A Cosy Christmas in Cornwall. Jane Linfoot

when I notice Bill’s braking, and glancing over at me.

      ‘We’re here, you might like to wake up.’

      Shit. I try for nonchalant and remind myself not to breathe in too deeply. ‘Just thinking about delicious smells.’

      ‘Like pine needles?’ The rough piece of board with a spray painted Christmas tree outline and an arrow we’re trundling past and a very bumpy lane that finally ends in a car park full of potholes suggest his mate in the trade is as cut price as he is. Merwyn’s bobbing up and down as we stop, then as I open the door he sees the puddles and he looks doubtful.

      ‘Your call, Merwyn.’ I shout to Bill behind the pickup. ‘He doesn’t like getting his paws muddy.’

      Bill’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Except when he’s burying my shorts, then apparently he doesn’t give a damn.’

      ‘Would you like me to order you some more?’ I’ve no idea why I’m offering, the way Bill left them lying around, he was asking for them to be run off with.

      ‘You’re okay, they weren’t my best ones.’

      ‘Definitely too much information.’ As I clamp my hands on my ears Merwyn decides he’ll join us after all, and jumps into my arms.

      From the way Bill’s rubbing his hands and taking long strides down the car park he’s either wanting to get this over with or he’s taking charge here. Or possibly both. ‘So are you looking for Norway spruce, Nordmann fir, or something more exotic? It’s all about the needle drop, you do know that?’

      As Merwyn and I pick our way between the puddles I have to ask. ‘So when did you become the expert?’

      There’s no crack in his confidence. ‘Since I phoned up to arrange it. We pick up the smaller ones here, I’ll pay for them all when they bring the big one for the hallway. So do you want one more or two?’

      I’m hoping he’s joking. ‘If you’ve sorted the huge one, we need a medium one for the kitchen, two more for the chill out spaces, some for the tower rooms and then another ten for the bedrooms.’

      ‘That many? Really?’ Bill’s horrified expression matches his squawk.

      ‘They’re the fastest way to get the festive feel.’ I’m taking this to him. ‘Unless you’ve come up with a better idea?’

      As expected, he doesn’t take me up on that one. ‘No doubt you want the fancy ones?’

      This time I’m thinking of the minuscule budget and the bigger picture. ‘A tree is a tree. Let’s get as many as we can of the cheapest.’ I know he’s being tight, but if they’re freshly cut the plain ones will easily last us until Boxing Day. ‘Unless you want them to double up for your New Year lets too?’

      ‘Hell, no.’ He strides further along the yard, to where there are trees propped against the fence.

      ‘That way there will be more cash to splash on the rest of the deccies.’

      ‘You mean this doesn’t end here?’ He just gives a disgusted head shake. ‘Hurry up and grab them then, I haven’t got all day.’ He picks up two by their tips and swings around.

      ‘Not so fast.’ I take in his look of incomprehension. ‘You can’t just take any, they’re not all the same.’

      ‘You just said, a tree is a tree.’

      I’m enjoying breaking it to him. ‘We have to choose the prettiest ones. Let’s start with the smaller ones for the bedrooms. Hold them up one by one, turn them around, and I’ll say yes or no.’ I have to admit I’m loving how much he’s hating this.

      By the time I’ve carefully selected sixteen trees the pile is huge. Bill looked like he lost the will to live some time ago, but I’m flying because suddenly Christmas feels so much closer. I slip Merwyn’s lead over my wrist and wrestle as many trees into my arms as I can, which turns out to be three.

      Bill’s staring at me. ‘But you don’t have to …’

      ‘I lug stuff around all the time at work, I’ve got this.’ It’s not a technique that would comply with any of Daniels’ manual handling guidelines, but hey!, this is Cornwall, it’s the holidays, rules are made for breaking. It’s always great to shock guys who assume women can’t lift anything heavier than a lipstick and by the time I set off I’m pretty damn pleased with myself. I’m half way back to the car park when I hear Bill’s shout.

      ‘I-v-yyyy …’

      My mouth is pretty full of pine needles. ‘What now?’

      ‘You’re going the wrong way.’

      Unbelievable. He comes out with the name Fraser fir, and now he knows it all. I can’t see past the branches, but I spin around anyway. ‘Wrong way how?’ Of course I’m going the right way, when I looked three seconds ago the Landy was still in the same place.

      I’m not the only one who’s confused as I hesitate. Below the branches Merwyn’s on his fully extended lead running backwards and forwards in ever crazier circles. Then I try to take a step, and my foot won’t move because Merwyn’s lead is tightening around my ankles. ‘What the heck …?’

      One minute I’m storming down the car park, the next I’m wobbling. It’s one of those moments when I know I’m going to fall, I can feel myself toppling, and there’s nothing I can do except tilt, and follow the trees forwards.

      ‘Waaaaaahhhhh …!!!!’

      The next thing I know, there are pine needles sticking up my nose, my body’s rocking on a springy cushion of spruce and my legs are sticking up behind me, and I suspect they must be waving wildly too. And Merwyn is next to my ankles, still attached, and barking like a mad thing.

      ‘Bill!!! Help!!!!’ I’m yelling and trying to kick, but my legs are stuck. ‘Come and h-e-e-e-e-l-p me!!!’

      There’s a low laugh behind me. ‘Hold it there, I’ll just get a few more pictures.’

      What? ‘Forget effing pictures, come and untie me NOW!!!’ I push spikes out of my mouth, unstick my hat from the prickles that are pulling it and drag it down as far as I can over my face. As I roll sideways off the branches, if it wasn’t for the freezing water seeping around my bottom I’d be hot to the point of exploding.

      Bill’s laughing so much he’s staggering towards me. ‘One more. Sitting in that puddle next to your tree pile, that’s the best one of all.’ Then he slides his phone into his pocket and holds out his hand. ‘What?’ He’s trying to look innocent.

      ‘Taking pictures, instead of helping me up, that’s what.’ Seriously, if he doesn’t stop the doubled up laughing soon he’s in for a swipe on the head with a Nordmann spruce.

      ‘You’re the one who wants stuff to load to Instagram. That sequence is pure gold.’

      I’m despairing at how little clue he has. ‘That’s nothing like what Libby wants.’

      He pulls me to my feet even though by now, obviously, I’d rather he hadn’t. He’s still laughing, watching me as I pull stiff soaking denim off my legs.

      ‘What, don’t tell me your boxers are muddy too, would you like me to order you some more?’

      I take a deep breath and give him my best glare. ‘Have you finished?’

      The way his eyebrows go up is really annoying. ‘There is one more thing …’

      I’m almost roaring. ‘What?’

      ‘Two, actually.’

      I roll my eyes.

      His lips are twisting. ‘If this is a taste of how this Christmas let is going to be, bring it on.’