Christmas at the Marshmallow Cafe (Delightful Christmas Book 4)

by CP Ward

  Bonnie remembered what Gene had said. Uncle Mervin had believed people took a little of the magic of Christmas Land home with them. Even among the overgrown ruins of the neglected park, there was enough magic left that Debbie could feel it. It was still there, simmering under the surface, waiting for its chance to step back into the sunlight.

  ‘Tomorrow we make marshmallows,’ she said, clapping Debbie on the shoulder. ‘Are you in?’

  Debbie’s lip trembled, but for now she held the tears inside. ‘You’re going to save the park, aren’t you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

  ‘You can do it,’ Debbie said. ‘Then Mitchell and me can be together forever.’ And with that, she burst into a fresh flood of tears.

  18

  Marshmallow Marshes

  As always, Debbie looked bright and breezy the next morning. Bonnie, on the other hand, had a coffee hangover from a restless night and felt stiff after a second night in a strange bed. Rather than eat breakfast at home, they headed straight out to the Mountain Breeze, where Debbie ordered a repeat of the monstrosity from the morning before. Bonnie, with nothing like her friend’s appetite, ordered a simple slice of toast, although when it arrived, jam had been spread across it in a shape that resembled a robin sitting on a branch.

  They weren’t the only customers this morning. The elderly male couple, John and Tim, sat a couple of tables across, peering at a map.

  ‘Aren’t they cute?’ Debbie whispered.

  Bonnie had never considered old men to be cute, but Debbie had a point. From the way the pair smiled and laughed at each other, it was clear they were far more than friends. For a moment she had a brief pang of loneliness, but she shook it off. The last few years of her marriage to Phil had been cagey and full of lies and secrets. She knew exactly what he was doing, but could never call him on it for risking a huge blowout in front of her children, both going through difficult teenage years at the time. Now that she looked back on it, a lot of pain and hassle could have been saved, but hindsight was a beautiful thing. At the time it had just been easier to go through the motions, ignoring their problems like a child refusing to wave his father off to sea. By the time she looked up and took notice, the ship was too far out.

  The two old men had finished their breakfast. They stopped next to Bonnie and Debbie’s table as they headed for the door, one of them tipping the edge of the floppy hat he wore.

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it a lovely day? Are you both staying here, too?’

  ‘Just for a few days,’ Bonnie said.

  ‘Actually, she owns Mervin’s Marshmallow Café,’ Debbie said, throwing Bonnie a sideways look that said, you’re not leaving if I can help it. ‘It’s just under refurbishment.’

  ‘Oh, what a shame,’ the elderly gentleman said. ‘We would love to stop by for a drink sometime. John here can’t eat sugar because of his diabetes, but I love a marshmallow or two.’

  ‘Or three,’ John said. ‘Ted eats them for me.’

  The two old men seemed happy to chat, so Bonnie asked them how they had come by the park.

  ‘Every year we spent our Christmases at a little place in Scotland,’ John said. ‘Christmas means so much to both of us, for one reason or another. Unfortunately, the village we always visit is closed until December, so we were hunting around online for something else to do—we don’t like to sit still at our age, don’t you know? We might not have much longer—and we came across this park. The advert was a little dated, but we’re still glad we came.’

  ‘I was expecting more places to be open,’ Ted said, but it’s nice that its quiet, and we love the nature. We might look on our last legs, but we’re not dead yet. We’re heading up to the lake this morning. We’re both keen birdwatchers, and there’s nothing quite like watching birds over a flask of hot chocolate and a mince pie.’

  They wished Debbie and Bonnie a good day and then headed out. Debbie turned to Bonnie, grinning. ‘Oh, they’re so cute,’ she said. ‘Look at them. They must be at least a hundred years old, but they’re so in love, you can just tell. God, I wish my life didn’t suck and I could find someone to love me like that.’

  ‘What about Mitchell?’

  Debbie rolled her eyes. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ve only known him a couple of days. Think I’d give up my chastity so easily?’

  ‘That’s not what you were saying last night.’

  Debbie rolled her eyes again. ‘What happens on the beer, stays on the beer. Are we going to go wade through muck and dig up plants or what?’

  Bonnie smiled. ‘Let’s go.’

  Out past Ings Forest station, a series of boardwalks had been set up to allow people to walk among the marshland boarding the lake without getting their feet wet. The river that flowed through Christmas Land exited here in this lake, which they learned from a sign was called Grunnerfell Water. The same sign said that “Grunnr” was an old Norse word that meant “shallow”, and that the lake was no more than two metres at its deepest point, most of it much shallower. And except during heavy rain, much of it was semi-waterlogged marsh. Finding a bench overlooking an area thick with flowers and plants, Bonnie pulled out her recipe book and found a picture of the flower they were looking for. It wasn’t hard to find; the mallow plant grew everywhere here.

  ‘Are we allowed to just pick it?’ Debbie said. ‘Won’t we get fined or something?’

  ‘I’m not sure about that,’ Bonnie said. ‘I heard from Brendon that Uncle Mervin picked his plants here, but it seems like he was a bit of a conservationist, so perhaps he has a special place somewhere. Best just get a couple to be safe. I only want to do a quick experiment.’

  The nearest mallow plants were a few feet away from the boardwalk. Neither had thought to bring any boots, so they played rock-scissors-paper to decide who would wade out into the water. Bonnie guessed correctly that Debbie would subconsciously choose rock, and then used the same tactic to win both the best of three, best of five, and finally the best of seven before Debbie reluctantly began to unlace her boots, grumbling about sharks and crabs.

  ‘You’re much younger than me,’ Bonnie said. ‘The cold will probably give me a heart attack. Remember, we need a chunk of the root. Since we’re likely to go to environmental hell for this, try not to pull up the whole plant. Just break a bit off.’

  ‘Cool name for a band, that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Environmental hell.’

  ‘Maybe there’s a Christmas concert you could perform at.’

  ‘Providing I don’t drown.’

  With a great deal of fanfare, Debbie climbed down into the marshy water, sods of springy grass contracting to soak her almost to her knees. Grumbling with each step, she reached the nearest mallow plant, rolled up her sleeves, and plunged her arms into the muck.

  ‘Oh, god, this is rank. I can feel something biting me.’

  ‘Could be a snake,’ Bonnie said, trying to look serious. ‘Quick, grab the root before it realises you’re potential food.’

  Debbie, scowling, felt around in the water, then stood up with something mucky and stringy in her hands. When Bonnie nodded, she retreated with the speed of a pirate who has just recovered treasure in crocodile-infested waters, scrambling back to the boardwalk and hauling herself out.

  ‘I know you probably thought you were having a laugh, but I totally felt something down there,’ she muttered, pulling off her jumper and using it to dry her feet. ‘I’m sure I felt teeth. Do leeches have teeth?’

  ‘No, but sea monsters do,’ Bonnie said. ‘A good job you got your arm out of there. The poor thing was nearly poisoned.’ Then, picking up the lump of root Debbie had unceremoniously dumped on the boardwalk, she smiled and said, ‘Good work, my dear. Now, let’s go and cook.’

  19

  Culinary Adventures

  ‘Right,’ Bonnie said, pointing at the recipe book. ‘First we have to make this lump of gunk into a powder.’

  ‘How do we do that?’<
br />
  ‘We have to chop it up really fine and sun-dry it.’

  ‘It’s November! There isn’t any sun!’

  ‘We’d better make one, then. You chop. I’ll see what I can find.’

  As Debbie got to work with the knife, dicing the piece of root, Bonnie hurried upstairs to see what she could find. Five minutes later she was back down with a desktop lamp and a hairdryer.

  ‘Rustic,’ Debbie muttered.

  ‘It works for incubating chicks,’ Bonnie said. ‘Chop it a bit finer, then put it on this bread board.’

  ‘Why the bread board?’

  ‘Wood will hold the heat. Then, if we make a little wall with this foil, it’ll keep the heat in.’

  ‘Looks good. What about the hairdryer?’

  ‘We’ll give it a blast to get rid of some of the moisture.’

  ‘Make sure to keep it on a low setting though, so it doesn’t blast bits everywhere.’

  ‘Good point.’

  As she set Debbie to work again, she wandered around the café until she found what she was looking for: a wall radiator on which she could balance the breadboard, with a plug socket nearby for the lamp.

  ‘Right, bring it over here and we’re all set up.’

  ‘Won’t we burn the café down putting it up there?’

  Bonnie shook her head. ‘Nope. Not with someone watching it just in case. That’s your job.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I need to find an egg. We need egg whites for this.’

  ‘Egg?’

  ‘Kind of oval, comes from a chicken. There were some in Uncle Mervin’s fridge … but they’d kind of evolved into higher life-forms.’

  Debbie wrinkled her nose. ‘Brutal.’

  ‘Just sit here and read a magazine or something. I’ll nip over to the café.’

  She left Debbie with the drying power and jogged across the plaza to the Mountain Breeze. June was on duty, standing behind the counter reading a horse-riding magazine. Christmas songs tinkled in the background, and a coffee machine hummed in the corner.

  ‘Can I borrow an egg?’ Bonnie asked. ‘Just one will be enough … for now.’

  ‘I can cook you one up if you’re hungry,’ June said, putting her magazine down. ‘I haven’t had a customer since this morning.’

  Bonnie shook her head. ‘I’m doing some baking,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’

  Bonnie grinned. ‘Marshmallows.’

  ‘Right. Got it. Wait here.’

  June darted into the backroom, returning with an egg box. ‘Take them all,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the supplier coming in the morning.’

  ‘The supplier?’

  ‘They come up a forest road into the back of the park. Only deliveries, no customers. Why … do you need something ordered?’

  Bonnie lifted a hand. ‘Not quite yet, but we’ll see.’

  ‘Sounds very exciting.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Bonnie thanked June for the eggs and hurried back across the plaza. Halfway across, she spotted the two old gentlemen they had met in the Mountain Breeze earlier, sitting on a bench near the central fountain.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ one of them called, the other lifting an arm to wave. ‘We couldn’t help but notice the lights were on in the café. Are you open? It had such great reviews online.’

  Bonnie grimaced. ‘Possibly. If you can wait an hour. I’m baking.’ She glanced down at her watch. ‘Come back at three o’clock. I can’t guarantee there’ll be anything worth eating or drinking, but you never know. I’m not the best of cooks, but, well, I—’

  Her voice had taken on a high-pitched note. She decided to shut up before she said something ridiculous.

  ‘Three o’clock it is,’ John said.

  ‘We’re looking forward to it,’ said Ted.

  Bonnie hurried into the café. ‘How are we doing?’

  Debbie had found a science fiction novel from somewhere and was sitting with her feet up on one of the tables, the book in one hand, the hairdryer on a low setting in the other.

  ‘We’re rocking it,’ she said. ‘Totally almost there.’

  ‘Good. Let me have a look.’

  What had formerly been a lumpy piece of root now resembled flour. Bonnie smiled. ‘Let’s grind it a little more, then have a go at cooking with it. I got eggs.’

  ‘Nice. What are they for?’

  ‘Making the marshmallow fluffy.’

  Debbie took her feet off the table and sat up. ‘You’re all flustered,’ she said. ‘Look at you, anyone would think you’d been doing exercise or something. You’re loving this, aren’t you?’

  Bonnie couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She shifted from foot to foot like a toddler wanting to pee. ‘Makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Cooking?’

  Bonnie shrugged. She had been thinking more along the lines of breaking out of a comfort zone, but cooking worked pretty well too.

  ‘You break the eggs, I’ll whisk,’ she said.

  ‘Do we have a whisk?’

  Bonnie shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’

  After Mervin’s death, the café had been closed down, everything put away and disposable food stuffs thrown out, but in the cupboards Bonnie found all manner of cooking utensils and appliances. She came across a huge industrial whisk, but the sheer size of the thing was overwhelming. Instead, she emerged from the kitchen with a wire hand whisk, brandishing it like a weapon.

  Once the egg was fluffy, she ground the drying powder some more, then mixed a little of it with water until it became a thick paste. She had been unable to find corn syrup so poured a jar of maple syrup into a pan, then took a plastic tub with SUGAR written in pen on the lid and poured some in. After it had heated to 121C, the optimum, according to the recipe, for marshmallows, she mixed it with the egg and started whisking again.

  ‘You want to swap?’ Debbie said after a couple of minutes. Bonnie, sweating as her right arm threatened to seize up, nodded. ‘We’ll take it in turns,’ she gasped.

  By the time the mixture was sufficiently thick enough to pour onto a tray and allow to set, Bonnie was eying the industrial whisk with frustration. Preparing enough homemade marshmallows to feed a café full of people, it made perfect sense.

  ‘Right, we’re good,’ she said, sprinkling the thick, white paste with icing sugar. ‘We’ll let it set for a while. Go and find the lads. You can call in those two old chaps from the square, too. I’ll make some tea. We might as well make a party of it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Bonnie wasn’t sure she could speak without breaking into that creepy high-pitched titter that always came when she was excited. Instead she just smiled and shrugged.

  ‘All right,’ Debbie said. ‘Back in a bit.’

  Bonnie loaded the marshmallows into a big industrial fridge in the café’s kitchen. Unable to concentrate on anything else while they cooled, she hopped nervously from foot to foot, occasionally opening the fridge to peer inside as though expecting some dramatic transformation.

  Finally, with an hour passed, she withdrew the tray and set it down on a countertop. The mixture looked pretty unimpressive, but when she prodded it with a fork, it squished appreciatively like a sponge, bringing a smile to Bonnie’s face. Through the door out of the kitchen into the café, she heard the main door open, Debbie returning with the group of first tasters. With her heart pounding, Bonnie scooped up the tray and carried it through into the café.

  Debbie had already arranged the crowd onto a long wooden bench. Larry, Barry and Mitchell sat alongside John and Ted. June had come across from the Mountain Breeze, bringing Niall with her. Sitting on the end were Shaun from the elf crew and Jason, the reindeer handler.

  ‘We got enough to go round?’ Debbie asked.

  Bonnie nodded as she took a knife and cut the mixture into squares before scooping the marshmallows out on to a serving platter. ‘Plenty. No one eat until I say the word.’

  ‘I’ll pass,’ Joh
n said, as the others took a marshmallow off the tray. He patted his chest. ‘Diabetes. It’s a real mood hoover.’

  ‘We’ve got a lovely salad in the fridge at the chalet,’ Ted said, grinning. ‘Best that we don’t both spoil our appetites. I’ll suffer for both of us.’

  ‘They’re a bit wonky,’ Larry said, turning his over. ‘Not like the ones you get in the shop.’

  ‘These are ten times better,’ Bonnie said, before adding, ‘I hope.’ She glanced around the group. ‘Ready? On three. One, two … three.’

  Everyone stuffed their marshmallows into their mouths. Bonnie realised that in the excitement she had forgotten to take one for herself, but figured she’d be biased anyway, as the cook. Best to see their reactions first.

  Mitchell and Barry grimaced. Larry spat his out. Shaun let out a whimper of pain as he swallowed and then scratched the scar beside his nose. Jason and Niall forcibly swallowed theirs, then glanced at each other as though conspirators in some heist. June, who had only taken a small bite, stared at the remainder as though the grey-brown blob better belonged in the bin.

  ‘Lovely,’ Barry muttered.

  June forced a smile. Jason stared at his hands.

  Bonnie felt the colour draining out of her face. After all that effort she had failed. The wave of elation she had felt as she handed out the marshmallows fell away, and she reached for the back of a chair as her knees began to tremble.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she began, but Debbie put up a hand.

  ‘I think I see the problem.’ No one looked up, so Debbie turned to Bonnie, a wide grin on her face. ‘What a pair of muppets we are,’ she said, nodding at the countertop where they had lined up the plastic containers they had found in the kitchen cupboard. ‘I think someone put the lids on wrong.’ She pulled off the lid labeled SALT, dipped a finger in, and, much to the horror of those assembled, poked the white-powdered digit into her mouth. ‘Yep. That’ll be it. I’ve found the sugar.’