by Lucy Coleman
Gray cradles me in his arms as we stand together, peering out over the wintry landscape. There is such a mix of emotions swirling around inside my head – joy, fear, excitement, hope and sadness, all mixed into one. Tollie is fit and healthy, I tell myself firmly, and there’s no need to be maudlin, or change our living arrangements. We simply need to take things at a pace Tollie is prepared to accept. With Gray here by my side life is going to sparkle and, hopefully, Tollie will finally be able to relax a little.
‘That means a lot to hear you say that, Gray. And it will mean a lot to Tollie, too. If we both put in some of our savings, then between us we’ll make it all happen. Anyway, first things first. When will you break the news to your mum?’
‘As soon as we get back to The Retreat.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Then it’s time to encourage Rona to pop over for a visit, so we can introduce her to everyone. I think she’d get on well with Mrs Price. What do you think?’
Gray laughs softly.
‘Actually, I think you’re right. If we can keep everyone happy, hopefully everything will slot into place rather nicely.’
As we saunter along, he begins to hum the tune to ‘Walking In A Winter Wonderland’ softly under his breath.
Making a life-changing decision isn’t difficult if you approach it in the right way. Although I will admit that my heart is thudding in my chest at the thought of what’s to come. Happiness, I’m beginning to see, is all about having hope and not giving up on your dreams. The idea of finally settling down and being a real family is exciting. To think of Tollie sitting back contentedly in his chair, watching over his – hopefully – growing family, fills me with joy. And if Rona is prepared to think about moving, then maybe Gray and I can make it happen.
The noise is deafening, as the kids all vie to have their voices heard above the crowd. Santa is holding up the cutest little elf – the newest addition to the team – and he’s asked the kids to name him. Standing about fourteen inches high, the soft toy has a cheeky grin and is a miniature version of the twins. Right down to the red-and-white-striped legs.
The screeching continues as a flurry of names floats on the air. Santa jiggles the elf about and the sound of the bell on the end of the green pointy hat is lost amongst the noise.
‘Peter… Elliot… Finn…’ The names keep on coming.
Suddenly, Tollie points to a little girl sitting cross-legged in the front row.
‘I think we have a winner!’ he declares as a hush descends.
Cupping his hand around his ear, he indicates for her to stand up.
‘Ely the elf.’ She twizzles the hem of her top around a finger, nervously.
‘Ho! Ho! Ho! Ely the elf it is, then. Now, let me see… what do we have in here?’
Tollie places Ely on the seat next to him, then reaches across to grab one of the three sacks.
In true pantomime fashion, he undoes the twine bow and peers inside. His face is a picture as he looks back at the children, his jaw dropping.
‘Well, I never. I bet you can’t guess what Rudolph has delivered!’ His voice booms out.
The kids are transfixed, watching every move as he gingerly places a hand inside and withdraws it slowly. Holding aloft a smaller version of the newest member of the team, he starts to chuckle.
‘It seems Ely has brought along some of his friends for you to take home. Perhaps my little helpers can pass these around.’
The first of our two Little Stars cruises is going brilliantly well, and the boat is packed with five very special guests, their siblings and parents.
Tollie hands the sack to Jade and Jude, who each grab a side and begin dipping in. The kids are buzzing as they each receive one of Ely’s friends.
As soon as they settle back down, we start handing out the little snack boxes to keep them occupied, so that Santa can begin talking to each of the children individually. As I usher forward a little girl named Laura, she steadfastly refuses to let go of her Ely and it makes me smile.
‘Well, hello, Laura. It’s lovely to meet you. I hear you’ve been a very brave girl and you helped your mummy.’
She nods her head, rather shyly, and Tollie waits for her to reply.
‘We were getting ready for school one day and Mummy fell down, bumping her head. She showed me once how to use her phone and I rang the police to get some help. It was scary but she’s fine now.’
Laura’s mum is diabetic. For a five-year-old, it must have been a terrifying experience as her mum slipped in and out of consciousness, and yet this little girl remained calm, sitting with her until the paramedics arrived.
‘Well, I have a twinkly little gold star here for you, as you were such a brave and helpful girl. I’ve heard a whisper that there’s something special you’ve always wanted.’
Laura beams at Tollie, nodding her head. ‘A tiara. Ballerinas wear them and I want to be a ballerina when I grow up, Santa.’
‘What a wonderful thing to bring pleasure to people by dancing for them. It takes lots of practice, of course.’
‘I go to classes, Santa,’ she replies, her eyes sparkling.
‘And what would you like to find beneath the Christmas tree this year, Laura?’
She chews on her lip for a moment, deep in thought. ‘Well, a tiara, some new ballet shoes and I’d love a jewellery box. A musical one.’
She looks pleased with herself.
Tollie withdraws a present from one of the sacks with Laura’s name written on the tag. It’s about the size of a shoebox.
‘This is a very special present for you, Laura, and my number one elf, Immi, has made a note of what you’d like for Christmas. My team of elves will do their very best.’
He leans in as he hands her the present.
‘Thank you, Santa,’ she half whispers, taking it from him with her free hand, but with no intention of letting her little Ely go. As she sits back down on the rug, her face is a picture of joy.
And the box? Well, this brave little girl deserved something fit for an aspiring ballerina. A local bridal store very generously donated the most beautiful gemstone tiara, a keepsake that maybe one day Laura will wear as a bride, who knows? But in the meantime, it will be a treasured possession, of that I have no doubt.
There are special gifts for all the children, because often what affects one child in a family impacts upon their siblings. One example is Joe. He’s autistic and has an older sister and brother who keep a constant eye on him. They help to keep him safe at times when he launches himself into something without stopping to think, especially given that he’s a climber. He’s such a vibrant boy, and very loving, his mother told Mrs Price.
When he arrived on board, he wouldn’t sit on the mat but wanted to stand in the aisle. As Tollie carries his present over to him, Joe grabs it with an excited shriek and runs off. I follow to check he’s okay and find him tucked away in a little space underneath one of the tables, opening his present. He’s sitting there quite happily, playing with his box of sensory toys and investigating each one. He laughs out loud as he presses a long green pod and some little peas pop out from the side, like jelly bubbles.
‘Joe loves things like that.’ I didn’t realise his sister had crept up next to me. ‘His favourite toy at the moment is an eyeball. It’s squidgy and pretty gross, but it makes him laugh.’
I smile down at her. ‘Have you opened your present?’
She holds up her wrist, shaking it so that the hearts on the silver bracelet twist and turn.
‘I’ve never had a real, big girls’ bracelet before. Only plastic ones,’ she replies excitedly. ‘I came to show it to Joe.’
In the background, Tollie is now leading a singalong before we clear away the snack boxes and story time begins. As I gaze out of the window much of the snow has disappeared in the mid-afternoon sun. This morning seems like an eternity away, already. But since we had a chat with Tollie after our early morning walk, the change in him is noticeable
. I even caught him whistling away to himself earlier on. He said our news was better than any Christmas present he’s likely to find under the tree.
It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas, I know that, and next year will be even better. By then, the plan is that I will officially be Gray’s wife. My head is buzzing at the thought of what’s to come and, even though we don’t want a big fuss, it’s still going to take a lot of organising to bring it all together. I’d love to kick it all off with an intimate Christmas Day lunch at The Retreat, to formalise our engagement, and then I hope Gray and Rona can come and spend Christmas with us, here in Aysbury – as we’d planned last year.
8
Pulling Together
‘You’re not a tea drinker then, Mr Fisher,’ Mrs Price observes dryly as the kettle clicks off.
We’re standing in the small kitchen next to the main office at the marina on a chilly Monday morning. I convinced Fisher that, beneath that sometimes rather cool exterior, Mrs Price has a softer side, but we’re off to a bit of an awkward start. The conversation so far has been rather stilted, to say the least. Yet with the flu doing the rounds, Martin is struggling to keep everything running at the Lockside Nurseries. It’s their busiest time of the year and I knew Fisher would understand my dilemma. With Mrs Price offering to step in and cover my two days a week, it was the perfect solution. Besides, he’s been friends with Martin long enough to know that he’s not the sort of man who takes advantage of any situation just for the sake of it.
‘No, I’m a coffee man, Mrs Price. I’ll leave you ladies to it, then.’
I pass him his giant mug and he takes it, giving me a grateful nod as he heads back to his desk.
I brought in a teapot and some good quality teabags today, especially for Mrs Price. The mugs here are mostly freebies from sales reps and I chide myself for not bringing in a nice one to make her feel more at home.
‘Sorry about the mug sporting that rather large logo. But they do sell the best engine and gear box controls.’ That raises a smile as I stir in a little milk, then place the mugs on the tray. ‘Shall we take this up to the viewing deck so we don’t disturb Fisher while I run through a few things?’
‘I’m sure he’s very busy, so that’s a great idea. Lead the way.’
Once we’re out of earshot it’s time to talk in confidence.
‘Actually, Fisher is a bit quiet first thing in the morning. Once he’s had his second mug of coffee he perks up and he’s fine after that.’
‘Ah. Thank you for the heads up. My goodness, that’s some view.’
I pop the tray down and we walk over to the windows; a half-wall of glass runs the full width of the top floor of the marina building. From here the view over the canal extends in both directions and in front of us, on the opposite bank, it’s possible to see over the treetops, way into the distance.
‘I keep telling Fisher that they should open this to the general public. I could stand here for hours because there’s always something to catch your eye. Even when there aren’t many boats cruising along the canal, there are people out walking, and from that small side window you can see them working on the boats in the dry dock.’
Mrs Price saunters over to take a look, while I grab the teas and join her.
‘Thank you, Immi. I think I’m going to enjoy my little stint here. I don’t know Mr Fisher that well, I will admit, but I’ll be mindful of the fact that he’s not an early morning person. Once I know what I’m doing, I’m happy enough to just get on with it. Small talk isn’t really my style, anyway. It’s just nice to have something a little different to do for a couple of weeks.’
When Mrs Price flatly refused to remain as Tollie’s housekeeper shortly after I arrived here, I felt she was being unfair and simply didn’t like me. After that I guess I avoided her whenever I could and maybe the same was true for her.
Of course, I was rather an obnoxious, angry teen and it must have been a trying time for everyone around me. I was messy, thoughtless and moody. It also never occurred to me the effect that giving up her little job might have had on her. Did she feel lonely at times? She no longer had a reason to walk down to the canal five mornings a week and for a while I didn’t really notice her absence. As time went on, she began volunteering for some of the committees and now I can appreciate why.
‘Sarah and Kurt are always looking for people to help.’ I throw the idea out there, in case it’s not something she’s considered.
We sip our tea, watching as a visiting narrowboat heads off up towards the next junction. It chugs along, leaving behind a trail of wispy wood-smoke from the log-burner. A woman walking her dog along the towpath waves out; strangers in passing, but there’s something about a canal that makes even normally reserved folk feel relaxed enough to smile and wave good-naturedly.
‘They’ve never approached me,’ Mrs Price replies. ‘Maybe I’m not congenial enough.’
I lower my mug, studying her face, and to my surprise she breaks out into a rather disparaging smile.
‘You think I don’t know that people find me a little abrupt?’
‘Well, um… I wouldn’t say abrupt, exactly.’
Oh dear, I wish I hadn’t said anything at all now.
‘I take after my mother, who was the headmistress – as it was in those days – of the village school over in Middle Norton. She was a no-nonsense lady, who believed in speaking her mind.’
‘Ah, so that’s your connection to the area, then. Did you end up following in her footsteps?’
Mrs Price nods her head, finishes her tea and then walks over to place the mug back on the tray.
‘Yes. I taught history and French. Well, I still teach French, but these days it’s from the comfort of my own little study.’
I glance at her, unable to hide my surprise.
‘The company I work for, Linguispeak, offer packages for clients who need to improve their conversational and written skills. It’s mainly business people that I teach, although I do support a few couples who’ve moved to France and need help when it comes to communicating with builders.’
‘Wow. I bet that’s quite interesting.’
She gives a little laugh.
‘Hmm. Interesting is one word for it. Sometimes it feels more like being in the middle of two warring parties, or hard work when students have no aptitude at all. But the hours are flexible, and it suits me well enough. Right, what else do I need to know in order to keep on the good side of Mr Fisher, then?’
‘Have I ever told you what a star you are?’ Martin is working opposite me, the wide expanse of the workbench between us piled high with all manner of things.
‘Yes. Repeatedly.’
I’m at the point where I feel I could do this in my sleep. As I twist wire around the pine cones and attach them to the natural willow wreaths, the bench is filling up fast.
‘Only another twenty-six to go before we can make a start on the next order.’ He grimaces.
The Lockside Nurseries service all the big manor houses in the area, as well as more than a dozen local hotels. Most of them begin trimming up as soon as Halloween is over, and we do a brisk trade in replacement lights, artificial decorations and trees. Once that rush is over, we’re on to getting the wreaths set up for the fresh greenery.
If you own a lavish home, or you’re paying a lot of money to enjoy a festive break in a luxurious setting, then it’s all about the real thing. But in an indoor environment, particularly where there are log fires and central heating, flowers and even sprigs of greenery need constant attention. So, Martin provides a service where once a week someone goes in to remove any dead foliage and generally freshen everything up. That includes topping up the water reservoirs for the real Christmas trees to avoid the dreaded needle drop.
Often, it’s quicker to put up a new wreath rather than fuss around replacing bits and pieces. But that means having a production line going here and this year, for whatever reason, it seems he’s becoming the victim of his own success. Not lea
st because the husband and wife team he employs who normally do the rounds are both out sick.
‘Martin, this is crazy, you do know that?’
He wipes his sleeve across his forehead, and I can see from his flushed face that panic is beginning to set in.
‘I do. And I promise, Immi, that next year will be different. We’re under-staffed and if you hadn’t talked Mrs Price into covering for you in the marina’s office, I’d be well and truly stuffed. I’ve been in the business long enough to know that this time of the year there’s always some sort of lurgy doing the rounds. It’s just sod’s law it’s hit us so hard this year, at a time when we’ve never been busier.’
‘Be careful what you wish for, as they say, Martin. I feel sorry for the pressure you’re under. The orders just seem to keep on coming.’
He looks at me and the bags under his eyes tell me that he isn’t sleeping well.
‘Seasonal work is a nightmare. I might have to begin looking further afield for some additional help.’
My mind is going into overdrive. I wonder if… I mean, Rona is handy with her hands. She knits and she uses a sewing machine, as I recall her showing me some curtains she’d made. This is easy work that can be done sitting down and only needs that little bit of artistic flair, which she most definitely has. If Rona ends up moving to the area…
‘I know that look. You’re planning something.’
I give him a wide-eyed, what me? expression.
‘Come on. Spit it out.’ He isn’t one to give up easily.
‘This is in the strictest of confidence. Gray and I are making plans and, hopefully, by next Christmas he’ll be living here at the cottage permanently.’
Martin immediately stops what he’s doing.