Marion’s coat, while Ed strode beside them, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Then, the sharp ping of a delivered text message cut through the air as one of their phones vibrated.

-:-

Rebecca Williams crossed the snowy village green with Oliver and Poppy practically bouncing at her sides, giddy with excitement for their imminent carols concert performance. Beside them, Audrey Granger walked with careful steps, as families and villagers streamed toward the church.

“So”, Audrey began, struggling to find a mutual topic of conversation with her grandson’s ex-wife, “how are things going with James?” She said it casually, but Rebecca heard the intention beneath it. Audrey never asked anything accidentally. “Word at the W.I. is that it’s getting serious between you two.”

Rebecca felt her cheeks burn despite the cold. “It’s… going well.”

“Bit of an odd pairing, I must say.”

Rebecca side-eyed the elderly woman, choosing not to take the bait.

“But, as my mother always used to say, there’s a lid for every pot.”

Rebecca knew the gossips were whispering and sniggering behind her back, she knew they doubted her intentions, she knew they said bad things about James, and she knew they found their relationship confusing, but she didn’t care. It was an unexpected romance, but one that she was fully embracing.

“We’re taking it… slow,” she said, trying to sound breezy.

Oliver looked up at her. “Mum, is James gonna be our new dad?”

The question was asked loud enough for three nearby families to glance over.

Before Rebecca could sputter out a reply, Poppy piped in with unabashed enthusiasm, “I hope so! He’s rich! And he has that big house! I want to be rich! I could be as rich as a princess!”

Rebecca stopped walking and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Honestly. Both of you, just shush!”

Audrey smiled as she winked at her great-grandchildren. “So,” she continued, with a light tone, changing the subject to protect Rebecca from any further humiliation. “What time do you want us over for supper tomorrow?”

Rebecca shrugged. She hadn’t given any consideration to the timing of the day and was already dreading being confined to her cottage with the Granger family for longer than necessary. “Erm… I dunno. Maybe six? Seven?”

“Six, seeeeeven,” Oliver and Poppy said in unison, moving their hands as if weighing something.

Rebecca let out the loudest groan of her life, scolding herself for not realising. “Oh, God!”

Audrey frowned, bamboozled as to what was happening, while Oliver and Poppy dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. “What the…?”

“Don’t ask, Audrey,” Rebecca huffed, exasperated. “Just don’t ask.”

-:-

Hilda and Arthur walked arm in arm, and as they approached the edge of the village green, her face tightened because there, stationed at the lychgate like the self-appointed Queen of Christmas, was Tilly, beaming and greeting everyone with far too much enthusiasm in a red dress and faux fur coat that Hilda felt was more suited to the street corner than the churchyard. She bobbed along as Kylie’s Christmas hit, “Xmas”, pumped from a Bluetooth speaker, and perfectly copied the dance routine as she greeted another villager.

“Oh, look at her,” Hilda muttered under her breath, her hand instinctively tightening around Arthur’s arm. “Bits and bobs up and out, holding court like she’s Tess-bleedin’-Daly hosting the Royal Variety Performance or somethin’.”

Arthur didn’t reply; instead, his attention was drawn to Tilly’s daughter, Olivia, who stood nearby, talking to a few other villagers.

Before Hilda could complain further, Queenie’s voice rang out across the green. “Oi! ‘ilda!”

Hilda stopped and turned as the elderly woman bustled up to her as fast as she could in the slippery conditions.

“‘ere!” She panted, pressing a small box into Hilda’s hand. “I got ya a Chris’mas present!”

“Oh, Queenie!” A broad grin spread across Hilda’s face, and she wiggled her eyebrows at her husband before looking back at Queenie. “You shouldn’t have!”

“Go on!” Queenie encouraged her with a nod and a wave. “Open it!”

Hilda lifted the lid of the box to see nothing but a small pot of shoe polish. Her grin soured into a snarl. “No, really, you shouldn’t have.”

Queenie squawked with laughter, and it seemed to echo around the green, drawing everyone’s attention as Hilda’s cheeks flared. “Just a li’l somethin’ to tidy up the leather of those mucky Mary Jane’s so ya don’t go gettin’ grits in ya chompers when ya start to munch on ‘em.”

Hilda was furious, and Arthur was confused. He looked at Queenie, baffled as to what she was talking about.

“Said she’d eat ‘er own shoes if that Tilly Wainwright did somethin’ nice for the church,” Queenie said with a sniff. “Well, who do ya think ‘elped the vicar get the kiddies choir together?” She cackled as Hilda looked indignant.

Queenie’s snigger was suddenly cut short when she noticed a sleek black Mercedes-Benz sedan slow to a stop on the far side of the village green. “Oh, ‘xcuse me,” she said, already hobbling away as fast as her feet would allow on the snowy surface. But, unable to resist one last parting shot, she looked back over her shoulder at Hilda and yelled, “Eat up, buttercup!”

-:-

Gareth Worchester was a few steps ahead of the rest of his family, staring intently at his phone, while Ruby and Leo walked silently alongside each other, both equally absorbed in theirs.

A few paces back, Gareth’s wife, Yasmin, shook her head with a small sigh as she walked slowly beside her mother-in-law, Betty, making sure she didn’t take a tumble on the icy path.

“Honestly!” Betty huffed, a little out of breath and leaning heavily on her cane. “I feel like we’re invisible. Not a single word spoken to us this entire walk. Just them with those bloody phones glued to their hands.”

“It’s the way of the world, Betty.” Yasmin replied, glancing at her with a sheepish smile.

Nearby, Ashwin and Meera were making their way across the village green, with her hand resting comfortably in the crook of his arm.

Betty elbowed her daughter-in-law and lowered her voice. “Look at her,” she said, nodding toward Meera, “stealin’ her poor sister’s husband while she’s banged up in prison. The nerve of it!”

Yasmin stifled a smile and couldn’t help but think her mother-in-law a hypocrite. After all, it was because of her extramarital affair that Gareth had been born.

-:-

The passenger-side door of the Mercedes-Benz sedan opened, and Gail Jenkins stepped out, her eyes wide and mouth agape at the twinkling lights, the falling snow and the giant Christmas tree in the middle of the village green. It was simply beautiful.

“It’s like a Christmas card!” she said breathlessly, as her young granddaughter hopped out of the back before Will exited the driver’s side.

Queenie was already waiting by the car, her heart pounding with excitement to finally have her little girl home. “Welcome to Glendale!” She stepped forward and hugged Gail, breathing her in and not wanting to let her go. It was then she spotted the sweet little blonde-haired girl looking up at her inquisitively. Queenie smiled and waved at her as she and Gail parted. “‘ello!”

“Mum, this is Jemima,” Gail said, introducing her to the little girl.

Will stood behind his daughter and rested his hands on her shoulders, offering encouragement. “You wanna say hi, Jem?”

The young girl, dressed in a red coat with a faux fur trim, smiled in a way that made Queenie’s heart melt. She looked just like her own mother, also named Jemima. “Hello.”

Queenie stepped forward. “I’m yer great-granny. But ya can call me Queenie.”

Jemima nodded, although there was already a thought brewing behind her eyes. “And you can call me Princess.”

Queenie squawked with laughter, and Gail’s eyes filled with happy tears. Finally, after years of searching, her family was complete.

Hugs and kisses were exchanged between the four generations, and it was then that Queenie noticed everyone watching on. Whispers rippled through the crowd, and Queenie slowly turned, taking in all the gawping faces. Her eyes moved from Yasmin to Betty and from Hilda to Rebecca before finally settling on Audrey – her lifetime friend. Confusion reigned, and Queenie knew what she had to do.

She drew in a deep breath and summoned up the courage to reveal to the village the secret she had kept for over seventy years.

“Everyone, this is me daugh’er… Gail. And this is ‘er family – ‘er son, Will, an’ ‘is daugh’er, Jemima.”

Audrey looked at Queenie in astonishment, struggling to comprehend what she was hearing and wondering whether she knew her friend at all.

Acorn Cottage,
Glendale

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tony said softly and with a sense of wonder, watching the snow fall like sifted flour through the window.

Carol sat opposite him at the kitchen table, her pen scribbling something in a Christmas card. She didn’t bother to look up. “What is?”

“The snow. Christmas. Life.” He turned his attention away from the window and watched as Carol stuffed the card into an envelope, licked the seal on the flap and stuck it down before scribbling a name on the front. “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

“Yes. First thing in the morning.”

Tony chuckled and shook his head before looking back at the window.

“I can’t believe we’ve done it again,” Carol huffed, adding the card to the ever-growing pile. “You were supposed to keep me on track this year! ‘No more last-minute cards on Christmas Eve,’ we said. Yet here we are, me doing all the work and you just sitting there watching the snow fall.”

Tony shrugged with an apologetic smile. “It’s tradition, love. Besides, your writing is neater than mine.”

Carol glanced back at him with a cocked eyebrow and her lips pressed firmly together as she reached for another. Her hand ached, but she needed to get them all done. “All right, who’s next? Hilda and Arthur.”

Outside, the bells of All Saints began to ring, welcoming the villagers ahead of the carol service.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Tony asked. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

Carol shook her head. “I don’t fancy it this year. I’m happy here, just you and me. Together. As it should be.”

“Fair enough, love,” Tony smiled warmly. “Fair enough.”

All Saints Church,
Glendale

“Slow down, Noah!” Kate called out to her youngest as he ran through the lychgate and zoomed down the snow-covered path towards the church, his red knitted scarf trailing behind him like the tail of a comet. “You’ll slip and break ya neck!”

“If we’re lucky,” Harry mumbled beside her.

Kate whipped her attention to her nearly 12-year-old, firing off a stern glare. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You’d feel really bad if it actually happened.”

“No, I wouldn’t. He’s annoying! He’s a brat!”

So are you, thought Kate. Harry had been morose for days, but she fully understood why. Christmas was a hard time of year, even more so this year. It hadn’t been the kindest to the family, and although nothing would ever top the tragedy of 2024, 2025 came awfully close.

“Just please be nice,” Kate pleaded in her Welsh accent with a defeated sigh. “Just for tonight. Just for Christmas. Just while Jesus and Father Christmas are watching.”

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his coat tighter. “He’s not real!”

“Who? Jesus or Father Christmas?” Kate smirked, pleased with herself when she caught the faintest of smiles on Harry’s face.

While other villagers followed the stone path that led into the inviting warmth of the church, the Spencers peeled off, taking a detour to lay some flowers on Tom’s grave. Noah stood waiting beside the granite headstone, sticking out his tongue to catch snowflakes.

Kate felt her throat tighten as she, Harry and Ava arrived at the graveside. It never got easier, but Christmas always felt the hardest. For a moment, no one spoke as they all stood in the snow, remembering the man they missed and adored.

Thomas William Spencer
17 March 1980 – 4 September 2024
Beloved husband and father
Forever loved

Stepping forward, Kate crouched down and set a small, handpicked bouquet of pansies and holly from the gardens of Greystone Downs at the base of the headstone.

“Do you think they’ll be able to hear the carols in heaven?” Noah asked, looking at the snowflakes catching on his open-palmed mitten.

Kate smiled faintly at the sweet, innocent question. “Yes, Bubble,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him close so she could kiss the top of his head. “I’m sure they can.”

Noah nodded, pleased at the confirmation. “Good! Because Dad and Grandpa Tony loved the carols!”

Kate’s gaze shifted to the grave next to Tom’s.

Anthony “Tony” Walter Patrick Kennedy
22 April 1957 – 16 July 2025
Always in our hearts

Her father-in-law’s death five months earlier had come as a complete shock. On the morning of July 16, Tony had suffered a fatal heart attack at home, leaving the family bereft and Glendale stunned. Carol had taken her husband’s sudden passing particularly hard, and it was the reason she had sold The Oak & Vine. Like Audrey, Kate had her worries for her mother-in-law’s mental wellbeing, but at least now with the pub sold and Carol living at Acorn Cottage with Audrey and Queenie, there would be someone around to keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay.

“Come on,” Kate said, taking Noah by the hand and leading her family back towards the church. “Let’s go inside.”

Acorn Cottage,
Glendale

“Do you think I should put a kiss or no kiss?” Carol asked, frowning heavily as she tapped her pen against the tabletop, wondering how to sign off the Christmas card to Hilda and Arthur.

Tony didn’t answer.

She looked up, ready to tease him for not listening, but the chair across from her was empty. Her brow creased with confusion.

“Tony?” she said, softly at first, then a little louder. “Tony?” She turned in her chair, half-expecting to see him standing by the sink or fiddling with the radio. But there was no one. The only answer she got was the ticking of the clock. Carol turned back and glanced down at the card before her.

With love,
Carol and Tony

It took her a moment to realise what she’d done. It took her a moment to remember.

July 16.

She was cooking breakfast.

He was making the tea.

That song by that guy that had won Pop Idol all those years ago was playing on the radio.

He said he felt a bit off – just a twinge, nothing serious.

She told him to sit down.

He refused, disobedient as ever.

She took the sizzling pan of bacon from the hob and turned it off.

He pressed a hand to his chest and grimaced.

She watched his mouth open as he tried to speak, but no sound came.

The colour drained from his face. His eyes, filled with terror, met hers.

Cold spread through her veins.

She shouted his name.

He fell to the floor.

She ran and dropped to her knees beside him.

She screamed for help.

He looked into her eyes, scared and silently begging for help.

She screamed again.

Hilda came running into the kitchen.

The song finished.

Hilda was on the phone.

Her hands trembled.

She said his name.

She wiped his brow.

She kissed his lips.

She told him he was going to be okay.

She stroked his cheek.

She told him to hang on.

She kissed him again.

She told him she loved him.

He looked so scared.

She kissed him again.

She saw the life leave his eyes.

She was numb.

She screamed.

He died.

For a long moment Carol sat there, head bowed, breathing carefully as if she was too afraid to make a sound.

“Always end with a kiss.”

Carol lifted her head, and there Tony was again, sitting opposite her, smiling, watching over her as he always had. She let out a shaky breath – half with laughter, half with relief – and smiled. “I thought you’d gone.”

He reached for her hand, and she swore she could feel it.

“I’m right here.”

Carol smiled. “You won’t ever leave me, will you?”

“Never, my darling,” Tony replied firmly. “Never.”

Carol nodded, pleased with the answer, and resumed her Christmas card writing. She kept talking, occasionally nodding and smiling or laughing at what she heard back, while the chair opposite her remained empty.

Glendale,
England

Queenie and her family – it still felt weird to call them that, her family – made their way along the icy path toward the church. She looked at her daughter, unable to wipe the smile from her face. After seventy-two long years of heartache and longing, they were finally together. She could hardly believe the moment was real.

It was then that Queenie was suddenly struck by a memory – Gail’s gift.

“Go an’ get us a seat,” she said, flapping a hand at the church while already manoeuvring her old bones to turn and walk back to her shop. “I’ve just remembered that I’ve left something in the shop for ya. I’ll be two ticks!”

-:-

Kate, Harry and Ava sat together in a pew at All Saints while Noah assembled with the other children of the choir in front of the altar. Candles lit up the stained-glass windows of Mary, Jesus and Joseph, while two large Christmas trees stood at either side, wonkily decorated earlier in the week by those in the choir.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her coat pocket.

Pulling it out, she saw it was a FaceTime call from her mother and knew she had to take it. She gave her excuses, shuffled along the pew and walked down the nave before heading outside.

“Hiya Mam!” she said, holding the phone in front of her face as she stood outside in the snow, already shivering from the cold.

Gwen Caddick – dressed in a festive t-shirt with large Christmas wreath earrings dangling from her ears – beamed back at her from an annoyingly sunny Australia. “Nadolig Llawen, cariad!” she said in her native welsh. “How’s your Christmas Day going? Is that snow?”

Kate looked around and nodded. “Yes, it’s snow. And it’s still Christmas Eve here. You’re ahead, remember?”

Gwen nodded, although Kate could tell she didn’t really understand the concept of time difference. “Have you opened your gift yet?”

Kate let out an audible sigh, although she didn’t mean to. “No, because it is still Christmas Eve here. I literally just said that.”

Gwen swatted away her response. “Well, it is here, cariad! And you’ll want to open it. Inside, you’ll find something very special…”

Kate frowned. “Well, you might as well just tell me now.”

“Fine. It’s four tickets to Sydney for you and the children. A holiday.”

Kate’s eyes bulged in astonishment, and a hand flew to her mouth. She couldn’t speak for a moment and just stared at the glowing screen.

“Dan and Tilly are going to look after the farm for a few weeks, and Ben said he’ll help. The vicar too.” Gwen smiled. This was exactly the reaction she was hoping for. “It’s all sorted, cariad. Just pack your bags and come.”

“Mam… I… I don’t know what to say…” Her voice cracked, and the tears began to fill her eyes.

“Just say yes.”

“Yes!” Kate spluttered with a laugh. “Yes! Omigod, yes!”

“Nadolig Llawen,” her mother said, smiling brighter than Kate had ever seen before. “We just want to see your smile again, cariad. You deserve it.”

Suddenly, Kate remembered Noah’s letter to Father Christmas.

Please, can you make us all happy again? And please, can you make Mummy smile?

Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t help but think that, maybe, just maybe, there really was such a thing as Father Christmas after all.

-:-

Inside, the chatter faded to a hush as the organ began to play. In front of the altar, the children’s choir looked to Reverend Turner for guidance and reassurance. He counted them in, and then, in perfect harmony, they began to sing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light

Hilda and Arthur sat shoulder to shoulder. She watched the little ones – some with beaming smiles, others achingly shy, some singing too loudly and others hardly at all – and couldn’t help but smile. She nudged Arthur gently, expecting him to smile at the littlest villagers serenading them.

But Arthur wasn’t looking at the choir at all.

His gaze was fixed across the aisle. Hilda followed it, her brow furrowing when she realised who he was watching – Tilly Wainwright. Of all people, Tilly. Her arch enemy. The woman she couldn’t stand. Beside her sat her daughter, Olivia.

Hilda glanced at Arthur, confused. Why on earth would her husband be staring at them like that? It didn’t make any sense.

Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

Queenie’s family sat in their pew, but Gail was uneasy. Queenie had been gone for some time now, and she kept turning and looking back toward the church doors, wondering if she should go and find her.

“She’ll be back any second,” Will said, giving his mother a smile before winking at his young daughter to ease the tension she was picking up on.

“I know,” Gail replied meekly. “It’s just… we’ve lost so much time already. I don’t want to be without her for another second.”

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay

At The Oak & Vine, Johnny leaned against the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene of their new home. The bar was full. He watched the twins chatter animatedly with his father at a corner table before his attention shifted to Jude, who stood behind the bar, pouring a drink while sharing a joke. Then, he looked at Tess as she handed a pint to a customer. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Johnny smiled back and couldn’t help but feel content. Life was good – really good.

Next year all our troubles will be miles away

Brian zipped up his trousers and buckled his belt, as Pamela lay on the bedroom floor, in her ripped dress, bloodied, beaten and degraded. She didn’t sob; in truth, she didn’t feel anything at all. She simply lay there, numb and silent, while Brian sorted himself out. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, and she knew deep down it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Once again as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore

Jack sat a few rows back from the front of the church, unable to wipe the smile from his face as he listened to the slightly wobbly harmonies of the children’s choir. He felt strangely light – hopeful, even. His eyes drifted, and he found Reverend Turner standing at the corner of the chancel, watching the choir with pride.

Matthew caught Jack’s gaze, and for a moment they were the only two in the world. A small, warm smile moved across the vicar’s lips – the exact same smile he’d had just after they’d kissed not long ago.

Jack smiled back, unable to deny the flutters of love and joy that stirred within.

Then the pew dipped slightly beside him.

Without thinking, Jack turned his head, expecting a late-arriving villager or a parent coming to see their child. Instead, he froze.

Lee Atkins sat there. His ex-husband. Back in the village as though he had never left, with his camel-coloured coat dusted with snow.

“Hello, Jack,” Lee said with the same twinkle in his eye that always made his ex-husband’s heart melt. “Merry Christmas.”

Jack’s smile soured as the past and the present collided.

Faithful friends who were dear to us
Will be near to us once more

Carol lay curled up on the sofa, her head resting on a plump tartan cushion that Tony had bought last Christmas. The living room of Acorn Cottage glowed with the warm twinkle of fairy lights from the Christmas tree, while the chaos on Albert Square kept everyone entertained on the telly. She sighed contentedly, feeling the gentle sweep of Tony’s hand through her auburn curls, the way he always did when he wanted her to relax. A smile tugged at her lips. Christmas Eve. Quiet. Safe. Wrapped in the affection of the man that she loved so dearly.

She looked across to the armchair and smiled as Tom sat watching her. How she had missed him. She knew he hadn’t gone, hadn’t left her all alone.

“Merry Christmas, Mum,” Tom said, giving her one of his usual winks.

Carol smiled. “Merry Christmas, sweets.”

She snuggled into Tony, blissfully happy to be alone with her husband and her son – “her boys”.

Only, they weren’t there.

Carol lay curled up on the sofa, her head resting on a rolled-up jumper of Tony’s. The living room of Acorn Cottage was dark and cold. The lights of the Christmas tree were off while the telly hadn’t been turned on. She lay there, staring off into space, silent and alone. Her chin trembled as tears threatened. Christmas Eve. Silent. Alone. Missing the husband that she loved so dearly and the son she couldn’t live without.

Someday soon we all will be together
If the Fates allow

Julia walked back into the sitting room of The Lake House with a glass of wine in hand, having chosen not to attend the carols concert. As she passed the credenza, she paused and looked at the scattering of family photographs – ghosts of Christmases past.

There were her parents, Judith and Harold, smiling on their long-ago wedding day; her brother, Michael, frozen in a moment of laughter that would never be repeated; a very young Nick, smiling back at her with a cheeky, toothless grin; and finally, the family portrait from happier years – her, Nick, and James, all leaning into one another as if nothing would tear them apart.

Julia stared at the images and felt the unwelcome sting of tears. She touched the silver frame of the family portrait and then pulled her hand away, as if suddenly remembering her reality. The cheer of Christmas felt like a world she no longer belonged to. Everyone she loved had left in one way or another. Death. Abandonment. Adultery. And on a night meant for togetherness, she had never felt more alone, surrounded only by memories of a family that no longer existed.

Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow

In the sitting room of Glendale Hall, Natalie sat curled on the sofa, trying to focus on EastEnders, but finding herself unable to draw her attention away from the first edition of The Enchanted Wood that Nick had left on the coffee table.

It was a clever, emotionally manipulative play from Julia and was designed to pierce straight through Nick’s defences and drag him back under her spell. Natalie could practically feel the book watching her and hear Julia taunting her.

With an exasperated huff, she jumped from the sofa, snatched the book from the table, walked to the fireplace, and – without hesitation – tossed it into the flames. The old pages caught fire with a whoosh, and Natalie watched Julia’s peace offering burn with a smile of deep satisfaction, as though she were erasing the woman herself.

As the book burnt, Natalie moved to the drinks trolley, picked up a crystal decanter and poured out two whiskies. She downed hers in one gulp and then, with the other glass in hand, headed upstairs to Nick, ready to give him an early Christmas present and claim victory as the only woman allowed in his life.

So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

Lewis stood in the shadows to the side of All Saints Church, partially hidden between a column and an oak tree. The collar of his coat was popped to shield him from the snow and give him a bit more anonymity as he waited for her, while the glow coming through the stained-glass windows gave him just enough light to see his surroundings. He could hear the choir and see the silhouettes of villagers moving in the distance, but the drifting snow gave him another level of protection, and he was confident they wouldn’t be seen. He moved his legs to keep warm and kept checking to make sure no one had spotted him.

He shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be coming. They shouldn’t be doing this. And yet they were. The pull of their attraction was too strong.

Soft footsteps crunched nearby as a female figure approached. Bundled in a dark coat, she kept her head lowered, as she too knew what they were doing was wrong.

Lewis stepped forward, and with his heart hammering, he smiled when the light from the church lit up the face of the woman who had stolen his heart.

Marion looked around, anxious and worried they’d be seen. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

Lewis reached out a gloved hand and tenderly cupped the cheek of his mother-in-law. Everything about her was amazing and made his heart sing – her smile, her kindness, the softness of her lips. He loved her.

“I got you something,” he said, before presenting her with a Tiffany blue box.

Marion accepted it, although she already knew what it was, and her stomach dropped. It was the gift Samantha had found, the gift she was convinced was for her.

“Open it.”

Marion did as instructed, and inside was a pendant, shaped like a teardrop with a pearl in the centre surrounded by diamonds, attached to a fine gold chain. “It’s beautiful.”

She looked back at Lewis and couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“I want to be with you, Marion,” he said quietly, the words tumbling from his mouth before he knew what he was saying.

She huffed, and a visible cloud of breath puffed into the icy air. “And I want that too,” she admitted for the first time, before closing the box. “But too many people will get hurt.” She shook her head, knowing how very wrong their affair was. “We can’t do this. We can’t.”

Lewis nodded, although it was a bitter pill to swallow. “I understand.”

Before either of them could reconsider, he leaned in and kissed her one tender, final goodbye. Electricity sparked between them. Their hearts beat and pulses pounded as one. Their bodies ached to be naked and intimate the way they had been before. Soon, they parted.

“I’m sorry.” Marion passed him back the necklace. “Give this to Sam. It’s the least she deserves.”

Without another word spoken, Marion turned and walked away. But after only a few steps, she hesitated. Temptation lured her back in. She rushed back and pulled him into one more kiss. It was urgent. It was intense. It was passionate.

Once again as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore

The headlights of a taxi shone onto the church lychgate as it slowed to a stop. One of the back doors opened, and a cloud of warm breath billowed into the icy air as a figure stepped out. A duffle bag was placed gently onto the pavement, and after retrieving something else from the taxi, the door was shut with a thud.

The taxi’s tyres crunched on the snow as it pulled away, while the figure remained still for a moment, taking everything in. Glendale looked as it always had – quaint, peaceful, perfect. Just as it was when they left. They turned and looked at the church.

It was Neha.

Snowflakes landed on her hair and coat as she shifted 8-month-old Kiaan from one hip to the other and readjusted his little knitted hat. She smiled at her son – her miracle – and then took in and let out a long, deep breath. She relaxed, ready to give Ashwin his Christmas surprise. She was free. She was home.

Faithful friends who were dear to us
Will be near to us once more

Snow drifted over the Coronation Gardens, settling on the hedges and blanketing the stone paths in white. In her thick woollen coat, Charlotte sheltered from the cold inside the hexagonal wooden gazebo, rubbing her gloved hands together to keep warm and nervously awaiting his arrival. Her stomach twisted with anxiety as she wondered how he would react. Was she doing the right thing?

She heard footfall crunching through the snow and knew he was approaching from her left. Charlotte swallowed. It was now or never. The gardens were dark except for the light of a traditional Victorian lamp that bathed the gazebo in a golden glow.

He approached, and as he stepped into the light, Charlotte smiled.

“Hey,” Gareth said with the same dimpled smile that had first made her heart melt five months ago. “I got your message. What’s up?”

Someday soon we all will be together
If the Fates allow

At The Store, shattered glass was strewn across the floor, glittering in the light of the streetlamp outside. Shelves were overturned, the festive decorations had been ripped from their hooks, and the 1950s portrait of the late Queen Elizabeth II – Queenie’s favourite picture of her most favourite person – lay smashed and discarded on the floor.

Behind the counter, Queenie lay unconscious with a deep, bloodied gash to the side of her head. Her hand still clutched the small gift for Gail.

Having emptied what little money there was in the till into their coat pockets, glass crunched underfoot as the intruder moved about. They stood over Queenie’s body, surveying the chaos they’d created and the brutality they’d inflicted. A cruel, satisfied smile crept over their lips, and they pushed back the black hood that concealed their identity. The light revealed a face the village had hoped it would never see again – Luke Kennedy. He was back, and soon, everyone in the village would know it.

Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow

On the Village Green, the snow started to fall a little harder as Ben and Emma walked hand-in-hand toward the church. Despite being about a hundred metres away, they could already hear the choir. All around them, the village looked like a Christmas wonderland, and Ben instantly knew it was the perfect moment.

“Wait!” He squeezed her hand and tugged her gently to stop.

Emma stumbled slightly. “Ben—”

“Just stop.” He shook his head. “Trust me.”

Confused, Emma let him pull her to the side. They stood in front of the towering village Christmas tree with its lights twinkling and snowflakes falling all around them. She hadn’t the faintest idea of what was going on.

Ben, never letting go of her gloved hand, waited until they were alone. He triple-checked, making sure the coast was clear, and turned to face her. She tried to read his expression, but all she could see in his grey eyes was the reflection of the Christmas tree and village lights.

“What’s… going on?” Emma, sounding sceptical, glanced around and noticed they were completely alone.

“I’ve been waiting for the right moment,” Ben admitted, and there was a sudden nervousness in his voice. He looked into her eyes, really looked, and held her hands in his. Snowflakes swirled around them. “I didn’t want anything fancy or perfect. Just… you. Here. With me. On Christmas Eve.”

Before Emma knew what was happening, Ben dropped to one knee. From his coat pocket, he pulled out the small box and opened it to reveal Audrey’s emerald and diamond engagement ring as it sparkled in the glow of the Christmas tree.

“Emma,” he began, looking her firmly in the eyes, “you are the most amazing woman I have ever known, and I know it probably sounds corny as hell, but honestly – truly – my life really is all the better for having you in it. You complete me. You complete my family. The twins love you, and so do I, and… well, I can’t think of a better Christmas present to give you than to simply ask… will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world fell into silence.

With her heart hammering in her chest, Emma looked down at Ben, opened her mouth and, with a broad smile breaking across her face, simply said…

“Yes.”

So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

A BRAND-NEW SEASON OF GLENDALE – COMING IN 2026