Mince Pies and Mistletoe at the Christmas Market

by Heidi Swain

  A couple of people began to laugh.

  ‘And I too had my suspicions,’ he said. ‘A couple of the high ranking council employees over at Fenditch had enjoyed one too many luxury holidays for my liking and more often than not for some reason they began to refuse to take my calls. It was all very suspicious and I was desperate to investigate but I needed someone on the inside. Someone trusted and completely beyond suspicion who could find out what was really going on, if anything.’

  ‘And that was where I came in,’ Dad continued. ‘I agreed to infiltrate the situation, convince the others that I wanted a slice of whatever action was occurring. I soon discovered that money was changing hands left, right and centre, with certain people already greedy for more and willing to take increasing risks.’

  ‘We quickly realised,’ said Mr Porter, ‘that if we gave them enough rope—’

  ‘They’d hang themselves.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But then you came home, Ruby,’ said Dad, turning to look at me. ‘You arrived back in Wynbridge and suddenly the whole thing was in danger of folding.’

  ‘But what did I do?’ I demanded.

  ‘You fell in love with the place,’ said Dad, his tone softer, ‘you fell in love with the town, the market, the traders and their cause. You reminded me just how much I loved it along with the true value of what I trying to protect.’

  ‘But surely that was a good thing,’ said Mum, ‘wasn’t it?’

  ‘It should have been,’ Dad nodded, ‘but when Ruby came back I lost my edge. I was terrified of getting it wrong, not knowing when to draw the line. I knew if I pulled the plug at the wrong time I was going to be jeopardising so much more than just my reputation.’

  ‘And so we decided to call it a day before it got further out of hand,’ jumped in Mr Porter. ‘Fortunately we already had enough evidence to expose what had been going on and as the last few days have proved, thanks to certain folks’ greediness, the whole thing was actually poised to come tumbling down like a stack of cards.’

  ‘So you aren’t the miserable, market hater you made out then?’ shouted Chris. ‘It’s all been a deceptive façade, has it, Bob?’

  ‘Most of it,’ smiled Dad. ‘You know as well as I do, Chris, that our differences used to extend way beyond the market, but for the most part, yes, I’ve been playing the villain in this sordid little pantomime to try and protect everything I love. I’m just glad it’s all over and life can return to normal. We’ve finally sorted the wheat from the chaff and in the New Year the Wynbridge town regeneration project will be well and truly back on track!’

  Silence lasted for about two seconds and then chatter, cheering and a barrage of questions broke out, most of them from Mum. Apparently Dad had a lot of explaining to do but for the most part I was just relieved the truth was finally out and that I had been right. Dad wasn’t the town ogre he had set himself up as recently, and the town and the market were in safe hands.

  I knew I should have trusted my instincts about how this situation was going to turn out. Dad would never have tried to tempt me to work with him if there was ever any real danger of him being ‘on the take’, but he had been such a convincing actor, even making us believe that we were going to lose the house! Talk about throwing himself into the role.

  I barged through to where Dad was standing and flung my arms around his neck, relieved that the version of the man who had presented himself ever since I came home wasn’t my dad after all. I knew I couldn’t change what he had done to sabotage my relationship with Steve all those years ago, but it was good to know that he hadn’t changed beyond all recognition.

  ‘I’m so sorry, love,’ he said, kissing my hair as he hugged me tight, ‘I hope you can forgive me. I know I’ve been a miserable old sod since you’ve been back, but I’ve been so worried about cocking everything up that I’ve made a complete mess of everything else.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said, pulling back a little and wiping away my tears, ‘I’m just relieved to have my old dad back. I’ve really missed you.’

  ‘I was always there, Ruby,’ Dad swallowed, ‘I was just waiting for the right moment to put in an appearance.’

  Chapter 33

  I don’t think it ever matters how old you are, there is always something deliciously different about waking up on the twenty-fifth of December, no matter which day of the week it falls on. I might have been a little long in the tooth for a Christmas stocking but as I nudged the bulge at the end of the bed I knew ‘he’d been’ and I felt that sudden upsurge of childlike excitement bubbling up in discovering that I had been good enough to be rewarded with that most longed-for of treats.

  I heard feet padding along the landing, no doubt Mum heading to the kitchen to turn on the oven, and couldn’t resist calling out.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’

  The feet stopped at the top of the stairs and headed back to my door.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ said Dad, his face unexpectedly appearing around the door, ‘I thought you’d be awake!’

  ‘And I thought you were Mum,’ I yawned. ‘Hasn’t she got the oven going yet?’

  ‘No need,’ said Dad, stepping into the room, ‘she’s not cooking this year.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped. ‘Why? She’s got a fridge full of festive goodies down there. What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re having it next week instead,’ Dad explained. ‘Today we’re going out for dinner. We’re going to be eating turkey and all the trimmings at The Mermaid.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No,’ said Dad, grinning with childlike excitement, ‘I’m not. We thought it would make a nice change, and besides Chris made us promise before we left last night.’

  After Dad’s amazing announcement I’d left him and Mum to it and come home to bed. My head was thick with information, not to mention the accusations Bea had flung at me and Steve. At least a hundred times I had gone to text him but I just couldn’t bring myself to press Send. Although relieved to have Dad and the market situation so succinctly explained, my mind had still been abuzz with everything else and I was still awake at midnight when I heard my parents giggling and stumbling up the stairs. Evidently, from what Dad had just said, more had gone on at the pub after I left than I realised.

  ‘You could always change your mind,’ I suggested hopefully. I had been so looking forward to a quiet Christmas Day at home. ‘I probably won’t be here next year,’ I said, sounding sulkier than I should, ‘and I want to make the most of today so I have a special day to remember.’

  ‘It will be a special day,’ Dad insisted, ‘just a bit different to normal, that’s all, and as far as changing my mind is concerned, I don’t think that’s really an option.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because Chris said if we didn’t turn up he’d come and kidnap us all anyway.’

  Having seen Chris in full-blown persuasive action recently I was in no doubt that he was fully prepared to see through the threat and braced myself for what was potentially going to be the most awkward Christmas Day I had ever experienced.

  ‘Cheer up, love,’ said Dad, coming into the room and patting my leg, ‘I’m going to make us all tea and then you can open your stocking on our bed. How about that?’

  An hour later, stuffed full of chocolate coins, I sat cross-legged on Mum and Dad’s bed, drinking tea and feeling slightly nauseous, but whether from the sickly treats or the prospect of avoiding having to pull Steve’s cracker I couldn’t be sure. I was just about to launch another appeal to boycott the pub when Mum spoke up.

  ‘Do you know,’ she said, stretching her hands above her head, ‘I’m rather looking forward to shirking off the responsibility of producing Christmas dinner for once.’

  ‘Really,’ said Dad, sounding as surprised as I felt. ‘I thought you’d be rather more reticent about the idea than this.’

  ‘So did I,’ Mum admitted, reaching for another segment of chocolate orange, ‘but I could get used to this. I’ll actual
ly have the opportunity to sit down to eat feeling calm and cool rather than sweaty and exhausted!’

  I’d never really thought about Christmas Day from Mum’s point of view before. I’d always been so preoccupied with presents and her to-die-for pigs-in-blankets that I’d never considered all the effort and time she put into producing everything. I swallowed another coin and decided to keep quiet.

  Ordinarily ‘big’ presents were exchanged after lunch and just before the Queen’s speech but we decided to share them before leaving the house this year so we wouldn’t have the worry of leaving anything behind when it was finally time to come home. Mum and Dad were delighted with their few simple gifts but I was surprised to find just one for myself under the tree this year. Ordinarily I knew exactly what I was going to be opening but the lumpy parcel under the tree was a complete mystery.

  ‘I hope it’s the right one,’ said Mum. ‘The chap in the shop said you can change it if needs be. I’ve kept the receipt.’

  I tore into the pretty paper and discovered the perfect rucksack with all the features required to make the backpacking experience as painless as possible.

  ‘It’s brilliant,’ I grinned. ‘In fact,’ I added, taking a closer look, ‘this is the exact one that I’d been looking at online but didn’t think my savings would run to! Thank you so much.’

  I gave them both a hug and a kiss. I was delighted that Dad had finally come round to the idea that I was going to see something of the world before I decided to settle down.

  ‘There’s a little something inside,’ he told me. ‘You’d better have a look at that before we go.’

  At the bottom of the empty bag was an envelope containing a card and a cheque that quite literally took my breath away.

  ‘Can’t have my girl travelling in the cheap seats,’ laughed Dad, when I couldn’t find the words to express how I felt, ‘and besides, my spoils from the Retail Park planning approval covered it.’

  Mum and I turned as one, our eyes on stalks.

  ‘I’m kidding,’ he laughed again, ‘it was a joke.’

  ‘Well, it’s not funny,’ scolded Mum, ‘don’t you ever let me catch you making light of that situation again.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Dad, the smile wiped off his face.

  ‘But hang on,’ said Mum, the thought evidently only just occurring to her. ‘Does this mean the cruise is off?’

  I had assumed that Jim and Evelyn would be serving Christmas dinner to family groups at individual tables in the restaurant but stepping through the door my assumption was swept aside in one blink. The bar area had been completely transformed and was bedecked with balloons, streamers and gut-wrenchingly, even more bunches of mistletoe. Long tables had appeared overnight and were arranged in sinuous rows which filled the space completely and along with their festive tablecloths and crackers, the atmosphere was one of a street party, rather than a formal gathering.

  Bing Crosby’s dulcet tones filled the air and locals were already beginning to arrive in droves. A quick look through to the restaurant revealed a similar set-up and I had no idea how the pub kitchen could produce enough food to feed so many people; however, if the delicious smells pouring through the door every time Evelyn bustled in and out were anything to go by then there wasn’t going to be a problem.

  ‘You came!’ shouted Chris as he arrived weighed down with armfuls of bags and boxes.

  ‘Didn’t have much choice, did we?’ Dad laughed.

  ‘Can we have those round the back, please?’ said Evelyn briskly when she spotted the load Chris was carrying.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Dad, rushing to open the door. ‘Back in a minute,’ he called to Mum and was gone.

  ‘Do you really not mind that we aren’t spending Christmas Day at home?’ I asked Mum as we got stuck in and helped set out the cutlery and cruets.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t. I’ve been trying to get your dad to socialise a bit more and to be honest I wouldn’t have minded what day it was if it meant we’d get out of the house and have some fun. Although,’ she added, with a nod towards the door, ‘not everyone looks up for a laugh.’

  Bea, pretty and pristine as always, had certainly lost her sparkle even though I could tell she was trying her best not to show it. Her mum helped her out of her coat and threw me a worried glance before heading into the kitchen to assist Evelyn and the ever growing team. During the last half an hour or so it had become increasingly obvious that the colossal task of entertaining so many people was very much a combined effort but with everyone in such high festive spirits it didn’t feel like work at all.

  By the time I got the chance to talk to my sad friend everyone was lining up to take their seats and there was still no sign of Sam anywhere.

  ‘He’s back from wherever he’s been,’ said Lizzie, who had just arrived with Ben but was already folding napkins and passing around bowls brimming with cranberry jelly as if her life depended on it, ‘Ben saw him getting out of a taxi this morning. I haven’t said anything to Bea. I didn’t think there’d be much point.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ I agreed. ‘Why upset her even more?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, you!’ I said in as jolly a tone as I could muster as I sat myself in the empty seat next to her.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ she smiled back.

  ‘Gosh, you look pretty,’ I told her, only just really noticing the deep red silk dress and diamante clip in her hair.

  ‘Thought I might as well wear it,’ she sighed, ‘I bought it with today in mind and couldn’t bear the thought of it hanging in the wardrobe and missing out on its chance to shine. I’ll probably take it to the charity shop in the New Year.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, not really taking in what she was saying as there was a commotion happening around the door, not to mention a vast amount of heat disappearing out of it.

  Gwen sat herself in the seat opposite us, shoving Minnie out of sight under the table and I made a mental note to keep my feet tucked in and my ankles out of reach.

  ‘Do you know how the seating works?’ she asked me while at the same time dipping her finger into the cranberry jelly.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Bob, who was sitting with Shirley a couple of chairs away, ‘I’d forgotten how it works. Perhaps I should tell Jim to remind everyone before we start.’

  ‘What do you mean “how the seating works”?’ I asked Gwen, as Bob went in search of our landlord and I moved the cranberry out of reach.

  ‘Well,’ said Gwen, ‘you can sit anywhere you like, but you have to change seats after every course. It gives everyone a chance to talk to one another and makes the folk who are on their own like me—’

  ‘And me,’ added Bea morosely.

  ‘Not feel quite so out on a limb. Not that it’s ever bothered me being on my own, of course,’ she shrugged.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Bea taking a good long look at Gwen and I wondered if she was considering her future as a long-term spinster of the parish. I was just about to try and pull her out of her stupor when someone began ringing the bar bell. I quickly looked around to make sure it wasn’t Dad.

  ‘Can everyone please make their way to the bar?’ shouted Jim. ‘We’re almost ready to serve but before we do, there’s someone here who has something to say.’

  Everyone groaned and struggled to their feet and I looked about me wondering if Steve had decided to spend the day at Sam’s place. I hadn’t caught so much as a whiff of his aftershave or even his name on the air.

  ‘Not again,’ tutted Shirley, ‘I think we’ve had enough shocks for one week, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, I’m not moving,’ said Bea, crossly folding her arms.

  It took a couple of minutes for everyone to jostle into a position that meant they were going to be able to witness the unexpected scene that was about to unfold.

  ‘Where’s Bea?’ hissed Lizzie in my ear.

  ‘Still at the table,’ I hissed back, ‘she won�
��t budge.’

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ she tutted.

  ‘Right,’ said a voice I instantly recognised, ‘if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed!’

  The crowd parted and there was Sam looking every inch as handsome as Bea was beautiful. Finally realising that everyone was looking in her direction, she looked up, a scowl firmly etched on her pretty face.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she demanded.

  ‘New York,’ said Sam, walking over to her table and pulling out the chair next to her.

  ‘New York!’ Bea snorted, clearly disgusted with the thought that her once beloved boyfriend had been on a shopping spree across the pond without her.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I got you this.’

  Bea looked at the cracker he held out to her and shook her head.

  ‘You didn’t get that from New York,’ she said scathingly, ‘it came from the Cherry Tree. I recognise the paper.’

  Suddenly I spotted Steve right at the back of the crowd. He was grinning broadly. He winked when he realised I had seen him and my heart started to thunder in my chest as I guessed exactly what was about to happen, even if Bea didn’t.

  ‘Just pull it!’ shouted Chris. ‘Our dinner’s getting ruined.’

  Bea looked at the sea of expectant faces, grabbed the end of the cracker and pulled. Along with the expected snap, a small turquoise box flew through the air. Sam deftly caught it and was on bended knee before Bea could catch her breath. He opened the box and smiled up at her face.

  ‘I know it’s the one you’ve always wanted,’ he grinned. ‘You’ve told me often enough.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Bea gasped.

  ‘Unfortunately the only place I could get it was New York and I wanted to collect it myself.’

  Gwen rushed forward and handed Bea the handkerchief she was in dire need of.

  ‘Bea,’ smiled Sam, carefully pulling the stunning princess cut diamond from its bespoke box, ‘would you consider doing me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  The cheers that erupted meant that no one actually heard her answer, but when everyone stopped jumping up and down, the happy couple were kissing passionately and Bea’s left hand was sparkling and dazzling us all.