SHE sunk down into the glorious soft bed, the sheets felt like heaven on her skin and the doona (she'd never get use to the word duvet) enveloped her like a bun around a hotdog.

It was the first time in weeks she'd felt relaxed, comfortable and warm - especially warm. She wasn't sure how anyone could live in a climate so grey and dreary, so cold and damp. Okay damp she could handle, back home in Brisbane it would be 35 degrees and so humid that everything felt damp and you couldn't move without sweating. It was just the cold that she couldn't handle, no matter how long she spent in Britain or anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere she was never going to get use to the bone-chilling coldness. It hadn't helped that she didn't really have anything that was meant to keep out London cold - Brisbane cold (10 degrees yes) but two degrees no. And the flat that she'd been sharing had dicky central heating to go along with the strange maudlin creatures she'd been sharing with. Three pale, sallow, depressed little mice living in a space smaller than her bedroom at home, well pretty close.

But here, though she was still in Great Britain, things were nicer, happier, warmer, here she didn't quite miss home as much. She had a family to care and fuss about her and the homesickness abated for the first time in months.

Shame it wasn't real.

Shame she was just playing a part - an actress in a play almost.

Pretending to be the girlfriend of one Thomas William Hiddleston - yeah THAT Thomas William Hiddleston. The one from the tele, the one with the sparkling blue eyes, the cheekbones you could get papercuts from, the one so tall that you could legitimately climb him, so smart that you felt like a high schooler in his presence and so beautiful that flowers wilted near him because they couldn't compete.

Okay that might be an exaggeration but he was an amazing bloke and here she was in his bed at his mother's place pretending to be in love with him - it wasn't hard. However it was the weirdest thing Melanie Matthews, photographer, had ever done in her entire life.

It had started two days ago with an assignment, an assignment she didn't ask for and didn't want - papping a celebrity. She was a photographer, a real photographer with an eight year news career behind her, awards, good assignments, the lot, this was a humiliating job but she needed the money, to survive and to move on with her life.

Four months ago she's swapped the warm sunshine of Queensland to work for a paper in London. The grand adventure, off to see the world - a year doing this and then off to other challenges, snapping the umbilical cord that held her to Brisbane, The Courier Mail, Everton Park, her family and Bill.

The truth was she should be on her honeymoon now with the boy next door, if not her first boyfriend, damn close. Her brother Simon's best friend since kindergarten, it was expected they'd fall in love and they did, it was expected they'd get married and, well, they didn't. They would have if she hadn't got cold feet almost a year ago. It wasn't that she hadn't loved her fiancé it was just that................no when she came down to it she didn't love him. They'd been together eight years and everyone had expected them to marry, to settle down, to buy a house just up the road from their parents (which they had) to raise kids and be happy in suburbia. Bill had a good job, working for the Queensland Government, they should be happy, she should be happy. And yet she wasn't. She was creative being, a free spirit and she needed more. Yeah she'd like those things but not in the conventional way. So what had Bill been? If she was honest, part of her had been scared, scared of the unknown and so there were dreams she let stay dreams. But while some of it was just living up to family expectation, she knew now some of it was Bill, manipulative, sucky Bill.

She'd always been an anxious person from an anxious family (her mother's) and Bill had played on that, discouraged her with a "oh you don't want to do that - there are too many people you wouldn't cope". For a long time she thought that was what it was like when someone cared for you. And then she'd been offered a redundancy package or a job down on the Gold Coast at the sister paper - only an hour or so down on the highway from home, but a chance to stay doing what she loved, she saw it as perfect - she could commute and still do the job she loved.

But Bill had hit the roof, the redundancy would have given them a good nest egg, pay off some of their mortgage and his debts, they could start a family quicker, she could stay home for a few years. He had it planned, he had their life planned out but it hadn't been her life - no room for trips to the theatre or overseas, not unless it was the annual trip to Thailand, or up to Port Douglas to the family's timeshare, a mortgage, kids and chained to suburbia just like their parents.

Mel had wanted more much more.

And so she'd stood her ground and driven to the Gold Coast to work for six weeks with Bill becoming more and more distant, more and more sullen, until the night she came home to find him drunk, hunched over the bong he only brought out when he thought no-one was home, angry and off his face. And while he hadn't struck her, he'd been aggressive and she knew she had to get out of there for both their sakes. So she'd run to her parents place but her father's - "this is between the two of you sort it out yourself" attitude was a wakeup call.

Two days later she was out of there. Living with a friend on the Gold Coast. Her father, brother and Bill still weren't speaking to her - though Simon (not Bill) had tried to come and bring her home. He'd called her things that a brother shouldn't call a sister but the joke was on Simon - she hadn't slept around (okay the sports journo but it was that one time and he wasn't much better than Bill) but Bill well.............let's just say Bill's bed wouldn't be empty this Christmas.

Not that she could talk.

Very soon the bed would dip and another body would be warming the sheets.

Tom Hiddleston her new very unboyfriend.

Actually it was while working on the Coast that she'd met Tom. She'd been allowed an exclusive to come on set and take shots of the first of two movies he'd done there this year. Her stuff was so good that Tom himself had recommended her for the second job, she'd charmed both directors and impressed more than a few people with the few shots that had already been released. Buoyed by that success and needing to get away from how quickly Bill had replaced her (yes she wanted it out and yes it was the best thing but somehow these things are still a smack to the ego) she had taken this job.

The dream job.

Reality set in - as it always did and she missed home and the warm. The job wasn't all she expected and she was homesick. But on the flipside she was free and she was living the adventure, taking pictures in her own time of things she'd only dreamed of building a portfolio.

However, this week - Christmas week - reality was being a real bitch, she hadn't heard from her parents in months and her heart hurt, she'd sent a Christmas card and presents weeks ago - given them email addresses but nothing. Christmas was going to suck arse and she wondered briefly if she'd have been better off chained to the sink with Bill.

She wondered if her family would take her back, if she should settle. Let her work stagnate - take Santa photos at the local mall - they were important too.

She was beginning to think maybe her life was back in Brisbane.

Until she got the job she didn't want and her life turned on its head again.

The paper had been following Tom for weeks - he'd had a high profile romance surely he'd have a rebound and they'd sell a squillion papers AGAIN. They had freelancers doing the job but with the holidays on and not much happening it had been a case of why pay someone else when you had people on staff not doing much. And so she'd been assigned to pap him.

She didn't like pap jobs at the best of times but he'd been kind to her and they'd had an instant natural rapport and here she was invading his private life.

She'd felt dirty stalking the streets near where she knew his house was - staking out his favourite coffee shop. And then she'd felt cold, her coat was Brisbane winter and this was Brisbane winter turned up to eleven so she'd ducked into the coffee shop for a warm tea and a quick snack and had run (literally) straight into her target.

Tom had remembered her, with her long willowy legs (clad in tight jeans not shorts here in London), her long chocolate brown hair, dangerous curves and luminescent green eyes it was hard for him to forget her. Not only that, he'd been happy to see her - she had been fun, slightly shy but then quite gregarious and gloriously funny and wickedly smart. She'd been easy on the eye and easy to work with and here she was on his side of the planet. It had been amazing but she looked out of place and out of sorts and lost and his heart had gone out to her and even more so when the guilt had hit her like a sledge hammer and her assignment details had spilled out like her hot tea on his jacket. He'd seen her red-rimmed eyes, her cold purple lips and cold fingers and appreciated her honesty. He'd wanted to help her.

They staged a photo or two - she let him check them and they laughed about what they were doing and she emailed the images to her boss who let her have the time off early. So he shouted her lunch somewhere warm, somewhere away from the prying eye of the press - his kitchen heated up soups and toast - she was skinny, skinnier than he was even and he felt the need to feed her.

They talked, he got her life story and instinctually felt safe enough to relay some of his that was "not for publication" - she jokingly (but not really) signed a note promising not to tell and for some reason he felt safe with her, saw a kindred spirit. Safe enough even to take a call from his mother. She listened almost jealously as mother and son bantered in that mother and son way "are you eating?" "you work too hard"; "you need someone in your life". This was obviously an old, old argument and she could see him struggling with her, so she sent an encouraging smile and got more than she or he bargained for.

It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself, his mother had painted him into a corner and he'd lashed out like you do and suddenly he was telling her about his new girlfriend from Australia and just as suddenly the girlfriend was invited to Christmas.

He'd looked horrified when he got off the phone. He didn't want to disappoint his mother (or put up with the teasing of his family) and if he was honest he wanted to spend more time with Mel but...........

She hadn't heard the whole conversation, she'd tried not to eaves drop but she'd heard enough.

"You probably have Christmas plans already-I'm sorry I think I just talked myself into a spot of bother," he said stumbling a little over his words. This was not your usual pick up line, and he sensed she would be responsive to any of his usual chat anyway.

"I think I've just told my mother you're my girl friend and she's insisted you come. If I've put you on the spot - I can ring back, I can........." his eyes went wide and green and his face looked younger than she'd thought possible.

"I have a date with the tele and some tinned soup," she admitted and his eyes smiled in a way that lit not only him but her up - she was a sucker for a guy with expressive eyes, windows to an expressive soul and after so many years with Bill's lifeless hazel eyes she was sucked in before she knew it. And before she knew it she was packed and resting her cold and tired bones against the luxury of the leather seats of his expensive car and drinking in his scent and listening to his music.

She wondered whether it had been the promise of family, more than Tom himself, that had been the real attraction. Yes she didn't want to be alone for Christmas, but more than that she wanted, no, needed to belong somewhere. Right now she felt rudderless, adrift on a sea of uncertainty and he had offered a temporary mooring. A safe harbour where she'd cooked with a mother again, hung out with siblings and played with nieces and nephews, felt part of something again. It had been a glorious day but it had only been pretend. And tomorrow - Christmas day - would be more of the same. She was only borrowing these people - even Tom.

Especially Tom.

The tears fell then, hard and warm - a torrential Brisbane summer storm in miniature.

It was silly - if they didn't want her for who she was if they couldn't see she needed more than she was better off away, but these were still the people she'd made a million memories with, shared a million tears, laughter and moments with.

She cried so hard she didn't hear the door go or the footsteps across the worn carpet of Tom's old bedroom floor. She didn't know he was there kneeling beside her - his face just centimetres from hers until a gentle hand caressed the back of her head until a gentle voice told her everything was okay until he scooped her into his body and rocked her.

"Come, come please don't cry darling, I have a surprise for you downstairs," he crooned gently, lifting her out of bed. She grabbed slippers and threw on the hoodie offered her and followed, followed him back down the stairs where his mother with her white-grey hair and her kind eyes was talking on the phone - the land line. Talking and laughing and wishing someone a Merry Christmas.

"Oh here she is now Silvia - so nice to meet you even if it was only on the phone, let's hope this is the first of many phone calls," she said before holding out the phone to Mel who was standing statue still in the middle of the warm, homely living room with its million memories and years of love.

She reached for the hand piece slowly and then gingerly put it to her ear.

"Mum?" she asked tentatively.

"Oh Mel my darling daughter, my beautiful brave and intelligent baby girl - it's so nice to hear from you and so nice to know that you're safe and warm and happy and being well cared for and loved, I was so worried," her mother's words tumbled out like the waterfall she loved to make them visit on the endless trips to Cairns, matching the waterfall tumbling from her tear ducts. In the background she could hear the song that Mel always played when they were cooking together on Christmas morning - Paul Kelly's Making Gravy - and it had never felt more relevant or poignant than now. The song about a son missing Christmas, locked in jail. She wasn't in jail -but she had felt isolated by her family but her new friends, her surrogate family had given her something special. Tom had given her something priceless.

"Merry Christmas," was all Mel managed as her voice choked and died in her throat and a pair of strong arms came around her to ground her and help her through it and his mother stood nearby smiling at her encouraging her. She didn't know how much Tom had told his family about her but she knew it was enough for his mother to offer her gentle encouragement (though she got the feeling the Hiddleston matriarch was always like that). She had passed that compassion to her son as the arms stayed there through the whole conversation as her mother talked about the family apologised for her lack of support and finally mentioned Bill and how he wasn't what any of them thought he was -and while neither was she Mel was more and Bill was less. That she should continue her adventure and see the world, do everything Sylvia had never been game to do herself.

Mel cried into Tom's shoulder when the conversation was finished after turning to thank him.

"I couldn't see such a beautiful and brave woman so sad on Christmas," he whispered kissing her gently on the forehead.

"Merry Christmas darling," he murmured wrapping his arms around her and kind of knowing then and there that he didn't want to let her go - ever.