by Erin Green
‘Are you OK, Holly?’ asks Nina, approaching across the sales yard.
‘Oh, yeah, fine, thanks. You?’ She showed me the ropes first thing this morning, but I haven’t seen much of her since. Alfie says she’s a bit down at the minute about her dad passing away last Christmas. She’s said nothing to me, but you can’t help but sense that she’s dealing with something big; she’s always busy, always alone.
‘So-so. I’ll be glad when today’s over and done with and we can all get back to normal.’
‘Not till after the holidays, though,’ I say.
‘Ah, I’m not doing those this year. Giving it a miss and staying put in a log cabin over by the lake. That’ll be my treat for the holidays.’
I instantly feel sorry for her. Fancy not being with family at Christmas.
‘Not on your own, surely?’
‘Oh, yeah, it’s what I want. I asked Boss Fielding and he agreed that I can stay as long as I promise to go to the house should I feel lonely.’
I nod. Even so, spending Christmas Day alone seems like the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. For the second time today, I want to cry. First Alfie’s story about the old gent and now Nina.
‘And you?’ she asks.
‘With my parents and sisters, but we’ve got my cousin’s wedding on Monday. Well, we’re distant cousins really, but Isabella hasn’t any sisters or daughters so she asked my sisters and me to be bridesmaids. We collected the bridesmaids’ dresses yesterday so it feels real now.’
Nina nods. She now looks really interested and happier. I’ll keep talking about the wedding; she must like weddings. It’s the least I can do when someone is feeling down, or so my mum would say.
‘Anyway, we had the day off school and—’
‘And Luca? You know him well?’
‘Not really. She’s been with him for years – they’ve got two boys together – but we only ever see them at weddings or christenings, and then he only talks to my dad.’
Nina nods.
‘So, the boys are his, then?’
‘Oh, yeah, they’ve been together for years and years, he just didn’t want to get married until now…’
Nina nods along. Her face doesn’t seem as bright as a moment ago, but, hey, she’s talking about people she doesn’t know. You can’t always feign interest, can you?
I spy a customer waving at me from the pre-made holly wreaths.
‘I need to go and serve,’ I say apologetically, pointing to the potential customer.
‘Of course, yes… well, I hope you enjoy your day as a bridesmaid.’
I dash over to the lady as Nina returns to her usual spot on the sales yard.
*
Nina
It feels strange using a new key, having only known the feel of the cottage key. The cabin’s gold key slides and turns within a sleek well-oiled lock, unlike the cottage one.
‘I’ve allocated you the smallest cabin. I figured you wouldn’t be needing anything larger,’ was the boss’s explanation for allocating me cabin number three.
He is right.
My intention is to hibernate for several days over Christmas, enjoy the lake, read a little and straighten my head ready for a new start come Boxing Day.
Inside I find everything I need. A one-roomed cabin, complete with a stable door split-section opening, a cosy double bed, small seating area around the wood burner, a kitchenette area before the cabin window and a small en-suite bathroom. And, a secure door lock so I can firmly get closure as regards Christmas festivities. And the wedding.
I trundle my suitcase up the three wooden steps and into my new home. A quick ten-minute dash-about empties my belongings from the suitcase. I carefully place the wooden box from under the stairs upon the coffee table. It doesn’t seem right to place it on the floor, but nowhere seems appropriate.
After a difficult and long day on the sales yard this feels as if I’m a million miles away from Christmas Tree Farm and yet I am slap bang in the middle of it amongst the east side growing fields and the lake.
I hastily grab my coat. Before I prepare some food, I want to visit the lake and enjoy the tranquillity of nightfall upon the water.
*
Angie
‘I don’t see the problem, Alfie.’
‘Well, I do!’ He pouts, turning from me as I hold his suit jacket out for him to try on.
‘Slip it on, check the fit and then take it off again. What’s the issue?’
‘You. That’s the issue!’
‘Me?’ I point at my chest, to ensure that I’ve got his drift.
‘You run out on us after New Year then think we can all play happy families when it comes to attending someone else’s wedding… Slightly hypocritical, don’t you think?’
I look around for Nick; a mere atom of support would be good here. He’s nowhere to be found.
‘Your father and I—’
‘Oh, don’t come that crap again about you trying to work through your pain and come out a stronger and happier couple at the end. You divorced the poor bastard—’
‘Alfie!’
‘You did, you put him and me through the mill to please yourself and run off with your fancy man, or should I say fancy men? I remember the old mum… the one before she skipped out on us.’
I stand open-mouthed. I can’t believe I’m still holding his suit jacket out to him as if that is a feasible distraction, given his speech.
‘I was just thinking that if we…’ says Nick, walking into the lounge as we glare at each other, a million silent insults flying between us. ‘What’s wrong?’
We both speak at once to justify our own state of frustration.
‘She just said—’
‘He just said—’
Nick holds his hands up.
‘Woo… I can’t deal with both of you at once.’
‘Mum’s playing happy families and I’m not feeling it.’
‘He’s not prepared to fake it either,’ I add.
‘Absolutely, I agree,’ says Nick. Alfie smirks. ‘Don’t give me that, son. My relationship with your mother is different from your relationship with her. We talked about this last night. Now, if we do get this back on track you are going to have to work it out. You might decide that—’
‘Excuse me, are you actually saying not only do I rebuild my marriage, but I have to rebuild being a mother? Because I think you’ll find that that bond has never been broken!’
‘Yes, it was. You left. My mother left me for another man.’
‘I did not leave for another man,’ I snap. How have the bloody tables once again turned on me for being the sodding bad guy? Five minutes ago, all I wanted was for Alfie to try the suit jacket on to make sure there are no dramas come the wedding, but oh, no, we have to start World War III instead.
‘Angie… I told you the situation is delicate… Five minutes alone and this happens.’
‘Nick, I was trying to ensure that the wedding goes well.’
‘Maybe that’s the problem – maybe we are being hasty in deciding to attend as a family. We’re not there yet… and…’ he says.
I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Today of all days… What the hell am I supposed to say? Is he expecting me to say I won’t go because it’s his friend’s daughter? Or should we all not go? And, most importantly, what about Christmas Day if this is going to cause an issue?
I thrust the jacket into Alfie’s hand and grab my handbag from the edge of the sofa. Once I’ve collected my keys from the bottom stair, I pat Rolo on the head and dash from their house. Our house. My old house. The pair of them can suit their bloody selves. I’ve tried. I’ll be fine over Christmas with my luxury hamper delivery. I’ve bent over backwards to fix us and I am not putting up with this, any more.
Sixteen
Holly
Sunday, 23 December
My mobile bleeps, waking me up just after midnight. Half asleep, I squint at the illuminated screen: a text from Demi.
OMG! You’ll
never guess what’s happened ☹
*
Nina
I want to cry, as I have never cried before.
The frantic hammering on the cabin door frightens the life out of me. I jump from the bed and cautiously grab a hoodie to cover my pyjamas.
‘Who is it?’ I call out, standing behind the wooden door.
The hammering continues, drowning out my voice.
I carefully slide the bolt on the upper section of door and peer out.
‘Thank God for that, Nina!’ bellows Zach, out of breath. ‘You need to get dressed. There’s a fire on the south fields… you need to come quickly.’
‘What?’
I stare at his stricken features. I haven’t seen him as panicked as this since we were children.
‘Nina, please don’t start – just go and get dressed. The fire brigade are on their way, but we need to account for everyone.’
‘One minute.’
I close and lock the upper stable door before getting dressed in last night’s jeans.
Within minutes, we are leaving the cabin area and hurrying along the path towards the sales yard. Each time the spruce clear I can see the entire sky above the farm is lit up in an amber glow.
‘Dad thinks the teenagers have had a party again and… it’s gone wrong.’
‘You don’t say.’
Zach eyeballs me before continuing.
‘He’s hoping no one’s caught or surrounded by the flames… but as Jackie said, how is he going to know that until the fire crew arrive and check?’
‘And the Christmas trees?’
‘They’ll be burnt to the ground. If it spreads we could lose the lot.’
‘Zach… they’re the oldest trees on the farm, planted by your grandparents.’
He nods.
‘And the wedding?’
‘Exactly, another headache to fix. Come on, hurry up.’
We finally arrive at the huddle of people beside the snug.
‘Nina!’ cries Jackie. ‘Can you believe it?’
I shake my head as we watch the approaching blue lights draw along the farm track. One, two and three bulky fire engines sweep into the sales yard and are swiftly directed towards the open gates leading to the south fields. Boss Fielding is frantically talking whilst pointing, in the direction of the tarmacked road leading into the Norway spruce growing area, as he speaks to a uniformed fire officer.
A cloudy hue drifts high above the scorching flames as they stretch upwards into the dark starry night.
‘What can we do?’ I ask, feeling helpless at the sight before me.
‘Absolutely nothing,’ mutters Bram, sitting on the wooden steps, his eyes to the sky.
‘And Arthur… what if he’s caught amongst it?’ adds Zach, pacing back and forth.
‘Don’t. I can’t begin to think about anyone or anything losing its life tonight,’ says Jackie, as a heaving sob escapes from her chest.
‘What about the Presents for Heaven?’ I ask.
‘They’re all safely stored in the equipment barn so there’s no fear there,’ soothes Bram, from the cabin steps.
I feel physically empty. All emotion and thought has drained from my body. I feel useless, helpless and unable to contemplate the enormity of flame upon wood. Our beloved Christmas trees alight. By morning, we’ll know to what extent: singed, burnt, dead.
*
I do the only thing I can: I make hot tea in the snug.
The fire crew report that the mature spruce couldn’t be saved given the intensity and spread of the fire. Despite a deep covering of snow, some areas of the south side were densely planted so the fire spread above ground level from spruce to spruce. So, they managed it in a tactical manner by preventing the fire spreading to the farm’s east and north growing fields. The tarmac roads that run along and between sections of the farm helped to provide a natural break barrier, but otherwise the officers had no choice but to organise a constant flow of water, dowse the flames and monitor the burning area.
No one has been found wandering amongst the spruce so Boss Fielding assumes the kids have bolted on seeing their handiwork. Perhaps they might have watched from afar, though they would never be able to appreciate all the damage they’ve caused.
There’s been no sight of Arthur, which doesn’t bear thinking about.
I lift each mug, complete with teabag, up to the water urn’s spout and fill. I’ve organised sugar and milk on the counter top so the fire crew can help themselves.
‘Any coffee?’
‘Yeah, two seconds,’ I say, over my shoulder, not caring to look at the speaker. As I turn back to the urn, his dark gaze sticks fast in my mind.
My stomach flips uncontrollably.
Luca?
I slowly turn, mug in hand, not daring to hope.
‘Hi… yep, it’s me again,’ he chirps, his face smudged with smoke marks and his tumble of curls wet and plastered to his skin with sweat. His uniformed frame seems wider and imposing on the other side of the counter top. ‘I see barista has been added to your roles too.’
I nod.
I’m speechless. How is this happening?
He continues to chat but I can’t answer; I’m on autopilot making his coffee.
I should feel ashamed, to be reacting like this to an attached guy. I’ve read about women like me; I abhor them. Chasing attached men, when there are plenty of fish in the sea. Aren’t there enough single guys in the world?
‘Cheers for the coffee,’ he says, his smile radiating from his dark eyes.
‘Pleasure.’
He joins his crew. I make more tea and chastise myself a little further.
*
Angie
I undo the large buckles on the wicker hamper that is meant for Christmas day and stare at the feast of calorific delights before me.
‘Well, that’s me sorted for Christmas,’ I mutter, picking amongst the goodies.
Would it be wrong to start opening items before breakfast, when really there are two more days to go?
I’ve no one to answer to. Is the 23rd not classed as the beginning of Christmas?
I grab the tin of caramelised cashew nuts and plod back to bed, collecting my iPad as I go.
If Nick and Alfie can do their own thing, then so can I. I settle back under the duvet, open the tin of cashews and flick through Netflix for a suitable movie.
As rude as it seems, I have no intention of apologising for my absence at tomorrow’s wedding. They can think on their feet and make up what trivial excuse they choose. I am done.
*
Nina
We traipse in a line through the spruce carrying wedding equipment towards the marquee, like the Magi bearing gifts. Underfoot the snow is compact and slippery, causing a succession of scary moments as staff gingerly tread the route towards the east side of the farm.
‘I don’t see why they can’t load the trailer sky-high and have the tractor slowly tow it through the trees,’ I say under my breath to Shazza as we linger at the back of the line.
‘Jackie doesn’t want tractor tyre marks or soot being left anywhere near the wedding scene after it was used last night,’ explains Shazza. ‘She reckons it’ll ruin the natural appearance of the snow for the wedding party as they approach.’
‘Couldn’t the tyres be hosed down first? One decent journey and this lot would be delivered in no time,’ I add, sulking as my arms ache after my third trek.
‘Would you want huge tyre tracks running towards your dream winter wedding?’
I don’t answer.
‘Exactly,’ shouts Shazza, over her shoulder. ‘So get a bloody move on.’
Most Christmas Eves we focused on the spruce sales, maximising the effort to clear every last one, but this year we stayed open longer during this final week to accommodate the public as a means of helping ourselves juggle with the wedding preparations and the last-minute rush. And now, with the fire.
My mind fills with images from last night and the frant
ic attempts to dowse and save the Christmas trees. I visited earlier with Kitty, so know exactly how large an area the fire has destroyed.
‘I thought the saddest sight was a bare-branched Christmas tree resting beside a dustbin,’ said Kitty, as we stood on the tarmac this morning starring at the fire damage, ‘but this… this is something else.’
I had to agree. In the cold light of day, the fire had been far greater than I’d imagined. The magical snow scene had gone, replaced by a thick layer of grey ash from which ugly blackened stumps rose at various heights for as far as the eye could see.
‘What are they looking for?’ I asked, pointing to the various people moving slowly through the debris.
‘Anything. Boss Fielding has told them about the teenagers with their small bonfires and aerosol cans – they seem to think they can find evidence scattered amongst the ash. Shazza said her younger brother had been grounded last night so he wouldn’t have been involved in last night’s shenanigans.’
‘Those responsible must be crapping themselves, right now. And Arthur?’ I asked, dreading to hear more bad news.
‘They managed to capture him at first light. The vets arrived earlier with a mild tranquilliser dart. Poor thing… he’s got multiple burns from the string of firecrackers they’d attached to his horns but the vet said he’s got a fair chance, but it’ll take time. He’s now settled alongside Gertrude, but have you seen the boss? He’s none too clever – he’s been at his desk all morning trying to sort things out.’
A sense of helplessness swells within my chest as we stand and stare in silence as the investigators drift amongst the burnt ruins.
‘It’ll be all hands on deck today to ensure the wedding isn’t affected, but, hey, that’s what we do here, isn’t it?’ said Kitty, leading the way back to the sales yard.