A 'New' Family Christmas [open]

Home again, jiggity jig. Not so much, really. West and Southwest were two different animals, though it was good to be out in the country again. Gabriel had grown up in the hills of the Cotswolds, not quite out in the middle of nowhere, but close enough. He'd never thought he'd miss it, preferring the bright lights and being surrounded by people, the sounds and sights and smells of life everywhere. But here, it was a different sort of life, clean and far away from dirt and dust. Home again, once again.

He wasn't there but a day and he'd been informed of the holiday party. There was too much to do, to settle in and unpack, get acquainted with his new home and landing. Sleep. Oh, blissful sleep. It always went that way before moving, even if he'd not had much of a hand in it. At his age, he preferred others doing the lifting and pushing and pulling and all that rot. Instead, there had been what would have been a lovely dinner with Daniel, and perhaps a walk round the city afterward, but it hadn't gotten so far. Well, things happen and maybe this was a change for the better, yes?

The idea of living on the property was odd for him. He'd always had his own flat or home, and had a healthy distance between himself and his clinic and hospital. It was important for him to have that sort of boundary, and here it would be different. There were only thirty-six children at the home, though. How could it be difficult to keep track of them? He couldn't imagine any sort of dreadful horrors, unless there was an outbreak of the flu or whatnot. A good balance between relaxation and work. It's what he kept telling himself.

Out-of-sorts, exhausted, and only wanting to crawl into bed, he'd received a telephone call. A holiday dinner, dancing, and above all, chaperoning. Gabriel was surrounded by boxes. Where in bloody hell would he have packed his formals? The voice on the other end of the phone had brooked no argument, he must be there, and to be honest, he was a bit hungry. But formals.

Grumbling, he went in search of something appropriate to wear, and found what he considered as such. A crisp, white collarless shirt, a red, brocade-ish vest, pressed black trousers, and a pair of soft black leather dress shoes. It would have to do, and it was as 'formal' as he got anyway. They'd have to live with it.

He was late for dinner, but was sheperded into the hall and seated without fuss. The food was delicious, the wine was lovely, and after a glass or two, he'd relaxed enough to chat with the other diners. All the while he continued to tell himself it had been a good idea to leave what he knew and come to this place out in the middle of nowhere.