Christmas Where the Gumtrees Grow

[Kyle Kirkland]

“Wes… I think you might have gone a little over the top with the decorations” Kyle called out from the kitchen. ‘A little over the top’ was a huge understatement. The place was literally swamped in glitter and streamers and those tacky Christmas lights that never last a year. Kyle didn’t dare step out into the living room least he knock a Santa over, or bang his head on a cherub or get his entire body caught in a net of tinsel. By ‘a little over the top’ he actually really meant ‘where the bloody hell are we supposed to sit you hyperactive little woolball?’

What made things extremely bizarre was how the decorations were a mixture of European and Antipodean in style. Aussie Jingle Bells was blasting on the stereo, a giant Pohutukawa tree flared it’s branches in the corner, Santa whooshed across the wall pulled along on his surfboard by eight kangaroos, and an inflatable reindeer stood in the yard amongst fake snow. It gave the place a very… distinctive look.

Kyle turned his back on the yuletide fiasco that was happening in his living room and headed out back door. He was of equal blame for the diversity of their festivities as far as the food went. He’d gotten the barbeque to work and was currently grilling a ham, prawns and part of a turkey for their lunch. Back in the kitchen a monster sized Pavlova dwarfed the mini-mince pies and gingerbread that had been given to him by the families of some of his patients. Kiwi’s contribution to the spread had been a large cranberry salad and some hot chestnuts given to him by a classmate. Neither of the cousins were entirely sure of what to make of the nuts and they had eventually been given to Matilda to crunch on.

Kyle removed the prawns from the barbie and garnished them with a little lemon sauce and some chives. He wasn’t an expert cook by any means, but he sure knew how run a barbeque and was quite proud of the way things were turning out. “Hey Wes! Catch” He flung a prawn into the middle of the living room and waited for the sheep to leap out and grab it in his mouth, a feat that continued to amaze Kyle even after all this time. As well as pre-dining entertainment the prawn was also serving as a kiwi-locator. It was quite impossible for him to see his cousin in the midst of all the decorations.

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

Quick as a sheep retreating from an oncoming car the Kiwi lept up out of the hoard of tacky decorations and grabbed the prawn with his teeth, descending back into the forest of tinsel as quick as he had appeared. He knew he had gone a little, just a tad, elaborate on the decorations for the house, but it was something that he hadn't done since he had moved to London. The last few years he hadn't really had a Christmas, but now he had Kyle, and the dull day turned back into the bright holiday of his childhood. He was happier than he had been in weeks, sitting there among the wreckage with Matilda and eating his rightfully won prawn.

They celebrated Christmas a little oddly in Pommyland as he had found out, it felt like wearing someone else's underpants or the like. It was just the uncomfortable little drop in his gut, and he didn't really want it even though he couldn't help but need it. Yet, now surrounded by all of the tacky little ornaments it felt perfect, Kyle couldn't complain. Would he rather wear someone else's underpants?

The Kiwi licked his fingers clean from the prawn and lifted up Matilda onto his lap, finishing up the last of the decorating with her. While she made herself happy with the chestnuts he pulled out a small Matilda sized Santa suit that was meant for a doll. He had cut holes in the hat for her ears, and it fit comfortably down on her head, the coat buttoning up a little loose but fine. She didn't seem to mind it all that much, but he would never know until she attacked. Gently he lifted up the warm little bundle of fur into his arms and stepped out the door, showing Kyle his dear little daughter all dressed up. "I'm all done now" he announced, the corners of his mouth curling up to a gentle smile. The boy looked healthier than when he had first come across his cousin at the Zoo, coming rather often to eat and stay over the weekend. He was still a little stick, but his cheeks were warm and rosy, and his eyes were bright.

"It's the first time we've had Christmas together in a while..." he mused, trotting over to the barbeque and turning his body so Matilda was not in range, glancing over at what he was cooking curiously. "We are certainly not skimping on lunch, following the tradition for a lazy afternoon eh?" He had already set up Kyle's mattress and sheets among the wreckage in preparation, they could sleep within the hoard of it all. "Do I need to go get the plates or five more minutes?"

[Kyle Kirkland]

Kyle sensed rather than saw Wes following him back outside and turned around to be greeted by a sight of festive cuteness. His baby girl Matilda was rocking a doll sized Santa suit that just looked plain adorable and Wes…


Wes would never ever be a perfect picture of health, not with the health issues he’d had as a child. But for several months now he’d been coming round and helping himself to extra food. Kyle himself had gone to considerable effort behind the scenes to make sure his larder had lots of proteins and meats so that the kiwi was getting some iron into his diet. And looking at his cousin now, with his brightened eyes and frost nipped cheeks, it was hard to believe that he was the same washed out youth he’d spotted in the zoo all those months ago. If his mother could see him now she would have little cause for worry, and that though alone made Kyle swell a bit with pride.


"We are certainly not skimping on lunch, following the tradition for a lazy afternoon eh?" Wes brought his thoughts back to this side of the globe where their lunch was currently being barbequed, they did have quite a lot of it but what is Christmas if not a time of indulgence?


“Pretty much. The natives usually veg out in front of the telly to watch the Queen talk about the weather or something British. But we’re not culturally obliged to so we can just veg, maybe Skype mum and Auntie just as they’re getting revved up to watch the Boxing Day Test.” Skyping their respective mothers had been Kiwi’s idea but it had taken a while to put it in action as neither of them where what you’d call “technologically savvy”. It is a sad thing for a son to admit that his mother knows more about computers than he does but that was the way things were for Kyle. With luck though their test run this evening would work and he’d get to see his mum and Aunt’s face for the first time ever on a computer screen.


Thinking these thoughts he turned a turkey breast over and decided that it was ready. “We can start serving now I think. Put Matilda in her highchair first.” Once the plates were loaded up Kyle switched the barbeque off and gave it a quick scrape down, he’d clean it properly once it had cooled. Walking back inside the temperature was much warmer and the back of his neck itched a little where the woollen scarf rubbed against his skin.


He’d certainly been amused when the parcel from his aunt had arrived containing two hand knitted green scarfs, apparently she’d thought it was cute to make them matching. But amusement had quickly turned to alarm when his own mother had gotten in on the game and had sent them identical hand knitted red woolly jumpers. Admittedly they were really warm, just right for the chilly London winter. But the whole matching-ness of it.


“It’s like our mums never got over their whole dressing-us-up-in-identical-outfits phase” He mused aloud as he gave his jumper an awkward tug.

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

The Kiwi hummed, making his way through the Christmas mess to the kitchen table. "What do you want to watch on the telly then?" he asked, gently placing the Koala down into the highchair and giving a happy little pat to her head as he glanced back up to the Australian and the warm food. He knew he would be the one to get the final say on what they watched, Kyle never seemed to care very much save for his handful of nature documentaries. The Kiwi though didn't watch very much in the way of television, and what would end up before their eyes was entirely debatable.

He accepted his plate and took his own seat, pulling it right in front of himself and waiting for his cousin to seat himself before digging in. The food was just the same as the rest of Kyle's cooking, warming his belly and his spirits at the familiar and homely flavoring. The seasoning was similar to that of his mother's, but it was a family thing he supposed, maybe he could ask Kyle to teach him to cook something more elaborate than instant noodles. But, he could hardly afford more at the moment anyways, only a few more months...

The boy tugged on the red woolen jumper he had pulled on over his dress shirt happily, enjoying the texture of the material under his fingers as he shoveled food into his mouth liberally. He liked the jumper, last year she had certainly been more daring with the complex pattern, trying to mimic some kind of Icelandic traditional one that's name escaped him. This year's was nice and simple, with his name stitched into the inner collar to identify it. His Mum though seemed to have picked up knitting as well, likely as another conversation topic with her sister. The sweater she had sent was wonderfully soft, and quite nice save for a few dropped stitches and a few extra feet of scarf that he refused to acknowledge. The present was perfect.

"They send us matching tee-shirts all the time" he commented, glancing between their sweaters while he took a gulp of water in a small break between servings. "Mum finds it sweet when we do, it makes her happy." The boy looked over at Matilda and picked out what he didn't like from the cranberry salad to give to her, returning to shoveling food as he watched Kyle. The last time they had spent Christmas together he was thirteen, and Kyle twenty two. Somehow it didn't feel very long at all.

Westley had been feverish, bedridden by his mother's decree during the festivities of their small family. He was miserable, but had somehow convinced his mother that he was alright so she wouldn't spend all of her time by his side and waste her long earned holiday fussing over her sick child. Kyle of course had known better, making him a little nest on the sofa of blankets and pillows so he could rest and join them, and cheering him up with horrible puns and cardgames. He had even saved him a second slice of pie after he had vomited the first one up, and washed the blankets that he had gotten dirty so he wouldn't be embarrassed if his aunt or mother saw. It hadn't been a very comfortable Christmas being sick and all, but it was a memorable one that brought a smile to his face.

"You know...we haven't found all of the presents in the hoard yet...I placed them under the tree but I think Matilda went and hid them all..." He set down his fork and patted his stomach, filled to the brim with just a little hidden crevice left for sweets.

[Kyle Kirkland]

Kyle considered the telly options. In truth he didn’t watch a great deal of TV except for some nature programs and the sport, neither were likely to be on until Boxing Day. Then he remembered that on the other side of the world it was already the 26th which would mean the start of the world famous yacht race. “If we could catch the start of the Sydney to Hobart later I’ll be happy.” He liked the countdown they did before the race began. Firing the cannon was always a sight. But he could always watch it online later so he wouldn’t be too fussed if they missed it.

 
Once his plate was filled he took a deep breath and set about the serious business of eating all that he could whilst still leaving room for pudding. It helped that the food was good, if he said so himself. His mother had ensured that he had all the herbs and spice mixes from home that they normally used so everything tasted familiar and comforting. And with the taste came the memories of previous Christmas dinners. The look on Wes’s face when he pulled his first firecracker, the matching sunburns they’d received at the beach one year, the time Wes threw up on him… good times, good times.

If felt to be able to open presents and eat too much with his cousin once again. It blanketed out strangeness of the unfamiliar traditions in a strange country. It brought a ray of sunlight to an otherwise chilly season (literally not figuratively). And meant that he was not sitting alone tonight, watching HRH’s Xmas message and eating a lonely Pavlova made for one. After all, what was a Pav if not the source of an ongoing argument for two?

‘You know...we haven't found all of the presents in the hoard yet. I placed them under the tree but I think Matilda went and hid them all."

“Matilda did what? Aw jeez…” Pavlova origins would have to wait till later, right now they had an impromptu treasure hunt. “She probably placed them up high somewhere, like that time my sunglasses were on the ceiling fan” (And he still hadn’t worked out how she got them there) “How good are you with shoulder rides?”

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

"Shoulder rides sound just fine to me...I haven't developed a fear of heights yet but I'm hardly worried." He huffed out his cheeks and prodded the little bits of leftovers with his fork, annoyed that he would have to wait until the ceremonial tearing off of wrapping paper. It would be an irritating mess to clean, the nap beforehand would be much needed. He didn't want Kyle to worry in the slightest about his health, it was a fun day, a family day, not a Westley has a coughing fit into the hospital day. He had ruined one too many family events like that already, this one was special.

He slipped from his chair and moved over to Kyle, wrapping his arms around him tightly and nudging into his cheek gently with his nose. "I'm happy that you're here you know...it's nice to have actual family about." He couldn't simply admit that he was lonely, that he was struggling, that he had gone right against his mother's wishes. yet now that Kyle was here he had a reason to stay strong and stick with it, wouldn't he be impressed that the Kiwi was off pulling his own weight in the real world out on his own. Sick or not he would show them all that there was nothing to worry about.

"Is it time for the treasure hunt then?" he asked, peeling himself off the other in a slight bit of embarrassment. He was far too old to be doing silly little things like that sincerely, but it was horribly nice to curl up to the other like a child. It was warm, and he felt as safe as he had once in his mother's arms. "We can transform into a Pommy killing machine and find all those presents at the speed of light!" He grinned widely and reached over to pick off his cousin's plate with his fingers.

[Kyle Kirkland]

The last thing that Kyle expected when he was chasing down a stray cranberry was for the little sheep that was his cousin to snuggle up into his side (effectively blocking his view of the plate) and say how glad he was that Kyle was here. Nor was he prepared in any way for the homesickness that seized his windpipe at the mention of family 'Strewth, if this carries on I'm going become as sentimental as Muriel's Wedding.'  With this thought the Australian wrapped his arms around Westley's middle and hugged him hard.

So many memories, the two of them, on the other side of the world. Kyle had thought himself too old to be missing home, but now he realized that there was no age limit for missing your roots. And at least he didn't have to face the despair alone.

"You were so brave coming here by yourself." He mumbled hoarsely into Westley's hair. "A different country, with people you barely knew. Away from your mum. Are you sure you're not part hobbit?" The lame crack at humor was as much for his benefit as it was for his cousin's. They couldn't start crying during Christmas day for crying out loud.

He let Wes detach himself once the hug got awkward and grinned lopsidedly at his pommy killing machine suggestion. "We'll hunt them down with the infrared superpowers that makes our side of the globe awesome and tear the wrapping paper off with a vengeance." And if that didn't make kiwi laugh (or at least roll his eyes at him) then he was a mong.

"Let's start with the ceiling fan and work our way round." He suggested and knelt down so Wes could scramble up his back. Matilda watched the scene unfolding before her looking distinctly unimpressed. Well climber or not, they would show her.  

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

Wes waved his arms wildly making loud ghostly noises in an attempt to mimic the sounds of a Pommy killing machine. "Wrapping paper will tear beneath our fingers and bows will wilt!" he announced dramatically, wiggling his fingers for a little more effect as he chuckled good naturedly at Kyle's little joke. How had he managed without the elder one around? It was too horrible to think of how he had survived without the Australian around to raise his spirits. They had grown up so close together that it was impossible for them not to be just like regular siblings.

"Ceiling fan is good, no idea what could fit up there but I know better than to question it eh..." He sighed, leaning forward to hug him awkwardly before clambering up onto his shoulders and placing his hands on the Australian's head for support. "So...what did you get me anyways? Just in case we can't find it you know. Just in case..." He patted his head comfortingly and glanced around, enjoying his new found height. Everything would be fine as long as he wasn't hit by a doorframe or something to that degree. He would hate to have something like that happen and potentially give him a large knock on the head that he would have to explain at work. Some people were already suspicious and he didn't want them to think he was being abused or anything. The trouble that would come with that was something he didn't even want to think about.

He hunched down over Oz's head, to simply be sure that he wouldn't hit his head on some low hanging fruit ornaments or one of the streamers that he had strew about the room. Maybe it had been a bit much, he could hardly see over all of the brightly colored decorations. "On to the ceiling fan we go!" he cheered, holding out his arm triumphantly.
[Search montage?]

[Kyle Kirkland]

The Pommy Killing Machine’s legs shuffled through the Christmas muck in the general direction of the ceiling fan. Occasionally a little detour was needed in order to navigate around larger objects that he couldn’t step over, such as the Pohutukawa tree. He had given his cousin shoulder back rides in the past, and was practiced in the art of not losing his balance until they were near a convenient couch (or a swimming pool depending on how annoying Wes was being). But saying that, Wes must’ve grown at least a foot since his last ride, and was several kilos heavier as well.


“Give me some warning if you’re going to wave your arms around like that!” He called out to the top half of the pommy killing machine after a particularly vigorous gesture had them swaying like an uncoordinated strand of bamboo. Another few steps however and they were directly beside the ceiling fan. Kyle planted his feet firmly and left Wes to start the search for their missing presents.


“What did I get you? Well it was originally just a mobile phone, so you can call me to bail you out when you get arrested for being a public nuisance. But I found something else a few days ago. A-uhh, why don’t you go and see it for yourself?” At that exact moment the former lab-sheep that he called Dafydd let out a loud bleat, clearly he did not think much of his present accommodation, aka the bathtub.


It was at this point that Kyle realised he had forgotten something, Wes was still on his shoulders. And as soon as the kiwi realised what that bleating meant he would want to be unshouldered as quickly as possible and forget entirely about the distance between him and the floor. At best Kyle would be left with a concussed Wes, at worst it would be quadriplegic self.


Thinking quickly Kyle leaned forward and fell (somewhat gracefully) onto the couch. There, now his back would be saved and Wes could meet his new pillow. “Don’t forget to use protection!” he called out as a parting insult at his cousin’s disappearing figure. When all was calm again Kyle got up and made his way back to the dining table. There was a piece of pavlova there with his name on it…

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

Wes stretched up his arms and blindly began to search the flat of the fan blades for the missing presents. Matilda for all of her innocent little naps and adorable little hugs was certainly a demoness in disguise. How she could hide all of the presents with such ease without them noticing was certainly explained by a contract with the devil.

"None up here..." was the final verdict, the words whispered softly as if speaking it aloud made it all the worse. The precious presents were missing and they had no way of finding them without wasting even more time to look. The pavlova was waiting for them! And he wanted to eat more of it than Kyle could ever dream of! It was a contest they had every year that usually ended in more pavlova on the ceiling and each other rather than in their stomachs.

He let out a soft sigh and rested his hands on Kyle's head, holding on to his little cowlicks as reins childishly and about to give a tug before a heavenly sound drifted its way from the bathroom and into his ears. The Kiwi froze for a moment, muscles still tensed to give the firm tug.

The Kiwi took off as if he had been shot from a canon, the Australian falling to the couch a quick save that kept the Kiwi from breaking his neck in the man dash to the bathroom. Nothing could make him run that fast, even if an axe murderer was chasing him at top speed he still wouldn't be able to gain such speed and dedication. The call of the sheepy siren was the only thing that could make the boy move with such fervor.

He burst into the bathroom and lept over the chewed bath mat to the tub, not even bothering to send back a snide remark to his cousin's clever barb. All that mattered was the soft wool that rubbed against his cheek as he pressed gentle kisses to the creature's neck. Kyle had gotten him a sheep, a real live sheep for him to love and keep company. "Hello lovely one...." he cooed, gently stroking behind the gent's ear and hugging him close as he chewed on the Kiwi's shirt. "D'ya want some pavlova friend? It's very good and we have to make sure Kyle doesn't get a single drop! It's much better than towels. You'll see...."

With gentle touches and soft pets the boy coaxed the sheep out of the tub, leading him into the hallway and down to the dining table where a whole pavlova minus Oz's piece had their name on it. He was off in sheep land, and mere words couldn't reach him as he helped the sheep up into a chair and sat next to it, the boy dragging the plate of the pavlova over towards them.

[Kyle Kirkland]

“Well that didn’t take long, you must’ve been desperate.” Kyle’s words were good natured, but carried a glint to them that had been missing up till now. He really had thought that Wes would take more time to eulogize over his present, giving the Australian more time to eat all the Pavlova. As it was he’d only managed to consume a quarter of it before his cousin’s return. “His name is Dafydd. Welsh.” He explained pointing to the sheep in question. “Will eat anything that you give him and everything that you don’t.” That pretty much summed it up.


Kyle was sparing Wes the whole lecture on animal responsibility, because he knew that his cousin could and would take care of his pet. Right down to giving Dafydd little sheepy manicures when his hoofs got worn down. Though Kyle would still probably have to shear him when summer rolled round, Wes was still in kindergarten scissors stage.


The sheep seemed to be the only present they had at the moment. Wherever Matilda had hidden the others would probably be revealed when they hauled the decorations back up to the attic in another six or maybe seven days’ time. Actually, better make it eight. There were a lot of decorations to haul. The delay did not bother him. Kyle was well past the age of Christmas present frenzy and it would not kill him to wait. Wes however was still mentally young enough to be excited. He would ensure that the two of them uncovered all their missing gifts by New Year.


Now for more pressing matters. Wes was eating his pavlova. This could not be allowed. Kyle searched his mind for an appropriately subtle comment to kick-start their most important and sacred Christmas tradition, pavlova warfare. “I’m glad you like the pav” was his chosen statement, as casual as a comment about the weather. Then… “We Australians make the best pavlovas after all”.


And with that, chaos was ensured. Kyle lent back in his chair and waited.

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

"Well then, we have someone to enjoy your cooking then" he chuckled, watching Daffyd slump back in his seat with his hooves up on the table politely. Carefully he divvied up the cake between him and the sheep, the teen digging in rather quickly to the hoard of it. It was as good as his Mother's, creamy, fruity, and sweet in all of the right ways that a Pom would never be able to understand. He leaned back and let it melt on his tongue, watching Daffy go at it with a happy hum. Christmas was going well for the first time in...it was three years...this being the fourth. The previous years he just stayed in the dingy little apartment with his Mum's present and all of the studying he could manage to pass the time until classes resumed after the break.

Honestly he hadn't been feeling very lonely, even at times like that where he should have been seated with his mother eating cake up until the wee hours of the morning. He hadn't seemed to have felt very much at all during times like that, and that was rather worrisome. Now he had Carmen, and Donald, and Kyle...and...so many warm people to surround them, He feared them ever leaving him, because now he knew without a doubt he would be hopelessly lonely after experiencing so much love.

Kyle's words made him suddenly spit out a blob of meringue, the Kiwi understanding precisely what was going through his cousin's head and diving right into the conflict. He scratched his tongue, making a face as he made a show of clearing out out his mouth. "I knew I tasted shitte and lies" he snickered, picking up his plate of pav and slowly walking over to the other side of the table where Kyle sat. "You know, if you love your bleeding pav so much..." he started to muse, setting the plate down in front of him. "Then why don't you shag it?!" In a flash he grabbed a fistful of the cake and shoved it right down the front of Kyle's pants with an evil little snicker. The Pav Wars had begun.