Christmas In Mistletoe

by Clare Lydon

  “Let’s look at the number one contenders apart from Fast Forward,” Damian said. “It could be any ex-member of Boy Wonder. They’ve all got their solo albums out, but who will fans pick? The ballady one, the wholesome one, or the sexy one who can’t sing and is about as interesting as a cupboard?”

  Fran tapped some keys, then pushed her chair back. “Cupboard Boy will walk it. But there’s also the big one from Julia Hewson. Fast Forward have got a fighting chance if they can stand the heat. But you know what I think about betting. You might as well burn your money in a firepit. At least you’ll get some heat.”

  When Fran thought about a firepit, she was immediately transported back to Mistletoe. To the weekend when she’d drunk hot chocolate, sung Christmas carols, and watched as Ruby mouthed the words to them beside her. When she’d asked her why, Ruby said it was best not to sing if you were a singer in real life. People thought you were showing off. Same with karaoke. Ruby avoided it at all costs.

  Her weekend with Ruby had been unexpected. Just like the pangs she’d felt for Mistletoe and its inhabitants ever since she’d come back to London. Where else had Christmas trees dressed as countries or pop stars? Something had shifted inside her. Mistletoe was like a world she’d only believed existed in the movies. But it was real, and it had been living right under her nose all her life. Now, not going back for Christmas was a decision that was gnawing at her from the inside out.

  “Actually, if I was going to put money on a Christmas number one, it would be on that YouTube bloke,” she said. “The impossibly skinny one with the floppy hair who sings that novelty song about wheelbarrows. He was having a right old time in the press room when I saw him the other day. He might make Cupboard Boy cry come December 25th.”

  Damian wagged a finger at her. “You might be onto something there. And if Skinny Boy can make Cupboard Boy cry, imagine what he can do to Fast Forward.”

  Fran grimaced. “Their song is so much better. They deserve it. But Christmas number ones are all about novelty, so Skinny Boy might win.”

  “You’ve got me feeling sorry for Cupboard Boy now.”

  Fran scoffed. “Don’t feel too bad for him. He left Boy Wonder with £25 million and the status of sex symbol, so things could be worse.”

  Fran’s phone began to ring on her desk. She strained her neck to check the caller. Dad. She grabbed it.

  “Hey, how are you? Did you miss me too much already? I’ve only been gone three days.”

  There was a pause on the line. Too long a pause. “Listen it’s nothing to worry about, but Pop’s in hospital.”

  Fran sat up straight, a shiver running down her spine. “What’s he doing there? What happened?”

  Damian scrunched his forehead, before wheeling his chair back to his desk.

  “He had a fight with some ice when he was riding his bike, and the ice won. It’s not serious, but he’s broken his leg and buggered his shoulder a bit, so they’re keeping him in as he needs surgery. I know you’re busy, so don’t worry. Just send him a text, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

  Fran’s stomach dropped. What had she told him about being careful on country roads? However, now was not the time for lectures on road safety. The damage was done. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll see if I can juggle my work schedule.”

  “Okay, honey. But your job’s important. We both know that. See what you can do.”

  Maybe her job was a little too important.

  Fran hung up and turned to Damian. “If I pay for you to have a bet on Skinny Boy beating Cupboard Boy, can we chat about this week and juggling schedules so I can go home and work from there? My dad’s in hospital.”

  Damian’s face fell. “Shit. Is he okay?”

  Fran nodded. “Broken leg, but he’ll survive.” She paused. “What’s it going to cost me?”

  Damian cocked his head. “£25 each way on Skinny Boy and I’m all ears.”

  Chapter 14

  Fran backed her dad’s car into her parents’ driveway, and shut off the engine. Surgery had gone well, and Pop had been kept in for observation overnight. He looked battered, too, his face a mass of red marks and cuts. She could tell Dad was just as shook up as Pop. It was often like that — the person left holding the fort was just as affected, sometimes more than the patient. She’d left Dad at a pub near the hospital, as he wanted to stay close by and had snagged an overnight room. Fran had promised to drive back and bring them home tomorrow. It had been a stark reality check for her, too. A flush of doing-the-right-thing energy travelled through her.

  At times over the past few years, Fran hadn’t gone home as much as she should, and that was on her. However, now, her parents needed her. Could she work the next little while from their cottage? Maybe. Plus, her boss was being sympathetic and Damian was picking up the slack, so there was no need to hurry back at least until after the weekend. Four days away. Being here also meant she could hassle the garage about her car. Their answers so far had been vague and involved the words ‘part from Swindon, possibly Japan’ and ‘could run to after Christmas or the New Year’. She knew things worked on a different time frame in the country, but three or four weeks? Fran made a note in her phone to get on their case.

  She got out of the car, admiring her parents’ frosted front garden again, with its holly bush and array of plants. She stopped beside the garden’s mature fir tree and breathed in the pines. Was there a better smell in the world? The fir tree had a fresh layer of snow on it again. Did it always snow like this in Mistletoe?

  This time, however, Fran was prepared for the weather. When she’d got back to London, she’d gone shopping and bought a bright yellow winter coat that came past her knees, along with new gloves, thermal-lined boots and a hat. She’d also bought some more colourful clothing after Ruby’s comments. A baby-blue shirt. A mustard top. Dusty-pink trousers. Never let it be said Fran Bell was averse to change. She was far more flexible than most people gave her credit for.

  She let herself into Hollybush Cottage, then shivered. It was freezing. She took off her gloves and touched a radiator. Stone cold. Fran prodded the heating control until she heard the boiler fire up. Then she grabbed her suitcase and pulled it up the stairs and into her new room. Immediately, she saw that view again, and she was at peace. What was it about this place?

  As the train had unzipped the surrounding fields on the way over, Fran had simply sat and watched, transfixed. Fran didn’t do that. She was always on. If she was travelling somewhere, she never just travelled. She was either answering email, listening to a new artist or reading a business book. But on the way to Mistletoe, she’d just sat, soaking in the surroundings.

  Fran opened her suitcase and stashed a few items in her old chest of drawers. Not everything had made it in the move, as her parents had downsized. Fran had been sad to see her dressing table and mirror go, along with a bookcase from her old room. But really, she didn’t miss them. Her dads were here. Fields were here. Christmas was here. A warm, fuzzy feeling ran through her. She wasn’t in London, and already she could breathe better.

  What the hell was that?

  It felt dangerously close to contentment.

  Fran flicked away her thoughts as she lifted her laptop and pressed the on button. She searched for her parents’ Wi-Fi, and then tried to connect.

  No dice. Immediately, her muscles tightened.

  She frowned at the screen. Come on. She had work to do tonight. It was the first week of December and she had a stack of emails to answer and meetings to virtually attend over the next few days.

  She fiddled with the settings, and turned her laptop on and off again, which was normally the magic bullet. Still no go. She grabbed her phone, and tried to get the hotspot to work, but the universe was against her tonight.

  Fran sighed, glancing out of her window. She checked her watch. Just gone 7pm. The farm would still be open and hopefully busy now they’d hit December. Perhaps she could work down there for a couple of hours? She could buy a coffee and a
sandwich for their trouble.

  Plus, she’d get to see Ruby, who’d been pressing on her mind for the whole day. Just to say hi. Let Ruby know she was back. Nothing more.

  Making the decision and not second-guessing herself, Fran stamped down the grey carpeted staircase and wrapped up again.

  Minutes later she walked down the farm drive, her laptop bag hanging from her thermal-gloved fingers. The farmhouse lights were off, but the main courtyard lights were blazing. It was Thursday, December 6th. Not long until Christmas. The courtyard was busy with customers shopping, eating and drinking at the picnic tables, and carrying trees to their cars. Fran popped her head into the cafe and the shop. They were both bustling, but no Ruby. She walked through to the Christmas tree barn.

  Ruby was serving a customer. Her hair was tied up today, put under a thick Mistletoe Farm beanie, complete with mistletoe knitted into the design. She was wearing blue jeans, scuffed Doc Marten boots and a coat that looked like it had its own central heating system. Standing in a barn open to the elements all day long, Ruby needed it.

  Fran arrived at her till just as Ruby finished serving the customers.

  “It’s a Noble fir, so non-drop. Pots are in the shop on the way out, as are stands, wreaths and mistletoe. Don’t forget the mistletoe. Who doesn’t like a kiss at Christmas?”

  The couple chuckled at Ruby’s joke, and thanked her.

  Ruby ripped the receipt from the credit card machine. When she looked up, her smile grew wider as she clocked Fran.

  Ruby said goodbye to her customers before addressing her. “If it isn’t the Londoner returned. I guess you’re back to see your dads don’t break any more bones.”

  “That’s the idea, but boys will be boys. Even when they’re in their mid-60s.”

  “My dad’s the same. Although I fell off a ladder the other day, so there’s an epidemic of clutz around.” Ruby’s cheeks coloured red.

  Fran stepped forward. “Are you okay?”

  Ruby shrugged, snagging her gaze. “I’m fine.”

  Fran saw Ruby’s lips moving, and tried not to stare. She failed. Suddenly, she’d forgotten why she was there and what she was meant to be doing. Ruby was having a detrimental effect on her ability to go about her daily life.

  “I liked your joke about kissing.” Had that really just jumped out of Fran’s mouth? Apparently, it had.

  Ruby blushed a little more, and stuck her hands in her pockets. “It’s Mistletoe. Gotta give the punters what they want, right?” She paused, looking Fran up and down. “Do I spy a new, more Mistletoe-appropriate coat? And a yellow one at that?”

  Fran did a twirl. “You do. The city girl splashed some new colour into her wardrobe. Somebody told me colour affects your mood, so I thought I’d buy a coat of my favourite shade.” She grinned. “I bought some new clothes, too.” Fran patted her head. “Do you like my new hat and gloves?”

  Ruby gave an approving nod. “Very much.”

  “Plus, I bought some fleece-lined boots. I am ready for the season. No more freezing my tits off.”

  “Tits are important, so it’s a good move.” Ruby cleared her throat, then shifted her gaze to the floor. “How long are you staying?”

  “At least until Sunday. Which is why I’m here. My dads’ Wi-Fi is down. Is yours working?”

  Ruby nodded. “It is.” She fished in her pocket for her keys. “You want to take these and work at the kitchen table? Nobody’s in the house, but you’re welcome.”

  Fran shook her head. “No, that would be weird. I thought I could just sit in the cafe and work there?”

  “Be my guest. Joyce is working tonight with Ben. Just tell them not to disturb you.”

  “Thank you. Hopefully tomorrow it’ll work again.”

  Ruby wrinkled her nose.

  Fran fought the urge to tell her she looked cute when she did that.

  Be cool.

  “If it’s not, you could use The Bar. It’s free until it opens at six and the shop has good Wi-Fi. I’m sure Victoria wouldn’t mind. That way, you get your own office of sorts.”

  “That would be a lifesaver if it’s still down.”

  “Leave it with me and I’ll ask.”

  “Thank you,” Fran said. “By the way, I love your hat. Very on-brand.”

  “That’s me. I’m not a singer while I’m here. Just a Christmas-tree seller.”

  More customers approached Ruby.

  “I don’t think you’re ‘just’ anything.” Fran pulled her hat further down her forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

  Ruby captured her gaze. “You will.”

  Fran woke up the next morning to a text from Ruby: ‘The Bar as your office is go. Just go to the store. Victoria’s expecting you.’

  She grinned at her phone: at least that was working, even if the reception was patchy. Once she’d picked up Dad and Pop from the hospital and settled them back here, she could work at The Bar this afternoon. At least then, the time in Mistletoe wouldn’t be such a bust.

  Three hours later and after lunch with her parents, Fran walked up Farm Lane, nodding at the horsey tree, then the Elvis tree, before she reached Mistletoe Stores. The trees were already such a part of the village and her daily life. She was going to miss them when they were taken down. Dad and Pop had been so thrilled to see her this morning. Bringing them home and making lunch of toasted tuna sandwiches (Pop’s favourite) and strong coffee had made them wildly happy, too.

  If Fran was being honest, it had done the same for her. These daily pleasures of just sitting and having lunch with her parents was something she didn’t do often. When she came home, it was often just for 24 hours on a weekend, and she was always rushing, meeting someone else or checking her phone. In Mistletoe, Fran slowed down.

  Now she stood outside the store, admiring the window display. Panettone, Florentines, and those German gingerbread biscuits she loved. She hadn’t expected that here. They were mixed in with more local biscuits, Christmas puddings, and yule logs. Her mouth watered as she pushed open the door to the shop. She had to buy a panettone. It was one of her go-to Christmas treats.

  “Hey Fran! How are you? How’s your dad doing after his fall?”

  Fran approached Victoria who was behind the counter. She really did look nothing like her sister. “Doing well, thanks. Just brought him home this morning, so I’ve left them both on the sofa with a Christmas movie. They do love a festive film.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Victoria motioned with her hand. “Come behind the counter. We have a secret door to the bar from here. I’ve put the heater on, and help yourself to a coffee from the machine. The cups are behind the bar.”

  Fran followed her through as Victoria hit the lights. The bar looked a lot bigger now it was empty of people. “I really do appreciate this, you’ve no idea. I’ll leave some money for the coffee. Also, I want to buy some panettone and Florentines while I’m here. I love your display, very festive.”

  Victoria gave her a smile. “You’re welcome to use the space whenever. It’s just sitting there otherwise. Plus, you’re a local now. In Mistletoe, this is what we do.”

  Fran was discovering that.

  Chapter 15

  It was just after 8pm when Ruby arrived at The Bar. She’d been in the Christmas tree yard for 12 hours, and she needed a break. When she walked in, a rousing rendition of ‘White Christmas’ was underway, with Audrey, Sue, and Penny all in fine voice. They’d clearly been here since the place opened at six. What Ruby hadn’t expected to see was Fran in the middle of them, dressed in her regulation black. She must have worked here all day, and then stayed. Fran was truly turning into a local. That thought made Ruby smile.

  “Ruby!” Audrey jumped to her feet as the chorus kicked in, shouting. “Your new friend is proving herself an asset to the community. She knows all the words to ‘White Christmas’, along with many other songs. Apparently, she works in the music business, did you know?”

  Ruby was pretty sure Audrey knew that already, but had forg
otten. It wasn’t unusual.

  “I told her she has to help with your music.” Yup, she was still shouting. “I mean, Fran’s in London, you’re in London. It could be a good match, right?” Audrey tapped the side of her nose with her index finger and gave Ruby an exaggerated wink.

  Ruby walked to the bar, giving Fran a slight wave.

  Fran waved back, also miming the words ‘help me’ to Ruby.

  Ruby shook her head. Fran was going to have to get out of this one herself.

  Five minutes later, Ruby pulled up a chair and joined the group.

  “Is it a bad sign you’re in here when the farm is still open?” Sue put both elbows on the table, her chin in her palms.

  “It’s been pretty busy today, so the lull isn’t unwelcome. Plus, there are still a bunch of staff working, so things are okay.” Ruby glanced at Fran. “Did you get your work done?”

  Fran nodded. “I did. I’ve been trying to go home since six, but everyone keeps telling me I have to stay. Particularly since Victoria put the Christmas hits on, and the singing commenced. Any tips on making a great escape? I’ve messaged my dads, but they’ve ordered Thai food and told me I could stay as long as I want.”

  “The Bar can do that to you,” Ruby replied. “It can suck you in like a vortex, and in the end, you’re not quite sure what day it is or what your last name is. How many times have you woken up asleep on the sofa over there, Audrey?”

  Audrey waved her hand. “Who’s counting?” She gave Ruby a grin. “More than you, but less than Norman?”

  “Which is pretty bad, considering you live four doors down.”

  “I still look good on it, don’t I?” Audrey gave Ruby her side profile. “Unlike Norman over there, who’s got a face like a dropped pie. Plus, it’s your sister’s fault. She shouldn’t have such comfy sofas, should she?”

  All of a sudden, the music was turned up.